Since mid-April 2015, David Bergman hasn’t changed his Facebook profile picture. For the past eleven years, it has remained a cartoon depiction of him dressed as Batman.

Drawn by an admirer, the image portrays him as a kind of guardian or superhero….and that characterization is hardly an exaggeration. During much of Sheikh Hasina’s decade-and-a-half-long autocratic rule, when human rights violations were widespread, David was often seen by victims and their families as both a first and last resort.

Bangladesh has had its share of foreign journalists documenting its history. Given that the nation was born out of a bloody liberation war, a significant portion of its objective historical record has been preserved by international reporters.

Yet few have demonstrated the same level of longevity or endured the challenges of this delta’s demanding climate as David has.

Although the Hasina administration ultimately declined to renew his visa—preventing him from staying during her final completed term—his journalistic presence has continued to cast a long shadow (in a good way) over Bangladesh.

Recently, Bangla Outlook (English) editor Faisal Mahmud sat down with David for an in-depth interview discussing his work and perspectives. What follows is an excerpt from that conversation for our readers.

Faisal Mahmud: We know you’ve been covering Bangladesh for a long time, but how did it all begin? When and how did you first start your journalism work here?

David Bergman: Where do I start?! My connection to Bangladesh began through my relationship with my wife, Sara Hossain. We met while I was pursuing my master’s degrees at the London School of Economics (LSE), and we both took a course on law and society in South Asia held at the Institute of Advanced Legal Studies. We went up in the lift together and started talking, and the rest is history. That was in 1989.

By then, I had already developed an interest in South Asia. Shortly after finishing university, I set out with a friend on a cycling journey to Bhopal, India, the site of the 1984 Union Carbide gas disaster. We began our trip in August 1985 and I arrived in Bhopal in February the following year.

FM: Where did you start cycling from?

DB: I started from Birmingham, since I’d just finished my degree in law at the University of Birmingham. It was during that time that a friend, Jonathan Evan, now a psychiatrist, and I learned about the Bhopal gas disaster in India, and we decided to raise funds for the victims.

We were young,  and definitely driven by a sense of adventure, but also clear that we wanted to achieve something meaningful in the process. That was the core idea behind the journey.

We set off together, but my friend left when we reached Karachi. From there, I continued alone.

FM: What route did you take from Birmingham across Europe?

DB: We traveled overland across Europe, passing through France, Belgium, Austria and Hungary, and then into what was still Yugoslavia at the time. From there, we continued into Turkey, then Iran, and eventually Pakistan. After reaching Lahore, I took a train that ran between Lahore and Delhi. Altogether, the journey took about seven months.

I actually stayed in Karachi for a couple of months—we didn’t rush the trip but broke it into different stages along the way. When I finally reached Bhopal, I  started to volunteer with a group of young activists, some of whom later became well known academics and lawyers, and some of whom are still involved in working on these issues today, and through this work, became deeply interested in issues of corporate crime and accountability. In fact, much of my early career focused on these topics, shaped by my experiences there.

After about five or six months in Bhopal, I was unexpectedly and shockingly arrested—bizarrely accused of being “a Union Carbide spy”. At the time, there was intense post-disaster politics. Various activist groups were challenging the state over its failure to provide adequate relief, while many believed the authorities were covering up facts or protecting Union Carbide. I had been living and working closely with activists, which were highly critical of the authorities, and that’s what likely contributed to the arrest.

Perhaps there was some genuine uncertainty about what a foreigner like me was doing there, but it seemed more likely that the authorities were targeting activist networks, and I was an easy target. I was detained for a week in police custody and then in jail, before being granted bail, though I had to leave India by the end of the year. Eventually, the case was quashed by the Supreme Court of India, and after a few months I returned to the UK.

Back in the UK, I worked on human rights issues for a while with an organisation, Rights and Humanity focusing on advocacy on economic and social rights at the United Nations, and then with their support, a year or two later, I pursued my master’s at the London School of Economics, where I met Sara. By then, I already had a strong interest in South Asia, particularly India, which was my primary focus at the time.

FM: Did you produce a documentary on Bhopal?

DB: I didn’t make a documentary on Bhopal, At that time I was not involved in film making. But I was involved in setting up a group called the British Group for Justice in Bhopal, through which for a few years I did a significant amount of work on the issue.

FM: When did you first start staying in Bangladesh as a journalist?

DB: When I met Sara in 1988, she was at Bar school in London for a year. After that, she returned to Bangladesh, while we remained friends. We had planned to meet in Delhi in December 1990, which happened to be just before the fall of Hussain Muhammad Ershad. I had got a commission to write an article on the anniversary of the Bhopal disaster. But suddenly, a few days before we were due to meet, large-scale demonstrations broke out in Dhaka, and she told me she could not make it to Delhi.

Since I was in India, I thought I would take my chances and fly to Dhaka. I obtained a visa, got a commission to write an article, and arrived unannounced at Sara’s doorstep—right in the middle of that historic moment. Sara was none too pleased to see me! A lot was going on in their family. Her father was in the thick of the pro-democracy and anti-Ershad movement at that time, and was constantly moving from house to house to avoid arrest. I knew, at that time, practically nothing about Bangladesh politics, so I learnt a lot within those few intense days.

Out of that experience, I wrote an article for Economic and Political Weekly (EPW)—my very first piece on Bangladesh. It was a lengthy article focusing on the fall of Ershad. Afterwards, I returned to the UK. This was around 1990/1991, and at the time, my primary work still centered on corporate crime and accountability in the UK.

I continued writing extensively on corporate crime, particularly workplace deaths and the failure of the criminal justice system to hold companies and directors accountable. One of these inquiries led to my moving  into television and I began researching and producing documentaries on these issues working with a company called 20/20 Television, which made programmes for Channel 4 and ITV.

In around 1992, my work again connected to Bangladesh, this time catalysed by a conversation with a friend Gita Sahgal, who Gita was already a well-known journalist and was at that time trying to pitch a story to Channel 4 about the issue of religious fundamentalism.

While we were chatting, I read her proposal and noticed one particular point: it mentioned a connection between fundamentalism in Bangladesh and Britain, citing Chowdhury Mueen-Uddin—someone, involved in the student wing of the Jamaat-e-Islami, accused of war crimes during the 1971 Liberation War—who had subsequently become a prominent figure in British Muslim politics and was involved in the Rushdie affair. It should be noted that he has always denied the accusations against him.

That caught my attention. At that time in the UK, the issue of the prosecution of Nazi war criminals was a live one. In 1991, a law was passed allowing for their prosecution in the UK courts, and I realised the journalistic interest in a story about someone living in the UK, against whom there were serious allegations of war crimes could be in the public interest.  At that point, my knowledge of the 1971 war was limited—I knew of it, but not in depth. Still, it struck me as a potentially important story.

I was told about a book published by the Nirmul Committee, “Genocide ’71”, which documented allegations of war crimes.  I dug into the book to try to find out more about the basis of the allegations against Mueenuddin and others.  I began looking into who among those listed there were living in Britain and started researching whether the allegations held up.

This led me to go back to Bangladesh, where I spent about three months conducting research. During that time, I connected with a number of journalists, which is how I came to know Shahriar Kabir—who is now in detention—and journalist Zulfiquar Ali Manik.

FM: What happened afterwards?

DB: We then pitched the idea to Channel 4’s Dispatches, and they commissioned the documentary. That’s how we began working on The War Crimes File. Gita Sahgal was the producer, and I worked as the investigator. I spent many months in Bangladesh working with a group of journalists. We felt at the time that we had to operate under the radar and take care to avoid intervention by the authorities.

But finally, following the broadcast in the UK, we were able to screen the documentary in Bangladesh. It was a single, hour-long documentary broadcast in May 1995, and won a Royal Television Society Award. It was, I think, the first foreign investigative documentary looking at Jamaat-e-Islami’s role in war crimes during the 1971 war. It is still available on Youtube. By today’s standards it may seem slow-paced, but remains compelling.

The film was divided into three parts, each focusing on individuals alleged to have committed war crimes. The documentary drew me more deeply into the politics and legacy of 1971.

Alongside this, I continued my work on corporate crime and accountability, producing some more documentaries for 20/20 Television. Towards the end of 1990’s I left television and founded the Centre for Corporate Accountability, which focused on corporate crime issues in the UK.

Sara and I got married in 2000. There was always an ongoing discussion about whether we should move to Bangladesh. Sara had spent some time working in the UK, but she always wanted to return to work in Bangladesh. Soon after our first child was born, we finally moved to Bangladesh in 2003.

FM: What did you do when you first moved to Bangladesh? Did you enter journalism right away?

DB: Initially, I tried to establish a sister organization to the Centre for Corporate Accountability in Bangladesh, called Safety and Rights looking at issues of workers’ rights However, it was difficult to secure NGO Bureau permission, and even during the subsequent emergency period, progress remained slow.

Meanwhile, the CCA faced difficulties with getting sustainable funding, and we had to wind it up. Safety and Rights continued independently under the leadership of a trusted colleague.

At that point, I decided to return to journalism. My first foray was with The Daily Star, after the Awami League returned to power. I joined as Editor for Special Reports and worked with a small team to produce some strong investigative pieces. While I had a good relationship with Mahfuz Anam, and many others at the paper I didn’t quite fit in with the newsroom leaders at the time.

I then moved to bdnews24.com, where I worked with an excellent editor, Rashida Ahmed (Bonnie) and others. I enjoyed my time there, but I began to feel uncomfortable with the influence of Salman F Rahman, who was a major stakeholder. It seemed that his press releases were consistently prioritized, and I felt that compromised editorial independence. After a discussion with Toufique Khalidi, I decided to leave after about six months.

I then joined New Age around 2010 or 2011, which turned out to be a much better fit for me. I found the newsroom environment both engaging and intellectually stimulating. It had a somewhat old-fashioned charm, full of character, and I built lasting relationships with many colleagues there. I wrote extensively and stayed for a significant period.

In 2013, the Dhaka Tribune was launched, and Zafar Sobhan, the new editor, encouraged me to join. I was excited at the idea of being involved with a new paper from the ground up, and so, I left the New Age, but things didn’t work out. I had hoped that the owners would agree to principles of editorial independence, but when it was clear that that was not going to happen, after a few months we parted ways and I returned to the New Age. It was during this period that I began reporting on the war crimes trials—an issue I felt strongly about, given my earlier involvement in researching the events and atrocities of 1971.

FM: I’ve heard from other reporters covering the ICT that you had dedicated staff assigned to the courts.

DB: When I first went there, it was simply as a reporter, interested in observing how this long overdue process of accountability would unfold. But I already had some concerns,particularly about the fact that the law itself hadn’t been adequately updated before the trials began.

Before the proceedings started, the Law Commission reviewed the 1973 International Crimes Tribunal Act to consider what amendments might be necessary. I was one of a few who submitted proposals aimed at bringing it in line with international standards, but the Awami League led government at the time was not interested in any far reaching changes to the law, to update it in the light of developing international standards.

The trials then began, and interestingly, my first notable story on the trial process was published in April 2010 during my time at bdnews24.com about the powers the Tribunal had at that time to arrest accused. At the time, Anisul Haque was not a Minister, but a well-known senior lawyer, known for his role in prosecuting those accused of the assassination of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.

I wasn’t particularly aware of Anisul Haque’s political affiliations then. However, there was something quite unusual about how the trial process had been initiated. I approached him and shared my interpretation, asking whether the procedures had been handled properly. He agreed with my concerns and acknowledged that there were procedural issues. Based on that, I published a story, containing on the record comments from him, which he admitted to me later had caused him considerable embarrassment. After that, he never assisted me with any further reporting on the trials.

When the trial process started, I thought it was important to document the trials thoroughly—not just for immediate reporting, but also as a historical record. So I started a blog to track and analyze what was happening in the tribunals.

As the trials progressed, and hearings started on a daily basis I  brought in a group of young law students from Dhaka University to help follow and document the proceedings more closely. However, we were not able to follow all the trials.

FM: You ran a blog, right….?

DB: I maintained one blog dedicated to the ICT Bangladesh War Crimes Tribunal, and for anyone interested in the tribunal proceedings at that time this blog remains one of the most comprehensive sources of material available.

Looking back, I’m really glad I undertook that effort. I believe it will prove to be a valuable resource for people in the future.

I also at that time set up a blog BangladeshPolitico which was about general politics.

FM: That blog is fine… but are you planning to do a book on that?

DB: That would require an enormous amount of effort, and I don’t know if I can. That said, I am currently following the tribunals which are now dealing with the trials of crimes against humanity related to the mass killings during the repression of the  2024 July Uprising. I am doing this, in a more organized way, with young students again assisting, much like before, and perhaps tin due courses here might be something interesting to be written comparing the two experiences.

FM: As you mentioned, your blog and reporting likely form the most comprehensive repository of coverage on the tribunal. Your work generated significant controversy, particularly amid claims that the Awami League politicized the tribunal. As a journalist who has closely covered the war crimes trials, how would you briefly assess the tribunal? In your view, was it politicized—and if so, to what extent, and why?

DB: I was someone who strongly supported the idea of accountability, which is why I initially approached the tribunals with a positive outlook. However, it quickly became clear to me that the legal framework itself was flawed. There were fundamental issues with the structure of the tribunal, and as the prosecutions began, it became evident that there was a significant degree of inappropriate conduct on the part of the prosecution.

The trial of Delwar Hossain Sayeedi was among the first major cases, and it exposed a number of serious concerns. For instance, Shukhoranjan Bali, a defense witness, was reportedly picked up just outside the tribunal. There were also controversies surrounding prosecution witnesses being housed in a so-called “safe house” in Dhaka, which raised further allegations about witness handling.

Another major issue was the Skype scandal, where leaked conversations and emails from a judge’s computer brought into question the tribunal’s independence and integrity. Throughout my coverage, one recurring concern was that the defense was often not given adequate opportunity to call witnesses, along with several other procedural shortcomings.

Taken together, it became increasingly clear that the process was highly politicized. Regardless of one’s views about the accused, there was never any realistic possibility of acquittal under such conditions, which itself raises questions about the fairness of the trials.

It’s also important to consider the timing—the trials began roughly 40 years after the war. Investigating crimes after such a long gap is inherently difficult. There was nothing in the way of audio or video evidence – which for example exists in relation to the crimes committed in July 2024 -  meaning that much of the case relied on eyewitness testimony, which becomes less reliable over time—especially in a deeply polarized political environment.

In such a context, it seemed that the prosecution, aware of the weaknesses in their evidence, sought to strengthen their case by other means, sometimes at the expense of due process and fairness. This, in many ways, shaped how the tribunals ultimately functioned.

That said, and while it may not be a popular view right now in Bangladesh, some of those accused may indeed have been responsible for the crimes alleged. However, the manner in which the trials were conducted meant that they did not receive a fair trial.

FM: When did you first begin working on enforced disappearances? Was it around the time before that election, when BNP leaders—including Sajedul Sumon and ten others—were abducted?

DB: I received a commission from Al Jazeera in October 2014 to look into disappearances. While working on that piece, I got in touch with Sanjida Islam. During our conversations, I came to realize that not only her own brother along with five others had disappeared, but a significant number of others had also been picked just before the January 2014 elections, over a short period of time and all of this had happened in December, which brought back eerie echos of the disappearances of 1971.

After I wrote the story for Al Jazeera, I met Sanjida numerous times and we began to piece together the broader pattern. There had been many disappearances, and I don’t think—though I could be mistaken—that even she initially had a complete picture of the scale of what had happened in that deadly two week period.

It took us quite a while to compile the information, investigate the circumstances of the detentions, and determine how many people had disappeared in the periods leading up to the 2014 election.

In the end, we identified around 21 separate cases of disappeared men, among whom 19 individuals never returned. It was a horrifying eye-opener for me.

I learned a great deal through that process, and working with Sanjida was invaluable—she contributed significantly, both in terms of insight and helping shape the reporting.

That collaboration eventually led to a series of reports in New Age, marking the start of my deeper engagement with the issue. Muktadir Rashid from New Age worked closely with me on those reports.

FM: Now that the interim government has formed a commission to investigate enforced disappearances, are you satisfied with its work? Do you think it can provide some sense of closure to the victims’ families?

DB: I’m not sure whether it truly provides closure, but I do think it is an important contribution. One can say many things about the interim government—both positive and negative—but it is important to acknowledge that establishing the Commission on Disappearances stands out as one of its successes.

The Commission appears to have carried out its work in a highly professional and thorough manner. The documents it has produced are of a high standard, and its members deserve genuine credit for that. While I don’t have detailed knowledge of its entire process, everything I’ve seen so far has been quite impressive.

That said, there has been criticism. Some argue that the Commission has focused too much on individuals who disappeared but later returned, and not enough on those who remain missing. Because a number of these returned individuals are linked to Jamaat—particularly in a couple of prominent cases—there are perceptions of bias.

I can’t say definitively whether the Commission was biased in that regard. However, there is a clear logic to focusing on those who returned: they are able to provide firsthand accounts of what actually happened. In contrast, in cases where individuals never came back, evidence is often extremely limited—sometimes confined to the moment of abduction, with little knowledge of what followed.

So, from an investigative standpoint, it made pragmatic sense for the Commission to prioritize testimonies from survivors. As a result, they’ve been able to gather substantial evidence about how the system of enforced disappearances operated overall. And prosecutions are now taking place, in part of the basis of these investigations.

FM: There are allegations that the law and order situation has deteriorated under the interim government, with some critics labeling it as having enabled “mobocracy.” From your perspective as a journalist who has long covered Bangladesh, how do you assess this decline in law and order? Why do you think such a situation was allowed to emerge?

DB: It’s a complex issue. To begin with, the interim government took over at a very fragile moment. A new set of political forces was emerging after the fall of an authoritarian government led by the Awami League that had long suppressed dissent.

At the same time, many of the very institutions responsible for maintaining law and order were themselves under scrutiny, having been implicated in the killing of hundreds of people.

This created a deep mistrust of law enforcement, while officers on the ground were uncertain about what actions they could or could not take—especially with restrictions on the use of force. Altogether, these factors made it extremely difficult for the government to enforce order effectively.

Secondly, the role of the students active in the July Uprising became significant. What began as street protests led by young people—often disrupting normal life—quickly grew into a broader movement that ultimately contributed to the fall of Sheikh Hasina. However, the energy and momentum of that movement didn’t simply disappear afterward.

Many of those involved realized they now had a level of influence they had never experienced before. As a result, various groups—some more organized than others—continued to assert demands, and at times, their actions took on the characteristics of mobs.

Another important factor is that the interim leadership, particularly Muhammad Yunus, came to power in part due to the support of that very student movement. This created a complicated relationship. Yunus even brought several student representatives into the government, which further blurred the lines.

There is a very reasonable argument that he could and should have maintained greater distance, but given the circumstances, it’s perhaps understandable why holding those groups at arms length – particularly when one had three student leaders as advisors  within the government - proved very challenging.

Overall, the situation was clearly problematic, shaped by a combination of political transition, weakened institutions, and empowered street movements. Decisions such as the destruction of Sheikh Mujib’s home at Road No. 32, part of the history of the country, and the banning of the activities of the Awami League – which came about directly as a result of the pressure and intimidation of street protests led by student activists later associated with the NCP and others – raised concerns.

Whether one describes these groups as “political mobs” or simply as assertive protest movements largely depends on perspective—critics tend to use the former term, while supporters frame them in more sympathetic language.

FM: The current ICT is handling cases against Sheikh Hasina and other Awami League leaders. Given your long-standing advocacy for due process—something that put you at odds with the Awami League government—and your continued emphasis on procedural fairness, how do you assess the current tribunal? Do you think proper due process is being followed?

DB: It’s a complicated situation. The process is still ongoing, with many trials proceeding, so it’s difficult to reach a definitive conclusion. To begin with, the government has made improvements to a number of laws, and they deserve credit for that.

However, those reforms did not go far enough. Ideally, they should have taken further steps to align the legal framework more fully with international standards. While the definition of offenses has been updated to better reflect international law, significant gaps remain—particularly in procedural and due process safeguards.

The interim government did not learn enough lessons from why the earlier trials were so problematic. Prosecutors should have been appointed from a politically neutral pool of lawyers. There should also have been at least one non-Bangladeshi judge, with experience in international criminal law, for each Tribunal. This would have enhanced the tribunal’s independence and credibility.

However, the government has argued that it was difficult to find qualified individuals willing to take on such roles. For example, in practice, most national lawyers with experience in international criminal law tend to be aligned with either the Awami League or Jamaat. The Awami League–aligned lawyers were involved in earlier prosecutions, while Jamaat-linked lawyers were often part of the defense.

FM: What is your take on appointing Tajul Islam as the chief prosecutor…he was recently changed though…

DB: When he was appointed, I did voice my disappointment. He was one of the more senior defence lawyers acting for a number of the Jamaat-e-Islami accused in the 1971 trials. It would have been better to deflect all concerns about potential conflict of interest to have had a person unconnected with the previous trials.

However, appointing someone like Tajul Islam made a certain degree of sense. Although his political associations are contentious, he is knowledgeable in international criminal law and widely regarded as a capable lawyer, and had a great deal of drive. Arguably, he knew what had gone wrong earlier, and if he approached the process with an open mind, could have ensured a much improved process.

Many of the current prosecutors come from similar backgrounds. Interestingly, the BNP has historically had very little involvement with the tribunal and reportedly declined to nominate potential prosecutors, which limited the possibility of broader political representation.

The tribunal has proceeded with considerable energy, with a large number of cases being handled—much of that momentum driven by Tajul Islam. However, there are concerns that some trials may have been prepared too quickly.

In the case involving Sheikh Hasina the prosecution appears to have gathered some strong evidence, including audio recordings as well as testimony from a former Inspector General of Police who turned state witness.

That said, the trial was conducted in absentia, and the law remained unchanged meaning Hasina and others could not choose their own legal representation. Instead, court-appointed lawyers are representing them, and these lawyers are not robust in their defense. This raises concerns about fairness.

Overall, while I hesitate to make a final assessment, there are clearly certain procedural concerns that cannot be ignored.

The government definitely missed an opportunity to make these trials above controversy. It should have made much greater use of experienced international legal figures such as Toby Cadman, who was appointed as a special assistant to the chief prosecutor but not fully utilized. Involving experts more meaningfully could have strengthened the tribunal’s credibility.

One of the inherent challenges of the tribunal is that it relies entirely on domestic judges, with no background on international criminal law. Including one or two international judges could have enhanced perceptions of independence and impartiality.

From the perspective of those accused, there will inevitably be criticisms of the process—and some of those concerns may be valid.

FM: In one of your Facebook posts before the election, you mentioned that Bangladesh has effectively become a three-party system—comprising the BNP, Awami League, and Jamaat. Traditionally, most countries tend to have two dominant political forces. Do you truly believe Bangladesh has now evolved into a three-party system?

DB: I made that comment in the context of polling before the election. Looking ahead, if the Awami League returns to Bangladesh—it will represent those with ideas and beliefs that will continue to resonate with a significant portion of the population.

Completely excluding it from the political landscape would, in my view, be problematic. Despite the role of its leadership in significant and continuing repression (culminating in the July 2024 protest killings), a reformed version of the party one which preferably acknowledges its previous role in the July killings - could (and should be allowed to) re-emerge.

The key question, then, is what happens if—and when—it returns to the political arena. 

FM: Will it still be a three party situation?

DB: That’s an interesting point. Many argue that it may actually be in the BNP’s interest for the Awami League to return, on the assumption that it would split or absorb part of the Jamaat vote. But the situation is more complex.

The current Jamaat vote appears to consist of its traditional base, along with some former BNP supporters who have shifted toward Jamaat, as well as a segment of younger voters who were not previously aligned with any major party.

If the Awami League returns, the bigger challenge may actually be for the BNP. A significant number of voters who previously supported the Awami League may have temporarily aligned with the BNP, and those voters could shift back. In that sense, the Awami League’s return could pose a greater threat to the BNP than to Jamaat, which seems to have consolidated a relatively stable support base.

That said, there is also another perspective: BNP supporters might argue that the Awami League’s re-entry would create a need for strategic voting to prevent its return to power. In that case, some Jamaat-leaning voters might choose to back the BNP to avoid splitting the vote. It could even open the possibility of renewed alliances between the BNP and Jamaat.

Ultimately, there are multiple dynamics at play, and the outcome would depend on how these voter shifts and political strategies unfold.

FM: What about NCP? They're still a new party, but do you think they will do well?

DB: It’s difficult to say with certainty. They performed well in the election, but a significant part of that success may have come from Jamaat’s support. Without that alliance, it’s unclear whether they would have achieved the same level of backing.

At the moment, the NCP doesn’t seem to have a clearly defined identity. It’s not entirely clear what it stands for in contrast to Jamaat or other political parties. It does have a narrative, and perhaps over time it will develop a stronger sense of direction—especially within the context of a new parliament, where it may begin to define its priorities more clearly. But as of now, that identity is still taking shape.

I do have concerns about the NCP when it comes to issues of justice and accountability. On one hand, I am deeply sympathetic to their emphasis—and that of others—on ensuring accountability for the July killings.

However, from some of their public statements, it appears they do not give sufficient (or indeed any) importance to due process, despite many of their own lived experiences as victims of arbitrary detention or custodial torture.

There seems to be a tendency to equate accountability with arresting and incarcerating people simply for their association with the Awami League—without distinguishing between their roles and responsibilities as supporters, MPs, or local or central leaders.

But accountability should be based on evidence. People should only be detained where there is credible evidence against them, and there are currently cases where individuals appear to have been detained without such evidence.

Ideally, I would like to see the NCP position itself as both pro-accountability and pro–due process. It’s concerning that some within the movement do not fully appreciate that these two principles must go hand in hand.

Justice should ensure that those responsible for crimes are held accountable, while also protecting those who may be unfairly targeted simply due to political affiliation.

FM: Thank You for your time.

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