In a just society with a properly functioning justice system, law enforcement is tasked with enforcing established laws to safeguard citizens and hold those who violate them accountable, without infringing on their rights. In Bangladesh, however, there is an anomaly. Our law enforcement, in the name of justice and the blanket protection granted under their uniform, continues to violate the rights of those they are supposed to bring to justice—the suspects and the accused. While custodial torture is not new in Bangladesh or even in South Asia, we must sincerely confront this predicament if we are to become a civil and just nation.
On November 21, 2025, two men died in police custody on the same day. Their deaths followed a familiar and chilling script: a person taken in alive, declared "ill" or "unresponsive," and then returned to the family as a dead body. Their families insist they were tortured; the police insist they were not. And as always, the responsibility for investigating these deaths rests with the very institution accused of being responsible for them. It is an irrational arrangement. One that prevents truth from ever surfacing.
These incidents are far from isolated. According to a recent Odhikar report, 40 people have been victims of extrajudicial killings in the 14 months since the interim government took office in August 2024. These citizens died under the state's watch under a government that promised accountability. While the chief adviser condemned such killings and ordered an investigation, such declarations rarely lead anywhere. Which leads to the questions: of the 40 custodial deaths that have occurred under this interim government, how many have gone to trial? How many officers have been suspended, let alone prosecuted? The laws are not what hold us back. It is our refusal to hold the police accountable.
It is not that legal proceedings do not move fast in Bangladesh at all. In fact, we have seen what the government can do when it decides to pursue a case with urgency as in the case of Asia—the eight-year-old child raped and murder earlier this year. Yet, of the 40 citizens whose deaths occurred during the government's own tenure, under its direct responsibility, not a single case has been pursued with similar resolve. The difference: in Asia's case the perpetrator was a civilian while in case of these 40 victims, the suspects are law enforcers. It then leads to an uncomfortable question: is the law not equal for everyone?
The interim government has taken some institutional steps, such as forming a Commission of Inquiry on Enforced Disappearances. But even this historic initiative fell short. Of nearly 2,000 complaints the commission received—where law enforcers were often involved—punitive actions have not been taken yet against even a small number oflaw enforcement officials. Victims' families expected truth and justice served; what they received was hesitation and silence.
Meanwhile, the newly gazetted Police Commission Ordinance, 2025, created with the promise of ushering in accountability, was weakened before it even drew breath. Many who hoped for a bold, independent oversight body now describe it as a toothless tiger. Essential powers were either trimmed or never included at all. It cannot control recruitment, transfers, or promotions. It cannot direct police operations. All it can do is draft recommendations. The decision to approve the recommendations lies entirely with the government. The Police Commission can receive complaints from the public, offer advice, and make recommendations—but the government is under no obligation to act on any of them. Therefore, the very political structure the commission was meant to provide a buffer against would continue to exercise control over it.
Of course, the laws and formal structures of public institutions were never the primary issue with regard to custodial torture. It is the utter disrespect for the laws and human rights of civilians that enables torture and violence in police custody.
Bangladesh has already committed to rejecting torture in all its forms in its constitution, its domestic laws and by signing international conventions. Bangladesh acceded to the UN Convention against Torture (UNCAT) in 1998. Recently, Bangladesh's proposed accession to the Optional Protocol to the UN Convention against Torture was approved, meaning Bangladesh has pledged to prevent torture, to investigate allegations promptly and impartially, and to ensure victims receive redress and rehabilitation. The UN Committee against Torture has repeatedly raised concerns about widespread torture, disappearances, remand abuses, and extrajudicial killings. Even follow-up reports on these issues were never submitted by Bangladesh. The country is signatory to several other international conventions that prohibit torture, arbitrary detention, and inhumane treatment. Our governments proudly cite these commitments abroad, while failing to uphold them at home.
Our constitution repeats these same promises in even clearer language. Article 35(5) outright prohibits torture and cruel, degrading or inhuman treatment. Articles 33, 27, 31 and 32 guarantee rights, such as the rights to counsel, protection from arbitrary arrest, equality before the law, and the right to life and liberty. These are not abstract clauses; they are supposed to prevent custodial violence. They are what a frightened person should be able to rely on when police knock on his door at two in the morning. They are what the families of the two men who died in custody believed they had until the system betrayed them. Even the 2,699 individuals who became victims of extrajudicial killings during the Awami League tenure could have been protected under these clauses if laws and basic rights were respected in Bangladesh.
Our constitutional guarantees, like our international commitments, remain largely aspirational. Together, they should have formed a protective shield around every citizen. Instead, they resemble a list of promises we repeat on global platforms but rarely honour in our police stations, courtrooms, and interrogation rooms.
Even the law designed specifically to prevent custodial torture, the Torture and Custodial Death (Prevention) Act, 2013, exists only on paper. Between 2014 and 2024, only one case filed under this law saw a conviction—only one case in a country where 29 people died in custody just in the last 11 months.
If Bangladesh truly wishes to become a democracy, then torture, death in custody, and state-sanctioned impunity for perpetrators cannot continue. Custodial and extrajudicial deaths cannot remain footnotes. The weakened commissions, the ignored UN recommendations, the hollow constitutional promises—all must change. To move towards justice, we must ensure accountability for torture by law enforcers.
Monorom Polok is a member of the editorial team at The Daily Star.
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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