Bangladesh Must Break the Cycle of Political Revenge

We write today not as members of any political camp, but as citizens—concerned, grieving, and alarmed by a pattern that has haunted Bangladesh for nearly five decades. The recent deaths of Kaniz Suborna Swarnali and her infant child compel us to speak, not in anger alone, but in moral urgency.

This was not merely a private tragedy. It was the visible consequence of a deeper, long-standing sickness in our political and bureaucratic culture: the normalization of revenge politics and the erosion of democratic and human rights in the name of power.

For eleven months, Swarnali sought justice through lawful means for her imprisoned husband, Jewel Hasan Saddam. The courts denied bail. The administration refused flexibility. Whether the allegations against him are ultimately proven or disproven is a matter for the judiciary. But what cannot be ignored is that prolonged pre-trial detention, combined with institutional indifference, placed unbearable pressure on a young family already pushed to the margins.

After their deaths, the state was presented with a moment to act with basic human decency. It failed again.

Denying a grieving husband and father the opportunity to attend the funeral of his wife and child was not required by law. It was an administrative decision—one that reflected not strength, but a chilling absence of empathy. When procedure is enforced without conscience, it ceases to be justice and becomes punishment by bureaucracy.

This is not an isolated incident. It is part of a broader and dangerous trend.

For more than fifty years, Bangladesh has struggled under cycles of political vengeance. Each era promises a break from the past, yet repeatedly falls into the same pattern: the criminalization of political identity, the use of state institutions to intimidate opponents, the silencing of journalists and dissidents, and the quiet destruction of families who bear the collateral damage.

One government persecutes in the name of stability; the next retaliates in the name of accountability. The faces change, but the method remains. The law becomes a weapon. Bureaucracy becomes a shield. Human rights become negotiable.

This is not democracy.

Democracy is not simply the act of voting. It is the protection of people’s democratic rights—due process, presumption of innocence, humane treatment, and dignity for all citizens, regardless of political belief. Human rights do not belong only to the popular or the powerful. They are most meaningful when extended to those who are unpopular, accused, or politically inconvenient.

We must ask ourselves an uncomfortable question: is this what the people of 1971 fought for?

Ordinary men and women sacrificed everything not to replace one form of oppression with another, but to build a nation grounded in freedom, justice, and human dignity. They envisioned a Bangladesh where the state would protect its citizens, not exhaust them; where law would restrain power, not serve it; where mercy would be a sign of confidence, not weakness.

Fifty-five years later, that promise feels increasingly fragile.

A state that cannot show compassion in moments of irreversible loss risks losing its moral authority altogether. A man who has lost his entire family poses no threat to the republic. Denying him the right to mourn does not uphold order—it deepens alienation and distrust.

We appeal, collectively and urgently, to those who govern today and those who will govern tomorrow: end the politics of revenge. Restore the distinction between justice and cruelty. Reform bureaucratic practices that prioritize rigidity over humanity. Ensure that democratic and human rights are protected not selectively, but universally.

If this cycle continues unchecked, today’s victims will become tomorrow’s justification, and the wounds of the nation will deepen with each turn of power.

Bangladesh deserves better than endless retaliation. It deserves a future where law is fair, politics is restrained, and humanity is never suspended.

This is not a partisan demand. It is a democratic necessity.