One year on, the interim government has failed to bring order to the country’s law and order situation. Today it often seems as if there is no government at all. Who holds the reins of power, or who controls whom, remains unclear. Across the world, in the aftermath of revolutions, transitional governments have had to impose strict order, punishing looters and agents of chaos swiftly in order to instill fear and re-establish control. In the absence of such firmness, counter-revolutionaries, always lurking for an opportunity, exploit disorder to derail the goals of change. Bangladesh now finds itself in a similar state of chaos.
The phrase mob justice has become all too familiar, striking fear into ordinary citizens. This is not to say mob justice is new to the country: in pre-1971 East Pakistan, the Bihari community felt its wrath; in the years following independence, many others too experienced it. Mob justice has punctuated our political history—from the killings of seven Dhaka University students in 1974, to the violence of 28 October 2006, broadcast live to the world. Time and again, it was leaders and activists of the Awami League and its affiliates who drove these incidents, justifying them with loud voices and crude rhetoric.
Mob justice is not only a crime; it is evidence of a breakdown in law and order. Political parties in power enjoy the backing not only of state security agencies, but also of party workers and hired muscle. The current interim government lacks such advantages. Many members of the police and other forces were recruited under Sheikh Hasina’s partisan regime and remain loyal to her legacy. Without a political mandate of its own, the interim authority struggles to impose discipline. Hence, there is growing consensus that the sooner power is handed over to elected representatives through elections, the better for both the interim government and the nation. Yet, the escalating incidents of mob justice and unchecked crime now threaten the very possibility of holding elections—a fear voiced by nearly every political party.
Politics is not shaped by political parties alone. Other vested groups and pressure blocs are also at play. After 5 August last year, the country briefly appeared devoid of politics, but those long deprived of extortion and land-grabbing swiftly re-emerged, reigniting turf battles, internal feuds, and bloodshed.
Equally troubling has been the opportunism of the so-called beneficiaries. Until days before the fall of Sheikh Hasina’s government, they loudly denounced her. But on 5 August, they abruptly changed course, repositioning themselves, distributing favours, and redecorating institutions with new faces. Their volte-face resembled that of animals sensing an earthquake before it strikes: the experts in political gymnastics quickly detected the shift in power and adjusted loyalties overnight.
Meanwhile, at grassroots levels, extortion and land grabs were redistributed like ripe mangoes, falling to whoever wielded the greater muscle. Such opportunistic forces thrive in political vacuums, and once a new regime consolidates power, they adapt themselves to serve it—trading loyalty for a share in illicit gains. To expect this cycle to end anytime soon is wishful thinking.
Greed—whether for power, fame, or wealth—has long corrupted Bangladesh’s politics. Sheikh Hasina and her associates were consumed by it. Consider this: a prime minister’s peon amassing Tk 400 crore, travelling by helicopter. If that is the scale at the lowest rung, how immense must be the fortunes of her ministers and inner circle? As Kautilya observed 2,300 years ago in his Arthashastra: just as one cannot know how much water a fish drinks, so too is it impossible to know how much a state official steals. Today, theft is systemic, reaching from the lowest to the highest offices.
Khushwant Singh once told a joke that captures the essence: A Punjabi minister shows his friend a bridge and admits half its funds went into his pocket. Years later, his Keralite friend, by then a minister, points to an empty valley where no bridge stands at all, saying: “The entire fund went into my pocket.” Such anecdotes, though humorous, reflect a grim truth: entrenched corruption.
From independence onwards, no ruling party has resisted the lure of wealth. The Awami League, loudly proclaiming the country as “my father’s land,” competed internally over who could loot the most. Massive projects were undertaken and plundered without restraint.
Greed is, indeed, the root of all evil. And though Sheikh Hasina and her companions fled like defeated demons in the face of the July movement, greed itself will not vanish from Bangladesh. Leaders have long cloaked deceit with fine words, appearing graceful while acting like crows. Those now eager to replace Hasina appear little different, desperate not only for power but also for the spoils it brings. They reject the “July Charter” reforms, demanding elections first, while those who toppled Hasina insist on reforms before elections.
If Sheikh Hasina had remained in office until 2028, would these impatient actors have dared to demand “immediate elections”? Hardly—they would still be in hiding. The interim government is already giving them more than they might have expected. Had martial law been imposed last year, political parties would have been forced underground. As the proverb goes: beggars cannot be choosers. Accept what is on the table, and stop obstructing peaceful elections. The interim leadership must also take a firmer line against those fomenting disorder.
Barring unexpected setbacks, elections are due within five months. Yes, many of those elected will see office as an opportunity to recoup campaign costs. But those of us far from power can still hope—for the welfare of our motherland, however it may come.
The writer is a senior journalist and translator based in the United States.
