CIHS – Centre for Integrated and Holistic Studies

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Denials Versus Corrective Action

On this world social justice day, industrialised economies should pledge to take affirmative action to assuage indigenous communities that were subject to abuse, genocide & extinction. Rohan Giri World Social Justice Day seeks to encourage societies to slow down and confront challenging truths. It is not intended to elevate authority or reinforce inherited moral hierarchies. But, global discourse on social justice frequently takes a typical path. Bharat is scrutinized with its caste system portrayed as proof of civilizational failure whereas industrial world speaks from a position of purported ethical maturity. What’s rarely discussed is comparison of how different countries have treated indigenous and marginalized populations not through slogans, but by law, policy, consequences and lived experience. Let’s not forget that modern industrial economies were not built on organic progress but on conquest after bloody wars. When European powers entered American continent at the end of fifteenth century, they found cultures with intricate political systems, agricultural knowledge and cultural continuity that dated back generations. Scholars believe that indigenous population of US before European contact ranged between 50 and 60 million. By the early seventeenth century, this number fell by 90 percent. This virtual extinction was not due to disease, sickness or lack of facilities. Colonial records show that forced work, deliberate famine, mass killings and displacement were used as imperial instruments. In places like Caribbean, entire indigenous populations were eradicated within decades. Potosí silver mines in Bolivia reflect dark reality. Millions of indigenous people were forced to mine under harsh conditions using methods such as mita, a Spanish colonial forced-labour system that compelled indigenous communities to work in mines under brutal conditions. Owing to high mortality rate, colonial administrators considered indigenous labour to be disposable. The extracted silver from these mines bank-rolled European trade, wars and early industrial expansion. This pattern got duplicated in sugar plantations, lumber exploitation zones and later industrial agriculture. Indigenous territory was not incorporated into the contemporary state through consent or reform. It was seized, cleared and monetized. In North America, the story was no different. Treaties with Native American tribes were routinely broken as settlers moved westward. By the late nineteenth century, most tribes were restricted to reservations, typically on marginal terrain unsuitable for long-term economic viability. Indian boarding school system that was prevalent in late 1800s until the twentieth century forcibly separated indigenous students from their families. The explicit purpose was cultural erasure. Children were punished for speaking their languages or following their rituals. Canada’s residential school system followed the same reasoning and lasted until 1996. Official investigations have revealed pervasive physical, emotional and sexual abuse. Mass graves uncovered around former school locations have resurrected scars that were never fully healed. Europe frequently separates itself from colonial misdeeds by pointing to Atlantic, but its indigenous inhabitants tell a different version. Sami people of Norway, Sweden and Finland endured decades of forced assimilation. Their languages were discouraged or prohibited in schools. Traditional livelihoods like reindeer herding were affected by national borders, mining operations and infrastructure construction. Recognition of these abuses occurred of late through investigation panels and formal apologies, long after economic and cultural damage has become irreversible. These histories aren’t stuck in the past. Their ramifications are now measurable. Indigenous communities in US and Canada have much higher poverty rates than national average. Life expectancy is lower. Suicides, substance misuse, and imprisonment are disproportionately high. In Latin America, indigenous land defenders are among the most targeted campaigners facing violence for opposing mining, logging and dam construction projects. Justice in these communities is frequently manifested as symbolic acknowledgement rather than tangible compensation. United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, adopted in 2007 upholds self-determination, land rights, cultural autonomy, and free, prior, and informed consent. However, it is non-binding. Many industrialized countries supported it despite maintaining policies that blatantly clash with its values. Large-scale development projects on indigenous lands continue to be allowed without any substantive consultation. Legal conflicts for land compensation span generations. The gap between word and material behaviour remains large. Against this backdrop, Bharat’s treatment of its indigenous and marginalized populations must be evaluated both scientifically and on the basis of evidence. Bharat has more than 100 million tribal people, making it one of the world’s largest indigenous communities. Unlike settler states, Bharat did not establish its national identity through eradication or displacement of these populations. At independence, Indian Constitution clearly recognized domestic social inequity. Untouchability was abolished by law. Affirmative action in education, employment and political representation was built into the constitutional structure. Tribal regions were given special administrative structures to protect their territory, culture and local government. This approach is important since it reflects intent. Bharat never pretended that inequality and exclusion did not exist. It assigned an obligation to the state to right historical wrongs. The results are varied, but the trend is clear. Literacy rates in indigenous communities, while still lower than national average have increased dramatically in recent decades. Political representation for Scheduled Tribes and Castes is guaranteed in legislatures, local governments and public institutions. Courts often hear disputes involving caste and tribal rights, accepting them as systemic issues rather than disputing their legitimacy. Laws that recognize forest and land rights strive, albeit poorly, to undo rather than normalize colonial dispossession. Welfare schemes, educational reservations and targeted development initiatives are specifically designed with the assumption that past injustice necessitates governmental action. These policies are freely debated, challenged in courts and scrutinized in public discourse. The struggle is on-going but the framework is intended to repair rather than eliminate. When comparisons are made honestly, distinction becomes evident. In industrial world, indigenous peoples were viewed as barriers to progress. Their customs were to be eradicated and their land exploited. Recognition arrived centuries later, often following irreversible loss. Marginalized communities in Bharagt have been regarded as members of the nation-state since its creation. The Constitution regarded them as rights-bearing citizens whose advancement was a collective national responsibility. This does not mean that caste discrimination has ended. It hasn’t. It still has

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Hindu Pogrom Under a Nobel Laureate’s Watch in Bangladesh

Ethnic Cleansing of Bangladeshi Hindus A Nobel Peace Prize is not a shield against scrutiny. Bangladesh’s post-August 2024 reality demands a hard, evidence-led assessment: violence against Hindus has escalated into a pattern that aligns with internationally recognised elements of ethnic cleansing. This is not a claim made lightly, nor is it built on rhetoric. It is grounded in documented indicators that appear repeatedly across historical cases, from the Balkans to Rwanda and the forced flight of Kashmiri Hindus. Our report, “Hindu Pogrom Under a Nobel Laureate’s Watch in Bangladesh,” examines what changed after the extra-constitutional transition that installed Muhammad Yunus as head of the interim administration. In the immediate aftermath of Sheikh Hasina’s ouster, Hindu homes and temples were specifically targeted, and minority families attempted to flee toward India. This is the first stage seen in many ethnic cleansing trajectories: a sudden collapse of security, followed by identity-targeted attacks that signal “you are not safe here.” Reuters reporting captured these early markers, including vandalism of Hindu temples and homes and attempted flight by minorities. Ethnic cleansing is defined less by slogans and more by method. The method in Bangladesh is visible through six elements. Forced displacement is the predictable output when a minority is subjected to sustained terror and sees no credible protection from the state. When families attempt to flee, when communities retreat into guarded enclaves, when daily life becomes a risk calculation, the displacement is no longer voluntary. It is coerced Violence and terror form the second element. The pattern includes killings by shooting, hacking, abduction, lynching, and arson. The purpose is not only to kill, but to send a message to all remaining members of the community. Dipu Chandra Das’s lynching and burning is an emblematic example of violence designed to intimidate, not merely to harm. Deliberate attacks on civilians are the third element. The victims are not combatants. They are teachers, traders, community leaders, elderly couples, workers, and youth. They are targeted in homes, workplaces, and transit routes, consistent with identity-based selection rather than incidental crime. In the first post-ouster phase, minority groups documented attacks on Hindu homes and temples across multiple districts, underscoring organised targeting rather than isolated incidents. Destruction of property is the fourth element, and it is a strategic tool. Burning homes, looting businesses, and desecrating temples do more than punish. They make return difficult, erase cultural presence, and collapse economic survival. These are classic “remove the population by destroying the conditions of life” tactics. Reuters recorded that hundreds of Hindu homes and businesses were vandalised and multiple temples damaged during the initial post-ouster violence. Confinement is the fifth element. Even without formal camps, a minority can be confined by fear. When communities self-restrict movement, rely on volunteer night-guards, and avoid public visibility, they are being functionally contained. This is how pressure accumulates until exit becomes the only perceived option. Systematic policy is the sixth element. Ethnic cleansing does not require a written decree. In many cases, it proceeds through the combination of organised extremist violence and state failure: weak protection, delayed response, denial of communal targeting, and persistent impunity. Here, the core accountability question is state responsibility. Minority groups have accused the interim government of failing to protect Hindus, and the Yunus administration has denied those allegations. Denial, in the presence of repeated identity-targeted attacks, is not neutrality. It is an enabling posture. This is where the Yunus interim administration becomes central. The issue is not whether Yunus personally directs each assault. The issue is whether the state under his leadership has fulfilled its duty to prevent, protect, investigate, prosecute, and deter identity-based violence. When the outcome is repeated killings, recurring temple attacks, widespread property destruction, and the steady tightening of fear around a minority community, responsibility does not stop at the street-level perpetrator. It rises to the governing authority. The report also examines the role of Islamist forces operating in the current environment. Independent reporting notes that hardline Islamist actors have become more visible and influential since the fall of Hasina. This matters because ethnic cleansing campaigns typically require both ideological mobilisation and operational impunity: a narrative that dehumanises the target, and a system that fails to punish the perpetrators. Bangladesh is at a decision point. It can either reassert protection for all citizens and rebuild the rule of law, or drift toward a majoritarian model where minorities survive only as tolerated remnants. The world has seen this script before. The lesson from Rwanda and the Balkans is that early warning indicators are not “political noise.” They are the architecture of atrocity. What is required now is not performative condemnation. It is measurable action: robust protection for minority localities, transparent investigations, prosecutions that reach organisers and inciters, disruption of extremist mobilisation networks, and independent monitoring that makes denial impossible. Without these steps, the pattern described in our report will continue to harden. The Nobel label does not change the facts on the ground. The responsibility of the interim government is to stop the trajectory. If it cannot, it must be treated internationally as enabling an ethnic cleansing process by omission, denial, and impunity.

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Venezuela Case & UN - Crisis of Global Institutions

Venezuela Case & UN: Crisis of Global Institutions

The US aggression on Venezuela and the forcible capture of President Maduro raise a serious question about the efficiency of the UN as a global watchdog. It’s time to examine whether nations, which designed the post-1945 system, still regard themselves as committed to it, or treat the UN anchored treaty-based project as optional. Rahul Pawa On January 3, 2026, the U.S. forces launched a surprise strike inside Venezuela and forcibly removed President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, flying them to New York to face the U.S. charges. Reports described explosions in Caracas and the Maduro Government denounced an “imperialist attack” on national sovereignty. President Trump boasted on social media that the strike was carried out “in conjunction with U.S. law enforcement,” heralding Maduro’s capture as a triumph. The world responded with alarm. Venezuela’s interim Vice President, Delcy Rodríguez, demanded proof that the couple was alive. Russia and China voiced their strongest objections. Japan stressed the safety of its nationals, reaffirmed its commitment to “freedom, democracy, and the rule of law,” and indicated that it would work with G7 partners to help stabilise the region, while India expressed “deep concern” and reaffirmed support for the security of the Indian community and the people of Venezuela. Even within the United States, Secretary of State Marco Rubio acknowledged at a press briefing that Congress had not been consulted. These events raise stark legal questions. The core issues are jus ad bellum limits on the use of force, the prohibition on intervention and extraterritorial enforcement jurisdiction, the personal immunities of incumbent senior officials, and the consequences if the incursion triggered an international armed conflict. U.S. constitutional processes and the War Powers Resolution may constrain American decision-makers as a matter of domestic law, but they do not alter Venezuela’s rights under international law. Armed Assault or Law Enforcement Operation? Under the U.N. Charter, no state may unilaterally use military force against another except with Security Council approval or genuine self-defense. The US administration claims this was a cross-border “law enforcement” operation, but international law treats armed assaults like this as uses of force. As one expert summary notes, counter-narcotics or “illegitimacy” justifications cannot override Article 2(4)’s prohibition. Legal scholars agree that drug trafficking, even if a global scourge, is a criminal matter, not an armed conflict that justifies invasion. Customary international law adds another dimension: sitting heads of state have absolute immunity from arrest by foreign courts. Under the Arrest Warrant case and related practice, Maduro, as the incumbent Venezuelan President enjoys complete “inviolability” from forcible seizure. The U.S. might say it no longer recognises Maduro as legitimate, but international law does not allow one country to strip another’s leader of all protection while still holding it to its obligations. Even if Washington claims Noriega-like precedent, “unilateral kidnapping is unlawful regardless of recognition, and immunity questions aggravate, rather than cure, the illegality.”. Likewise, the principle of non-intervention is clear. “Cross-border apprehension” by force without the host state’s consent is an “unlawful exercise of enforcement power”. By sneaking in Marines or special ops to snatch Maduro, the U.S. bypassed all Venezuelan authorities and UN mechanisms. It also bypassed its own procedures by not informing Congress. As France’s foreign minister noted, the U.S., a Security Council member violated the principle of non-use of force and imposed an external solution, warning that “no sustainable political solution can be imposed from the outside” By employing bombs and missiles on Caracas, the operation arguably triggered an international armed conflict between two states. If so, the full body of international humanitarian law (IHL) applies. Every strike must meet IHL’s distinction and proportionality tests. For example, reported strikes that knocked out civilian power infrastructure would be illegal if the civilian harm outweighed any military gain. Moreover, once Maduro was captured, he became a protected person under the Geneva Conventions. He and his wife would be entitled to safe detention conditions and eventual release or trial, but under domestic law, not as prisoners of war. Importantly, even the abduction itself violates the duty to take “prisoners” only lawfully. In practical terms, neither side seems prepared to declare war, but the weapons used leave no doubt: the U.S. struck fixed targets with lethal force on foreign soil. Still, any escalation (for example armed skirmishes with Venezuelan forces) would immediately invoke full wartime protections. The Maduro abduction cannot be seen in isolation. In recent years, permanent members of the UN Security Council have repeatedly tested, stretched, or disregarded legal constraints: China has rejected the legal effect of the South China Sea arbitral award; Russia’s conduct in Ukraine has triggered sustained allegations of Charter breach; and the United States has its own history of unilateral uses of force, including the closely analogous 1989 intervention in Panama (Operation Just Cause). Each episode erodes confidence that treaties and the Charter’s restraints bind the most powerful as much as the rest. The United States is central to this story not only because it helped design the post-1945 order and was among the earliest to ratify the Charter, but also because its subsequent engagement with the UN’s treaty architecture has been selective. This is illustrated by continued non-ratification of major UN-linked instruments such as the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC), the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW), and the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS). Those choices do not reduce UN Charter obligations, but they sharpen doubts about commitment to the wider treaty-based project the UN Charter was designed to anchor. Unsurprisingly, the fiercest reaction came from Russia and China. After a China‑sponsored UNSC emergency session, several members condemned the raid as illegal, echoing concerns about a dangerous precedent. Russia’s Foreign Ministry condemned the raid online as “an act of armed aggression.” Intriguingly, France’s envoy reminded that any UN Security Council permanent member breaking the force ban would have “grave consequences for global security”. The cumulative message is clear: when the great powers act unilaterally, the

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Myanmar’s Strategic Crossroads China’s Influence, Western Interests and a Turbulent Election

Arun Anand Myanmar (formerly Burma) sits at a critical crossroads in Asia, both geographically and geopolitically. The country’s location – bordering China, India, Bangladesh, Thailand, and Laos, with a long coastline on the Bay of Bengal and Andaman Sea – makes it a bridge between South Asia and Southeast Asia. In fact, Myanmar is often described as the “main connecting hub” linking East, South, and Southeast Asia. Its shores provide access to the Indian Ocean’s major shipping lanes, which has long attracted great power interest. In short, Myanmar’s geostrategic location grants it outsized importance: it is the only Southeast Asian nation sharing borders with both India and China, and it offers a land gateway from the Bay of Bengal into the heart of Asia.

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Democracy, Disorder and the Question of Legitimacy in Bangladesh - An Interview with Sheikh Hasina

Democracy, Disorder and the Question of Legitimacy in Bangladesh

Sheikh Hasina’s Interview With Arun Anand In an exclusive and wide-ranging conversation with author and columnist Arun Anand, former Bangladesh Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina breaks her silence on the dramatic events that led to her departure from Dhaka, the violent derailment of the 2024 student protests, and what she describes as the systematic dismantling of democratic institutions under the Yunus-led interim regime. Speaking with rare candour, Hasina addresses allegations against her government, warns of rising extremism and minority persecution, and outlines the constitutional and political conditions she believes are essential for Bangladesh’s democratic recovery. From regional geopolitics and relations with India to the future of the Awami League and the legitimacy of proposed elections, this interview offers an unfiltered account from a leader who governed Bangladesh for over a decade and continues to shape its political destiny.   Question: Could you share what factors influenced your decision to leave Bangladesh, and what assurances you would need to consider returning? Answer: What began as a genuine student movement was escalated by radicalists who led the crowds into violence, destroying state and communications infrastructure and burning down police stations. By then, this was no longer a peaceful civic movement, but a violent mob.  My instinct has always been to protect our country and our citizens, and it was not an easy decision to leave while my country erupted into lawlessness. I regret that I was compelled to leave, but it was a decision I took to minimize any further loss of life, and to ensure the safety of people around me. For me to return, Bangladesh must restore constitutional governance and the rule of law. This means lifting the unlawful ban on the Awami League, releasing political prisoners detained on fabricated charges, and holding genuinely free elections. You cannot claim democratic legitimacy while banning the party elected nine times by the people. Question: How do you reflect on your government’s handling of the 2024 protests, and how do you respond to the concerns raised about the use of force and the legal cases that followed? Answer: In the initial days, we allowed students to protest freely and accepted their demands. Then extremists transformed peaceful demonstrations into a violent insurrection. We responded as any government would when faced with burning police stations and attacks on state infrastructure; we acted to restore order and to prevent further bloodshed. I attempted to gain a full picture of the events in August 2024 by establishing a judicial inquiry commission to investigate every death. The conspiracy behind these attacks became clear only later when Yunus immediately dissolved this inquiry, released convicted terrorists, and granted blanket immunity to those he now glorifies as ‘July warriors.’ These same actors marched on the Indian embassy last week, no doubt emboldened by the protection of the interim government. If there were genuine concerns about excessive force or wrongful prosecutions, why destroy the very mechanism designed to investigate them? The truth is that Yunus has consistently thwarted attempts to establish what really happened in July and August 2024, because an impartial investigation would reveal the orchestrated nature of the violence. Question: What is your assessment of the current Yunus-led regime, and how do you view Bangladesh’s future—both with the proposed February 2026 elections and in the longer term? Answer: We cannot forget that Yunus governs without a single vote from the Bangladeshi people. He has placed extremists in cabinet positions, released convicted terrorists, and done little or nothing to stop attacks on religious minorities. The economy that quadrupled during my tenure is now stalling. Yunus came to power promising reform yet all he has sown division and banned the country’s oldest and most popular political party, thus disenfranchising millions. These elections can never be legitimate if the Awami League is banned. My concern is that extremists are using Yunus to project an acceptable international face while they radicalise our institutions domestically. But Bangladesh and its people have extraordinary resilience and an unwavering belief in the power of participatory democracy. I trust that democracy will prevail and that we will set our great country back on the path to recovery and growth. Question: Looking back, how do you view the debate over democratic space during your tenure, and what reforms or new approaches would you prioritize if given another opportunity to lead? Answer: I believe our greatest achievement as a party was the restoration of democracy in the 1990s. When I returned to Bangladesh following my father’s assassination, the biggest challenge facing our country was a lack of popular representation. Those years of military rule and unelected leadership taught us valuable lessons about the power of democracy that we never took for granted during our time in government. As a government, we encouraged political engagement and participation across the nation. Democracy thrives with healthy opposition, yet some of those parties chose to boycott previous elections, restricting the democratic choice of millions of ordinary citizens. It is interesting that those who accused us of restricting democratic space now rule without a single vote, have forced judges to resign, and have detained journalists brave enough to critique their increasingly authoritarian grip on our nation. The question isn’t what reforms I would implement, it’s whether Bangladesh will retain any democratic institutions to reform. We are proud of our record in government. During those 15 years, we helped to lift millions out of poverty, empowered women, and transformed Bangladesh into one of Asia’s fastest-growing economies. We consistently protected the rights of minorities and prevented radicalism from eroding our democracy. It takes a legitimate and strong government to forge our country’s place both domestically and internationally, and we did so by operating within constitutional boundaries. We were repeatedly mandated by voters at the ballot box. Question: How do you assess the country’s current political course under the interim government, particularly in terms of national stability and long-term strategic interests? Answer: The Yunus government took power with a wave of western support from those who confused economic success with political

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Will Religion Limit Talent Hiring in US

Will Religion Limit Talent Hiring in US?

JD Vance prodding that businesses hiring personnel from other communities and countries were ‘anti-Christian’ is simply gross. CIHS Desk For first time in recent history of United States of America (USA), faith and religion have been introduced to run businesses, economy, make investments and hiring of personnel. Valuing diverse culture of America may not be against basic ethos or tenets of that country. But to suggest that as a ‘Christian nation,’ US companies and businesses have to rethink employing talented people at cost-effective wages from third world is gross.  US Vice President JD Vance described America as a “Christian nation” and said we need to protect American jobs from cheaper workers of other countries. Speaking at Turning Point’s America First conference 2025, Vance prodded that employing people of other origins at competitive terms was not part of ‘true Christian politics’. Well, Vance may have to be shown the mirror. Not many would complain about ‘America First’ policy of President Donald Trump or his Vice President. But to give a religious or faith related twist to hiring, employment, running businesses is seriously untenable. The Republican eager to launch his presidential campaign in 2028 may have overstepped ideologically and pursued a sectarian, politically volatile agenda. While Christians of different denominations form US majority polity today, US itself came into being on the graves of Red Indians. In a globalized economy, flexibility in running businesses and recruitment of personnel based on their education, training, talent, value-addition, deliverables and costs must be the basis. Businesses and industry in US may not like to take J D Vance too seriously and reject a large number of their personnel just because they are not Christian or do not subscribe to his political agenda of exclusivity. In case businesses do limit their choice in talent hunt to American Christians as suggested by Vance, what about the large mass of atheists, agnostics and other minorities? While pandering to 162 million Christians of Protestants, Catholics is rather tempting, but to reject others from within and outside irrespective of talent and their contribution in terms of economic value is unsustainable even in short term. Is J D Vance making out a case against those coming for jobs, valued contribution to American economy? Does Vance not understand as to how many universities and institutions run just due to students and professionals from different countries? Is Vance laying the roadmap for Christian and ‘others’ kind of political campaigns that’s pugnacious? American cultural and civilizational evolution has subscribed to making it the ‘land of high value workers’ irrespective of their origin or pay packets they take home. Does Vance not appreciate contribution of religious minorities that include Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Jains or people of colour? From the days of George Washington, Church has had a big say in governing United States though there was huge resistance to religious interference in state’s affairs. Now, extending it to private sector is something that the Catholic turned Vance proposes to do. This will have serious implications for American businesses as liberal access to talent globally sustained them till now. And, non-availability or limited choice would translate into gaps in high value chains across industrial and services sectors of American economy. Big question therefore several analysts posed was governing America by the country’s constitution or Apostles? Will ‘Ten Commandments have upper hand over Bill of Rights? Several policymakers within Trump administration think that JD Vance postulation of a Christian nation may not allow for hiring the brightest and most talented human resources to compete with China. Exclusive or restrictive policies may not only restrict opportunities for other communities but force top technology giants to shift their investments to more competitive, flexible and open markets.

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A Nation at Risk While the World Watches

A Nation at Risk While the World Watches

By R K Raina The events that unfolded in Dhaka this week should end any remaining illusion that Bangladesh’s current political drift is a contained or internal matter. On Wednesday afternoon, hundreds of protesters marched towards the Indian High Commission under the banner of July Oikya, raising anti-India slogans and issuing open threats against a diplomatic mission. Police restraint prevented immediate escalation, but the message was unmistakable: radical forces now feel emboldened enough to challenge diplomatic norms in broad daylight. The protest was not spontaneous. July Oikya, a front comprising several groups linked to the July mass uprising, had announced its “March to Indian High Commission” in advance. Its leaders warned that they would forcibly enter the High Commission if their demands were not met. These included the return of individuals convicted in the so-called July massacre case, including former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, and an end to what they described as “Indian conspiracies” against Bangladesh. Such rhetoric mirrors the familiar language of Islamist mobilisation across the region, where external enemies are invoked to justify internal radicalisation. What makes this incident especially alarming is not merely the hostility directed at India, but the broader political context in which it occurred. Several fundamentalist and extremist figures, previously detained on terrorism-related charges, have been released in recent months under the current interim administration. Many of these elements are now active on the streets, shaping protest narratives and openly threatening foreign missions. This is not accidental. It is the predictable outcome of legitimising radical actors under the pretext of political transition. Threatening a foreign high commission violates the most basic norms of the diplomatic community. When such acts are tolerated, or downplayed as expressions of popular anger, the consequences extend far beyond bilateral relations. They signal a breakdown of state authority and a willingness to allow extremist mobilisation to dictate political space. This moment must be understood within Bangladesh’s longer historical arc. The country was born in 1971 as a rejection of Pakistan’s ideological model. Bengali nationalism asserted that language, culture and democratic choice mattered more than religious uniformity imposed by the state. Sheikh Mujibur Rahman articulated this vision decades earlier, insisting that Bengal’s history and identity could not be erased. That vision guided Bangladesh through its most successful periods of economic growth and social stability. The forces now gaining ground stand in direct opposition to that legacy. Pakistan’s role in this trajectory is being conspicuously ignored. Since 1971, Islamabad has never reconciled itself to the idea of a secular, culturally confident Bangladesh. Its historical hostility to Bengali identity culminated in genocide, and its ideological influence has since flowed through organisations that opposed Bangladesh’s independence. Jamaat-e-Islami, banned for its collaboration with Pakistan during the liberation war and now politically rehabilitated, remains the clearest example. Its ideological alignment with Pakistan is neither incidental nor historical trivia; it is central to the current moment. Yet while these forces resurface, much of the  world has chosen silence. Worse, some have framed recent developments as a domestic political correction, urging restraint while avoiding any serious engagement with the ideological direction Bangladesh is being pushed towards. Treating the rise of radical street power, the intimidation of diplomatic missions and the release of extremist figures as internal matters is not neutrality. It is abdication. This selective blindness sets a dangerous precedent. Terrorism, it appears, is being judged differently depending on the target and the geography. Threats against Indian diplomatic property are brushed aside, while the same actors would be condemned instantly if they appeared near other embassies. Such double standards undermine the very international norms. The regional consequences are serious. South Asia is already burdened by fragile borders, unresolved conflicts and ideological fault lines. Allowing Bangladesh to slide towards Pakistan-style politics, marked by street radicalism, ideological hostility and economic uncertainty, risks destabilising an entire neighbourhood. The early economic signals are already troubling. Political instability and radical mobilisation have begun to erode confidence in what was once one of Asia’s most promising growth stories. Equally at stake is Bangladesh’s cultural future. The sustained assault on symbols of the liberation movement, and the replacement of Bengali nationalism with political Islam represent an attempt to rewrite the country’s founding narrative. History shows that such projects do not end with symbolism. They reshape education, law and social norms, often irreversibly. World policymakers should be under no illusion. Pakistan itself is a case study in how tolerating or enabling radical forces for short-term stability leads to long-term dysfunction. Decades of engagement have failed to undo the damage caused by ideological capture of the state. To allow Bangladesh to move down the same path is not a policy error; it is a strategic failure. The warning signs today are far clearer. Threats to diplomatic missions, the release of extremists and the open mobilisation of radical fronts are not normal features of democratic transition. They are indicators of state erosion. If the world continues to look away, it will share responsibility for what follows. The erosion of peace in this region, the empowerment of extremist networks and the slow destruction of Bengali cultural identity will not remain confined within Bangladesh’s borders. Silence, in this case, is not caution. It is complicity. (Author is a former diplomat and policy commentator focused on South Asian geopolitics, Tibet and India’s neighbourhood. He contributes to leading think tanks and policy platforms on regional and civilisational issues.)

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1971 Genocide and the Unhealed Scars of Bangladesh

1971 Genocide and the Unhealed Scars of Bangladesh

Bangladesh may paper over its wounds one by one, but the scars of systematic genocide during 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War will remain permanent.  Pummy M. Pandita The 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War was marked by a systematic campaign of genocide carried out by the Pakistan Army and its supporting forces, Razakars, against the Bengali population, pro-independence activists, intellectuals and civilians. The Razakar Force, officially established by the Pakistan Army under the command of General Tikka Khan and acknowledged as a proxy paramilitary entity, was pivotal in the perpetration of these offenses at the direct command from Pakistan. More than fifty years post-independence, Bangladesh persistently pursued international acknowledgment and a formal apology from Pakistan; however, these requests remain unmet. The enduring impact of violence and denial has resulted in lasting sociopolitical wounds that continue to manifest in both domestic and diplomatic contexts. Established pursuant to the East Pakistan Razakars Ordinance issued in August 1971, this militia group was intentionally created to serve as a local support mechanism for Pakistan’s counter-insurgency efforts against the Bengalis of erstwhile East Pakistan. The establishment and functioning of this militia group were crucial to the genocidal tactics employed by the military leadership of Pakistan in order to stifle the aspirations for independence from Pakistan. The contingent comprised roughly 50,000 volunteers, primarily sourced from Islamist groupings in Pakistan political groups including Jamaat-e-Islami, Al Badr, Al Shams and others that resisted Bengali autonomy. In stark contrast to purported accounts, the Razakars were not merely engaged in “internal security” operations; they were complicit in heinous acts of mass murder, sexual violence, torture and terror directed at civilians, with a particular focus on Hindu communities, political dissidents, scholars and advocates for independence from Pakistan. After the Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971, approximately 200,000 women and girls, predominantly Hindus, were raped by the Pakistani Army and its allied proxies (Razakars). These heinous acts were part of an effort to create a “pure” Muslim race in Bangladesh. The targeting of Hindu women has continued, with sexual violence being used to intimidate and displace Hindu families.  Multiple thoroughly recorded massacres during 1971 by Razakars alongside the Pakistan Army, encompassing extensive killings in Jathibhanga (approximately 3,000–3,500 victims), Gabha Narerkathi (95–100 Hindu victims), Akhira and Char Bhadrasan, among others, each exemplifying methodical assaults on defenseless populations. In December 2019, almost fifty years post Bangladeshi independence, the Government of Bangladesh released an official enumeration of 10,789 individuals recognized as Razakars, a clear initiative to identify and document those who supported the Pakistan Army’s operations against the Bengali population. The aim was to guarantee that future generations retain awareness of the genuine perpetrators of violence and treason, opposing any efforts to obscure or sanitise this historical narrative. Notwithstanding these actions, the pursuit of justice remains unfulfilled and the scars of history endure. The lack of an official apology transcends mere diplomatic obstruction; it signifies a refusal to acknowledge historical responsibility, thereby exacerbating the anguish of survivors, the families of victims and the broader communities deeply affected by the events of 1971. For a significant segment of Bangladeshi society, especially among Hindu communities that were disproportionately targeted, the ongoing lack of recognition constitutes not merely an omission but a deliberate erasure. It denies victims and survivors both justice and historical recognition, making their suffering invisible and original crimes even worse. This silence reinforces impunity, invalidates experienced trauma and indicates a systemic reluctance to address the violence perpetrated by Razakars and Pakistan Army against these communities. The Razakar legacy stands as a profound and enduring mark in the collective consciousness of Bangladesh, serving as a proof to the genocidal tactics employed by the Pakistan Army and its accomplices. It highlights the necessity for healing from mass atrocities, which hinges on the pursuit of truth and formal accountability, elements that cannot be fully achieved without clear recognition and apology from those who hold historical responsibility. The plight of Hindu communities in present-day Bangladesh finds its roots in the tragic events of the 1971 Liberation War and this suffering has persisted in a sporadic manner throughout the subsequent decades. In the year 1971, the Pakistan Army, in conjunction with the Razakars, engaged in state-sanctioned violence that resulted in widespread atrocities, including mass killings, sexual violence and the deliberate persecution of the Hindu community as a distinct religious group. The immediate consequences resulted in significant refugee movements and a sustained demographic reduction of Hindus in Bangladesh. Since the attainment of independence from Pakistan, there has been a recurring pattern of communal violence, biased governance practices, assaults on property and places of worship and a prevailing sense of impunity for those who commit such acts. This troubling trend has notably escalated during periods of political instability in 2024–25, resulting in cycles characterised by fear, displacement and the erosion of rights. Historical context: targeted violence in 1971 “Operation Searchlight” on March 25, 1971, started the Bangladesh Liberation War, which lasted from March to December 1971. The campaign conducted by the Pakistan military specifically aimed at Bengali freedom fighters, scholars, students and, with notable intensity, Hindu civilians. Recent and ongoing research show that there were coordinated mass executions, gang rapes used as weapons against women (especially Hindu women) and communal cleansing in towns and rural areas where Hindus lived. Independent scholarly reviews, government compilations of incident reports and survivor testimonies delineate massacres nationwide, enumerating particular incidents with substantial civilian casualties. Scholars and post-war accounts emphasise that although Bengalis were the primary targets, Hindus were subjected to extreme brutality due to their perceived political and cultural alignment with India and the Bengali freedom struggle. The ongoing vulnerability of Hindu communities in Bangladesh from 1972 to 2024 has been perpetuated by a combination of systemic impunity, inadequate legal accountability and politicised justice. Post 1971 period promised justice, but convictions for war crimes were few and far between, allowing many criminals and their networks to become part of local power structures again. Even when accountability mechanisms like the International Crimes Tribunal were used, the idea and practice of

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Enforced Disappearances, Human Rights and BLA’s Independence Call

By N. C. Bipindra Balochistan has yet again entered a dangerous phase of political and humanitarian uncertainty. Recent declaration by the Balochistan Liberation Army (BLA) to form an independent army and seek international recognition as a sovereign nation has brought decades-long freedom struggle against Pakistan’s reported occupation into sharp focus. While BLA’s statement marks a new and more assertive phase in the struggle to take governance into their own hands, it also threatens to worsen an already grim human rights landscape. For years, enforced disappearances, extrajudicial killings, and suppression of dissent have scarred the province. Now, with renewed calls for being recognized as a separate nation, Balochistan risks sliding deeper into vortex of violence and repression that shows little sign of abating. Pakistan’s army and security establishment has come down heavily on Baloch people seeking their basic rights to live peacefully and honourably. Islamabad’s new found friend in US President Donald Trump may be oblivious to this grim situation and only interested in excavating the high value rare earth metals and specialized molecules with high precision application across industries in America. A Province in Perpetual Conflict Balochistan, rich in natural resources but poor in development and representation has long been a theatre of conflict between Pakistani state and various Baloch nationalist groups. The grievances are old and deep, rooted in reported political marginalization, economic exploitation and cultural erasure. BLA’s recent announcement seeking international recognition and establishment of diplomatic missions represents a bold political escalation. It reframes the struggle from one of autonomy within Pakistan to outright independence. Predictably, such a declaration is being treated in Islamabad not as political dissent but as a direct challenge to national sovereignty, setting the stage for intensified military operations. Beneath the political grandstanding lies a darker humanitarian crisis that predates this declaration: persistent phenomenon of unexplained disappearances and human rights abuses that have come to define life in Balochistan. Missing People of Balochistan For families in Balochistan, the phrase “missing persons” has become an everyday horror. Thousands of Baloch men — students, teachers, activists, and ordinary civilians — have disappeared over the years, allegedly picked up by security forces or intelligence agencies. Many are never seen again; others turn up dead, often bearing signs of torture. According to the Human Rights Council of Balochistan (HRCB), 123 enforced disappearances and 26 killings were recorded in just August 2025. Earlier in March that year, the group documented 151 disappearances and 80 killings. Such numbers are staggering for a single province, and they are likely underestimates, given the difficulty of reporting in militarised areas. The Pakistan Commission of Inquiry on Enforced Disappearances (COIED) has received over 10,000 cases nationwide, with a disproportionate number from Balochistan. Yet, rights groups say that official mechanisms lack independence and transparency. Investigations rarely lead to prosecutions, and security agencies operate with near-total impunity. The HRCB and other local NGOs have documented a recurring pattern: night-time raids, arrests without warrants, and bodies discovered days or weeks later in desolate areas. Families often face intimidation when they speak out or join protests demanding the return of their loved ones. Many have spent years camped outside press clubs or government offices, holding faded photographs and placards that ask a simple question: “Where is my son?” Fear and Silence: A Society Under Siege The psychological toll on the province is immense. Entire communities live under a shadow of fear. In cities like Turbat, Kech, Awaran, and Gwadar, once bustling trade hubs, silence has replaced debate. Even student activism is seen as a potential act of rebellion. Students have been frequent victims of disappearances, especially those affiliated with Baloch student organisations. Human rights defender Dr. Mahrang Baloch, who spearheaded a peaceful movement for missing persons, was herself detained in 2024, a move widely condemned internationally as an attempt to crush dissent. Journalists, too, face censorship and threats. Many have been warned against reporting on disappearances or military operations. The result is a near-total blackout on independent information from much of Balochistan, leaving only official narratives and sporadic social media updates from activists who risk their lives to post them. Extrajudicial Killings and the “Kill-and-Dump” Policy One of the most disturbing aspects of the crisis is what local activists describe as the “kill-and-dump” policy. Individuals who disappear are later found dead, their bodies dumped on roadsides or in remote deserts. These victims are often presented by authorities as “terrorists” killed in encounters, but human rights groups say many of these encounters are staged. The state’s security establishment insists its operations target armed insurgents, not civilians. Yet the blurred line between militant and civilian in such operations has made accountability nearly impossible. In some cases, the victims had no political affiliation at all. Families are left with bodies to bury and no answers about why their loved ones were taken or killed. Legal and Institutional Failures Pakistan is a signatory to major international human rights treaties, including the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) and the UN Convention Against Enforced Disappearances. Yet, in practice, these obligations remain largely unfulfilled. The COIED, established to investigate missing persons cases, has been criticised as toothless. It lacks the authority to compel powerful agencies like the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) or the Frontier Corps (FC) to produce detainees or disclose information. Its reports are rarely made public, and few cases have led to convictions. In the absence of credible accountability, enforced disappearances have become normalised as a tool of control. Human rights lawyers describe it as a deliberate policy, a way to silence opposition without legal consequence. BLA’s Declaration and Its Fallout The BLA’s move to declare a separate “army” and seek global recognition adds a dangerous new layer to this human rights tragedy. The Pakistani state, already hypersensitive to any challenge in Balochistan, is likely to respond with harsher counter-insurgency measures, which could lead to more disappearances, arrests, and extrajudicial killings under the banner of fighting terrorism. Civilians will, as always, bear the brunt. In areas where the BLA has

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