The media in Bangladesh: Crisis, challenges and transition
Part memoir, part critique, Afsan Chowdhury’s sweeping reflection on Bangladeshi media interrogates power, censorship, and the digital age, urging readers to see journalism as a struggle over class and control.

Afsan Chowdhury's The Media in Bangladesh: Crisis, Challenges and Transition is a complex, nuanced and deeply informed exploration of the evolving media landscape in Bangladesh. Blending autobiographical reflection with academic analysis and political economy critique, this book is more than a simple journalistic memoir or media survey. It is a long-view, multi-decade reflection on the role, transformation and contradictions of Bangladeshi media in a country marked by authoritarian legacies, crony capitalism, rapid digitalisation and an ever-volatile public sphere.
The book is structured around his own writings from 2014 to 2023, with added retrospective commentary and context. What emerges is a sweeping, often sobering diagnosis of a media industry simultaneously bursting with life and riddled with structural ailments. From his vantage point as a veteran journalist and cultural commentator, the writer crafts a unique narrative that is both personal and political, analytical and anecdotal.
Framing the media landscape
From the outset, the writer emphasises the duality of media in Bangladesh. On one hand, technological growth and increasing media outlets (newspapers, TV, online portals, social media) signal a booming information sector. On the other hand, ethical standards, investigative rigour and editorial independence have often stagnated or declined. This contrast — between quantitative growth and qualitative erosion — is a core concern.
The writer's core argument is that the media must be analysed within the framework of network capitalism and class dynamics. Media is not merely a tool for communication or a public good; it is, more crucially, a site of power — a vehicle for gaining social capital, legitimacy and economic advantage. This reframing is critical to understanding why media owners continue to invest in unprofitable outlets: not for monetary return, but for access, prestige and political leverage.
Media as an economic instrument
The first thematic cluster in the book interrogates the relationship between media structures and the broader economy. The writer traces media's shift from a revolutionary political tool in East Pakistan to a vehicle for legitimacy in the post-independence state. Post-1971, the media became aligned with power structures rather than resisting them.
The writer paints a picture of media outlets that are deeply entangled in a crony capitalist order, where ownership often reflects class interests rather than journalistic or public service missions.
He critiques the idea of independent journalism in an economy where media survival depends on patronage from political elites or business tycoons. In this view, editors and senior journalists are not independent actors but embedded agents who often serve the interests of their paymasters. The media, instead of checking power, becomes another node in the elite power network.
This section also critiques the romanticised notion of the editor as a public intellectual or democratic crusader. In contemporary Bangladesh, the editor's role is complex and often compromised — a mixture of arbitrator, censor, advocate and actor in political theatre. The writer compellingly tracks this transformation and the blurred lines between editorial leadership and political allegiance.
Legal, institutional and social censorship
One of the strongest sections of the book is Chowdhury's detailed analysis of censorship in Bangladesh, where he challenges the notion that censorship is solely a government function. Instead, he shows it to be multi-layered and institutionalised—shaped by internal newsroom controls, repressive laws like the ICT Act and DSA, audience-driven social pressures, and widespread self-censorship among journalists.
The writer is particularly critical of how vague laws — ostensibly enacted to fight cybercrime or hate speech — have been deployed against journalists, writers and dissidents. The DSA, in his view, is less a digital governance tool and more a bludgeon used against dissent. He provocatively likens the DSA to "a mad dog that can bite anyone," underscoring its arbitrariness and danger. However, the expat media (Kanak Sarwar, Iliyas, Pinaki Bhattacharya etc) operate from abroad, beyond the state's legal reach. Social media democratised news dissemination, reducing traditional media's monopoly. The DSA is ineffective here, leading to state frustration.
This section is not just a legal critique but a broader reflection on freedom, surveillance and fear. It maps the climate of caution that pervades Bangladeshi journalism today — a climate in which bold, investigative work is rare and survival often means silence or complicity.
Pandemic, populism and the future
The Covid-19 pandemic is presented as both a stress test and a turning point for the media. The writer critiques how fear-based coverage, overreliance on experts and lack of scientific literacy led to misinformation and panic. He notes that the pandemic accelerated a move toward personalised, social media-based news consumption, deepening the crisis of traditional outlets.
He questioned whether true media freedom is possible in a system dominated by networked authoritarianism and crony capitalism. For the writer, the answer is not a simple "yes" or "no" but a call for realism. Media, like all institutions, reflects its environment. It cannot be insulated from politics, class, or economics.
The digital media revolution
The writer devotes considerable space to analysing how digital media and social platforms have revolutionised the Bangladeshi media scene. He sees this as a double-edged sword.
On one hand, social media has democratised communication. It has allowed new voices — vloggers, diaspora activists, independent content creators — to challenge the dominance of mainstream media. Platforms like Facebook and YouTube are now central to political discourse, public mobilisation and even alternative journalism.
On the other hand, the quality and sustainability of digital media remain questionable. The writer coined the term "views media" to describe the opinion-heavy, often fact-light content that now dominates the digital space. Talk shows, vlogs and reaction videos generate clicks and clout, but often at the expense of journalistic rigour.
The book also provides a compelling and timely analysis of how the political landscape in Bangladesh is undergoing a profound transformation due to the rise of social media. It argues that political influence and discourse are increasingly shifting from traditional spaces — like public rallies and mainstream media platforms — to digital ones. The author presents this shift not merely as a trend, but as a structural change in how political power is articulated, negotiated and contested.
At the outset, the writer introduces the idea that two parallel political spaces now coexist: one belonging to traditional politicians and another to social media personalities. These spaces sometimes intersect, but the distinction is clear — social media figures now compete with and in some cases eclipse, the influence of career politicians. The suggestion that professional politicians are "not necessarily winning" sets the tone for the broader argument: that power is increasingly platform-based rather than party-based.
The discussion then turns to how even mainstream professional media now derive their power from digital visibility. Traditional TV and newspapers are no longer dominant unless they are amplified by social media circulation. The landscape has fragmented: there are online portals that mimic mainstream media, hybrid informal news channels and fully independent social media outlets — each with varying degrees of professionalism but substantial reach. This signals that clout and legitimacy are no longer dictated by institutional history, but by digital engagement and visibility.
The writer reflects on the decline of street politics in Bangladesh, once central to political mobilisation, now largely replaced by digital discourse. While mass rallies still occur, their impact is more symbolic, with political debates increasingly unfolding through livestreams and social media.
Political commentary has become decentralised, as talk shows and online platforms feature influencers and commentators alongside politicians. This broadens participation but also fuels populism, misinformation, and polarisation, weakening the traditional elite's control over national discourse.
Though digital spaces attract large audiences, their content quality is uneven and often sensational. Yet their immediacy and perceived authenticity resonate with many, especially in a media environment shaped by censorship and limited press freedom.
He also explores the class divide in digital access. While the middle class dominates online spaces, large portions of the population remain digitally excluded. Thus, the online public sphere, while louder, is not necessarily more representative.
The writer views digital media as a necessary and inevitable evolution. It has ended the monopoly of the elite over media production and forced traditional media to innovate, though often reluctantly.
Media as class terrain
Another compelling theme in the book is the class conflict within the media industry, where underpaid and overworked journalists—often from middle-class backgrounds—face limited upward mobility due to entrenched ownership structures. While a few star journalists rise to elite status, this blurs the line between journalism and power, creating an unstable ecosystem marked by symbolic prestige but concentrated economic power, leading to tension, opportunism, and burnout.
Media moments
Scattered throughout the book are vivid accounts of specific events that reflect deeper systemic flaws in Bangladesh's media landscape. These case studies exemplify broader trends such as the erosion of professional standards, the rise of click-driven newsrooms, and the shallow replication of global media formats without equivalent support structures.
The book's strengths lie in its analytical depth, applying a rare political economy lens to Bangladeshi media; its historical continuity, tracing dysfunctions to long-term trends; and its firsthand insight, drawn from the writer's experience as a participant-observer.
A vital work in a time of transition
This book is a landmark contribution to the understanding of Bangladeshi media — not just as an institution, but as a battleground of class, power and identity. It's part memoir, part media theory, part political commentary — but always anchored in reality.
It doesn't pretend to have all the answers. But by asking the right questions — about ownership, objectivity, sustainability and freedom — Afsan Chowdhury has given a work of enduring relevance and critical urgency.
Written by Jannatun Nahar, Senior Programme Officer, Media Resources Development Initiative (MRDI)
Email: jannatun@mrdibd.org