We do not wish to live in a reality resembling the Hollywood film “The Wild Wild West.” The people of Bangladesh have never aspired to an imagined heaven, only to a simple, dignified life. The common citizens of this country never demanded luxury, privilege, or excess. What they have always sought is a modest, predictable life anchored in safety, dignity, and the assurance that they can move freely without fear in a democratic atmosphere. Yet over the last one and a half years under the interim government, the very foundation of public security has entered a fragile and alarming phase, leaving ordinary citizens weighed down by deep and persistent anxiety in their daily lives.
The brutal attack following the death of Osman Hadi, a key leader of Inqilab Mancha, exposed this collapse in stark terms. Driven by heightened emotion and religious fervour, groups from various quarters violently mobilised against two of the country’s leading dailies, Prothom Alo and The Daily Star, branding them as Indian agents. The enraged mob vandalised and set fire to the offices of both newspapers. Only by sheer fortune did thirty to thirty-five journalists escape being burned alive in the dead of night. This was not merely an eruption of anger; it was a calculated act that bordered on mass murder.
The same mobs went on to destroy Chhayanaut in the dead of night, a historic cultural institution, and the following day targeted Udichi, another pillar of the country’s cultural heritage. Nothing survived the flames. Musical instruments, archives, memories, history, and fragments of collective identity were reduced to ash within moments. These were not isolated buildings consumed by fire; they were symbols of the nation’s intellectual and cultural conscience deliberately set ablaze.
Editors, politicians, and rights activists rightly described these attacks as a calculated assault on democracy, press freedom, and human life. The violence did not erupt spontaneously. It bore the marks of careful orchestration, designed to intimidate and silence journalists through fear of death. The debate has thus shifted from freedom of expression to a far more basic and disturbing question: can journalists and citizens survive for doing their work or living their beliefs?
During a phase of lawlessness, a young man named Deepu Chandra Das was brutally beaten to death in Bhaluka under Mymensingh district, and his body was later burned by hanging from a tree in public. This reality inevitably gives rise to the most unsettling question of all; who will safeguard the country, and who will stand between society and its steady descent into chaos? When fear becomes a permanent feature of public life, the legitimacy of the state itself comes under scrutiny. Protection of life and liberty is the most fundamental responsibility of governance, and when that assurance begins to falter, citizens are left to seek security by their own means.
Against this backdrop of growing lawlessness, a deeply troubling trend has taken root. Fearful young political leaders, parliamentary candidates, senior journalists, and other influential figures are now openly seeking armed protection, not as a temporary precaution but as a perceived necessity. Applications for government assigned guards have surged, while private security arrangements are being rapidly expanded. The demand for gunmen has reached unprecedented levels, particularly in the run up to the thirteenth parliamentary election. This phenomenon reflects a profound failure of government’s security machineries. When aspiring lawmakers, and public figures feel compelled to surround themselves with weapons, it is a stark admission that the state has failed in its most basic duty to protect life.
In such a climate, security ceases to be a collective right and becomes an individualised commodity, accessible primarily to the powerful and the well connected. Ordinary citizens, lacking influence or resources, are left dangerously exposed to the same forces of violence that the elites seek to shield themselves from. This widening gap between the protected and the unprotected fractures social trust and fosters resentment, laying the groundwork for further instability.
The crucial question remains disturbingly unanswered. Does the arming of individuals and institutions genuinely enhance public safety, or does it instead entrench a culture of fear where suspicion, intimidation, and violence become normalised features of daily life? As a matter of fact, the people had expected decisive and immediate action from the interim government to dismantle mob violence at its roots. Instead, hesitation, inaction, and delayed responses have allowed mob behaviour to evolve into a social norm. In some instances, these groups now operate with a level of coordination that borders on organised force, even assuming a mercenary character. When mobs act without consequence, they cease to be spontaneous crowds and become instruments of intimidation, power bargaining, and political engineering, eroding the rule of law and hollowing out democracy from within.
As the nation approaches its general election, scheduled for February next year, fear has become a constant companion. This raises legitimate concerns about whether the prevailing mob culture is being deliberately used to discourage the electoral process. Recently, media reports showed a small group of orthodox Muslims staging a procession in front of the Election Commission, and chanted: “Those who accept democracy will go to hell.” It appears they have arrogated to themselves the authority to decide who goes to heaven and who goes to hell. But if they claim such power, what role remains for Allah Himself?
However, such activities clearly indicate the presence of dark forces intent on destabilising the election process. If this continues, the country risks descending into severe anarchy, fostering mob force. Yet, such behaviour has no place in a civilised society and if allowed to persist, it will corrode institutions, fragment social trust, and push the nation toward irreversible conflict.
Bangladesh does not need more guns, more guards. What the country urgently needs is justice that is swift, impartial, and visible, justice that reassures citizens that the law applies equally to all. It needs a right and democratic leadership that places the rule of law above political convenience and short-term calculations, and institutions that act decisively to protect liberal ideas, voices, and human lives.
The writer is a poet, litterateur, and political analyst
