Conspiracy theories alleging The Unfinished Memoirs was ghostwritten by 123 officials are baseless, confusing it with a separate archival project. Bongobondhu's 1967-69 jail notebooks, verified by facsimiles and corroborated by media, confirm his authorship. These claims lack evidence and aim to undermine a vital historical text chronicling Bengal's fight against oppression. Mujib's legacy remains authentic and unassailable.

Claims that Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s The Unfinished Memoirs was ghostwritten by 123 officials are baseless. The text is rooted in Mujib’s 1967–69 jail notebooks, preserved in facsimile, corroborated by contemporaneous media, and consistent with his nationalist politics. The conspiracy confuses Mujib’s autobiography with an entirely different archival project. Such disinformation is not an innocent mistake—it is a calculated attempt to weaken Bengal’s memory of its liberation struggle. Did Sheikh Mujibur Rahman really need 123 ghostwriters to tell the story of his childhood, his activism, and his dream of a free Bengal? The very idea borders on the absurd. Yet in the turbulent wake of Bangladesh’s recent political upheavals, a wave of conspiracy theories has emerged claiming that The Unfinished Memoirs—a cornerstone of Bengali nationalist history—was fabricated by former IGP Mohammad Javed Patwary and a team of officials. These claims, amplified by sensationalist media and echo chambers online, are not harmless speculation. They are disinformation designed to erode the foundations of

Bongobondhu’s legacy. As someone committed to historical truth, I argue that these accusations crumble under scrutiny. They rest on a deliberate conflation of two entirely separate bodies of work, lack any substantive evidence, and collapse in the face of overwhelming documentary, textual, and historical proof that the memoirs are indeed Mujib’s own words. The Source of the Rumors The allegations originated from documents allegedly uncovered by Bangladesh’s Special Branch of police in August 2025, suggesting Patwary and his team were rewarded with cash and apartments for ghostwriting Mujib’s autobiography. A legal notice has even demanded an official probe into whether Mujib wrote the text at all. But this narrative unravels upon closer inspection. The supposed “evidence” confuses The Unfinished Memoirs with a very different project: the 14-volume Secret Documents of the Intelligence Branch on Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. That series—published under Sheikh Hasina’s oversight—compiles 48,000 pages of declassified Pakistani intelligence files. Patwary and his officers played a technical role: scanning, transcribing,…

We must admit that what happened in July – August 2024 is not a “revolution”. The present government is not a legitimate government and they do have any authority to issue a charter, whatsoever.

Kant, Weber and Other Philosophers

The so-called July 2024 “Colour Revolution” in Bangladesh, which led to the collapse of Sheikh Hasina’s long-standing government and the formation of an interim government, has been widely celebrated as a democratic breakthrough. Yet, from the perspectives of Immanuel Kant, Max Weber, and several contemporary theorists, this revolution raises serious questions about its philosophical and sociological legitimacy. This came to my attention while talking with another author Jahanara Nuri, who has already published an article on this platform after Yunus announced a “July Charter” at the anniversary of the so-called “revolution”.  We must admit that what happened in July – August 2024 is not a “revolution”. However, the National Citizens Party (NCP), Bangladesh Jamat-e-Islami (BJI) and its students’ wing Islami Chatra Shibir (ICS), and other Islamist right wing political parties are claiming it as “revolution”, while Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) and left-wing political parties are claiming it as “mass uprising” or “resurgence”. The Bangladesh Awami League and its allies are claiming

it as a “coup”, since it is a part of a “meticulous design” as Yunus and his team claimed it. After having this conversation with Jahanara Nuri, I understood that there is a necessity to explain why philosophically this is not a “revolution”. Hence, in this article I have discussed Kant and Weber’s philosophies to explain why this is not a revolution and why the government lacks the legitimacy to declare this July Charter.    Kant: Revolution Is Morally Impermissible  Immanuel Kant’s political philosophy is grounded in legalism and moral duty. In his Doctrine of Right, part of the Metaphysics of Morals, Kant categorically states:   “There is… no right to sedition, still less to rebellion, and least of all is there a right against the head of a state… to attack his person or even his life on the pretext that he has abused his authority.”  Kant’s rejection of revolution stems from his belief that law is the condition…

The OHCHR MoU and the US NDA aren’t isolated events—they’re interlocking tools in a new strategy to turn Bangladesh into a geopolitical corridor. Under the guise of rights and trade, they erode sovereignty, silence resistance, and open the floodgates to foreign control. This isn’t partnership. It’s prelude to possession—with a handshake, not a hammer.

Introduction: Sovereignty by Stealth In July 2025, two international agreements quietly positioned themselves at the heart of Bangladesh’s geopolitical destiny. One was a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) signed between Bangladesh and the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR), granting the UN body a permanent presence in Dhaka. The other was a leaked draft of a proposed Non-Disclosure Agreement (NDA) between Bangladesh and the United States, setting the terms for deepened bilateral cooperation—on Washington’s terms. Individually, these instruments might seem routine. Together, they chart the contours of a new and dangerous architecture: Bangladesh as a "corridor nation"—a strategic conduit for Western security and economic interests, locked in from within by humanitarian oversight and from without by asymmetrical trade and security arrangements. This is a story not of occupation by force, but by framework. I. The OHCHR MoU: Human Rights or Hegemony? At first glance, the OHCHR’s new Dhaka office appears to be a benign institutional step—an

extension of international support for Bangladesh’s human rights obligations. Yet this MoU arrives in the aftermath of a political transition shaped by foreign pressure and domestic unrest. Its timing is more than symbolic; it is strategic. The OHCHR’s February 2025 report on protest-related violence conspicuously sidestepped key facts, including attacks on law enforcement and public property. Notably absent were the deaths of police officers and the documented instigation of violence by opposition-aligned groups. By legitimizing a one-sided narrative, the OHCHR's presence becomes more than observational—it becomes constitutive. It reframes political violence as civilian resistance and erases the culpability of coordinated agitators. What’s more troubling is the legal immunity granted under the MoU. UN officials enjoy broad protections under international conventions, often beyond the reach of local judicial oversight. In effect, the OHCHR becomes an untouchable actor within Bangladesh's borders, with privileged access to state institutions, data, and civil society—and no local accountability. While the MoU’s full text has not been…

A water color image of Mahreen and Masuka

 ‘Now we begin to see how Derrida’s notion of ‘sous rature’ differs from that of Heidegger’s. Heidegger’s Being might point at an inarticulable presence. Derrida’s trace is the mark of the absence of a presence, an always already absent present, of the lack at the origin that is the condition of thought and experience.’   [Translator’s Preface in ‘Of Grammatology’ by Jacques Derrida, page: xvii (Translated from French to English by Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, The Johns Hopkins University Press; First Published; Maryland, 1976 and First Indian Edition by Motilal Banarsidass Publishers Private Limited, Delhi).]   Although renowned French philosopher Jacques Derrida had explained the term ‘sous rature (under erasure)’ from a linguistic, philosophical and metaphysical viewpoint, today the epithet ‘sours rature (under erasure)’ is being used from a more comprehensible prism. ‘Under Erasure’ seems equivalent to ‘self-censorship.’ Now what is ‘self-censorship?’ ‘Self-censorship, also known as self-censure, is a phenomenon that occurs when individuals purposefully choose to limit or restrain their own

expression, thoughts, or actions. It often arises out of fear or apprehension of potential consequences, such as social backlash, legal repercussions, or professional harm. While self-censorship can be seen as a means of self-preservation or complying with societal norms, it is a complex and intricate concept that warrants deeper examination (https://psychologyfanatic.com/self-censure/).  To put in more lucid terms: do the authors, journalists or even common people feel ‘self-censured’ before writing anything which may challenge authority, hierarchy or hegemony? Be it state, government, religion, patriarchy, culture or anything with a cumulative force against an ordinary individual or a group of individuals with less power to bargain? How much free are we in the real sense? Can we speak up, write or claim for our just demands within a coercive state machinery?   If Derrida seems too difficult to be understood, novelist Milan Kundera may sound somehow easier who underscored ‘the struggle of man against power as the struggle of memory against forgetting.’ Kundera,…

Al Jazeera’s “36 Days in July” is not journalism—it is a selectively sourced, politically motivated character assassination. By platforming figures tied to extremist groups and omitting critical legal and historical context, it weaponizes leaked audio to vilify Sheikh Hasina and legitimize a coup born of coordinated violence.

1: The Spectacle Disguised as Journalism Al Jazeera’s “HASINA – 36 Days in July” is marketed as an investigative documentary. In truth, it functions as a media indictment. From framing to narration, from sourcing to visual mood-setting, the entire feature seems less interested in investigating the truth than in delivering a preordained verdict: Sheikh Hasina is guilty. Al Jazeera and the BBC, in their respective pieces, center their accusations on a short leaked audio clip — barely 80 seconds long — which they treat as a smoking gun. For the sake of brevity, this article will only focus on Al Jazeera Documentary. This audio captures a voice that has allegedly been attributed to the former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, issuing directives in the midst of a violent uprising. The audio, at the time of publishing, is neither forensically authenticated nor interpreted with journalistic caution. Worse, its use is framed within a montage of insinuations, selective voices, and emotionally charged imagery,

producing what can only be described as trial-by-media. Yet the words themselves offer no blanket order for violence, let alone student killings. The central "evidence" of this so-called investigation — the short leaked audio clip — that this documentary and the BBC feature appeared within days of each other, using the same core audio material and overlapping narrative structure, raises serious questions about coordination — if not lobbying. It is not implausible to suspect that this is not independent journalism but a synchronized narrative push, especially considering the actors it platformed and the timing with an ongoing legal trial. 2: The So-Called Smoking Gun – A Short Audio, A Long Stretch In the audio materials, the individual in question can be heard stating: “I have told them — if necessary, shoot… Students’ lives must be saved… But if anyone creates terror, if there’s no other way — you must act.” The voice in the audio reveals a response to a…

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