In the dead of night at Dhaka University’s FH Hall, a man, suspected of thievery, received a harsh “lesson” in mob-led justice at the hands of students. Eager to demonstrate their civic responsibility, the mob delivered the severely beaten man to Dhaka Medical College just after midnight – before mysteriously disappearing. He was entertained and fed well before his death, with photos of him eating going viral even before the brutal beating. When the hospital declared him dead, the mob was nowhere to be found. The body, now covered in brutal injury marks, tells the story of a rather extreme extracurricular activity.
In the wake of the August 5 uprising that toppled the Sheikh Hasina government, Bangladesh has found itself in the throes of an unexpected judicial revolution. No, not the kind involving trained legal minds or orderly courtrooms, but a brand-new justice system. A grassroots one, if you will. It requires no evidence, no due process and no defense counsel.
Shamim Molla, once the proud “godfather” of Jahangirnagar University, known for walking around with arms and owning a German Shepherd in his residential hall, met a rather poetic end. The self-proclaimed terror, who could strike fear into journalists and students alike, finally found himself on the wrong side of “public opinion”.
His trip to Gonoshastho Kendro was his last, proving once again that mob justice in Bangladesh is a swift, if brutal, equaliser. But let’s not forget the obvious: Even villains deserve their day in court. Sure, he allegedly dabbled in, well, everything illegal, but that doesn’t mean a mob should be the judge, jury and executioner.
It all started quite innocuously, really. A few factories burned here, a couple of religious sites vandalised there, and suddenly, everyone realised: Who needs formal justice when you have mobs? And just like that, Bangladesh’s legal system was flipped on its head. Mob justice, previously a fleeting whisper in dark corners, became the new de facto law of the land.
At first, people seemed to think that this wave of public justice was just an outlet for post-revolutionary anger. A sort of national group therapy. Let’s be honest – the judiciary had it coming. The courts, with their endless paperwork, long-winded arguments, and tedious insistence on “evidence”, had overstayed their welcome. Why wait for months, or even years, for a trial to conclude when an angry mob can settle the matter in minutes? The people’s court is quick. It is democratic. If enough people agree that you’re guilty, then guess what? You’re guilty. Majority rules, after all.
The old government institutions, in their inefficiency, had failed the people. But fear not, Bangladeshis have always been resourceful. When the formal justice system crumbled, mobs stepped in to save the day, delivering their unique blend of immediate and, shall we say, unorthodox rulings.
Teachers, of course, have been at the forefront of this revolution. In the old days, they enjoyed a certain level of respect. But in the new order of things, they’re just like everyone else: targets. After all, what better way to shape the future of a nation than by showing its educators the consequences of, well, educating? Schools and colleges have become prime hunting grounds for these justice-seeking mobs. Some teachers were forced to resign, not because they had committed any crime, but because they had dared to teach students to think independently. And we all know independent thought is a gateway to dissent. Before you know it, students might start questioning their mob-appointed leaders. Can’t have that, can we?
With mob justice gaining popularity, it’s only natural that a little moral policing comes along for the ride. Got a female neighbour who dresses too “modernly”? An innocent man involved with mazars? A teacher who once discussed a banned book? Fear not – the people’s court will handle it with gusto.
The process is simple. Step one: Accuse someone of moral misconduct. Step two: Form a mob. Step three: Deal out “justice.” It’s as easy as 1-2-3, and the results are spectacular. No more tedious investigations or pointless cross-examinations. The mob knows who’s guilty, and they’re ready to act. Plus, with social media, anyone can act as a virtual judge, jury, and executioner from the comfort of their home.
Of course, it’s all for the greater good. Bangladesh is in a critical and transitional period. What the nation needs now is order – a kind of order that only mobs can provide. Who better to keep society in check than the very students who once fought for their education?
But mob justice isn’t content with just reforming the judicial sector. It’s also doing its part to reshape the economy. Take, for example, the cases of Gazi Tyres or Beximco Garments. Once thriving businesses, now piles of ash – courtesy of a mob that was more interested in creative destruction than economic stability. In a single night, 4,000 to 5,000 workers found themselves unemployed. It’s an unfortunate side effect, but hey, you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few factories, right?
One might wonder: What about those displaced workers? Well, no one really has an answer to that. Such questions are irrelevant. As long as the mobs get their catharsis, what’s a few thousand livelihoods? After all, we’re building a new Bangladesh – one brick, one protest, and one looted business at a time.
The interim government, clearly overwhelmed by the success of mob justice, has done little to address the situation. “We’re still formulating a response,” a government spokesperson has said, looking nervous as a mob gathered outside the press conference. “We’re definitely considering all options.”
The truth is, the police, paralysed by fear of retaliation and job insecurity, have become largely ineffective. Police stations burned to the ground, and officers labeled “murderers” during the July-August protests are still recovering from their reputational wounds. So, in the absence of effective law enforcement, mobs have stepped in to fill the gap. After all, if the police can’t be trusted, who better to restore order than the mob?
Sure, the mobs might be a bit violent, but at least they’re democratic. Well, if you consider rule by the loudest and angriest democratic, that is. Of course, it is important to emphasise that the interim government must act – not because they disagree with mob justice, but because it’s becoming slightly inconvenient. You see, foreign investors tend to shy away from countries where businesses get looted and factories burned. It’s bad for the bottom line. So, for the sake of the economy (and not because of any fundamental disagreement with mob rule), the government will likely step in at some point.
For now, the nation waits with bated breath to see how far the interim government’s recently adopted zero tolerance policy regarding mob justice can really go.
As Bangladesh marches forward, it’s clear that mob justice has become an unfortunate part of the nation’s identity. Who needs lawyers, judges, or juries when you have angry crowds with smartphones and a sense of moral superiority?
But remember, mob justice is a slippery slope. Today, it is your neighbour’s house that gets torched. Tomorrow, it could be yours. So, as the flames of revolution burn ever brighter, let’s all take a moment to appreciate the fine balance between justice and chaos – and hope that someday, someone remembers where the “off” switch is.
HM Nazmul Alam is Lecturer, Department of English and Modern Languages, International University of Business, Agriculture, and Technology.
This article was first published on Dhaka Tribune.
