What’s happening in the cultural space?

There is a paradox at the heart of Bangladesh’s post-July political experience. The uprising of 2024 was driven in considerable measure by demands for freedom, dignity and an end to authoritarianism. Yet nearly two years later, another form of coercion is increasingly occupying the public square: the coercive power of the mob.

This is not simply a question of law and order. It is a question of culture. A society begins to lose its cultural freedom when artists have to calculate whether a song will offend a group, theatre organisers fear cancellation, a film screening is stopped following social-media pressure, folk singers are threatened, and newspapers and cultural institutions become targets for angry crowds.

That is why the deliberations at the September 11 national convention of the Ganatantrik Sangskritik Oikya at the Bangladesh Shilpakala Academy deserve wider attention. Representatives from across the country described a cultural environment in which programmes are being cancelled because of threats, while in other cases local administrations have refused permission. Reports from the convention quoted grassroots cultural activists describing what they see as a steadily narrowing space for cultural expression. In Brahmanbaria, for example, a planned film screening was suspended following opposition and threats circulated on social media.

The larger danger is that Bangladesh may be moving from a culture of political censorship to one of social intimidation—where the state does not necessarily have to prohibit an artist’s work because the threat of the mob does the job.

This is not to suggest that Bangladesh entered the July uprising with a flourishing culture of free expression. The previous government had itself presided over years of pressure on opposition politics, critical media and civil society. The question now is whether the promised expansion of civic space will be secured by democratic institutions—or whether state weakness will allow mobs, political networks and religious pressure groups to fill the vacuum.

The rise of the mob

Mob culture did not begin with the July uprising. Bangladesh has a long history of political violence, communal attacks and street coercion. But the events following the fall of Sheikh Hasina on August 5, 2024 created a new environment in which the political and social power of the mob appeared, for a time, to expand dramatically.

The destruction that followed was particularly revealing. An investigation by Prothom Alo documented 1,494 sculptures, relief sculptures, murals and memorials vandalised, burned or uprooted across 59 districts between August 5 and 14. Liberation War-related monuments, museums, memorials and other historical sites were among those damaged. Most of the incidents occurred during the first three days after the fall of the government, and many of the damaged sites remained unrepaired long afterwards.

The argument that every act of vandalism during this period was politically orchestrated would be too simplistic. Much of the violence involved anger directed at symbols associated with the previous regime. But the distinction between political vengeance and cultural destruction quickly became blurred. Once a crowd assumes the authority to decide which monument, institution or individual deserves punishment, the threshold for further violence is lowered.

Critics of the Yunus interim administration have argued that political actors and activists at times benefited from, encouraged or failed to restrain mobs targeting opponents and institutions associated with the previous order. Such claims should be investigated rather than treated as established fact. What is beyond serious dispute, however, is the persistence of mob violence during the interim period.

According to Ain o Salish Kendra, 197 people were killed in mob violence in 2025, while reporting on ASK’s annual human-rights assessment put the total number killed in mob violence during the tenure of the interim government at at least 293.

These numbers indicate the extent to which mob violence became an alternative form of punishment in a society where confidence in formal institutions remains fragile. The state does not necessarily have to order a mob to use it politically; a perception of impunity can be enough.

When national symbols become contested territory

The assault on cultural symbols has also acquired an ideological dimension.

The national anthem, Amar Sonar Bangla, has become part of a wider debate over Bangladesh’s constitutional and cultural identity. There have been calls from sections of the political and ideological spectrum to change the national anthem and reconsider elements of the country’s constitutional settlement.

In September 2024, Abdullahil Aman Azmi publicly called for changes to the national anthem and Constitution. Jamaat-e-Islami subsequently indicated that his views were personal rather than the party’s official position. That distinction is important: the episode should not be presented as evidence that Jamaat officially adopted a policy of replacing the anthem.

The controversy itself was nevertheless significant. At the 2025 Communist Party of Bangladesh congress, its president criticised attempts to alter the national anthem and annul the 1972 Constitution.

There is nothing undemocratic about debating a national symbol. What is dangerous is when such debates are accompanied by intimidation, threats or the delegitimisation of an entire cultural tradition as alien or illegitimate.

Bangladesh’s Bengali cultural identity was never the property of one political party. Nor should opposition to the Awami League become an excuse to dismantle everything associated with Bengali nationalism, the Liberation War or the country’s secular and syncretic cultural traditions.

The Constitution establishes the first ten lines of Amar Sonar Bangla as the national anthem. The issue, therefore, is not whether the anthem can theoretically be debated. It is whether political change should become a pretext for delegitimising the cultural foundations of the republic.

A democratic Bangladesh must distinguish between opposition to a political party and hostility towards a nation’s cultural memory.

From Baul songs to the newspaper office

Perhaps nowhere is the shrinking space more visible than in the treatment of Baul and folk culture.

Baul traditions represent one of the distinctive strands of Bangladesh’s syncretic cultural heritage. Yet Baul performers have increasingly found themselves vulnerable to accusations of blasphemy or hurting religious sentiments.

The case of Baul singer Abul Sarkar became emblematic. He was arrested on November 20, 2025, in connection with a case alleging that he had hurt religious sentiments during a folk performance.

The case did not remain confined to the courtroom. On November 23, three people were injured in an attack while preparing to form a human chain demanding Sarkar’s release. Witnesses said people operating under the banner of “Tawhidi Janata” carried out the attack.

Sarkar was eventually granted six months’ ad-interim bail by the High Court in April 2026 and subsequently released from jail.

The case illustrates how an artist can become vulnerable to a combination of a legal complaint, social-media mobilisation and street pressure. A performer does not necessarily have to be convicted of a crime to be silenced. A viral video, an accusation and an angry crowd may be enough to make others think twice before performing.

The danger was no longer confined to individual performers. On December 18, 2025, mobs attacked and set fire to the offices of Prothom Alo and The Daily Star, while Chhayanaut was also attacked. The following evening, Udichi’s central office was set on fire. Journalists were trapped inside the burning newspaper offices, and the attacks forced the two newspapers’ presses to stop operations. Reuters described the episode as a major blow to press freedom.

The significance went beyond the physical destruction. Books and buildings can, in time, be replaced or repaired. Archives, instruments, manuscripts, photographs and institutional memories accumulated over generations cannot always be reconstructed.

An investigation by The Daily Star and Dismislab examined 3,064 Facebook posts published between December 13 and 19, 2025. It found that hostile narratives against the two newspapers had been building for days and escalated into direct calls to attack or burn buildings at named locations. The investigation described a clear link between online incitement and real-world violence.

This also raises a broader question about the power of influential social-media personalities, including some operating from outside Bangladesh, to amplify narratives that can move rapidly from the digital sphere into the streets. Where such accounts amplify demonstrably false claims or calls for violence, accountability becomes particularly difficult because their audiences may be inside Bangladesh while the operators themselves are beyond its immediate jurisdiction.

This should not become a blanket indictment of Bangladesh’s diaspora or social-media activists abroad. The relevant question is narrower: when an influential account helps spread threats or incitement that precede physical violence, who bears responsibility?

The answer cannot be to police opinion. It must be to establish clear standards distinguishing legitimate political expression from deliberate incitement to violence, and to enforce those standards consistently.

Impact on Minorities

A shrinking cultural space inevitably affects minorities and vulnerable communities first.

Following the fall of the previous government, attacks on Hindu homes, businesses and religious sites were reported across the country. The motives varied from case to case—political retaliation, criminality, communal hatred and local disputes could overlap. But whatever the motive, the state has a duty to protect citizens regardless of their political affiliation or religion.

The Bangladesh Hindu Buddhist Christian Unity Council reported 258 incidents affecting minorities during the first half of 2025, including 59 attacks on places of worship and 27 murders. These figures were compiled by an advocacy organisation and should be treated as such; they nevertheless provide an important indication of the insecurity felt by minority communities.

The more clearly documented concern is institutional failure: delayed responses, inadequate investigations and a lack of prosecutions in many cases of violence against religious and cultural sites.

A similar concern arises from attacks on shrines.

A study by Maqam: Center for Sufi Heritage, titled Attacks on Shrines Across the Country in 2024–25, documented 97 attacks on shrines between August 5, 2024 and December 31, 2025, resulting in three deaths and 468 injuries. Only 11 cases had been filed, according to the study, which reported that investigations in 10 of those cases had made no progress. The study attributed 61 percent of the attacks primarily to religious intolerance and reported that at least 44 targeted shrines remained abandoned, with regular Urs ceremonies halted.

These figures should not be treated as official government statistics. The Maqam report drew on media reports, social-media material, field information and other sources. Its findings nonetheless warrant investigation, particularly where allegations of organised intimidation or attacks on religious sites remain unresolved.

The state must investigate each case and establish the facts. If a reported attack is disputed, the government should publish the findings of its investigation. If an attack occurred, perpetrators should be prosecuted. If an allegation is false, that too should be established through evidence.

The alternative is an information vacuum in which competing political and communal narratives become more powerful than facts.

Freedom of expression is the real casualty

Ultimately, the issue is bigger than culture. It is about whether Bangladesh remains a society in which people can disagree without fear.

International assessments of press and civic freedoms remain troubling. Reporters Without Borders ranks Bangladesh 152nd out of 180 countries in its 2026 World Press Freedom Index, with a score of 33.05. Freedom House’s Freedom in the World 2026 gives Bangladesh a “Partly Free” rating of 44 out of 100.

These indices measure different things—RSF focuses specifically on press freedom, while Freedom House assesses broader political rights and civil liberties—and neither should be treated as the final word on Bangladesh. But they point to a broader problem: the institutional protections that make freedom of expression meaningful remain fragile.

Bangladesh must also resist the temptation to view every cultural dispute through the lens of partisan politics. A society cannot build democratic institutions if every newspaper is classified as pro- or anti-government, every artist as belonging to one political camp, and every minority grievance as a weapon of an opposing party.

Culture is supposed to be larger than politics.

That is why the September 11 convention matters. Its importance lies not in the political affiliation of the organisers or speakers, but in the warning coming from people working at the grassroots of Bangladesh’s cultural life: that the space in which they work, perform, write and organise is becoming more difficult to defend.

The response should not be another campaign of ideological counter-mobilisation. It should be the strengthening of institutions.

The police must protect threatened artists and cultural institutions before violence occurs, not merely investigate after buildings have burned. Local administrations should not become instruments through which cultural events are quietly prevented without transparent reasons. Threats circulated online should be investigated before they turn into physical attacks. When violence does occur, investigations should be prompt, transparent and capable of surviving political scrutiny.

The state must also resist the temptation to manage information rather than confront the underlying problem. The more clearly documented concern is not necessarily a systematic policy of suppressing information, but a pattern of delayed responses, inadequate investigations and weak accountability. Those failures are serious enough without exaggerating them.

Reclaiming the public space

The September 11 convention’s central message was simple: Bangladesh must reclaim its public space from political, religious and digital intimidation. No group should have a veto over culture simply because it can mobilise a crowd.

Artists must be free to perform, journalists to publish, filmmakers to screen, folk singers to sing and minorities to worship without fear. Freedom of expression, however, does not mean freedom from accountability; allegations of wrongdoing must be addressed through evidence, investigation and due process—not threats or collective punishment.

A culture survives not because everyone agrees, but because disagreement remains possible. Bangladesh has experienced the dangers of political and cultural space dominated by the state; it should not now surrender that space to the mob.

The promise of July was a society in which citizens would be less afraid to speak. That promise will ultimately be measured by whether a Baul can sing, a journalist can publish, a filmmaker can screen a film, a minority can worship and cultural institutions can preserve the nation’s memory without seeking permission from a crowd.

That is the minimum cultural space a democratic Bangladesh owes its citizens.