When justice takes to streets, whose side is state on

A former student leader was publicly humiliated at Paltan in the capital. He was beaten and labelled a 'traitor'. The nature of his crime remains unclear, but the punishment was immediate—on the streets, in full view of the public.

This is not an isolated incident. Earlier, former Chief Election Commissioner KM Nurul Huda, also a valiant freedom fighter, was similarly manhandled by a group of people. From eggs thrown at him to garlands of shoes, beatings, and being surrounded in front of police—he endured it all. Condemnations came, statements were issued—but the responses remained symbolic. The reality is, we are moving towards a culture of 'public court'—where the state often becomes a spectator, and the people become judge, executioner, and punisher.

If one were to seek a "role model" of electoral rigging, it would begin with the 1994 Magura by-election. At the time, Chief Election Commissioner was Justice Abdur Rouf. The Awami League candidate was Mohammad Asaduzzaman. By using the administration and police as the ruling party, the electoral process was disgraced—this became the blueprint for all future rigged elections.

Immediately after came the controversial one-sided election of February 15, 1996. The BNP government appointed Justice Sadeq Ali as their favoured Chief Election Commissioner. His name became the basis of a then-popular political mockery: "Chhade-Kali". That parliament lasted only one and a half months. The people took to the streets, and eventually both the government and the commission fell.

In 2004, an election was held in Dhaka's 10th constituency. Allegations of rigging surfaced again. Through a fraudulent electoral process, BNP candidate Falu was declared the winner. The CEC at the time was Abu Syed. To the public, the Election Commission had become a symbol of 'proven and reliable partiality'.

Then came the infamous "January election" of 2007—which never took place. Instead, the President himself declared a military-backed state of emergency. Before that, Tarique Rahman had been declared “elected unopposed.” The Chief Election Commissioner was Justice Aziz. Slogans rose against him: "Aijja, tui bait ja!"

It originated in the voice of Suranjit Sengupta. That slogan became a symbol of Bangladesh's democratic pulse. But the question is: has any of these notorious Chief Election Commissioners ever been garlanded with shoes? Has anyone filed a case on behalf of the people against them? No, it hasn’t happened. And this is the tragic outcome of our state and democracy. The electoral system has collapsed time and again, but those who engineered that collapse have remained unscathed, unrepentant, and often even ‘honoured’.

In the 2018 national election, votes were cast during the previous night of the election day—this was admitted in court by former Chief Election Commissioner KM Nurul Huda. In his court testimony, he said various irregularities occurred due to direct interference by the Awami League. He later realised that intelligence agencies NSI and DGFI controlled the entire electoral system.

Those who are now speaking out, or exploding in anger at someone—it's necessary to examine their intent, their language, and their history of purpose. Since 1994, the same intelligence agencies and election commissions have been involved in rigged elections. The interim government must take a firm position on strict justice against them. Otherwise, they too will one day be questioned for bias.

Since the fall of the government in Bangladesh following the student-popular uprising on August 5, 2024, incidents of lawlessness and mobs taking justice into their own hands have increased. The terms 'mob' and 'mob justice' are being widely discussed in social media and newspapers. The English word 'mob' means 'unruly crowd'. Simply put, when such a crowd resorts to violence and takes the law into its own hands, it is called 'mob justice'.

This trend is not unique to Bangladesh. In India's Jharkhand, Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan, and Maharashtra, over the past decade, many Muslims, Dalits, and minority citizens have fallen victim to 'mob lynching' on accusations related to hurting religious sentiments. In Pakistan, misuse of blasphemy laws has led to many being killed by agitated mobs. In African countries like Nigeria and Kenya, or Latin American country Brazil, people have been killed by mobs based on accusations. According to Uganda’s “Justice Centres Uganda” project, mob justice involves punishing someone suspected of a crime by humiliating, beating, killing, or destroying property, without giving the accused a chance to defend themselves.

Articles 10 and 11 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights clearly state: every citizen has the right to a fair hearing in a neutral court and should be presumed innocent until proven guilty. This is the foundation of a civilised state.

Article 35(5) of the Constitution of Bangladesh states, "No person shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman, or degrading punishment or treatment." Article 27 says, "All citizens are equal before the law and are entitled to equal protection of the law." Article 31 further states that every citizen’s life and personal liberty shall be protected in accordance with the law.

The significance of these articles is critical here. Because if any accused person—whether guilty or innocent—is humiliated or assaulted by a mob, then their fundamental rights are violated. If the state fails to prevent this, the Constitution becomes a mere piece of paper.

The situation becomes more dire when law enforcement is present but does nothing. For example, in the incident involving the former Chief Election Commissioner, police were present, but did not intervene. According to media reports, one person was later arrested and handed over to police by the army. But he was released on bail the very next day. The incident created an uproar, then faded away.

Sections 323 (causing hurt), 355 (assault with intent to dishonour), and 143, 147, 149 (unlawful assembly and rioting) of the Bangladesh Penal Code provide for severe punishment in such incidents. Still, in most cases, the accused are not even arrested. And even if they are, there is no justice.

According to the Human Rights Support Society (HRSS), 119 people were killed in mob justice or beatings in the first seven months of 2025 alone. In 2024, the number was 179. This means on average 15 citizens per month were killed outside the law, in public fury. In the past 10 years, the number has reached 792. These numbers are not just statistics—each represents a broken family, a failure of justice.

World history also holds a brutal past of mob justice. In 1692, in Salem, USA, 20 people were hanged in public on suspicion of witchcraft. During the 1789 French Revolution, crowds stormed the Bastille fortress in Paris and beheaded many. After the 1994 genocide in Rwanda, many accused were punished by mobs instead of courts. These histories show: when the state fails to enforce the law, revenge becomes an alternative form of justice. And this form devours civilisation.

At the root of such mob violence lies political origins. Often, mobs are built under state patronage. In India’s 2018 Tehseen Poonawalla v. Union of India case, the Supreme Court clearly said: “Mob lynching is the biggest enemy of democracy.” The court instructed central and state governments to enact laws. But no such law exists in Bangladesh yet.

When the administration in Rangpur imposed Section 144 in response to the ‘Touhidi public’ threatening to stop women's football, it was clear the state was weaker than its own proclamation—its commitment to women’s rights. On one hand, pronouncement; on the other, defeat. From this duplicity arises fear. From fear arises a crisis of public trust.

There is a deep signal here—when society places more trust in revenge than in law, the state ceases to be a ‘people’s state’ and becomes a ‘party-state’. In such a state, it is not the law, but the ability to form mobs, that determines who is guilty, who is free. As during Pakistan’s Tehreek-e-Labbaik movement, many were killed in the name of blasphemy while the state remained silent.

In Uttar Pradesh, India, many minorities were killed by BJP-backed mobs under the pretext of cow protection. The spread of unconstitutional killings in any country reflects the weakness of its legal infrastructure. The is true for Bangladesh also. For years, we have failed to establish the ‘rule of law’. The evidence—disappearances, killings, retaliatory protests. It was to escape this culture that we imagined a new government. But now, can we brush off responsibility by merely saying “the police were inactive”?

Now, during sun and rain, tension and conflict, the police often sit under nearby shade, too afraid to face the public. Still, as we once said, we say again: deliver at least one verdict. Even one proper judgement could restrain the mindset of ‘doing whatever one pleases’. For how many years have the people chanted “We want justice, we want justice”—is one trial really so distant?

Here we stand at a crossroads of possibility. Now is the time for self-examination: do we want to move towards justice? That path is not easy, but it is the only way to salvation. The easy thing is to gather and beat someone to death. But to stand for law and human rights, and ensure justice—that is difficult, and it is for this very difficulty that the mass uprising happened! After the murder of Avijit Roy, his father Ajay Roy said, “I do not want justice. I want the awakening of people’s conscience.” But justice did not come, nor did any awakening. People seem to be taking on a monstrous form.

In Freud’s words, man is being driven solely by basic instinct, the super-ego is getting suppressed. As a result, in any provocation or revenge, man ceases to be man—becoming a ferocious hedonistic psychopath.

No, nothing rises from the bottom up. Change comes from the top. We still hope that change from the top will come—and gradually spread downward. And that change may begin—with one verdict.

After the removal of the OC of Patiya Police Station, will police officers now be able to enforce the law strictly? As the police force undergoes restructuring, such an incident will set a terrible example. Previously, the police had to appease the Awami League—now they must look to the wishes of BNP-Jamaat-NCP. This is nothing new—just a new version of the old arrangement. With such political duplicity and pressure, is a fair election even possible?

If not listening to NCP means being labelled a ‘fascist’s accomplice’, then NCP’s behaviour becomes no different from that of the old party. Many are now saying, the opportunity for democratic transition that emerged in July 2024 has been missed. If this trend continues, we will face a terrible catastrophe ahead. Political instability, geopolitical conflict, conspiracies—together, the horizon appears dark. The only way out of this situation: a swift, accountable, stable, participatory election.

When the state’s law enforcement is inactive, mob justice becomes active. After a political transition, various groups exploit ‘public anger’ to serve their own interests. This is exactly what is happening in Bangladesh.

The rise in mob justice after 5 August stems from—the suppression of political ideology, punishing opponents, destruction of symbols, and prior enmities. The ‘messages’ coming from the state level are often weak, ambiguous. As a result, many have started legitimising these incidents—this is alarming. Hence, the following questions must be raised before all:
* Is the state truly sincere about stopping mob justice?
* Or is it selectively accepting violence from certain groups?
* Why is there only a statement after every incident, but no trial?
* And why does the police only become active when mobs target government opponents?

This crisis can be overcome—if the state dares to stand up to the mob. Let that courage begin with these four steps:
* Impartial investigation and swift justice in every incident
* Let the administration work without party influence
* Distinguish between ‘public outrage’ and a ‘mob’
* Eliminate ‘domesticated rage’ nurtured under political parties

We want justice, not revenge. We want a state, not mob rule. If the state forgets this fundamental truth, history will one day forget the state itself.

Habib Imon: Political analyst and Presidium Member, Bangladesh Juba Union