By Dipak Kurmi
The International Crimes Tribunal’s recent decision to sentence former Bangladesh prime minister Sheikh Hasina to death marks one of the most consequential and controversial judicial moments in the nation’s recent history. Delivered by a three-judge bench on Monday, the verdict holds Hasina responsible for two counts relating to the killing of unarmed protesters during last year’s anti-quota agitation. The maximum sentence, also handed down to former home minister Asaduzzaman Khan Kamal, stands in sharp contrast to the leniency shown to Chowdhury Abdullah Al-Mamun, the former inspector-general of police, who was spared after turning witness for the prosecution. The judgment closes a three-month-long process that appeared biased from the very beginning. Unlike international tribunals elsewhere, which incorporate foreign judges and prosecutors to ensure neutrality, this tribunal consisted solely of Bangladeshi judges whose political leanings have been widely criticised. Its composition alone signalled that the odds were already tilted against the former prime minister, a figure deeply polarising but undeniably central to Bangladesh’s political evolution.
From the outset, the trial was clouded by procedural irregularities that weakened its credibility. The appointment of a judge affiliated with the Bangladesh National Party, which swiftly welcomed the verdict, immediately drew concerns of partisanship. Even more troubling was the near-absence of a functional defence for Hasina. Reports indicate that the state-appointed defence lawyer neither called witnesses nor sought adjournments, effectively abandoning the most basic responsibilities required to ensure a fair hearing. Throughout the proceedings, the caretaker government under Muhammad Yunus appeared determined not to seek justice but to stamp its authority over a fractured political landscape. By declaring the judgment “historic,” the regime has exposed its own fragility, for history rarely looks kindly on tribunals that weaponise justice to pursue political vendettas. Rather than strengthening the rule of law, the trial has reinforced fears that Bangladesh is drifting towards a tin-pot authoritarian model where dissent is punished and due process is reduced to spectacle.
None of this absolves Sheikh Hasina of her heavy-handed response to the protests that erupted in July last year. The anti-quota agitation, driven by genuine grievances over fairness and employment, encountered a government unwilling to engage constructively with its young population. Instead of reflecting on why students and jobseekers were turning restless, Hasina blamed “foreign mercenaries” and “radical elements” for hijacking the movement. Her rhetoric deepened polarisation at a time when Bangladesh desperately needed consensus-building and democratic maturity. Yet the proper avenue to assess her failures lies in free elections, robust institutions, and transparent judicial mechanisms—not in a truncated, adversarial Tribunal that substitutes political score-settling for legal reasoning. The current process has not only tainted the verdict but also deepened an already fragile national divide, making reconciliation more difficult.
The caretaker regime, which overreached its constitutional mandate immediately after taking charge, has intensified the crisis through its revanchist approach. Its clampdown on the Awami League, a party that played a pivotal role in the liberation of Bangladesh and has governed the country for much of its post-independence period, has raised fundamental questions about democratic rights. With the party banned, its senior members detained or driven underground, and its long-time leader sentenced to death, the legitimacy of the elections scheduled for February 2026 hangs by a thread. No electoral process can be considered credible when the largest political force in the country is forcibly excluded from participation. Bangladesh’s democracy, already fragile, risks collapsing into a one-dimensional space dominated by unelected technocrats and emboldened street forces.
One of the most alarming consequences of Hasina’s ouster has been the resurgence of Islamist politics, a development deeply interwoven with the country’s social and economic anxieties. Years of unemployment, rising corruption, and governance failures have left many young Bangladeshis disillusioned. Into this vacuum have stepped Islamist groups, offering both identity and mobilisation to disenchanted populations. The result has been a spike in violence across several districts, with disturbing implications for religious minorities, particularly Hindus, who have historically faced hostility during periods of political upheaval. The Yunus-led caretaker government has appeared either unwilling or incapable of stemming this rise, raising doubts about its ability to stabilise the country. Monday’s verdict may therefore become a catalyst for further unrest, emboldening extremist factions who view the erosion of mainstream political forces as an opportunity.
The decision also carries profound diplomatic implications for India, a key regional partner and the country currently sheltering Hasina. Dhaka has formally requested her extradition multiple times, including on the day of the verdict, yet New Delhi has shown no inclination to comply. India’s hesitation is understandable: extraditing a former prime minister to face what many experts consider a politically engineered death sentence could destabilise an already tense region. Furthermore, Hasina was instrumental in strengthening India-Bangladesh ties, particularly in counterterrorism cooperation, security coordination along the border, and economic integration. Her removal from the political space and the subsequent rise of groups that are openly hostile to India heighten New Delhi’s concerns. The situation demands delicate navigation, as India must balance humanitarian considerations, bilateral relations, domestic political sentiments, and broader regional security priorities.
The Yunus regime’s credibility has been weakening with every passing month, and the verdict against Hasina has only accelerated this erosion. Far from demonstrating strength, the decision exposes the government’s growing desperation and its inability to govern through consensus or legitimacy. Bangladesh today faces an intertwined crisis: a politicised judiciary, a polarised society, a weakened party system, resurgent extremism, and an economy under strain from inflation and declining export competitiveness. Instead of using this transitional period to rebuild institutions and restore faith in governance, the caretaker leadership has chosen confrontation, repression, and judicial theatrics.
Bangladesh’s long-term stability will depend on whether its political actors, civil society groups, and international partners can work collectively to steer the country back toward democratic norms. The sentence against Sheikh Hasina, far from closing a chapter, has opened a new phase of uncertainty. It has underscored the urgency of institutional reform, political dialogue, and protection of minority rights. More importantly, it has revealed how fragile democratic gains become when justice is weaponised and when state institutions turn into instruments of political retribution. The world will watch closely in the months ahead, but the fate of Bangladesh will ultimately be shaped by its ability to reclaim the integrity of its democratic processes, restore the credibility of its judiciary, and ensure that political competition is grounded in constitutional principles rather than coercion.
(The writer can be reached at dipakkurmiglpltd@gmail.com)
