Image description

MOLOCH, also known as Molech, was a deity worshipped by the ancient Canaanites and Phoenicians. The name is believed to derive from the Hebrew word ‘Melech,’ meaning ‘King.’ The worship of Moloch involved elaborate rituals, including the offering of children as burnt sacrifices. Archaeological evidence in Carthage, present-day Tunisia, as well as the Valley of Hinnom near Jerusalem, supports the existence of these practices. This theme of sacrificial devotion has persisted through history and is reflected in literature such as John Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost,’ which explores the biblical fall of man and Satan’s rebellion. The Old Testament explicitly warns against such worship, labelling it an abomination, while the New Testament reinforces the prohibition against idolatry. In Islamic literature, idolatry, or ‘shirk,’ is regarded as an unpardonable sin, a perspective I have understood throughout my life. While widespread in religions such as Hinduism and Buddhism (where statues of the Buddha serve as focal points for meditation rather than objects of worship), the notion of blind veneration extends beyond religious spheres and into the political realm.

This context is crucial in understanding my interactions with members of the Bangladesh Awami League. A particular conversation from 2019 remains ingrained in my memory. Following the heavily contested and widely criticised December 2018 election, I discussed its implications with senior colleagues in Toronto. Our debate lasted over an hour, but one statement stood out: ‘Whatever you say, Sheikh Hasina is better than all other leaders in Bangladesh. She is the best.’ Such unwavering loyalty arises in two ways — through material gain or blind faith. When this faith evolves into a belief in the infallibility of an individual, it becomes idolatry. Many AL supporters still consider Sheikh Hasina the saviour of Bangladesh, a conviction evident in pro-AL social media circles.


However, the reality is far bleaker. Sheikh Hasina has overseen a regime of systematic oppression, evidenced by her direct orders to suppress and kill protesting youth across Bangladesh. Volker Turk, the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, has documented crimes committed during the July 2024 uprising. Hasina is not merely the architect of a 15-year autocratic rule but also a key asset in India’s hegemonic strategy to keep Bangladesh subservient. Her administration has effectively silenced opposition, curtailed freedom of expression, and manipulated the justice system. One glaring example is the treatment of Khaleda Zia, the opposition leader imprisoned on dubious charges.

Furthermore, Hasina’s government has institutionalised a form of political reverence akin to idol worship. Public servants and schoolchildren have been coerced into rituals that glorify her family. The state has allocated Tk400 crores (approximately $34 million) to erect statues of her father across Bangladesh, while public institutions have been renamed to honour her lineage. Elections at both local and national levels have been systematically rigged, and loyalty to the party has become the sole criterion for public appointments. Meanwhile, Hasina has surrendered vital national interests to India, signing unequal agreements on river water sharing, electricity importation, and intelligence cooperation. The consequence of such policies is the emergence of a dangerous, unquestioning faction within AL — one that can be easily mobilised to destabilise Bangladesh at the behest of foreign interests. These individuals are not only a threat to domestic stability but to the very sovereignty of the nation.

Sheikh Hasina is fallible, a reality substantiated by public experience, independent reporting, institutional assessments, and legal scrutiny. Yet, to AL loyalists, she remains an untouchable figure, immune to criticism. The deaths of 1,600 youths in the July movement and the 22,000 injured protestors mean nothing to them. This suggests a willingness to commit further violence to sustain the cult of Hasina. Any critique is met with hostility; in their view, no one may speak ill of the ‘saviour.’ This phenomenon is not restricted to grassroots AL supporters but extends to accomplished academics. Such a political cult is dangerous, posing a long-term risk to Bangladesh’s stability. A single provocation could trigger a riot or civil war, jeopardising the country’s sovereignty.

On the other side of the political spectrum, the Bangladesh Nationalist Party remains vulnerable to external manipulation through bribes, coercion, and false promises of power. India’s intelligence agency, the Research and Analysis Wing, can exploit BNP’s weaknesses in AL’s favour. BNP has failed to consolidate public support due to its history of corruption, lack of vision, and inability to hold AL accountable. It appears politically impotent and too fragmented to function as a viable alternative.

Meanwhile, Bangladesh’s left-wing factions are a spent force. They lost public relevance decades ago and now merely engage in virtue-signalling, clinging to outdated ideals. The electorate has moved on, mirroring trends seen in the west, where conservative victories have sidelined socialist movements. While the left may act as a catalyst for progressive causes, it lacks the political strength to drive a mass movement independently now.

Religious political groups, however, remain a wildcard. Though historically not the first choice for Bangladeshi voters, these factions are well-organised and ideologically driven. Secularists cannot dismiss them outright; instead, they must acknowledge their political significance. The AL has long manipulated these groups for its own ends, whether in the 1987 elections or the joint movement against BNP in 1995–96. The reciprocal relationship between AL and religious parties could create an explosive dynamic, particularly as faith-based groups are highly susceptible to external influence. This presents a serious risk to Bangladesh’s future, as foreign powers could exploit these factions for geopolitical advantage.

A new political force is emerging — the student activists and the heroes of the July uprising. They have studied the past and understand the stakes. However, the political landscape in Bangladesh is fraught with dangers, akin to a minefield where a single misstep could have catastrophic consequences. These young leaders must rapidly acquire the political acumen necessary to navigate an environment dominated by entrenched interests and shifting alliances.

Ultimately, it is the people of Bangladesh who bear the burden. The political elite are engaged in a reckless game of brinkmanship, with the nation’s fate hanging in the balance. The game of chicken may be amusing in theory, but in practice, it is perilous. Worse still, when one side consists of political idolaters, the path forward becomes protracted, volatile, and bloody — a prospect that should deeply concern us all.

ANK Mizan is a professor at School of Business at the Conestoga College, ON, Canada.