On Saturday, 26 September, the Jatiya Samajtantrik Dal (JSD), a socialist party, was holding its central representatives' meeting at its headquarters in Gulistan, in the heart of Dhaka. The JSD says it had notified the Dhaka Metropolitan Police commissioner, the deputy commissioner for the Motijheel division and the local Paltan police station in writing on 23 and 24 September. The party Added that they have copies bearing “received” stamps and signatures. The police say they know of no such application. What happened next raises a question larger than the fate of one political meeting.Before the police operation began, activists from the local units of Jubo Dal, Swechhasebak Dal and Chhatra Dal—the BNP's youth, volunteer and student wings—surrounded the building. Rabiul Islam Nayon, a central joint general secretary of Jubo Dal, told reporters that information had reached them that morning through their “network”, that they informed the authorities, and that the authorities then arrived.The JSD says its members were attacked. Jubo

Dal denies attacking anyone. Several videos circulating on social media appear to show participants being physically assaulted in the presence of police, although the available footage does not by itself establish the full sequence of events.The police then moved in. Nearly 300 people were taken to the police station in prison vans. Among them was Abu Jafar Surjo, a former president of the Dhaka Union of Journalists.The Motijheel deputy commissioner explained the action in one sentence:“We took them to the police station for their own safety.”That sentence should make us pause.If the people inside the building needed protection, who posed the threat? * Who has the right to assemble?The first question concerns Jubo Dal. Under what law can one party's affiliate besiege the lawful meeting of another? Article 37 of the Constitution guarantees every citizen the right to assemble peacefully and without arms, subject to reasonable restrictions imposed by law. Political activists do not acquire an additional power to decide…

Editorial Analysis re-published from TBR Bangladesh held its election amid serious constitutional violations, erosion of the rule of law, and persistent human rights abuses. This moment was not merely procedural; for many citizens, it became a struggle for political survival. Those who devoted their lives to liberating and building Bangladesh have faced renewed pressure from forces seeking to establish faith-based rule. They sided with Islamic Republic of Pakistan against the liberal-minded citizens of their own homeland. Many leaders of these hardline Islamist groups are linked to individuals implicated in the 1971 genocide. The July 2024 movement, often called a “colour revolution,” openly defied constitutional governance, the rule of law, and the legacy of Bangladesh’s liberation leadership. The Awami League, pro-liberation activists, ordinary supporters, and the Hindu community have been criminalized and subjected to arbitrary violence, mass arrests, false legal cases, and extortion of land and businesses. To date, nearly fifty Awami League leaders have died in prison without their cases reaching

court, many reportedly while still in handcuffs. Over a thousand grass-roots activists have been killed, and hundreds of thousands remain fugitives, with many deprived of their education at universities and medical colleges. That rupture triggered a violent period now exceeding sixteen months, marked by widespread repression and institutional breakdown. Hundreds of elected parliamentarians remain imprisoned, while the Prime Minister continues to live in exile under credible threats. The country’s largest political party has been barred from participation, and mass arrests have targeted its supporters. Under these conditions, the meaning of electoral consent and democratic legitimacy demands urgent re-examination. Bangladesh’s election now raises serious legitimacy concerns. Constitutional uncertainty, a history of unprecedented violence, and reported irregularities cast doubt on international observation and democratic credibility. The Washington Examiner reported that Bangladesh’s 2024 crisis began with student protests that escalated into deadly violence and were subsequently misread by key international actors. With the parliamentary election now concluded, the central question has shifted from anticipation to…

In the early nineties, Shahbagh dawned pale and mysterious. It rose like an ancient city from rice-washed waters. Streets glistened as if inked with dust from Nawabi bakharkhani and ashes. Stalls at crossings exhaled jasmine, tuberose, marigold. Restaurants thickened the air with parata, paya, dim vaja, and dal vuna. Rickshaws and cars rattled past like iron insects. From the crossing, standing before PG Hospital toward TSC, you saw the Northern Road slip toward Bangla Academy and the Science Building. It carried students, teachers, people — and the hushed footsteps of history itself. By nine o’clock, rickshaws jostled for space. The campus pulsed with the life of a nation anchored at Shahbagh. Dhaka University and Shahbagh bore history’s cruelty. They witnessed resistance, oppression, survival, and pride. Shahbagh was never just a marketplace for flowers, food, books, and medicine. It was also an altar of ideas and creative dreams. Writers and thinkers debated over tea, killing kings and generals with words. The tar on the streets around TSC drank blood every decade — not of clerics’, but

of young dreamers’. Socialist Student Union members, Student League, Secular bloggers, DU professors bled on its pavements, etching a red chapter in the history the city could not wash away. Assassins silenced voices one by one. When they struck my teacher, Dr. Humayun Azad, they carved permanent hatred into his face. He survived but lived only half in this world, until death claimed him in a German twilight, six months later. DU Student Union's 2025 election became a theatre. Rigged stages allowed supporters of Avijit Roy’s killers to take their seats. Since July 2024, 761 armed zealots, along with Jamaat-Shibir and the Islamic Alliance, have been roaming freely in the country, plotting a Caliphate on soil that had chosen freedom a hundred years earlier. A sharp question remains: why did no cleric fall to these assassins? Silence answers. It shows whose hands guided the knives and who threw the bombs and grenades. Many forces contended for Bangladesh’s soul, but none gnawed like the venom of religious politics led by Moudusit, Salafist Jamat E Islam, Islamic…

1. Early rainy season’s subtle steps was felt in the hot, humid afternoon in Dhaka on August 21, 2004. Bangladesh. The sun hung low on the horizon, shadows of people and everything around them stretched long across Dhaka’s bustling Bangabandhu Avenue. The city's pulse beat fervently as thousands convened for the peace rally of Awami League— a party accustomed to the shadow of political strife since 1949-announced its stand against violence. Their rally was initially planned for Muktangon, the venue shifted to the broad crossroads near the Party headquarters after the permission for Muktangon was not available. The megacity's atmosphere mirrored the rally's intent—solemn yet resolute. At the heart of the gathering, Sheikh Hasina, the leader of the Awami League, stood on a truck. Encircled by leaders spanning generations of the party, she addressed the crowd with a voice of steely determination, condemning terrorism and championing justice and democracy. Waves of supporters, brandishing banners and flags, cheered her on, their

hope defying the precarious political climate. At precisely 5:22 PM, the air buzzed with anticipation as Sheikh Hasina concluded her speech with the defiant cry, “Joy Bangla, Joy Bangabandhu.” "I had barely completed my speech and was going to get down from the truck when I heard a big bang and the next moment blood splashed on my body." The ear-splitting explosion of a grenade detonated just yards from Hasina's podium sent a cascade of shrapnel into the crowd and shattered the assembly's energy. Chaos erupted. Screams of terror mingled with the acrid smell of gunpowder as panic swept through the sea of people, scattering them like leaves in a gale. 2. In a swift and seamless motion, leaders around Sheikh Hasina formed a protective human shield with a singular, instinctive resolve, their outstretched arms defying the onslaught and helping her get into the car with security personnel. Time seemed to suspend; the explosion's echo lingered in the air as…

The OHCHR MoU and the US NDA aren’t isolated events—they’re interlocking tools in a new strategy to turn Bangladesh into a geopolitical corridor. Under the guise of rights and trade, they erode sovereignty, silence resistance, and open the floodgates to foreign control. This isn’t partnership. It’s prelude to possession—with a handshake, not a hammer.

Introduction: Sovereignty by Stealth In July 2025, two international agreements quietly positioned themselves at the heart of Bangladesh’s geopolitical destiny. One was a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) signed between Bangladesh and the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR), granting the UN body a permanent presence in Dhaka. The other was a leaked draft of a proposed Non-Disclosure Agreement (NDA) between Bangladesh and the United States, setting the terms for deepened bilateral cooperation—on Washington’s terms. Individually, these instruments might seem routine. Together, they chart the contours of a new and dangerous architecture: Bangladesh as a "corridor nation"—a strategic conduit for Western security and economic interests, locked in from within by humanitarian oversight and from without by asymmetrical trade and security arrangements. This is a story not of occupation by force, but by framework. I. The OHCHR MoU: Human Rights or Hegemony? At first glance, the OHCHR’s new Dhaka office appears to be a benign institutional step—an

extension of international support for Bangladesh’s human rights obligations. Yet this MoU arrives in the aftermath of a political transition shaped by foreign pressure and domestic unrest. Its timing is more than symbolic; it is strategic. The OHCHR’s February 2025 report on protest-related violence conspicuously sidestepped key facts, including attacks on law enforcement and public property. Notably absent were the deaths of police officers and the documented instigation of violence by opposition-aligned groups. By legitimizing a one-sided narrative, the OHCHR's presence becomes more than observational—it becomes constitutive. It reframes political violence as civilian resistance and erases the culpability of coordinated agitators. What’s more troubling is the legal immunity granted under the MoU. UN officials enjoy broad protections under international conventions, often beyond the reach of local judicial oversight. In effect, the OHCHR becomes an untouchable actor within Bangladesh's borders, with privileged access to state institutions, data, and civil society—and no local accountability. While the MoU’s full text has not been…

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