State minister, your remarks are an embarrassment to the nation

Two Bangladeshi citizens were detained. An investigation was conducted, charges were filed, the case went to trial, a verdict was delivered, a higher authority upheld it, a royal decree was issued, and the death sentences were carried out. At no stage of this lengthy process, it appears, did the Bangladeshi state know what was happening. It learned of the executions from a statement by Saudi Arabia’s Interior Ministry and media reports—when Nazrul Islam Abdul Bashir and Siti Akter were already dead.

Then came the remarks of Shama Obaed, Bangladesh’s state minister for foreign affairs, who described the executions as a “major lesson” for expatriate Bangladeshis. They must obey the laws of the countries in which they live, she said. In the same statement, however, she acknowledged that the Saudi government had provided no detailed information, that Bangladesh’s diplomatic mission had not been informed, and that Dhaka had written to Riyadh seeking details.

In other words, the state has no case files, no detailed account of the charges and no information about whether the two citizens received legal assistance. Yet the conclusion has already been drawn: this is a lesson.
The question is: a lesson for whom?

Expatriates offered little more than a lecture
Nobody disputes that people living abroad must obey the laws of their host countries. But expatriate citizens do not look to a minister for moral lectures. They want to know whether their country will stand by them when they are in trouble. That is precisely why embassies and consulates exist.

Under the Vienna Convention on Consular Relations, when a foreign national is detained, the authorities are required to inform the person of their right to have their consulate notified without delay, if they so wish. The detained person also has the right to communicate with and meet consular officials. Saudi Arabia is a party to the convention.

This leaves two possible explanations, neither of which is reassuring.

The first is that Saudi authorities did not inform Bangladesh at any stage between the detention and the executions. If so, Dhaka should raise a formal diplomatic protest over the apparent failure to provide consular notification. Its first response should not be to declare that the deaths offer a lesson to other expatriates.

The second possibility is that information reached Bangladesh in some form, but the mission or its labour welfare wing failed to take it seriously or follow up. If that is what happened, the failure lies at home.

Officials within Bangladesh’s foreign ministry, speaking on condition of anonymity, have questioned how the executions could have been carried out so quickly after the detention. They have also asked why nobody acting on behalf of the two citizens contacted the mission.

These are legitimate questions. But the state minister’s remarks offer no answers. Instead, they deliver a warning to expatriate Bangladeshis.

How did the language of the allegations change?
Another aspect of the case deserves scrutiny. The Saudi Interior Ministry’s statement described the alleged offence vaguely as “immoral” or “indecent” conduct in a mosque. It did not clearly identify the mosque, explain precisely what had happened or establish the relationship between the two individuals. Foreign media reports also said it was unclear whether they were married.

Yet the Bangladeshi state minister publicly used the word “adultery”, citing a communication from the labour wing.

Without having the official case documents in hand, a senior government representative applied a serious moral label to two of her own country’s citizens. The burden of that label now falls on the dead and their families, who must bear not only grief but also the social stigma that can follow such allegations.

Is a state minister’s role to act as a mouthpiece for a foreign government’s account? Or is it to verify the facts, defend the rights of the country’s citizens and establish whether justice was served?

Ta’zir: a discretionary punishment
According to the Saudi statement, the executions were carried out under ta’zir, a category of discretionary punishment under Islamic law. It is distinct from hadd, the category of punishments prescribed for specific offences. In other words, the death penalty was not necessarily mandatory under the applicable legal framework; the court imposed the maximum punishment at its discretion.

How proportionate is a death sentence for alleged “immoral conduct” in which no one was killed or physically injured?

International human rights standards stipulate that the death penalty should be restricted to the “most serious crimes”, generally understood to mean crimes involving intentional killing. Bangladesh itself retains capital punishment, which limits its room to claim the moral high ground on the issue. But it is entirely legitimate to ask whether these two citizens had access to lawyers, whether interpreters were provided, whether they understood the language in which their statements were taken, and whether anyone represented them during appeals.

Calling the executions a “lesson” without knowing the answers effectively lends legitimacy to a judicial process that Bangladesh’s own government says it knows little about.

One video, the only evidence?
Reports in some media outlets suggest that the only evidence against the two individuals was a video recorded by a Pakistani national. If those reports are accurate, the lives of two people ultimately hinged on a scene captured on a mobile phone.

That raises a series of fundamental questions. How long was the video? What happened before and after the recorded scene? Was it edited or presented in fragments? Was it subjected to forensic examination? Why did the person recording it film the incident inside a mosque, and for what purpose? Did the person have any prior relationship, dispute or vested interest involving the accused? Did the court examine these questions? Were the defendants given an opportunity to challenge the footage and present their own account?

There is also a striking legal distinction to consider. Under classical Islamic jurisprudence, the evidentiary requirements for imposing the hadd punishment for adultery are exceptionally stringent, traditionally requiring four eyewitnesses or a valid voluntary confession. These safeguards are intended to prevent a person’s life or liberty from being placed at risk on the basis of suspicion, rumour or a single witness.

In this case, the punishment was reportedly imposed under ta’zir, rather than hadd, where the rules of evidence and judicial discretion differ. That raises a grave concern: if the strict evidentiary requirements associated with hadd did not apply, what standard of proof did the court use to justify the ultimate punishment? Was a single piece of digital evidence sufficient, and how was its reliability established?

A death sentence based on a single digital recording would raise serious questions in any judicial system. Yet Bangladesh, apparently unaware of the proceedings, did not seek a reassessment of the footage, request an independent forensic review or pursue clemency on the two citizens’ behalf.

Against that video, it seems, there was nobody effectively standing up for the two defendants.

What other countries do
Countries across the Middle East that send large numbers of workers abroad often pursue active diplomatic efforts to prevent the execution of their citizens. Such efforts can include appointing lawyers, monitoring court proceedings, seeking clemency at the highest political level and, where applicable, helping arrange diyah—financial compensation, often referred to as blood money. These are not unfamiliar practices in the region.

Countries that depend on overseas employment understand that the lives of their citizens are not matters to be treated lightly in diplomatic negotiations.

In 2010, a court in Dubai sentenced six Bangladeshi citizens to death over the killing of a Pakistani national. Bangladesh’s foreign ministry subsequently undertook intensive diplomatic efforts to secure their lives and bring them home. Why, then, did the ministry fail to intervene effectively in the present case?

Is the state minister’s lecture, along with the branding of the deceased as adulterers, an attempt to deflect attention from that failure?

Saudi Arabia is one of Bangladesh’s largest overseas labour markets. A substantial share of the country’s remittances comes from workers there. We call these expatriates “remittance warriors”. But when they find themselves in danger, and the state responds with little more than a lecture, the honorific becomes an empty ornament.

Two different responses in the same week
In the same week, two Bangladeshis were killed in an attack at an airport in Saudi Arabia. The state minister sought the Saudi ambassador’s assistance in bringing their bodies home promptly. That was an appropriate step.

But the tone changed when it came to the deaths of the two Bangladeshis in Makkah. In one case, bereaved workers received the state’s sympathy. In the other, citizens accused of an offence were turned into examples of moral failure.

Being accused of a crime does not strip anyone of the protection of their citizenship. If anything, a person facing trial in a foreign country, in an unfamiliar language and under an unfamiliar legal system, has an especially urgent need for their own state’s support.

What should have been done—and what can still be done

First, Bangladesh should go beyond simply writing to request information from Saudi authorities. It should formally raise its concerns over the apparent absence of consular notification and seek an explanation through diplomatic channels.

Second, the government should obtain and disclose, to the extent legally possible, the records of the entire process, from detention to execution. The public needs to know whether the two citizens received a fair trial.

Third, Dhaka should formally seek an explanation of how the video was authenticated and assessed in court, how the person who recorded it was questioned, and whether the recorder’s motives and possible interests were examined.

Fourth, an independent investigation should establish why the labour welfare wing at the Bangladesh Consulate in Jeddah and the embassy in Riyadh were apparently unaware of the case. If negligence occurred, responsibility must be assigned.

Fifth, the government should compile a comprehensive list of Bangladeshi citizens currently facing the death penalty or other severe sentences in Saudi Arabia and other Gulf countries. Each should have access to appropriate legal assistance and consular support.

Sixth, the state should maintain contact with the families, help them obtain information about the return of the bodies or the arrangements for burial, and deal with them sensitively to protect their dignity during an exceptionally painful time.

The real lesson
There is a lesson here, certainly. But it is far more relevant to the state than to expatriate workers.

Two citizens passed through every stage of a process—from detention to death—while their own government apparently remained in the dark. If this episode is to teach anyone anything, the first to learn must be the foreign ministry, the diplomatic missions responsible for protecting Bangladeshi citizens abroad, and the minister who appeared to accept the outcome before the relevant records had even arrived.

Expatriate workers help sustain Bangladesh’s economy. In return, they ask for one basic assurance: that when they are in danger, their country will know who they are and stand beside them.

Once that trust is broken, no lecture can put it back together.

Rased Mehedi
Editor, Views Bangladesh