Bangladesh: Power Usurped Is Not Power Ordained

"He who opens a school door, closes a prison," wrote Victor Hugo—but he who kicks in the door of democracy opens the floodgates of tyranny.

Today, Dr. Muhammad Yunus stands atop the wreckage of a nation’s constitutional sanctity, crowned not by consent but by conspiracy, enthroned not by the people’s will but by the machinations of foreign plotters – the vilest American deep state, Pakistan’s dreaded ISI in league with their local direful collaborators – Jamaati butchers, Yunus, Waker in collusion with other extremum right-winger Islamist Jihadists and domestic traitors.

To seize power is not to inherit legitimacy. As the ancient Stoic Epictetus warned, “No man is free who is not master of himself.” A usurper is always a prisoner of fear—haunted by the absence of mandate, plagued by the ghosts of justice denied. And that, today, is the dismal truth visited upon Yunus and his illegitimate cabal. They may hold the instruments of state, but they do not hold the soul of Bangladesh.

Since the orchestrated coup d’état on 5 August 2024, executed in the shadows by the malign convergence of the American deep state, Pakistan’s nefarious ISI, and their local foot soldiers—the Jamaati butchers, the economic opportunists, and the jihadist fringe—Bangladesh has ceased to be a democracy. The elected government of Sheikh Hasina, steward of progress, was violently dislodged. And in its place, a hollow regime has been installed—propped up by intrigue and treachery, not by the sacred consent of 170 million citizens.

From his high-backed chair in Dhaka, Dr. Yunus, once feted in foreign capitals, now appears a tragic parody of statehood. He parades before the cameras with the tired pomp of false power, yet every gesture reeks of desperation. “To rule is easy, to govern is difficult,” said Goethe. And now, the world is teaching Yunus the difference—with cold, deliberate silence.

China speaks not. Qatar hedges. The UAE extends only a handshake. Saudi Arabia offers polite protocol and nothing more. The diplomatic world, once bursting with promises for Bangladesh, now recoils. No aid. No investment. No promises. Nothing but ceremonial phrases—the hollow poetry of disengagement: “We’re observing,” “We’re assessing,” “We’re watching.” But the subtext is unmistakable: “We do not recognize you. We do not trust you. We do not stand with you.”

Such silence is not passive—it is punitive. It is the world’s collective judgment, cloaked in diplomatic restraint. These are not allies withholding aid; these are nations repudiating a lie. The Economic Relations Division confirms it: not a single yuan from China, not a single riyal of substance from the Gulf. The economic arteries are clotted with suspicion. What greater humiliation exists for a regime than to be met not with rage—but with irrelevance?

This abandonment is not arbitrary. It is rooted in principle. Every serious actor on the world stage understands that legitimacy is the currency of statehood, and that currency cannot be forged. Agreements struck with tyrants are etched in water. Investments made in illegitimacy are destined for ruin. No enduring alliance can emerge from a regime birthed by betrayal.

As John Locke once wrote, “Wherever law ends, tyranny begins.” And in the lawless, violent severing of Sheikh Hasina’s elected mandate, tyranny has indeed begun. But it is not a tyranny that commands fear—it is one that inspires ridicule and evasion. Yunus, in less than a year, has become a cautionary tale whispered in diplomatic corridors: a man who mistook applause abroad for authority at home, who mistook flattery for legitimacy.

He has traveled—to Beijing, Doha, Dubai—sixty-five foreign trips in ten months, a mad dash for recognition. But the photos fade, the smiles are rehearsed, and the aid is absent. Every door he knocks echoes with the same hollow phrase: “We are evaluating.” These are the words spoken not to friends, but to pretenders.

Meanwhile, the ERD’s balance sheets remain barren, as empty as the regime’s moral compass. Even the most transactional allies now tread carefully. The reason is clear: investing in a usurper is like building palaces on sand.

Diplomats in Beijing, Riyadh, and Doha understand what Yunus refuses to admit: no structure built on stolen sovereignty can stand. They wait not because they are unsure—but because they are certain. Certain that the people of Bangladesh will rise. Certain that history will not be rewritten by the ink of conspiracy. And so, they remain politely aloof—watching, as one watches a fire burn itself out.

Back in Dhaka, Yunus’s courtiers fidget in anticipation—waiting for a telegram of recognition, a press release of affirmation, a nod of legitimacy. But none comes. None will. Because the international community, through its silence, is already shouting: “You are not one of us. You are not one with your people.”

Thus, the regime’s disgrace is complete. It is economic, political, moral, and existential. No matter how many choreographed photo-ops are staged, how many flags are waved, or how many speeches are given in empty halls—nothing can fabricate legitimacy. Nothing can manufacture the will of the people.

As Plato warned in The Republic, “Tyranny arises out of democracy, and the most aggravated form of tyranny and slavery out of the most extreme liberty.” Yunus, having hijacked our liberty, now presides over a tyranny that is already devouring itself.

The world has judged. It will not say so openly, but its judgment is etched in its silence, in its refusals, in its withheld handshakes and delayed investments.

And so, this so-called “interim government” withers in full view of the world. Its reign will be brief. Its shame will be enduring.

The people shall endure. And they shall prevail. Because truth is stubborn, and justice never sleeps.

Sent -In by: Joy Bangla. Joy Bangabandhu.

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