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SUCH sky-high expectations were impossible to meet, even by a hugely popular government led by an internationally respected Nobel Laureate. The student-led people’s uprising had removed a murderous tyrant who had left behind a nation in shambles. The judiciary, the police, the bureaucracy, the military and even academia had all been completely politicised. Fifteen years of misrule is not something anyone could fix overnight. The vicious misinformation campaign fueled by neighbouring India made governance even more difficult. We weren’t looking for miracles, but we did want the train to be heading towards the right station.

Yes, we desperately wanted the interim government to succeed, but we were genuinely concerned. The failure to attend to the injured and the families of the martyred, the failure to keep prices in check, and perhaps most importantly, the increase in violence were telling signs. The internal bickering and the lack of a clear sense of direction were worrying. Yes, there was far greater freedom of expression than at any other time in our history. Extra judicial killings, disappearances, and wrongful arrests had gone down dramatically (though they are now on the increase). Numerous reform commissions had submitted their findings. It was the decidedly missing implementation and the clear lack of direction that worried us. Unless dramatic shifts took place, the honeymoon would soon be over.

‘Sir, how many bullets does it take to kill a boy? Sir, my son is dead. His chest is riddled with bullet holes. He is no more.’ As he held his son Imam Hossain Taim’s limp body, sub inspector Moynal Hossain was heard talking to his superior. He was employed in the same police force. Imam had joined the protests in secret, much against his parent’s wishes. Six-year-old Riya Gope was playing on the rooftop of their family’s four-story building when the shooting began. Her father Dipak grabbed her in his arms as he rushed inside. He was too late. A bullet to her head ended Riya’s play. A video of a policeman shooting a protester repeatedly as he clung outside a window of a building went viral. Policemen piling up bodies of people onto a rickshaw van, some alive, some dead, and then setting them all on fire are some of the images etched into Bangladesh’s public memory.Ìý

I know of entire families that have disappeared, andÌýI’ve seen lives erased with targeted precision — an eye struck by a single pellet, the signature of state-sanctioned murder.Ìý

Freedom, I’ve learned, is often taken slowly rather than all at once. One day you wake up and wonder how so many rights could have vanished so quietly.

In Bangladesh, the struggle for democracy has come at a devastating cost. In the three weeks leading up to Hasina’s downfall last year,Ìýat least 1,400 peopleÌýwere slaughtered by government security forces for participating in student-led protests demanding reform of the government quota system for public service recruitment. The seeds of rebellion grew each time a life was taken, each time a critic disappeared. And on August 5, she was booted out of Bangladesh.

In an inquiry released this month, the UN said that Sheikh Hasina’s Awami League’s systematic attacks may constitute crimes against humanity and has called for urgent further criminal investigation. But the Awami League remains officially registered and could still run in the next election, set for late 2025 or early 2026.

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Earlier this month, protesters vandalised and set fire to Hasina’s former family home, as well as those of other members of her party, calling them ‘sites of fascism’. Watching this continuing unrest — fueled by the residual anger of our people and fanned by those connected to the previous regime —Ìý reminds me of how tenuous our liberties can be.

But Hasina’s power lingers, even internationally. For example, the UK prime minister, Keir Starmer, met a senior member of Bangladesh’s ousted ruling party in December at an event for Labour party backers. Many fear that if the interim government hesitates or bows to pressure, Bangladesh could fall back into the same cycle of repression. The mass arrests during Operation Devil Hunt, and the 17 custodial deaths in the last 5 months, while pale in comparison to Hasina’s time, is certainly not what a government with a mandate to restore human rights should be known for.

A UN investigation into last year’s killings underscores how deep the rot runs. Families still seek answers for loved ones shot in the streets, yet obtaining justice is difficult. Government insiders talk of the impracticality of a complete purge. How does one replace an entire bureaucracy? Fifteen years of corruption cannot be undone overnight.Ìý The newly appointed cabinet, unfamiliar with the territory finds it difficult to navigate a terrain where culprits remain in positions to block real inquiries.

To some people in the West, Bangladesh’s ongoing struggle might seem distant. But this fight for democracy, accountability, and freedom of speech is universal. The global rise of authoritarianism, Trump in USA, Mertz in Germany, Netanyahu being allowed unhindered travel to both these countries despite arrest warrants against him by the ICC, are worrying signs of the times to come.Ìý

Money, media and muscle have always influenced politics, but never before has it been so nakedly exhibited. AI and algorithms in the hands of the super-rich and their proximity to the apex of power is not unique to any one nation. Never before have the battle lines been so clearly drawn. Never before have so many red lines been crossed. Never before has hate speech been so weaponised by the power-hungry.

After more than a decade in power, Hasina’s reign crumbled under the weight of her arrogance: she rigged elections, crushed opposition, and frittered away her support until rebellion became inevitable.

Neither Hasina, now in exile in India, nor state minister Arafat, who fled to the US, nor have any of Hasina’s followers uttered a word of remorse for what the UN has classified as crimes against humanity. India propped up her regime for fifteen years. Yunus is now seeking her extradition so she can face justice.

Her’s is a cautionary tale for any leader tempted to define truth on their own terms and to cast the opposition as ‘enemies’ — actions that undermine democracy’s foundations.

For years, Hasina’s administration maintained a veneer of stability while resting on fear and censorship. Regimes such as these offer a stark warning: authoritarian measures do not create lasting peace, stability or popularity. Instead, they erode public trust and plant the seeds of rebellion.Ìý

The interim government in Dhaka must uphold its promises to hold perpetrators accountable and empower Bangladeshi people to choose their leaders freely. Otherwise, it risks breeding the same discontent that made Hasina’s downfall inevitable. The same is true anywhere else. When leaders erode institutions meant to safeguard rights, those rights can vanish before most people even realise they’re gone.

Genuine change demands unrelenting pressure from civil society, leaders who respect the law, and an international community that refuses to ignore atrocities. The UN inquiry must be taken seriously, and those responsible for last year’s bloodshed must face justice to end the cycle of violence.

Bangladesh’s story speaks to anyone around the world fighting for the soul of a democracy.

We cannot dismiss abuses abroad as someone else’s problem. If there is a single certainty, it is that free societies depend on ordinary people who refuse to accept silence and fear. Bangladesh has shown that even the most entrenched regimes can fall when citizens unite to defend their rights. ÌýPeople do have power. 

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Shahidul Alam is a photographer and activist.