Originally published on Global Voices

Photo by Bastian Riccardi from Pexels. Used under a Pexels License.

For the past several months, a coordinated digital campaign has targeted community archivists in Bangladesh who document and preserve audiovisual material related to the July 2024 Student-People’s Mass Uprising, including its history, collective memory, and records of human rights violations.

These attacks systematically exploit weaknesses in Meta’s copyright enforcement mechanisms, with the primary objective of removing Facebook pages that host critical documentation of the movement. Despite repeated appeals to Meta by affected community archivists, the responses have been limited and largely ineffective.

We spoke with at least three young documentarians through messaging platforms and phone calls. They confirmed that their Facebook pages functioned as informal but highly significant digital archives of this historical moment. A substantial portion of this content is already being used as evidentiary material in proceedings at the Bangladesh International Crimes Tribunal addressing mass violence linked to the July 2024 uprising.

When copyright strikes are submitted using fake email identities and fabricated claims, Meta removes videos and images without adequate verification or due process. For many self-organized archivist communities, Facebook has served as their primary platform for public engagement and memory preservation. As a result of Meta’s failure to ensure adequate safeguards, critical documentation is being lost, directly affecting broader transitional justice processes.

A vital platform, with coordinated abuse

Saleh Mahmud Rayhan, a student involved in the July 2024 uprising, later co-founded the July Revolutionary Alliance (JRA) with a group of his contemporaries. In an interview conducted with Global Voices via Zoom, Rayhan stated that the organization’s mandate includes collecting, preserving, and disseminating videos documenting human rights violations, using Facebook as its primary platform to reach the public.

For many young, self-organized communities in Bangladesh — often operating without formal training, technical capacity, or institutional funding — Facebook has become the default infrastructure for documentation and outreach. As the most widely used platform among Bangladeshi internet users, it serves not only as a publishing tool but also as a space to amplify victims’ voices and share evidence.

In JRA’s case, these materials have contributed to broader accountability efforts, including ongoing proceedings at the International Crimes Tribunal examining allegations of crimes against humanity, including murder and enforced disappearance, linked to the July 2024 student-led protests.

On February 15, 2026, Meta suspended JRA’s main Facebook page, which had approximately 547,000 followers, citing multiple copyright violations. However, the materials shared on the page were user-generated and distributed for non-commercial, public-interest purposes. While JRA does not claim ownership of all content, closer scrutiny suggests that those submitting the copyright complaints were not the rightful owners either.

On 22 March, JRA’s backup page, “July Revolutionary Alliance, South Region,” was also suspended on similar grounds. Although the page was later restored after multiple appeals, it remains at risk due to ongoing false claims.

Facebook removed content based on a third-party copyright claim, submitted via “shakhawathossain1986@outlook.com” on behalf of “H M Murad,” concerning a viral photograph of a politician, despite the email address not belonging to him, which concerned a photograph that had also been publicly shared by the politician's party.

A similar pattern affected The Red July, another self-organized community archivist group formed by survivors of the July 2024 uprising that works to document violations and amplify affected voices. The group lost two of its Facebook pages under comparable circumstances.

Sajib Hossain, an administrator of The Red July, stated during a phone call and later provided supporting documentation via WhatsApp messages that the group’s two primary pages — one with approximately 300,000 followers and the other with 125,000, named “The Red July Production”—simultaneously received between eight and ten copyright strikes. As a result, the pages were suspended almost immediately, leaving administrators with insufficient time to respond or implement protective measures.

Meta removed a post by The Red July, a photo of Bhutan's PM in Bangladesh, due to a false copyright claim filed by Slang name id using the derogatory email “julycdi7890@gmail.com.”

Findings from the investigation indicate that these claims do not appear to constitute legitimate copyright disputes. Instead, individuals are seemingly creating fake email accounts and submitting third-party complaints. Meta appears to accept these claims without sufficient verification, resulting in the removal of content, including materials originally published by the communities themselves. Automated appeal mechanisms have so far provided limited effective remedies.

Meta’s failure to safeguard the affected pages

Both organizations report a consistent pattern of targeted harassment. They describe receiving explicit threats from cyber groups aligned with political actors connected to ongoing trials for crimes against humanity. These threats often demand the removal of posts related to political figures, including former Bangladesh Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina.

A Facebook page named “Network-71” publicly declared its intention to remove content from The Red July. Similarly, accounts using the names “Mahir Chowdhury” and “Nadim Chowdhury” issued public threats to take down posts related to the July 2024 uprising.

Shortly after such warnings, waves of false copyright claims are reportedly submitted from anonymous or unverified email accounts targeting the same content. In several cases, individuals publicly announce intended takedowns, issue threats, and later share screenshots celebrating successful removals. See here and here.

Network 71 publicly admitted to falsely reporting the post that led Facebook to remove activist Facebook groups.

These posts, often accompanied by celebratory or abusive language, suggest deliberate and coordinated misuse of platform reporting systems. Despite these clear indicators, including prior threats and synchronized reporting, Meta has not taken effective action to identify or prevent this pattern of abuse.

Saleh Mahmud Rayhan described how one account sent direct messages warning that specific posts had to be removed or the entire page would be taken down. Within two days, around seven posts were targeted with false claims. Meta accepted the claims, removed the posts, and subsequently suspended the page.

JRA representatives later contacted individuals whose names had been used in the complaints. Those individuals confirmed that they had not submitted any copyright claims, indicating that their identities may have been misused through fabricated email accounts. Rayhan emphasized that these removals resulted in the loss of critical visual evidence documenting human rights violations during the uprising.

This image, sourced from JRA, illustrates the progression of threats. Initially, there were private demands to remove a post critical of their party; when this was refused, they proceeded to submit a fraudulent copyright claim.

A recurring tactic of digital repression in Bangladesh

The use of copyright claims to suppress political opponents is not new in Bangladesh. Rather, it appears to have become a recurring method used to restrict critical voices online.

In 2022, independent news site Netra News reported that groups linked to the then-Awami League-led government were involved in hacking critics’ Facebook accounts. Around the same period, separate reporting documented how a hacker group took down Amar Desh Online, a media outlet critical of the government, through the use of false copyright claims.

Recent incidents suggest that similar tactics are now being used more broadly: not only against political opponents, but also against human rights groups, investigative journalists, and fact-checking initiatives.

One example involves The Dissent, a Bangladesh-based investigative and fact-checking platform that has been targeted by fake copyright claims. The publication’s editor, Qadaruddin Shishir, stated in an interview that several of their reports, including fact-checks of AI-generated images, were removed from Facebook after being flagged for alleged copyright violations. Despite the content being originally produced by their own reporters, Shishir noted that these complaints originated from unverifiable email addresses but were nonetheless accepted by Meta Platforms, Inc. without meaningful scrutiny.

These fraudulent tactics have affected a broad spectrum of voices, with activists and journalists among the primary targets. The reach of these claims has extended to the former interim government’s official advisory pages, the social media accounts of the Head of Government, and memorial tributes to slain activist Osman Hadi. The system’s lack of scrutiny was further highlighted when original materials, including a journalist’s own photography, were erroneously flagged as infringing and removed from the platform.

In several cases, coordinated groups have openly claimed responsibility for these takedowns. Groups identifying themselves as “Crack Platoon, Bangladesh Cyber Force,” “Dark Cyber Gang,” and “Qawmi Cyber Expert Team” have publicly stated that they use copyright reporting tools to remove pages and accounts, and have shared evidence of these actions online.

Platform failure and an accountability gap

These incidents point to significant weaknesses in Meta’s copyright enforcement processes. The lack of effective verification appears to allow coordinated actors to misuse reporting systems to target activists, archivists, and journalists.

This issue extends beyond routine content moderation concerns. The removal of such content affects the ability to document events, share information, and preserve records that may be relevant to accountability processes.

Without stronger safeguards — including improved verification, greater transparency in decision-making, and accessible appeal mechanisms — these practices are likely to continue, with broader implications for digital rights and public-interest documentation in Bangladesh.

Originally published on Global Voices

Motorists queue at a Dhaka fuel station on March 9, 2026, during government-imposed rationing that left delivery riders and commuters waiting hours to purchase limited fuel supplies. Photo by Zulker Naeen. Used with permission.

Rashid Ahmed waited two hours at a fuel station in Dhaka’s Mirpur district on March 10, watching the line of motorcycles stretch into the next block as the pump operator turned away customer after customer. The forty-two-year-old delivery rider had visited three stations since dawn, each time finding either empty tanks or queues too long to wait through before his first delivery deadline. His motorcycle sat idle while his family’s income evaporated with each passing hour.

Ahmed’s frustration mirrors the experience of hundreds of thousands across Bangladesh as government-imposed rationing collides with daily survival. The rationing emerged from a crisis that began thousands of kilometers away in the Persian Gulf.

During mid March, the government withdrew the temporary rationing system for fuel sales; however, shortages, long queues, and irregularities at most filling stations made it difficult for vehicles to obtain fuel.

As tensions between Iran, Israel, and the United States escalated into open warfare, Bangladesh found itself plunged into an energy emergency despite the geographic distance. The country of 175 million people imports roughly 95 percent of its energy, making it almost entirely dependent on global fuel markets.

When the Strait of Hormuz became a battleground, the world’s oil supplies dipped, as the narrow waterway is the gateway for nearly a third of the world’s seaborne oil. Bangladesh felt the squeeze immediately.

A map of the Strait of Hormuz. Image via Wikipedia by Goran_tek-en. CC BY-SA 4.0.

The cascade begins: Supply lines cut

The crisis hit with devastating speed in early March.

QatarEnergy, one of Bangladesh’s three long-term liquified natural gas (LNG) suppliers, suspended deliveries, invoking force majeure, after Iranian attacks on energy infrastructure disrupted production. Qatar accounts for 20 percent of global LNG supply. Within days, the other two suppliers followed suit, cutting off Bangladesh from all contracted deliveries.

Bangladesh had been purchasing spot LNG cargoes at approximately ten dollars per million British thermal units in January. By mid-March, those prices had skyrocketed to USD 28.28 per MMBtu (million metric British thermal units) for emergency purchases.

“We are buying spot LNG at an exorbitant price, which is almost 2.5 times higher than the price of four days ago,” Energy Secretary Saiful Islam told reporters.

This price explosion created a vicious cycle. When Petrobangla floated an initial tender for spot LNG on March 1, it received zero bids. Traders considered Bangladesh’s market too volatile and risky. Only after offering even higher prices did the country secure cargo from Gunvor at USD 28.28 MMBtu and Vitol at USD 23.08 per MMBtu.

“We are now looking for alternatives from the spot market to fill the window left vacant by the three suppliers,” Petrobangla Chairman Md Arfanul Hoque acknowledged.

Bangladesh was scheduled to receive 115 LNG cargoes in 2026. Officials projected losing forty of them due to disruptions in Western Asia.

Who gets the gas?

Power generation and household consumption took precedence over industrial uses. This meant four of five state-run urea fertilizer factories had to shut down for at least fifteen days. Only the Shahjalal Fertilizer Company continued operating, along with one private facility.

Bangladesh was in the middle of the Boro season, when rice paddies require consistent irrigation and fertilization. Government officials insisted there was no immediate crisis due to existing stocks. Farmers and agricultural experts worried about medium-term shortages.

Meanwhile, gas supply to the power sector dropped from 870 million cubic feet per day (mmcfd) to 820 mmcfd. Officials warned this reduction would likely increase power load-shedding across the country and could lead to blackouts.

“Until the supply side is fixed, I have to use what I have in my hand in a prudent manner,” Power and Energy Minister Iqbal Hassan Mahmood Tuku told reporters. “We must use what we have sparingly. If people cooperate, it will be possible to overcome this crisis.”

Universities closed, fuel rationed

On March 8, authorities announced that all universities would close early, advancing Eid holidays to reduce electricity consumption.

University campuses consume large amounts of power for dormitories, classrooms, laboratories, and air conditioning. Shutting them down offered immediate relief to the strained power grid. Students faced uncertainty about when normal operations would resume.

“We are doing everything we can to reduce consumption and ensure stability in power, fuel, and import supplies,” a senior official from the Ministry of Power, Energy, and Mineral Resources explained.

Simultaneously, the government ordered petrol pumps to reduce daily sales by 10 percent to preserve national fuel reserves. This rationing triggered panic across major cities. Long queues formed at fuel stations as motorists rushed to fill their tanks.

Drivers reported waiting hours to purchase fuel. Some stations ran dry by midday.

The industrial toll

The ready-made garment industry accounts for 84 percent of Bangladesh’s exports and employs millions of workers.

When power cuts doubled to as much as five hours per day, factories faced impossible choices. Industry leaders described a nightmare scenario unfolding since the conflict began in late February. Running diesel generators during extended outages dramatically increased operating costs.

In recent months, many textile and garment factories operated at only 40–50 percent capacity. These production losses threatened export orders.

By early March, diesel reserves had fallen to just nine days of supply, measured at 115,473 tons as of March 4.

The government scrambled to secure emergency shipments. Bangladesh received 5,000 metric tons through a cross-border pipeline from India’s Numaligarh Refinery. Officials were negotiating for an additional 30,000 metric tons from the Indian Oil Corporation.

Household struggles

For ordinary Bangladeshi families, the energy crisis manifested most painfully in rising cooking fuel costs.

The price of a 12.5 kg liquefied petrolium gas (LPG) cylinder, which most households use to operate stoves and burners, surged from Bangladeshi Taka (BDT) 900 to 1,500 (USD 7.3 to 12.2), adding between BTD 500–800 (USD 4–6.5) to monthly household expenses. The minimum wage in Bangladesh is BDT 12,500 per month (approximately USD 101). For low-income families already struggling with inflation, this increase forced painful adjustments. Some families began undercooking meals to conserve gas. Others reverted to traditional fuels like wood and dung.

“The Middle East war has made LPG imports very difficult,” Abdur Razzaq, Managing Director of JMI Group, explained. “Freight costs are rising, shipping routes are uncertain, and traders are becoming cautious.”

Transportation costs for LPG jumped to USD 275 per ton, compared to the Bangladesh Energy Regulatory Commission’s calculation of USD 120 per ton.

“There was no risk of a shortage until March, considering the LPG already imported by the private sector,” Mostafa Kamal, Chairman of Meghna Group of Industries, stated. “Our concern began in April.”

His company was attempting to source LPG from Vietnam, Taiwan, Malaysia, and China as alternatives to Middle Eastern suppliers.

A fiscal time bomb: The cost of crisis

Analysts estimated that spot LNG purchases between 2022 and 2024 could cost USD 11 billion. This enormous outlay strained foreign exchange reserves and forced difficult trade-offs across government budgets.

“If the disruption drags on, we’ll have to lean more on costly spot LNG, which will add to our import burden and tighten supplies for power and industry,” an energy ministry official told Reuters, speaking anonymously.

Each month of elevated prices deepens Bangladesh’s vulnerability.

Petrobangla requested additional subsidies from the government to cover the gap between international prices and domestic retail rates. The government’s own fiscal position remained tight, with limited room for increased energy subsidies.

“There is no fuel shortage at this moment. In fact, we have increased fuel supply compared to last year,” Minister Tuku assured recently. However, in early March, he addressed the issue: “If consumption is controlled, we will be able to run March properly. If committed supplies arrive, the pressure will ease.”

Domestic fuel prices remained unchanged for the third consecutive month by absorbing rising import costs through heavy subsidies.

BDT 5,000 crore (50 billion, about USD 407.4 million) was spent on subsidies in March alone, adding to the strain on the budget and further widening the gap with international market prices.

Diesel is being sold under subsidy at BDT 100 (USD 0.82) per liter, while prices of octane remain at BDT 120 (USD 0.98) per litre, while the market price remains at BDT 180 (USD 1.61) and BDT 150.72 (USD 1.22) respectively.

Originally published on Global Voices

Image remix by Abhimanyu Bandyopadhyay. Used with permission.

Bangladesh’s political landscape has drastically changed since the student-led July 2024 rebellion. Thousands of then-ruling Awami League leaders and members have fled the nation since Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s removal on August 5, 2024. While Hasina and a number of other high-ranking officials sought political asylum in India, others relocated primarily to the UK and US.

The real challenge for the Awami League (AL) came in May 2025, when Muhammad Yunus-led interim government of Bangladesh banned the party altogether under the Anti-Terrorism Act. Nevertheless, AL has been carrying out its political activities from exile since its ousting, primarily through webinars, while maintaining visibility in Indian media through public remarks and interviews.

One of the most prominent figures among them is former Home Minister Asaduzzaman Khan Kamal, who departed Bangladesh on the same day as Hasina and is currently living in Kolkata, India, at an undisclosed location. On November 17, 2025, the International Crimes Tribunal of Bangladesh (ICT) sentenced Kamal to death for crimes against humanity linked to the July uprising. The tribunal found him liable alongside former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, citing a systematic “failure to prevent” atrocities and an active role in abetting the violence that defined those weeks. The three-member panel, headed by Justice Golam Mortuza Mozumder, delivered the verdict after finding them guilty on multiple charges and also ordered the state to confiscate all properties owned by Sheikh Hasina and Asaduzzaman Khan Kamal and compensate the families of those injured and killed during the July uprising.

After spending nearly nineteen months underground, Kamal has finally decided to speak out. In an in-person interview with Abhimanyu Bandyopadhyay at his private residence, Kamal discusses the legitimacy of the recent parliamentary elections, the possibility of a political dialogue with the ruling Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), the legal issues that the Awami League leadership is facing, their current stay in India, allegations of state-led violence, and the administration’s role during the July-August protests.

Here are some excerpts from the interview:

Abhimanyu Bandyopadhyay (AB): The BNP has recently formed a new government after winning the 13th National Parliamentary Elections. Many local and international observers rated this election to be fair. What do you think about the election results?

Asaduzzaman Khan Kamal (AKK): It was a total sham. As per our ground reports, in many places, ballot boxes were being stuffed the night before voting even started. BNP and the Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami party had received voting slips in advance to manipulate the outcome. How else do you explain Jamaat-e-Islami, a party that on average gets no more than a dozen seats, leaping to 68? The National Citizens Party (NCP) barely had enough public support to win anything, yet even some of their members got “elected” thanks to this fraud. All of this was to make sure Dr. [Muhammad] Yunus ended up as President, no matter the cost.

The Interim government knew very well that if [The Amani League] got to participate in the elections, we would again secure a landslide victory. Take a look at the Directorate General of Forces Intelligence (DGFI)’s pre-election survey report. It clearly says that 51 percent of the Bangladeshis still favor the Awami League. [Editor’s note: This claim lacks credibility, as no public record exists of such a survey by DGFI.]

That’s the only reason they didn’t let us take part. Otherwise, there is not a single instance in which the Awami League has refused to participate in an election. For now, all I can say is that we will keep an eye on every move made by this new administration.

AB: What do you expect from the current administration, particularly since they refuse to lift the ban on the Awami League?

AKK: It is a deeply regressive stance for any administration claiming to be democratic. This very political party once tried to assassinate Sheikh Hasina in the brutal grenade attack of August 21, 2004. Twenty-four of our leaders, including Ivy Rahman, were killed in that blast. Those wounds haven’t healed yet.

Yet, despite enduring such violence, we never banned the BNP’s political activities. We gave them a political space, which they are now denying us. What did the BNP–Jamaat alliance era bring to Bangladesh except open support for extremism? In 2005, right under their noses, militants carried out a series of bomb blasts across 63 districts. Now, the same political mindset talks about governance while continuing to exclude others? This is absurd.

We expect this government to look at its own history, rethink its choices, and reopen the political space for us. At this point, their biggest task is to stabilize the country. Bangladesh’s law and order have totally collapsed under the interim administration. Citizens no longer feel safe, and the economy is shaky. If they truly wish to govern, they should end the persecution and focus on protecting people and their livelihoods.

AB: Is your party willing to engage in direct talks with the BNP leadership about reconciliation?

AKK: We have always believed that dialogue is the only viable path forward for any democracy. We did not come to power through the barrel of a gun, nor do we seek to hold on to it by any undemocratic means. So, yes, we are definitely willing to engage in talks with them.

But such discussions need a genuinely democratic environment. If the BNP leadership insists on keeping us at arm’s length, honestly, there’s not much more we can do.

AB: The BNP leadership recently stated that proceedings against the Awami League members will continue legally. Are you and your party leaders ready to go to Bangladesh and face these charges in court?

AKK: Our Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina has always said that she wishes to return and fight these battles through legal means. She has always led from inside Bangladesh, sticking to the rule of law no matter how tough things get. Look at the trial for the assassination of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. If she had chosen to, she could have easily set up a fast-track, special tribunal, but she insisted on proceeding under the country’s existing legal framework. The Awami League doesn’t walk away from the battlefield.

It’s hard not to notice what’s happening to our courts right now. The International Crimes Tribunal (ICT) Bangladesh was originally established by Bangabandhu (Sheikh Mujibur Rahman) to bring the war criminals of the 1971 Bangladesh genocide to justice. Under the Yunus administration, this court has been fundamentally misused. Through a series of arbitrary legal amendments, people who died in entirely different circumstances are being brought under its jurisdiction and described as martyrs. The court itself is illegitimate. There was no war, no genocide here. So how can these cases be framed as war crimes? That said, we remain fully prepared to engage in any legal process. But for that to happen, the judicial system needs reform to restore its independence and neutrality.

AB: You have been sentenced to death by the ICT. Since you said that this court is illegitimate, do you have any plans to send a legal representative to challenge the validity of your conviction and the jurisdiction of this tribunal?

AKK: The structure of this tribunal leaves no room for representation. Unless one appears in person, there is effectively no way to contest proceedings. Once arrested under this system, you will not be able to get out on bail. It is a closed loop designed for a specific outcome. So, we urge the current government to uphold the law and dismantle this kangaroo court. We want the Awami League to be able to return to Bangladesh in a legal way.

AB: You said no genocide happened during the July Revolution. Are you rejecting the allegations of genocide entirely?

AKK: Of course I am. This narrative is entirely a part of that meticulously designed plan orchestrated by Muhammad Yunus and his cronies. Under Bangladeshi law, any incident in which a police officer uses lethal force is subject to a judicial inquiry led by a magistrate. This investigation figures out why the officer took lethal action and what was happening at the time.

When we were in charge, we set up a judicial inquiry commission to investigate all reported killings. This included deaths caused by police, the killing of police personnel, and the deaths of civilians and political activists, irrespective of party affiliation. No individual was granted indemnity. The interim government has done none of this. Instead, they immediately issued an ordinance granting impunity to anyone for the killing of all police officers and all Awami League activists.

AB: The UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights has reported that nearly 1,400 people were killed during the 2024 uprising. How can you dismiss a figure documented by an international body of that stature?

The OHCHR reports show there were around 1,400 protest-related deaths during the July 2024 uprising. Fair use.

AKK: You have to look at where these numbers are coming from. Our own findings indicate that approximately 260 people were killed during the uprising in Bangladesh, including police officers, civilians, protesters, and even Awami League activists. Later on, the Health Department under the interim government had said that nearly 600 people were killed during the uprising. Soon, they changed that number to 800 (approximately).

The figure of 1,400 appears to originate from an individual assessment rather than a formally mandated UN inquiry. Under established procedures, any fact-finding report must be authorized by the Human Rights Council and accompanied by an approved budget. This report had neither. It carries no official UN document number. I think the United Nations should look into this matter much more deeply and make a neutral report that includes a proper list of all the people who died during the protests.

AB: You were the home minister during the July protests. Are you taking responsibility for what your government did?

AKK: We are deeply saddened for the people who died during the protests. It is possible that mistakes were made on our side; it is also possible that mistakes were made on theirs, too. That is something open to discussion. If it is proven that we made mistakes, we will definitely take responsibility. But we must also be given the space to present the facts from our side. By mid-July, when the protest shifted from the quota movement to a one-point demand, the level of violence unleashed was beyond explanation.

On August 3, a police officer informed me that the protesters were using weapons that our police had never seen before. Many of the guns were not licensed. In such a moment, if the police shoot back to protect themselves, should that be viewed as an offensive act or an act of self-defense?

I clearly remember toward the end of July, the prime minister personally met family members of those who had died in the protests, expressed her sorrow, and offered financial support. We had said there would be an investigation through legal channels into the killings, but we were not given the opportunity to carry that process through.

AB: You are making a very serious charge, Mr. Khan. Are you claiming that thousands of ordinary students and the general public who took to the streets during July were all carrying prohibited, high-caliber weapons?

Several videos showed Awami League activists carrying lethal firearms during the July-August protests. Screenshots from videos widely circulated on social media. Fair use.

AKK: I did not refer to the ordinary students or the general public. What I meant to say was that among a section of the protesters, there were militants involved.

See, we understand that many of the young people who came out in July genuinely sought reform. They have been tragically exploited for specific political interests. To expand the list in the so-called July martyrs’ gazette, the interim administration even included the names of those miscreants who were killed in police firing while attacking our officers, looting police stations, outposts, and armories, and setting them ablaze. The list also includes those killed in security force firing while attempting to escape from prison or during attacks on prisons. The list also includes those who died in fires they started while looting and burning homes and businesses of Awami League leaders and activists.

AB: During the protests, several unarmed civilians were killed by sniper fire, with shots reportedly aimed at the forehead. Did your administration allow the use of snipers?

AKK: Our police have around fifty sniper rifles, all of which came from the United States for counterterrorism operations. They were locked up during the protests and stayed locked even on the day we departed. The army has a few sniper rifles as well, but those were not in use at that time either. Brigadier Sakhawat Hossain has confirmed that theirs too remained locked. We simply do not know where the sniper rifles came from and who these marksmen were, but their presence indicates outsider involvement with an intent to foment violence and create instability across Bangladesh.

AB: So no shots were fired at protesters from helicopters?

AKK: Our helicopters are too small to carry out targeted firing; at most, random fire would be possible. During the protests, sound grenades were dropped from helicopters to create loud blasts and clear the ground below.

AB: But according to leaked audio verified by the BBC, Sheikh Hasina had ordered the use of lethal force against the protesters.

AKK: That is an incomplete reading of the situation. The prime minister’s instruction was directed at armed militants, not at unarmed civilians or peaceful demonstrators. In Bangladesh, the police follow a set of rules when dealing with protests. First, they give warnings. Then move to physical restraint if necessary. If that fails, they may use tear gas and rubber bullets. Live ammunition is considered only in extreme circumstances, when there is serious destruction of public property, loss of life, or direct attacks on law enforcement. In such an extreme situation, even a regular constable has the legal standing to defend his life if no one is in charge. During our time in government, the police were granted operational authority, but they were also kept under strict supervision. Our police would not have dared to fire on anybody without a good reason.

The International Crimes Tribunal-2 on Monday began hearing charges of crimes against humanity against former…

Read more- https://t.co/Yp8jirbQUQ pic.twitter.com/Yvo2shE59t

— New Age (@NewAgeBDcom) July 29, 2025

AB: What would you say about the death of Abu Sayeed? Footage shows that he was an unarmed protester holding a stick; however, the police shot him several times. Were they ordered to forget those “rules” at that time? 

AKK: [Hesitates] Thank you, next question, please.

AB: How long do you plan to stay in India? Have you thought about leaving for another country?

AKK: We are deeply grateful to the Indian government for the way it has welcomed us and offered us shelter. No other country could have offered us a safer refuge than India.

AB: BNP’s General Secretary Mirza Fakhrul said that Sheikh Hasina won’t be a problem for India-Bangladesh relations. If ties deepen in the future between the BNP-led government and New Delhi, could that create difficulties for members of the Awami League currently taking refuge in India?

AKK: I think this is something we can only wait and see about. We cannot say for sure what will happen. But one thing is certain: India is our friend, and they have always helped the Awami League. I think they will keep supporting us no matter what happens.

AB: You have alleged many times that your removal from power was a conspiracy orchestrated by the American deep state. But the Indian government maintains very close relations with the United States and is often seen as aligned with it. Does that put you in a potentially difficult position?

AKK: I do not want to comment on what the Indian government does. What I can say is that India has been a friend to us. In moments of crisis, they have stood by us and have assured us of their continued support. That is all that matters to us.

Youth from colleges and universities led the July revolution protests in Dhaka. Image via Pexels by Mojahid Mottakin. Used under a Pexels License.

AB: As Bangladesh’s largest political party, how do you believe the Awami League can re-enter the country’s political landscape?

AKK: At this moment in Bangladesh, even mentioning the Awami League can lead to imprisonment. We have seen a Deputy Inspector General (DIG) in Rajshahi publicly issue a letter stating that any of our members who manage to get bail would be arrested again under new charges. It is hard to imagine such a statement being made without instructions from higher authorities.

We were fortunate to escape with our lives, but for those who have been detained, the conditions are unthinkable. Around 120 of our MPs are currently in prison. Information reaching me suggests that, across the country, a large proportion of detainees are Awami League activists and supporters. We are getting reports of physical assaults in custody and of prisoners being denied proper medical treatment. So, without changes to the judiciary, it will be difficult for us to return. Even in the Liberation War [1971], we didn’t see this much inhuman treatment of us. If this continues, the people of Bangladesh will not remain silent. I believe it is ultimately our grassroots workers and supporters who will bring the party back to the country.

AB: If you were to return to Bangladesh and eventually assume power again, what approach would you take toward the leaders of the July uprising?

AKK: First, we want to express our sincere regret for those killed or injured during the July protests. Any future government led by us would initiate a thorough and independent investigation into why these events unfolded the way they did, who orchestrated them, what their intentions were, and what forces were at play.

At the same time, we are prepared to examine our own errors. We need to understand whether any misjudgments on our part contributed to the unrest, and who may have been responsible for misleading the public during that period. All of this will be done transparently, through democratic and accountable processes. People deserve to know the truth.

Originally published on Global Voices

A roadside campaign stall covered with large candidate banners, party iconography (a rice-stalk motif), and rows of photocopied flyers. Used as a representative image illustrating how printed and synthetic visuals populate the civic landscape in the lead-up to the 2026 Bangladesh general election. Photo by the author. Used with permission.

This post is part of Global Voices’ April 2026 Spotlight series, “Human perspectives on AI.” This series will offer insight into how AI is being used in global majority countries, how its use and implementation are affecting individual communities, what this AI experiment might mean for future generations, and more. You can support this coverage by donating here.

A photograph began circulating across Bangladeshi social media on December 14, 2025, that would majorly influence the national election on February 12 — the first election since the July 2024 student-mass uprising toppled former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s government. The high-stakes vote was considered a penultimate test of whether Bangladesh could rebuild and realize its hopes for a free and fair democracy following the uprising.

The image showed Shadik Kayem, 27th Vice-President of Dhaka University Central Students’ Union, sitting across a small table from another man, apparently sharing tea in what looked like a casual meeting between acquaintances. The timing made the photograph explosive: just three days earlier, Osman Hadi, the coordinator of Inqilab Moncho (Revolution Platform), a cultural organization formed by people associated with the July 2024 student-mass uprising, had been shot in Dhaka, triggering immediate political controversy about who orchestrated the attack.

The man sitting with Kayem in the photograph was allegedly Hadi’s shooter.

However, all was not as it appeared. The fact-checking organization FactWatch determined that this photograph was fake and had been generated using artificial intelligence (AI).

Welcome to Bangladesh’s first AI-saturated election, where seeing was no longer believing.

The scale of synthetic reality

Between December 2025 and February 2026, as Bangladesh prepared for its national elections on February 12, a study identified 72 cases in which AI-manipulated content, specifically designed to manufacture false narratives and shape electoral outcomes, gained significant momentum online. This study reviewed fact-checks on AI-generated content targeting political parties, political figures, and the electoral process to understand how these false narratives were being leveraged.

Infographic by the author. Used with permission.

Nearly half of all AI-generated content involved claims of false activities and statements. Forty-nine percent of AI manipulations created entirely fictional realities about what political leaders were doing, saying, or experiencing during the campaign.

Twenty-eight percent of cases deployed AI to create false statement attributions — putting specific words into the mouths of political figures through AI-edited photocards mimicking trustworthy media outlets.

The dominant AI tactic involved generating synthetic images of political figures in false contexts. AI-generated photographs showed newly elected Prime Minister Tarique Rahman digging in a field with a spade alongside a constituent during supposed campaign activities. Synthetic images showed him shaking hands with children at events he never attended. Each manipulation created false impressions about his campaign, his priorities, and his public persona.

AI-generated images and videos also circulated showing his mother, Khaleda Zia (the former Prime Minister of Bangladesh from 1991 to 1996 and 2001 to 2006) walking, claiming the seventy-six-year-old BNP chairperson was moving freely despite known serious health conditions. Additional AI content about Khaleda Zia addressed strategic questions about her political capability, potentially affecting BNP’s electoral prospects.

Meanwhile, despite being banned from participating in the election, the previous ruling party, Awami League, remained a target for AI manipulation. Deepfake videos showed former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina making statements from her exile in India that she never actually made. Additional AI video manipulations attempted to create impressions that she maintained governmental authority despite her exile, serving narratives that the election lacked legitimacy without Awami League participation.

Perhaps most audacious, an AI-generated video appeared showing former Malaysian Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad endorsing Hasina as Bangladesh’s legitimate leader. The deepfake leveraged international authority to support the Awami League’s exile position. Mahathir never made such statements. The video was entirely synthetic.

Falsified photocards

Political actors exploited this fragmented media landscape by creating or editing photocards (graphic news cards) that appeared to originate from established outlets like Somoy TV, Channel i, Jugantor, or Kaler Kantho.

False quotes attributed to the Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami party candidate Syed Abdullah Muhammad Taher appeared in fabricated Somoy TV photocards. Channel i photocards surfaced with similarly altered quotes from the same Jamaat leader.

When voters saw inflammatory quotes appearing across several trusted media brands, the multi-source validation made the fabricated quotes more credible than isolated false claims.

Edited photocards supposedly from the news site Barta Bazar about the Jamaat in Mirpur propagated hyper-specific, false narratives targeting particular constituencies.

Fact checkers encountered twenty separate cases involving AI-edited fake quotes. When photocards showed National Citizen Party chairperson Nahid Islam making incendiary comments, the manipulation used media brand logos to add credibility to the fabrications.

Additional modified photocards targeting political personalities demonstrated the systematic nature of this strategy across several parties and candidates.

The Osman Hadi falsehood

Three days after Inqilab Mancha coordinator Osman Hadi was shot on December 11, political actors began weaponizing his tragedy. AI-generated images claimed to show Hadi opening his eyes in his hospital bed, manipulating the public’s desperate hope for his recovery. The fabricated photographs spread rapidly across social media, each share intensifying a manufactured moment that his family and doctors could only contradict with denials — denials that were never as compelling as emotional, visual “proof.”

The incident didn’t die down. As February’s election neared, altered photocards using Barta Bazar’s name emerged, falsely claiming that the Jamaat-e-Islami party had sponsored the attack. Opponents fabricated evidence of Jamaat’s involvement, potentially swaying uncertain voters. This exploitation continued months after the shooting.

A rise in conspiracy theories

Conspiracy theories that once circulated as whispered speculation gained sudden credibility when an onslaught of AI-manufactured proof emerged to support them. An image appeared, claiming to document a secret meeting in Delhi between Bangladeshi activist Pinaki Bhattacharya, Indian National Security Advisor Ajit Doval, and politician Krishna Nandi. The synthetic image transformed unproven theories about foreign interference into apparent visual documentation. No such meeting happened. The image was entirely artificial.

Meanwhile, AI-generated images claimed to show Awami League protest marches in Bhola, suggesting the banned party could still gather supporters despite legal prohibitions. Fabricated images of Jamaat assemblies served dual purposes — either demonstrating overwhelming popular support or raising alarms about dangerous Islamist mobilization, depending on which narrative benefited the circulator. Additional synthetic images depicting massive political support and gatherings were released to reinforce these narratives.

The war between parties

Examining who attacked whom reveals the election’s underlying dynamics. The Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) absorbed the heaviest assault, with forty-seven cases targeting the party that would ultimately secure a landslide victory. Opponents clearly identified BNP as the threat requiring maximum firepower.

Jamaat-e-Islami confronted thirteen separate AI attacks. Edited photocards spread fabricated quotes from Jamaat figures, often questioning the party’s Islamic credentials or exploiting religious themes. When hackers compromised a Jamaat leader’s account and attributed false comments to him, the attack merged traditional cybersecurity breaches with AI-amplified distribution.

The Awami League persisted relevant enough from exile to warrant six counter-campaigns. Deepfake videos featuring Sheikh Hasina and fabricated photocards sought to challenge whatever legitimacy claims the banned party maintained.

The National Citizen Party’s youth leadership was targeted through multiple edited photocards that falsely attributed statements to convener Nahid Islam. Opponents sought to influence younger voters who’d participated in the July Uprising by releasing heavily edited images with inflammatory language, attributing them to Nahid Islam, attempting to alienate the very constituency that elevated NCP into relevance.

Another AI-generated video circulated, claiming to show police releasing election survey results, fabricating official statements about electoral prospects. The manipulation attempted to shape voter expectations. Edited photocards showed fabricated interactions between political figures, creating entirely fictional political relationships designed to confuse voters about actual coalition dynamics. AI-generated videos even purported to show Tarique Rahman asking for money during campaigning, suggesting vote-buying or financial corruption. The volume alone overwhelmed fact-checking capacity.

Blueprint for regional democracy

What happened in Bangladesh’s 2026 election represents something categorically different, wherein AI overhauled the political battlefield.

Bangladesh’s experience provides the first comprehensive documentation of AI weaponization in South Asian electoral democracy. India faces elections regularly. Pakistan’s political landscape remains volatile. Nepal and Sri Lanka conduct their own democratic processes. All now face the prospect of similar AI-driven misinformation campaigns.

The patterns documented here: temporal escalation toward election day, deployment of synthetic images and edited photocards, exploitation of sensitive political events, all represent tactical knowledge that political operatives throughout the region are certainly studying.

Originally published on Global Voices

A camp for Rohingya refugees in Cox's Bazar, Bangladesh. Image via Flickr by Mohammad Tauheed. CC BY NC 2.0.

The article was first published in Peace News. An edited version is published below with permission.

The arrival of more than 1 million Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh since 2017 has transformed the social and economic landscape of Cox’s Bazar district. International attention has largely focused on the urgent humanitarian needs of displaced populations living in a few dozen camps. Yet the experience of the surrounding host communities, who share land, resources, and economic spaces with refugees, reveals a need for international organizations to engage more deeply with host and refugee communities in Cox’s Bazar.

In places such as Teknaf, a municipality in Cox’s Bazar district in south-eastern Bangladesh, local residents say the pressure on livelihoods and social relations has grown steadily in recent years. UNDP Bangladesh Reports stated that rising living costs, shrinking day labor opportunities, and rumors about unequal aid distribution have contributed to tensions between refugees and host communities.

Abdur Rahim, who helps coordinate a small network of community volunteers in Teknaf, recalls how these concerns began to intensify during the early years of the Rohingya influx. The in-depth interview was conducted by the author in December 2025.

“Rumors spread quickly that refugees were receiving large amounts of assistance while local people were being left behind,” Rahim explained. “At the same time, prices for basic goods went up, and work opportunities became fewer.”

Recognizing the growing tensions, Rahim and other volunteers began organizing informal discussions in December 2025 between representatives from refugee and host communities as part of a locally organized voluntary initiative. The meetings, which continue to this day, were not always easy.

“At first, the conversations were tense, sometimes confrontational,” he said. “But gradually people began to understand each other’s situation.”

Over time, these dialogues helped produce practical compromises, informal arrangements about market access, more open communication between communities, and local channels for resolving disputes before they escalated. “Peace is not constructed in workshops,” Rahim said. “It develops through relationships.”

Initiatives like these often rely on the support of international aid programs. Donors and development agencies provide funding for youth initiatives, mediation training, civic education programs, and early warning systems designed to identify emerging conflicts. For example, a peacebuilding program implemented by UNICEF and funded by the European Union supported more than 20,500 adolescents and youth from the Rohingya and host communities in Cox’s Bazar through training, dialogue activities, and the establishment of youth social hubs.

In addition, youth resilience and social cohesion programs implemented by Save the Children in Cox’s Bazar have included structured youth engagement, training, and community-level interventions designed to strengthen resilience among both refugee and host communities.

Without such external support, many local organizations would struggle to sustain their activities.

International agencies also bring technical expertise and organizational resources that grassroots groups cannot always mobilize independently. Yet studies on humanitarian governance note that structural imbalances often limit the influence of local actors in decision-making processes.

Project frameworks are frequently designed in distant headquarters before meaningful consultation takes place with the communities where programs will be implemented, a challenge highlighted in several studies examining humanitarian governance and local participation.

International organizations typically must submit detailed proposals to donors months in advance, including measurable outcomes and strict implementation schedules, reflecting funding structures that emphasize predefined indicators and timelines.

In one union of Teknaf Upazila, tensions initially described by residents as religious disagreements were later linked to competition over market access and employment opportunities between host community vendors and refugee traders. In another locality in Cox’s Bazar district, concerns about youth radicalization were later found to be linked primarily to unemployment and limited access to vocational training and decision-making forums, issues widely documented in youth development assessments in the region.

“When the conflict analysis is too shallow, the solutions also remain superficial,” said a community organizer in Teknaf who requested anonymity due to the sensitive nature of mediation work.

Local organizations often find themselves navigating a difficult balancing act between two forms of accountability. Studies on humanitarian accountability note that local organizations must respond to both donor reporting requirements and community expectations for meaningful outcomes.

A breakthrough may appear in subtle ways: A softened tone between rival community leaders, a shared meal after years of mistrust, or the quiet reopening of communication between neighbors. Similar outcomes have been documented in community dialogue initiatives implemented in Cox’s Bazar, where local mediation efforts contributed to improved communication between host and refugee communities.

“These are small shifts, but they are extremely important,” said Rahima Akter, a youth facilitator in Cox’s Bazar, during an in-person interview conducted in December 2025. “Unfortunately, they are difficult to capture in project reports.”

Short funding cycles further complicate the work. Many peacebuilding initiatives operate on grants lasting two or three years, while trust-building processes often require much longer. “Trust in communities takes time,” the facilitator Jaber Ali said. “Sometimes, just when relationships begin to improve, the project funding ends.”

When funding concludes, carefully cultivated networks can weaken. Trained mediators may lose the support structures that enabled them to intervene during earlier disputes, even as underlying tensions remain unresolved.

The presence of International agencies in a Rohingya Refugee Camp in Ukhia, Cox's Bazar, Bangladesh. Image via Wikipedia by Captain Raju. CC BY-SA 4.0.

International agencies mobilized life-saving assistance rapidly following the Rohingya crisis, delivering shelter, food, and medical services to more than 900,000 Rohingya refugees in Cox’s Bazar.

As a result, concerns about rising living costs, pressure on local infrastructure, and competition for jobs were widely reported among host communities in the years following the refugee influx.

While international frameworks provide useful tools and guidelines, studies on adaptive peacebuilding caution that strategies successful in other contexts require careful adaptation to local realities.

Many local conflicts are deeply entangled with political party rivalries, land governance disputes, and longstanding social hierarchies. These dynamics require responses grounded in local knowledge and relationships.

Rather than withdrawal, local peacebuilders are calling for deeper collaboration, including co-designed processes involving community actors before project proposals are finalized and longer-term funding cycles that allow adaptation over time.

Reducing reporting requirements for smaller grants has also been recommended in humanitarian reform discussions to allow community organizations to focus primarily on engagement rather than administrative compliance.

Projects developed without meaningful local input risk overlooking grievances or reinforcing local inequalities, a concern highlighted in multiple studies examining participatory development practices.

By contrast, initiatives rooted in community ownership tend to prove more resilient; for example, studies on localized humanitarian action in Cox’s Bazar have demonstrated that community-led responses foster ownership and sustain communication channels even after formal project periods ended.

As Bangladesh continues to navigate economic pressures, political polarization, and the ongoing humanitarian realities surrounding the Rohingya crisis, the importance of inclusive peacebuilding becomes even more apparent.

International aid remains indispensable. Yet its effectiveness depends not only on financial resources and technical expertise, but also on humility and genuine partnership.

At the end of one community mediation meeting in Teknaf, facilitators closed the session not with a list of performance indicators, but with a series of questions: Whom should we speak with first? Which community elders might help defuse tensions? How can trust be rebuilt, step by step?

The answers to these questions rarely appear in official reports. Yet they form the quiet foundation of social cohesion. For local peacebuilders across Bangladesh, the lesson is clear: Lasting peace cannot be delivered from a distance. It must grow within communities themselves, shaped by local realities, and supported by international partners willing to listen before they act.

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo by Christian Gutiérrez Martínez on Pexels.

By Brindaalakshmi K.

Author’s note: This article specifically looks at the impact of the U.S policy
changes on a sub-group, LBQT (Lesbian, Bisexual, Queer, Trans) people
within the LGBTQ+ spectrum in South Asia, to understand the policy
impact on people gender-assigned female at birth or trans-feminine
people.

“Women aren’t even allowed to choose their own life partner. So a same sex relationship is not an option,” Sandii, founder and general secretary of Mobbera Foundation in India, told me.

Many activists working with the LBQT+ communities in South Asia share this opinion. As a gender professional from Pakistan said, “LGBT issues and rights are seen as Western ideas.” 

Given the mainstream understanding of trans identities in many countries in the region, trans people are often subjected to increased violence by religious forces, especially in places where homosexuality is criminalised, like in Pakistan and Bangladesh. However, queer activists believe that women’s sexuality is often erased. Nafisa, a queer woman from Pakistan, told me that there is a culture of invisibility:  “You can be who you are, but don't say things out loud. My Allah is OK with it. It is not Islam but the culture.” She added, “Here [in Pakistan] I’m hyper aware of being a woman. I forget I’m queer.”

Following USAID’s 90 percent funding cut, the Trump administration’s attempts to stifle gender expression have had a direct impact on gendered bodies worldwide — not just in access to resources and critical services, but also in getting recognition for their identity. 

I have been in conversation with non-profits, networks and funders working with the LBQT+ community in South Asia and the Caribbean nation of Belize to report on the impact. Despite a history of criminalising homosexuality, varying levels of legal milestones related to LGBTQ+ rights were achieved in India, Pakistan, Nepal, and Belize since 2017 — Trump’s first term in office. However, according to Joy Chia at the Astraea Lesbian Foundation for Justice, anti-trans rhetoric has been steadily increasing, and violence towards trans feminine people has multiplied enormously in Pakistan and Bangladesh in recent years. In addition, an LBQT+ rights activist from Nepal shared, “The actions by the US have now given the anti-queer actors in Nepal more power. There have been protests against LGBT rights. LBQ+ activists who are visible have been targeted, and those in the closet find it difficult to come out.”

Shifting political priorities and their impact

According to a 2025 report by the Kaleidoscope Trust (UK), funding cuts to LGBTQ+ organisations and programmes are leading to an increasingly hostile security environment. Across nations, governments are shifting their political priorities with the change in the US position on gender issues, following which, big European donors — the Netherlands, Switzerland, Denmark and Germany — have been shifting their funding priorities. Alex Farrow, CEO of Kaleidoscope Trust, said, “With the change in US position, other countries no longer feel a moral obligation to support these issues. Earlier, activists and organisations felt vindicated with the moral support from the US. The US held soft power to do things that might not happen otherwise.”

However,  the Mother’s Movement in Sri Lanka applauded the Trump administration’s attack on LGBTQ+ communities, requesting in a letter to the US embassy in the country that its fight continue.

In recent years, Astraea Foundation, through its work, has been noticing changes in the US and abroad that seem to have similar goals — consolidation of power and control over civil society. Joy Chia said that this policy shift has increased Astraea Foundation’s need to ensure its partners are safe from government overreach and scrutiny. “Shrinking civic space has been seen across South Asia since 2017. From a grant-making perspective, moving money and resources into South Asia has been deeply affected.” 

Funding cuts further limit available support

Jean Chong of Asia LBQ Network shared that funding cuts have been a recurring discussion among LBQT+ organisations in South Asia. Even though they do not receive funds directly from the US government, these organisations access funds through intermediaries who redistribute them to smaller organisations. The funding cuts have impacted the intermediaries, and as a result the smaller LBQT+ organisations and those working on gender issues.

“A lot of them get funding from feminist funds like Astraea, which has lost a lot of money from USAID,” Chong said, adding, “This has had a cascading effect, because LBQ groups are usually very poor and have only one or two grants. So losing one grant could mean losing fifty percent or more of their funding.” 

Many sources observed the consistent pattern with every Republican administration in the US of cutting down funds for women’s health, abortion, contraceptives, HIV and LGBTQ+ rights. However, the pinch has been steep following the administrative change, especially given the generous funding for these organisations provided by the Biden administration. The archived website of the Global Equality Fund by the US government that supported grassroots LGBTQ+ organisations, mentions that it provided emergency support to individuals and organisations in over 100 countries.

Funding cuts have led to reductions in life-saving programmes and in the size of teams in organisations. Many have shut down. The uncertainty about the future of their ability to do impactful work has led to a significant increase in stress and burnout, impacting the overall wellbeing of individuals working on these issues.

Reimagining movement-building opportunities

Some within the LBQT+ community in the region view the recent funding crisis as an opportunity to move beyond Global North funding. A gender professional from Bangladesh told me, “Lots of funds were available over the last 15–20 years without sufficient change. Organisations have been doing the bare minimum with no larger vision. [They] receive funding and organise meetings, photos, and reports, to check the boxes for the funders’ sake but with little policy impact or real change.” Another from Pakistan agreed: “It is good to lose funding because then we will revamp the way we work. The first world creates problems, then they give money to solve these problems. But there’s no real-life impact.”

Organisations have been forced to reimagine the ways to raise funding to remain afloat, including fundraising beyond their work on rights-based issues. One head of a non-profit organisation working on queer issues in Bangladesh said they are exploring themes like climate change to sustain the work they do. “We are contemplating sharing resources and services with other [organisations] like renting out our spaces, catering, providing business to each other to sustain and rotate the funds. These conversations are still in a planning stage and will see the light once we run out of all our existing funds.” Similar ideas are emerging halfway across the world in Belize. Charrice Talbert, president of Promoting Empowerment Through Awareness for Lesbian/bisexual women in Belize (PETAL), said her organisation plans to raise funds by providing printing services for school students, among other ideas. 

Joy Chia at the Astraea Foundation shared about the rise of local philanthropic opportunities, particularly in India. Following the Trump administration’s decision to discontinue foreign funding, three transgender clinics, including India's first trans clinic, Mitr in Hyderabad, were shut down. Subsequently, the clinic reopened as Sabrang clinic in July 2025 with philanthropic support from Tata Trusts. In February 2025, Godrej Industries, Keshav Suri Foundation and Radhika Piramal, executive director of VIP Industries, in her individual capacity, launched the Pride Fund to support LGBTQ+ community organisations. 

In addition, Jean Chong shared that the Asia Feminist LBQ Network is helping set up an independent fund, the Queer Feminist Fund (QFF), as a ground-up, regional feminist funding initiative to provide flexible core support to grassroots collectives and initiatives that are often excluded from mainstream philanthropy. Alternative means of supporting movement building are under discussion in some cases and being tested in others; however, consistency and sustainability of these newer means remain a concern for most, and are nowhere close to sufficient to meet  current on-the-ground needs.

Worsening state of the left-out ‘L’ in LGBT

Conversations about the US policy changes have also brought to light the pre-existing invisibilisation and misogyny experienced by LBQT+ people, and the silencing of the severity of their experiences because of political and policy developments. “Most LBQT+ organisations are much smaller than most LGBTQ+ organisations in the region, which have mainly focused on gay and transgender issues for a long time,” said Chong. Sources from across South Asia attribute the invisibilisation of LBQ+ persons to the long-running government programmes on HIV that mainly focus on gay men and trans women. “Within LGBTQIA+ spaces, gay men are visible. For women, there is no space. Gay men should use their privilege to create space for queer women,“ shared Nafisa, speaking about Pakistan. Similarly, a queer woman working on LGBTQ+ rights in Bangladesh said that the public sees their organisation as a youth organisation. “We cannot be seen working on queer rights.”

Continued criminalisation of homosexuality in Bangladesh, Pakistan and Sri Lanka has led to clubbing the rights of sexual minorities with gender diversity and gender issues. “We frame everything under gender diversity. We can’t talk about LBQ issues. It will become an existential threat if we did,” said a gender professional from Pakistan. Within the LBQT spectrum, hijras (an Indigenous identity in the transgender spectrum) are overrepresented, subjecting them to more violence, while LBQ+ persons remain invisible, according to a source working on these issues in Bangladesh. “The organising for LBQ+ persons has been more in the last decade or so. Funders also noticed this gap and tried to support women-led organisations,” she added.

In contrast, Belize does not recognise the rights of transgender people. Currently, there is no way to change their gender on national documents or gain access to any kind of gender affirmative care in the country. Several organisations in Belize work on LGBTQ+ rights; however, PETAL is the only one working for the rights of LBQ women in the country, says Charrice Talbert, who heads the organisation. Further, Belize recognises the rights of heterosexual couples who live together in a common-law relationship. Magistrate Margaret McKenzie explained, “Belize does not recognise same sex relationships when it comes to legal issues. A common-law relationship between a man and a woman is legally accepted. When there is a breakup of that relationship, either party can get legal remedies.”

Whereas, in South Asia, class and caste privilege also impact the access and visibility of LBQ women and non-binary persons. “Sustaining oneself in Dhaka also means that they are from a stronger socio-economic class,” said the source in Bangladesh. LBQ+ women from smaller cities and towns fear being seen in any queer events, giving rise to online engagement of the LBQ community, and with smaller private events like book readings that go beyond queer topics. In Pakistan, however, queer women seem to be absent even in online spaces for fear of being outed. Talking about her challenges with finding community, Nafisa said, “In Islamabad, I met no queer women on Bumble. In Lahore, I met two women and one of them is married to a man. It is a lot to sustain two lives in Pakistan. I try not to think about companionship.”

A Nepali queer woman said, “In Nepal, we are still talking about brahmin marrying a brahmin. If there’s no acceptance of caste, then [acceptance for] queer people will take a long time.” Nepal is the only country in the region that allows registration of same sex marriage following a temporary Supreme Court ruling in 2023, although this registration does not guarantee equal rights as offered to heterosexual couples. Another Nepali LBQ+ activist noted that lesbian women remain excluded in government programs for allowances provided for widowed women. “If a woman is over 20 years of age and widowed, they are entitled to an allowance. This is for heterosexual women. Lesbians cannot get this allowance if their partner dies.” 

Similar discrimination against LBQ+ women is prevalent in India, which decriminalised homosexuality in 2018. This is one among many other latent forms of misogyny and re-discrimination and LBQ+ erasure that is prevalent in decriminalised contexts, owing to the lack of deliberate attempts by the state to amend policies and laws for LBQT+ inclusion. 

Worsening the existing erasure experienced by LBQT+ persons in countries with regressive and misogynistic politics and policies, the Trump administration’s position on gender issues has further pushed this community into the shadows. Most sources believe that the status quo is likely to remain the same, if not worsen in the near future. But hope may still prevail. In the words of Alex Farrow, the CEO of Kaleidoscope Trust, “In 1990, 114 countries criminalised homosexuality. By 2008, this was 78. That's a 30 percent reduction in under 20 years – achieved without major US or UK funding. So we did it before, and we will do it again. As a movement, we are agile.”  

One also hopes that this time, may this movement drive more countries to not only decriminalise homosexuality but also uproot their internalised misogynistic thinking at its core.

Originally published on Global Voices

Image provided by Rumeen Farhana. Used with permission.

Forget the “Mother of Dragons,” in Bangladesh, a different matriarch has taken flight, the “Mother of Ducks.” If you’ve read the news, scrolled online, or even glanced at a screen in Bangladesh lately, you’ve probably learned of Rumeen Farhana. She’s currently occupying more headspace in the national psyche than anyone else.

Rumeen Farhana is a Bangladeshi barrister and politician previously affiliated with the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), serving as its co-international affairs secretary. She entered politics under the mentorship of the former prime minister Khaleda Zia.

For years, Farhana has been the unmistakable face of BNP in the Awami regime. As a Member of Parliament, she was often the solitary, piercing voice challenging the Awami League’s hegemony to its face. Yet, in a twist that mirrors the volatile nature of Bangladeshi politics, the 2026 elections saw her not as the party’s vanguard, but as a castaway.

She won the Brahmanbaria-2 constituency as an independent candidate by a margin of 38,000 votes in the recently concluded 2026 Bangladeshi general election. After failing to secure a nomination from the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), she contested as an independent with her now-iconic “duck” symbol, and was later expelled from the party. The BNP administration had instead supported a candidate from an allied party against her.

Since the duck was her official election symbol, she sat down for a press meet on February 13th with a literal, living duck curled up in her lap. The internet, doing what it does best, immediately lost its mind and crowned her the “Mother of Ducks.”

The internet was flooded with posts dubbing her the “Mother of Ducks.” Fair use.

Of all women candidates in this and the past elections, Rumeen has endured the most abject, horrific, and relentless forms of online and offline harassment. She had stood against her own party, the nation’s tide, violent attackers, and pretty much every form of populist political rhetoric that dominates Bangladeshi society. Throughout the election, political parties and non-partisan users from across the spectrum continually attacked, vilified, and released the worst forms of AI-generated hate and sexual content against her. Yet, despite all odds, the “Mother of Ducks” remains unbowed, undefeated, and unapologetically herself.

In this exclusive interview with Abhimanyu Bandyopadhyay of Global Voices, she speaks about her rupture with the BNP leadership, allegations of internal corruption, Bangladesh’s deepening gender fault line, and the shrinking space for dissent.

Abhimanyu Bandyopadhyay (AB): You’ve frequently alleged that during the recent national parliamentary elections, major political parties deployed millions of taka (BDT) and online bot armies against you. As an independent candidate, did you genuinely believe you could pull off a win against such organized forces?

Rumeen Farhana (RF): Yes, I did. See, my politics revolves around Bangladesh’s most marginalized working-class people. So, I had to bet my everything on those unheard voices.

What gave me confidence was the response I was getting on the ground. From day one, my campaign was all about welfare. I went door-to-door, spoke to them personally, listened to their problems, and gradually people came forward on their own. It has been my good fortune that they accepted me with such spontaneity and affection. I have never practiced identity politics, never weaponized religion for political gain, and never used hollow nationalism as a tool.

Throughout the campaign, my core mantra was to address my constituents’ demands and needs. And I think people sensed that I wasn’t there to cash in. That I wouldn’t walk away from a position or be bought off with money. And because of that trust, I didn’t need any flashy rallies or expensive showdowns to prove my credibility.

AB: In Brahmanbaria-2 constituency, both the BNP alliance and Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami fielded candidates who are Islamic clerics, suggesting that religious influence was a significant factor in the constituency. Did you face any difficulty in making yourself acceptable to voters?

RF: Not at all. There is an enormous gulf between the manufactured reality of Facebook bot accounts and the reality on the ground. The working-class people in the villages are far more transparent and open-minded than we give them credit for. Their daily struggle for food, clothing, and shelter is so intense that they simply do not have the luxury of indulging in any social media delulu.

I went to them exactly as I am. I refused to feign a persona just to appear more acceptable. That would have been dishonest. The fact that they accepted me is clearly proven by the election results. I am even grateful to those who did not vote for me, who criticized me harshly, or attacked me with inappropriate language. Because their behavior inspired many ordinary people to stand more firmly in my favor.

Rumeen Farhana with her pet duck. Screenshot from YouTube video by Campus Times. Fair use.

AB: Why did you decide to contest as an independent candidate?

RF: I have been working in this constituency since 2017. In 2018, I was asked to step aside for a senior leader, with the promise that 2024 would be my turn.

In 2024, the party again finalized my candidacy. Even the current Home Minister, Salahuddin Ahmed, called me to confirm that the Chairman himself had confirmed my seat. Then, suddenly, everything changed.

In Bangladesh, major political parties largely operate on two things: money and sycophancy. If you can provide both, your nomination is secure. I had neither. So what happened was perhaps inevitable.

Look at the hypocrisy. The Ameer of Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami recently said that no woman can rise to the party’s top leadership. Women who join Jamaat do so knowing this reality. But those of us in the BNP believed that there would be no such gender based discrimination. Yet, in the end, not a single woman secured nomination independently of male patronage. Only three percent of nominees were women, and almost all of them inherited either their father’s or husband’s seat.

If I only knew that it would require a man’s shadow to secure a ticket in BNP, I would never have gone there. We criticize Jamaat, but can anyone hold a top position in the BNP other than a member of the Zia family? Aren’t these two sides of the same coin?

The day I decided to contest as an independent candidate, I knew that I could be expelled from the party. Although I didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

There is also a personal cycle here. My father (Oli Ahad) was a freedom fighter in the liberation movement and also a founding member of the Awami League. In 1973, when the Awami League was at the height of its power, he contested as an independent candidate and won. Fifty-three years later, history repeated itself. I am the same age now that he was then. Sometimes I feel it’s all part of God’s plan. If Baba (father) were alive today, he would have been immensely proud.

AB: Why do you think you were expelled so abruptly?

RF: Because for the past 17 months, I refused to stop speaking the truth. That truth may not have been comfortable for the party. I openly spoke out against their extortion rackets(chandabazi), their indiscriminate oppression of people and the oppsition party members, and their illegal businesses in sand and soil mining. Thus, Rumeen Farhana had become a problematic individual for them whom they needed to sideline as soon as possible.

They even appointed a person accused in a murder case as Minister for Shipping, Roads and Bridges in the new government. It seems that over the last 17 months, the BNP owned the very people they claimed to expel or discipline.Sometimes I wonder if these people are the real members and perhaps I was the misfit.

AB: You entered politics under the mentorship of former Prime Minister Khaleda Zia. You were expelled from the party on the day of her passing. Do you see a connection between the two events?

RF: It was absolutely intentional. They didn’t even have the decency to discuss it with me first. And to choose that day? A moment of national mourning? They couldn’t wait two days?

I feel pity for them. Where does this damn arrogance comes from? The August 5th mass uprising, which brought you people to power, was not even your own achievement. You guys are just reaping the rewards of others’ sacrifices.

I just want to ask the current BNP leadership where were they during the 16 years of Sheikh Hasina’s rule? During the final years of the Hasina regime, I stood alone as the party’s vanguard while they were either hiding abroad or ducking under tables at home.

In 2024, Rumeen Farhana was the only person who stood in Parliament and declared the election illegal to the Prime Minister’s face.

Now that they have a taste of power, they want to label me an outsider?

Madam Khaleda Zia was like a guardian to me. Without her blessings, I could not have come this far. In 2018, even from jail, she sent a message to the secretary general that if anyone was to represent Brahmanbaria, it should be me.

I joined this party because of her. I walked in her shadow. It seems the party leadership made it clear through my expulsion that from the moment of her passing, my journey within the BNP was over.

B: How difficult is it for a woman to pursue politics in Bangladesh’s current socio-political climate?

RF: It is exhaustingly difficult. In Bangladesh, we have this strange paradox. We’ve had women in top administration for decades, yet we have an insane level of misogyny embedded in our collective unconscious. Sometimes, I get the feeling that a large section of our society would only truly feel at peace if women were erased from the public sphere entirely.

Let me give you an example of how deep this goes. I have many well-wishers who are highly educated people with degrees from prestigious foreign universities. They come up to me and say, “You know, Rumeen, there isn’t a better female orator than you.” I usually just smile and ask them a simple question: “Who among the men is better?”

People literally cannot process a reality where a woman’s merit isn’t qualified by her gender. So, they try to tuck me back into that neat little “female” box to make it feel less threatening.

Over the last sixteen years, you won’t find a single man in my former party who stood as vocally or as fearlessly in the line of fire as I did. But as a nation, we have this systemic, almost cellular resistance to giving a woman her due. We’ll cheer for her, sure, but we hate to admit she’s the best in the room. It’s not like we can’t win an election; it’s the system that’s gatekeeping us from contesting.

AB: Regarding attacks on women, we saw the Awami League’s “Helmet Bahini” (helmet brigade) do it, and we’ve seen similar patterns under the interim government. On February 20, at midnight, just one day after the elected government was established, you were attacked at the Shaheed Minar by BNP supporters. What is your take on this?

RF: Right now, the biggest threat to the BNP is the BNP itself. They secured a two-thirds majority in Parliament. The Awami League is not currently active in the field. Therefore, they are running an unbalanced parliament alongside their former allies. If they cannot restrain and civilize their own cadres, the BNP is headed for dark days.

However, when I look ten or fifteen years down the road, I struggle to see a place for the BNP in the long-term future of Bangladeshi politics. I believe our political landscape will likely return to a two-party system. On one side, there will be Jamaat and its allies, and on the other, the Awami League and the left. I don’t think the BNP can survive by trying to hold the middle ground unless they treat their two-thirds majority as a threat and implement constant checks and balances. If they don’t refine themselves, if they don’t strictly monitor their workers, they will lose their public connection soon.

AB: During the interim period, we saw a dangerous normalization of violence, where mobs could torch media offices and walk away with total impunity, knowing no one would touch them. Do you feel that same current is flowing through this new administration?

RF: It’s a disgrace, and it’s deeply alarming. The mob violence you’re talking about isn’t just a series of isolated incidents; it’s a manufactured culture. When I was attacked, those people had that exact sense of invulnerability in the back of their minds. And frankly, the government’s silence has only proven them right. To this day, no one from the administration has even bothered to reach out to me, let alone talk about justice.

There is no oppressor more terrifying than a former victim who finally gets a taste of power. After fifteen years of being suppressed, BNP cadres have become completely unhinged. They won’t tolerate any dissent.

The tragedy is that the Bangladeshi bureaucracy and the police force remain as nakedly politicized as ever. They’ve just changed colors. If this lawlessness isn’t brought under control immediately, the BNP is going to find itself facing a very grim future. You can’t govern a country through the whims of a mob.

AB: What are the biggest challenges ahead of the BNP government?

RF: The first is undoubtedly the economy. It’s catastrophic. We’re looking at over 600,000 Crore Taka in defaulted loans, with the total national debt likely hitting the 40 Lakh Crore mark. Recovering the economic infrastructure from is going to be a massive uphill battle.

The second is law and order. What happened to me on 21st February is just a small snapshot of the current state of security. Bringing stability back to the streets is easily one of the government’s toughest jobs right now.

Thirdly, as I said before, the government itself is its own biggest challenge. Having a two-thirds absolute majority is a double-edged sword; it’s dangerous for any organization. To keep that many party workers and activists in check, you need a highly professional, proactive police force. We don’t have that level of professionalism yet. If we did, the mob that had attacked me right in front of the police, would have been caught then and there. The BNP administration has to put an end to this mob culture, otherwise they will simply get eaten by their own people.

Lastly, it’s the commodity prices. With Ramadan right around the corner, prices for essentials have already taken a massive leap. Although people are staying quiet for now but that patience won’t last forever. Apart from these there are plenty of other challenges as well. Let’s see how the government deals with them.

AB: As a Member of Parliament, what will your priorities be?

RF: My first priority is infrastructure, especially roads. Secondly, ensuring gas supply in Brahmanbaria. We have gas fields here, yet many households do not have access to gas. I want to ensure that the people of Brahmanbaria benefit first. Thirdly, I want to modernise health centres, schools and colleges, madrasas, temples and mosques, as well as other educational and social institutions. Ashuganj is a commercial hub, with gas resources, power plants, a fertiliser factory, and a river port. I want to utilise these potentials to increase investment and create employment opportunities.

AB: Do you think your victory will inspire more women to join politics?

RF: I hope so. As of now, I’m already feeling a shift. But I do have a concern. Many women in Bangladesh internalize a permanent victim identity. I haven’t seen this pattern as strongly in the West or even in India. This likely stems from years of oppression that have embedded deep insecurities within them. The next generation must move beyond this mindset. Dear girls, trust your own strength, fix your gaze on your target, and be prepared for the sheer level of patience, labor, and sacrifice required to get there. Bangladesh’s political culture suffers from a chronic lack of well-educated people. Even when such individuals do enter, they get systematically sidelined . If we want to change the trajectory of this nation, we need more educated individuals, especially women, to step into politics.

Originally published on Global Voices

Volunteers and workers clear debris from blackened ground following a devastating fire in Camp 11 on February 13, 2026, at approximately 3:20 a.m. Photo by Maung Thein Myint, Human Rights Defender, Refugee Advocate, and Documentary Researcher. Used with permission.

Mohammad Ali had already lost everything once. On March 22, 2021, a Disaster Management Unit volunteer rushed toward the flames engulfing Camp 9 in Ukhia, Cox’s Bazar, the largest refugee camp in Bangladesh, his extinguisher raised like a weapon against the inevitable. “As we were dousing it, fire engulfed the other side,” he would later recall. “When our extinguishers ran out, we rushed home. We couldn’t take any belongings. We just took our children and ran.”

By the time the inferno subsided that evening, fifteen people were dead, 45,000 refugees were displaced, and more than 10,000 shelters had vanished into ash and memory. What stands out in the humanitarian record is not just this catastrophe but the sheer recurrence: between May 2018 and December 2025, 2,425 documented fires have struck the world’s largest refugee settlement in Southeast Bangladesh, affecting over 100,000 individuals and destroying more than 20,000 shelters.

This is not the story of accidents. Rather, it chronicles how a refugee crisis has metastasized into something more insidious — an infrastructure of permanent crisis.

The mathematics of vulnerability

Consider the spatial layout of Camp 5 in Ukhia, where on January 7, 2024, flames consumed 900 shelters in several hours, displacing around 5,000 refugees, including 3,500 children. The fire challenged responders not merely through its intensity but through the very design of the settlement itself: strong winds funnelled flames through narrow corridors, water hydrants depleted within minutes, access roads too cramped for fire trucks, and households resisting the demolition of their shelters to create firebreaks even as flames approached.

“We were all asleep when fire broke out,” Rasheda, a 42-year-old mother of five, told Save the Children after losing her home in that same January blaze. “I quickly woke my husband, elderly mother-in-law, and children — we left the shelter, and that saved our lives. We could not save any belongings. Have nothing left to wear this winter.”

Within Cox Bazar, fire is not a risk to be managed. Instead, it becomes an inevitability engineered into the settlement’s DNA. Every shelter is made of of bamboo, tarpaulin, and plastic rope, with no fire resistant materials. The population density exceeds 95,000 people per square kilometer in some blocks of the camp, and most families cook with open flames inches from their neighbors in structures that become tinder-dry each winter.

Lance Bonneau, IOM’s chief of mission, articulated this with careful bureaucratic precision: “When fires strike overcrowded camp settings, the impact extends far beyond damaged infrastructure. Families lose shelter, essential belongings, and access to basic services.”

What remains unspoken is that such impacts are not unfortunate externalities but predictable outcomes of political decisions — to warehouse nearly one million people on inadequate land with far too few resources.

Fire as a weapon: The arson economy

However, not all fires emerge from structural inevitability. Increasingly, flames have become tactical instruments in a shadow war for territorial control. In March 2023, a Bangladesh Ministry of Defence investigation concluded that the fire that destroyed 2,800 shelters and displaced 12,000 people was “planned sabotage.”

Htway Lwin, a Rohingya community leader, described how gunfire between rival factions preceded the blaze: “There was a gunfight between two gangs. As soon as the huts were set on fire, members of one gang did not allow the refugees to put out the fire.” Cox’s Bazar Police Chief Mahfuzul Islam confirmed that “several Rohingya sources reported how insurgent group ARSA men set fire,” referring to the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army, one of at least ten armed groups operating within the camp.

Killings of refugees by militant organizations rose from 22 in 2021 to 90 in 2023. Meanwhile, abductions increased nearly fourfold, with over 700 kidnappings in the first nine months of 2023 alone, compared to approximately 200 in 2022 and 100 in 2021.

Residents stand along a raised embankment overlooking the charred remains of shelters after a fire broke out in Camp 11 in the early hours of February 13, 2026, around 3:20 a.m. Photo by Maung Thein Myint, Human Rights Defender, Refugee Advocate, and Documentary Researcher. Used with permission.

“Someone from ARSA threatened [Camp 11] residents just ten days ago,” explained Nurul, a Block C resident, to The New Humanitarian. “We complained to the police, who told us to be watchful and conduct night patrols.” Ten days later, fire consumed his neighborhood.

Groups like ARSA and the Rohingya Solidarity Organization (RSO) wage turf wars through flame, transforming the camps into what one humanitarian official called “a city of a million people — there are nice neighborhoods and bad neighborhoods.” These are not organic urban divisions but militarized zones where forced recruitment, extortion, and disappearances have become routine.

The political economy of ashes

Understanding fire in Cox’s Bazar requires mapping its economic architecture. When flames swept through Camp 11 on March 5, 2023, the immediate humanitarian response cost included emergency shelter materials, non-food item kits, water trucking, medical services, and food distributions for 16,000 affected refugees.

Each fire triggers a cascade of hidden costs: families lose identification documents and are forced to undergo months-long bureaucratic battles for replacement. Children miss education when learning centers burn — in January 2024, at least 1,500 students lost access to schooling overnight. Medical records vanish, complicating disease management. Social networks fragment as families relocate to different blocks.

This fire safety theater reveals the system’s central paradox. Humanitarian actors optimize for emergency responses — training volunteers, positioning extinguishers, and conducting awareness campaigns — that rarely arrive in time while the root of the fires remains unaddressed. Plans for 50,000 semi-permanent fire-resistant shelters, announced with fanfare, now languish unfunded after the international aid cuts in early 2025.

Barbed wire and blocked exits

Nowhere does the fire-security paradox manifest more lethally than in the barbed wire fencing that encircles the camps. Installed ostensibly for security, these barriers became death traps during the March 2021 inferno. At least fifteen people perished, with hundreds injured attempting to climb or cut through the wire as flames approached.

The fencing remains. It prevents unauthorized movement to maintain camp security. However, what this security apparatus actually secures is a population rendered maximally vulnerable — contained enough to prevent flight, but not protected enough to ensure survival when disaster strikes.

The sustainable solution mirage

How many times must these refugees witness fire consuming their lives? The question haunts every humanitarian briefing, every donor appeal, every investigative report.

Omar Khan, a 35-year-old teacher in Camp 5, placed responsibility squarely on camp authorities after the January 2024 blaze: “Camp authorities are responsible for the scale of devastation.” Others accused officials of failing to ensure adequate access to basic assistance and emergency services, despite the camps experiencing over 300 fires in six years.

Following the March 2021 catastrophe, António Vitorino, IOM’s Director General, declared, “This disaster is a terrible setback that exacerbates the humanitarian needs. We will need to start from zero to rebuild.” Starting from zero, however, is precisely what humanitarian architecture in Cox’s Bazar has perfected — not as a failure but as an operating system.

Kaiser Rejve, CARE Bangladesh’s Head of Programs, described the organization’s response after a January 2026 fire displaced 2,185 people: “Beyond immediate response, we are committed to strengthening prevention efforts. We will incorporate dedicated fire safety sessions into shelter upgrade and maintenance modules to raise awareness and promote safer practices.”

This fire safety theatre reveals the system’s central paradox. Humanitarian actors optimize for theoretical emergency responses — training volunteers, positioning fire extinguishers, and conducting awareness campaigns — while the fundamental conditions that guarantee fires remain untouched.

Sustainable solutions exist in theory: relocate families to less-dense configurations, construct fire-resistant shelters using concrete and metal, create adequate firebreaks, remove barbed-wire fencing, and establish professional fire services within camps.

Each of these interventions, however, collides with the fundamental political reality. The Bangladesh government does not intend for these settlements to be permanent, despite housing people for eight years and counting, so any significant, long-term investment faces steep political obstacles.

Originally published on Global Voices

A long queue of residents’ snakes across the school grounds around midday on February 12, 2026. Voters line up in several long rows waiting to cast their ballots, illustrating high turnout and extended waits at this Mirpur polling station in central Dhaka. Image by the author, used with permission.

On February 12, 2026, Bangladesh held an election that many are calling a landmark democratic exercise, the first truly competitive vote the country has seen in nearly two decades. But beneath all the talk of a democratic fresh start and the restoration of electoral choice, there’s a tricky question lurking: what kind of democracy is this, really, and who gets to decide if it’s legitimate?

As the results started coming in after the voting ended, the center-right Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP)-led alliance pulled off a landslide victory, picking up at least 212 out of the 299 seats counted. The far-right Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami (BJI)-led alliance followed as the second-largest bloc with around 77 seats, while the National Citizen Party, started by leaders of the 2024 uprising, made its parliamentary debut with six seats.

However, the BNP’s commanding victory with its two-thirds parliamentary majority raises fundamental questions not just about who won, but about what kind of democracy is actually taking shape. It might be called a “democracy of subtraction” — an election that achieved procedural fairness partly by excluding the party that governed for the previous fifteen years, but creates a paradox at the heart of claims about democratic legitimacy.

Participatory democracy restored: The numbers behind electoral engagement

What unfolded across 42,779 polling centres that day was nothing less than a remarkable institutional achievement — a testament to coordinated state machinery, technological innovation, and the resilience of democratic aspirations in a nation long starved of genuine electoral choice.

The night before the election, Chief Adviser of the Interim government Dr. Muhammad Yunus went on television and urged everyone to make February 12 the “birthday of a new Bangladesh”, mentioning that it was the voters themselves who would write the country’s future.

In what marked the largest security mobilisation in Bangladesh’s electoral history, nearly 970,948 security personnel from every branch of law enforcement and the armed forces were stationed at polling centres and strategic locations nationwide. Every branch of the government’s security forces was involved, including over 100,000 from the army, around 5,000 from the navy, 3,730 air force personnel, more than 37,000 border guard troops, and close to 188,000 police officers.

On top of that, 1,051 executive magistrates were empowered to conduct mobile courts, creating immediate legal consequences for violations rather than waiting for post-election adjudication. In about 25,700 of the 43,000 polling centers, police wore body cameras, creating visual documentation of what happened, which helped keep both officials and security personnel accountable in real time.

Heavy security is visible outside the polling site in Paikpara, near Model Academy in the capital, Dhaka. Image by the author, used with permission.

With 127.7 million registered voters — including 64.8 million men, 62.9 million women, and 1,234 third-gender voters — this election represented one of the largest global democratic exercises of the year. Fifty registered political parties fielded 1,755 candidates, while 273 independent candidates also contested seats, providing voters with substantive choice. Among party nominees, 63 women candidates and 20 female independents participated.

Voter turnout landed at 59.44 percent — not quite the 80 to 87 percent seen in truly competitive elections decades ago, but still a significant jump from the disputed 41.8 percent reported in 2024. More importantly, it reflected real choice: people voted because they wanted to, not because they were persuaded or their ballots were fabricated.

The competitive arena: A binary contest with meaningful stakes

The contest itself came down to a straight fight between the BNP and a Jamaat-e-Islami-led coalition that included the student-founded National Citizens Party. Simple as this setup was, voters still had a clear choice between two very different visions for the country.

When the results rolled in, the BNP-led alliance didn’t just win — they won big, grabbing 212 seats and a solid two-thirds majority. The Jamaat-e-Islami alliance’s 77 seats represented the best electoral performance in Jamaat’s history, positioning them as the main opposition.

Crucially, Jamaat Ameer Shafiqur Rahman demonstrated democratic maturity by gracefully conceding defeat, despite some objections. He mentioned that his party would “respect the results of the election, whatever they may be” and would not engage in obstructive opposition politics.

Chief Election Commissioner A, M, M, Nasir Uddin briefed the results of the ‘Thirteenth National Parliament Election 2026′ at the Bangladesh Election Commission building in Agargaon, Dhaka. Image via Wikipedia by Press Information Department of Bangladesh. Public Domain. February 13, 2026.

The arithmetic of victory: When two-thirds doesn’t tell the whole story

To really understand why the BNP won so convincingly, you have to look beyond electoral dynamics to how the votes actually played out. Bangladesh uses a first-past-the-post system, meaning candidates need only win more votes than their nearest competitor, not an absolute majority. It’s a setup the country inherited from British colonial rule, and it tends to give the winning party a major boost while smaller parties with scattered support get left behind.

As several analysts have noted, the final vote share will tell us a lot more about what really happened. In this kind of system, a party that pulls in 40 to 45 percent of the national vote can easily walk away with 65 to 70 percent of the seats if their support is efficiently distributed across constituencies. On the flip side, a party with 30 to 35 percent of the vote might end up with only 20 to 25 percent of the seats if their voters are geographically concentrated or spread too thinly. So the BNP’s landslide in seats doesn’t necessarily mean they won every voter’s heart; it means they won where it counted.

This mathematical reality means that the Jamaat-e-Islami alliance, despite achieving its best electoral performance in history, may have won a substantially larger share of popular support than its 77 seats suggest. If indeed the alliance captured 30-35 percent of the national vote as some projections indicate, it means millions of Bangladeshi voters supported parties that will exercise only limited influence in a parliament where the BNP commands two-thirds of seats.

These voters’ preferences will shape parliamentary debates and opposition strategies, but they have little prospect of influencing actual policy outcomes when the governing coalition can pass any legislation, including constitutional amendments, without opposition support.

The referendum dimension: Constitutional legitimacy through popular mandate

A voter’s phone screen shows the official Smart Election app of the Bangladesh Election Commission with the assigned polling-centre details clearly visible. Image by the author, used with permission.

The parallel referendum on the July National Charter added another layer of complexity and legitimacy to the electoral exercise. The charter proposed switching Bangladesh to a bicameral parliamentary system, putting two-term limits on future prime ministers, strengthening judicial independence, and building real checks on executive power.

The reported 65.5 percent support for the Charter in unofficial results suggests that voters engaged substantively with questions about bicameral systems, term limits, and institutional safeguards rather than simply rubber-stamping proposals.

The more revealing statistic might be the 34.5 percent who voted against constitutional reforms despite the overwhelming momentum in favour — a figure that likely represents hard-core opposition to the interim government’s entire project.

By tying the election to bigger questions about how the country should be run, it turned the energy of the 2024 July uprising into actual plans on paper, instead of letting it fizzle out as revolutionary talk.

The Jamaat paradox: Democratic inclusion of anti-democratic forces

Here’s where things get complicated. One of the strangest outcomes of this election is Jamaat-e-Islami’s comeback. The party that opposed Bangladesh’s independence back in 1971 and was banned for years has now turned in its best performance ever, becoming the main parliamentary opposition.

The fact that Bangladesh let Jamaat back into the political fold while keeping out the Awami League — a party that played a vital role in the country’s 1971 independence movement, but was banned from elections following a 2024 student-led uprising that toppled Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina — appears to be an uneven accommodation that reflects the political mood of the moment more than any consistent democratic principle.

With the Awami League barred from participating, Jamaat positioned itself as the main alternative for voters seeking a “new political force”. In a more inclusive electoral environment, Jamaat might have won substantially fewer seats; however, the particular circumstances of 2026 created opportunities the party exploited effectively.

The road ahead

With the referendum passed, big constitutional changes are expected to be on the way, though actually making it happen will require dedicated constitutional work. The fact that the BNP holding a two-thirds majority means the party will basically have the chance to write the rules however they want.

However, the first-past-the-post system’s distortions suggest that the distribution of parliamentary seats may not accurately reflect the popular will of the voters.

Originally published on Global Voices

A group of youth celebrating the resignation of the Prime Minister, Sheikh Hasina, after the July revolution. Photo by Bornil Amin on Unsplash. Used under an Unsplash licence.

As Bangladesh heads toward its 13th National Parliamentary Election on February 12, 2026, campaigning is moving beyond street processions and public rallies into the digital sphere. Social media, especially Facebook, TikTok, X (formerly Twitter), and YouTube, has emerged as a key arena where political messages are crafted, debated, and pushed to wider audiences.

What was once considered an informal extension of political communication has now evolved into a core campaign tool, reflecting broader changes in voter engagement and media consumption across the country, mostly via accessible mobile phones. According to the “state of digital” in Bangladesh in 2026 report, Bangladesh had 186 million active mobile connections, about 105 percent of the population. The same report mentions that 82.8 million people, or 47 percent of people, use the internet, and 64 million use social media, mostly Facebook, TikTok, and YouTube.

Social media takes center stage as campaign strategy

Political parties and candidates in Bangladesh are now heavily investing in online outreach. According to a report by the Daily Sun, social media campaigning has become a key component of election strategy, complementing traditional grassroots mobilization. The report mentions that on Facebook, Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) Chairman Tarique Rahman has 5.6 million followers. Bangladesh Jamat-e-Islami Party’s Ameer Shafiqur Rahman has 2.3 million followers, and National Citizen Party (NCP) Convener Nahid Islam has 1.2 million followers on Facebook.

Candidates routinely use videos, live streams, and short posts to communicate directly with voters across constituencies. Political parties and candidates are also using innovative online campaign sites, campaign songs, games, and other interactive content to engage the voters of different constituencies.

With millions of Bangladeshis active online, especially the 39 percent of the population aged 13–34, platforms such as Facebook and TikTok play an increasingly important role in shaping political awareness. Digital campaigning is no longer peripheral; it has become central to how political messages are delivered and received.

Rules for online campaigning

In response to the expanding influence of social media, the Bangladesh Election Commission (EC) has introduced regulations aimed at limiting digital misuse during election periods. Candidates are required to submit details of their official social media accounts in advance, and content that violates the electoral code of conduct is prohibited.

Bangladesh Election Commission head office in Dhaka. Image by the author.

A Daily Sun summary of the election guidelines notes that spreading unverified or harmful information online, including disinformation and personal attacks, may result in penalties. The rules also explicitly ban the use of artificial intelligence (AI) to distort facts, manipulate images or videos, or mislead voters.

The regulations are intended to prevent online campaigning from undermining electoral fairness and transparency.

Misinformation and AI-generated content

Despite these safeguards, misinformation and digitally manipulated content spiked amid concerns about digital campaigns. In an in-depth fact-check, The Daily Star identified nearly 97 pieces of AI-generated content circulating on Facebook ahead of the election. Many of these posts, including deepfakes and other manipulated videos, spread widely and were used to tilt political narratives in favor of competing party camps. A recent AFP fact-checking report also confirms the use of AI-generated content to support various political parties.

Meanwhile, data released by fact-checking group Rumor Scanner — reported by Bangla Daily Prothom Alo — found 268 instances of misinformation spreading across online platforms in a single month, with a large share related to political topics. Facebook hosted most of these misleading posts.

These patterns illustrate how social media, while democratizing access to information, can also become a vector for deceptive political messaging.

Local political voices on social media abuse

Political actors themselves have begun to publicly address the misuse of social media. In a recent Prothom Alo coverage, Mahdi Amin, spokesperson for the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), accused rival groups of spreading widespread misinformation and character-assassination campaigns online ahead of the election. Reports also show how bot-driven waves of fake “haha” post reactions are used to target Facebook posts by activists and politicians across Jamaat, BNP, Awami League, and NCP circles, illustrating how bought engagement distorts public perception and exploits Facebook’s algorithm to suppress the reach of specific posts.

Such incidents capture broader concerns among local political communities about the effects of online campaigns on voter perception and political stability.

At the same time, social media platforms are taking steps to address the situation. TikTok Bangladesh has launched an “Election Information Center” in partnership with the Election Commission, aiming to provide users with official election updates. The move reflects how platforms are trying to offset misinformation by promoting verified information.

Why this matters to global audiences

Bangladesh’s experience mirrors a broader global pattern: social media has evolved from a simple communication tool into a political battleground where narratives are quickly built and amplified to a targeted audience. As Bangladeshi political parties fight for Gen‑Z attention, experimenting with viral content on social media, and confronting misinformation in parallel with street politics, legacy media are used less and less.

For international audiences, examining how digital platforms shape elections in Bangladesh offers a window into the changing nature of political participation and the pressures democracies face when technological change moves faster than oversight.

Originally published on Global Voices

2026 Bangladeshi general election and referendum postal ballot sending envelope. Image via Wikipedia by Bangladesh Election Commission. Public Domain.

Eighteen months after students and youth took to the streets to topple former President Sheikh Hasina’s increasingly autocratic regime, Bangladesh now faces what Chief Adviser Muhammad Yunus describes as a “century-defining moment.”

When Chief Election Commissioner AMM Nasir Uddin announced the schedule for Bangladesh’s 13th national parliamentary election on December 12, 2025, he framed it as a “historic role in advancing the country’s democratic journey.”

The interim government of Bangladesh described this election as “a test the country cannot afford to fail,” noting that “this opportunity for a democratic transition has come at the cost of enormous sacrifices made by the youth.”

Bangladesh, on February 12, will conduct what the European Union calls the “biggest democratic process of 2026”; however, a referendum mechanism, a digital transformation, and systematic gender marginalization expose the potentially shallow foundations of the country’s democratic renewal.

The referendum paradox

On February 12, voters will not simply elect representatives in Bangladesh’s 13th national parliamentary election; they will also vote on constitutional reforms that Yunus claims will shape the country for the next hundred years. Yet this dual mandate creates what might be called democracy’s Trojan horse — a referendum structure that appears democratic in form while potentially undermining democratic legitimacy in practice.

According to the July Charter Implementation Order, voters will receive a pink ballot containing approximately 185 words of dense constitutional language covering four complex proposals. They must answer a single yes-or-no question: “Do you agree with the ‘July National Charter (Constitutional Reform) Implementation Order, 2025’ and the following reform proposals contained in the July Charter?” No detailed explanation appears on the ballot itself. No opportunity exists to approve some reforms while rejecting others. Citizens simply vote yes or no on the entire package.

2026 Bangladesh Constitutional Referendum Postal Ballot. Image via Wikipedia by the Bangladesh Election Commission. Public Domain.

This approach transforms what should be deliberative democracy into what political scientists term “plebiscitary democracy”—a form in which citizens rubber-stamp elite decisions rather than engaging meaningfully with constitutional engineering. Furthermore, as revealed in National Consensus Commission data, only twelve of the thirty proposed reform areas achieved genuine consensus among political parties, yet Yunus claimed “overall agreement” on all thirty issues.

If voters approve the referendum but the elected Constitutional Reform Council fails to finalize amendments within 270 working days, then a Constitution Amendment Bill prepared by the unelected interim government automatically becomes law.

Consequently, Bangladesh could see constitutional amendments drafted by an interim government — which has no electoral mandate — become binding on a democratically elected parliament simply because that parliament failed to complete its assigned task within an arbitrary timeline.

The Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) described this mechanism as “wholly irrational, politically motivated, and absurd,” arguing that no bill can become law without passing through parliamentary procedures and receiving presidential confirmation.

Meanwhile, Election Commissioner Abul Fazal Md. Sanaullah noted that mock exercises showed that each voter required seven to eight minutes to complete both ballots, yet the Election Commission’s current arrangements allow only 54 seconds per male voter and 65 seconds per female voter. Standing in queues for hours will discourage participation, especially among women, elderly citizens, and those with health issues. Some voters may simply leave without casting ballots, reducing turnout and weakening electoral legitimacy.

Additionally, concerns about state neutrality have emerged. Analysts have questioned whether the government can remain neutral when field-level officials — many with administrative or electoral responsibilities — have been mobilized to promote a “yes” vote through grassroots outreach. When the state itself appears partisan, even in the absence of explicit coercion, the perception of administrative pressure becomes difficult to avoid. Such perceptions could trigger legal challenges and post-referendum disputes that further destabilize Bangladesh’s fragile democratic transition.

If the referendum succeeds, it binds an elected parliament to reforms it had a minimal role in crafting. If the referendum fails, government advisers warn that “fascism will return to Bangladesh.” Either outcome suggests that Bangladesh’s democratic transition rests on shakier foundations than revolutionary rhetoric would suggest.

Digital democracy’s double edge

When Bangladesh’s Election Commission banned physical campaign posters for the first time in electoral history, it effectively forced the 13th National Parliamentary Election into the digital realm.

Most major campaigns have moved their center of gravity online, reshaping how candidates reach voters and how voters encounter politics.

Roughly 40 percent of voters are under the age of 37, many with little memory of politics conducted exclusively through rallies, posters, and printed manifestos. For this generation, politics appears first on screens, compressed into short videos, graphic explainers, livestreamed speeches, and algorithm-driven feeds.

The youth-based National Citizen Party emerged after the 2024 student protests and has since made TikTok and Instagram key tools for engagement, reshaping protest momentum into brief, emotionally resonant visuals designed to appeal to first-time voters. Similarly, the Bangladesh Nationalist Party has leaned heavily into interactive online platforms, inviting voters to respond directly to policy proposals, while Jamaat-e-Islami, a right-leaning Islamist party, has experimented with crowdsourcing manifesto ideas through dedicated websites.

Despite impressive headline figures, large segments of Bangladesh’s population remain outside the digital ecosystem. Women, older voters, rural residents, and low-income groups are disproportionately represented among those left offline or semi-connected.

Can this shift online represent a genuine structural transformation toward youth agency and merit-based politics, while excluding millions who cannot participate in online political discourse?

Digital platforms enable smaller parties to mobilize constituencies at minimal cost; however, research reveals that sophisticated bot networks and coordinated propaganda campaigns are already working to shape Bangladesh’s electoral outcomes.

The gender exclusion test

Despite comprising over 50 percent of the population and consistently demonstrating higher voter turnout in competitive elections, women account for only 4.22 percent of candidates in the 2026 election, compared to 6.6 percent of total candidates in the 2024 elections.

Of 2,580 nomination papers submitted by candidates from 51 political parties and independents, only 109 came from women — 72 from political parties and 37 from independents. Based on currently available figures, approximately 2,000 candidates will run in 298 constituencies, with the final number of women candidates still unconfirmed, but remaining below 5 percent, representing the lowest women’s candidacy rate since 1991.

Bangladesh Nationalist Party nominated only 10 women among 287 candidates — a mere 3.5 percent that falls short of even the modest 5 percent target the party itself proposed during National Consensus Commission talks.

Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami’s record proves even worse. After entering electoral alliances, the party is fielding candidates in more than 200 constituencies, yet not a single nominee is a woman. This comes despite claiming 43 percent of their members are women and announcing plans to establish “the world’s largest women’s university” by merging Bangladesh’s Eden College and Begum Badrunnesa College. Recent comments from the leadership of the party on the position of women created multiple controversies.

Even the youth-led National Citizen Party, teeming with revolutionary youth leaders with a strong female participation, nominated only three women among 47 constituencies — around 7 percent.

If political parties cannot honor basic inclusion commitments in candidate selection, critics ask why anyone should believe they will implement complex constitutional amendments once elected and insulated from immediate accountability.

As Bangladesh approaches these three tests — the referendum paradox, the double-edged nature of digital democracy, and gender exclusion — they converge to reveal a sobering reality.

Together, these will determine whether Bangladesh’s July 2024 uprising translates into genuine democratic consolidation or merely produces what political scientists call “electoral authoritarianism” with a revolutionary facade.

Originally published on Global Voices

Tarique Rahman and Prof. Muhammad Yunus meeting in London, UK. Photo via Wikipedia Commons by the Press Information Department of Bangladesh. Public domain.

Earlier this month, Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) Acting Chairman Tarique Rahman returned to the country after nearly 17 years in exile. Rahman, 60, an aspiring prime minister who has lived in the United Kingdom since fleeing Bangladesh in 2008 over what he described as a politically motivated persecution, arrived in the capital, Dhaka, on Thursday, January 8. His much-awaited homecoming was accompanied by overwhelming emotions and a huge public reception, with thousands of followers greeting him in Dhaka’s Purbanchal town.

Who is Tarique Rahman?

Tarique Rahman is the eldest son of former Prime Minister Khaleda Zia and former President Ziaur Rahman. In 2007, during the Sheikh Hasina government, he was charged with 84 counts of illegal activity, including corruption, money laundering, defamation, and murder, and sentenced to seven years in prison.

His father, Ziaur Rahman, was a military officer turned political leader and founder of the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP); he served as president from 1977 to 1981. Tarique Rahman was detained by the military-backed interim government from 2007 to 2008 and later released to go to the United Kingdom for medical treatment, where he remained in exile in London.

He was charged with several crimes in his native country, including a connection with a plot to assassinate then-Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina. However, on March 6, 2025, he was acquitted of most of the charges by the Appellate Division of the Supreme Court.

What does Tarique Rahman’s return mean for the BNP?

Last December 24, BNP spokesperson Ruhul Kabir Rizvi described Rahman’s return as “a defining political moment” for the country.  It is indeed a crucial period. The BNP is the leading opposition group in Bangladesh’s new political landscape, which emerged after the overthrow of the Awami League government led by Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina during the July Uprising. The movement launched by students on August 5, 2024, led to the toppling of the government and Hasina’s resignation.

BNP Secretary General Mirza Fakhrul-Islam Alamgir had stated that if the BNP were to return to power, three-time Prime Minister Khaleda Zia would again lead them as prime minister if she were healthy enough; otherwise, Tarique Rahman would be their nominee for prime minister. However, following Zia’s death last December 30, the entire party is now looking to Rahman for leadership. 

Khaleda Zia’s death brought to a close one of the more consequential political careers in modern South Asia. Her political life captured Bangladesh’s unresolved tensions between democratic aspiration and institutional fragility, between nationalism and regional integration, and between autonomy and interdependence with India. As Bangladesh navigates a new political transition, her life offers enduring insights into the intersection of nationalism, democracy, and regional order.

Rahman’s comeback amid Zia’s absence is likely to energize the BNP’s base and sway undecided voters in the short term. However, to translate momentum into electoral success, Rahman must demonstrate an ability to connect with the public, reassure a deeply polarized society, and offer a credible roadmap for reform and democratic transition.

BNP’s love-hate relationship with the Jamaat

Jamaat-e-Islami, the largest Islamist political party in Bangladesh, was an ally of the BNP during its 2001–2006 administration. However, this relationship had long been strained, and the BNP has since sought to reposition itself as a centrist force.

Now, after many years, the possibility of renewed alliance between the two parties has resurfaced, as the Jamaat attempts to thaw ties with the BNP ahead of the national elections on February 12. On January 1, after a condolence visit at BNP’s Gulshan Office following Zia’s death, Jamaat-e-Islami chief Shafiqur Rahman stated that the party and the BNP will work together in the future as they had in the past for the country’s interest, reports Prothom Alo.

He also said, “BNP leaders including Tarique Rahman (BNP acting chairman) have expressed the same desire. We have also said that, for the sake of the stability of the nation for five years, in the interest of restoring a good environment, we need to think about whether we can all come up with something good together. We have also said that God willing, immediately after the elections, before forming the government, we will sit down; we will talk openly. We will think for the nation; we will make decisions for the nation.” Shafiqur Rahman is also considering forming a unity government after the next national election, Reuters reported.

According to Bangladeshi-Australian political commentator Faiyaz Hossain, those in Bangladesh waiting for a return to electoral democracy after February 12 are in for a rude awakening. “There is some support for the BNP after the demise of the former prime minister, Khaleda Zia. In the absence of the Awami League, it is the BNP alone that can win polls. … What is the point of talking about a unity government before the polls take place?”

The question remains: even if the Jamaat succeeds in bringing about a unity government, would Bangladesh be able to recover from this state of political uncertainty and move toward a democratic transition? And who will run Bangladesh in the coming days, as the country is possibly entering a prolonged period of internal turmoil?

Opportunity amid disorder

For the BNP, this is an incredibly precarious political moment that could spell their victory or downfall. The autocracy of Sheikh Hasina has given way to “mob rule” in the interim government. The “promise of a new Bangladesh” is fading amid the interim government’s failure to restore law and order nationwide.

The National Citizens’ Party (NCP), which often claims to be the legacy of the July-August movement, has also begun to lose legitimacy, especially after the official announcement of its electoral alliance with the Jamaat. This prompted many to question NCP’s credibility because of Jamaat’s controversial political history. The Jamaat opposed Bangladesh’s independence struggle in 1971 and is alleged to have collaborated in genocide and other crimes during the ensuing liberation war. Opponents of the Jamaat describe these as fundamentally incompatible with Bangladesh’s democratic spirit, and following this development, 13 central leaders of the student-led NCP have resigned since January 1.

Meanwhile, the far-right Islamist forces are also deliberately attempting to steer Bangladesh toward an Islamic theocracy. This extremist surge alarmed the progressive and liberal factions of society, many of whom are now desperately searching for a political alternative and looking to Tarique Rahman as a potential savior.

This vacuum presents the BNP with a rare opportunity to prove itself to the people of Bangladesh. Widely seen as the frontrunner in upcoming polls, with Rahman a leading contender for the premiership, the BNP appears eager to occupy the political space vacated by the now-banned Awami League.

‘I have a plan’

Rahman referenced Martin Luther King Jr.’s historic “I Have a Dream” speech (1963) in his homecoming speech. Standing before supporters in Dhaka, Rahman said he did not have a dream, but a plan, aimed at serving the people, accelerating development, and transforming the lives of ordinary citizens.

“Standing on Bangladesh soil today, as a member of the Bangladesh Nationalist Party, I want to say before all of you that I have a plan for the people of my country, for my country,” he declared. Although he did not discuss specifics, he was keen to explain that for it to be carried out, he needed the help of democratic forces across the country. “If you stand by us and support us, God willing, we will be able to implement this plan,” he further remarked.

In his 15-minute address, Rahman repeatedly called for unity among democratic forces to ensure peace, discipline, and the safety and security of citizens “at any cost.”

The road ahead

Rahman also spoke of building a Bangladesh that would include all people —  from the hill tracts to the plains — regardless of faith or identity. The Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT) region has a deep-rooted history of conflict, dating back to British colonial policies that promoted Bengali settlement in the hills. This resulted in the displacement and marginalization of Indigenous communities. Later, successive Bangladeshi governments adopted assimilationist policies, which intensified resentment and distrust in this sparsely populated region.

Even under the interim government’s tenure, reports of dehumanizing treatment by security forces persist. Whether a BNP government under Tarique Rahman can meaningfully address violence and discrimination in the region remains an open question.

More broadly, Rahman faces an uphill battle in a country experiencing a surge in violence against religious minorities, women, artists, and dissenters.

Since his much-talked-about “plan” has not yet been made public, Tarique has already faced many challenges. The most pressing is to hold free and fair general elections. His survival in the country’s political landscape as a national icon will largely depend on his ability to transcend partisan identification. Observers insist that Bangladesh requires no new messiahs. It requires a democratic political party with collectively accountable, democratically minded leadership.

Whether Tarique Rahman can rise to that challenge remains the central question of Bangladesh’s unfolding political moment.

Originally published on Global Voices

Supporters at the India vs Bangladesh CWC15 quarter final at the MCG, Australia. Image via Flickr by Tourism Victoria. CC BY 2.0.

The 2026 T20 Cricket World Cup, the biennial event organised by the International Cricket Council (ICC), is meant to celebrate cricket’s global reach, yet it has instead exposed the fault lines where sport, security, and statecraft collide with unwanted consequences. Bangladesh has refused to participate in matches scheduled on Indian soil due to security concerns and political tensions. However, the unfolding cricket crisis represents far more than a diplomatic standoff or a security dispute.

The genesis of Bangladesh’s security concerns can’t be properly understood without examining the Mustafizur Rahman paradox that has stumped the cricketing world. When the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) instructed the Kolkata Knight Riders to release the Bangladeshi pacer from their IPL 2026 squad due to security concerns, they inadvertently created a logical conundrum that Bangladeshi officials quickly seized upon.

Namely, if India’s own cricket board felt unable to guarantee the security of a single Bangladeshi player during the IPL — a tournament played under controlled conditions with private security and limited public access — how could Bangladesh reasonably trust that adequate protection would be provided for an entire national team, their support staff, travelling journalists, and potentially thousands of supporters during a global tournament?

Indeed, the ICC’s own security assessment, leaked and subsequently confirmed, acknowledges what Bangladesh has been arguing all along. The independent risk assessment in January 2026 explicitly stated that while the threat to the Bangladesh team itself remains “moderate,” the risk to Bangladeshi nationals and supporters attending fixtures would be “moderate to high, particularly those wearing team colours and travelling in isolated groups to the stadium.” Furthermore, this assessment specifically noted that “the presence of Mustafizur Rahman may be problematic if religious extremism becomes kinetically engaged.”

The report reveals a fundamental disconnect between bureaucratic risk management and lived security realities. When Sports Adviser Asif Nazrul stated that Bangladesh would not compromise “the security and dignity of its cricketers, spectators, and journalists,” he was not engaging in diplomatic theatre but rather articulating a government’s fundamental responsibility to protect its nationals.

Moreover, the timing and context of these security concerns significantly enhance their legitimacy. Relations between Bangladesh and India have deteriorated precipitously since former Bangladesh Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina fled to India in August 2024, after a student-led uprising ousted the ruling Awami League Party. Since then, diplomatic relations between the two countries have been marked by escalating tensions, mutual recriminations, and most significantly, violent incidents targeting Bangladeshi diplomatic facilities.

When diplomatic barriers block the stands

Perhaps the most overlooked dimension of this crisis involves the practical impossibility of Bangladeshi supporters actually attending the tournament, even if the security situation were resolved. Due to the ongoing diplomatic deadlock between the two states, the Indian government has implemented a strict visa restriction policy against Bangladesh, which effectively bars ordinary Bangladeshi citizens from obtaining Indian visas.

While there has been speculation that players and support staff might be granted special diplomatic visas, Bangladeshi journalists and sponsors face insurmountable barriers.

What kind of “World Cup” excludes the supporters of a participating nation? How does one celebrate cricket’s global appeal while denying entry to fans based on their nationality?

The spectre of mob violence

The possibility of mob violence against Bangladeshi supporters, players, staff, and journalists is not speculative fear-mongering but a reasonable extrapolation from documented incidents of violence against Bangladeshi fans and rising anti-Bangladesh propaganda. Across India, particularly in states like West Bengal that will host World Cup matches, anti-Bangladesh sentiment has intensified dramatically since Hasina’s ouster, fueled by accusations regarding the treatment of Hindu minorities in Bangladesh and amplified by political parties seeking electoral advantage.

Indeed, the assessment’s specific mention of Mustafizur Rahman’s presence potentially triggering violence “if religious extremism becomes kinetically engaged” reveals how the sport has become a proxy for communal flashpoints. The phrase “kinetically engaged” is security jargon for actual violence, physical attacks that could range from verbal abuse to mob assault.

The political calculations behind the crisis

Perhaps the most cynical dimension of this crisis involves how both the Indian and Bangladeshi governments are weaponising cricket for domestic political advantage, particularly in the context of the 2026 West Bengal Legislative Assembly elections scheduled for March–April 2026.

For India’s ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), which has been attempting to break into Bengal’s political space since 2014 under Prime Minister Narendra Modi, opposing Bangladesh has become an electoral goldmine.

What bigger card can there be at this moment than anti-Bangladesh rhetoric, framed as protection of Hindu minorities? If cricket and religion can be deployed as electoral instruments, particularly in Kolkata, then they are incentivised to manufacture and maintain this crisis.

Simultaneously, with its own political pressures and incentives, Bangladesh’s interim government understands that anti-India rhetoric serves as its biggest political card. Taking a strong stand against India, refusing to compromise on World Cup participation, and publicly challenging the ICC’s security assessments all play well domestically, particularly among segments of Bangladeshi society.

This creates a dangerous dynamic in which neither government has an incentive to de-escalate. Instead, both benefit from maintaining crisis conditions, from using cricket as a proxy battlefield for broader geopolitical tensions.

How exiled politics shadows the tournament

A particularly troubling dimension of this crisis involves the concentration of exiled Awami League leaders in Kolkata’s New Town area, the very city scheduled to host three of Bangladesh’s four group matches.

Approximately 2,000 former ministers and top and middle-rung leaders of the Awami League, which ruled Bangladesh from 2009 to 2024, joined by journalists, civil society activists, army officers, law enforcement officers, and diplomats who fled Bangladesh after the July revolution in August 2024, have established a de facto political base in New Town.

This creates an explosive situation where Bangladesh’s national cricket team would be playing matches in a city that has become the operational headquarters for their government’s political enemies, leaders actively planning their return to power in Bangladesh.

Would Awami League supporters, protected and hosted by Indian authorities, see Bangladesh’s cricket matches as opportunities for political demonstrations?

In this context, Bangladesh’s security concerns about playing in India become inseparable from concerns about playing in a city that serves as a sanctuary for their political opponents.

The weaponisation of sport

Despite acknowledging moderate to high risks for Bangladeshi supporters in its own security assessment, the ICC has attempted to frame these concerns as manageable and has rejected Bangladesh’s interpretation of the assessment as a “complete lie.” This denotes a deliberate dismissal of legitimate concerns to shield tournament scheduling and commercial interests.

If Bangladesh, a full member of the ICC, can have its documented security concerns dismissed as political posturing, what recourse do smaller or less politically influential cricket nations have?

The precedent being established here is perilous: that the ICC’s commitment to protecting players and supporters is conditional upon not disrupting tournament logistics or challenging powerful cricket boards like the BCCI.

As Bangladesh remains firm in its stance that it will not travel to India for the T20 World Cup 2026, the crisis reveals a dangerous intersection of sport with politics.

The ICC’s security assessment acknowledges risks but insists they are manageable. India offers security guarantees while simultaneously restricting visas for Bangladeshi supporters and failing to protect Bangladeshi diplomatic facilities in India. Both governments weaponise cricket for domestic political advantage while claiming to act in the sport’s interests.

Bangladesh’s refusal to play is not political theatre or diplomatic posturing. Rather, it represents a principled stand that security concerns matter and that cricket’s integrity depends on separating sport from the weapons of statecraft.

Originally published on Global Voices

PM Modi meeting with the Chief Adviser of the People’s Republic of Bangladesh, Mr. Muhammad Yunus at Bangkok, in Thailand on April 04, 2025. Image via Wikipedia by Press Information Bureau of India. Public Domain.

The August 2024 political upheaval in Bangladesh, which is marked by former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s forced ouster, triggered a chain reaction throughout South Asia. India responded by sharply restricting visa issuance to Bangladeshi citizens, citing security concerns amid rising anti-India sentiment. The decision came swiftly and decisively.

Where India’s High Commission in Dhaka once processed 8,000 visas daily, now only emergency medical and student visas trickle through in limited numbers.

The numbers tell a stark story of interdependence. From April 2023 to March 2024, more than 2.1 million Bangladeshis visited India, accounting for 22 percent of all foreign tourist arrivals. They came for medical treatment, shopping, cultural festivals, and family visits. They filled hotels, packed restaurants, and kept thousands of small businesses afloat. India issued over 2 million visas annually to Bangladeshis, most for medical purposes. Then, almost overnight, that flow stopped.

Kolkata's “Mini Bangladesh” goes dark

When walking through Free School Street, Marquis Street, or Sudder Street in Kolkata today visitors find a ghost town where a thriving commercial hub once stood. This two-square-kilometer area, nicknamed “Mini Bangladesh,” served as the epicenter of Bangladeshi economic activity in India. Conservative estimates place losses at INR 1,000 crore (USD 110.8 million), though actual losses across New Market and Burrabazar likely exceed INR 5,000 crore (USD 554 million).

Every day, INR 3 crore (USD 332,400) in business has simply evaporated. Currency exchanges that once bustled with customers exchanging Bangladeshi Taka now sit dormant, their electronic displays gathering dust. Travel agencies that booked hundreds of hotel rooms weekly report days without a single customer. Hotels that once operated at 80-90 percent occupancy now struggle to fill 5 percent of their rooms.

By November 2024, four businesses had permanently shuttered, with more closures anticipated. Around 150 hotels face existential threats. Nearly 3,000 shops in the area confront the same grim reality. Approximately 40 percent of small and mid-sized restaurants have closed their doors, unable to survive without their primary customer base.

Around 15,000 families depend directly on this tourism ecosystem. Homestay operators who rent rooms to visiting families earn nothing. Tour guides fluent in Bengali find no one to guide. Taxi and auto-rickshaw drivers who specialize in airport pickups and city tours sit idle. Street food vendors who thrived on Bangladeshi customers’ love for Indian street food watch their businesses wither.

Medical tourism’s dramatic decline

India’s healthcare sector faces an even starker reality. Bangladesh made up 69 percent of India’s medical tourists, creating an over-reliance that now threatens the country’s entire medical tourism industry. This concentration made India vulnerable to diplomatic disruptions.

The year-over-year decline tells a story: a 43 percent drop in November 2024, followed by 59 percent in December. Despite restrictions, approximately 482,000 Bangladeshis still managed to reach India for medical treatment in 2024, down from 500,000 in 2023. Yet this represents patients with emergency medical visas only — the broader medical tourism market has collapsed.

These patients brought billions in revenue. They chose hospitals in Kolkata, Chennai, Mumbai, and Bengaluru for treatments ranging from cardiac surgery to cancer care. Now those hospital beds remain empty.

The infrastructure that supported this medical tourism pipeline has stalled. The Maitree Express, Bandhan Express, and Mitali Express, the trains connecting India and Bangladesh, have suspended operations since August 2024. Patients who once made comfortable train journeys to Indian hospitals now face impossible barriers.

CareEdge Ratings estimates a 10–15 percent reduction in total medical tourism to India long-term. This decline reshapes the entire sector’s economics and forces painful strategic recalculations.

Ripples across sectors

The impact of the restrictions extends beyond tourism and healthcare. Cross-border business travel restrictions complicate trade relationships, slow deal-making, and create friction in supply chains.

Transportation infrastructure has suffered dramatically. Bus services between the two countries dropped from seven daily trips to just one or two, carrying 28 passengers each. The ripple effects touch tour operators, bus companies, and the entire logistics ecosystem supporting cross-border movement.

Retail shopping tourism, once a major draw in New Market and Burrabazar, has virtually disappeared. Bangladeshi shoppers came not just for goods unavailable at home but for the shopping experience itself. That retail ecosystem is now fighting for survival.

New destinations for medical tourism

Bangladeshi patients haven’t stopped seeking treatment abroad. They’ve simply changed destinations. Thailand has emerged as the frontrunner, reporting a 200 percent increase in inquiries from Bangladeshi patients. Thai hospitals provide streamlined visa procedures, with medical institutions assisting with applications.

In 2019 alone, Bangladeshis spent over THB 6.7 billion (USD 212.9 million) on medical treatment in Thailand. That figure has likely grown substantially since India’s restrictions tightened.

China has spotted the strategic opportunity. Bangladesh held medical tourism conferences with Chinese officials in Yunnan province, exploring partnerships ahead of the 50th anniversary of China-Bangladesh diplomatic relations in 2025. Plans for a “friendship hospital” in Dhaka signal China’s long-term commitment to capturing this market.

Political strains, visa delays, and what patients describe as an “unwelcoming environment” in India continue pushing Bangladeshis toward alternatives. Each month of restrictions cements these new patterns. Each positive experience in Thailand or Malaysia makes a return to India less likely.

Tourists pivot to neighboring countries

Leisure tourism shows even more dramatic shifts. Sri Lanka experienced a 121.6 percent increase in Bangladeshi arrivals in 2024, welcoming 39,555 tourists. Bangladesh became Sri Lanka’s second-fastest-growing tourism source market, filling hotels and attractions that benefited from India’s restrictions.

The Maldives saw a 52 percent increase, hosting 33,295 Bangladeshi arrivals. These travellers tend to be affluent, often seeking beach resorts and luxury experiences. Nepal welcomed 48,848 Bangladeshi visitors in 2024, up from 36,483 in 2023 — a 34 percent jump.

India previously attracted 40–45 percent of all Bangladeshi outbound tourists. Cultural ties, proximity, familial and historical connections made India the natural first choice. Now that the dominant position crumbles. From August to October 2024, Bangladeshi visitors to India dropped 28.44 percent year-over-year.

The diplomatic paradox

Prime Minister Modi speaks of maintaining “people-to-people” relationships with Bangladesh. The phrase appears in diplomatic statements and official communications. Yet how can people-to-people relationships survive when people cannot meet?

The impact can already be seen. According to International Crisis Group, New Delhi’s refuge to Sheikh Hasina, who have already been convicted in Bangladesh is adding fuel to fire. After Hasina’s pro-India Awami League was forced out following the July 2024 upheavals, rightwing parties more skeptical of — and at times openly hostile toward — India stepped into the spotlight, amplifying voices that have helped sway public opinion against India amid decades of mistrust.

Families can’t visit relatives for weddings, funerals, or festivals. Business partners struggle to maintain collaborations without face-to-face meetings. Professor Imtiaz Ahmed describes the restrictions as “inhumane and unbecoming of a neighboring country,” noting the contradiction between stated desires for people-to-people ties and policies that prevent people from actually meeting.

Each month of restrictions makes reconciliation harder. Young people in both countries grow up knowing borders as barriers rather than bridges.

The true price of closed borders

The numbers don’t lie. India has lost INR 5,000 crore (USD 554 million) of revenue in Kolkata alone. At least 69 percent of medical tourists were diverted elsewhere. And in India, 15,000 families are facing financial ruin due to the harsh visa restrictions. Meanwhile, India’s neighbors are feeling the boon as a regional realignment unfolds in real time.

Can “people-to-people” relationships survive when people cannot actually meet? Young professionals build networks in Bangkok instead of Kolkata. Patients develop loyalty to Thai hospitals rather than Indian ones. Tourists discover Sri Lankan beaches instead of Indian heritage sites. These aren’t temporary shifts — they’re permanent realignments.

While the visa and travel restrictions remain, India is losing revenue, influence, and goodwill. While Bangladesh loses convenient access to quality healthcare and cultural connections. How long can both nations tolerate this lose-lose situation before the losses become permanent?

Originally published on Global Voices

A Bangladeshi passport. Image via Flickr by Moin Uddin. CC BY-NC 2.0.

The green Bangladeshi passport, once a symbol of hope and opportunity for millions seeking better lives abroad, has become a liability at immigration counters worldwide. What unfolds daily at airports across Southeast Asia, Western Asia, and beyond is not merely a migration crisis but a systematic breakdown of trust, governance, and human dignity. Thousands of Bangladeshi citizens stand at immigration desks with valid visas in hand, only to be turned away, detained, and deported without clear explanations.

On August 13, 2025, Malaysian immigration authorities denied entry to 204 Bangladeshi nationals at Kuala Lumpur International Airport. The passengers were sent back to Bangladesh, their dreams of overseas work shattered before they could even exit the airport. This incident came after earlier mass deportations of 96 on July 11, 123 on July 24, and 80 on July 25. These travelers had valid visas, proper documentation, and airline tickets. Yet they never made it past immigration.

In the first four months of 2025 alone, over 3,500 Bangladeshis were denied entry to other countries and deported back to Bangladesh. These were not criminals or immigration violators. Many held legitimate tourist or visitor visas obtained through proper channels.

However, immigration officials in destination countries suspected that these travellers were entering on visitor visas with the intention of remaining longer and working illegally. This suspicion, whether justified or not, has created a crisis that affects thousands of aspiring migrants and genuine tourists alike.

The situation extended beyond Southeast Asia. In late September 2025, 52 Bangladeshis were deported from Italy, Austria, Greece, and Cyprus. On August 30, the UK deported 15 Bangladeshis for immigration violations.

Queues of Bangladeshis working abroad come home for holidays at Hazrat Shahjalal International Airport, Dhaka, Bangladesh. Image via Flickr by zol m. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

A Bangladeshi NGO professional named Farzana was heading to Colombo for a work-related conference when immigration officers subjected her to degrading questioning. Despite carrying complete documentation, she was immediately subject to suspicion solely because of her passport. Her story echoes the experiences of countless others who endure extended questioning, prolonged waiting periods, and demeaning treatment at international airports.

Thousands of Bangladeshi travelers grapple with a troubling reality: legitimate visa holders with proper documentation are being denied entry at airports. This problem stems from a tangled combination of international distrust, historical violations, and intensified monitoring by border control agencies.

Border officials raise immediate concerns when Bangladeshis arrive on temporary visas while showing minimal funds, uncertain itineraries, or conflicting paperwork. Authorities recognize that temporary visas have become a common pathway to unauthorized employment opportunities abroad.

Through accumulated experience with unauthorized migration patterns, certain destination countries have built sophisticated detection frameworks that flag certain traveler profiles.

Misuse of visitor visas for work-related migration

When temporary visas get exploited for employment-seeking migration, the fallout extends well beyond individual hardships. The repercussions cascade through Bangladesh’s economic structure, social fabric, and global reputation in ways that undermine national progress.

Several Gulf and Southeast Asian nations have either completely blocked or severely limited Bangladeshi worker entry, offering no definite reopening dates. Bangladesh has achieved minimal success in reopening these markets despite ongoing diplomatic discussions and senior-level meetings.

The UAE, which ranks as Bangladesh’s second-most important labor destination in Western Asia, has maintained restrictive policies since 2013. While migration numbers recovered somewhat after 2021, the figures tell a concerning story: from 101,000 workers in 2022 and 98,000 in 2023, the number plummeted to merely 47,000 in 2024. Following demonstrations by some migrants in support of domestic quota reform protests, the UAE discreetly tightened the issuance of visitor and employment visas for Bangladeshis in July 2024.

Malaysian authorities halted Bangladeshi worker recruitment in May 2024 following revelations about unethical recruitment practices. Oman shut down worker entry from Bangladesh in September 2024, citing an excess labor supply and document forgery. The Maldives similarly stopped processing visas in 2024 after identifying procedural violations.

According to Mohammad Jalal Uddin Sikder, who specializes in labor migration and mobility issues, many legal migrants and tourists lack a proper understanding of regulations. Recruitment agencies provide misleading guidance, promote fraudulent documentation, and government awareness campaigns remain inadequate.

Bangladesh demonstrates remarkable diplomatic passivity when addressing these restrictions. Reports allege that Foreign missions typically respond to visa suspensions with quiet acceptance or routine procedural discussions rather than assertive strategic diplomacy. There is minimal visible initiative to rebuild international confidence or demonstrate improvements in regulatory systems and migration oversight.

Despite maintaining one of the world’s largest migrant worker populations, the nation’s diplomatic offices have often failed to negotiate mutual visa arrangements or enhanced mobility frameworks.

Declining importance of passports and national credibility

The most recent Henley Passport Index 2025 places Bangladesh at the 100th position — representing its worst ranking in recent memory — alongside North Korea. This sharp deterioration signals a profound decline in how the international community views Bangladesh’s credibility.

Stories involving Bangladeshi nationals, visa violations, unauthorized stays, and document forgery have become relatively common throughout Asia, Europe, and the Middle East. Countries that previously welcomed Bangladeshi visitors now impose stricter entry requirements.

Singapore, Malaysia, and Thailand have introduced additional verification procedures, while the United Arab Emirates silently halted most visa categories for Bangladeshis in 2025. Each policy change, though seemingly isolated, contributes to an accumulated erosion of international confidence that determines passport strength.

Every Bangladeshi passport holder approaching an immigration checkpoint carries an invisible burden of global suspicion. Years of dispersed incidents have gradually constructed this suspicion, which immigration staff and foreign officials now apply indiscriminately to an entire nationality.

Destination country immigration services show heightened caution regarding Bangladeshis entering on visitor categories that might conceal intentions for unauthorized work or trafficking situations. Following the discovery that a migrant recruitment network involving six Malaysian firms had transported hundreds of workers using falsified documents, bypassing the government procedural system, Malaysian officials substantially strengthened their verification protocols. Workers connected to these fraudulent operations found themselves abandoned, and subsequent groups of Bangladeshi arrivals began facing wholesale distrust.

The situation has worsened since the July 2024 uprising in Bangladesh. The protests and instability prompted other governments to perceive the country as a potential source of asylum applicants, triggering more rigorous visa examinations.

Denmark’s recent restrictions targeting Bangladeshi and Nepali students demonstrate this apprehension. Danish officials claim that numerous students from these nations exploit educational opportunities as a “backdoor” to the Danish labor market.

A path forward to restore credibility and protect migrants

The airport turnback crisis is not an immigration problem that can be solved through stricter visa requirements. It is fundamentally a crisis of national integrity and institutional failure.

The international community’s growing distrust of Bangladeshi travelers is not baseless prejudice but a rational response to years of documented visa abuse, trafficking, and irregular migration.

Yet this distrust punishes the innocent alongside the guilty, denying legitimate travelers, students, businesspeople, and tourists the mobility their counterparts from other nations enjoy without question.

Abdusattor Esoev, chief of mission of the International Organization of Migration (IOM), suggested that addressing migration challenges demands a coordinated, comprehensive response involving government, civil society, international organizations, and the private sector.