A force in denial: The unfinished story of police reform
This episode is telling — not just for the act of violence, but for the mentality behind the denial. Instead of confronting misconduct, the instinct of the force was to refute reality, similar to Hasina-era cops

On 27 August, during a scuffle with protesting engineering students at Shahbagh, images and video footage captured a policeman clamping his hand tightly over a student's mouth. The image quickly spread across social media, drawing public outrage.
Yet, the Dhaka Metropolitan Police (DMP) released a statement the next day, claiming, "A deep observation of the image reveals that it is entirely generated using AI technology and bears no relation to reality."
The denial did not hold. Other outlets carried the same clip, the metadata was analysed, and the victim himself came forward to testify. This episode is telling — not just for the act of violence, but for the mentality behind the denial. Instead of confronting misconduct, the instinct of the force was to refute reality, as if truth itself were a nuisance to be brushed aside.
This reflex of denial is not new.
For years, the Bangladesh police have been trained less in accountability than in loyalty to power. Under the long rule of the Awami League, the force was gradually transformed from a public institution into an instrument of political repression.
Critics called it a "killing machine", and the July Uprising showed why. As citizens poured onto the streets, demanding democracy and the fall of authoritarian rule, they were met with bullets, tear gas, and batons. The police, sworn to protect, became executioners in uniform.
When the Awami League finally fell on 5 August, many believed a new dawn had come. The interim government spoke of justice, reform and rebuilding trust in the state. Among the initiatives was the formation of a Police Administration Reform Commission. It presented 11 proposals.
These proposals ranged from establishing an independent commission to oversee recruitment and promotions, to curbing political influence in transfers, changing rules of engagement during crowd control, mandating procedures after arresting an individual, and establishing an independent police commission. On paper, it was a serious effort.
But months later, that hope has largely evaporated. The commission's recommendations remain mostly unimplemented. Instead of bold reform, the old patterns persist.
This is not the first clash between the police and students in Shahbagh.
In March 2025, the police clashed with the leftist activists at the same spot, which left a number of the activists injured. After the clash, the police filed cases against the activists for attacking them, naming some top leftist student leaders.
A month later, when Bangladeshi model and actress Meghna Alam was detained under the country's draconian Special Powers Act for 30 days, lawyers and rights activists raised concerns over the way she was picked up from home, the late-night hearing, and the state of civil liberties.
"There have been new guidelines regarding actions after arresting an individual, however, as we have seen yesterday, a case was filed after 12 hours from detention against former MP Abdul Latif Siddique and Dhaka University's Law Department Professor Sheikh Hafizur Rahman (Karzon). And the case was filed under the infamous Anti-Terrorism Act. And it was used against someone's speech."
Barrister Sara Hossain, a prominent lawyer and human rights activist, said, "On one hand, we are seeing the attempt to reform the laws, on the other hand, many recommendations for police reform have not been accepted yet, let alone to be implemented. However, some changes are visible. To that extent, I would say there have been some positive measures to reform the legal framework."
To be fair, the situation is not as dire as it was under AL rule. Protesters today no longer face the spectre of being shot on sight. Lethal weapons are not deployed at every gathering. Encounters do not happen where every killing follows the same script. There is, undeniably, a change of atmosphere.
"As we have seen in Gopalganj, the police didn't use lethal weapons. The army did. The loss of five lives is shocking and appalling, but unlike before, the police weren't the ones using lethal weapons for crowd control," Sara Hossain added.
But this modest improvement should not be mistaken for reform. It is merely a lowering of intensity, not a change of character.
The lawyer further said, "There have been new guidelines regarding actions after arresting an individual, however, as we have seen yesterday, a case was filed after 12 hours from detention against former MP Abdul Latif Siddique and Dhaka University's Law Department Professor Sheikh Hafizur Rahman (Karzon). And the case was filed under the infamous Anti-Terrorism Act. And it was used against someone's speech. So, we can still see reflexive action from the police like using a cannon to kill a mosquito."
So, why then is reform not happening?
The answer lies in a mix of institutional inertia, political reluctance and bureaucratic resistance.
For decades, the police have been treated as an auxiliary arm of whichever government was in power. This has fostered a culture of obedience to authority, rather than service to the public. Undoing this culture requires more than a few cosmetic measures; it requires structural overhaul. But structural overhaul threatens entrenched interests — both within the force and within the state. Those who benefit from politicised policing have no incentive to dismantle it.
The police themselves admit it. In an event in Chapainawabganj in April this year, the DIG of Rajshahi Range, Mohammad Shahjahan Miah, said, "You can be certain that no government will ever reform the police law. Because then, the police will no longer be their muscle."
The interim government, despite its rhetoric, has so far lacked either the political will or the coherence to push reform through. Even within the cabinet, there are divisions.
The Home Ministry, for instance, has argued against creating a truly independent oversight body, fearing it would weaken administrative control. Such objections reveal a mindset that still sees the police as an instrument to be "managed", rather than a service to be democratised.
Yet, reform is not impossible. Other countries in South Asia have embarked on difficult but necessary changes. Nepal created a Police Service Commission with oversight on promotions and recruitment. In Sri Lanka, despite setbacks, attempts were made to depoliticise policing through constitutional councils. Even in Bangladesh, there have been several attempts to reform the police in the 1980s. What is missing is political resolve.
To understand the urgency, one must look back at history.
The Bangladesh police, like its counterparts across the subcontinent, is a colonial inheritance. Created by the British in the 19th century, its primary mission was not to protect citizens but to control them. That DNA has never been fully replaced. Independent Bangladesh inherited the same laws, the same structures, and largely the same mentality. The force thus remains anachronistic — modern in equipment, but archaic in purpose.
The question, then, is whether Bangladesh will continue to live with this contradiction after the July Uprising. But one thing is clear: The nation cannot build social peace while its law enforcement is haunted by memories of repression and the same attitude from that repressive time.