From Judgment to Farce: The Unraveling of Bangladesh’s War Crimes Court

More than five decades after the Liberation War of 1971, Bangladesh still wrestles with the unhealed wounds inflicted by the genocidal campaign unleashed by the Pakistan Army and their local collaborators—most infamously, the Jamaat-e-Islami and its militant offshoots Al-Badr, Al-Shams, and the Razakars. Today, the nation stands again on the precipice of a historical reckoning, not because the past has been forgotten, but because the ghosts of 1971 have returned—this time draped in the garments of legitimacy, and disturbingly, under the protection of state apparatus and international apathy.

In the dark hours of March 25, 1971, Pakistan’s military regime launched "Operation Searchlight"—a ruthless campaign to crush Bengali aspirations for autonomy. The brutality that followed was apocalyptic: systematic executions, mass rapes, village burnings, and a targeted elimination of Bengali intellectuals. The Jamaat-e-Islami and its militias facilitated this genocide, often invoking sacred religious phrases—“Naray-e-Takbir! Allahu Akbar! Pakistan Zindabad!”—as they slaughtered innocents. I witnessed firsthand the inhumanity of their crimes: the dead left unburied, the bodies devoured by scavengers, and a sinister pride in their acts of terror.

In the aftermath of independence, the foundational vision of a secular, democratic Bangladesh was clear. Justice for war crimes was an uncompromising imperative. The International Crimes Tribunal (ICT), established in 2009 under the Awami League government, was a courageous step toward this end. It succeeded in trying and sentencing numerous notorious war criminals—including ATM Azharul Islam, a senior figure in the Al-Badr militia. Found guilty of the execution of over 1,400 civilians and other heinous atrocities, his death sentence was affirmed by the Supreme Court in 2019. For many, this was a moral victory long overdue.

Yet, history’s course is not linear. On February 25, 2025, the Appellate Division of the Supreme Court, now allegedly under the influence of the newly established puppet regime led by Professor Dr. Muhammad Yunus and his cohort Waker, re-opened the cases of convicted war criminals like Azhar. This decision sent shockwaves through the country. It signaled a disturbing capitulation to the very forces responsible for the country's bloodied birth.

Following a carefully orchestrated political conspiracy, Sheikh Hasina—the longest-serving Prime Minister of Bangladesh and daughter of the Father of the Nation, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman—was ousted from office in an unlawful military coup on August 5, 2024. Orchestrated with the alleged backing of foreign intelligence networks, including the CIA and Pakistan’s ISI, and executed by local collaborators including elements within the Bangladesh Army and the Jamaat-e-Islami political complex, this coup marks a tragic regression into authoritarianism.

American Ambassador Peter D. Haas, serving in Bangladesh from 2022 to mid-2024, played an unusually provocative role. Eschewing diplomatic neutrality, he brazenly aligned himself with opposition forces, often appearing in public alongside leaders of Jamaat and BNP—the party born out of a military dictatorship. His interference in domestic affairs, culminating in his resignation and reappointment as a strategic adviser to an American energy corporation, underscores a broader strategy of undermining Bangladesh’s sovereignty through hybrid warfare—political manipulation masked as democratic advocacy.

In July and August 2024, a deceptively organic student movement opposing a government quota policy was weaponized by external and internal forces. According to credible reports and firsthand field-level accounts, madrasa students and slum dwellers were abducted, stripped of traditional attire, and forced to wear Western clothing before being massacred. The aim was clear: to discredit Sheikh Hasina's administration and engineer social unrest as a pretext for regime change. These acts of terror—horrifically reminiscent of 1971—were perpetrated with chilling precision by Jamaati militants, BNP loyalists, and rogue elements within the armed forces.

Now, under the Yunus-Waker government—a regime propped up by foreign intelligence and local religious extremists—the country is under siege. Government offices, courts, educational institutions, the police, and the army are said to be occupied by anti-liberation forces. The very tribunal once tasked with delivering justice for 1971 has been co-opted; its prosecutors and judges allegedly replaced by Jamaat sympathizers. More than 50 fabricated cases have been lodged against Sheikh Hasina and Awami League leaders, while the true instigators of recent violence remain untouched.

Even more egregious is the effort to sanitize the legacy of war criminals. Figures like Azhar, Golam Azam, and others are being reimagined not as genocidal architects but as misunderstood patriots or religious martyrs. Their defense invokes Islam—a grotesque manipulation of a faith that preaches justice and compassion. The deliberate conflation of religion and politics in Bangladesh today echoes the very ideology the liberation war sought to extinguish: the two-nation theory, now resurrected under a new guise.

The consequences are catastrophic. A once-ascending Bangladesh, poised to become a regional economic and development model, is now slipping into a state of darkness. Institutions are crumbling. Civil liberties are eroded. The judiciary is compromised. Fear, censorship, and disinformation reign. The country, which had nearly vanquished its ghosts, now finds them seated at the table of power.

Yet, all is not lost. Sheikh Hasina remains the constitutionally elected Prime Minister; she has not formally resigned. Her enduring presence is a defiant symbol of resistance. The people of Bangladesh, forged in the crucible of 1971, are not passive. The legacy of that year is not merely historical—it is alive in memory, in identity, and in the collective conscience of a nation that once rose to defeat tyranny.

The review petition of Azhar must be unequivocally rejected. Justice delayed is already an injustice suffered. These men—Azhar, Golam Azam, and their ilk—must face the full consequences of their crimes. The gallows, not revisionist narratives, are their due. Their crimes were not political missteps—they were crimes against humanity.

The international community must take heed. Silence in the face of rising authoritarianism and the rehabilitation of war criminals is complicity. Bangladesh's allies must speak out, not just in defense of Sheikh Hasina or the Awami League, but in defense of the truth of 1971, and the justice that countless martyrs died for.

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