Dipak Kurmi
(The writer can be reached at dipakkurmiglpltd@gmail.com.)
The hopeful blaze of rebellion that lit up the skies of Dhaka in mid-2024 has dimmed into a clouded, oppressive dusk. What began as a student-led uprising against corruption, dynastic politics, and economic stagnation-forcing Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina to flee to India-has tragically unravelled into a period marked by ideological regression, authoritarian drift, and creeping Islamist dominance. The Bangladesh that once stood proudly as South Asia's most argumentative and culturally vibrant democracy now teeters on the edge of theocratic re-engineering and systemic collapse.
The revolt of 2024 was as sudden as it was spirited. Students, frustrated by chronic youth unemployment, shrinking civic space, and what many saw as Hasina's dynastic entrenchment of the Awami League, took to the streets in massive numbers. Their slogans echoed those of 1968's uprising against Ayub Khan, calling for democratic accountability, education reforms, and job creation. For a moment, it seemed as if Bangladesh was poised for a second liberation-this time not from a foreign power, but from the entrenchment of domestic power elites. Some hailed the fall of Hasina, long seen as the most powerful political figure in Bangladesh since her father, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, as the end of an era of arrogance and impunity. But the vacuum her departure left behind has been rapidly filled not by democratic reformers, but by forces steeped in religious fundamentalism and violence.
Muhammad Yunus, Nobel Laureate and global champion of microfinance, was propelled into a caretaker leadership role, promising technocratic competence and political neutrality. But his transitional government has become synonymous not with reform, but with retreat. Instead of charting a forward path toward inclusive democracy, it has either failed-or chosen not-to arrest the growing tide of Islamism sweeping across Bangladesh's institutions, streets, and psyche. Critics argue Yunus's administration has been overwhelmed, indecisive, and perilously accommodating of hardline actors.
From the outset, signs of ideological upheaval were unmistakable. Statues of Sheikh Mujib and 1971 war heroes-once sacred emblems of Bengali nationalism-were torn down in a wave of iconoclastic fury. Museums commemorating the liberation war were incinerated. Most shockingly, the historic home at 32 Dhanmondi-Mujib's residence and a near-religious symbol of the nation's founding ethos-was reduced to rubble, reportedly with the assistance of state machinery itself. These were not isolated incidents of mob vandalism. They represented a deliberate attempt to erase the secular nationalist identity of Bangladesh and replace it with a rigid, monolithic religious narrative.
Religious minorities have borne the brunt of this rollback. Hindus, Christians, and Buddhists-who comprise roughly 10 to 11 percent of the population-have witnessed their homes, temples, and villages razed to the ground, often with security forces standing by as passive observers. Factories owned by Ahmadi Muslims, long persecuted for their heterodox beliefs, have been targeted and destroyed. Sufi shrines-historically central to Bangladesh's pluralistic Islamic tradition-have been desecrated or shut down under pressure from orthodox Islamist groups.
Simultaneously, a calculated campaign has been unleashed against voices of dissent and progress. Hundreds of journalists, academics, and civil society figures, especially those with secular or liberal leanings, have been imprisoned. Prominent names like Shahriar Kabir, Abul Barkat, Mozammel Babu, Shyamal Dutta, Farzana Rupa, and Shakil Ahmed have either been jailed or forced into silence. The purge has extended to civil servants, university faculty, and even police officers suspected of ideological non-conformity or Awami League sympathies. Mass resignations, often coerced through public humiliation or assault, have become distressingly common.
The re-emergence of Jamaat-e-Islami, the Islamist party that opposed Bangladesh's independence in 1971 and collaborated with the Pakistan Army during the genocide, lies at the heart of this transformation. Once banned from contesting elections due to its war crimes record, Jamaat has seized the moment created by Hasina's departure to stage a dramatic return. Its cadres-augmented by Islamist mobs and loosely affiliated street gangs-now patrol many cities and towns, enforcing a new moral order through coercion and violence. This return is not spontaneous; it has been enabled, many allege, by parts of the interim administration and by security forces increasingly sympathetic to or infiltrated by religious hardliners.
Further emboldening Jamaat is its tactical alliance with Hefazat-e-Islam, a fundamentalist movement with roots in Qawmi madrasas, which Hasina herself once courted to marginalize Jamaat. In a cruel twist of history, Hefazat and Jamaat now march hand in hand toward their shared goal: the Islamisation of the Bangladeshi state and society. Adding to this volatile mix is the rise of the National Consolidation Party (NCP), widely seen as a political vehicle of convenience for Yunus and his technocratic allies. But in the eyes of many observers, the NCP is nothing more than a "B team" of the Jamaat-providing bureaucratic legitimacy to the latter's ideological project while acting as its street-level enforcer.
The NCP-Jamaat nexus has begun a reign of terror in various regions. Gopalganj district-long a bastion of the Awami League and home to Mujib's tomb-has become ground zero for violent confrontation. After mobs led by NCP leaders tried to desecrate the tomb, a blockade was enforced by the Navy, and the military, alongside NCP stormtroopers, launched a house-to-house raid. More than 4,000 individuals were arrested; hundreds remain missing. This operation was not a security measure-it was a message: resist, and you will disappear.
There is a method to the madness. The unchecked mob violence and ideological radicalization serve a political end: to manufacture a climate of fear and instability that justifies the indefinite postponement of national elections originally scheduled for late 2025. The longer the chaos persists, the more entrenched the Islamist presence becomes across state institutions. Reports indicate that sympathisers of Jamaat and its affiliates are occupying key posts in the Bangladesh Border Guard, civil police, the Ansar paramilitary force, and even sections of the army. The appointment of Nasimul Gani-a figure with a known Islamist background-as Home Secretary has deepened fears of institutional capture.
Parallel to the erosion of civil liberties is the attempt to rewrite the very essence of the Bangladeshi state. Proposed constitutional amendments under review aim to replace secularism-enshrined as a foundational pillar in 1972-with a framework based on Islamic principles. Islamist parties are lobbying for explicit recognition of "absolute trust and faith in Almighty Allah" in the national charter. Such changes would effectively nullify the vision of Mujib's pluralistic Bangladesh, replacing it with a majoritarian religious state.
Public life is also undergoing forced realignment. Women wearing Western clothing or smoking in public face harassment. Cultural festivals, long celebrated with secular enthusiasm, are being cancelled or subdued. Islamist rallies demanding the imposition of Sharia law, tougher blasphemy legislation, and censorship of "un-Islamic" expression now draw hundreds of thousands. The media landscape has been thoroughly reshaped: dissenting outlets face closure, and journalists are under constant surveillance or coercion. Universities, once citadels of secular nationalism, have witnessed the rise of Islamist student organisations occupying leadership positions.
In this darkening scenario, traditional political players are paralysed. The Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), which once vied with the Awami League for national leadership, remains fragmented and compromised. The Awami League, meanwhile, has been reduced to a target of vengeful repression. Its leaders languish in prison; many fear a repeat of the 1975 massacre that wiped out Mujib's inner circle. Rumours swirl of an imminent mass killing within Dhaka Central Jail, echoing that blood-soaked November nearly five decades ago.
This grim descent into ideological intolerance, authoritarianism, and historical revisionism stands in tragic contrast to the aspirations of the young protesters who lit the flame of change just a year ago. The student uprising of 2024 was supposed to usher in a renaissance of civic engagement and democratic reform. Instead, it has paved the way for a counter-revolution-a Kristallnacht moment-where the promise of freedom has been extinguished by the boot of religious extremism.
Bangladesh now stands at an inflection point. The choice is no longer between left or right, Awami League or BNP, reform or status quo. It is between pluralism and theocracy, between democracy and authoritarianism wrapped in the garb of religious piety. The international community, which once celebrated Bangladesh's remarkable economic rise and commitment to secular democracy, must now reckon with the unfolding regression. Silence, in the face of such systemic violence and ideological cleansing, will be remembered as complicity.
For the people of Bangladesh, especially its youth and minorities, the path forward is fraught with peril. Yet, in their resilience lies the last hope. As the storm clouds gather over the Padma, the battle for the soul of Bangladesh has only just begun. Whether it is reclaimed or surrendered will determine the destiny of South Asia's youngest and most hard-won democracy.