Officials have also pointed to comparative international examples to argue that such engagement does not necessarily compromise electoral fairness.

On 12 February 2026, Bangladeshis are scheduled to make two significant choices on the same day: electing the country’s 13th National Parliament and voting in a referendum on proposed constitutional reforms. As polling day approaches, however, a legal challenge before the High Court has raised questions about whether the conditions necessary for a credible and trusted vote are still intact.

The writ petition does not allege wrongdoing by any political party. Instead, it focuses on the conduct of state institutions during an election period — a distinction that has drawn both legal and public attention. At its core is a concern familiar to many democracies: what happens to electoral legitimacy when the boundary between neutral administration and political advocacy becomes blurred?

According to the petition, senior figures associated with the interim administration, along with other state-linked actors, have publicly expressed support for a “Yes” vote in the referendum. The petitioner argues that such actions may be inconsistent with provisions of the Election Code of Conduct and the Representation of the People Order, which are intended to ensure that those exercising executive authority do not influence voter choice during an election period.

A detailed constitutional analysis of the filing outlines these claims and the legal provisions involved (summary here).

One aspect of the case has proven particularly contentious: the alleged use of official government platforms, including a state-run website, to promote a specific referendum outcome. Critics argue that when state infrastructure is used in this way, it risks creating what constitutional lawyers describe as “structural bias” — a situation where the state itself is perceived as an interested party rather than an impartial referee.

These allegations, and the legal remedies sought in response, are outlined in reporting on the petition’s filing (details here).

The petition also places significant emphasis on the role of the Election Commission. It claims that the Commission was formally notified of alleged violations, supported by documentary evidence, but failed to take corrective or preventive measures. Under Bangladesh’s constitution, the Commission is an independent authority charged with safeguarding electoral integrity. Whether inaction in such circumstances constitutes a breach of constitutional duty is now a central question before the court.

Beyond individual actions, the case challenges the decision to hold a parliamentary election and a constitutional referendum on the same day. While not without precedent internationally, the petitioner argues that elections and referendums serve distinct democratic purposes and are governed by different legal standards. Conducting both simultaneously, it is claimed, may heighten voter confusion and complicate the requirement of a level playing field.

An overview of these arguments, as presented to the court, has been publicly reported (background here).

The interim government has rejected the suggestion that its conduct undermines democratic norms. In public statements, it has argued that expressing support for constitutional reform falls within its mandate and is consistent with democratic practice in a transitional context. Officials have also pointed to comparative international examples to argue that such engagement does not necessarily compromise electoral fairness.

The government’s position has been summarised in independent constitutional commentary (see overview here).

Procedurally, some related petitions have been returned or deferred by the courts without substantive hearings, citing workload and jurisdictional considerations. These decisions have not resolved the underlying issues, which continue to be debated both inside and outside legal circles.

What makes this moment particularly sensitive is not only the legal complexity, but the question of trust. Elections draw legitimacy not simply from compliance with procedural rules, but from public confidence that those rules apply equally to all participants — including the state itself. When that confidence weakens, even technically valid electoral processes can struggle to command broad acceptance.

Bangladesh has experienced contested elections before, and its institutions have navigated periods of intense political strain. The present challenge, however, raises broader questions about how neutrality is defined and enforced during political transitions. The court’s eventual ruling may therefore carry implications beyond the immediate electoral calendar, shaping expectations of institutional conduct in future contests.

Ultimately, the court’s decision will not just determine the fate of one election or referendum. It will help clarify how Bangladesh defines neutrality in moments of political transition, and how resilient its constitutional guardrails remain under pressure. In democracies everywhere, trust in the process is often harder to rebuild than laws themselves — and once eroded, it can linger long after the ballots are counted.

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

So why would sections of the Western world want Jamaat? What does the Yunus-led interim administration gain from this? What role is it playing?

A recent report in The Washington Post cited a US diplomat working in Bangladesh, claiming Washington wants to build “friendly relations” with Jamaat-e-Islami. The diplomat reportedly made the remarks in a closed-door discussion with a group of Bangladeshi women journalists on 1 December. The newspaper’s report, we are told, was built around an audio recording of that conversation.

In that recording, the diplomat expressed optimism that Jamaat would perform far better in the 12 February election than it has in the past. He even suggested the journalists invite representatives of Jamaat’s student wing to their programmes and events.

When the journalists raised a fear that Jamaat, if empowered, could enforce Sharia law, the diplomat’s response was striking: he said he did not believe Jamaat would implement Sharia. And even if it did, he added, Washington could respond with measures such as tariffs. He was also heard arguing that Jamaat includes many university graduates in leadership and would not take such a decision.

The Washington Post further quoted multiple political analysts suggesting Jamaat could achieve its best result in history in the 12 February vote and might even end up in power.

So, is this report simply the product of an “audio leak” published just 20 days before the interim government’s election? I don’t think so.

First, it stretches belief that Bangladeshi journalists would secretly record a closed conversation with a US diplomat and then pass it to The Washington Post.

Second, The Washington Post would almost certainly have cross-checked the audio with the diplomat concerned. If the diplomat had objected, it is hard to imagine the paper moving ahead in this way. My conclusion is blunt: this was published with the diplomat’s planning, or at least with the US embassy’s consent.

Call it what it is: a soft signal. A carefully calibrated message designed to project reassurance about Jamaat and to normalise the idea of Jamaat as a legitimate future governing force.

And then came the echo.

At the same time, two other international outlets, Reuters and Al Jazeera, also published reports about Jamaat-e-Islami. Both pointed towards the possibility of a strong Jamaat showing in the 12 February election. Al Jazeera’s tone, heavy with praise, makes it difficult not to suspect paid campaigning. More tellingly, an Al Jazeera poll recently put Jamaat’s public support at 33.6%, compared with 34.7% for the BNP.

The goal is obvious: to “naturalise” Jamaat’s pathway to power. To make what should shock the public feel ordinary. To convert the unthinkable into the plausible, and the plausible into the inevitable.

Which brings us to the unavoidable question: can Jamaat really win?

History says no. The highest share of the vote Jamaat ever secured in a normal election was in 1991: 12.13%. In the next three elections, Jamaat’s vote share fell to 8.68%, 4.28%, and 4.7%. In a genuinely competitive election, Jamaat is not a double-digit party.

But Bangladesh is not heading into a normal election. An unelected, illegitimate interim administration is preparing a managed vote while keeping the country’s largest political party, the Awami League, effectively outside the electoral process.

In that distorted arena, behind-the-scenes engineering is underway to seat Jamaat on the throne. The diplomat’s “leak”, the favourable international coverage, and the publication of flattering polls are not isolated incidents. They are the components of a single operation.

If anyone doubts the direction of travel, they should remember what happened after 5 August. In his first public remarks after that date, the army chief repeatedly addressed Jamaat’s leader with reverential language, calling him “Ameer-e-Jamaat”. From that moment onwards, Jamaat has exerted an outsized, near-monopolistic influence over Bangladesh’s political field.

Yes, Khaleda Zia’s illness, Tarique Rahman’s possible return, and even the prospect of Khaleda Zia’s death have periodically given the BNP a breeze at its back. But the reel and string of the political kite are now held elsewhere. Jamaat controls the tempo.

And it did not happen in a vacuum. The Awami League has been driven off the streets through mob violence, persecution, repression and judicial harassment. With its principal rival forced away from political life, Jamaat has been able to present itself not merely as a participant, but as an authority.

Now look at the state itself.

Every major organ of power, it is argued, is being brought under Jamaat’s influence. Within the military, “Islamisation” is being used as a cover for Jamaatisation. Fifteen decorated army officers are reportedly jailed on allegations connected to the disappearance of Abdullah Hil Azmi, the son of Ghulam Azam, widely regarded as a leading figure among the razakars. Yet it remains unclear whether Azmi was even abducted at all.

The judiciary, too, is described as falling almost entirely under Jamaat’s control. Key administrative positions, especially DCs, SPs, UNOs and OCs, are increasingly occupied by Jamaat-aligned officials.

On campuses, the story repeats itself. Through engineered student union elections, Jamaat’s student organisation, Islami Chhatra Shibir, has established dominance in Dhaka University and other leading public universities. Even vice-chancellor appointments are described as being shaped by Jamaat-friendly influence.

And while this internal consolidation accelerates, external courtship intensifies.

Since August 2024, Jamaat leaders have reportedly held at least four meetings in Washington with US authorities. Their close contact with the US embassy in Bangladesh continues. Meanwhile, the British High Commissioner has held multiple meetings with Jamaat’s ameer, widely reported in the media. Jamaat’s ameer has also visited the United Kingdom recently.

In short, Jamaat has reached a level of favourable conditions never seen since its founding. Not even in Pakistan, the birthplace of its ideological ecosystem.

So why would sections of the Western world want Jamaat? What does the Yunus-led interim administration gain from this? What role is it playing?

The answer offered here is uncompromising: the current interim government has signed multiple agreements with Western powers, particularly the United States, including an NDA arrangement and various trade deals that are described as being against public interest. Some may be public. Much remains opaque. The government wants these agreements protected. It also wants long-term leverage over Bangladesh’s politics and territory.

From a broader geopolitical perspective, Bangladesh’s land matters. It sits at a strategic crossroads. For those intent on consolidating dominance in the Asia-Pacific and simultaneously containing the influence of both China and India, Bangladesh is useful. This is part of a long game.

And if Jamaat, with weak popular legitimacy, can be installed in power, external agendas become easier to execute. The argument is stark: Jamaat, as a party of war criminals and anti-liberation forces, has no natural sense of accountability to Bangladesh’s soil or its people. In exchange for power, it would hand foreign actors a blank cheque.

Now to Dr Yunus.

The claim here is that since taking power, Yunus has already fulfilled his personal ambitions. He has rewarded loyalists with state titles and positions, creating opportunities for them to accumulate money. He has satisfied the demands of the “deep state” that installed him. In doing so, the country’s interests have been sacrificed at every step.

And throughout, Jamaat has offered Yunus unconditional support.

After the election, Yunus’s priority will be survival: a safe exit for himself and his circle. That is tied to securing the future of the student leaders who claim to have been the principal stakeholders of July. In this narrative, Jamaat is stepping in again. The NCP has already aligned with Jamaat. To maintain international lobbying strength, Jamaat will ensure Yunus’s safe exit. It may even install him in the presidency if that serves the arrangement.

So what will the BNP do?

The answer given is grim: very little. Blinded by the hunger for power, the BNP has nodded along as Yunus and his circle pushed forward actions described as hostile to the national interest. Mirza Fakhrul has publicly claimed to see Zia within Yunus. Tarique Rahman has repeatedly been seen praising Yunus. All of it, the argument goes, for a single purpose: to reach power.

But the BNP, it is suggested, failed to understand the real game. At the grassroots, many of its leaders and activists have become disconnected from the public through extortion, land-grabbing and violent intimidation. Even when visible irregularities occurred in student union elections at universities, the BNP’s student wing, Chhatra Dal, either did not protest or could not.

If Jamaat takes power through a staged election on 12 February, the BNP will have no meaningful recourse left.

And the country?

The conclusion is bleak: Bangladeshis should not expect their suffering to end any time soon. Just as a meticulously designed operation removed an elected Awami League government, another meticulous design is now being finalised to seat Jamaat-e-Islami, a party branded by the author as one of war criminals, with the backing of foreign powers.

Yunus’s anti-national agreements, it is argued, will be implemented through Jamaat’s hands. Independence, sovereignty and the constitution will be thrown into the dustbin. Secularism, women’s freedom, and minority rights will be locked away in cold storage. The destination is spelled out without ambiguity:

Bangladesh will become the Islamic Republic of Bangladesh.

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

Bangladesh’s interim government recently gave its final approval to the draft of ‘July Mass Uprising Protection and Liability Determination Ordinance’ that grants indemnity to those who participated in the 2024 July Uprising that forced Sheikh Hasina to end her 15-year political rule and flee the country. The ordinance, believed to be the interim government’s fulfilment of ‘earlier commitment’ to ensure ‘legal protection’ to July participants, would take the shape of a law soon.

The ordinance provides impunity to participants from ‘activities carried out with the purpose of political resistance’ during 2024 uprising in July and August. Meaning, if criminal cases are slapped any of uprising participants for carrying out ‘political resistance during uprising’, such cases will be withdrawn by the government. Moreover, the ordinance adds that ‘no new cases will be filed’ against them, from now on, for their activities during the uprising.

The events of July-August have various connotations—uprising, revolution, political coup and political resistance. Those who participated in the uprising called it a ‘revolution’ that paved the way for ‘New Bangladesh’ or ‘Second Republic’. This group, composed mostly of student leaders who led the uprising and some later formed the National Citizen’s Party (NCP), has not only framed the uprising as ‘second liberation’ but also introduced a new political discussion where 1971 Liberation was brought back, reinterpreted and even compared with the 2024 uprising.

The 2024 ‘revolution’ has been portrayed by this group as fulfilling what 1971 could not, a liberation that gave Bangladesh its ‘true independence’. The same narrative is also echoed by another faction—the Islamists—for whom 2024 Uprising rolled the red carpet for their resurgence in the political field and now forms the main contending group against Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) in the February 2026 national election.

Collectively, the Awami League is now branded as a ‘fascist’, a justification used by the interim government for banning Awami League’s political activities in May, closing the League’s door to participate in the February 2026 national election. 

The interim government, in its official capacity, recognised the July participants as ‘july warriors’ (July Joddha), similar to ‘war heroes’ (Mukti Joddha) of Liberation War. On the first anniversary of the uprising, the interim government unveiled the July Declaration on 5 August 2025, following pressures from Student Against Discrimination (SAD), the main force behind the July Uprising and NCP to give 2024 events a constitutional recognition.

The Declaration, declared to be given a constitutional status, was supposed to be a statement to recognise the July Uprising and its ambitions for ‘Second Republic’. Rather, it became a political fatwa against Awami League and its political past since 1971 (as interpreted by its opponents), an obituary of the 1972 Constitution that is now labelled as ‘Mujibist Constitution’, and legitimising the ‘unconstitutionally’ formed interim government. 

There is little doubt about the interim government’s biases towards leaders of the July Uprising. Indeed, it was the student leaders of SAD that invited Muhammad Yunus to come back to Bangladesh and take the role of the chief advisor of the interim government on 8 August 2024.

In return, three of the advisors in the interim government were student leaders of July Uprising. Many in the political circle believe that the interim government that helped the formation of National Citizen’s Party (NCP), a King’s Party, by intentionally delaying the announcement of an election roadmap. The neutrality became exposed when one of the advisors resigned to become the convenor of the NCP, while another resigned only recently to become the NCP’s spokesperson.

Since NCP’s establishment, the interim government displayed its soft corner for the student party, echoing the same political narrative as that of NCP, and even actively taking measures of historical revisionism to erase Awami League and Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s legacy.

The recognition of July warriors has not been without controversy either. The gazetted list of about 1,402 warriors declared as ‘national heroes’ are promised tax benefits, welfare and rehabilitation, and now legal protection as per the 14 January ordinance. However, the gazetted lists were accused of including fake claimants, irregularities and political misuse, ironically the accusations slapped against Sheikh Hasina during the early phase of July Uprising when it was in the stage of anti-quota protest.

The ‘July warriors’ also violently clashed with police on the day of signing of the July Charter in October demanding for state recognition of martyr status, in addition to compensation and legal immunity—demands that were ultimately added as Clause 5 of the July Charter.

The latest move to this shenanigan—the July Mass Uprising Protection ordinance—justifies all kinds of acts that happened in July-August, especially violence against minorities and looting of arms from security forces, by indirectly branding these acts as ‘political resistance’. The wave of communal violence witnessed during this time, and continues even today were dismissed by the interim government as ‘political’.

Despite international reports, the interim government insists on these being ‘non-communal’ attacks. With only less than three weeks before 13^th national election, over one-third of the polling booths are also marked as ‘risky’, while about 1,3331 of the 5,763 firearms and explosive looted during July Uprising remain missing, posing an alarming risk to security during the election time.

The protection ordinance potentially shields all human rights abuses. Although the interim government clarified that only ‘political resistance’ is to be given legal protection, the tweaking of human rights abuses as ‘political reaction’ leaves little room to comprehend that all these criminal acts will also be treated as ‘political resistance’.

The shameful attempt to equate 2024 July with the 1971 Liberation War, by providing equal status, benefits, memorials, and now legal protection not only downplays Bangladesh’s painful history but also changes the whole political trajectory of the country where political violence will get state protection.

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

But I shall never forget my people, especially at a time when the rise of extremist ideologies and violent political and religious persecution puts Bangladesh at serious risk of a period of decline from which it will take many years to recover.

Recently, the unelected Interim Government of Bangladesh, headed by Muhammad Yunus, announced that elections would be held on February 12th, 2026. The country’s largest secular political party, Awami League however, has been eliminated from the political process through violent persecution – including numerous lynchings, unjust imprisonment and torture – and arbitrary administrative measures.

This troubling chaos and political vacuum has given extremist political parties with a fanatical religious ideology – the Jamaat-e-Islami in particular – free rein to assume power, in the absence of a secular counterpart that historically stood against and prevented its rise. This alarming situation will inevitably give rise to years of instability and serious threats to regional security. It is imperative that the international community, and the United States in particular, ensure that any elections are free, fair, and all-inclusive.

As many human rights organizations have reported, since the overthrow of the constitutional government in August 2024, there have been numerous violent attacks against Hindu, Christian, Buddhist, and other religious minorities and their places of worship. These reports document patterns of collective punishment in districts associated with secular and opposition political parties, and districts with a sizable minority population.

Several opposition political figures, including myself, have been sentenced to death in widely-condemned trials before the International Crimes Tribunal of Bangladesh, and there is a serious fear that arbitrary executions may follow.

Ironically, the Tribunal was created in 1973 to prosecute the collaborators who assisted the Pakistani army in the genocide during the 1971 War of Independence under the leadership of my father Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, during which some 3 million Bangladeshi civilians were murdered and countless women and girls became victims of horrific sexual violence. These are the same political forces that are now seeking a come-back with the apparent support of the Interim Government.

When I was elected in 2008, Bangladesh was a hotbed of extremist forces and terrorism. In its tenure of 16 years, my government worked, under enormous pressure, to keep these fanatical movements contained and to protect the secular constitution of the country.

As a result, Bangladesh saw long periods of stability and unprecedented economic prosperity that witnessed an astonishing 500% increase in per capita GDP, lifting millions out of poverty. This progress was achieved against the backdrop of several plots to assassinate myself and my sole surviving family member, my sister Sheikh Rehana. All of our parents and siblings, including our 10-year old brother, were murdered in cold blood in 1975 by the same political forces that are today seeking power.

Extremist ideologies rarely vanish; they wait for opportunities created by political exclusion, institutional weakening and social fear. Today, all of the guardrails that once constrained them have started to crumble. But I have arisen from this valley of death before and will do so again, with one conviction: that it is my sacred duty to protect the democratic rights of Bangladesh and to promote the dignity of its people. I will continue to stand for this struggle no matter who tries to silence me.

Invariably, during this period of extraordinary prosperity, mistakes were also made, and there are many lessons to be learned on the historical path of progress. In particular, during 2024, amidst a campaign of hate propaganda, misinformation and violent insurrection, numerous protestors and police officers were killed.

I had immediately ordered an impartial inquiry to establish responsibility for these tragic deaths, which the Interim Government has abandoned in favour of politicized sham trials and death sentences, while at the same time offering immunity to those who instigated the violence. The purpose of the agitators was simply the unconstitutional overthrow of the Government, which resulted in my exile to India on August 5th, 2024, and the current predicament.

But I shall never forget my people, especially at a time when the rise of extremist ideologies and violent political and religious persecution puts Bangladesh at serious risk of a period of decline from which it will take many years to recover.

The exclusion of the secular Awami League from forthcoming elections is inextricably tied to the rise of extremists, who present a dire threat not only to the people of Bangladesh, but also to the United States and its allies, as a once stable, secular, and prosperous country descends into a source of perpetual instability, decline and terrorism.

Bangladesh, with a population of 170 million, is situated in a vital strategic region, at the centre of the Bay of Bengal, between India and Myanmar. If it falls in the hands of extremists and their global network, its fallout will carry consequences far beyond its borders.

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

In an exclusive email interview, former Bangladesh Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina speaks to The Milli Chronicle about the violent turn of the 2024 protests that led to her departure, failure of Yunus-led interim government, and her concerns over extremism, democratic legitimacy, and Bangladesh’s political and strategic future.

Question: Could you share what factors influenced your decision to leave Bangladesh, and what assurances you would need to consider returning?

Answer: What began as a genuine student movement was escalated by radicalists who led the crowds into violence, destroying state and communications infrastructure and burning down police stations. By then, this was no longer a peaceful civic movement, but a violent mob.

My instinct has always been to protect our country and our citizens, and it was not an easy decision to leave while my country erupted into lawlessness. I regret that I was compelled to leave, but it was a decision I took to minimize any further loss of life, and to ensure the safety of people around me.

For me to return, Bangladesh must restore constitutional governance and the rule of law. This means lifting the unlawful ban on the Awami League, releasing political prisoners detained on fabricated charges, and holding genuinely free elections. You cannot claim democratic legitimacy while banning the party elected nine times by the people.

Question: How do you reflect on your government’s handling of the 2024 protests, and how do you respond to the concerns raised about the use of force and the legal cases that followed?

Answer: In the initial days, we allowed students to protest freely and accepted their demands. Then extremists transformed peaceful demonstrations into a violent insurrection. We responded as any government would when faced with burning police stations and attacks on state infrastructure; we acted to restore order and to prevent further bloodshed.

I attempted to gain a full picture of the events in August 2024 by establishing a judicial inquiry commission to investigate every death. The conspiracy behind these attacks became clear only later when Yunus immediately dissolved this inquiry, released convicted terrorists, and granted blanket immunity to those he now glorifies as ‘July Warriors.’ These same actors marched on the Indian embassy last week, no doubt emboldened by the protection of the interim government.

If there were genuine concerns about excessive force or wrongful prosecutions, why destroy the very mechanism designed to investigate them? The truth is that Yunus has consistently thwarted attempts to establish what really happened in July and August 2024, because an impartial investigation would reveal the orchestrated nature of the violence.

Question: What is your assessment of the current Yunus-led regime, and how do you view Bangladesh’s future—both with the proposed February 2026 elections and in the longer term?

Answer: We cannot forget that Yunus governs without a single vote from the Bangladeshi people. He has placed extremists in cabinet positions, released convicted terrorists, and done little or nothing to stop attacks on religious minorities. The economy that quadrupled during my tenure is now stalling.

Yunus came to power promising reform yet all he has sown division and banned the country’s oldest and most popular political party, thus disenfranchising millions. These elections can never be legitimate if the Awami League is banned.

My concern is that extremists are using Yunus to project an acceptable international face while they radicalise our institutions domestically. But Bangladesh and its people have extraordinary resilience and an unwavering belief in the power of participatory democracy. I trust that democracy will prevail and that we will set our great country back on the path to recovery and growth.

Question: Looking back, how do you view the debate over democratic space during your tenure, and what reforms or new approaches would you prioritize if given another opportunity to lead?

Answer: I believe our greatest achievement as a party was the restoration of democracy in the 1990s. When I returned to Bangladesh following my father’s assassination, the biggest challenge facing our country was a lack of popular representation. Those years of military rule and unelected leadership taught us valuable lessons about the power of democracy that we never took for granted during our time in government. As a government, we encouraged political engagement and participation across the nation. Democracy thrives with healthy opposition, yet some of those parties chose to boycott previous elections, restricting the democratic choice of millions of ordinary citizens.

It is interesting that those who accused us of restricting democratic space now rule without a single vote, have forced judges to resign, and have detained journalists brave enough to critique their increasingly authoritarian grip on our nation. The question isn’t what reforms I would implement, it’s whether Bangladesh will retain any democratic institutions to reform.

We are proud of our record in government. During those 15 years, we helped to lift millions out of poverty, empowered women, and transformed Bangladesh into one of Asia’s fastest-growing economies. We consistently protected the rights of minorities and prevented radicalism from eroding our democracy. It takes a legitimate and strong government to forge our country’s place both domestically and internationally, and we did so by operating within constitutional boundaries. We were repeatedly mandated by voters at the ballot box.

Question: How do you assess the country’s current political course under the interim government, particularly in terms of national stability and long-term strategic interests?

Answer: The Yunus government took power with a wave of western support from those who confused economic success with political aptitude. Reality has now set in. International bodies condemn his actions, cabinet members have stepped down in protest, and our citizens face unprecedented danger. Hundreds of innocent people have been detained arbitrarily under Yunus and journalists have been censored.

On the international stage, decades of carefully cultivated economic partnerships and regional stability have also been jeopardised.

This goes beyond mere incompetence; it is the systemic destruction of a once-stable country. Thankfully, such regimes never endure, and Yunus’ treatment of Bangladesh as his personal experiment will soon end. I can only hope that the international community will do its part in ensuring free, fair and participatory elections, so that the next legitimately elected government can rebuild what Yunus and his cronies have destroyed.

Question: Since your departure, Pakistan’s outreach and influence in Bangladesh appears to have grown. How do you think Bangladesh can balance evolving regional relationships while preserving its historical commitments, security priorities, and ties with India?

Answer: Bangladesh requires stable relationships with all neighbours, including Pakistan. But Yunus’ rushed embrace of Pakistan, which has never acknowledged the genocide of 1971, reveals a desperate search for any international validation.

The fundamental issue is legitimacy: Yunus lacks any mandate to realign our foreign policy. Strategic decisions that could affect generations should not be made by an unelected administration serving ideological interests. Once Bangladeshis can vote freely and we have a legitimate government in place, I hope that our foreign policy will once again be based on sober and pragmatic assessments of the country’s national interests.

Excerpts from this interview may be reproduced or quoted, provided that The Milli Chronicle is clearly credited as the source.

Pakistan’s terror networks—Lashkar-e-Taiba, Jaish-e-Mohammed, and their Al-Qaeda-linked proxies—have dramatically increased their presence in the region.

Under the present administration, Al-Qaeda appears to be resurfacing from the concealed depths of Bangladesh’s security landscape.

The political landscape of Bangladesh—already shaken by the 5 August 2024 coup and the forced exile of the nation’s most successful leader, Sheikh Hasina—has now been rocked by a far more explosive revelation.

An investigative exposé reported by The Wall Street Journal has unearthed deeply disturbing allegations: individuals identified internationally as financiers of the deadly Al-Qaeda network may have had connections with firms associated with Muhammad Yunus and his sprawling Grameen empire.

This is not a trivial accusation. Nor is it an isolated claim from a fringe outlet. A leading Bangladesh magazine has sounded the alarm with striking clarity, arguing that these links—if proven—may help explain the sudden surge of Pakistan-backed extremist activity inside Bangladesh since the coup.

At the heart of this crisis lies a single, burning question: Has Yunus’s opaque financial empire indirectly opened doors to radical networks, and if so, who enabled it, who benefited, and who now shields him from scrutiny?

A Pattern of Darkness Behind a Global Smile

For decades, Muhammad Yunus has been portrayed internationally as a saintly figure—soft-spoken, smiling, and draped in the aura of microcredit idealism because deceptive playability. But behind the poetic façade lies a network of more than 100 interlinked companies, trusts, foundations, and financial conduits that have long been criticized for their lack of transparency, dubious accounting practices, and evasive oversight structures.

These concerns were once dismissed by foreign observers as mere “political differences” between Yunus and Sheikh Hasina. But the recent revelations change everything. They raise the possibility—not yet proven, but deeply alarming—that shadowy financiers connected to global jihadist networks may have moved money through or around the Grameen ecosystem.

With billions of dollars in donor funds, foreign grants, complex inter-company loans, and off-the-books financial arrangements, the Grameen structure has always been a maze. In an era where extremist networks are known to exploit NGOs, microfinance channels, and rural financial systems to move money discreetly, such opacity is not merely a governance failure—it is a national security threat.

The Coup That Removed Oversight

These allegations emerge at a moment when Bangladesh’s institutions lie in ruins. Since the CIA and ISI-engineered regime change of August 2024, the country has had no functioning parliament, no independent judiciary, no independent anti-corruption body, and no credible financial regulator.

The unelected ruler—Muhammad Yunus himself—captured the state and dismantled every mechanism capable of investigating him.

It is precisely this vacuum of accountability that enables extremist groups to thrive. Pakistan’s terror networks—Lashkar-e-Taiba, Jaish-e-Mohammed, and their Al-Qaeda-linked proxies—have dramatically increased their presence in the region.

Is it coincidence that this rise began immediately after Yunus took control? Or is the environment of lawlessness, political chaos, and financial secrecy under Yunus providing fertile ground for jihadist infiltration?

These questions demand answers—not whispered discussions, not selective disclosures, but a full, internationally supervised audit of all Grameen entities and their financial partners.

Sheikh Hasina’s Warning Echoes Louder Than Ever

From exile in Delhi, the rightful Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina issued a searing statement that now seems prophetic:

“He is a cheat who has destroyed his country for his ambitions. Now he and his coterie are looting the country and running it to the ground.”

At the time, critics dismissed her words as political rhetoric. Yet today, as allegations of extremist-linked financiers swirl around Yunus’s corporate web, her warning bears the weight of grim truth.

Hasina always understood the danger of allowing unregulated, foreign-funded financial empires to operate outside state scrutiny. Yunus, meanwhile, weaponized foreign applause to evade domestic accountability—until the coup handed him unchecked power.

Why the Allegations Matter for Bangladesh’s Survival

If even a fraction of the allegations proves credible, the implications are severe:

• Bangladesh’s security architecture may have been compromised.
• Extremist financing routes may have passed through respected institutions shielded by Yunus’s global reputation.
• Pakistan’s ISI-backed networks may already be embedded within Bangladesh’s financial and political landscape.
• The coup regime may be enabling—intentionally the resurgence of jihadist forces for their safety.

A nation built on the ideals of secularism, pluralism, and the sacrifices of 1971 cannot afford such vulnerabilities. Bangladesh is not just fighting for democracy—it is fighting for its survival as a tolerant, modern state.

An International Investigation Is Needed

The time for polite hesitation is over. The time for diplomatic courtesy is over.

What Bangladesh needs—what Bangladesh demands—is an independent international investigation into:

• All Grameen-linked companies, trusts, and financial entities
• All foreign donors and partners
• Any individuals identified as Al-Qaeda or extremist financiers
• All transactions since the coup of August 2024
• Any state or non-state actors facilitating extremist expansion inside Bangladesh

Nothing less will suffice.

Bangladesh cannot rely on an unelected ruler to investigate himself. Nor can a captured state apparatus provide transparency. Only global scrutiny—led by financial intelligence units, counterterrorism experts, and international auditors—can uncover the truth.

The Darkness Must Be Confronted

Bangladesh today stands at a crossroads. The shadows around Yunus’s Grameen empire are deepening, and the allegations now touch upon the most dangerous elements of global extremism. What was once seen as a matter of “microfinance disputes” now appears to be a potential national and international security emergency.

If Yunus has nothing to hide, he should welcome an independent audit. But if he resists, the world will know what that resistance signifies.

For the sake of Bangladesh’s integrity, for the legacy of 1971, and for the protection of its people, the truth must come out—fully, fearlessly, and without compromise.

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

Hyenas of the defeated forces of 1971 now roam unchallenged.

A medieval darkness has descended upon the sacred land of independent Bangladesh. Law and order lie in shambles. Robbery and organised plunder now stain towns and villages alike. The nation stands captured by anti-Bangladesh forces—those who once trembled before the ideals of 1971 but now strut shamelessly across the land in this grim interregnum.

The illegal and unconstitutional “Interim Government” led by Prof. Dr. Muhammad Yunus has exposed its moral bankruptcy by failing to safeguard the sanctity of our national icons—Bangabandhu Memorial Museum, his murals, his statues, and the homes and temples of our religious minorities, especially the Hindu community.

Hyenas of the defeated forces of 1971 now roam unchallenged. Bangladesh has been thrust into the hands of the very criminals and collaborators whom history had once consigned to disgrace.

Let us be absolutely clear: Sheikh Hasina’s fall did not occur because of a student-led anti-quota movement. That movement was merely the surface ripple concealing a deep and treacherous undercurrent. From the very beginning, the unrest was a meticulously crafted pretext—a multilayered, billion-dollar blueprint engineered by a powerful Western intelligence agency acting in close concert with its local henchmen.

Among these were Dr. Yunus, long a favoured protégé of foreign powers; the Jamaat-BNP nexus; the Pakistani ISI; extremist right-wing Islamist networks; an ambitious army chief and his loyal cabal; and even the strategic manipulations of the Chinese dragon. Together, this unholy coalition executed a hawk-eyed operation to unseat Sheikh Hasina through an unlawful coup on 5 August 2024.

The objective of this foreign power was as brazen as it was sinister: to compel Bangladesh to surrender Saint Martin’s Island. Situated in the northeastern Bay of Bengal, the island offers unparalleled strategic advantage over Southeast Asia and the broader Indo-Pacific. Sheikh Hasina, steadfast and patriotic, refused to reduce Bangladesh to a tributary state by allowing the establishment of a foreign military base.

For this refusal, she was removed.

What followed her ousting exposed the true barbarism of the conspirators. Looting, arson, temple desecration, forced occupation of minority homes, and unchecked violence swept across the nation with an intensity unseen in decades.

The perpetrators were not faceless; they were the same elements who opposed the Liberation War in 1971—Jamaat-e-Islami mass-murderers, their Shibir offspring, extremist mullahs, and various mercenary groups driven by religious bigotry and political vengeance.

On television, I witnessed scenes that seared my soul: a Hindu girl being dragged away by bearded zealots in a van while her father ran behind, crying in desperation; mobs of students—many naïve, many manipulated—raiding Sheikh Hasina’s home and proudly displaying stolen sarees before TV cameras; thugs parading items looted from the Prime Minister’s residence as if these were trophies of national triumph.

These were not acts of rebellion; they were acts of savagery.

And then came the final abomination: the attack on Bangabandhu’s historic home at Dhanmondi 32—the lighthouse of our national identity. What kind of nation allows the house of its founding father to be desecrated? What kind of creatures tear apart the very symbols of their own freedom?

These hellish beings sought not only to erase Sheikh Hasina’s legacy but to wipe out every sign of the Awami League’s monumental development achievement—bridges, highways, mega-projects, and the billions of dollars invested for the people’s welfare.

The “Interim Government” formed on 8 August 2024—under the shadow of guns and the blessing of foreign manipulators—had no constitutional basis. It was a grotesque aberration led by an octogenarian whose own judicial record is marred by convictions for labour law violations. Yet he postured as a saviour while presiding over the country’s descent into ruin.

Russia had warned us. On 15 December 2020, and again in 2023, Moscow publicly stated that a certain Western power intended to topple Sheikh Hasina if she returned to power. They predicted an Arab-Spring-style operation—one centred on university students, amplified by media propaganda, and lubricated by covert funding.

The children of this country—who never saw 1971, who do not know the long, treacherous shadow of the U.S.-Pakistani conspiracy behind Bangabandhu’s assassination—walked blindly into a geopolitical minefield. One day, they will look back in regret, realising they were pawns in a far greater game. By then, the damage may be irreversible.

Why were the verdicts timed as they were? Why did certain newspapers and television channels give extraordinary coverage from the very first hour? Who coordinated the protests? Who supplied funds, food, and logistics? Who weaponised social media? Who reaped the benefits? These questions answer themselves.

Most critically: Sheikh Hasina has not resigned. She remains the lawfully elected and rightful Prime Minister of Bangladesh. Her removal was effected at gunpoint—by an unworthy army chief and his mango-twigs, acting under the directives of foreign masters and their local Islamist proxies.

Today, Bangladesh is being forced toward a Hamas-ISIS styled banana republic, a grotesque distortion of the secular, democratic state for which we fought in 1971.

As a frontline Freedom Fighter who witnessed the brutal birth of Bangladesh with my own eyes, I pledge—until my final breath—to proclaim: Joy Bangla, Joy Bangabandhu, and Joytu Sheikh Hasina. Bangladesh awaits her return. And return she shall.

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

Bangladesh will not be deceived by borrowed prestige. Nor will it forgive betrayal of its sacred destiny.

In the hierarchy of global honours, few distinctions have commanded as much reverence as the Nobel Peace Prize. Established in 1901 according to the will of Alfred Nobel, the Prize was conceived as a tribute to those who strove for the fraternity of nations, the reduction or abolition of standing armies, and the promotion of peace over war.

For decades, it symbolised not merely recognition, but a clarion call to moral leadership—a testament to humanity’s capacity to transcend violence with conscience, humility and courage. Yet, in our present time, the Peace Prize is increasingly not of the nobility not losing it as a sacred accolade, but also as an ornament of geopolitical performance—a gilded endorsement bestowed often to appease global powers, sanctify political narratives or embellish diplomatic theatre.

The Case of Muhammad Yunus and the Loss of National Trust

No example illustrates this tragic dissonance more painfully for Bangladesh than the figure of Dr. Muhammad Yunus, the nation’s sole Nobel Peace laureate. Once celebrated for the model of microcredit under cloak-and-dagger of manipulation and the rhetoric of poverty alleviation, Yunus today stands as a deeply polarising figure—regarded by many Bangladesh’s people not as a pioneer of social uplift, but as an architect of manipulation, financial exploitation and political intrigue.

His legacy, instead of strengthening social peace, has been seen to align with the direful foreign factions and forces that undermined democratic stability and the sacred aspirations of the Liberation War of 1971.

At this pivotal moment in Bangladesh’s contemporary history, Yunus is not remembered as a symbol of principled peace, but as a man who allowed foreign power networks and private ambition to overshadow the national conscience. Thus, the Nobel Peace Prize awarded to him has come to represent a stark and discomforting paradox: global prestige divorced from moral accountability. The medallion glitters—but its glow conceals shadows.

Political theorist Peiman Salehi offers a piercing interpretation: today, the Peace Prize is awarded not to those who challenge systems of domination, but to those who help make empire comfortable. Peace, in this modern architecture, has become negotiable—compliant, symbolic, and cosmetic.

And when peace becomes merely the illusion of calm rather than the triumph of justice, the trophy itself becomes meaningless.

When the Prize Still Meant Something

There was a time when the Nobel Peace Prize resonated with authenticity. When the first laureates—Henri Dunant, the founder of the Red Cross, and Frédéric Passy, a tireless advocate of international arbitration—were honoured, their recognition arose not from political expediency but from humanitarian transformation. Their work echoed conscience, sacrifice and the fundamental belief that humanity must rise above barbarism.

Later laureates such as Elie Wiesel embodied this moral vocation. “I accept this great honour on behalf of the many who perished,” he said, reminding the world that memory must prevent the repetition of atrocity. In such moments, the Prize served as a beacon of ethical clarity, not a tool of global branding.

The Gradual Descent

However, scholars such as Fredrik Heffermehl have rigorously shown that the Peace Prize has, over the past century, strayed from Nobel’s original criteria. Nearly half the awards conferred since the Second World War, he argues, do not conform to Nobel’s explicit mandate of demilitarisation and anti-imperial peace. The Prize has often rewarded heads of state whose involvement in war and coercive diplomacy contradicts the very ideal they were honoured for.

Critics have lamented that the Prize has shifted from recognizing courageous dissent to incentivizing diplomatic decorum. Peace has become an ill performance, not a principle. The honour often celebrates ceasefire photography rather than the dismantling of violence itself. The air of sanctity surrounding the Prize has increasingly dissipated, replaced by cynicism and intellectual disquiet.

Indeed, one commentator suggested renaming it “The Global Order De-Stabilization Prize”—a sarcastic epithet symbolizing how the award is frequently used to fortify the status quo rather than to challenge injustices that perpetuate conflict.

The World’s Growing Demand for an Alternative

If the Nobel Peace Prize can no longer be relied upon as a faithful steward of global moral conscience, then we must ask: Is the world not urgently in need of a new way to honour peace? A new prize—one grounded not in diplomacy and political convenience, but in integrity, justice, and transformative compassion?

Such a new award must be built on three unshakeable pillars:

1. Integrity and Transparency
   The criteria for recognition must be unambiguous, accountable and rooted in verifiable contribution—not reputation, lobbying networks or geopolitical alignment.
2. Justice as the Foundation of Peace
   As Martin Luther King Jr. taught us, peace does not mean the absence of conflict—it means the presence of justice. One cannot reward peace where injustice is left intact.
3. Recognition of the Unheard and the Unseen
   Peace is most often built by those who do their work quietly—community organizers, women mediators, indigenous & minorities defenders, grassroots activists. The award must centre them—not the well-polished foxy people like Yunus who receive applause and cameras.

A Vision for the Future: The Global Peace Integrity Award

Let us imagine an annual Global Peace Integrity Award (GPIA). Its selection committee would be composed of conflict survivors, human rights advocates, social workers and scholars—individuals who understand peace not as theory, but as struggle. Recipients would be chosen only when their work has measurably reduced violence, restored dignity or strengthened justice. Fanfare would be unnecessary. Authenticity would be the source of prestige.

Such a prize would accomplish what the Nobel once promised: it would serve as a moral compass.

Lessons from the Nobel’s Decline

Even the Nobel Committee itself has acknowledged its limitations. Former Secretary Geir Lundestad admitted, “If the purpose of the Nobel Peace Prize had been to establish peace all over the world, it would clearly have failed.”

Recognition is not transformation. Applause is not peace.

Desmond Tutu once reflected that the Prize opened doors—but he also implied that it placed him inside the same halls of power where compromise and negotiation overshadow ideals. The paradox is clear: awards can either amplify moral truth—or neutralise it.

Bangladesh’s Final Word

And so, we return to Muhammad Yunus. His Nobel medallion cannot erase or overshadow the wounds inflicted upon the national conscience in Bangladesh. The honour he wears internationally stands in painful contradiction to peace.  

This nation—born from blood, sacrifice, tears and unbreakable resolve—does not measure greatness by Western trophies. It measures greatness by fidelity to the spirit of 1971.

Bangladesh will not be deceived by borrowed prestige. Nor will it forgive betrayal of its sacred destiny.

Yunus may keep his medal.
But he has lost the trust of the nation that once gave him moral legitimacy.

History will record this truth.

Let the Work of Real Peace Begin

The time has come to end the charade.
To reject performative peace.
To restore dignity, justice and moral courage to the idea of peace itself.

Let this be the moment the world stops applauding illusions—and begins honouring transformation.

The mockery must end. The real work must begin.

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

In a cruel twist of fate, the criminals’ progeny now don the robes of righteousness while the true patriots stand accused.

In the dismal theatre of Bangladesh’s recent political tragedy, a new act of deception unfolds. Draped in the solemn garb of justice but driven by blood-soaked ambitions, the International Crimes Tribunal (ICT) Bangladesh now stands as a grotesque caricature of its former purpose.

The very institution once designed to mete out justice for the heinous atrocities of 1971 has been infiltrated—occupied—by those whose ideological ancestors – Jamaat-e-Islami mass-murderers bathed this soil in the blood of innocents.

Today, the hangman wears a wig, and justice lies gagged beneath his boot.

The ICT Bangladesh, once hailed as a beacon of national redemption, is now but a blighted husk—a sanctimonious facade controlled by those who once sought to crush the very birth of Bangladesh in 1971. Its judges, its prosecution panel, and its operatives are no longer guardians of truth. They are, in many cases, ideological descendants or direct cronies of the very Jamaat-e-Islami mass murderers who collaborated with the Pakistani army to massacre our people in 1971.

This is no idle allegation. It is a scream from the soul of a wounded nation. How did the butchers of Al-Badr and Al-Shams—the enforcers of genocide—regain the power to adjudicate truth and fiction? How dare they now point a crooked finger at the very architects of our liberation?

Those who once carried the green flag of Pakistan into our neighborhoods, who torched our villages, raped our mothers, and hanged our fathers, now sit in judgment over HPM Sheikh Hasina—the daughter of our founding father—and the Awami League stalwarts who carried the torch of independence through blood and fire.

The July–August 2024 events in Bangladesh—twisted into a grotesque narrative of state-led genocide—are being weaponized by these impostors. 98% murders were committed by the Jamaat-Shibir butchers and their direful mango-twigs! But they have now seized the ICT Bangladesh as their instrument, not of justice, but of revenge. They seek to rewrite history, to humiliate the legacy of 1971, to exonerate the traitors and criminalize the freedom fighters.

This is a blasphemy of the highest order.

The tribunals have become kangaroo courts where truth is the first casualty. The prosecutors do not seek justice; they seek retribution for the defeat their fathers suffered in 1971. The judges do not interpret the law; they distort it, drape it around the gallows they build for patriots. These are not courts of law. They are execution chambers for history itself.

Let us remind these usurpers: HPM Sheikh Hasina’s government did not commit genocide in July–August 2024. Her government sought to preserve order when chaos was unleashed by foreign-backed infiltrators, aided by the very ideological heirs of Jamaat-e-Islami.

The arson, sabotage, and killings were not orchestrated by the state, but by a coalition of dark forces determined to unseat the legitimate government and restore the regime of direful collaborators.

Let there be no confusion—this is not merely a judicial matter. It is an existential crisis. The ICT Bangladesh has mutated into a Trojan horse of the Jamaati-Shibir nexus. Its continued existence in this form is a mockery of every martyr who bled on the soil of Bengal for freedom. The very men who once branded the war of 1971 as “haram” and pledged allegiance to the occupying Pakistani forces are now masquerading as custodians of justice.

How far have we fallen when the freedom fighters must plead their innocence before the ideological descendants of their oppressors?

In courtrooms darkened by deceit, verdicts are preordained. The hallowed robes of justice are smeared with the filth of hypocrisy. And those who cry for a fair trial for Sheikh Hasina and her colleagues are dismissed, vilified, and condemned.

Yet it is the nation that must rise.

We must speak not just as citizens, but as inheritors of a sacred cause. We must rise in unison against this vile masquerade of justice. We must denounce the ICT Bangladesh for what it has become—a collaborator’s tribunal, a platform for vengeance, a stage for the desecration of our liberation war.

The institutions that betray the soul of a nation have no right to exist.

It is, therefore, imperative that ICT Bangladesh in designedly the current form be disbanded—tout de suite. Its structure, infiltrated by Jamaati sympathizers, has lost all credibility. Its verdicts are poisoned, its judges compromised, its mission perverted. The house must be torn down, brick by brick, and a new temple of justice must be built upon its ashes—one that honors the martyrs, that reveres the truth, and that punishes the real criminals of our blood-stained past.

This is not merely a political stance. It is a moral imperative.

Let us revisit the history these court jesters now seek to erase. In 1971, over three million of our people were butchered. Over three hundred thousand women were raped. The killers were not nameless shadows—they wore uniforms provided by Pakistan and were guided by the murderous hands of Jamaat-e-Islami and their Al-Badr militias. They swore to crush the dream of Bangladesh. They failed—because brave men and women stood tall, among them Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, his true-blue lieutenants and his indomitable daughter HPM Sheikh Hasina.

And now, fifty-four years later, we see the grotesque irony of history: the children of those butchers deciding the fate of those who built this nation.

No! A thousand times, no!

We cannot allow this to continue. We must name the imposter judges. We must unmask the collaborators in prosecutor’s clothing. We must confront every verdict that reeks of vengeance and vendetta. The ICT Bangladesh, as it stands today, is a dagger in the back of our history. It has become a safehouse for the ideological murderers of 1971.

If we stay silent, we become complicit.

This is the hour to rise—not with arms, but with truth. Not with blood, but with remembrance. Let every Bangladesh’s people who still feels the heartbeat of 1971 throb in their veins raise their voice. Let the youth know that justice is not a costume, that truth cannot be handed over to traitors, that history must be defended.

Sheikh Hasina is not on trial. Bangladesh is.

This tribunal is not about the past. It is a cold war for the future.

Do not allow the hangman’s wig to fool you. Beneath it is the same rotting head that once declared our liberation illegal, our flag a provocation, our language a blasphemy.

Disband ICT Bangladesh as it is twisted now to serve their evil designs. Root out the Jamaati infestation. Purge the judiciary of traitors. Let the nation reclaim the moral compass of 1971.

And to those who sit in judgment today—be warned. The people of Bangladesh are not blind. The river of our memory runs deep. And when justice returns, as it must, it will not be cloaked in hypocrisy. It will come roaring like a storm, not to hang patriots, but to redeem them.

History does not forget.

And neither shall we. A vile masquerade of justice – The International Crimes Tribunal, Bangladesh beneath Jamaati-Shibir butchers’ cloak.

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.