India’s Colonial Legacies and Modern Political Manipulation in Bangladesh

In every era of human existence—whether in the shadowy expanses of prehistory or amid the complex geopolitics of the twenty-first century—one lesson has remained unwavering: security is born from unity. Whenever societies have fractured from within, external domination has rarely hesitated to fill the vacuum. The arc of political evolution—from clan-based settlements to the modern nation-state—was shaped by the necessity of collective survival. The eminent Muslim historian and philosopher Ibn Khaldun captured this principle with extraordinary clarity in his theory of asabiyyah: cohesive social solidarity is the foundational currency of political power. Without it, even the most formidable civilizations become vulnerable to manipulation, conquest, and decay.

Today, standing in an era defined by strategic competition and ideological tension across regions, the historical patterns are once again visible beneath the surface of contemporary politics. The subcontinent, with its millennia-long tapestry of empires, dynasties, foreign intrusions, and anti-colonial struggles, remains a vivid reminder that the greatest threats often arise not from the battlefield but from within the fault lines of society itself.

Political historians widely agree that internal division paved the way for successive foreign conquests of the Indian subcontinent. Feuding princely states, rival warlords, and fractured loyalties enabled external powers—Arab traders, Central Asian military elites, Afghan sultans, and eventually the Mughal Empire—to consolidate political systems over disparate territories. Yet this period, particularly under the Mughals, was marked by attempts to incorporate diverse communities into a single administrative and cultural order—one that sustained relative societal harmony for centuries.

This delicate balance collapsed rapidly with the arrival of European colonialism. The British, cloaked in commercial diplomacy through the East India Company, exploited local fissures with remarkable precision. The doctrine of divide and rule was not just a political tactic; it was an entire machinery of imperial administration. Colonial strategists understood that the most efficient form of domination was not to overpower a population militarily, but to make them suspicious of one another—to fracture trust, dismantle shared identity, and institutionalize communal boundaries.

The religion-infused nationalism and rigid sectarian demarcations that plague South Asian politics today are, therefore, less a legacy of indigenous animosity and more the engineered product of imperial manipulation. Numerous scholars note that prior to the British reconfiguration of power and identity politics, Hindu-Muslim cooperation defined the region far more than conflict did. The Ayodhya dispute—today weaponized into a symbol of Hindu majoritarian identity—was virtually nonexistent in pre-colonial literature. Neither Tulsidas nor other contemporary sources suggest any popular resentment toward Babri Masjid as an alleged usurpation of a Hindu temple. It was colonial historiography that carefully crafted and circulated these narratives, later triggering waves of communal tension that political actors during and after independence would eagerly exploit.

With decolonization in 1947 came not the end of division, but its political deepening. A newly partitioned India embraced secular democracy in constitutional text, yet failed to extinguish sectarian ideologies that now permeated its mass politics. For Hindu nationalist forces, particularly the ideological apparatus of Hindutva, the nation could only be fully complete when imagined around a singular religious-civilizational identity. This revisionist political project required portraying Muslims not as citizens but as historical usurpers—an “internal enemy” obstructing the fulfillment of a mythic Hindu past.

The rise of majoritarian politics in India must be analyzed not only in cultural terms but as an electoral mechanism. Mobilizing lower-caste Hindus against Muslims has proven a potent strategy to consolidate power vertically within the Hindu majority, even when those very caste communities remain victims of structural discrimination. Through media influence, institutional capture, and populist narratives of grievance, Hindutva forces have successfully embedded antagonistic nationalism as the central axis of India’s political discourse.

In contrast, Bangladesh—despite its overwhelming Muslim-majority population—has exhibited a different sociopolitical trajectory. Communalism did not emerge as a mainstream political ideology in the independent state. From the anti-colonial spirit of 1952’s Language Movement to the liberation struggle of 1971, the political identity of Bangladesh was constructed primarily upon linguistic unity and resistance against discrimination—not religious supremacy.

This history produced a civic ethos in which religious freedom and intercommunal coexistence remained fundamental social assumptions. Minorities in Bangladesh, unlike in many post-colonial settings, often found space to express their identity without systemic persecution. However, this resilience has not insulated Bangladesh from external geopolitical engineering. Two forces in particular have demonstrated a strategic interest in reshaping Bangladesh’s internal cohesion:

Western great-power frameworks, most clearly articulated through the post-9/11 War on Terror, which securitized Muslim-majority societies and made political autonomy subject to Western narratives of stability and threat; India’s regional hegemonic ambitions, aimed at maintaining decisive influence over Dhaka’s political direction and limiting any possibility of strategic realignment away from New Delhi. The interplay between these external pressures and Bangladesh’s domestic political vulnerabilities created opportunities for power consolidation by undemocratic actors.

The most consequential manifestation of this interference emerged through the 2007–2008 military-backed caretaker government—popularly known as the One-Eleven regime—and the subsequent empowerment of Sheikh Hasina’s rule. Analysts widely interpret India’s intelligence establishment and diplomatic network as key architects of this political reengineering, prioritizing security control and economic concessions over democratic legitimacy.

Across multiple election cycles marred by boycotts, coercion, and vote manipulation, New Delhi maintained steadfast support for the Awami League. The rationale was clear: Hasina was perceived as a reliable guarantor of India’s strategic interests—whether in cross-border security, water resources, economic corridors, or countering Islamist political movements.

What must be recognized, however, is that India’s policy toward Bangladesh is not partisan or ideological—it is structural. There has been no meaningful divergence on Bangladesh policy across Congress, BJP, or even influential regional figures like Mamata Banerjee. The Indian political class, regardless of rhetoric, has upheld a hegemonic framework that subordinates the democratic aspirations of Bangladesh’s citizens to India’s geopolitical calculus.

This continuity was once again exposed in 2024, when Bangladesh experienced a mass student uprising that ultimately overthrew Hasina’s authoritarian regime. Despite overwhelming public rejection of her rule, India continued to shelter, defend, and politically endorse her even after her flight to Indian territory. Statements from opposition leaders in India—including Rahul Gandhi—openly supporting Modi’s aggressive post-coup posture make evident that Bangladesh’s democratic struggle encounters resistance not only from its own elites but from a regional power determined to retain its leverage.

Strategic analysts warn that India’s unwavering alignment with a discredited authoritarian faction may prove a grave miscalculation. Aligning with a regime that has lost domestic legitimacy has already damaged India’s credibility among ordinary Bangladeshis, particularly the younger generation who led the 2024 revolution. Over time, this resentment may crystallize into a structural distrust that undermines the cooperative future necessary for regional stability.

Bangladesh is not merely a geopolitical “periphery” of India—it is a nation of 180 million people with its own strategic agency, growing economic potential, and a decisive role in the Bay of Bengal security architecture. Alienating such a partner creates openings for alternative global actors—China, Gulf states, and others—to influence the region’s political direction. A narrow focus on maintaining Bangladesh as a subordinate buffer state risks triggering the very geopolitical rebalancing India seeks to avoid.

The lesson from history is unconcealed: when external powers impose political preferences against the popular will, consequences eventually surface in volatile and destabilizing ways.

Returning to Ibn Khaldun’s insight, asabiyyah is not merely a philosophical abstraction—it remains a measurable determinant of political survival. Today’s Bangladesh stands at a crossroads where national unity and democratic legitimacy must be restored to shield the state from external manipulation. The July-August uprising was not an episodic disturbance but a profound recalibration of sovereignty, signaling that the population will no longer tolerate a government beholden to foreign patrons.

The restoration of inclusive political structures—strengthening electoral integrity, rebuilding independent institutions, and reaffirming civil rights—is essential to prevent Bangladesh from becoming a battleground for proxy interests. The challenges are undeniable: ideological fragmentation, economic pressure, regional power competition, and the lingering remnants of authoritarian networks. Yet, these challenges only reinforce the argument that internal solidarity is the ultimate defense against coercive geopolitics.

The subcontinent’s past repeatedly illustrates the consequences of disunity and external interference. When political authority is rooted in popular consensus, societies flourish. When leadership alienates its own citizens and aligns solely with foreign interests, collapse follows—whether quickly or gradually. India’s continued endorsement of a rejected regime in Dhaka does not only endanger Bangladesh’s democratic recovery—it also jeopardizes the long-term relationship between the two nations. Trust, once broken at a societal level, is exceptionally difficult to restore. A regional power that ignores the aspirations of its closest neighbor may find its influence contested by new alignments and internal dissent. Thus, the demand before the region’s policymakers is urgent and unmistakable:

Stability cannot be engineered from above; it must be earned through legitimacy and unity below.

To secure a peaceful and prosperous subcontinent, South Asia must revisit the foundational truth woven through its history: unity is power. Not unity imposed by dominance, but unity rooted in dignity, fairness, and shared purpose. Bangladesh’s 180 million citizens have clearly articulated their will—they seek a sovereign democratic order free from authoritarianism and external imposition. Respecting that will is not merely a moral necessity; it is a strategic imperative for the region.

If India wishes to maintain constructive engagement with its neighbors, it must realign its policies with democratic norms rather than personal loyalties to political families. The legitimacy of future cooperation will depend on mutual respect, not coercive hierarchy.

The story of this region is still being written. To ensure it does not repeat its darkest chapters, political actors across borders must rethink the politics of dominance, abandon the manipulation of internal divisions, and embrace a vision of security rooted in unity and popular consent.

Only then can Bangladesh escape the cyclical trap of fragmentation and become a region defined not by distrust and intervention, but by collective progress and enduring peace.