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The euphoria of August 5 was marred by incidents of violence including attacks on minorities and supporters of the former government, rampant looting and burning of houses and establishments associated with the Awami League regime. Mobs attacked police and some perished under their wrath; police stations were burnt to the ground. The result was a general feeling of insecurity as police became reluctant to perform their duties, fearing for their safety. In the wake of all the uncertainty and mutual mistrust, how can we come to a state of peace and normalcy?
MAISHA ISLAM MONAMEE
Student of Institute of Business Administration (IBA) at the University of Dhaka
The recent resurfacing of videos and images from the police crackdown during the anti-discrimination student movement has plunged us into a deep reckoning. These records, apparently captured during the internet shutdown, unveil the extent of the brutality unleashed upon innocent protesters—students, civilians, and activists who dared to raise their voices. As we watch the horrific footage of police officers opening fire on unarmed citizens and dumping their dead bodies like sacks, it is impossible to not feel a profound sense of betrayal. The police force, funded by our money, was meant to protect us, not the interests of a ruling party. But in those moments, they became agents of oppression, leaving an entire generation traumatised.
The trauma inflicted by these events runs deep. For many of us, the police are no longer the first responders in times of crisis but are seen as a threat and an instrument of violence that could be turned against us at any moment. This fear is not unfounded—it is born out of real experiences, documented in videos that are now indelibly etched into our collective memory, triggering a visceral response of fear, disgust, and disbelief. The images of bloodied students, the sound of gunfire, and the sight of lifeless bodies have left us questioning whether we can ever trust those who were supposed to protect us.
To understand the depth of this betrayal, we must remember the fundamental role of the police in a democracy. The police are not meant to serve the interests of any political party or government; they are meant to serve the people. Their salaries are paid by taxpayers—by us. It is our money that funds their operations, and it is in our name that they are supposed to act. When the police turn their weapons on the very citizens they are sworn to protect, they are not only betraying their oath but also misusing the resources provided by the people. This breach of trust is egregious because it undermines the very foundation of our society. The rule of law is essential for the functioning of any democracy. When the enforcers of the law become violators of it, the entire system is called into question. How can we, as a society, have faith in the justice system when those responsible for upholding it are seen as perpetrators of violence?
To begin addressing this trauma, there must be a collective acknowledgment of what happened. The interim government must take steps to ensure that the truth is not buried, that the stories of the victims are heard, and that those responsible for the violence are held accountable. This is not just about punishing the perpetrators; it is about sending a message that such actions will not be tolerated, and that the state stands with the people, not against them.
It goes without saying that rebuilding trust in the police force will be a monumental task. The first step must be a complete overhaul of the police force—one that addresses both the structural issues and the culture of impunity that has taken root. This means implementing rigorous accountability measures, ensuring that those who abuse their power are swiftly and publicly punished, and creating mechanisms for independent oversight of police actions. The police must be taught to see themselves not as enforcers of the state’s will but as protectors of the people. This shift in mindset is crucial if we are to restore any semblance of trust in the institution.
The trauma, disgust, and fear that we feel today are valid responses to the horrors we have witnessed. But we must channel these emotions into action—into demanding reform, into building a police force that we can trust, and into creating a society where such atrocities can never happen again. It is time to reclaim the police force for the people, to rebuild it into an institution that serves and protects us all.
JYOTIRMOY BARUA
Advocate, Supreme Court of Bangladesh
After the jubilation following the fall of Sheikh Hasina, we saw the horrors of the nights of August 5—how houses were set on fire, vandalised and looted, and no one was prepared for that. For some unknown reasons, the army disappeared from the streets. Whose decision was that, and why was it done? From different individual sources, we heard that the army did not have enough human resources or they were not prepared for the ensuing chaos, but we have not received an explanation from any official sources yet.
Had there been army vehicles in the streets, or if people knew that army platoons were patrolling the streets, then these incidents could have been avoided. The arson attack at the Bangabandhu Memorial on Road 32, and other state institutions, such as the Shishu Academy, could have been avoided. Also, individual attacks, neighbourhood robberies could have been addressed.
As a result, the general public suffered the most and are still suffering. We heard from different Hindu businesses how Jamaat or BNP activists carried out extortion, threatening arson attacks on warehouses with goods worth lakhs of taka. In some places, the business owners tried to manage the situation by giving money to the goons; in other areas, they could not and their houses and businesses were attacked and looted. Well-off Hindu households and even impoverished Hindu families in neighbourhoods were individually targeted only because of their religious identity. In many cases, these families did not even dare to go to the media to report these attacks.
The attacks on some police stations, as well as families of police personnel, have been so severe that many are too afraid to get involved in anything. Because of my personal contact with several police officers, I have tried to find out how they are feeling. A lot of people within the police are traumatised—they need counselling. It is important to find a way to help them get back to work.
But let me be clear: we do not want to see anyone, who has been identified as a perpetrator in the mass killings, involved in any work of the state. It is not enough to merely suspend them for their crimes. It is very important to set an example by trying them and bringing them to book to create public confidence. The previous regimes always ignored these issues.
Not every action performed in uniform, be it of the police or any other security agency, is legal. I want to reiterate that we need to come out of the culture of taking only administrative actions against someone who commits a crime while wearing a police uniform. We need to try such perpetrators under criminal offences just like a layperson is tried. This has to be brought under the purview of our existing laws. If restrictions exist in the current laws, those have to be removed and new provisions for trying law enforcers must be incorporated.