There is a marked tendency among South Asian governments to deny the presence of transnational terror groups like al-Qaeda and Islamic State (IS), also al-Qaeda in Indian Subcontinent (AQIS), and blame violence perpetrated in the name of Islam to local groups.
They ignore that the local groups are motivated and funded by the larger, richer and better organised groups outside. These local groups have openly declared their allegiance. Some of them have shifted from one to the other and have sent fighters to Iraq and Syria. But governments play down all this.
The tactic not to externalise the threat is meant to hide their incompetence. And yet, they find it expedient to allege “foreign hands”, which is a stick to beat the local political opposition with.
It is hardly consoling when India’s Home Minister Rajnath Singh argues that only a handful of Indian youths, considering the country’s large population, have gone to fight for IS.
Given any label — Pakistan-based Lashkar-e-Taiba and Jaish-e-Mohammed, Indian Mujahideen and Students Islamic Movement of India (SIMI), among 38 others, or Bangladesh’s Jama’atul Mujahideen Bangladesh (JMB) and Ansar-ul-Islam — most have external affiliations.
Most of Pakistan’s militant groups are divided between the two transnational bodies. The Nawaz Sharif government is battling the armed presence of Arabs and Central Asians of different nationalities after they were hosted for long. Other South Asians have been spared this.
A tendency that is gradually giving way among apologists of faith-based violence is attributing it to poverty and illiteracy. Incident after incident of violence has shown involvement of highly educated, cyber-savvy youths. They gather information and inspiration from the Internet and set up propaganda network to influence other youths.
The poor and the illiterate, like Pakistan’s Ajmal Kasab, convicted for the 2008 Mumbai terror attacks, are only foot soldiers who do it to give their families better lives and for the hope of ending up in heaven. This is a given.
Terror-related violence is on the rise — Paris, Brussels, Kabul, Istanbul and now Dhaka. Add to them Baghdad, where over 200 were killed, and suicide bombers hitting three Saudi cities, including the Prophet’s Mosque in Medina. More attacks are being officially announced, with likely targets across America and Europe. The only element of anticipation and surprise is when and where.
Last week, Bangladesh’s first “Mumbai style” terror attack took place at a cafeteria in Dhaka’s downtown Gulshan. Inspector-General of Police AKM Shahidul Hoque confirmed that the attackers who killed 20 hostages were all locals. They went to elite institutions. Two had studied at Malaysia’s Monash University.
From well-off families, they reportedly drew inspiration from Indian preachers Mehdi Biswas of Bangalore and Mumbai’s Zakir Naik. Biswas is detained. Naik, his entry banned in countries from Canada to Britain, is at large.
Practising moderate Islam, Bangladesh has a strong Sufi tradition. But many of its young are growing amidst sectarian discourse preached by Jamaat-e-Islami, the country’s largest Islamist party, and groups that run numerous foreign-funded seminaries.
This is not new or sudden. Fifteen years of military-led rule (1975-90) and 10 years under Begum Khaleda Zia (1991-96 and 2001-2006) ensured their long, strong lives.
In the 1990s, after Afghanistan’s war against the erstwhile Soviet Union ended, the Bangladeshi mujahideen returned home with the zeal to make Bangladesh “a truly Islamic nation”.
More than 8,000 more Bangladeshi youths are said to have returned after being trained in terror camps abroad, according to its home minister. They have strengthened the JMB and other militant bodies.
Bangladesh’s efforts in tackling extremism and militancy have been commended by the United States and India. A decade ago, Bangladesh was gripped by fundamentalist violence. The government has over the years confronted them, with mixed results.
Driven by personal rivalry and representing two competing political legacies, the two women leaders have approached the issue differently. Zia, in alliance with the Islamists, condoned the militant groups and remained in denial mode for long till Western pressures forced her to act. In contrast, Hasina has pursued them, also since three known assassination attempts on her, she is herself their target.
Her “war crimes” trial of former militia leaders who killed rebels and religious minorities during the 1971 movement has only exacerbated violence.
Hasina is careful to stay within the ambit imposed in an Islamic polity. Thus, constitutionally, Bangladesh is an Islamic Republic, something she inherited, but also a secular republic.
Constitutional complexities apart, Hasina’s achievement on countering militancy remains limited. Using machetes and cleavers, extremists have killed more than 40 people they considered atheists, writers, bloggers and Hindu and Buddhist priests.
Under her watch, writer Taslima Nasreen was forced into exile and remains her strident critic. In the wake of the Gulshan terror attack, she is as critical of Hasina as Zia is.
Drawing a larger picture, Bangladesh’s polity is seriously dysfunctional and divided on political lines. This has affected the governance adversely. No government in a state of disarray can effectively fight terrorism.
There are prospects of Bangladesh becoming a battleground for al-Qaeda and IS. Both have made clear they want to assert themselves in Bangladesh. In 2014, al-Qaeda leader Ayman al-Zawahiri issued a call for jihad there, and Bangladesh has been a focus of recent articles in the militant IS group’s online magazine, Dabiq.
The purported leader of IS fighters in Bangladesh, Sheikh Abu Ibrahim al-Hanif, has told the magazine that Bangladesh has a “strategic geographic position” for global jihad. A strong base there would facilitate “guerilla attacks inside India, and provide a stepping stone for jihad in Myanmar”. There could not be a bigger warning.
Postscript: Indians should remember that two Bangladeshi youths — Faraaz and Abinta — gave their lives in trying to save Indian girl Tarishi Jain. Like some others, they, too, could have recited the Quran, spoken in local Bengali dialect and escaped. They chose to stand and die with their friend.
Mahendra Ved is NST’s New Delhi correspondent. He is president of the Commonwealth Journalists Association and a consultant with ‘Power Politics’ monthly magazine. He has co-authored two books, ‘Afghan Turmoil: Changing Equations (1998)’ and ‘Afghan Buzkhashi: Great Games and Gamesmen (2000)’. He also lectures at the Indian Institute of Mass Communications