Viewing the Monsoon Revolution purely as a regime change, more than two years later, is a narrow, misconstrued perspective -- and a half-truth at best.
The popular uprising was never just about removing an increasingly authoritarian regime from power; its ambitions were far greater.
Rebuilding and reforming state institutions -- which had become inept, deeply corrupt and inefficient -- was the central underlying goal and subsequent focus of the 2024 July Revolution in Bangladesh.
What began as a student-led protest for merit-based public job quotas ultimately transformed into a sweeping national resistance against systemic corruption, authoritarianism, and the collapse of good governance and institutional accountability.
Once August 5 sealed the fate of the previous regime for the foreseeable future, an interim government finally held general elections, transferring power to the country's first elected government in nearly two decades.
This milestone ignited high aspirations that post-revolution Bangladesh’s dysfunctional, broken-down state institutions would finally be rebuilt to meet public expectations.
Unfortunately, that has not been the case.
The police force -- the backbone of the state’s law and order apparatus -- serves as a stark example. Over the past two years, spanning two successive administrations following the Awami League’s ouster, leadership across various tiers of the force has seen frequent shake-ups.
These changes have often appeared more politically-motivated than driven by professionalism. Furthermore, the period has been marked by a wave of forced and early retirements of high-ranking police officers.
For the broader population, these internal shuffles matter less than tangible results; the public simply desires a safer, more stable law and order situation, and a disciplined, professional police force that genuinely serves the people.
Unfortunately, recent developments -- such as lethal goons vandalizing public property late at night, sometimes within the immediate vicinity of police outposts -- clearly illustrate how rapidly public trust and institutional expectations are eroding.
Instead of a proactive police force, we are increasingly witnessing a reactive one, swinging into action and making sporadic arrests only after crimes have taken place in full public view.
The reason why a student-led protest demanding quota system reforms for government jobs so rapidly transformed into a nationwide uprising that culminated in a change of government was because the population harboured years of pent-up grievances over the collapse of state institutions, their persistent failure to deliver basic services, and unabated corruption.
While the quota system provided the initial spark and the regime change opened a window of opportunity, the underlying drivers of the movement were far more profound.
The July-August 2024 uprising, therefore, symbolized more than mere opposition to a specific system; it challenged the country’s entire development paradigm, which had long excluded the majority from its benefits while maintaining zero institutional accountability.
To re-establish this long-lost transparency, swift institutional reform should have been treated as the ultimate priority.
Unfortunately, much of the reform momentum gained during the Yunus-led transitional government has largely dissipated over the seven months following this year’s February elections.
Police reform is a stark example: the process has effectively stalled, slowing from high-stakes structural overhauls to cosmetic adjustments and deep institutional paralysis.
Following the July 2024 mass uprising -- where heavy-handed crackdowns resulted in the deaths of hundreds of protesters and sparked widespread public fury -- the interim government formed a dedicated Police Reform Commission in October 2024 to dismantle the force’s colonial-era command structure. However, the new parliament allowed the reform commission’s ordinance to lapse, creating a critical legislative vacuum.
Continuous changes of guard in the police hierarchy -- swapping leaders of one political inclination for another -- often offer a false promise of organizational revamp. Such superficial shuffling does little to instill genuine professionalism across the force.
When the public finds the police missing in times of emergency, replacing the faces of force commanders cannot restore eroded trust. Beyond superficial uniform alterations, forced retirements, and sweeping bureaucratic transfers, the force remains largely the shadow of its old self.
The new government, still in its first year in office, would render an invaluable service to the citizenry by completely dismantling this legacy of political weaponization.
The force must be brought under stringent public oversight and accountability. Only then can its members effectively serve the community, actively protecting citizens from everyday lawlessness, muggings, burglaries, and land grabs.
It is deeply troubling to see how a segment of grassroots politicians today stands accused of weaponizing young children and juveniles for so-called “gang” activities -- frequently under the very nose of law enforcement.
The tragic murder of a young boy, Apratim, in Comilla has laid bare critical allegations: That persistent police neglect in addressing prior offenses by these same perpetrators allowed local juvenile gangs to swell to such dangerous proportions.
Even more discouraging is the nature of the police response following Apratim’s death. The subsequent launch of sweeping, overnight drives has led to the wholesale detention of hundreds of young people. While such knee-jerk, high-handed sweeps might temporarily succeed in shifting the spotlight away from institutional negligence, they do nothing to mend a broken law and order ecosystem.
Criminalizing our youth en masse fails to address the root problem; it denies juveniles the healthy, supportive socio-political environment they desperately need to thrive away from a life of crime.
Wholesale drives and indiscriminate detentions of adolescents universally fail to contain juvenile gang activity over the long term. While mass sweeps provide a temporary visual deterrence that may briefly appease public anxiety following high-profile crimes, they act as little more than a bandage on a deeply systemic issue.
Because mass arrests frequently rely on physical appearance, location, or arbitrary gathering spots rather than specific evidence, they end up sweeping innocent adolescents alongside hardened ringleaders. This approach fosters deep resentment towards law enforcement and severely traumatizes minors who have committed no crimes.
Furthermore, when these youths are sent to overcrowded child development centres or regular judicial custody, they receive virtually no meaningful rehabilitation. Criminological studies consistently indicate that arrested juveniles frequently return to their neighbourhoods only to regroup, recruit new members, and change their gang names -- often becoming far more hardened by their time inside.
Crucially, juvenile gangs (locally known as kishor gangs) do not operate in a vacuum. Instead, they are actively patronized by local political leaders and their criminal associates, who deploy these youths for territorial control, extortion, and political muscle.
Mass drives merely target expendable, underage foot soldiers while leaving the older, influential puppet masters entirely untouched.
Until the police force is fundamentally reformed, systemic corruption and inefficiencies will continue to lure officers into ignoring routine community policing and gang tracking, incentivizing them instead to conduct flashy mass detentions of minors while leaving politically linked adult handler networks unscathed.
The current BNP leadership and the government they administer must remain mindful of the harsh lessons a preceding BNP administration learned at a heavy cost in the early 2000s. Following the BNP’s assumption of office in late 2001, Bangladesh experienced a severe spike in violent crime, including rampant extortion, high-profile kidnappings, muggings, vigilante justice, and murders.
The response that followed -- a massive, joint military campaign known as “Operation Clean Heart” -- resulted in widespread human rights controversies that no modern, democratically-elected government should ever seek to emulate.
A reformed police force -- shielded from undue political influence and empowered to deliver public law and order professionally -- is the only sustainable deterrent against resorting to such heavy-handed military measures to tackle societal crime.
Reaz Ahmad is Editor, Dhaka Tribune.
