A city at a standstill: Rethinking Dhaka’s protest culture

The fall of Sheikh Hasina's government has paved the way for democratic expression that was long suppressed by the Awami League regime through force and fear. Yet, few could have anticipated what would follow: a paralysis of Dhaka, not imposed by dictatorship, but brought about by relentless demonstrations. 

Since August 2024, more than 120 rallies and protests have reportedly taken place in the capital, plunging Dhaka's already chaotic traffic into a state of near-permanent standstill. Disappointingly, many of these demonstrations have been political in nature.

It is true that under the Awami League's authoritarian grip, opposition voices were stifled. Protests were often met with arrests, tear gas, and sweeping charges. After decades of suppression, it is perhaps understandable that political parties are now overcompensating. 

Parties such as the BNP, NCP, Jamaat-e-Islami, and Hefazat-e-Islam are in a frenzied race to "reclaim the republic." It is not uncommon to see multiple parties holding separate rallies within the same week. 

On 1 May, the BNP held a rally marking International Labour Day; the following day, the NCP rallied to demand justice for crimes committed under the previous regime and to call for institutional reform. On 3rd May, Hefazat-e-Islam staged a massive protest at Suhrawardy Udyan opposing the proposed Women's Reform Commission. All of this took place over a three-day public holiday.

Most political activities are concentrated in Dhaka, and there are valid reasons for this. The city houses the government's secretariat, the central offices of all major political parties, foreign embassies, numerous government and non-government organisations, businesses, educational institutions, and millions of residents. Neighbouring cities are also drawn into this dynamic.

Whenever a political party organises a rally, procession, or gathering in Dhaka, the traffic situation deteriorates drastically. These events are frequently held at central locations such as Naya Paltan, Shahbagh, Suhrawardy Udyan, and Baitul Mukarram. 

To attend, thousands of people converge on these venues on foot, or by buses and trucks. A journey that would ordinarily take ten minutes can end up taking an hour. Roads are often completely blocked by participants, and in some cases, closed to traffic without prior notice.

This severely disrupts the city's transport system, leaving commuters stranded for hours. Those travelling to nearby areas and workplaces suffer immensely—a frustration only the victims can truly understand. 

Vehicles attempt to divert through narrow side streets in a desperate bid to escape the gridlock, resulting in chaos spreading across the city. In the process, countless work hours are lost, and significant amounts of fuel are wasted each day.

The BNP, widely considered the primary contender in the upcoming general election, has been a leading player in this surge of street protests. From its 7 August start to its 12–25 February nationwide protest programme, the party has seized every opportunity to take to the streets. 

On 10 April, a BNP rally protesting the Gaza massacre caused severe congestion across Ramna, with authorities struggling to restore order even after the demonstration ended. Even the newly established National Citizen Party (NCP), hailed as a "third force" outside the AL-BNP duopoly, has followed the same path.

The irony is striking. Political parties that claim to serve the public interest have become key contributors to public suffering. These parties pledge to lower the cost of living, improve mobility, and uphold citizens' rights, yet their actions routinely violate these very promises. The working class—ironically, the demographic most of these parties claim to represent—suffers the most from lost wages and wasted hours stuck in traffic caused by political programmes.

In the age of digital communication, must meaningful protests still depend on the politics of disruption? Can political goals not be pursued through dialogue, civic forums, university town halls, or digital campaigns that don't clog the arteries of the capital? Or is political visibility now judged by how many roads can be blocked and how many hours can be stolen from ordinary citizens?

The capital is being held hostage by a politics of spectacle. In a city like Dhaka, where roads are already choked by street vendors, construction, and poor urban planning, these protests are not acts of liberation—they are acts of aggression against the people's right to free movement and dignified living. 

The ordinary citizen, already burdened by inflation, waterlogging, and pollution, must now play a daily guessing game: Which roads are blocked today? Which protest should I avoid? What emergency or appointment will I miss because another group is shouting slogans in Shahbagh or Motijheel?

There is no denying that protest is a fundamental right in any democracy. But rights must be exercised with responsibility. Political actors must learn that visibility is not a substitute for viability. Disruption is not a political strategy—it is a failure of strategy. 

As election season nears, parties must ask themselves: Are we winning votes by antagonising the public with endless traffic nightmares? Or are we simply exposing our own lack of creativity and vision?

If the post-Hasina political climate is to genuinely empower the people, then both established and emerging political forces must understand that the road to reform cannot be paved with blocked streets. We need a new model of political engagement—one that speaks to the people, not over them; one that operates within institutions, not outside traffic laws.

Sketch: TBS

Sadia Aktar Korobi completed her Master's degree at the Department of Peace and Conflict Studies at the University of Dhaka, Bangladesh

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of his employer or The Business Standard.