In a grainy video circulating on social media, a self-appointed enforcer patrols a Bangladeshi marketplace during Ramadan. His mission? To catch those smoking instead of fasting. When he finds offenders, he shames them publicly -- forcing them into humiliating squats, hands clasped over their ears.
It’s tempting to dismiss this as an isolated case, but it fits a pattern. Across Bangladesh, self-appointed “morality police” -- driven by rigid interpretations of morality -- are imposing their version of “right” and “wrong.”
A university employee harasses a female student for her attire. Sculptures are smashed in the name of faith. A high school teacher is jailed for teaching evolution. Poets, researchers, and activists are prosecuted under cybercrime laws for expressing their views. The justification? Religion.
But this isn’t about faith. It’s about power -- wielded through an uncompromising interpretation of Islam that serves as a tool for control.
The global playbook of fundamentalism
Fundamentalism -- anywhere in the world -- thrives on the need to control. And history shows that when personal piety morphs into public enforcement, individual freedoms erode.
This isn’t just a South Asian story. The very term fundamentalism originates in early 20th-century America, when Protestant Christians declared themselves guardians of biblical “truth.”
By the 1970s and ’80s, the Moral Majority movement repackaged this ideology, shaping conservative politics for decades. Today, roughly a quarter of white American voters proudly identify as evangelical fundamentalists. Donald Trump -- though hardly a model of Christian virtue -- secured their backing to clinch the presidency. Twice.
From the US to Bangladesh, the playbook is strikingly similar. Evangelicals push to remove books from schools, ban discussions on transgender rights, and undermine reproductive healthcare. In Afghanistan, the Taliban takes it to the extreme, stripping women of the right to work, study beyond primary school, or even speak loudly in public.
Bangladesh has a saying: Rashtro shobar, dhormo jar jar -- religion is personal, but the state belongs to all. That principle is worth defending
Bangladesh hasn’t reached that point. Yet. But the warning signs are there. Under pressure from religious hardliners, school textbooks have been rewritten, purging “objectionable” content. Illustrations of women have been altered to appear more modest. Any mention of gender identity? Erased.
The fixation on controlling women
Wherever religious fundamentalism takes hold, it inevitably targets women. Psychologists argue that male insecurity plays a role. The renowned psychoanalyst Karen Horney coined the term womb envy -- the idea that men, unable to create life, compensate by controlling those who can. The stricter the moral code, the tighter the grip on women’s choices.
And these anxieties don’t remain confined to the fringes. They shape national policies. In the US, evangelical pressure has led to sweeping restrictions on abortion and birth control.
Bangladesh hasn’t imposed such bans -- yet -- but the rising influence of religious conservatism is unmistakable. Civil rights don’t vanish overnight. They disappear incrementally -- through small concessions to hardliners.
A revised textbook here. A censored syllabus there. A statue quietly removed to avoid “offense.” Each retreat emboldens those who seek to impose religious dogma on public life.
The case for resistance
But resistance is possible. The power of social media has already exposed moral policing in action. Public outrage forced the arrest of the Dhaka University employee who harassed a female student.
When religious hardliners pressured authorities to cancel a soccer match between two women’s teams, protests -- both local and national -- forced it to be reinstated with fanfare.
If self-proclaimed enforcers of morality humiliate people in public, let them be exposed in turn. Record them. Share their actions. Make them accountable.
Bangladesh has a saying: Rashtro shobar, dhormo jar jar -- religion is personal, but the state belongs to all.
That principle is worth defending. Because the moment we allow self-appointed moral police to dictate how others live, we surrender not just individual freedoms -- but the very foundation of a pluralistic society.
Hasan Ferdous is an author and journalist based in New York.
