The people of Bengal were not just participants in the Pakistan Movement—they were its lifeblood. They played a decisive role in the rise of the Muslim League and, ultimately, in the creation of Pakistan. Yet, once the dream was realized, gratitude turned to betrayal. The very people who had helped establish the country found themselves systematically sidelined by a West Pakistani leadership that monopolized power, resources, and national identity.
Bengalis contributed the lion’s share of Pakistan’s exports but received a fraction of investment and aid. Their culture, language, and political aspirations were not simply ignored; they were actively suppressed. Power remained entrenched in West Pakistan, while East Pakistan’s demands for dignity and autonomy were treated as subversion.
When East Pakistanis voted overwhelmingly in the 1970 elections for a party of their own, West Pakistan’s response was not compromise, it was carnage. The ballots were answered with bullets. On March 25, 1971, the Pakistan Army launched a brutal crackdown on unarmed civilians in Dhaka. What followed over nine horrific months was not just repression—it was a campaign of genocide. Hundreds of thousands were killed, women were subjected to systematic sexual violence, and an entire population endured atrocities designed to crush their will. These were not accidents of war but deliberate acts of annihilation.
Yet, more than fifty years later, Pakistan still refuses to confront this truth. The genocide remains buried beneath denial, distortion, and evasion. Pakistani school textbooks deflect blame, attributing the break-up of the country to “Hindu teachers” and “foreign conspiracies.”
This refusal to reckon with history continues to haunt Pakistan’s relations with Bangladesh. On August 24, Foreign Minister Ishaq Dar claimed the 1971 issue had been “addressed,” when in fact it has not. Neither the 1974 tripartite agreement nor subsequent statements from Pakistani leaders amount to an apology or acknowledgment of genocide. As former Bangladeshi diplomat Touhid Hossain has pointed out, the wounds remain open.
Dhaka has repeatedly called for recognition of the genocide, repatriation of stranded Pakistanis, and settlement of pre-1971 assets. Each time, its appeals have been met with silence. Political ties have grown increasingly cold—nearly frozen—over the 15 years of Sheikh Hasina’s rule. A rare meeting between foreign secretaries this April again raised these long-standing demands, yet Islamabad offered no movement.
Still, the question looms: should the past forever dictate the future? Both nations stand to benefit from trade, cultural exchange, and regional cooperation. Improved relations should not be mistaken by India as a geopolitical shift toward Pakistan but rather as a long-overdue recognition that South Asia’s prosperity depends on breaking free from hostility. The paralysis of SAARC, stalled by Indo-Pakistani antagonism, has already deprived millions of opportunities for growth.
But reconciliation cannot come from evasion. History offers lessons. The Netherlands apologized in 2022 for its colonial violence in Indonesia. Japan, in 2016, formally acknowledged and compensated Korean “comfort women.” Jacques Chirac, in 1995, admitted France’s role in deporting Jews during World War II. The U.S. apologized in 1988 for the internment of Japanese Americans. Germany’s Chancellor Willy Brandt famously fell to his knees in Warsaw in 1970—a gesture that spoke louder than any words.
These acts did not erase the past, but they allowed nations to move forward with dignity.
The question is not whether Pakistan can afford to apologize. The question is whether it can afford not to.
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