In the summer of 2024, the world witnessed the climax of a student-led uprising in Bangladesh, which led to the fall of an increasingly authoritarian government and leader. While civil unrest was raging at home, the diaspora population and non-resident Bangladeshis had to define what resistance meant to them from their corners of the world.
The past decade and a half bore witness to dissenters being repeatedly silenced; miscarriages of justice were discussed in hushed whispers as fear of harsh retaliation gave one pause. The Aynaghor’s existence — the secret detention centres — is only one piece of evidence among countless attempts to curb free speech.
That all changed when students bravely raised their voices to demand their rights, and it seemed natural that their courage should be echoed beyond borders.
Sumon Ali, a journalist, was pursuing his master’s degree in the US during the uprising. Watching Abu Sayeed’s gruesome murder on video pushed him into action. He never second-guessed his support for the cause.
When asked whether he was ever worried about his or his family’s safety, with relatives still in Bangladesh, he boldly remarked: “What happened in the July revolution is beyond fear.”
He and his friends in the USA organised physical protests through Facebook Messenger group chats and encouraged their community to share news on social media and other platforms. He commented that their success reached the point where, “My professors would contact me asking, ‘How’s your family doing now?’”
On one end of the southern hemisphere, the last straw for Sadat Hossain – not his real name – was the way the AL government would shut down any movement that didn’t align with its narrative. “In Sydney, there were a number of protests condemning the abuse and demanding the last government step down,” he said.
In his bid to show solidarity with the students, apart from participating in protests, he worked with friends to design and distribute leaflets in local mosques, featuring QR codes linking to multiple online petitions. Their efforts received coverage from Australian local media.
At the same time, Rafiq Muhammad – not his real name – was furiously composing a piece for a human rights magazine, in the hope that the situation in Bangladesh would reach a non-Bangladeshi audience in the UK.
He opined about the ex-regime: “If you’re willing to kill thousands of people over reforms to a flawed system, you either step down or you’re bulldozed down.”
Unfortunately, adversaries were not always in the form of an authoritarian regime and its enforcers. Some faced criticism from relatives as the stakes were simply too high.
Anika Jahan – not her real name – remembers calling her mother from London and being asked to stop sharing posts that could be construed as anti-AL. “I completely understand her fear,” she said. “We didn’t think we’d succeed in ending the previous regime. I thought the protests might bring some changes, but I never imagined Sheikh Hasina would be forced to leave the country!”
Ruma Nawrin – not her real name – a resident of the UAE, recounts: “Some family friends attacked me personally via Facebook messages or comments on my posts.”
Ruma’s stance in support of the student protests became more precarious after 57 migrant workers were detained, convicted, and sentenced to long prison terms following peaceful demonstrations in the UAE.
They were later pardoned by the president, but their arrests sparked longstanding conversations about the country’s human rights standards and lack of freedom of expression. For residents like Ruma, incidents such as these create challenges for those whose lives and livelihoods are based in the Emirates.
“Though the labourers were showing solidarity, they breached the law, for which the authorities restricted visas, and other Bangladeshi nationals had to suffer and are still suffering,” she shared with TIMES of Bangladesh.
Nonetheless, the positive impact far outweighed the setbacks; Rafiq credits Netra News and famed reporter David Bergman with keeping people informed despite facing great personal risk.
Nusrat Begum – not her real name – from Canada felt it was an ethical obligation to show support. “I was able to engage friends, colleagues, and acquaintances who had never even heard about what was unfolding in Bangladesh,” she stated.
“Through careful conversations, thoughtful sharing of verified content, and personal reflections, I helped create pockets of awareness.”
As is often the case with political takedowns, the united front Bangladeshis adopted during July 2024 fractured as soon as the air cleared after 5 August. Calls to reform the system and create a Bangladesh 2.0 appealed to all, but the promises remain unfulfilled.
Sadat observed of the interim government: “I think recently the interim government has become complacent, which is harming progression towards changes planned or even implemented.” He also believes more time is required to overhaul the system.
Anika’s anxiety persists in this new era. Some recent national crime reports have only added to her concerns: “I don’t think it’s any better than before. We are still living in fear. No freedom of speech and no safety.”
In contrast, Sumon envisions a better future. “I am very optimistic,” he laughs. The ideals of the movement could take decades to realise, but he is willing to wait. He doesn’t worry about who will occupy the apex of the nation next. He told TIMES of Bangladesh: “BNP cannot do the same thing [as the AL], young people are conscious now [about the abuse of power].”
To Nusrat, the road ahead feels fragile. Regardless, she feels the July Movement brought the power of the collective into the forefront. “It created a platform where none existed before,” she notes. “It gave voice to people who had long been spoken over or ignored. And that, in itself, is a form of progress.”