Documentary Photographer Anne de Henning discusses previously unseen photos from the Bangladesh Liberation War

Anne de Henning has been boldly photographing people and places from around the globe for decades, beginning from when she hopped on the Trans-Siberian Railway to cover the US war in Vietnam at the age of 23.

The French photojournalist lived in Hong Kong, where she worked extensively across Southeast Asia, photographing tribes in Laos, Thailand and Borneo, and spent much of the 1970s and ‘80s documenting the inhabitants, architecture and culture of India.

Her urgent, eye-catching and humanist work has filled the pages of prestigious publications such as Vogue, Le Monde, National Geographic and The New York Times. Yet at least a dozen images taken during a pivotal moment in Southeast Asia’s history – the Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971 that Anne de Henning covered over five days – might never have been seen again.

But thanks to the Samdani Art Foundation and its founders desire to commemorate the 50-year independence of Bangladesh, the photographer’s images of the war between West and East Pakistan – previously tucked away in newsroom archives – were finally unearthed and brought to public attention after decades of obscurity.

Witnessing History in the Making: Photographs by Anne de Henning, Bangladesh 1971-1972 opened in Dhaka, Bangladesh, in December 2021. It marked the first time these images had been exhibited, and which included perhaps the only remaining colour images of Bangabandhu, the ‘father of the nation’ Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.

We spoke to Anne de Henning about her experience during the Liberation War: discussing her arresting crowd images full of national pride, the families forced to flee to India to escape genocidal violence, the tenacity of the Mukti Bahini guerilla forces in repelling East Pakistan’s military junta, and her opinion of the country’s development 50 years after it won its independence.

DP: Hi Anne. Thank you for presenting your work and opening up my eyes to Bangladesh’s history, something that I knew nothing about before. I’d like to start by asking, what motivated you to become a photojournalist in the first place, and in particular, to venture into conflict zones like Vietnam?

AH: When I grew up, there was no TV at home. Discovering the world further afield was through the reading of books and magazines. I still have tear sheets of Paris Match and LIFE magazine, with extensive colour features on world sites and black and white coverage of major political events.

I distinctly remember a double spread of a large gathering of Soviet apparatchiks watching from the Kremlin as an impressive parade filed through the Red Square to celebrate the anniversary of the October Revolution. I also remember more dramatic images of the brutal Soviet repression of the Hungarian uprising in 1956, which were taken by a French photographer who was killed while photographing the event.

What I found most compelling about photography was its capacity to convey dramatic events happening across the world. This is how I developed an early interest in photography.

In 1968 the news was very much about the war in Vietnam. That’s when I decided to become a photographer; to be on the spot, to document and share the life of the people caught in such extreme situations.

DP: Your current exhibition focuses on photographs taken during two visits to Bangladesh, the first being shortly after the Liberation War began in 1971. How did you feel embarking on this journey into former East Pakistan, particularly as foreign journalists were being systematically deported from the country and guerrilla forces (the Mukti Bahini) were fighting for Bangladeshi independence against West Pakistan and its military forces?

AH: The ban and clamp down by the Pakistani authorities provided me with a strong incentive to enter the country. From the start there were rumours about the massacre of the civilian population. Obviously, the Pakistani authorities had a lot to hide. That’s what motivated me to document the fighting of the Mukti Bahini and the plight of the people fleeing bombardment and massacres.

Also, being familiar with the history of South Asia and the momentous victory of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s Awami League in the December 1970 elections, you could sense history was in the making with the foreseeable birth of a nation. Those were exciting times. I didn’t want to miss that.

DP: That sense of excitement is definitely palpable in your work, along with a vivid range of other impressions: for example, the anxiety of upheaval as thousands of families sought refuge in neighbouring India, or the devastation of homes turned to rubble by Pakistani jets. What was the mood on the ground like during the five days you were in Bangladesh documenting the war ?

AH: After I crossed the border, a few miles inside the country, a handful of Mukti Bahini carrying old Lee Enfield rifles stepped out of a wooden hut. Fluttering on its side atop a tall bamboo pole was the green, red and yellow Bangladesh flag. Smiling young men wearing khaki shorts and worn-out shirts greeted us with the words, “You are now in free Bangladesh!” They thrust their fists high. Impassioned cries resounded in the thick silence of the early April, blistering hot afternoon. They exclaimed “Joi Bangla! Victory to Bangladesh!” And added “You must tell the world about us”.

We travelled by jeep, boat, train, and at every station a crowd of men – young and old – gathered to meet us. We were the first members of the press to proceed beyond Kushtia in weeks. They all raised their fists and chanted with passion, “Joy Bangla”.

At Kumarkhali, a student came into our compartment and said, with excitement in his voice, “I’m coming from Dacca. They have killed 15 of my student friends. They have murdered my teachers. The university is in ruins. Hundreds of students have been massacred. They have killed girls too. They chase and massacre intellectuals. They want to destroy our culture and our elite. Tell the world, in the name of civilisation, what they are doing to our people.”

I also travelled on roads where hundreds of refugees, men, women and children were carrying what little they could save. They proceeded on foot or horse carts to flee the Pakistani advance and the threat of massacre. They were careful not to form long lines along the roads to avoid strafing by the Pakistani Saber jets. I also photographed families fleeing to safety, boarding refugee trains in Kushtia, Pangsha and Kumarkhali, leaving behind all that made their lives to face an uncertain future.

All in all, about ten million people would reach India during the Liberation War, which ended on 16 December 1971 with the victory of the freedom fighters supported by the Indian military forces.

DP: You really were capturing history in the making. I mean, these photographs vividly illustrate a country galvanised by a common purpose: to defend its freedom and ensure the Bangladeshi people’s right to shape their own future, rather than tyrannical politicians in West Pakistan. Was this your initial motivation while you were in the country? Did you have a clear sense of what you wanted to achieve before you returned to India?

AH: As a photographer, in the early days of the conflict after the Pakistani authorities had closed the country to members of the press, the challenge was to get in and out of the country as quickly as possible to end a two-week news blackout.

Once inside the country, what struck me most was the poor military armaments the Mukti Bahini were ready to fight with to achieve the independence of their country. Everywhere we went, crowds of men gathered around asking us to convey to the world their dire need for modern military equipment and foreign intervention.

In Kushtia, I photographed a bare-chested young man wrapped in a lungi walking briskly to join his combat unit, with an old 303 Lee Enfield rifle slung across his shoulder. A small wicker basket containing his few belongings was hanging on his side. He was obviously on his way to join his combat unit. I find this image representative of both his willingness to fight and the poor equipment of the Mukti Bahini.

In Pangsha, I was struck by a group of freedom fighters, including young boys, demonstrating their readiness to fight with bows and arrows, who said they were ready to die to achieve the creation of the independence of Bangladesh.

My aim was to convey to the world the dire need of the freedom fighters for modern military equipment and the plight of the civilian population fleeing their homes to escape bombardment and massacre by the advancing Pakistani military.

DP: Can you tell me the story behind the image captioned ‘Anne de Henning in a truck with a Mukti Bahini, Kushtia, April 8, 1971’. It’s got a fascinating contradiction of impressions. You yourself look calm and poised as you sit staring into Michel Laurent’s camera. Yet the Mukti Bahini soldier beside you appears very apprehensive, tentatively holding a rifle and looking ill-prepared for warfare.

AH:  Yes, you can read the apprehension on the poorly equipped Mukti Bahini’s face.  It is one of many photographs that show how ill-prepared the freedom fighters were. But that didn’t stop their determination to fight and their readiness to die to achieve freedom.

As for myself, it’s easy to remain calm and poised when it was your own decision to put your life at risk (I was freelancing) and when “back to normal” awaits you on the other side of the border. In Goalondo Ghat, after the Pakistani army crossed the Padma River, I was caught up during the night in heavy cross-fire. But it only fleetingly crossed my mind that things could have ended differently.

DP:  That photo was one of two taken by fellow French photographer Michel Laurent (1946-1975), who was co-winner of the Pulitzer Prize for the series “Death in Dacca”. How did you two become acquainted and how did your paths cross in Bangladesh? 

AH: Well, I was photographing in Kathmandu when I heard that fighting had erupted in Dacca [now Dakha] and that Pakistani authorities had closed the country to members of the press. That’s when I decided to fly to Calcutta in order to get into East Pakistan and return with photographs documenting the conflict. I found out soon after that Pakistani Forces had launched Operation Searchlight, on the night of 25 March 1971, when they began perpetrating a widespread massacre of the civilian population.

Once in Calcutta and after two failed attempts to cross the border on my own, I teamed up with three fellow members of the press corps: photographer Michel Laurent, AP correspondent Dennis Neeld, and CBS correspondent Patrick Forest. I’d never met them before, but they were as determined as I was to break the ban and I was confident we’d succeed.

On April 7th, we hired a beaten-up Ambassador car, loaded it with three volatile jerrycans filled with petrol, and drove out to the East Pakistan border. I returned to Calcutta on April 11th. The aim was to get in and out of the country as quickly as possible to end the two-week news blackout.

That’s how I met Michel Laurent. I specialised in South Asia at the time and was largely based in Hong Kong.  Our paths never crossed again. It was very sad and tragic that he would be the last photographer to die in Vietnam, a day before the fall of Saigon that ended the war.

DP: Before this show debuted in Dhaka, Bangladesh in December 2021, I believe these photographs had never been shown before. Why was that?

AH: In April 1971, I’d sent my films from Calcutta to Paris to the Gamma photo agency. Some of these photographs must have been distributed at that time. In those days, after being published in daily newspapers and weekly magazines, news photographs disappeared into archives. For a long time to come there would be no internet to disseminate news widely and instantly, and no image banks to consult or purchase such photographs online. What I realised when these images were rediscovered is that news coverage has a very short lifespan. It vanishes out of sight very quickly, but it takes many years to turn into history and be rediscovered as such.

If it hadn’t been for the Samdani Art Foundation wanting to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the independence of Bangladesh and honour Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s memory with an exhibition of my photographs, these images, which they’d heard about by chance, would have never come back to light.

DP: And how did it feel going back to Bangladesh for the opening of your exhibition? How would you say things have changed in the country 50 years after you witnessed its genesis back in 1971?

AH: The last time I’d been in Bangladesh was in April 1972 to photograph Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. I remembered streets busy with bicycles and rickshaws, lined with two to three story houses, with a lot of empty space and very few cars.

50 years later and I arrived in Dhaka on Victory Day, the day marking the end of the war and celebrating the independence of the country. As I walked through dense crowds of young people and large families, waving the small green and red flags of Bangladesh, I realised that most of the people around me were born after 1971. This was to me an entirely new country.

I was amazed by the considerable development of the capital where I stayed. I discovered a modern metropolis of 22 million inhabitants, full of large avenues lined with high-rise buildings. As an example of the many transformations happening as we speak, the first flyover metro line was being inaugurated a week after I left Dhaka in order to relieve the mammoth traffic jams that clog the city.

DP: Finally, what are your plans for the future? Do you intend to tour this show following its run in Paris? Are there any new projects in the pipeline, or is there the possibility of a retrospective exhibition that sheds light on your decades-strong practice as a whole?

AH: Since the show opened at the Musée Guimet in Paris in October last year, it’s had another run in Dhaka following its first run there in December 2021 to March 2022. I’m very keen on the exhibition travelling, but there aren’t any confirmed plans yet. It was very important to me that the exhibition would be shown in Bangladesh first before taking it anywhere else.