In the vocabulary of politics, few words are as over-celebrated and under-delivered as “freedom.” It is recited in constitutions, echoed in parliamentary oaths, splashed across campaign banners, and invoked in independence day speeches. Yet in Bangladesh, as in many developing nations, the paradox persists: We are told we are free, but the substance of that freedom often vanishes the moment we try to exercise it. The form of liberty exists; its essence too often remains out of reach.
The Constitution of Bangladesh guarantees the right to speak, to move, to assemble. The rhetoric of political leaders assures us of our “freedom.” But one of the most fundamental prerequisites of any genuine democracy is the creation of a fearless society -- a space where citizens are not just legally allowed, but socially and politically empowered, to speak their minds without the shadow of consequence. And it is here that we fail, time and again.
In reality, a culture of fear permeates public life. It is not the natural fear that stems from uncertainty or personal loss -- it is a carefully engineered, politically managed fear that maintains the status quo. It is enforced not only by formal instruments of the state but by informal networks of influence, patronage, and intimidation. A small but powerful class -- perhaps a few thousand individuals -- holds the levers of this fear. The majority, the crores of ordinary Bangladeshis, do not engage in power politics. They simply live under it, often as silent puppets in someone else’s game.
The media, reading the political weather, has learned the subtle art of self-censorship. This is not because journalists do not know the truth, but because they know the cost of saying it. From digital security laws to the unspoken “rules” that editors internalize, the press often finds itself practicing pre-emptive obedience -- avoiding stories, tones, or angles that might invite reprisal. In recent times, prominent cases have shown that crossing certain lines -- criticizing the wrong leader, exposing the wrong scandal, questioning the wrong decision -- can bring swift and personal consequences. This is not the sign of a mature democracy; it is the sign of a political culture insecure in its own legitimacy.
It is tempting to frame this as a partisan issue, but it is not. The problem transcends governments and party colours. Whether under the long rule of the Awami League, or in the current climate under the interim administration, the instinct to punish dissent has remained a constant feature of our politics. This continuity suggests that what we face is not just a government problem -- it is a systemic one, embedded in our political DNA.
Franklin D Roosevelt, in his 1941 State of the Union address, spoke of the Four Freedoms: Freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom from want, and freedom from fear. They were meant as universal aspirations, a moral framework to guide nations in the aftermath of war and authoritarianism. The United Nations enshrined them in its 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Yet, in Bangladesh today, the fourth -- freedom from fear -- remains the most elusive.
Fear here is not always loud or visible. Sometimes it is the quiet calculation before posting a comment on Facebook, the hesitation before signing a petition, the avoidance of certain topics in a tea stall conversation. It is the knowledge that even if your criticism is valid, it might be interpreted as disloyalty -- and loyalty is often the currency of survival.
Philosophers from Montesquieu to Hannah Arendt have warned that political systems rot when fear becomes the primary mechanism of control. Montesquieu described the most dangerous tyranny as that which operates “under the shield of the law and in the name of justice.” In Bangladesh, legal frameworks intended to protect the public are sometimes weaponized to protect political power. The Digital Security Act (DSA), for example, was officially repealed in 2023 and replaced by the Cyber Security Act; which was again replaced by the Cyber Security Ordinance, 2025. The Cyber Security Ordinance aims to address concerns about freedom of expression and other issues related to the previous Cyber Security Act and its predecessor, the Digital Security Act (DSA).
But in practice, many journalists and activists argue the changes were cosmetic -- cases continue to be filed, arrests made, and the disturbing effect on free expression remains intact.
The absence of freedom from fear is not just a moral failing -- it has concrete economic and social costs. A society that fears criticism cannot innovate. Political stability, in the real sense, requires trust between citizens and the state, not submission enforced through intimidation. Investors, both domestic and foreign, look for predictability, transparency, and fairness -- conditions incompatible with an undercurrent of political tension and legal uncertainty.
Youth unemployment adds another dangerous layer to this dynamic. Bangladesh’s demographic dividend -- a young, energetic population -- is in danger of becoming a demographic liability if opportunities do not match expectations. A generation without work, without voice, and without hope in the fairness of the system is a generation primed for unrest. Once fear breaks, the reaction is rarely gradual reform -- it is more often explosive upheaval.
The geo-political context complicates matters further. We live in an era where authoritarian governance models -- China’s centralized control, Russia’s “managed democracy” -- are not just surviving but, in some respects, thriving. The West, which once positioned itself as the global champion of democratic freedoms, is itself facing internal crises of polarization and credibility. For leaders in developing democracies, the temptation is clear: why risk the instability of open dissent when “managed stability” appears to deliver quicker results? But history shows that stability built on fear is brittle; it endures only until fear collapses, and then the fall is swift.
In Bangladesh, fear has also been normalized through everyday political behaviour. Citizens who avoid political discussion in public do so not because they lack opinions but because they have learned the risks of sharing them. Business owners know that open political affiliation with the “wrong” side can jeopardize contracts or regulatory approvals. Civil servants understand that promotions and postings can be influenced as much by perceived loyalty as by merit. Over time, this culture produces not engaged citizens but cautious subjects.
The challenge, then, is philosophical as much as it is political. Can a democracy truly function without freedom from fear? Hannah Arendt argued that totalitarian systems aim to eliminate the spontaneity of human action. Fear achieves this without the need for totalitarian architecture -- it shapes behaviour in advance, so that individuals censor themselves long before the state needs to intervene.
The path forward demands more than legal reforms. It requires a cultural shift in political leadership -- a willingness to embrace criticism as part of governance rather than as a threat to it. True political maturity means understanding that legitimacy is strengthened, not weakened, by tolerating opposition. It also requires citizens to reclaim their role in the democratic process -- not merely as voters during elections but as active participants in shaping the national discourse. And it requires the media to resist being reduced to an echo chamber of official narratives, reclaiming its function as the arena where truth, however uncomfortable, is debated openly.
The interim government that took office following the dramatic political shifts of last year, entered with a promise to restore fairness and transparency. Yet, already, there are murmurs that the old patterns are re-emerging -- politically motivated arrests, selective application of law, and the quiet return of intimidation tactics. The question is whether this administration will break the cycle or merely continue it under a different banner. The political history of Bangladesh offers sobering odds: each regime has spoken of reform; each has succumbed to the lure of control.
Ultimately, freedom from fear is not the absence of risk -- it is the assurance that one can engage in public life without fear of disproportionate retribution. It is the ability to criticize a minister without fearing a midnight knock on the door; to assemble peacefully without worrying about baton charges; to write an investigative article without anticipating a lawsuit designed to drain you into silence.
Until we achieve this, our democracy will remain incomplete-- a façade of institutions without the lifeblood of liberty. The Four Freedoms will be quoted in speeches but absent from the streets. And the question will remain, whispered in private conversations and scrolled in half-coded social media posts: when will we truly be free from fear?
HM Nazmul Alam is an academic, journalist, and political analyst based in Dhaka, Bangladesh. He can be reached at nazmulalam.rijohn@gmail.com.