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The Diplomat
15 hours ago
- Politics
- The Diplomat
Hasina Had to Fall, But Political Rhetoric Could Imperil Bangladesh's Democracy
Words like 'fascist,' 'revolution,' 'enemy of Islam,' and 'genocide' have been used to describe Hasina's rule. But are any of these labels correct? On August 5, 2024, Sheikh Hasina's Awami League (AL) government fell under the weight of mass protests. The protests began with students challenging an unfair job quota system, but quickly grew into a nationwide uprising against her rule. Workers, professionals, and religious groups joined forces, furious at a government that answered demands and criticism with bullets and batons. After 15 years of unyielding rule, Hasina's downfall was met with street celebrations, but also a fierce effort to shape history. Opposition forces, including the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), Jamaat-e-Islami (JI), the emerging National Citizens Party, and a mix of leftist and far-right alliances. labeled the AL 'fascist' and many portrayed the ousted party as an 'enemy of Islam,' while declaring the movement a 'revolution' and labeling the brutal crackdown and massacre as a 'genocide.' These powerful words shape how people understand events and how they pass them on to future generations, often in ways that can harm a fragile democracy. The word 'fascist' conjures images of Mussolini's Italy or Hitler's Germany: ultranationalist regimes obsessed with violence, myth, and total societal transformation. In his influential book 'The Nature of Fascism' (1991), scholar Roger Griffin defines fascism as a form of 'palingenetic ultranationalism,' meaning a rebirth of the nation through force. Hasina's AL showed some 'proto-fascist' features (elements that suggest a possible move to fascism), including a strong personality cult around Hasina and her father, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, rising Bengali nationalism used to suppress critics, and violent crackdowns. However, it lacked crucial elements like ethnic or racial supremacy and mass paramilitary movements. The AL remained officially secular and center-left, and its repression targeted all opposition rather than focusing on a specific ethnic enemy. Thus, although the party showed worrying authoritarian tendencies, it does not fit the strict definition of a fascist or far-right regime. Instead, its system aligns more with authoritarianism: limited political pluralism, centralized power by a small elite, and a focus on stability over transformative ideology. The AL cracked down on dissent through heinous laws like the Digital Security Act 2018, manipulated elections in 2014, 2018, and 2024, indulged in fraud and voter suppression, and controlled the media, contributing to Bangladesh's Freedom House score of 40/100 in 2024, signaling a clear slide into authoritarianism. Yet, it did not establish mass paramilitary terror squads or promote racial or religious supremacy on a genocidal scale. The AL relied heavily on the state security apparatus and its student wing, the Bangladesh Chhatra League, to silence opponents — a strategy more akin to Hosni Mubarak's Egypt than Hitler's Germany. Human Rights Watch has documented at least 600 enforced disappearances in Bangladesh since 2009, and widespread political violence left deep scars. However, these were mostly politically motivated purges aimed at consolidating power, not ideological mass exterminations driven by ultranationalist zeal. Calling the AL an 'enemy of Islam' goes even further. Nearly 90 percent of Bangladeshis are Muslim, and faith is deeply woven into the national identity. The AL's secular leanings and its 2013 ban on JI and controversial 1971 war criminal verdicts created resentment among Islamist groups. However, the party never destroyed mosques or banned religious practices. In fact, religious festivals, mosques, and madrasas thrived under government support. Islam has long been weaponized in Bangladesh politics to divide society and consolidate power. In the last 15 years, Islamist forces used this label to rally rural and conservative voters, framing the struggle as a religious movement rather than a fight for democratic accountability. This narrative risks fueling sectarian tensions that could outlast any political transition. Meanwhile, branding the 2024 protests a 'revolution' stirs images of France in 1789 or Iran in 1979, when entire social, political, and economic systems were toppled and rebuilt. In Bangladesh's case, the events began as an uprising, a sudden, explosive push by students against a specific injustice. As the government took brutal action and different groups joined, it grew into a movement – a broader push for accountability and reform. However, a true revolution demands deep structural changes: dismantling entrenched power networks, reforming institutions, and rebuilding the social contract. Bangladesh's judiciary, bureaucracy, and economic structures are largely still the same. Only the people have changed. The interim government, led by Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus, has promised electoral and constitutional reforms, but as of mid-2025, these remain largely symbolic gestures rather than real systemic change. A fixed national election date is yet to be announced. Consequently, political polarization has been increasing day by day. Now, ironically, AL supporters have started calling the Yunus-led interim government 'fascist.' The word has become almost a political weapon, thrown at rivals regardless of their actual practices or ideology. This dilution makes it harder to identify and challenge true authoritarian threats, and trivializes serious historical experiences of fascism. Even after the fall of the AL, the same cycles of revenge politics persist. Cases against AL leaders now echo the tactics once used by Hasina's government against BNP and JI figures. Violence and crime remain widespread: 441 rape cases were reported in just the first half of 2025, already surpassing the total number for all of 2024. Extortion rackets previously controlled by AL loyalists have simply shifted hands, often ending up being run by BNP-aligned or other political party networks. During the protests, women played a major role on the front lines, raising hopes that they would enjoy greater freedom and equality in the new political climate. However, the situation has worsened instead. Islamist groups have begun rallying against women's rights, calling for restrictions on gender equality and threatening those who speak out. This has created a discouraging effect on dissent and limited the space for genuine democratic progress. So how can this truly be called a revolution? Where are the real changes promised by the slogans that youth boldly painted as graffiti on city walls? Similarly, many have labelled the 2024 crackdown a 'genocide.' While it was undeniably a massacre and a grave human rights crime, it does not meet the legal definition of genocide under international law. Genocide, according to the 1948 U.N. Genocide Convention, requires acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group. In Bangladesh's case, the protesters were targeted because of their political actions, not because of their identity. International organizations such as Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International, and the U.N. Human Rights Office condemned the 2024 violence as grave human rights violations and mass killings, but did not label it genocide. History shows that words shape collective memory. Bangladesh's own Liberation War against Pakistan in 1971 is a powerful example. The official figure of 3 million martyrs has long been contested, with some estimates ranging between 300,000 and 500,000. Far-right groups have exploited these debates to question the legitimacy of the independence struggle itself. If today's movement is described using overheated terms like 'fascist' or 'revolution,' or 'enemy of the Islam' it risks similar distortion, potentially undermining its democratic core and leaving it vulnerable to future revisionism. Hasina's era undeniably left deep wounds, destroying Bangladesh's democracy: at least 1,400 protesters were killed during the July-August 2024 crackdowns, systemic corruption, enforced disappearances, and repeated electoral manipulations. Yet it also delivered economic gains. In 2018, the overall poverty rate in the country decreased to 21.8 percent, while the rate of extreme poverty fell to 11.3 percent. Infrastructure expanded rapidly, connecting rural communities and improving basic services although the country's debt raised. Recognizing this duality is crucial. Erasing the achievements risks alienating millions who benefited economically, while ignoring abuses undermines calls for justice and accountability. The challenge now is to document the truth clearly and honestly, to tell the history based on verified data, human rights reports, and real economic records rather than slogans and hype. The country has a rare opportunity to transform the energy of the 2024 uprising into meaningful democratic reform. But slogans alone cannot build institutions. Opposition parties must focus on strengthening the judiciary, ensuring free elections, and protecting fundamental rights, rather than simply hunting political rivals or rewriting history with catchy labels. Women who led marches hoped for genuine equality and freedom, but these dreams risk being buried under new waves of revenge and exploitation. The fall of Hasina's AL should be a spark for rebuilding, not just retribution. Bangladesh has run for decades between resilience and fragility, and the words used today will contribute to shaping whether it can finally step toward a more inclusive, democratic future. Without careful attention to truth, the uprising's democratic heart could be lost, leaving behind another cycle of bitterness and broken promises.
Scroll.in
06-06-2025
- Politics
- Scroll.in
Bangladesh's democratic fabric frays further
On May 16, small bands of Awami League supporters took out flash rallies across at least 30 locations in Dhaka and a few other towns of Bangladesh. These demonstrations were largely defiant in nature – to express their resentment against the May 10 'conditional' ban against the party which was ousted from power in August 2024. The Muhammad Yunus-led interim regime's decision to proscribe the Awami League stemmed from demands by a section of students who led the July-August 2024 movement against the then Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina. The ban, invoked under Bangladesh's 2009 Anti-Terrorism Act, was imposed nine months after the Yunus government assumed charge on August 8, 2024. It is being seen as a step that adversely impacts Bangladesh's already fragile democratic fabric which has time and again been subjected to assaults largely – and ironically – by political forces, including the now-proscribed party. Sheikh Hasina's ouster in August 2024 was widely expected to usher in a new era of democracy with better governance, fair elections, protection of human rights, and press freedom. That has not happened. Unkept promise The democratic values the interim administration promised to restore now appear compromised under the weight of its own authoritarian impulses. On its part, the Bangladesh Nationalist Party, which had earlier indicated it was not opposed to the Awami League contesting elections, whenever they are held, did a volte face, supporting the ban. The ban on the Awami League raises serious concerns about unconstitutional practices and democratic backsliding. The proscription, to be in place till Awami League leaders are tried in the International Crimes Tribunal, allows the interim government to outlaw organisations deemed threats to national security. While the democratic space has severely shrunk in Bangladesh – there is no clarity on when elections will be held there – the media has not been immune to violent attacks and targeted vilification. Laws such as the 2023 Cyber Security Act (formerly Digital Security Act 2018) continue to be used to suppress dissent, curtail free speech, harass journalists, activists and political opponents. Media offices have been raided by law enforcement agencies, voices of independent bloggers, social media influencers and pro-democracy activists have been muzzled for criticising the interim regime's alliance with Islamist groups. Another alarming aspect of the current regime's conduct is the pattern of deaths in custody and allegations of torture. In its most recent report, Human Rights Watch expressed concern on the imposition of a ban, describing it as an 'excessive restriction on fundamental freedoms'. Political opposition Bangladeshi political parties such as the BNP and the Jamaat questioned the interim government's position as the rightful authority to implement the corridor, with geopolitical implications, without taking prior consent of the people or consulting the Myanmar government. Even Army chief General Waker-uz-Zaman stood firmly against the proposed 'humanitarian corridor', Amid a general sense of disenchantment with the Yunus government, the Awami League's marginalisation is reflected in the inability of its leaders and supporters, who fled Bangladesh in the wake of last year's violence to India, to regroup. Hasina has been using social media to interact regularly with party supporters at home, but there has been no visible attempt at recalibrating the party or even shaking up the organisational structure with a view to reform. Some commentators claim that the Awami League's inability to get a grip on itself and chart a fresh direction is an outcome of the Yunus regime's ' authoritarian excesses '. The ban on the Awami League has been compounded by an Election Commission decision to suspend the party's registration, which effectively prevents it from contesting elections, whenever they are held. The domestic political situation is ' fraught ', and almost explosive. Any delay in holding polls will unleash political forces – such as the Islamist outfits – in a country that has not witnessed a truly free and fair elections for nearly two decades. The Army, considered a powerful stakeholder in Bangladesh's politics, is in no mood to see a prolonged period of uncertainty. In September last year, Army chief General Waker-uz-Zaman had proposed an 18-month timeline for holding elections, but the Yunus-led interim regime has hemmed and hawed. Some government functionaries have advocated holding institutional reforms before holding elections. But now the 'humanitarian corridor' controversy has given the Army a strong reason to not only ensure Bangladesh's sovereignty does not get eroded but also hasten the process to hold early elections so it can ' return to the barracks '. Bangladesh's political firmament reflects a grim paradox – the students' community unseated Sheikh Hasina for being an authoritarian ruler; by the same token, Yunus' interim regime is being seen as increasingly dictatorial even as it continues to be supported by the students. There are allegations that the Yunus-led government is intolerant of dissent and is prepared to use disproportionately strong measures. Far from a transitional administration that was expected to guide the country toward free and fair elections, the interim authority appears to be centralising power. Unless this trend is checked, Bangladesh risks sinking deeper into autocracy.
