Ban BAL, Save Bangladesh

The Awami League is desperately attempting to reassert its presence in the political arena through strikes, blockades, and various other maneuvers. However, a dark and inescapable shadow looms over its ambitions—the damning allegations of genocide committed during July and August. Over the past 15 years, the party has been accused of orchestrating enforced disappearances, extrajudicial killings, brutal repression, and systemic torture. The weight of thousands of innocent lives lost is etched onto its hands, forever staining its political legacy. Can any party tainted by such atrocities ever reclaim legitimacy? Contemporary history resoundingly says no.

We need not look far for a precedent. Recently, Syria’s notorious Baath Party—long synonymous with the Assad regime’s tyranny—was outlawed, largely due to its role in mass slaughter and suppression. Following Bashar al-Assad’s fall, the world discovered Syria’s secret prisons, eerily reminiscent of Bangladesh’s own chambers of horror. Dissenters were abducted, confined, and subjected to unspeakable torment. The Awami League has mirrored this cruelty in Bangladesh, wielding state power as a weapon against its own citizens, eliminating opposition with ruthless efficiency. This is not governance; it is war against the people. Such a party has no moral or ethical right to engage in politics. Its descent into unrestrained violence has stripped it of any remaining vestiges of human decency.

What is perhaps most chilling is the Awami League’s complete lack of remorse. Instead of acknowledging the bloodbath of July and August, it defiantly insists that it is the victim of a conspiracy. Dodging accountability, it now attempts to revive itself by mobilizing ordinary workers as sacrificial pawns to absorb the public’s fury. But this strategy will not erase the horrors of its past crimes. The political future of the Awami League must be reconsidered with an unflinching gaze.

History offers a clear lesson—those who commit genocide, who turn their guns against their own people, ultimately face justice. The question is no longer whether the Awami League should be banned, but when and how. The time has come to hold it accountable and ensure that its reign of terror is consigned to the pages of history.

Throughout the last century, numerous political parties have been outlawed for their involvement in genocide and crimes against humanity. Among them, the most infamous example is the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, better known as the Nazi Party of Germany. Once a force that rose to power with overwhelming public support, the Nazi regime, under Adolf Hitler, orchestrated one of the most horrific atrocities in human history—the Holocaust. Between 1939 and 1945, approximately six million Jews, along with millions of other minorities, were systematically exterminated. Following Germany’s defeat in World War II, the Allies swiftly banned the Nazi Party in 1945, and its top leaders were brought to justice at the Nuremberg Trials, sealing the party’s fate as a relic of disgrace. Beyond Germany, political entities in Cambodia, Rwanda, Iraq, Turkey, Serbia, Spain, Indonesia, and Nicaragua have all faced similar fates due to their roles in genocide and human rights violations.

Historical precedents reveal a clear pattern—political parties that engage in mass murder and tyranny are either dissolved through domestic legal frameworks or international intervention. Allowing such entities to re-enter politics would not only be a mockery of justice but a betrayal of the countless lives lost under their oppressive rule. Those who perished did so in the struggle for democracy, human rights, and freedom of expression. If democracy is restored after the fall of a fascist regime, then the perpetrators of mass atrocities have no moral or legal right to participate in politics. A party that has bathed in the blood of the innocent must be permanently exiled from the democratic process—no exceptions.

There are voices arguing against banning the Awami League, specifically a party against the idea but such hesitation only enables tyranny to persist. Furthermore, there are also some so called civil society members who are against the idea of banning Awami League. If Bangladesh is to be freed from the grip of oppression, the ultimate political reform must begin with putting the Awami League on trial for genocide and banned them. Empty rhetoric about reform means nothing if the architects of terror remain unscathed. True political transformation will only be realized when the criminals responsible for mass murder face justice. No one should be above the law. The single most decisive step towards ensuring accountability in Bangladesh is to dismantle the Awami League permanently—only then will the nation move forward, free from the shackles of fascism.

Criminal charges have been filed against Awami League leaders, but justice cannot stop at individuals alone. The very institution under whose banner genocide was carried out must also be held accountable. No one participated in these heinous crimes of their own volition—they acted under the name, ideology, and command structure of the Awami League. Just as individual perpetrators must stand trial, so too must the party itself be prosecuted for orchestrating mass murder. Justice demands nothing less.

Some argue that banning the Awami League would leave a greater amount of its supporters politically adrift, allowing them to regroup under a different banner. This is a hollow excuse—one that ignores the precedents set by history. In every nation where genocide has been committed, accountability has been pursued both legally and politically. A political confrontation with a genocidal party is only meaningful once it has been dismantled through the rule of law. Trying to counter its influence while it still exists as a political entity is futile; true justice requires its eradication.

Punishment for crimes must be delivered through the courts, not through political maneuvering. Ideologies can be confronted politically, but mass murderers must be tried and sentenced accordingly. Take Germany, for example—after the fall of the Nazi Party, denazification efforts ensured that its politics could never return. Nazi greetings, symbols, salutes, and songs were banned outright. The same must be done with the Awami League. Its ideology of violence must be neutralized, and its symbols, slogans, and imagery erased from public life. Anything less would be an insult to the countless lives lost.

The martyrs who fought against fascism sacrificed themselves to rid this nation of tyranny. Now, it is our responsibility to honor their struggle. The Awami League must not only be dismantled as a party, but its entire political legacy must be wiped from history. If we fail to do so, the souls of those martyred in July and August will cry out for justice, their sacrifices rendered meaningless by our inaction.

History has placed upon us a great responsibility. If we falter—if we allow the Awami League to escape justice and return to politics—then we will become complicit in their crimes. We were the ones who inspired the people to rise, who led them to the streets with hope for change. Those who gave their lives did so believing in a better future, trusting that justice would be served. If we betray that trust, then history itself will condemn us. The path forward is clear: the Awami League must be banned, tried, and erased from the political landscape—only then will justice be done.

Seven months have passed since the downfall of the Awami League, and the national conversation remains dominated by the prospects of reform, elections, and the urgent question of whether the party should be banned from participating in politics again. On the reform front, visible steps have been taken—the reform commission has been formed, and the process of submitting reports is underway. As for elections, the interim government has dissolved the previous election commission and established a new one. However, the question of the Awami League’s future lingers. How does the party itself view the current state of affairs, and what does it reveal about their understanding of the situation?

Despite the passage of time, no genuine acknowledgment of wrongdoing or remorse has emerged from the Awami League’s leadership. The silence surrounding the atrocities committed during the July-August massacre speaks volumes. The absence of regret, or even a hint of accountability, sends a chilling message about the party’s refusal to confront its past. Instead, the narrative within the leadership remains unchanged. They continue to view the fall of their regime, not as the result of their own tyrannical actions, but as part of a larger conspiracy. This is made painfully clear in the phone conversations of Sheikh Hasina, the party’s president, which have recently surfaced on social media. Far from offering any remorse, Hasina’s tone remains defiant, filled with anger and hostility. In one such conversation on February 5, she was heard declaring, “Do we have houses, do they not have houses? There is no time to sit around anymore, our houses are being set on fire, their houses will have to be set on fire from all sides... I think we need to put in place some fire protection measures...”

This is the reality of the Awami League in its post-fall state—disoriented, defiant, and unwilling to acknowledge the scale of its crimes. The leadership is on the run, with many facing charges of genocide and repression. Senior members are standing trial at the International Crimes Tribunal, while the public demands the ultimate consequence: a permanent ban on the party. The question is not merely about reforming the party or allowing it to return to politics in some form. The demand is clear—the Awami League must be permanently disbanded, for it has shown no remorse for its actions, no willingness to face justice. It is time to make history right and ensure that such a criminal force can never again rise to power. The nation owes it to the martyrs and the victims of its past.

In the wake of her ouster, Sheikh Hasina, the leader of the Awami League, delivered a formal speech since her removal from power. This announcement ignited a firestorm of reactions across social media platforms, especially among the students and online activists who had played a pivotal role in the anti-discrimination movement. Calls for a ‘bulldozer procession’ and a ‘March to Dhanmondi 32’ quickly gained traction, further escalating tensions. The fallout from Hasina’s statement was swift and severe, with attacks on the residences and properties of Awami League members in various regions, including Dhaka. Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s house in Dhanmondi 32. Bulldozers were deployed to demolish the Dhanmondi 32 house, symbolizing the violent public backlash. Across the country, the homes of Awami League leaders and the murals of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman were vandalized all over the country.

The wave of destruction started on August 5, following the fall of the Awami League government after the July uprising, when a public anger arises and they set fire to Dhanmondi 32. Since then, the house has remained abandoned, a testament to the fallout of the 

regime’s collapse. 

Now, by announcing a new political program without any accountability or trial, the Awami League seems to be on a perilous path, retreating from the backlash, as resistance and public outrage mount. It’s clear that the party’s actions are only exacerbating its tragic demise.

But what political gains, if any, does Sheikh Hasina and her leadership stand to achieve by publicly announcing a program on Facebook? The top echelons of the Awami League leadership are safely ensconced outside the country, while the grassroots leaders and party activists cower in hiding, fearing both attacks and legal retribution. In such a volatile climate, any attempt to launch a political program without first addressing the charges of genocide and without offering a formal apology.

For the sake of the nation’s future and in the name of justice, the time has come to draw a firm line. The Awami League must not be allowed to continue this charade. Its leadership must be held accountable, and the party itself must be permanently banned from participating in any future political processes. The public’s resistance to this regime, and the demand for justice, are not mere political squabbles—they represent the urgent need to heal the nation from the scars of genocide and oppression. Until the Awami League faces this reckoning, the true path to justice will remain obstructed.

Awami League, during its previous tenure, barred both BNP and Jamaat-e-Islami from assuming office, ruthlessly prosecuting and imprisoning their leaders and activists. In stark contrast, the once-mighty Awami League is now a shell of its former self, its headquarters reduced to a gathering place for the party’s displaced and scattered members. A telling moment in this political crisis occurred following the leak of Sheikh Hasina’s audio message on a banned Chhatra League Facebook page. At first glance, it might seem that the destruction of Dhanmondi 32- a building once central to the Awami League- was merely the work of an angry representation. However, upon closer examination, it becomes clear that this was a symbolic response to the refusal of the Awami League leadership to express even a shred of remorse for the brutal murders of July-August 24. Moreover, Hasina’s continued sheltering in India sends a powerful message. It serves not only as a political statement to her supporters but also as a signal to India about the future trajectory of Sheikh Hasina’s political career, especially given her status as a fugitive in Bangladesh.

The stark reality is that Bangladesh can no longer afford to let the Awami League return to power. The time has come to decisively confront the past and cleanse the political landscape. The Awami League’s leadership, including Sheikh Hasina, has ruled the country with an iron fist, disregarding the democratic will of the people and subjecting the nation to unchecked violence. To save Bangladesh from further political decay and ensure the preservation of democracy, the only viable solution is to permanently ban the Awami League. Only by doing so can the country begin to heal from the atrocities of the past and restore the democratic process that has been so brutally undermined.

The constitution of Bangladesh was shaped primarily by the will of the Awami League, but it failed to address what can be considered the ‘original sin’ of the country’s state formation after independence. What is this ‘original sin’? It lies in the fact that the constitution was not drafted by the representatives elected through a new, independent Constituent Assembly but by a group of legislators loyal to a single political party. These legislators, who had been elected in the 1970 general elections under the framework of Pakistan’s state structure, set about creating a constitution that centralized power in the hands of one individual, rather than forming a truly representative democratic government.

The opportunity to rectify this flawed system came once again in the aftermath of the 1990 mass uprising. There were calls from various political factions to dismantle the autocratic, one-person-centered power structure that had endured, but instead of real constitutional reform, the uprising merely paved the way for a ‘transfer of constitutional power’ under the existing framework. The political landscape that followed not only rehabilitated the military dictatorship of Ershad but, shockingly, integrated it into the very fabric of electoral politics. The military dictatorship, once overthrown, was now lauded as part of the ‘glory of democracy.’ Thus, even today, these same political parties- who have reaped the benefits of this system—continue to claim the mantle of democratic governance, all while burying the essential need to address the original sins of Bangladesh’s state formation.

The struggle against dictatorship has been central to Bangladesh’s political history, from the resistance to colonial rule to the heroic Liberation War of 1971. The people fought not only for independence but also for the establishment of a democratic state free from tyrannical control. However, despite the sacrifices made to oust dictators like Ershad through civil uprisings, the political parties in power failed to create a truly democratic system that would honor the people’s struggle. Instead, they perpetuated the legacy of autocracy, using the very instruments of democratic politics to further entrench a system of constitutional dictatorship. The people’s brave revolt against tyranny led to the removal of one dictator, but in its place, a new kind of dictatorship was allowed to take root under the guise of democracy.

This distortion of democratic ideals calls for urgent and radical reform, starting with confronting the fundamental flaws in the political system that have allowed parties like the Awami League to dominate for so long. The need to rectify the ‘original sin’ in Bangladesh’s state formation cannot be ignored any longer, and the only way to bring true democratic progress is to hold accountable those who have systematically used power for their own gain, at the expense of the people’s freedom. Only through this bold step can we hope to heal the wounds of the past and pave the way for a genuine, inclusive democracy.

In the wake of the fall of Ayub, Yahya, and Ershad, the student body and the common people were hopeful, believing that democracy would finally be realized if ‘democratic’ political parties were brought to power through regular elections every five years. However, the narrow conception of democracy, confined solely to elections, has proved to be one of the major limitations in the political discourse since the 1990s. In reality, if the state’s power structure is not fundamentally democratic, elections become a mere facade, establishing what can only be described as ‘electoral dictatorship.’ This critical understanding has been notably absent from the political and intellectual conversations in Bangladesh.

If a citizen has no true agency, if the representative they elect becomes the arbiter of their fate, then the electoral process becomes little more than a cruel joke. For the past 15 years, elections have been a hollow ritual, devoid of meaning, as the state’s structure has not been genuinely democratic. This has revealed that, without a democratic power structure, even elections cannot be fair or credible. The intellectual community, which should have led the charge in exposing this crisis, has failed in its duty. Rather than challenging the undemocratic nature of the system, many intellectuals have, for the past decade and a half, supported the demand for elections without addressing the deeper issue of the need for democratic reform.

Given this context, any individual who values democracy and opposes authoritarianism must recognize that simply holding elections is not enough to guarantee a democratic society. The real struggle lies in dismantling the authoritarian structures that continue to hide behind hollow claims of democracy. The most urgent task for the people of Bangladesh, along with any genuine democratic political forces, is to launch a movement toward establishing a truly inclusive democratic state—one built on equality, human dignity, and social justice.

While the fascist regime was overthrown through mass resistance, the fascist system itself remains entrenched. The lesson from the mass uprising of the 1990s is stark: the fall of a particular authoritarian regime does not equate to the fall of authoritarianism itself. Elections, in their current form, are not the answer to democracy’s problems. Without significant structural change, the political system remains a breeding ground for autocracy.

It is imperative to recognize that the central crisis in Bangladesh is structural, not merely political. Any forward-looking progressive aspirations will be futile if the autocratic power structure, which was solidified shortly after independence, remains intact. The fight against this entrenched system cannot be avoided any longer. The political crisis that has plagued the country for over fifty years, driven by ideological divisions and constitutional mismanagement, must be confronted. To prevent the ruling party from becoming a totalitarian force, constitutional reform is not just necessary—it is the demand of the moment.

Moreover, it is critical to cultivate an intellectual movement that challenges the deceitful narrative perpetuated by partisan intellectuals, who have equated the survival of a political party with the survival of the nation. The intellectual community must stand against this manipulative ideology and work toward building a political environment where the interests of the people, not the ruling elite, come first. Only by dismantling this false narrative can Bangladesh hope to break free from the cycle of authoritarianism and begin its journey toward a genuine, inclusive democracy.

The state must prioritize the protection of the fundamental rights of all its citizens, subordinating itself to the will and needs of the people. In this process, society must be allowed to thrive with various independent initiatives and activities, as long as they respect individual and societal freedoms. The legal and power structures of the state must be built with an unwavering commitment to upholding these freedoms, rejecting any colonial-era legal framework that suppresses citizens’ rights. There must be avenues for peaceful resolution of societal conflicts, for without creating an inclusive political community and a people-centered state, the crisis in Bangladesh will persist.

The most pressing political challenge today is the establishment of human dignity and the civil rights of the Bangladeshi people. This challenge is not only about creating a political language but also about giving form to the social desire for state reform—a reform that transcends mere electoral politics. This mass political movement is not inherently opposed to elections; however, it recognizes that true democracy cannot be achieved through elections alone. It requires a deeper transformation of the political system.

For the generation of 2024, there lies a historic opportunity to rectify the mistakes of the 1990s. The mere change of individuals within an undemocratic and authoritarian state will not bring about meaningful change for the people. Autocracy must be dismantled, and the politics of transforming this authoritarian system into a true democracy must take precedence.

The political alliances of the 1990s failed to recognize the authoritarian system as a systemic issue. The belief that the change of power through elections in such a system equates to democracy was a grave error. The generation of 2024 is now poised to uproot the deeply ingrained authoritarian system. 

The July student-public uprising has presented the possibility of such a change. To make this possibility a reality, the only path forward is to draft a new democratic constitution through the election of a Constituent Assembly. The current constitution, which upholds the authoritarian structure, must be replaced. By adopting a new, democratic constitution, Bangladesh can finally rid itself of the tyranny that has plagued it for so long.

To save Bangladesh from continued authoritarianism, there is only one solution: banning the Awami League. This is the necessary first step toward restoring true democracy and establishing a just and inclusive political order. Only through this decisive action can the people of Bangladesh hope to secure their fundamental rights, their dignity, and their future.