Mír Abdul Alim

There was a time when the Raju Sculpture at Dhaka University stood merely as a symbol of student protests. But July–August 2024 rewrote that history in a new way. This wasn’t just a “quota reform movement”—it was an uprising against a longstanding disillusionment and curse between the state and its citizens. In Dhaka, Rangpur, Chattogram, Kushtia—students took to the streets. With backpacks on their shoulders, banners in their hands, and fire in their eyes, they had one demand: justice. The state's response? Bullets and blood. And those drops of blood didn’t wash away in the monsoon. History didn’t pause—it raced forward, exposing the brutal face hidden behind the veil of power.

In May 2024, a High Court verdict reinstated the quota system in public service recruitment. Though this was seen as favorable for freedom fighters’ descendants, most students viewed it as a form of "preferential politics"—where merit gave way to inherited privilege. Before marching to the streets, there was no violence. Students believed in the power of the pen. But when repeated success in exams meant nothing due to the quota system, the street became the only recourse. From TSC at Dhaka University, the Shaheed Minar in Rajshahi, to the humble canteen at Chattogram University—student voices roared in unison: “Our Constitution promises equal rights!” This wasn’t merely about jobs—it was a revolt against deep-rooted irregularities and corruption in the recruitment system. Thus began a new chapter in history.
Abu Saeed’s Death: Bangladesh’s Own ‘Tank Man’

On July 16, in Rangpur, a student named Abu Saeed was killed by police gunfire. He wasn’t being violent—he held a small placard reading: “We want jobs, not death.” Suddenly, tear gas, bullets, and chaos erupted. Video footage shows Abu Saeed stepping in front of a police pickup just before being shot. The moment evoked memories of China’s 1989 Tiananmen Square ‘Tank Man.’ Many began calling him Bangladesh’s own ‘Tank Man.’ His photo went viral overnight. The next morning, black flags, silent processions, and tributes filled campuses nationwide. Students chanted Binoy Majumdar’s words: “We came to be shot…” That moment changed the momentum. The state began to fear this new roar. Abu Saeed’s death became the trigger for a mass upheaval.
July Massacre: When Students Became State Enemies

When the movement reached Dhaka, it was no longer just student-led—civil society and expatriates joined. By mid-July, police opened fire on students in Chattogram, Khulna, and Barishal. As days passed, state orders became clear: “Use lethal force if needed.” One after another, students like Rakib, Jubayer, Mausumi, and Nazim were martyred—not affiliated with any political party, but simply seekers of justice. Students were dragged out of dorms and beaten. Hostels were locked. Facebook posts featuring red “X” marks on student photos were used for mass arrests. The regime attempted to criminalize and terrorize an entire generation. That was its gravest mistake. History tells us: when students bleed, their blood doesn’t sink—it soaks into the collective consciousness of a nation.
Internet Silence: Information Blockade and Digital Exile

From July 18–28 and again on August 4–5, the government imposed a total internet and mobile network shutdown—a move unprecedented in any modern democratic state. At a time when information was most critical, the government curtailed it, stripping the people of their right to communicate. This blackout wasn’t just technological—it was psychological punishment. Many disappeared, were arrested or injured, but due to the media blackout, these atrocities didn’t reach international headlines. Newspapers failed to print, TV channels echoed government press releases, and news portals were shut down one after another. This information blockade became a silent mechanism of mass repression—robbing the people of their voice.
August 4: The Bloodiest Day in Modern History

August 4, 2025, became the deadliest day in Bangladesh’s history of civil unrest. Protests erupted nationwide, with over a hundred thousand taking to the streets. In Dhaka alone, nearly 91 people were killed, including police officers. People blocked roads, besieged government buildings, and students marched en masse. By 6 PM, a curfew and “shoot-at-sight” orders were imposed—reminiscent of the mass killings under Pakistan's rule. Military helicopters and armored vehicles took to the streets, as if war had been declared against the people. International headlines dubbed Bangladesh: “The Nation That Declared War on Its Youth.”
International Tribunal and Arrest Warrants

In October 2024, a newly formed International Tribunal (under the UN-HRW-Amnesty coalition) issued arrest warrants against Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina and 45 top officials for crimes against humanity, genocide, child murder, and constitutional violations. Social media videos, police radio tapes, and victim testimonies were used as evidence. It was alleged that more than 1,200 people had been extrajudicially killed. This legal action sent a message of accountability and set a precedent against state-sponsored violence. Sheikh Hasina went into hiding at an Indian immigration facility, which later created diplomatic tensions, as India protected her from extradition.
Mass Arrests and Legal Suppression

During and after the uprising, nearly 11,700 people were arrested—including schoolchildren, teachers, writers, doctors, and factory workers. Those detained ranged from an 87-year-old woman to a 13-year-old boy. The state filed cases against 92,486 individuals, mostly citing “30–40 unknown persons” to facilitate mass detentions. Many detainees were held without formal charges, denied legal counsel, and kept incommunicado. Protests erupted among lawyers, and Supreme Court justices had to invoke the term “mass trial.” Rights groups described it as a strategic silencing of dissent, severely undermining the rule of law in Bangladesh.
A New Political Blueprint: From Protest to Party

At the heart of the movement were school and university students. Through their sacrifices, a new wave of political consciousness emerged. Discussions began on Facebook and Telegram groups about forming a unified party. Thus was born the National Citizen Party (NCP)—with the motto: “We stand for people, not power.” It included representation from Hindus, Muslims, indigenous groups, women, and persons with disabilities. It pledged to uphold democracy, promote proportional representation in elections, and safeguard human rights. Based on a CSP (Citizen-Society Partnership) model, the party ran on regional coordination instead of central leadership. It was this body that proposed a roadmap for a caretaker government—which the regime was forced to accept. The slogan “Students don’t form parties, they shape direction” became the anthem of the revolution.
Global Response and Diplomatic Fallout

The strongest international reaction came when HRW, Amnesty International, and OHCHR jointly published a report accusing the Bangladesh government of violating global human rights treaties, especially the ICCPR. The European Union imposed visa restrictions and trade sanctions, while the U.S. sanctioned 11 officials under the Global Magnitsky Act. The UN deployed a special fact-finding mission. These actions played a key role in the fall of the Hasina government. There were also calls to reform Bangladesh’s constitution, leading the interim government to form a constitutional review commission.
Was It a Successful Revolution?

While no immediate economic reforms were achieved, the movement fundamentally reshaped the political landscape. The end of long-standing one-party rule, the reinstatement of neutrality in the military and civil service, and public participation in governance marked this as a successful revolution. Hasina’s exile, information leaks, people-led justice initiatives, and the formation of a parallel political structure all pointed toward a democratic resurgence. This movement proved that real change demands blood—but that price becomes worthwhile when leadership and vision are placed in people’s hands. The symbolic name “ Movement” now reads like the manifesto of the future.

This wasn’t just about quotas—it was a national awakening. The July–August uprising shook the ‘fortress’ with student blood. No longer fragmented, but united in purpose. From a dispute over quotas, a new Bangladesh emerged. Though Hasina’s exit closed a chapter, the story of Bangladesh’s democracy is still unfolding. The youth who lost their eyes now seek vision for society. They demand clarity in governance after an era of darkness. History may record that this revolution didn’t change the present—but it forever redefined the future.

The writer is a journalist, social tesearcher, and Secretary-General of the Columnist Forum of Bangladesh