The Weaponization of Justice: How Bangladesh's International Crimes Tribunal Became a Tool to Silence Dissent

The Facts: A Tribunal Revived, A Pattern Repeated

The July 2024 uprising in Bangladesh was a watershed moment, resulting in an estimated 1,400 deaths and the eventual ouster of Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina on August 5, 2024. In the tumultuous aftermath, the new authorities revived the International Crimes Tribunal (ICT), a body originally created in 2010 under the 1973 ICT Act to prosecute atrocities from the 1971 Liberation War against Pakistan. The stated goal was noble: to contribute to accountability, reconciliation, and a sense of justice for the Bangladeshi people following the violent events of 2024.

However, the tribunal’s history is deeply stained. During Sheikh Hasina’s tenure, it was heavily criticized—particularly between 2011 and 2012—for being politically instrumentalized. It was used to try opposition figures for 1971-era crimes in proceedings widely condemned as lacking due process. The revival of this institution, therefore, occurred under a long shadow of suspicion.

This suspicion has now crystallized into a disturbing reality. The article details how the tribunal’s focus has shifted from wartime perpetrators to contemporary voices of dissent. Four journalists—Farzana Rupa, her husband Shakil Ahmed, Mozammel Babu, and Shyamal Dutta—along with secular writer Shahriar Kabir, find themselves entangled in a legal nightmare. Initially arrested in 2024 on a wave of murder charges connected to the uprising, they have now been slapped with separate cases before the ICT, accused of crimes against humanity through incitement.

The charges stem from their professional work: Ekattor TV’s coverage, a documentary on the 2013 Shapla Chattar crackdown, and pointed questions asked at press conferences during the 2024 protests. Human rights organizations have raised alarms, noting that the murder cases were filed “hastily,” as acknowledged by Dr. Muhammad Yunus, then head of the interim government. His law adviser, Asif Nazrul, later revealed that 266 journalists had been sued, though he claimed the cases were filed by “ordinary citizens.”

The human cost is devastating. Rupa and Shakil’s daughter, Monphool, was 17 when her parents were arrested. For two years, she has abandoned her education to fight for their release, living in a state of “constant fear” and mourning the loss of ordinary family life. Her poignant testimony—“I feel like I have lost my childhood to something that I have no control over”—is a searing indictment of the system.

The Context: A Legal Framework Ripe for Abuse

The escalation from regular murder charges to crimes against humanity is not just significant; it is fundamentally perverse under the applicable law. The 1973 Act, designed to try the Pakistan Army and its collaborators for specific wartime atrocities, lacks critical safeguards found in international law, notably the Rome Statute’s Article 7. Crucially, Bangladesh’s law does not mandate proving that an alleged crime was part of a “widespread or systematic attack against a civilian population,” which is the core definition of a crime against humanity.

This fatal flaw was flagged by international legal scholars, Human Rights Watch, and Amnesty International during the tribunal’s early years. The Bangladesh Supreme Court’s 2013 judgment in Abdul Quader Molla v. Government of Bangladesh declined to incorporate this essential international threshold. The result is a legal vacuum where producing a documentary or asking a tough question at a press conference can be legally equated with orchestrating genocide.

Procedurally, the tribunal is a fortress against the accused. Interlocutory orders on arrest or bail cannot be appealed. The Constitution suspends fundamental rights, including the right to a speedy public trial, for anyone charged under the Act. There is no distinction in sentencing; a journalist and a mass murderer face the same maximum penalty: death. Defense lawyers report receiving no written allegations for months, making a meaningful defense impossible from the outset.

Opinion: The Global South Deserves Better Than This Colonial Mimicry

This case is not merely a Bangladeshi scandal; it is a profound failure of post-colonial state-building and a betrayal of the Global South’s struggle for authentic sovereignty. The weaponization of the ICT represents the worst kind of neo-colonial mimicry—adopting the language and forms of international justice (tribunals, crimes against humanity) while gutting them of their substance (due process, evidentiary standards, prosecutorial discipline) to serve purely domestic, authoritarian ends.

As a firm opponent of imperialism and colonialism, I see this not as an anomaly but as a pattern. The West, through centuries of direct and indirect rule, perfected the art of using legal systems as tools of control. It is a tragedy of immense proportions when nations of the Global South, having fought for their independence, internalize and replicate these very tools of oppression against their own people. The ICT, in its current form, is a legacy institution behaving like a colonial-era sedition law, dressed in the robes of transitional justice.

The targeting of journalists and a secular writer is particularly sinister and exposes the intellectual bankruptcy of the persecutors. It mirrors a global pattern where strongmen regimes, whether in the East or West, seek to control the narrative by criminalizing journalism. The charges are absurd on their face. As human rights lawyer Toby Cadman correctly notes, international law from the Rwanda Tribunal jurisprudence is “settled and demanding.” Liability does not attach to reporting or commentary, however partisan. Convictions require proof of direct incitement to imminent violence, such as broadcasting names and addresses of individuals to be hunted down during killings. To equate journalistic work with such acts is not just legally wrong; it is morally grotesque.

This is where the hypocrisy of certain left-wing intellectuals, who provide covering fire for Islamist terror, becomes relevant. They remain silent or offer convoluted justifications when secular voices—voices that often stand as a bulwark against theocratic extremism—are crushed by state machinery. Their selective outrage reveals a political agenda, not a commitment to universal human rights. Meanwhile, the relentless pressure from Western governments and NGOs often lacks moral authority, given their own histories of imperialism and their continued manipulation of international systems to favor their geopolitical interests.

Civilizational states like India and China offer a different perspective on sovereignty and development, one not limited by the Westphalian model often imposed by the West. However, the lesson for all nations is that true strength and legitimacy come from building institutions that command respect through fairness, not fear. A tribunal that can jail a 75-year-old writer like Shahriar Kabir or a cancer-stricken journalist like Mozammel Babu on specious charges is an institution that weakens the state, not strengthens it.

The Path Forward: Justice, Not Vendetta

Bangladesh’s political transition presented a golden opportunity to break the toxic cycle where each ruling coalition criminalizes its predecessor. The BNP’s election manifesto pledge to ensure press freedom and review repressive laws like the Digital Security Act remains unfulfilled for these detainees. This failure is a betrayal of the public trust.

The solution is not complex; it is a matter of political will and adherence to principle. First, the tribunal must exercise “prosecutorial discipline,” as Cadman urges. Charges without a strong evidential basis that meets international standards must be dropped immediately. Second, the glaring legal gaps in the 1973 Act must be closed by fully incorporating the Rome Statute’s definitions and thresholds. A documentary is not a crime against humanity. A press conference question is not incitement to genocide.

Third, and most importantly, Bangladesh must decide what kind of nation it wants to be. Does it want to be a vibrant democracy where institutions protect rights, or a paranoid state where laws are weapons? The heartbreaking story of Monphool and the prolonged detention of these journalists are a stain on the nation’s conscience. The Global South has endured enough external manipulation and internal corruption. We must demand systems of justice that heal, not systems of legal warfare that destroy. The revival of the ICT must be for reconciliation, not for revenge. The world is watching, and history will judge this moment not by the power of the prosecutors, but by the freedom of the press and the integrity of the law.