Criticism of Sheikh Hasina’s more than 15 years in power can be made with substantial evidence—recent investigations, including the August 7 report, provide plenty of grounds. However, in doing so, our nation’s struggle for independence—our greatest collective achievement and moment of supreme sacrifice—must never be diminished. The Liberation War is embedded in our hearts, minds, and national identity. Real history will protect its dignity; only distorted versions attempt to undermine it, but those rarely endure.

The July Declaration was expected to set forth a clear vision for the country’s future, rooted in the values of the mass uprising. It was meant to offer a concrete plan for achieving the aspirations long blocked by previous authoritarian governments. Instead, we see yet another attempt at selective historical narrative.

The interim government’s position should rest on an authentic foundation. Yet, what Chief Adviser Prof Muhammad Yunus read—and which is being proposed for constitutional inclusion—appears to be a “cherry-picked” retelling of our past.

The Declaration’s two short paragraphs on the Liberation War note colonial rule, 23 years of “authoritarian Pakistani regime,” and the establishment of Bangladesh through the 1971 war following the March 26 Declaration of Independence. It states that this struggle aimed to build a liberal democratic state based on equality, human dignity, and social justice.

What it omits is striking: the 1952 Language Movement, the first student killings in Pakistan, and the historic 1970 election that gave elected leaders the legitimacy to declare independence and form a government in exile. Without that election, gaining international recognition for our war would have been far harder.

The document also fails to acknowledge the genocide unleashed on March 25, 1971, when the Pakistan Army carried out mass killings of civilians simply for being Bangalee. While the exact death toll remains debated, there is no doubt that hundreds of thousands were murdered. The displacement was massive—10 million refugees fled to India in what the UNHCR described as the largest single refugee crisis of the latter half of the 20th century. Millions more were internally displaced, enduring disease, hunger, and economic ruin.

Absent too are references to the Mukti Bahini, who were at the forefront of the struggle, and to Dhaka University’s central role in mobilising resistance. There is no mention of the systematic sexual violence inflicted on Bangladeshi women by the Pakistani army, nor the ethnic cleansing that was part of state policy during the war—atrocities well documented in works such as The Vortex by Scott Carney and Jason Miklian.

Prof Yunus himself, during 1971, was an active campaigner abroad, meeting US lawmakers and writing about our struggle, including the genocide. Why, then, does the document he read now omit these truths? And why is there no mention of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the leader who inspired the nation throughout those nine months?

When it comes to the future, the Declaration offers only vague promises—good governance, fair elections, the rule of law, and social justice. Education, employment, poverty reduction, healthcare, women’s rights, and youth opportunities receive no direct focus. Paragraph 26 briefly touches on environmental protection but without concrete strategies.

The absence of youth-focused commitments is particularly glaring, given that it was the youth who drove the July Uprising. Prof Yunus has often praised their role in shaping a better future—yet the document gives them no space.

One paragraph labels Sheikh Hasina’s government as anti-people, autocratic, and responsible for turning Bangladesh into a “failed state.” Many of these criticisms have merit, but calling it a “failed state” ignores facts such as the country’s impending graduation from Least Developed Country status to middle-income status—an achievement this very government declined to delay despite requests from business groups.

The deeper issue is that we remain fixated on historical disputes rather than forging a concrete roadmap for the future. The “July Charter” may eventually detail policy plans, but the Declaration itself should have embedded the aspirations of the July movement.

In the competitive, technology-driven 21st century, our priorities must shift toward quality education, strong work ethics, high productivity, and investment in science, technology, and AI. We have always been ambitious in vision but slow in execution. Decades after independence, our education system still struggles with inefficiency and low standards.

Too often, political forces manipulate history for their own agendas. Textbooks are rewritten with every regime change, erasing authors and altering narratives for partisan ends. This cycle of “tailor-made” history undermines stability and trust. If we repeat this mistake now, we risk losing yet another chance to build a united, forward-looking Bangladesh.

In an era of rapid global change, history deserves accuracy, but the future demands focus. We must get both right—because we may not have the luxury of another opportunity.