In a fiery exchange on journalist Masood Kamal’s popular YouTube channel “Onno Moncho,” veteran Bangladeshi media figure Anis Alamgir unleashed a scathing critique of the Muhammad Yunus-led interim government’s assault on press freedom, judicial independence, and democratic norms.
Broadcasting on Friday amid swirling rumours of fresh appeals against bail for detained journalists, Alamgir accused the regime of orchestrating a “complete injustice” through fabricated charges and relentless harassment, while warning that Jamaat-e-Islami’s increasingly belligerent rhetoric signals a deeper power vacuum threatening the nation’s fragile stability.
The interview comes at a precarious juncture for Bangladesh. With parliamentary elections tentatively slated for February 2026, the Yunus administration—installed after the dramatic ouster of Sheikh Hasina’s Awami League government in August 2024—faces mounting scrutiny over its handling of dissent.
Alamgir, a regular on Kamal’s platform known for its unfiltered dives into political undercurrents, didn’t hold back. “This is a violation of humanity,” he declared, pointing to the cases of prominent journalists Manjur Alam Panna and Latif Siddique Baly, who were granted bail by the High Court only to face immediate government appeals.
Kamal, setting the tone early, invited viewers to “another platform” for candid discourse, noting that politics, elections, and party manoeuvres would dominate headlines “until February.” But he quickly pivoted to the “very sad incident” unfolding: a wave of arrests targeting vocal critics under the guise of anti-terrorism laws.
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“We are repeatedly telling this government to criticise us, that journalism freedom is greater than ever before,” Kamal remarked, echoing the regime’s own rhetoric—a line he said previous information ministers parroted verbatim. Yet, he contrasted this with the reality: “Among them, we see that some of our very well-known people are being granted bail… There are doubts about the case in which they are being accused.”
Alamgir’s response was unequivocal. “I think that it is completely unfair and a kind of injustice,” he said, slamming the use of “terrorism and habijabi [subversive] charges” without substantiation. “They have not been able to show any reason… They have not been able to prove anything.” He likened the process to a farce: lower courts, he alleged, reject bail at the government’s behest, only for the High Court to step in amid public optimism.
But even that, Alamgir warned, is eroding. In Panna’s cases, appeals were filed “immediately after” their release, turning judicial victories into fresh battles. “If the High Court also takes the same role,” he said, “and they go to the chamber judge and apply…that means they must be understood as notorious terrorists of Bangladesh.”
This pattern, Alamgir argued, exposes a selective application of justice. “Since August 5, not a single identified terrorist militant in the country is in jail… They have all been released,” he noted, referencing the post-Hasina power vacuum that saw hundreds of extremists walk free. In stark contrast, journalists and politicians face “illegal, false” cases with no specific evidence. “You have arrested someone; let him prove it,” Alamgir urged, decrying the regime’s refusal to let trials proceed without interference.
Their alleged “crime”? Attending a program where they “could not even give a speech,” he said, emphasising they were “invited guests” or mere spectators, not organisers.
Kamal pressed further, highlighting the irony: The very event drawing fire was meant to commemorate November 7—a date etched in Bangladesh’s psyche as the 1975 military coup that toppled Hasina’s father, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. “They were present at the program but could not give a speech,” Kamal observed, questioning why attendees, not hosts, bear the brunt.
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Alamgir concurred, sharing a personal anecdote: “I was invited to an event. I went, and I became a criminal.” He revealed that “you and many others were invited,” but personal reasons kept him away. “I don’t like going to any event… I have a policy decision. I don’t believe in activism.” This confession underscored a broader chill: even passive participation now invites peril.
Alamgir didn’t mince words on the implications. “This is another proof of the violation of humanity,” he stated, linking it directly to the government’s hollow claims of bolstering “freedom of speech.” Kamal nodded, adding that the arrests invite “multiple international organisations” to issue statements and criticisms. “If I were to ask on behalf of the government, what is the government’s number one goal through this arrest?” Kamal queried. “Number two, is its image being damaged internationally? Isn’t the government also realising this?”
Alamgir’s retort was blunt: “I don’t think I get it.” He accused the regime of willful blindness, praising it for not “directly attacking any newspaper” but condemning its failure to curb “parasites” doing the dirty work. “The government deserves praise here. But it also deserves condemnation that the government is not even preventing it.”
This passive complicity, he argued, extends to broader repression: “Here they are directly stifling the voices of journalists, interfering with the freedom of expression, and banning the gatherings of freedom fighters.” The November 7 event, he noted, exemplifies this—banned not explicitly, but through veiled threats that deter participation. “If they had done that, they would have said it directly, and then people would not have gone. People are obliged to obey the law.”
The conversation veered into existential territory. Kamal quipped that critics might call them “the queen of the mug or the price of the mob,” but Alamgir saw deeper rot: a regime punishing speech on one side while ignoring mob violence on the other. “People who speak for them now say that they are speaking for them. Why is this also a fault? God knows,” he lamented. This, he said, is why “people don’t have to be victims of this kind of harassment.” If commemorating Bangabandhu or freedom fighters is taboo, “make a law” outright, he suggested—transparency over ambush.
Shifting Tides: Jamaat-e-Islami’s Belligerent Turn
As the dialogue shifted to politics, Kamal noted a palpable shift in Jamaat-e-Islami’s demeanour. “You have noticed that for some time now, there has been a change in the body language of Jamaat-e-Islami’s politics,” he observed. Citing recent rhetoric, Kamal referenced Jamaat Nayeb-e-Ameer Abdullah Mohammad Taher’s claim of possessing “phone records” of opponents—a boast met with widespread derision for its invasiveness. “Many people said about this, ‘How do you have phone records?’ It is wrong to have other people’s phone records.”
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Kamal then spotlighted escalating threats: Taher’s vow of “no hunky-dory” in fulfilling five-point demands, coupled with warnings of “fingers broken” if “ghee doesn’t come out.” General Secretary Mia Golam Parwar echoed this, declaring Dhaka’s “face will change” post-November 11 if demands go unmet.
“These are the things that make the talk of Jamaat-e-Islam seem a little unbearable, a little reckless, and a little arrogant,” Kamal said. “Why do they assume that they are definitely coming to power, or is there some other reason?”
Alamgir pinned the transformation on the Awami League’s absence. “The biggest thing is the absence of the Awami League in Bangladesh,” he replied. “If the Awami League were [there], there would have been a balance of power here, whether the Awami League was in the government or in the opposition.” Without it, “there is no balance of power… They are fighting among themselves.”
This infighting, he argued, is performative: “If they say Awami League will come today, they will unite again.” Jamaat and BNP, despite shared “mentality,” squabble because “people want a fair and beautiful election… An inclusive one.” Yet, they’re engineering a “one-party” vote, “one-minded,” Alamgir charged.
The deception runs deep, Alamgir claimed. BNP feels “betrayed” by reform commissions: Signed deals morph into “final reports” that contradict drafts. “The distrust that has been created… Instead of making arrangements to remove the distrust, the government pushed it on the political parties.” This fuels chaos: “They are now fighting, making speeches against each other.”
Jamaat leads the charge, “attacking more and… taking to the streets,” while BNP remains “restrained.” Mirza Fakhrul Islam Alamgir’s recent November 7 remarks—”a conspiracy is going on to destroy democracy again”—exemplify this restraint.
Alamgir called for rationality: “They have to show a logical reason.” Their demands—proportional representation (PR) in upper and lower houses—evolve daily, manufacturing crises. “They are trying to create one issue or another every day… If ghee is not raised on their fingers, they will bend their fingers.” This, he said, delays polls: “The only meaning is that they are postponing the elections. Destroying the environment for the elections.”
Referendum Gambit: Legitimising Chaos?
Kamal zeroed in on the referendum push—a Yunus-proposed vote on constitutional reforms before elections. “Why should this referendum be held before the election?” he asked. “The nation is not convinced… Where is the time before the parliamentary election?” The cost—”crores of taka”—seems wasteful when “parliamentary election… gives greater legitimacy.”
Alamgir dissected the ploy: Jamaat’s retort—that one day’s “extortion money” funds it—exposes hypocrisy. “If it is possible to hold a referendum with one day’s extortion, my question is, will there not be extortion on the day of the referendum?” He mocked: “You yourself get the license for extortion… You give the license for extortion to one group.” Multi-party shakedowns cripple business; a single-party monopoly might stabilise, but “is that what we want?” People want to give extortion to one group.”
The true aim? “A constitutional legitimacy… If it wins, it will say that the people have given legitimacy to all the activities that this government has done… Let this government complete its term… For a few more years.” Alamgir drew historical parallels: Ziaur Rahman and Ershad’s referendums “took legitimacy” during military rule; Khaleda Zia’s didn’t need one. “Using the example of these two referendums, they will say that we have now gained legitimacy… Let this government continue.”
This buys time for vendettas: “More accusations against BNP bring BNP down further… Create instability.” Threats to paralyse Dhaka on November 11 (Jamaat) and 13 (Awami League sympathisers) exemplify this. “Why will Dhaka suffer so much?” Alamgir pleaded. “People wanted a regime change… Why are you obstructing it?” The fallout: a stagnant economy, halted investments, and a “miserable lifestyle.” “People are very upset… Their source of income has decreased.”
Alamgir advocated early polls: “If this election is held in January, it would be better.” Let parties “quarrel” over power; “people vote… Let the people like it.” But the regime’s “patches”—shifting deadlines, new demands—breed doubt. “There was a firmness… We will hold elections in February,” but handing reins to parties unleashed “loosening.” Nine months of talks derailed by “new issues.” Without order, elections become “sitting at home and sharing.”
Even Yunus faces betrayal: “They are telling him to stay… Put a stone on your head, we will eat.” The referendum? A “safe exit” for him, per Alamgir, via July Charter endorsement. “Dr. Yunus will then happily say… We have received legitimacy.” But it risks “majesty” for all: “Enjoy it more the way they are enjoying it.”
A Call for Clarity Amid Shadows
Kamal wrapped with gratitude: “Thank you very much, Mr. Anis Alamgir. You talked a lot today… We learned a lot in very small pieces.” Alamgir’s analysis, laced with sarcasm and urgency, resonates as Bangladesh teeters. With Yunus’s referendum looming and Jamaat’s threats amplifying, the interim era—meant for transition—risks entrenching division. Alamgir’s verdict: Without inclusion, no election holds meaning. “That’s all for now. Allah preserves,” Kamal signed off, leaving viewers to ponder a nation at the brink.
As Dhaka braces for November 11, Alamgir’s words echo: A regime born of chaos cannot birth stability without accountability. Bangladesh’s democracy hangs in the balance—will it fracture under mob rule, or rise through genuine reform?
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