Barely a week into the tenure of the newly elected government, Bangladesh is already witnessing a troubling trend of heavy-handed enforcement and populist signalling in the name of drug raids.
On Sunday night (February 22), police conducted a drive at the park adjacent to Dhanmondi’s road 32, detaining and questioning teenagers who simply happened to be at a public space.
For many, the message was unsettling. Being young and outdoors at night could itself invite suspicion.
Presumably, this comes on the government’s commitment to cleanse the streets of drug users and peddlers. But the heavy-handedness also runs the risk of harassing passers-by and casual strollers who also want street corners and alleys to become safe again.
Notably, this crackdown came just days after the education minister said teenagers roaming at night would be interrogated and that constitutional concerns could be dealt with later.
Such remarks effectively allow the state to decide what counts as “unnecessary” movement — a vague and potentially dangerous standard in any democracy.
Even more troubling is the implication that rights can be curtailed first and debated afterwards, reversing the basic premise of constitutional governance.
If tough rhetoric about policing teenagers is meant to win quick applause from a frustrated public, it risks sliding from reformist firmness into reckless populism.
Populism triggers visible action rather than effective policy, encouraging headline-grabbing crackdowns instead of the slow, difficult work of structural reform.
There are already signs of how quickly such an approach can escalate.
On Monday night (23 February), violence erupted during a police anti-drug drive at Dhaka’s Suhrawardy Udyan.
Several journalists covering the operation were reportedly attacked, while three Dhaka University students were detained and later handed over to the university’s proctorial team. Among them, one was even beaten after arguing with Ramna Division Deputy Commissioner Masud Alam.
Now, what we must take into consideration is the fact that these parks as public spaces remain vitally important for city residents.
In a densely populated metropolis like Dhaka, they are among the few accessible places where people can walk, exercise, socialise, or simply spend time outdoors. For many families, students, and workers, such spaces are essential to physical and mental well-being.
Hence, the growing presence of drug addicts and petty criminals in these parks is a genuine concern.
In that sense, law-enforcement drives to keep parks safe are understandable and, indeed, necessary.
What is not acceptable, however, is treating everyone present as a suspect by default, and then resorting to harassment or excessive force in the name of protection.
Law enforcers must display restraint and professionalism, intervening firmly where wrongdoing is evident but also respecting the rights of law abiding citizens.
If questioning authority or documenting police action can trigger violence, then enforcement has shifted from maintaining order to displaying power.
Meanwhile, in Chandpur too, police on Sunday evening reportedly detained 21 individuals — including 12 teenagers aged 14–17 — after “the education minister’s instructions to question juveniles found outside at night”, before releasing them to their parents upon signed bonds.
Also, on Friday night (20 February), a video from Patikabari Bazar in Kushtia showed police warning tea stall owners to stop carrom games and television during Ramadan.
The officer involved, accompanied by Kushtia-3 MP Mufti Amir Hamza, publicly scolded a shopkeeper and demanded compliance.
Later, senior police officials said there was no official order to shut down such activities.
Taken together, these incidents reveal a pattern. Highly visible action against ordinary people while deeper problems remain largely unaddressed.
It is far easier to question teenagers in a park, intimidate small shopkeepers, or use force against students and journalists than to dismantle organised crime networks, trace drug supply chains, or reform failing institutions.
Moral policing may create an illusion of control, but it does little to reduce crime. Instead, it breeds fear and resentment, weakening the trust that effective policing depends on.
When enforcement appears arbitrary, people begin to feel unsafe even while engaging in lawful activities — walking at night, reporting news, or running a business.
There is also a deeper political irony.
The BNP spent years accusing the previous government of human rights abuses and authoritarian tactics. Many therefore expected stronger protection for civil liberties once it assumed power.
Instead, what seems to be emerging is a familiar “my turn” syndrome, where the same coercive machinery is simply operated by new hands.
Some law-enforcement officers who previously aligned themselves with those in power may now be eager to demonstrate loyalty to new political leaders.
Such behaviour is not uncommon in politicised systems that encourage visible toughness toward civilians as a way to signal obedience upward.
But policing designed to please politicians rather than protect citizens rarely produces stability.
Heavy-handed tactics may generate short-term fear, but they also deepen public anger, erode institutional credibility, and increase the likelihood of future unrest.
A government cannot restore order by making ordinary people feel like suspects in their own country.
Real law and order depends on professionalism, accountability, and respect for rights; not on spectacle or intimidation.
Populist crackdowns may deliver quick applause, but they weaken the very institutions needed for long-term stability.
The first week of the new government has already produced worrying signals. Bangladesh has watched this pattern play out before, and the ending is rarely reassuring.
