Editor’s note: Bangladesh has been burning through July. Peaceful protests on university campuses early in the month, by students opposing a quota system for government jobs, spiralled into unrest across the country after the prime minister, Sheikh Hasina, insulted the protesters and dismissed their concerns. Violence exploded when the student and youth wings of the ruling Awami League attacked protesters, with police action following on. On 20 July the government deployed the army and imposed a country-wide curfew to try and maintain order. As protests have continued in the streets, large numbers of people have been reported killed and thousands have been injured.
Shahidul Alam, a renowned photojournalist, educator and activist based in Dhaka, has been documenting the protests and the government’s brutal reprisal. Alam has managed to get his dispatches out to the media despite an internet shutdown imposed to try and contain the protests, which has since been partially lifted. Himal Southasian is republishing these dispatches, which offer a picture of the situation inside Bangladesh even as the internet shutdown has severely restricted the outflow of information.
The events and circumstances described in the dispatches have been changing rapidly and there have been several developments since Alam penned each of them. The curfew has been partially lifted and internet connectivity has been partially restored, although it remains patchy and communication with many parts of the country remains difficult. The dispatches reflect the extent of violence and repression unleashed by the Sheikh Hasina government against its people. They have been lightly edited for clarity.
Click here to read all dispatches.
Alam sent his first dispatch on 19 July 2024.
It would be a mistake to see this as simply a demand for more jobs. The quota movement, justified as it is, is simply the tip of the iceberg. A rampant government running roughshod over its people for so very long has led to extreme discontent. The quota issue has merely lit the fuse to this tinderbox. As citizens counted the dead and the injured, the prime minister fiddled, advising attendees at an aquaculture and seafood conference on tourism prospects in Cox’s Bazaar.
The original quota had been designed shortly after independence in 1972 to be an interim arrangement to acknowledge the contribution of freedom fighters who constituted less than 0.25 percent of the population. Since a government known to be incredibly corrupt is responsible for creating the list of freedom fighters, over 50 years later, the 120-fold allocation through a 30 percent quota has become an easy backdoor for party cadres to much sought-after government employment. Confirmation came through of senior Awami Leaguers saying: “Just get through the initial screening, and we’ll get you through in the viva,” and simultaneously, that the “government jobs will only go to party people.”
The resentment had resulted in protests in 2008 and 2013, but it was in 2018 that it gathered steam. When repressive measures failed to quell that unrest, the prime minister, in a moment of rage, overstepped her authority and cancelled the entire system. This had never been a demand of the protesters, who recognised the need for positive discrimination for disadvantaged communities. There are plenty of other reasons for the unrest. The price of essential goods has skyrocketed over the years, and people have their backs against the wall. Meanwhile, the prime minister herself publicly announces that her peon has amassed USD40 million and only travels by helicopter. The peon is not the only one to travel by helicopter. Choppers were sent yesterday to rescue police trapped on a rooftop by angry protesters.
15th July 2024
It was reminiscent of 2018. The police van with water cannons and the long line of policemen standing at the Nilkhet corner on Monday made it abundantly clear that they were prepared. What were they prepared for? Certainly not the defence of unarmed students or the general public. They failed to lift a finger when the students were being attacked. The armed goons of the Chhatra League, the ruling party’s student organisation, had been bussed in the previous night along with, apparently, youth gangs and leaders for hire. Their leaders had openly threatened the protesting students. The Chhatra League was clearly the one the police were on standby to defend. It was The Chhatra League that quota backdoors were designed to favour.
As it turned out, there was little the unarmed students could do against the helmeted, armed, pro-government forces let loose. The police were content to let the mayhem continue, stepping in only when the ferocity of people’s power took the goons aback. We walked past blood and strewn sandals in the streets. People stopped us to say the injured had been taken to Dhaka Medical College Emergency Ward.
Chhatra League goons took positions around the ward where some of the injured were being treated while others marched around the wards, weapons in hand, and the police conveniently stayed away. They continued to look away when Chhatra League members went inside the ward to beat up injured students.
There was no need to intervene. The Chhatra League was not in danger. The nation was. Democracy was. Common decency was. The public was in grave danger, but that was not their concern. The fact that the protection of the public was their primary task had never been part of the equation. Several were killed all over the country that day.
“Justice will take its own course” is a common refrain of the law minister. The separation of the judiciary and the executive has never existed in Bangladesh. With this government, it has merged into one. It is used whenever the government wants to play good cop/bad cop. The court enacts government directives. The government takes credit. The blame goes to the court. The quota drama is no exception.
Torture cells in public universities. Suppression of all forms of dissent. Jailing of opposition activists. The extra-judicial killings, the disappearances. India has been given huge concessions, and in return, it has helped prop up this illegal regime in many ways, all of which are causes of anger. Abrar Fahad, the bright Bangladesh University of Engineering and Technology student who had critiqued Indian hegemony in social media, was bludgeoned to death on campus by party cadres. The same cadres the quotas would provide back doors for. An entire generation of Bangladeshis is growing up hating India. The Boycott India campaign is gaining steam. Hasina is getting to be a liability, even for our “friendly” neighbour.
16th July 2024
In a recent Facebook status, Abu Sayeed, the unarmed student of Begum Rokeya University whom police had pumped four rubber bullets into, had written an ode to his favourite teacher Shamsuzzoha, a chemistry teacher at Rajshahi University, who had died at the hands of the Pakistani army in 1971 while trying to save the lives of his students.
“Yes, you too will die, but while you are alive, don’t be spineless. Support just causes. Come out to the streets. Be a shield for the students. It is then that you will be respected and honoured. Don’t fade away in the annals of time through your death. Stay alive forever. Stay Shamsuzzoha.” No chopper arrived, nor indeed any attempt made at rescuing the hapless student. He became Shamsuzzoha.
The televised murder is an indictment of a rogue government that has long lost its right to rule. The defiant outstretched arms of the young man, a televised murder that will remain etched in public memory. His body shudders after the first bullet, yet he stands defiant. Then another bullet, and another, and yet another. All from close range. The body crouches, then crumples and folds. His outstretched arms as he had faced the police will become the Tiananmen Square moment in Bangladesh’s history.
17th July 2024
Border guards of Bangladesh, inept at protecting its citizens from becoming victims of regular target practicing by Indian Border Security Forces, seem happy to turn their own guns towards unarmed students instead. The police were clearly lying when they claimed they had fired grenades to try and control unruly students. There were only four students at Raju Bhashkorjo. The only ones who had been able to get past the Chhatra League and police cordon. They wanted to hold a funeral for Abu Sayeed and other slain friends. When the police started shoving them away, they lay down on the ground in protest. They were surrounded by journalists. The police hurled a sound grenade which sent both the journalists and students scurrying. They then hurled further grenades at the journalists and bystanders left standing. That was when my colleague was injured. The police were the only ones conducting violence. The space was encircled by hundreds of armed police. There were armoured vehicles. Water cannon trucks and even a prison van. I wonder which country has supplied our police with the 48 mm sound grenades (NF24. NENF24BP. MFG: 2022. Bangladesh Police/ BP). The grenade was hurled directly at my colleague. It was the first time she had joined a protest. At least she got to see how brave our police force is.
18th July 2024
A group of feminists who had planned to gather at Shahbag to express solidarity with the quota protesters should not have posed a major threat. Police and government goons didn't allow them to gather, so they regrouped outside the Naripokkho office in Dhanmondi. They were attacked too. Safia Azim was injured, but did not require hospitalisation. The law minister, known for lying through his teeth, said earlier on BBC that it was the protesters who instigated the violence. Meanwhile, the state-run BTV, the national television station, had been set on fire. Mobile data was blocked. Things were escalating. That night, the internet went down completely. Rumours spread about the military moving in, fuelled partially by sightings of a convoy of APCs in the streets. Other sightings of 15 helicopters taking off from the prime minister’s official residence gave fuel to the rumours that the prime minister was trying to make a getaway. The sound of shelling and gunfire rang throughout the night.
19th July 2024
The internet had been down, as had BTV, the national television station. Over 50 have allegedly been killed. Pro-government news outlets describe the protesting students as “miscreants.” A throwback to the term used by the Pakistani Army in 1971.
There are other similarities. A flailing tyrant is lashing out to survive against an enraged public that has shaken free of its fear of a repressive regime. The attempt to disrupt the morning protest outside the parliament building in memory of Abu Sayeed failed. Far too many protesters had gathered. The internet had been partially restored, but not BTV.
That’s when news of attacks all across the country started pouring in. The leftist leader Zonayed Saki and other party members had been badly beaten in Purana Paltan. Police-backed vigilantes desperately tried to quell the increasingly angry protesters. A desperate government offered a deal. The court would convene on Sunday, and they were prepared to engage in dialogue. “Not over spilled blood,” the students replied. Fresh rumours emerged of the military having been given magisterial powers and asked to intervene “in aid to civil power.” Ironic.
The people have spoken. The end is nigh.
Read the second dispatch here.