Bangladesh must dismantle impunity to protect children

The assault and killing of a child should shock a nation. Yet in Bangladesh, each new case is followed by a familiar cycle: public horror, political promises, calls for swift justice and then silence until the next child is attacked, sexually assaulted or killed.

That is the most disturbing reality of all. It is not simply that these crimes occur, but that they have become routine enough to risk being treated as another tragic headline in an endless stream of misery. We grieve, we rage, we demand punishment and then we move on. The perpetrators change; the pattern does not.

From the death of eight-year-old Asiya in Magura in 2025 to the sexual assault and killing of Ramisa in May 2026, and other cases involving children barely old enough to understand what happened to them, these are not isolated incidents. They expose a deeper truth: Bangladesh is confronting a systemic failure to protect its children.

Child sexual abuse exists in every society. But when such crimes recur with alarming frequency, when survivors struggle to obtain justice and when perpetrators continue to believe they can escape accountability, the problem is no longer individual criminality alone. It is an institutional weakness. Society cannot claim surprise when the warning signs have long been visible.

The causes are complex. Poverty, inequality, child labour, homelessness and limited access to education all increase vulnerability. Deeply rooted patriarchal norms continue to normalise violence and silence survivors. Many children are abused not by strangers, but by people they know and trust – relatives, neighbours, teachers, employers or other authority figures who exploit their power.

Yet explanation must never become an excuse.

Too often, discussion of child sexual violence focuses on social conditions while avoiding the central question of accountability. Children are not being failed simply because Bangladesh is poor. They are being failed because institutions meant to protect them are often unable or unwilling to act quickly, effectively and consistently. When systems fail repeatedly, responsibility cannot rest only on individual offenders.

The country's child protection framework remains fragmented. Investigations are frequently delayed. Medical reports take too long. Evidence is mishandled or lost. Witnesses face intimidation. Families are pressured into silence or informal settlements. Court cases drag on for months or years. For many survivors, seeking justice becomes another form of trauma.

This culture of impunity is perhaps the greatest ally of child predators.

Harsh punishments alone will not solve the crisis. Governments have repeatedly responded to public outrage with promises of tougher penalties and faster trials. Accountability is necessary, but deterrence depends less on severity than on certainty: certainty of arrest, prosecution and conviction. A predator who believes he will never face trial is unlikely to be deterred by harsher sentencing.

What Bangladesh needs is not another temporary crackdown driven by anger. It needs sustained structural reform.

First, specialised child protection units should be established within law enforcement agencies nationwide. Officers must be trained in trauma-informed interviewing, forensic evidence collection and child-sensitive investigation. Children should never be forced to relive abuse through hostile or insensitive questioning.

Second, the justice system requires dedicated prosecutors and fast-track courts for crimes against children. Timelines for investigation and prosecution must be strictly monitored, and officials responsible for avoidable delays must be held accountable. Justice delayed is not merely justice denied; it discourages reporting and deepens fear.

Third, Bangladesh must invest in social services. Survivors and families need counselling, legal aid, medical care and long-term psychological support. Recovery does not end with conviction. Child protection must extend beyond the courtroom.

Fourth, schools must become sites of prevention. Age-appropriate education on bodily autonomy, consent, personal safety and reporting mechanisms should be part of the curriculum. Teaching children to recognise abuse is protection, not cultural erosion.

Fifth, public awareness campaigns must confront stigma. Community leaders, religious figures, educators and the media must challenge victim-blaming and encourage reporting. Silence protects offenders, not children.

Technology can also strengthen responses. Wider access to DNA testing, stronger forensic capacity and improved data systems can reduce reliance on unreliable testimony. Transparent national data would allow policy to respond to evidence, not isolated headlines.

But state action alone will not be enough. Every society reveals its values by whom it chooses to protect. Bangladesh rightly celebrates economic growth and development. Yet none of these achievements can compensate for a society in which children remain unsafe in homes, schools, workplaces and communities.

The true measure of progress is not infrastructure or income. It is whether the most vulnerable can live free from fear.

Each murdered child leaves behind grieving families, broken communities and futures that will never exist. The outrage that follows these crimes is justified. But outrage is not a policy. Nor is grief a substitute for reform.

The question facing Bangladesh is no longer whether child sexual violence is a national crisis. The evidence is overwhelming. The question is whether the country has the political will to dismantle the culture of impunity that allows it to persist.

Children cannot wait for another inquiry, another promise or another news cycle. They need protection now. They deserve a country that treats their safety not as an occasional priority, but as a fundamental obligation. Until that happens, outrage will remain performative, and failure to reform will amount to complicity.