It is time for Bangladesh to move past the politics of violence

In a year that was meant to mark a new phase of political stability under the interim government, Bangladesh finds itself revisiting old ghosts. The latest report by the Human Rights Support Society (HRSS) paints a grim portrait of our political landscape: 160 people killed and more than 8,000 injured in 1,047 incidents of political violence over just 13 months, between September 2024 and September 2025. The figures reveal a pattern all too familiar to Bangladeshis. Of those killed, 104 were affiliated with the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) and 38 with the Awami League (AL). Others belonged to smaller parties such as Jamaat-e-Islami and the United People's Democratic Front (UPDF). Even more troubling, intra-party clashes claimed 88 lives. The violence reflects deep fissures within the parties where internal loyalty contests often turn fatal. The persistent and almost predictable tragedy portrayed in the HRSS report notes a steady climb in political deaths: 82 in 2021, 92 in 2022, 96 in 2023, and 160 between September 2024 and September 2025. These numbers are not just statistics; they are signposts of a political culture that has grown desensitised to violence. For decades, political dialogues have been replaced by hostility. Rival parties treat political competition as warfare, where victory is measured not by fair votes or vision, but by the dominance one can impose on the streets. Elections, protests, and policy disputes frequently spill into pitched battles, while the space for reasoned debate continues to shrink. The most unsettling aspect is how it has been normalised. Violence is now seen not as a breakdown of politics, but as its active, to some extent, only instrument. Party operatives are mobilised as foot soldiers, and young supporters are taught that confrontation is proof of loyalty. From city streets to university campuses, the language of political engagement has been replaced by the rhetoric of aggression. This normalisation thrives in a context of impunity. When institutions tasked with upholding justice appear politically biased and aligned, accountability becomes selective and violence becomes cyclical and pervasive. Perpetrators, emboldened by political protection, act without fear of consequence, while victims' families are left to navigate a system that offers neither recognition nor redress. The real toll of political violence is not just physical; it is psychological and moral. It corrodes public trust, breeds cynicism, and teaches citizens that power is born from intimidation, not integrity. Intra-party clashes, which claimed dozens of lives last year, are telling reminders that political patronage and personal ambition now outweigh ideology or principle. The state, too, bears responsibility. Law enforcement often responds reactively rather than preventively, and their perceived partisanship only fuels mistrust. Without institutional neutrality, violence fills the void that governance leaves behind. Ending this entrenched culture of violence demands more than temporary calm before the next election; it requires a structural and moral reset. Let's start with political responsibility, where party leaders must publicly commit to zero tolerance for violence and back it with disciplinary action. Rhetorical condemnation is no substitute for internal reform. Institutional nonchalance and the act of witnessing violence while actively denying it must come to an end. The police and judiciary must act with transparency and impartiality. Depoliticising law enforcement is crucial to restoring public confidence. Independent oversight is also critical; engaging civil society groups like HRSS should be strengthened, not sidelined. Particularly, an independent national observatory on political violence could document incidents, track accountability, and recommend legal action in this case. Civic education and youth engagement should be viewed as a necessary tool to combat these malpractices. The country's youth, often used as instruments of violence, should instead be empowered through civic education, dialogue platforms, and community service programmes. Last but not least, government-supported compensation and rehabilitation schemes for victims and their families would send a powerful message. Bangladesh cannot afford to treat these numbers as routine collateral damage of politics. Political violence is not an inevitable by-product of democracy; it is its undoing. The measure of a mature democracy lies not in the noise of rallies, but in the civility of disagreement. The HRSS report should thus serve as a national mirror. It reflects not just the brutality of our streets, but the poverty of our political imagination. For all our economic and social progress, we continue to lag in the most fundamental metric of modern statehood, the ability to resolve disputes and differences peacefully. As Bangladesh looks towards future elections and leadership transitions, we must decide if we want to remain captive to a culture where one's party flag determines one's safety, or we will choose the path of restraint, reform, and respect for life. True political strength does not emerge from fear or force; it emanates from the courage to listen, compromise, and lead without bloodshed. Bangladesh longs for a political era that heals, not leaves scars. Shabbir Ahmed is a research fellow at icddr,b. He can be reached at [email protected]. Views expressed in this article are the author's own. Follow The Daily Star Opinion on Facebook for the latest opinions, commentaries, and analyses by experts and professionals. 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