H. M. Nazmul Alam

Freedom of speech, that gilded beacon of democracy, is the grand subterfuge of modern governance. In developing nations, this cherished ideal often exists as a spectral mirage—visible, exciting, and yet tragically intangible. Beneath the surface, the promises of liberty lie tangled in a web of authoritarian decrees, populist extremism, and digital witch hunts. Let's explore the state of free expression in a world that claims to cherish it, but where the tongue often becomes a noose.

Take Bangladesh, where the word "freedom" has been tucked into political slogans, yet screams for justice echo in silenced voids. The Sheikh Hasina government came to power promising democracy and welfare, but their legacy resembles a dystopian sequel to 1984. The airwaves and printing presses served as government mouthpieces, and dissent was met with draconian laws like the notorious Digital Security Act.

This law, hailed as a shield against "fake news," is, in reality, a sword drawn against journalists and critics. Cartoonist Ahmed Kabir Kishore’s satirical illustrations on the pandemic landed him in jail, beaten and tortured—because humor, it seems, is a crime against the "Father of the Nation." Meanwhile, 15-year-olds were detained for daring to critique the government on Facebook. George Orwell would have gasped, “Doublethink is alive and well in Dhaka.”

But it isn't just Bangladesh. Across the border in India, the world's largest democracy often behaves as if it’s allergic to criticism. Journalists investigating sensitive topics—be it corruption or communal violence—find themselves branded as "anti-nationals" or worse, tied up in years of frivolous lawsuits. Meanwhile, troll armies, backed by political patrons, ensure dissenters face a deluge of online abuse.

Globally, freedom of speech is not merely under attack—it’s in intensive care. Consider Hungary, where the government has all but monopolized the media. Prime Minister Viktor Orbán’s regime ensures that independent journalists have as much breathing room as a goldfish in a sealed jar. Across the Atlantic, even bastions of democracy like the United States face their own crises. Strategic lawsuits against public participation (SLAPPs) have turned newsrooms into courtrooms, where the price of truth is often bankruptcy.

Even the United Kingdom, with its long history of free speech, has seen legislators targeting lawyers for defending asylum seekers, a curious twist for a nation that prides itself on its rule of law. And let’s not forget China and Iran, where voicing dissent is akin to playing Russian roulette—except all chambers are loaded.

As Shakespeare aptly wrote in Hamlet, “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.” Substitute "Denmark" with any nation flirting with autocracy, and the stench of repression remains unmistakable. Poets and writers who dare to wield their pens as swords are muzzled by governments who fear the power of verse. In the land of Tagore, the irony is particularly bitter. What would the bard of Bengal say if he saw his homeland’s digital dungeon, where every keystroke is monitored, every word a potential crime?

But let us not despair, for humor survives even in repression. Consider this: dictators worldwide seem to share an unspoken belief in the cosmic power of internet censorship. Ban a hashtag, and the people will forget the problem. Arrest a journalist, and the truth will vanish. It’s a strategy as effective as banning umbrellas to stop the rain.

“There is freedom of speech, but I cannot guarantee freedom after speech.”― Idi Amin’s infamous quote about freedom after speech sums up the absurdity perfectly. The global autocrat playbook appears to be plagiarized from The Emperor's New Clothes. Leaders stand naked, but woe betide the citizen who points it out. They risk finding themselves clothed in prison uniforms instead.

Polarization is the fuel that powers these suppressive regimes. By dividing society into camps of “us” versus “them,” leaders turn neighbors into spies and citizens into enforcers of silence. In Bangladesh, the ruling party’s supporters don’t just stop at verbal threats—they storm news offices, destroy property, and physically assault journalists. In El Salvador, President Nayib Bukele’s government uses the state of emergency to jail dissenters under the guise of combating gang violence.

Even when transitions toward democracy occur, the road is perilous. Gambia’s brief respite after the fall of a dictatorship is now threatened by restrictive cybercrime laws. Meanwhile, Poland under Donald Tusk has promised reforms, but the ghosts of authoritarianism linger like an unwelcome house guest.

The plight of free speech in developing nations brings to mind Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” For those in power, it is indeed the best—an era of unchecked authority and pliable media. For journalists, activists, and citizens, it is the worst—an epoch of fear, censorship, and exile.

In this theater of suppression, everyone plays their part. Governments pen laws so vague they could criminalize a sneeze. The media dances between propaganda and survival. And the people? They swing between courage and compliance, their voices muffled but their spirits undaunted.

Yet, even in this grim narrative, glimmers of hope persist. Brazil, under President Lula da Silva, has seen significant improvements in press freedom after his victory over Jair Bolsonaro. Gambia’s struggles continue, but its people remain resilient. The future of free speech depends on the courage of those who dare to speak and the solidarity of those who listen. As the world teeters on the precipice of autocracy, we are reminded of Victor Hugo’s words: “No army can withstand the power of an idea whose time has come.”

Freedom of speech is not merely a right; it is a responsibility—a shared commitment to truth, justice, and humanity. Without it, democracy is but a hollow shell, a performance without substance. “Four hostile newspapers are more to be feared than a thousand bayonets.”― as Napoleon feared the power of hostile newspapers, so must every autocrat. For in the end, words have a way of breaking through walls and chains, igniting revolutions and toppling tyrants.

Let the Idi Amins of the world issue their threats, and let their laws tighten the noose. History has shown time and again: when the silence becomes unbearable, the whispers turn to roars. And no regime, however powerful, can withstand the storm of a people united in their demand for freedom.

The writer is an Academic, Journalist, and Political Analyst.