To say Bangladesh Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s dramatic ouster shocked the region is an understatement. Few would have foreseen her firmly held power crumble the way it did, unable to withstand the fury and fortitude of students. Their protests offered reason for both intrigue and inspiration.
Reports from Bangladesh pointed to three crucial triggers in the mobilisation of students: when the High Court restored a controversial quota system in employment; then, when dozens of protesters were killed in the government’s crackdown; and later, in response to Ms. Hasina’s derogatory reference to the agitating students. By then, scores of citizens had joined them in solidarity.
It is not easy to fully capture an organic protest that spirals into a mass uprising in real time. As daily news reporters, we cover the most obvious elements of such mobilisations, based on statements, posters, and chants.
The scenes from Bangladesh reminded many of Sri Lanka in 2022, when the ‘Janatha Aragalaya’ (people’s struggle) ousted President Gotabaya Rajapaksa. They took me back to March 2022. Citizens’ street protests were gaining steam in Colombo amid long power cuts and shortage of essential supplies. The island’s economy was crashing, and people were running out of patience. We saw the protests swell within weeks, but did not predict the staggering scenes that would unfold on July 9, of protesters storming the presidential palace. Mr. Gotabaya, too, fled the country and resigned.
Reporters are not expected to predict outcomes. Our job is to follow developments closely, by visiting the spot, talking to people, and following the government’s response. It was important to understand who the protesters were and why they had taken to the streets. Each day offered some learning – about the expanding movement, the diversity of its participants, and their creative and collective effort to sustain it, while chanting “go home, Gota” relentlessly. Protesters, mainly youth, occupied Colombo’s seafront, built a tent city, and stayed put.
Soon the agitations spread to different parts of the country. We could not be present at every protest site, but those of us tracking the story frequently exchanged notes with colleagues we trusted. This was especially important when incidents of violence were reported, like on March 31, 2022. Hundreds of angry protestors gathered outside Mr. Gotabaya’s private residence, after a painful 13-hour-long power cut. Some, who were not part of the protesting group, set a bus on fire in what seemed a deliberate act to provoke violence. Photographers and videographers, as always, bore witness.
In April, fruit seller Chamida Lakshan who had stepped out to find petrol returned home dead. Police had opened fire “to control” the agitating crowd in Rambukkana town, some 100 km north-east of Colombo. The locals who had gathered for his funeral at his modest home were furious. Many said they were done with the Rajapaksas.
On July 22, 2022, the military raided the seaside protest site in Colombo, assaulting the peaceful dissenters, barely 24 hours after President Ranil Wickremesinghe assumed charge. Some of us tried going to the spot after protesters alerted us, but police and army men barred us from entering the area that they had cordoned off. Luckily for us, BBC journalist Anbarasan Ethirajan was staying at a hotel within the restricted area and had rushed to the spot. His shaky visuals recorded amidst charging military men were all we had to understand the violent nature of the pre-dawn attack.
During the Aragalaya months, a combination of spot visits, interviews, colleagues’ impressions, and credible social media updates (except when it was banned) helped us piece together a rapidly evolving story that had no coherent narrative or clear author. Sri Lanka’s protests were both challenging and humbling for journalists. They underscored a crucial element of our work — listening.
meera. srinivasan@thehindu.co.in