Bangladesh: The fallacy of media freedom under Yunus regime

-(Dr Sreoshi Sinha, Senior Fellow, Centre for Joint Warfare Studies
& Abu Obaidha Arin, University of
Delhi.)

 

The persecution of journalists by the state is a grim reality across many authoritarian regimes—from Taliban-ruled Afghanistan to Myanmar, Belarus, Turkiye, and the Philippines. In such contexts, the press—often deemed the “fourth pillar of democracy”—is treated not as a watchdog, but as a threat. Bangladesh is also echoing this global trend. After the fall of the Sheikh Hasina government on August 5, 2024, many viewed the rise of Nobel Laureate Dr Muhammad Yunus as a turning point. Backed by student protests and public sentiment, his appointment as Chief Adviser cum Prime Minister of the interim government was seen as a symbolic “second liberation,” especially for the country’s long-suffocated media. But within months, that promise gave way to disillusionment. Despite initial pledges to restore freedom of expression and uphold democratic values, Yunus’s administration has presided over a deepening assault on press freedom. Journalists, both in urban and rural areas, are now facing threats, fabricated charges, detentions, and brutal attacks. Old laws like the Digital Security Act— once condemned by Yunus himself—remain in force. New regulations, framed in the name of “digital safety,” risk further gagging the media. More troubling still, the government has failed to announce an election date, turning its “interim” status into a prolonged, unaccountable rule. Institutions meant to safeguard democracy have fallen silent or become enablers of repression. The optimism of August has morphed into fear, as the Yunus regime retools authoritarian tactics under the guise of reform. In one year, the Yunus-led government has systematically undermined media freedom in Bangladesh. And hope has curdled into control, and the dream of a freer, more democratic society is slipping further away with each passing day. Behind the laurels lies a familiar hand of repression.   

A Dangerous Time for Free Expression

Freedom of speech, a foundational pillar of democracy, remains under severe threat. Journalists—especially those from minority communities—are facing escalating violence, legal harassment, and coordinated state-backed intimidation. A report released on World Press Freedom Day 2025 paints a bleak picture: within eight months of Dr Yunus taking office, at least 640 journalists were targeted. Of these, 182 faced criminal cases, 206 experienced violence, and 85 were placed under financial scrutiny by the Bangladesh Financial Intelligence Unit. The attacks are not isolated; they are systemic, deliberate, and widespread. From legal persecution to outright physical violence, the Yunus regime has transformed Bangladesh into one of the most dangerous places in Asia to be a journalist. Violence against journalists has become commonplace. In March 2025, two journalists were attacked at Barishal Court, while others were assaulted in Dhaka and outside the Dhaka Reporters’ Unity. The most horrific incident came on March 18, when a woman journalist was gang-raped in Dhaka—a case that drew international outrage, including condemnation from ARTICLE 19 and other watchdogs.

In April, New Age’s Rafia Tamanna and Daily Prantojon’s Sajedul Islam Selim were physically attacked. Offices of news outlets were vandalised. Prothom Alo, a paper accused of being an “agent of India,” saw its Rajshahi office destroyed. These attacks illustrate a dangerous trend: the delegitimisation of critical voices through nationalist propaganda followed by violent suppression. Legal harassment has become a preferred tool to silence dissent. Journalists are being dragged into courtrooms and prisons over flimsy or fabricated charges. Kamruzzaman, a journalist in Satkhira, was sentenced to 10 days in jail by a mobile court for “obstructing government work.” His real crime? Reporting on poor construction work. Rubel Hossain of Dhaka Mail was falsely implicated in a murder case related to student protests. Three prominent journalists—Naem Nizam, Moynal Hossain Chowdhury, and Syed Burhan Kabir—faced arrest warrants under the much-criticised Digital Security Act. Their only fault: publishing content critical of powerful figures. 

The State vs. Media Institutions

Media institutions haven’t been spared either. An adviser at the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting announced audits targeting “opposition-affiliated” media houses—a move widely viewed as financial intimidation. Deepto TV suspended its news broadcasts following political backlash. ATN Bangla dismissed a reporter for merely raising a sensitive question. In both cases, official denials of state interference were undercut by obvious patterns of state-orchestrated pressure. In a disturbing episode on May 4, journalists at Daily Janakantha protesting unpaid wages were assaulted by goons reportedly linked to the National Citizen Party. This convergence of financial abuse and physical violence has created a stifling environment for critical media. The Yunus government has done little to allay fears about surveillance and data privacy. Instead, it has doubled down with proposed legislation like the Cyber Protection Ordinance 2025 and the Personal Data Protection Ordinance—laws that could further institutionalise censorship and mass surveillance. With travel bans imposed on more than 300 journalists, and bank accounts frozen for over 100 of them, the message is clear: dissent will be crushed not just with batons, but with bureaucracy. Journalists from minority communities are bearing the brunt of the crackdown. Shyamol Dutta, a leading Hindu journalist and editor of Bhorer Kagoj, was jailed after being removed from his post at the National Press Club. Munni Saha, a prominent media personality, is facing several cases and has been detained for questioning. More than 50 minority journalists are reportedly living in fear, with many dismissed from their jobs under opaque circumstances. This pattern reflects not just a press freedom issue, but an assault on the fundamental rights of minority communities.

Targeting Prominent Figures and Media Houses

The arrest of top media professionals like Mozammel Babu, CEO of Ekattor TV, and Syed Ishtiaq Reza, former chief of news at GTV, has shocked the industry. The charges—often murder or conspiracy—lack credibility, pointing to a larger political agenda. In one bizarre move, a complaint filed with the International Crimes Tribunal accused 29 journalists and editors, alongside former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, of spreading “false news to justify genocide.” The charges are outrageous and serve no purpose but to stoke fear and paralyse the press. Even high-profile reporters like Shahnaz Sharmin, known for her fearless on-the-ground reporting, have been named in criminal complaints. Her alleged involvement in the death of a protester is widely seen as a fabricated effort to tarnish her reputation. Dr Yunus’s rise to power was framed as a “second liberation.” His global reputation as a humanitarian and social entrepreneur gave many hope. But the honeymoon was short-lived. The arrest, torture, and surveillance of journalists under his watch signal a complete betrayal of those ideals. Rather than dismantling the oppressive tools of the previous regime, the interim government has inherited and expanded them. Laws are being used as weapons. The courts have turned into instruments of intimidation. And civil liberties—once hoped to be restored—have only deteriorated. Despite the dire situation, there are glimmers of resistance. A Media Reform Commission, proposed by information adviser Nahid Islam, offers a chance for dialogue and reform. But unless these proposals are translated into immediate action—starting with the release of unjustly detained journalists and withdrawal of politically motivated cases— the initiative risks becoming another empty gesture. Civil society must stay vigilant. International watchdogs, human rights organisations, and democratic governments must increase pressure on the Yunus administration. Silence is not neutrality—it is complicity.  

The Fight for Truth Must Go On

In the last 12 months, Bangladesh has moved from the promise of change to the peril of authoritarianism. The interim government led by Dr Muhammad Yunus was expected to restore justice, transparency, and democratic values. Instead, it has turned against the very institutions and individuals that form the backbone of a functioning democracy—the free press. The persecution of journalists, the weaponisation of laws, the sidelining of minority voices, and the unending delay of elections paint a grim portrait of a government losing legitimacy by the day. If Yunus does not act swiftly to reverse this trend, he risks eroding not only his reputation but also the democratic foundation of the country. Bangladesh’s journalists are not just chroniclers of events—they are defenders of democracy, truth, and public interest. Silencing them will not silence the truth. It will only delay the reckoning. The time for reform is now—before the darkness of repression becomes permanent

Talibanisation of Bangladesh?

With the ouster of Sheikh Hasina, Bangladesh has witnessed a disquieting transformation that has sent ripples of concern across its socio-political and cultural landscape. Images and videos of the student-led July uprising—once hailed as a breath of fresh air—now stand juxtaposed against the vandalism of murals and statues of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the Father of the Nation. Religious sites and properties belonging to minorities have come under attack, raising an alarming question: Is Bangladesh facing a Taliban-like takeover, akin to what Afghanistan endured?

Initially, such concerns were dismissed—often mocked—as exaggerated alarmism by optimistic observers who celebrated the so-called ‘second liberation’. Yet, nearly ten months into this ‘new Bangladesh’, the unfolding reality on the ground increasingly vindicates those early apprehensions. The promise of the July uprising, which inspired a youthful generation eager for a free, democratic, just, and pluralistic nation, now seems betrayed by a rapid and disconcerting political and cultural regression. How did Bangladesh veer so sharply from those aspirations after 5 August? The answer lies in the silent complicity of the interim government, which has chosen the path of the Quiet Game.

The Quiet Game: Enabling a Rise of Fundamentalism

Two recent incidents illustrate the creeping fundamentalism taking root. In Tangail, the screening of a movie was cancelled following protests from local Islamic groups. In Sylhet and Tangail, tourists celebrating Eid faced disruptions by similar groups. The charges leveled? Alleged promotion of obscenity and vulgarity during the sacred Eid week. These examples, seemingly minor, hint at a larger, more troubling pattern—where Islamic fundamentalist forces are increasingly policing public morality and curtailing freedoms.

This resurgence of religious fundamentalism is not spontaneous; it has been growing steadily since the formation of the interim government tasked with reforms after the removal of Sheikh Hasina’s government. The period has opened up spaces for extremist ideologies, endangering the secular and pluralistic fabric painstakingly woven into Bangladesh’s national identity.

Historical Context: The Roots of Bangladesh’s Secular Identity

Bangladesh’s pluralism and secularism are neither accidental nor superficial constructs. They are deeply rooted in history—particularly the 1971 Liberation War, which was fought to safeguard the Bengali language, culture, and identity against the repressive West Pakistan regime. The war was also a battle against religious fanaticism, symbolized by groups like Jamaat-e-Islami and their armed auxiliaries, who violently opposed Bengali nationalism and targeted the cultural ethos perceived as ‘un-Islamic’.

For Bangladeshis, pride in their unique identity remains paramount—a nation born out of sacrifice to protect its linguistic and cultural heritage. This historic legacy makes the current surge of Islamic fundamentalism not only a political threat but a direct challenge to the very essence of Bangladesh’s founding ethos.

Exploiting the Power Vacuum: Fundamentalists on the March

The political upheaval created by Sheikh Hasina’s ouster has emboldened Islamic fundamentalist groups, most notably Hizb-ut-Tahrir—a banned organisation during the previous government’s tenure. Seizing the opportunity, Hizb-ut-Tahrir has reemerged, publicly demanding the establishment of an Islamic Caliphate in Bangladesh. Islamic political parties are actively negotiating with the interim government to replace the secular 1972 Constitution with Islamic sharia law, effectively turning Bangladesh into an Islamic state.

This agenda is no secret. The hardline groups have taken to the streets with alarming zeal, targeting cultural and social events under the guise of eradicating ‘un-Islamic’ activities. The name “Towhidi Janata” has become synonymous with this wave of moral vigilantism—ubiquitous at festivals, cultural celebrations, and public gatherings, their mission is clear: to suppress cultural expressions that do not conform to their stringent interpretation of Islam.

The Assault on Culture: A War on Pluralism

One cannot overlook the symbolic significance of the cancellations and disruptions. The Lalon Mela—an annual festival honouring Lalon Fakir, a mystic poet who represents the core values of tolerance and cultural diversity—was forcibly cancelled in Narayanganj after threats from Islamic groups. Similarly, festivals celebrating tolerance and pluralism have been obstructed by Hefazat-e-Islam and other hardliners, who denounce the festival’s philosophies as ‘contradictory to Islam.’

The famed Basanta Utsav (Spring Festival) too suffered a similar fate, canceled amid threats. These cancellations are unprecedented in Bangladesh’s history and serve as a stark warning sign for the nation’s cultural health. The Amar Ekushey book fair, an iconic annual literary event commemorating the Language Movement martyrs, faced protests led by Towhidi Janata when a stall displayed books by Taslima Nasrin—a writer demonized by Islamist hardliners for her outspoken secularism and criticism of religious orthodoxy. The ensuing altercation and forced closure of the stall revealed how freedom of expression, especially dissenting voices, might be strangled under an increasingly Islamist regime.

Even Pohela Baishakh, the Bengali New Year and Bangladesh’s largest cultural festival, came under attack. Hardliners branded it as an ‘India-imposed Hindu festival’ and pressured organizers to rename the event from Mangal Shobhajatra to Barshabaran Ananda Shobhajatra, diluting its cultural resonance. Attacks on the Dhaka Eid procession, accusing it of featuring ‘idol-like’ symbols, illustrate an unwillingness to embrace the syncretic nature of Bengali Islamic culture—a culture shared and celebrated by both Muslims and non-Muslims alike.

The hardliners’ ideological narrowness was further exposed during Ramzan, when Jamaat-e-Islami led protests enforcing a daytime shutdown of eateries, disregarding Islamic allowances for exemptions to fasting. Such actions betray an agenda more political than religious, seeking to control social life and suppress diversity.

Gender and Moral Policing: A Targeted Attack on Women

The rise of Islamist fundamentalism is also marked by an intensification of anti-women ideologies. Women’s football tournaments have been vandalized, canceled under threats citing Islamic values. Towhidi Janata has opposed women’s public presence in social venues, harassed women for dress codes, and openly engaged in moral policing. Physical assaults on women for perceived ‘immodesty’ have become disturbingly commonplace, often with implicit or explicit backing from Islamist factions.

Even women’s rights institutions have come under fire, with Islamic parties vocally opposing reports highlighting gender inequalities. This reflects the deep-seated misogyny embedded in the Islamist vision for Bangladesh, which stands in stark contrast to the country’s progressive strides in women’s empowerment over past decades.

The Role of the Interim Government: Silent Enabler

What is most troubling is the interim government’s near-complete silence in the face of these alarming developments. The government has chosen passivity—akin to children playing the ‘Quiet Game’—allowing Islamist hardliners to expand their influence unchecked. Law enforcement agencies have largely failed to intervene, sending a signal of tacit approval or, at best, unwillingness to confront fundamentalist violence.The Yunus-led interim administration’s removal of ‘secularism,’ ‘nationalism,’ and ‘socialism’ from the new state principles marks a deliberate ideological shift. This removal is not merely symbolic; it clears the constitutional path for the ascendancy of Islamic law and governance. Combined with the government’s inaction against fundamentalist incursions into public life, this new political reality is steering Bangladesh toward a Talibanisation under the guise of a ‘second liberation.’

The Cost of ‘Second Liberation’

This ‘second liberation,’ far from delivering freedom and justice, risks enslaving Bangladesh to a form of Islamist authoritarianism reminiscent of Taliban rule in Afghanistan. It threatens to erode the hard-won freedoms of speech, religious tolerance, gender equality, and cultural pluralism that define Bangladesh’s unique identity. If unchecked, this Islamist resurgence will not only undermine the nation’s secular foundation but also reverse decades of social progress and democratic development. The tragedy is that the youthful energy and hopes that fuelled the July uprising may soon be crushed under the boots of religious extremism, and the ideals of the Liberation War may be relegated to distant memory.

Conclusion: A Call to Vigilance and Resistance

The Talibanisation of Bangladesh is neither inevitable nor irreversible. It is a product of political choices, social complacency, and ideological neglect. For Bangladesh to reclaim its pluralistic and democratic future, decisive action must be taken to curb the rise of fundamentalism, protect secularism, and uphold constitutional principles that guarantee freedom for all citizens.

The interim government must abandon its passive stance and actively enforce laws against extremist groups, protect cultural expressions, safeguard women’s rights, and restore the foundational ideals of the nation. Civil society, the youth, and international partners also have critical roles to play in resisting the creeping shadow of Talibanisation and ensuring that Bangladesh’s second liberation truly embodies liberation for all its people, not just a select few.

 

Holding onto Chair: The many tactics of Muhammad Yunus

Muhammad Yunus’s popularity is waning as the interim government faces a series of crises, with Bangladesh’s political landscape becoming increasingly complex. This month marks the tenth month since Yunus assumed leadership of the country’s state machinery as the chief advisor of the interim government—formed through the consensus of political parties, civil society, and the military following the ousting of Sheikh Hasina. It was widely expected that the interim government would serve a brief term, similar to previous caretaker administrations, with its primary responsibilities being a) the efficient management of state affairs and b) the facilitation of free and fair elections. In practice, however, the Yunus administration has failed to achieve either objective and has instead undertaken the broader task of state reform through the creation of various reform commissions. Meanwhile, Yunus’s policies and decisions have only exacerbated the challenges faced by the interim government amidst the chaotic conditions that have gripped the nation since 5 August last year. Despite this, Yunus appears to be navigating against the current of the country’s political will. This raises a pertinent question—why is Muhammad Yunus still holding onto office?

Several key developments support this assertion. One such example is the enactment of unconstitutional amendments through the passing of ordinances such as the Cyber Protection Ordinance, amendments to the International Crimes (Tribunals) Act, the Anti-Terrorism Act, and the Enforced Law Ordinance. These ordinances were criticised for being passed unilaterally without any public consultation. More critically, these legislative moves reflect Yunus’s apparent political vendetta—namely, the marginalisation of the Awami League. Two significant developments further reinforce this view: firstly, the deteriorating state of press freedom in Bangladesh, and secondly, the imposed ban on the Awami League.

The Cyber Protection Ordinance, which replaced the stringent Cyber Security Act, was introduced by the interim government with the stated aim of strengthening cyber security. This move followed a period during which press freedom in Bangladesh had been severely eroded under the previous deposed administration. However, the new ordinance has demonstrated a similar tendency to suppress press freedom, as evidenced by the condemnation from rights groups over the revocation of press accreditation for journalists. The retaliatory targeting of journalists critical of Muhammad Yunus and the interim government, documented by the Rights and Risk Analysis Group (RRAG), presents an alarming picture—approximately 640 journalists have been targeted over the past eight months, with 91 reportedly harassed or assaulted in May alone. The charging of journalists with terrorism and other criminal offences—mainly in connection with the July uprising and their alleged ties to the former regime—has been widely criticised as a deliberate effort by the interim government to stifle press freedom. Contrary to the expectations of restored free speech following the July uprising, press freedom remains a critical concern, as highlighted by the latest global ranking from international human rights group Article 19, which categorised Bangladesh as a ‘crisis’ country for freedom of expression.

The amendment to the Anti-Terrorism Act, approved on 11 May, introduced a provision enabling the prohibition of terrorism-related activities by individuals and ‘entities’. Concerns had already emerged that this ordinance would empower the interim government with unchecked authority to suppress political activity, especially given its move to ban the ‘activities’ of the Awami League under pressure from certain political parties. Merely a day after the ordinance’s enactment, the Awami League was officially dissolved—another unilateral measure implemented without public consultation. Though welcomed by parties that had mobilised on the streets demanding this outcome, Yunus’s decision provoked strong international criticism and deepened domestic political divisions, with many viewing it as a violation of democratic norms carried out without due process. The politically driven violence targeting League supporters since Hasina’s departure is well documented, and the ban is seen as a further escalation of such acts under a veil of impunity. These unconstitutional legal interventions have been justifiably identified as the interim government’s erosion of the country’s core human rights and freedoms.

Muhammad Yunus’s proposal in April to establish a humanitarian corridor connecting to Myanmar’s Rakhine region marks the latest instance of his administration’s misjudgement. What distinguishes this issue from previous ones is the rare, unified protest and criticism it drew from all political parties—both established and emerging—arguably the first instance of such consensus since Hasina’s removal.

On one hand, concerns were raised about the geopolitical risks this corridor posed to Bangladesh’s territorial integrity; on the other, questions were directed at the interim government’s unilateral move to propose such an initiative—despite lacking the mandate—without consulting political parties. The proposal also fuelled suspicions that Yunus was favouring the interests of foreign powers at the expense of national sovereignty. Not only political parties, but even the Bangladesh Army expressed disapproval, further highlighting widening tensions with the interim government. The Army Chief firmly rejected the idea of any such “bloody corridor” and instructed Yunus to hold elections by December, prompting the interim government to ultimately withdraw the proposal.

The issue of elections has emerged as the most prominent point of contention against the Yunus administration. The intentional postponement of the national election has not only fuelled divisions among political parties but also hindered meaningful progress in the statebuilding process. Although the interim government initially announced national polls could be held by December 2025, the subsequent extension of the timeline to June 2026 has sparked suspicions and fears that Yunus is deliberately attempting to cling to power. The absence of a clear electoral roadmap—despite repeated requests from political parties—has intensified concerns that the interim government may further delay elections until the following winter. The political impartiality of the interim administration is increasingly under scrutiny, with many viewing Yunus as favouring the newly formed National Citizen’s Party (NCP), and suspecting that the postponement of the elections is a calculated strategy to give the NCP a strategic advantage in the forthcoming vote.

However, the broad consensus among political parties on the urgency of holding early elections—despite their ideological differences—signals a notable shift in the political landscape: time appears to be running out for Muhammad Yunus. The current political climate stands in stark contrast to last August, when Yunus was invited to lead the interim government. The people of Bangladesh are now demanding elections, seeking to exercise their democratic rights and facilitate a smooth political transition. It seems the chief advisor may have grown too accustomed to the power he holds and is now making desperate efforts to remain in office.

An Interim Interlude or an Indefinite Interregnum? A Reflection on Bangladesh’s Transitional Regime Eight Months On

Eight months have elapsed since the resounding crescendo of civic unrest reverberated through the streets of Dhaka and beyond—a movement now etched into contemporary Bangladeshi history as the transformative July Uprising of 2024. The student-led revolt, galvanised by a weary citizenry exhausted by fifteen uninterrupted years of Sheikh Hasina’s increasingly authoritarian reign, precipitated the fall of a regime many had come to regard as synonymous with unbridled majoritarianism and the erosion of democratic norms.

To fill the ensuing political vacuum, and ostensibly to shepherd the country through an equitable and peaceful democratic transition—something many Bangladeshis believe has been perennially elusive—a provisional apparatus of governance was constituted. Thus, on the 8th of August 2024, the Interim Government was born, led by none other than the venerable Dr Muhammad Yunus, Nobel Laureate and paragon of ethical capitalism. He assumed the mantle of Chief Advisor, entrusted with the Herculean task of stabilising a beleaguered state, instituting crucial reforms, and, most crucially, preparing the ground for a free and fair general election that would usher Bangladesh from the throes of perceived fascism into the luminous embrace of democratic revival.

Commencing with a retinue of sixteen advisors—a council subsequently expanded to twenty-one to reflect the national appetite for reform and rejuvenation—the interim regime drew cautious optimism both domestically and abroad. Dr Yunus was even featured in Time magazine’s list of the 100 most influential people for his pivotal role in “steering Bangladesh toward democracy following last year’s student-led uprising.” And yet, beneath this veneer of progress, the state of the nation has grown only more labyrinthine, with multiple fault lines deepening. As we stand at the octagonal milestone of this transitional government, it is both timely and imperative to evaluate its performance through several key prisms.

Of Persecution and Prejudice: Minorities under Siege

One of the most tragic ironies of this so-called democratic rebirth has been the abrupt surge in attacks on religious minorities. Far from heralding a new era of inclusivity, the post-Hasina epoch has witnessed a disturbing uptick in communal hostilities—many of which are allegedly orchestrated by groups vehemently opposed to the former regime. Between the 5th and 25th of August alone, over a thousand communal incidents were recorded, including acts of arson, looting, desecration of places of worship, and targeted violence against individuals from religious minorities.

While communal violence is regrettably not a novel phenomenon in Bangladesh’s socio-political landscape, the interim government’s response—or lack thereof—has been particularly dispiriting. Rather than acknowledging the sectarian undertones of these attacks, the authorities have consistently downplayed them as “politically motivated incidents,” even going so far as to label the media’s coverage as “exaggerated”. This obfuscation culminated in October during the sacred Durga Puja celebrations, when a spate of violent attacks against Hindus drew national and international opprobrium. The interim government’s rather sheepish declaration of “collective failure” offered scant solace to the victims.

To compound the travesty, when Hindu communities rallied in protest, several of their spiritual leaders were unceremoniously detained on charges of sedition. This chilling sequence of events exposes the interim authority’s alarming refusal to confront what appears to be a systemic pattern of persecution—raising profound concerns about the fate of minorities in the so-called “New Bangladesh.”

Unrest in the Hills: The Forgotten Frontiers

Parallel to the plight of religious minorities is the deteriorating condition of Bangladesh’s ethnic communities, particularly those inhabiting the restive Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT). Since September of last year, the CHT has become a crucible of ethnic tension and conflict, with over 200 documented instances of human rights violations. The alleged complicity of the Bangladesh Army, which is believed to be tacitly supporting the interim regime, adds a sinister dimension to this unfolding crisis.

These violations include unlawful land grabs, destruction of indigenous properties, and systemic harassment by Bengali settlers and law enforcement agencies. Despite repeated calls for action, the interim government has remained conspicuously inert, preferring instead to label the crisis as an “internal administrative matter”—a semantic sleight of hand that serves only to trivialise the gravity of the situation.

While the 1997 Peace Accord promised autonomy and protection to the indigenous populations, its implementation remains elusive. The government’s reluctance to engage indigenous leaders or uphold their cultural and political rights betrays a troubling inclination to placate fundamentalist factions at the expense of pluralism. Recent incidents, such as the abduction of five university students and the rape of an ethnic minority girl, have further inflamed tensions. Yet, Home Advisor Lt Gen (Retd) Md Jahangir Alam Chowdhury blithely claimed that “the hills are more peaceful than ever”—a statement that borders on Orwellian absurdity.

A Mobocracy in the Making

The culture of lawlessness has not restricted itself to minority communities. Indeed, the entire country seems to be held hostage to a rapidly metastasising mob culture. Vigilante groups—emboldened by a palpable sense of impunity—have been marauding through cities and towns, targeting anyone perceived to be an affiliate or sympathiser of the erstwhile Awami League regime. Acts of vandalism and public lynching have become grotesquely normalised, and the interim government has responded with a silence that is deafening.

Perhaps the most symbolic manifestation of this new anarchy was the “Bulldozer Procession” that desecrated 32 Dhanmondi—the erstwhile residence of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. Rather than issuing a robust denunciation, the interim regime deflected blame onto the fallen Prime Minister herself, accusing her of provoking the unrest. When voices from civil society rose in protest, the government responded not with contrition but with coercion, launching the ominously titled “Operation Devil Hunt.”

This sweeping initiative purported to neutralise disruptive elements. In reality, it served as a mechanism to incarcerate scores of Awami League loyalists under flimsy pretexts. Far from curbing mob violence, the operation revealed a thinly veiled vendetta masquerading as law enforcement. The Home Advisor’s assertion that “law and order remains satisfactory” is not only disingenuous but dangerously delusional.

Theocratic Tendencies: A Secular State in Peril

Perhaps the most alarming transformation under the interim dispensation has been the creeping ascendancy of religious fundamentalism. Groups like Towhidi Janata, believed to be fronting for the ultra-conservative Hefazat-e-Islam, have taken to the streets with disturbing regularity, disrupting cultural festivals and imposing their puritanical mores upon the public sphere. Events celebrating Lalon Shah, Basanta Utsav, and even Pahela Baishakh have come under attack, derided as “un-Islamic” by these self-styled guardians of morality.

Even more perturbing is the group’s open advocacy for the replacement of Bangladesh’s secular legal framework with an interpretation of Sharia, and, more audaciously, the establishment of a Khilafat—a theocratic caliphate—in place of the current democratic system. The interim government’s reaction? Tepid at best, complicit at worst! There has been a conspicuous absence of any concrete initiative to counteract these regressive forces.

In fact, the government’s acquiescence has emboldened fundamentalist demands, which are now influencing constitutional reform dialogues. Proposals to remove secularism, socialism, and nationalism as foundational tenets of the state are reportedly on the table—an alarming development that threatens to dismantle the very ethos upon which Bangladesh was founded.

An Election Deferred? The Mirage of Democratic Transition

And what of the interim government’s raison d’être—its solemn promise to oversee a timely and transparent general election? Here, too, there is more ambiguity than assurance. Dr Yunus recently floated a tentative window for the polls—between December 2025 and July 2026—following increasing pressure from political quarters. Yet, no definitive electoral roadmap has been divulged.

The Home Advisor’s controversial statement that the people are “requesting” the interim government to remain in power for an additional five years has only intensified suspicion. Is this interim arrangement morphing into a pseudo-permanent regime? Political parties have already begun voicing their discontent, arguing that reforms must follow elections, not precede them. After all, the interim government, lacking constitutional legitimacy, was never intended to substitute a democratically elected dispensation.

A Promise Deferred, a Nation in Flux

After eight months of governance, the interim government finds itself on precarious terrain. Far from guiding Bangladesh towards the promised land of democratic rejuvenation, it has instead presided over an era marked by increased intolerance, emboldened fundamentalism, and institutional inertia. Minority groups are under siege, mob rule festers, and the secular fabric of the nation is unravelling thread by thread.

Without swift course correction, the vision of “Bangladesh 2.0”—a vibrant, pluralistic democracy—risks becoming a mirage in a desert of disillusionment. The interim government must remember that it was borne out of revolution, not resignation. The people did not depose a despot only to be ruled by the shadows of chaos and indecision. The hour is late, the stakes are high, and history shall not be kind to procrastinators.