Co-Author SM Faiyaz Hossain

Under the current interim regime, extrajudicial violence has not merely been tolerated; it has been routinized.

Once lionized as the “banker to the poor,” Mohammad Yunus the microcredit mythologist now presides—directly or symbolically—over a Bangladesh in slow-motion disintegration. Over the past fourteen months, the mounting crises—economic, legal, social and political—no longer speak of mere instability; they shout systemic collapse and kleptocracy. Yunus’s promise of reform now rings hollow amid daily horrors.

The promise reflects his longstanding fictitious tales of donor friendly rhetoric and fundraising manuals pertaining to three zeros; and sending poverty to museums. 

Economic Stagnation and Social Collapse

Bangladesh’s long-praised growth trajectory has lost traction. In FY 2024–25, growth fell to 4.1 %, the weakest since the COVID era, per World Bank assessment. If the investment drought deepens, projections suggest a drop toward 3.3 % in 2025.

Over 100 garment factories have shuttered over the past year, costing tens of thousands of jobs (Daily Industry BD). Official unemployment hovers at 4.6 %, but a deeper reckoning of underemployment, youth joblessness, and hidden labor markets suggests far higher human cost (Daily Observer). Nearly 85 % of workers remain informal—no contracts, no social protection (Dhaka Tribune).

In industrial belts like Gazipur, police acknowledge many arrested for petty theft or street mugging are recently laid-off factory workers (New Age). When the state fails to provide, survival becomes the only logic, and crime swells to fill the void.

Theories of Yunus delivered to convince his Western philanthropists have failed to make financial relevance with Global investors. Yunus doesn’t just lack political acumen, he was too naïve to begin his step in the game. 

Lawlessness, State Terror, and Mob Carnage

Justice no longer exists as a concept, only as a performative façade masking systemic brutality and institutional collapse. Under the current interim regime, extrajudicial violence has not merely been tolerated; it has been routinized. In the first quarter of 2025 alone, at least 8 extrajudicial killings and 19 deaths in custody were documented.

Between August 2024 and March 2025, human rights monitors recorded 20 such killings, involving torture, beatings, and summary executions. Mob lynchings have surged with terrifying ferocity: between mid-2024 and mid-2025, at least 637 people were lynched—representing a twelvefold increase from the 51 deaths recorded in 2023.

This wave of vigilante violence has been met with state indifference—if not tacit encouragement. Simultaneously, religious minorities have been subjected to a coordinated campaign of persecution: between August 2024 and June 2025, 2,442 hate crimes—including arson, sexual assaults, desecration of temples and churches, and targeted killings—were recorded, underscoring a culture of impunity that has metastasized into open terror.

These are not isolated incidents but symptoms of a regime where law is weaponized, justice is ornamental, and human life is expendable.

Since Muhammad Yunus assumed office, there has been a disturbing rise in alleged political persecution through the legal system: arrests, false lawsuits, and invented murder charges serving as tools of harassment rather than justice. Beyond the courts, thousands have been detained under Operation Devil Hunt, with over 11,300 arrests reported by late February 2025, many allegedly including people with only tenuous or no links to criminal acts. 

Yunus never had, never tried for public mandate. Employed by the protesters of July uprising is far from being a democratic mandate. Yunus never had the courage to face a public referendum to justify his throne. He preferred to enjoy the authority, ban political parties without referendum and promote divisive rhetoric among the masses. 

Women, Children, and the Machinery of Cruelty

The sexual violence statistics are a national disgrace. In the first half of 2025, 481 rape cases were reported—nearing the total for all of 2024 (The Daily Star). Child rape cases, in just one seven-month span, rose by 75 % (The Daily Star).

Protests led by women or students are met with torture, rape threats, solitary confinement (Human Rights Watch). Ibtedayi teachers demanding job recognition were beaten, tear-gassed, and dispersed in January 2025 (JMBF).

Prisons continue to serve as killing grounds. Deaths in custody are frequent; euphemisms like “heart attacks” or “natural causes” mask systematic violence.

Corpses in Rivers: the Floating Dead

A macabre trend haunts Bangladesh’s waterways. River police data show that in 2025, an average of 43 bodies each month have been pulled from rivers, up from 36 per month in 2024. From January to July 2025 alone, 301 bodies were recovered; 92 remain unidentified. Narayanganj recorded 34 recoveries, Dhaka 32 (Daily Star).

In one case, a woman and a child were found floating in the Buriganga River, both strangled before being dumped, according to autopsy (Financial Post BD). In late August, a headless body was recovered from the Shitalakkhya River in Narayanganj; the victim was later identified as a 27-year-old man (Financial Post BD).

In Keraniganj, the bodies of a man and woman were discovered tied with a 50-kg rice sack, and another victim in a burqa drifted nearby (Financial Post BD).

In Netrokona District (March 2025), the bodies of three fish poachers were found in the Dhanu River after clashes involving community groups (bdnews24). In Chandpur, two older men were retrieved from the Dakatia River—one with visible stab wounds and a severed leg vein (Dhaka Tribune)¹⁷.

In Khulna, over 50 bodies were pulled from various rivers between August 2024 and September 2025; 20 remain unidentified (Khulna naval police). In Chandpur’s Meghna River, seven bodies from an Al Bakhira cargo vessel murder were handed over to families—and a probe committee was formed (BD Pratidin).

Notably, the body of journalist Bibhuranjan Sarkar—after threats and intimidation—was recovered from the Meghna River in Munshiganj in August 2025 (IFJ / BMSF).

These are not accidents or drownings; they are executions turned invisible, pollution turned weapon, rivers made into graveyards without funeral. 

Passport, Visas, and Global Shame

Bangladesh’s passport value has eroded, visa rejections are multiplying, and global watchdogs—HRW, Odhikar, UN human rights bodies—have flagged Dhaka for systemic violations.

The moral capital of the country is bankrupt. Investors and donors hesitate to engage with a government intertwined with terror, silence, and complicity.

Disasters as Symptoms, Not Anomalies

The October 13, 2025 garment-chemical factory fire in Dhaka, which killed 16 workers, was not a random accident — it was a preventable massacre. Locked rooftop escape doors and unchecked toxic gas turned the building into a sealed crematorium.

Days later, the Yunus government has failed to launch any credible investigation, identify the factory owners, or bring those responsible to justice.

No arrests have been made, no compensation schemes publicly disclosed, and no structural safety audits initiated. Instead, the administration has issued vague statements and deflected responsibility, shielding business interests at the expense of workers’ lives. This silence is not mere negligence — it is complicity. 

This is not a standalone incident, rather a pattern. The handling of the Gazi Tire Factory fire tragedy reflects a troubling pattern of negligence and institutional disregard for accountability.

Despite the devastating loss of life and clear safety failures, Yunus—under whose interim government the incident unfolded—failed to ensure a thorough, transparent investigation or meaningful compensation for victims’ families.

This inaction not only denied justice to the workers but also signaled an alarming indifference to labor rights and workplace safety. In the past 13 months, similar negligence has been observed in incidents such as the Hazaribagh factory fire (2024) and the Chittagong shipbreaking yard accidents (2024-2025), where victims were met with inadequate investigations and stalled compensation efforts.

By neglecting to pursue corporate responsibility and systemic reform, Yunus reinforced the vulnerability of industrial workers in Bangladesh, deepening mistrust between the state and its most exploited laborers. His failure to act decisively in the aftermath stands as a stark contradiction to his international image as a champion of social justice.

Over the past 13 months of the Yunus regime, Bangladesh’s labour sector has been trapped in a cycle of grand promises, fragile protections, and cynical neglect. The government’s repeated declarations of “historic reforms” amounted to little more than political theatre, as factory floors across the country continued to mirror a grim reality of wage theft, unsafe workplaces, and repressed voices.

While MoLE boasted of upcoming amendments to labour laws, millions of workers — especially in the sprawling informal sector — remained invisible to the legal system. Inspection bodies were underfunded and toothless, allowing factory owners to operate with impunity as thousands were laid off illegally, denied benefits, and silenced when they protested.

Unionization was stifled, particularly in Export Processing Zones, where rights existed only on paper, and “social audits” became nothing more than PR rituals for global brands. Worker unrest exploded repeatedly, from delayed Eid allowances to unpaid salaries and unsafe conditions, yet the government responded with empty press briefings and tokenistic committees.

The much-touted October 2025 labour law reform deadline became a symbol of inertia, tangled in corporate resistance and bureaucratic gamesmanship. The past year has laid bare a bitter truth: under Yunus’s leadership, labour rights were not defended — they were traded off, delayed, and dismissed, leaving workers to fight alone against a system designed to exploit them.

From Savior Icon to Enabler of Decay

Mohammad Yunus once embodied a hopeful alternative—microcredit, grassroots empowerment, moral leadership. Yet under his interim leadership, Bangladesh is unravelling in every direction: economic collapse, mob justice, sexual violence, extrajudicial killings, rivers flooded with corpses, and institutional impotence. From Teachers to slums, the elites to poets all have suffered under the Yunus’ reign of Terror. 

Yunus may not have physically ordered every atrocity, but he now presides over a regime that normalized them. His Nobel halo cannot conceal the inferno beneath. Rebuilding a nation demands more than symbolic leadership—it demands justice, accountability, and courage. Today, Bangladesh has none. Yunus had the opportunity to unite the nation and develop a social contract among the political parties. Instead what Yunus has contributed had cemented a pipeline for cycle of violence to multiply in the future. 

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

Statistics cannot capture the sound of a cell door closing on a lawyer who once argued for others’ freedom.

It began, as so many stories of injustice do, with a courtroom and a promise of fairness that never came.

On 2 September 2025, twelve lawyers in Barguna district walked into the District Sessions Judge’s Court—heads high, robes pressed, faith intact. They had come not as fugitives, but as officers of the court, surrendering in good faith to defend themselves against false and fabricated charges of vandalism and arson at a local BNP office.

The judge denied their bail. They were taken away in handcuffs.

Eight days later, on 10 September, the High Court granted six weeks’ bail to ten of them. For their families waiting outside prison gates, it was a moment of relief—wives preparing meals, children waiting at the door. But as the release orders reached the jail, the cruel machinery of the Muhammad Yunus–led interim government moved again.

Moments before their release, the lawyers were re-arrested under a new case fabricated under the Special Powers Act by the Betagi Police Station and sent straight back to prison.

Among them were Mahabubul Bari Aslam, former President of the Barguna District Bar Association, and Advocates Mojibur Rahman, Saimum Islam Rabbi, Humayun Kabir Poltu, and Nurul Islam, respected figures in their communities. Their “freedom” lasted mere minutes—a cruel illusion that turned hope into heartbreak.

This episode exposes the grotesque logic of repression now governing Bangladesh: even when the highest court speaks, its voice is silenced by handcuffs. Bail means nothing; legality itself has become a crime.

In a democracy, imprisonment should be a last resort, used only when guilt is proven beyond doubt. But in today’s Bangladesh, under a regime led by a Nobel Peace laureate, imprisonment has become a first response—a weapon of control, not justice.

According to documentation by Justicemakers Bangladesh in France (JMBF) between August 2024 and September 2025, there were 75 incidents of imprisonment involving 203 lawyers. These are not isolated misfortunes. They are deliberate acts of political engineering, designed to dismantle independence within the legal profession, particularly among lawyers affiliated with the Bangladesh Awami League (BAL) or those who dared to defend victims of state abuse.

Each story reveals a pattern: fabricated charges, coerced surrenders, manipulated hearings, and endless pre-trial detentions. The justice system, once a shield of rights, now functions as an arm of persecution.

The Anatomy of Fabrication

Behind every fabricated case lies a story of fear.

According to JMBF’s findings, the largest share of imprisonments arose from false charges of attempted murder (15 incidents, 103 victims) and murder (25 incidents, 43 victims).

These were not random choices—they were deliberate. Murder charges carry the heaviest stigma, branding lawyers as violent criminals and ensuring long detentions before trial. The government didn’t just want to silence these lawyers—it wanted to erase their credibility, to paint defenders of justice as enemies of peace.

Other common allegations—sabotage (8 incidents) and vandalism (9 incidents)—served as flexible tools to justify mass arrests. And then there are the colonial-era relics—seditious conspiracy and extortion—revived like old weapons from a dictator’s arsenal.

These laws once served imperial masters; today, they serve an interim regime that governs through fear, turning patriotism into sedition and dissent into treason.

Arrest as a Weapon of Fear

Among the 75 imprisonment incidents, 57 involved arrests leading to imprisonment, affecting 73 victims. These were not ordinary law-enforcement actions—they were public performances of power.

Lawyers have been detained from homes, offices, and even from courtrooms. The message is unmistakable: no one is untouchable.

JMBF’s data show this pattern across the country—murder, attempted murder, sabotage, vandalism, and “seditious conspiracy” cases repeated with numbing precision. Arrests have become a psychological weapon, designed to terrify not just individuals but the entire legal fraternity.

Each detention silences one voice—and intimidates a hundred more. Bar associations hesitate to meet; young lawyers choose self-censorship over survival. The courtroom, once a place of courage, now feels like a cage.

The Trap of “Voluntary” Surrender

Perhaps the most insidious tactic employed by the interim government is the manipulation of voluntary surrender.

JMBF documented 18 such incidents, involving 130 lawyers—many accused of “attempted murder” or “vandalism.” These were lawyers who followed the law, who appeared before judges when summoned. Yet, instead of receiving fair hearings, they were immediately remanded or imprisoned.

The ordeal of Advocate Abu Sayeed Sagar, former president of the Dhaka Bar Association and ex-Legal Affairs Secretary of the Awami League, epitomizes this tactic.

During the politically tense 2023 Supreme Court Bar Association election, a brief scuffle became the pretext for criminal charges. Sagar obtained six weeks of anticipatory bail from the High Court. Then, on 5 October 2025, he voluntarily surrendered before the Dhaka Metropolitan Sessions Judge’s Court to renew his bail—a lawful and responsible act.
Instead of being heard, he was denied bail and sent to jail by Judge Sabbir Fayez.

This case shows how the Yunus-led regime has weaponized compliance itself. What should have been a routine legal procedure became a punishment for obedience.
Under Yunus, surrender no longer signifies respect for law—it is a trapdoor to imprisonment.

A Regime Built on the Ruins of Rights

The persecution of lawyers is not an accident—it is a blueprint of authoritarian control.

Since mid-2024, under the pretext of “transition,” the Yunus-led interim government has suspended civil liberties, silenced journalists, and targeted professionals suspected of political disloyalty.

The irony is unbearable: a man once celebrated for empowering the poor now presides over the imprisonment of those defending the powerless.

The Collapse of Judicial Independence

Every dictatorship begins by capturing the courts. The Yunus government has done one worse—it has hollowed them out from within.

Judges are pressured, prosecutors politicized, and bail hearings endlessly delayed. Lawyers are denied access to case files, while police fabricate evidence with impunity.

This is not merely domestic injustice—it violates Bangladesh’s obligations under Article 9 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), which prohibits arbitrary detention.

When judges become instruments of fear instead of arbiters of law, the entire edifice of justice collapses.

Imprisonment as Preventive Repression

In this new Bangladesh, imprisonment no longer follows crime—it anticipates it.

Lawyers are detained not for what they did, but for what they might do. This is preventive repression—criminalizing potential dissent.

By incarcerating lawyers, the regime has effectively imprisoned the idea of justice itself. When defenders become defendants, a nation’s moral compass is lost.

The Human Cost

Statistics cannot capture the sound of a cell door closing on a lawyer who once argued for others’ freedom.

Many imprisoned lawyers languish in overcrowded cells, denied medical care, cut off from their families. Some have been beaten. Others have fled abroad, leaving behind shattered practices and broken lives.

In every courthouse corridor, fear now walks silently. The rule of law has been replaced by the rule of intimidation.

The International Dimension of Betrayal

When Muhammad Yunus took charge, many abroad saw him as a reformer—a moral voice who would guide Bangladesh toward democracy.

But moral authority demands moral action. The mass imprisonment of lawyers is a betrayal not just of Bangladesh’s Constitution, but of international law and the ideals Yunus once symbolized.

Bangladesh is bound by the UN Basic Principles on the Role of Lawyers (1990), which guarantee that lawyers must perform their duties “without intimidation, hindrance, harassment, or improper interference.”

Under Yunus, every one of those principles has been broken.

The Erosion of Democracy in the Name of Transition

The government calls itself “interim.” But its methods are permanent tools of authoritarianism.

It claims to save democracy by suspending it; to ensure order by silencing dissent. History knows this lie well—from Chile to Egypt, every junta has claimed necessity as its moral cover.

Bangladesh today stands on that same precipice.

A Call for International Solidarity and Accountability

The time for polite diplomacy is over. The international community must see beyond the Nobel halo and confront the stark reality unfolding in Bangladesh, where lawyers are imprisoned for defending justice. Independent investigations by the UN and other human-rights bodies are urgently needed to document the systematic persecution of legal professionals. International legal associations should actively monitor trials and proceedings, recording every violation of due process, while governments must consider targeted sanctions, including visa restrictions and asset freezes, against officials responsible for repression.

Equally critical is the protection of at-risk lawyers, with states providing emergency visas and asylum to those facing imminent arrest. Silence or neutrality from global institutions, including Nobel committees and academic bodies, is no longer acceptable; it amounts to tacit complicity in the erosion of democracy and the rule of law. The world must act decisively to uphold both human rights and the integrity of the legal profession in Bangladesh.

When the Defenders Become the Accused

The mass imprisonment of lawyers in Bangladesh marks a moral collapse of governance.

By turning the courts into instruments of punishment, the Yunus-led interim government has criminalized justice itself.

Imprisonment has ceased to be a verdict; it has become policy.

Muhammad Yunus once preached empowerment. Today, his government practices suppression.

The world must judge him not by medals, but by the misery of those imprisoned for defending freedom. Because when the defenders of justice are silenced, it is not only lawyers who are imprisoned—it is the conscience of Bangladesh itself.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

If the international community allows these narratives to disappear in silence, it becomes complicit in its own oppression, it claims to abhor.

Four hours. Seriously? That’s what justice boils down to now in Bangladesh? Just four measly hours of parole for Farzana Rupa and Shakil Ahmed. Dragged through handcuff by malicious charges and failed to say goodbye to a dying mom they hadn’t met in almost a year.

Did they have adequate time for travel, attending the funeral, and returning to jail? Did anyone even stop to think what a single hour with her mom meant to Rupa?

Her mother spent her last days begging for her daughter’s release, but sure, let’s pretend that’s not the headline in Bangladesh. 

Did anyone in power spare a thought for the wreckage left behind? Punishing a Professional journalist on murder charges she had no stake on. Not just playing with her career, her family, her honour and the life of her recently deceased mother. Who will take responsibility for the death of her mother? 

A heartbreaking conversation with Rupa’s friend

Ms. Charlotte Jacquemart, a respected Swiss journalist, criticized the ongoing detention of Bangladeshi journalists Farzana Rupa and Shakil Ahmed. Her statements are direct and deeply personal, underscoring what she describes as a tragic situation impacting not only the journalists but also their families and professional circles.

Both Rupa and Ahmed have been incarcerated for ten months. During this period, they have not been granted access to proper legal representation. Jacquemart, who has a close professional and personal relationship with Farzana Rupa, noted that multiple requests for bail have been denied, even as Rupa’s mother’s health deteriorated. The lack of release prevented Rupa from providing care or support during this critical time her mother needed. 

The consequences of their detention extend beyond the prison walls. Their families, particularly minor children, are left without financial or emotional support. Jacquemart highlighted that the absence of adequate medical treatment for Rupa’s mother—stemming from the journalists’ inability to intervene—ultimately resulted in a tragic loss, as confirmed by medical professionals.

On one occasion, authorities allowed the journalists four hours of parole to visit Rupa’s dying mother. However, logistical process meant three hours were spent in travel by prison van, leaving just one hour to see her mother’s dead body.

Jacquemart asserts that the case violates both international human rights standards and Bangladeshi constitutional guarantees, specifically regarding press freedom. She also criticized the Bangladeshi Interim leadership of Noble Laureate Yunus, alleging a targeted campaign against critics—including journalists, lawyers, activists, and minorities—while convicted criminals and terrorists are released.

In her concluding remarks, Jacquemart called on Western governments to reconsider their support for the current Bangladeshi administration, suggesting that the leadership prioritizes personal power and targeted retribution over the welfare of the Bangladeshi people or adherence to democratic principles.

Why was Rupa arrested?

Farzana Rupa’s professional trajectory was anything but ordinary—she made a name for herself by tackling high-stakes, controversial topics head-on. As principal correspondent and anchor at Ekattor TV, she played a pivotal role in shaping coverage of major political controversies and social issues in Bangladesh. Her leadership extended to hosting critical debates and shedding light on human rights abuses, which inevitably attracted both public attention and, regrettably, threats from more radical groups.

Her investigative work on cases like the Pohela Boishakh sexual assaults and interviews with polarizing figures such as Taslima Nasreen garnered international recognition. This visibility, while elevating her professional profile, also exposed her to significant personal risk. Rupa was known for open support for Prime Minister in exile Sheikh Hasina during the turbulent July protests of 2024, coupled with her readiness to challenge those in power, placed her squarely in the spotlight following the change in government.

Subsequently, both she and her husband faced arrest, charged with incitement to murder, and were held without bail. Many Political observers interpret these developments as part of a broader, politically driven effort to suppress independent journalism in Bangladesh.

Rupa’s tears to the UN

Farzana Rupa made urgent appeals to the United Nations while she was detained, but, frankly, there was no timely intervention. Her family paid the price. Her mother had passed away. Will the UN acknowledge any responsibility for a loss that perhaps could have been avoided? Given that Rupa couldn’t be present, advocate for medical care, or even offer basic comfort, one must wonder about the effectiveness of these international mechanisms.

The situation raises a larger issue: will this tragedy prompt any real reflection or policy change, or will it simply fade from attention, with Rupa’s unanswered appeals lost in the noise? The lack of response speaks volumes about the current state of international accountability.

A cruel crossroad in Bangladesh

The narratives around Rupa and Ahmed highlight a deep crisis in Bangladesh – a powerful mix of political alienation and human rights degradation. Individuals become collateral damage to state strategies to nullify dissent; Their bodies and psyche serve as dark reminders of the severe cost of Journalism in an increasingly authoritarian means. Government tactics, remnants of authoritarian regimes around the world, show a worrying model of governance based on the oppression. 

Farzana Rupa and Shakil Ahmed are like symbols. They are faces that marked a scenario of overwhelming darkness. They force us to examine not only their unfortunate circumstances, but to confront the systemic injustices that permeate Bangladesh’s political scenario. Their stories are a call of duty to global citizens, reminding them that true democracy cannot exist when dissent is criminalized.

If the international community allows these narratives to disappear in silence, it becomes complicit in its own oppression, it claims to abhor. A collective awakening for twin tragedies, though deeply personal, illuminates a much greater evil: the erosion of human dignity by another Noble laureate. 

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

Ultimately, it raises questions of profound importance: Is it possible to transform a nation without resorting to bloodshed? 

The movement to ban the Awami League was hardly an isolated event; rather, it traced its origins to the student unrest that erupted in July 2024. Initial grievances focused on education policy, persistent corruption, and the burdens of economic hardship, but the agitation rapidly escalated into violence. 

The coalition of dissent widened as Islamist organizations and right-wing groups joined the mobilization, their rhetoric coalescing with that of newly formed student parties, National Citizen’s Party. The public discourse became saturated with serious allegations: both the Awami League and its student affiliate, the Chhatra League, faced blame for violent reprisals and the deaths of hundreds during the previous year’s protests. Over time, the demonstrators’ demands intensified. Calls emerged for the party to be designated a terrorist organization and for its leadership to be prosecuted before the International Crimes Tribunal.

This pressure culminated in a significant government response. Chief Advisor Muhammad Yunus declared the party banned under the Anti-Terrorism Act, pledging that the prohibition would remain until all charges had been legally examined. While many protesters celebrated this outcome, the broader atmosphere in Dhaka remained charged with anxiety and uncertainty. The Awami League, a party whose history is deeply intertwined with the founding of Bangladesh in 1971, now found itself the subject of condemnation and legal scrutiny by the very populace it once liberated from Pakistan. 

A Unique Protest to ban

The demonstration against the Awami League rapidly escalated into a deeply unsettling display of extremist fervour. Islamist groups, including those reported to have connections with organizations such as Al Qaida, became highly visible among the protesters. Notably, Mufti Jashimuddin Rahmani—a cleric widely recognized for his radical ideology—publicly brandished the flag of Islam, a symbol that, after years of association with violent acts, now carries significant and troubling connotations.

Representatives from Hizb ut-Tahrir, Hefazat-e-Islam, and associates of Rahmani with criminal convictions gathered, their collective presence casting an unmistakable pall over the city’s atmosphere. The demonstration fragmented with Jamaat E Islami and Islami Chatra Shibir; both groups chanted slogans like, “No Awami League in the land of Nizami, no Awami League in the land of Golam Azam,” referencing individuals convicted of war crimes in 1971 as if they were figures worthy of admiration and they owned Bengal. Another segment of the crowd escalated the rhetoric further, openly issuing death threats: “Catch and slaughter Awami League one by one.”

The environment became saturated with hostility—a manifestation not of peaceful political dissent, but of incitement to violence. At this point, the gathering ceased to resemble a lawful protest; rather, it devolved into a perilous spectacle in which the boundaries between legitimate calls for justice and extremist violence were dangerously obscured, seemingly fuelled by both state endorsement and radical zeal.

The Controversial Ban

The international community observed the unfolding events with marked concern. Human rights organizations, like Human Rights Watch characterized the ban on the Awami League as arbitrary, raising questions regarding the government’s intentions—was this a pursuit of justice, or an attempt to suppress dissent? The United Nations previously expressed alarm over banning what it described as diminishing civil liberties, while India openly voiced apprehension on democratic future as a response to the ban. 

The government justified its actions under the pretext of national security. Yet, this raised a crucial issue: who defines the parameters of security when the opposition is excluded from participation? Many questioned the legitimacy of a democracy that outlaws its oldest political party. The ban’s reach extended beyond politicians—it affected students, women, and entire communities. Such measures prompted debate over whether this constituted justice or amounted to collective punishment.

Tensions escalated throughout Dhaka; the disappearance of protestors and the retreat of supporters into clandestinity reflected the climate of fear and uncertainty. While some framed the crackdown as a necessary purge, most observers interpreted it as symptomatic of broader societal anxiety.

International actors, including foreign governments and NGOs, called for transparency, adherence to legal norms, and meaningful reforms. The interim government promised stability, yet the cost of such “order” remained ambiguous and contested.

This situation provokes reflection: Is this the outcome for which Bangladesh’s founders struggled in 1971, or does it represent a cyclical return to past traumas under new guises? When national symbols are suppressed and political expression is stifled, what remains of democratic governance?

Critics drew a distinction between punishing an organization and addressing criminal behaviour, underscoring the dangers of conflating the two. The world now watches closely, questioning who ultimately benefits from the absence of opposition, and who might be targeted next.

What’s next for Awami League?

The recent ban is undeniably severe, and the authorities’ response has been rigorous, even unyielding. Yet, as reported by Voice of America, public sentiment does not overwhelmingly align with the ban. Notably, in district bar elections, lawyers affiliated with the Awami League performed unexpectedly well. However, in many districts the interim Government forced them not to participate. Online surveys continue to indicate that the party retains substantial support, frequently leading in popularity. So, is this a conclusion, or merely another episode in a protracted political journey?

Historically, the party has confronted similar obstacles. After 1975, the Awami League operated clandestinely but ultimately re-emerged, playing a pivotal role in the 1990 movement for democracy. At present, many of its leaders are in hiding; their residences have been ransacked and their financial assets frozen. Some face threats of violence, torture, and live under persistent fear. Nevertheless, history offers important lessons. The Awami League was conceived in resistance, matured in secrecy, and spearheaded the independence war of 1971. The critical question is whether such resilience can be summoned once again.

Arguably, this period represents one of the most formidable challenges the party has faced. Growing anti-incumbency sentiment and the ban itself are compelling the organization to reassess its strategy and reconnect with foundational principles. This moment calls for a renewed study of Mujib’s legacy, the pre-independence struggle, and the dynamics of political survival. Operating covertly, the party must reorganize, adapt, and remain patient heading for a Non-violent cultural revolution. 

A non-violent cultural revolution, at its core, does not emerge through slogans or public altercations. Instead, it finds its genesis in artistic expression—music, poetry, and the collective act of remembering. Such change germinates in intimate gatherings, within the retelling of stories about figures like Mujib and the struggles of founding leaders, and in the songs that once served as a unifying force for the nation.

Both the young and the elderly revisit historical narratives, not for the sake of lamentation, but to derive lessons about resistance that is devoid of animosity. Art, within this context, evolves into a vehicle for protest, while protest, conversely, assumes the qualities of art. This form of revolution proliferates in educational spaces, in casual conversations at tea stalls, and within the quiet but resolute refusal to embrace violence. Ultimately, it raises questions of profound importance: Is it possible to transform a nation without resorting to bloodshed? 

The Awami League has demonstrated a remarkable capacity for cultural and political resurgence in the past. Whether it can transform present adversity into renewed opportunity is a new challenge. Ultimately, as has so often been the case in Bangladesh, the outcome will be difficult, but the grand return is far from over. 

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

Perhaps the most dangerous tactic employed by the Yunus government is the use of fabricated charges against lawyers in an attempt to discredit and neutralize them.

In an unprecedented and deeply alarming move, the interim government of Bangladesh, led by former Nobel Peace Laureate Professor Muhammad Yunus, has launched a systemic campaign aimed directly at the country’s legal community.

According to documentation from JusticeMakers Bangladesh in France (JMBF), since assuming power in August 2024, the Yunus administration has orchestrated an alarming series of politically motivated arrests, fabricated charges, killings, forcible possession of the Bangladesh Bar Council and other district bar associations, and physical attacks targeting lawyers.

Over 391 legal professionals are now facing false accusations such as murder and explosive explosions. More than 131 have already been arrested, some detained without charges solely for their professional activities and political beliefs, while many more have been subjected to abuse, threats, and harassment. What we are witnessing is not a series of isolated incidents, but a deliberate, orchestrated attack on the rule of law and the very independence of Bangladesh’s judiciary.

This unprecedented crackdown on lawyers, many of whom are simply fulfilling their professional duties, reflects the government’s growing authoritarian tendencies and its determination to quash any form of political opposition. In doing so, it poses an existential threat to the fundamental principles of justice, constitutional rights, and democratic governance in Bangladesh.

Arrests and Arbitrary Detentions: The Systematic Repression of Lawyers

The Yunus government has weaponized the arrest and detention of lawyers as a tool of political repression. The arbitrary arrests, often conducted under the cover of night, are carried out without regard for due process and with complete disregard for human rights and the legal protections that should be afforded to all citizens. These actions are meant to send a clear message to the legal community: dissent will not be tolerated.

On April 7, 2025, Barrister Turin Afroz, a former ICT prosecutor, was arrested from her home, only months after surviving a brutal physical assault by unknown assailants. The attack on her was never investigated, and now she is facing arrest in what appears to be retaliation for her legal work. Other prominent figures, such as Advocate Khan Md. Alauddin and Advocate Rezaul Karim Khokon, have similarly been targeted in politically motivated arrests aimed at silencing those who dare to speak out or represent clients from opposition groups.

The arbitrary nature of these arrests was further highlighted on April 6, 2025, when 84 pro-Awami League lawyers were thrown into jail after a Dhaka Metropolitan Sessions Judge overruled anticipatory bail granted by the High Court. This flagrant violation of established legal procedures not only undermines the judiciary’s independence but also exposes the government’s determination to bend the legal system to its will, regardless of constitutional guarantees.

Many of these lawyers are held without charges, often denied access to legal counsel and forced to endure harsh conditions in jail. They are also treated inhumanely, with their hands cuffed behind their backs. This behavior is in direct violation of Bangladesh’s constitutional protections and international human rights standards. The clear intent behind these arrests is not to administer justice but to intimidate and silence a professional community that has historically been one of the strongest defenders of democratic rights.

Fabrication of Charges: A Political Witch Hunt

Perhaps the most dangerous tactic employed by the Yunus government is the use of fabricated charges against lawyers in an attempt to discredit and neutralize them. By leveling baseless accusations such as murder, explosives, or assault, the government not only attacks individual lawyers but attempts to delegitimize the entire legal profession as a whole.

On February 12, 2025, 32 lawyers were falsely accused of attacking student protesters in Comilla—a charge entirely fabricated to undermine opposition voices. Similarly, in February 2025, 144 pro-Awami League lawyers were falsely implicated in an assault and attempted murder case linked to protests from the July movement. These false charges are not isolated incidents but part of a pattern of politically motivated persecution designed to punish those who dare to challenge the status quo.

In November 2024, 70 lawyers from Chattogram were falsely charged under the Explosives Act, a draconian law that permits severe penalties. Eleven other lawyers were implicated in the death of a street vendor, despite a complete lack of evidence to link them to the crime. These fabricated charges not only violate the fundamental rights of lawyers but also serve as a calculated strategy to suppress opposition and silence political dissent.

The Yunus government has clearly weaponized the justice system for political purposes. It sends a chilling message to the legal community: challenge the government, defend political dissidents, or even represent those the government dislikes—and you will face fabricated charges that could ruin your career, imprison you, and destroy your reputation.

Physical Attacks and Intimidation: Cultivating Fear Among Lawyers

The Yunus government’s attack on the legal profession is not limited to arrests and fabricated charges. There has been a disturbing rise in physical violence aimed at intimidating lawyers into silence. Such acts of brutality serve to create a climate of fear and compel legal professionals to think twice before representing clients that may be seen as politically sensitive or opposition-affiliated.

In March 2025, three prominent lawyers from Jamalpur were brutally attacked while performing their professional duties. Similar violent incidents have occurred at various courts, with lawyers like Morshed Hossain Shaheen and Sheikh Farid subjected to mob violence in Dhaka. In August 2024, Barrister Ashraful Islam was stabbed in the Supreme Court Bar Association building—a brazen act of violence meant to send a clear message to all lawyers: if you challenge the government’s actions or defend political dissenters, you risk your safety.

These incidents of physical violence are not random acts; they are part of a deliberate strategy to suppress opposition and instill fear. Lawyers are increasingly reluctant to take on cases that challenge the government’s position or represent opposition figures. The result is a paralyzed legal community unable to perform its crucial role in upholding the rule of law.

Killings: The Ultimate Form of State Terror

The attack on Bangladesh’s legal community has escalated to the point where the lives of lawyers are at risk. In April 2025, Advocate Sujon Mia, a former student leader and a member of the Moulvibazar District Bar Association, was brutally stabbed to death by a group of youth miscreants. It is alleged that he was killed because he represented politically motivated accused individuals affiliated with the Bangladesh Awami League and its associated wings in court.

Earlier, on August 5, 2024, young lawyer Nayan Sheikh, affiliated with the Bangladesh Awami League, was fatally hacked to death at his home in Bagerhat, following the fall of the previous Awami League regime.

On November 26, 2024, lawyer Saiful Islam, an Assistant Public Prosecutor, was killed during a clash in Chattogram involving supporters of Hindu leader Chinmoy Krishna Das Brahmachari, police, and BGB forces. These killings represent the ultimate form of repression, aiming not only to eliminate outspoken legal professionals but also to instill a pervasive fear that further discourages any form of resistance.

Electoral Obstruction and Democratic Sabotage

The Yunus government has also taken steps to obstruct the democratic process, particularly within the legal community. These efforts have included direct interference in bar elections to ensure that only those loyal to the regime are allowed to hold key positions. As soon as the Yunus government took power, the Bangladesh Bar Council office was forcibly taken over by unelected pro-BNP-Jamaat lawyers, along with the Dhaka Bar Association and Khulna Bar Association offices.

On April 10, 2025, in Chattogram, pro-Awami lawyers were barred from collecting nomination papers for the Bar election, a blatant attempt to prevent any opposition from gaining power within the legal profession. This incident is part of a broader pattern of electoral obstruction across the country, as seen between January and March 2025, when lawyers affiliated with the ruling coalition were forcibly prevented from contesting bar elections in Rajbari, Naogaon, and Sirajganj. In Dinajpur, 13 candidates were disqualified on purely political grounds.

Such actions are a direct assault on democratic processes, as the ruling regime seeks to eliminate any independent voices within the legal community. By controlling the electoral process within the Bar, the Yunus government is ensuring that no opposition remains within the structures that could hold it accountable.

A Descent into Authoritarianism

The systematic targeting of Bangladesh’s legal community is not just an attack on individual lawyers—it is an attack on the very pillars of justice, democracy, and the rule of law. Under the Yunus administration, the government has steadily shifted towards authoritarianism, systematically dismantling the democratic structures that have historically held the state accountable.

The legal profession, with its long-standing ties to the opposition and its role in defending human rights and political freedoms, has become a primary target. The Yunus government understands that by silencing lawyers, it can eliminate the last remaining check on its growing authoritarian tendencies. This attack on the legal profession is part of a broader strategy to eliminate all sources of opposition and dissent. With the legal community neutralized, the Yunus government would be free to govern without scrutiny, accountability, or restraint.

The International Community Must Act

The international community must not stand by idly while the legal profession in Bangladesh is systematically dismantled. It is imperative that foreign governments, international legal bodies, and human rights organizations come together to hold the Yunus government accountable for its actions. Sanctions, travel bans, and other diplomatic measures should be considered to signal that the international community will not tolerate such blatant violations of human rights and the erosion of judicial independence.

Bangladesh’s legal community plays a critical role in defending the rights of citizens, ensuring justice, and holding the government accountable. If left unchecked, this attack on lawyers will not only destroy the independence of the judiciary but also undermine the foundations of democracy in Bangladesh. The world must take action to prevent this authoritarian descent from further dismantling the very fabric of the country’s democracy.

A Call for Resistance

The assault on Bangladesh’s lawyers is an assault on democracy itself. It is a calculated attempt by the Yunus government to consolidate power and eliminate any form of dissent. The targeting of lawyers—through arrests, fabricated charges, physical violence, and killings—is a deliberate strategy to weaken the legal profession and undermine the democratic principles upon which Bangladesh was built.

The people of Bangladesh, along with the international community, must stand in solidarity with the legal profession and demand an immediate end to this repressive campaign. The future of Bangladesh’s democracy hangs in the balance. If the legal profession is silenced, if the rule of law is further eroded, the very foundations of the nation’s democracy will crumble.

The time to act is now. The legal community, civil society, and the international community must rise together to defend justice, human rights, and democracy in Bangladesh before it is too late.

Advocate Shahanur Islam is a Bangladeshi Human Rights Lawyer and Laureate 2023 of the French Marianne Initiative for Human Rights Defenders. Currently, he is working as the Founder President of JusticeMakers Bangladesh in France (JMBF).

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Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

World leaders, including former U.S. President Donald Trump, perceive Erdoğan’s crumbling strongman image

Nearly two million Turks have gathered in Istanbul to protest President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s decision to arrest his main political rival, Ekrem İmamoğlu, on what critics call fabricated corruption and terrorism charges. The move has ignited widespread outrage across Turkey, with demonstrators denouncing Erdoğan’s authoritarian grip on power and calling for his immediate resignation.

The arrest of İmamoğlu, who served as Istanbul’s mayor and was seen as Erdoğan’s strongest challenger in upcoming elections, has fueled speculation that the Turkish president is attempting to eliminate political competition ahead of a crucial vote. Protesters have taken to the streets chanting, “Enough is enough!” and “Turkey will not be silenced!” as security forces struggle to contain the surging crowds.

Michael Rubin, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute and a Middle East expert, has been vocal about the situation. “Turks are not stupid; they see through Erdoğan’s cynicism and comment on its ironies,” Rubin stated. “Erdoğan accuses İmamoğlu of corruption, but Erdoğan not only has pending corruption cases dating to his own tenure as mayor, but he has since accumulated billions of dollars in unexplained wealth. He accuses İmamoğlu of supporting terror, but Turkish journalists photographed Erdoğan’s intelligence service transporting weaponry to an Al Qaeda affiliate in Turkey.”

The controversy deepened when Erdoğan’s government reportedly annulled İmamoğlu’s university degree, a requirement for presidential candidates. Rubin pointed out the hypocrisy in this move, noting, “Not only was Erdoğan’s own degree fraudulent, but the grounds for dismissing İmamoğlu’s degree were the illegitimacy of the university he attended in occupied northern Cyprus. As with its universities, so too is it with its entire regime.”

The international community is closely watching the unfolding crisis, with speculation growing about how world leaders, including former U.S. President Donald Trump, perceive Erdoğan’s crumbling strongman image. “Trump sees himself as a winner and despises losers,” Rubin said. “Whereas he may once have seen Erdoğan as a strongman, it is now clear that the would-be sultan wears no clothes. Trump and his team are correct: Turkey is important, but Turkey and Erdoğan are not synonymous. Simply put, Trump should dump Erdoğan.”

The massive protests, among the largest in Turkey’s modern history, highlight a growing sense of urgency among citizens determined to reclaim their democracy. The Turkish military and law enforcement agencies now face a crucial test of allegiance. “Turkey’s elite soldiers swear allegiance to the state and the people of Turkey, not one man who holds the constitution and rule of law with disdain,” Rubin emphasized.

With tensions reaching a boiling point, many analysts fear that Turkey is approaching a breaking point. Some protesters argue that peaceful demonstrations may not be enough to bring about real change in a system they see as rigged in Erdoğan’s favor.

Rubin did not mince words when outlining what may be necessary for political transformation: “The Turkish protestors now fight for the soul of their nation. Every protestor on the streets of Istanbul is as consequential for the future of modern Turkey as was Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. Protests might matter in democracies; however, Turkey is not a democracy. To succeed, they must march on Turkey’s palaces and prisons. If Erdoğan does not helicopter to the airport and flee the country, they should detain him, pending trial, even if passions are such that those who reach him first might simply hang him and release political prisoners, ranging from İmamoğlu to detained Kurdish politician Selahattin Demirtaş and philanthropist Osman Kavala.”

Rubin also hinted at the possibility of internal betrayal within Erdoğan’s own ranks. “Erdoğan, like Bashar al-Assad in Syria, may be tempted to hang on. While the United States will never say directly, the White House likely would not look askance at regional states that would offer reward to any Erdoğan bodyguard who turns their guns on the would-be despot to arrest him or, if he resists, to kill him.”

The coming days will be critical for Turkey’s political future. Will the protests succeed in toppling Erdoğan’s rule, or will the regime resort to even harsher crackdowns to suppress dissent? What is clear, however, is that Turkey is at an inflection point. As Rubin put it, “The age of Erdoğan must end. Turks can either take the next step, or they will have no one but themselves to blame for Turkey’s descent into dictatorship, state failure, and eventual civil war.”