Bangladesh’s recurring political upheavals have fostered a cynical assumption that every change of power permits a systemic reversal of the moral order. Yesterday’s heroes are routinely branded today’s traitors, while former victims acquire authority only to deploy the precise mechanisms of coercion previously used against them.
Such cycles merely redistribute fear across an exhausted electorate instead of establishing justice.
This destructive mindset threatens the foundational principles of a constitutional state. A resilient society must allow robust, unvarnished debates regarding its history, including uncomfortable questions about revered figures, political movements, and contested judicial proceedings. But the freedom to contest a reputation cannot translate into a license to persecute a family or desecrate the deceased.
Political affiliations and courtroom testimony remain open to legitimate historiographical and legal scrutiny. The right to a dignified burial probably does not.
When political vengeance targets judicial witnesses and their surviving families, the systemic damage extends far beyond the bounds of an individual tragedy. A legal framework relies entirely upon citizens willing to provide evidence without fear of retribution.
If testifying before a tribunal creates a lifelong political liability—or exposes surviving relatives to posthumous harassment—future witnesses will simply choose silence. A justice system cannot function when telling the truth depends entirely on whichever partisan faction currently controls the street.
The real-world consequences of this systemic decay were recently captured in a single, harrowing image: three women standing in darkness, digging a grave by the dim glow of their mobile phones. One handled the spade while the others cleared the displaced earth with their bare hands. They were not attempting to conceal a crime, they were simply trying to bury a family member in his ancestral home.
The deceased was Manik Pashari, a resident of Pirojpur who had previously testified before the International Crimes Tribunal against Delawar Hossain Sayeedi, a senior leader of Jamaat-e-Islami convicted of crimes against humanity committed during Bangladesh's 1971 Liberation War. According to local reports, political activists obstructed the funeral,challenged the deceased’s credentials as a freedom fighter, and actively intimidated surviving relatives. For long hours,the body reportedly remained stranded inside an ambulance while the partisan dispute escalated. Ultimately, it fell upon the man's daughter and sisters to dig his grave under the cover of night.
Local party representatives subsequently denied obstructing the burial, accusing the deceased of having delivered false testimony years earlier. Yet evaluating judicial credibility and weighing evidence is the exclusive duty of presiding judges,not local political cadres. If legitimate allegations of perjury existed, they belonged inside a courtroom, pursued through established procedural channels.
Neither historical grievance nor partisan disagreement grants private citizens or political mobs the legal authority to halt a funeral or demand political penance from a grieving household.
This incident reflects a fundamental, alarming failure of public authority. Guaranteeing elementary public order at a funeral is among the most basic duties of local administration and law enforcement.
The state need not endorse a deceased citizen’s political affiliations, validate his personal history, or resolve ongoing historical controversies in order to guarantee his peaceful interment; it must simply enforce the law of the land without prejudice.
When local law enforcement permits political mobs to dictate the terms of a funeral, public authority abdicates its core duty to street-level intimidation.
The implications for Bangladesh’s ongoing political transition are severe. The nation is currently attempting to navigate a delicate period of institutional reform and legal accountability following years of authoritarian overreach. Rebuilding democratic institutions requires creating an environment where public testimony can be delivered safely, where legal processes are insulated from partisan shifts, and where fundamental human rights are guaranteed unconditionally.
If legal proceedings are viewed merely as temporary tools of political vanquishment—to be systematically undone or punished the moment political fortunes invert—the concept of judicial accountability loses all credibility.
Furthermore, allowing partisan conflict to violate traditional customs surrounding death strikes at the civilisational fabric of the society itself. Historically, even during periods of intense political polarization, the sanctity of funeral rites provided a shared boundary that transcended partisan disputes.
Dismantling that boundary signals a dangerous descent into total political warfare, where no sphere of human life remains safe from ideological conflict.
The stark image of three women digging earth in the dark presents Bangladesh with an elementary, inescapable test of governance. Can an ordinary citizen die without requiring permission or absolution from his political adversaries? Until the answer to that question is an unambiguous yes, the nation's grand declarations regarding institutional reform,democratic restoration, and the rule of law will remain fundamentally unfulfilled.
The strength of a republic is measured not by the rhetoric of its leadership during political triumphs, but by its capacity to protect the basic dignity of its most vulnerable citizens against the wrath of the mob.
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Siam Sarower Jamil is a PhD candidate. He can be reached at siam33jamil@gmail.com