During the AL’s agitation for a caretaker government in the mid-90s, we carried a picture of AL leader Matia Chowdhury pinned down by the police on the Manik Mia Avenue, in front of Jatiya Sangsad, trying to protect herself from police assault while protesting against the then BNP government. A few years later, we published a photo of Sadeque Hossain Khoka, a BNP leader later to become Mayor of Dhaka, with blood streaming down his forehead after facing a brutal police attack at nearly the same spot. The two photos showing police behaviour at two different junctures of our history when two different parties were in power (namely BNP and AL) tell one single story: how the police, as they are presently used, are not enforcers of law but rather implementers of the politics of the day, including and especially its vengeful aspects.
The above story acquires new relevance as we see how the police are handling the case of the torching of nearly a dozen buses in Dhaka city and how opposition party members are being picked up indiscriminately, even when they were far away from the scene of the occurrence. This paper ran two reports, on November 15 and 19, detailing how people are being indiscriminately arrested or put in wanted lists that include people who are most unlikely to be able to torch buses, either because they are too old, too sick (some have been in hospital during the occurrence) or too far away from the scene of the crime. We can’t say whether BNP was involved or not—it is for the investigation to reveal. We are merely pointing out that the political nature of the arrests is greatly corroding the credibility of the process.
One would perhaps shrug their shoulders and say this is hardly unusual in our part of the world. The question is, why should it be so? Why should it happen at all if we believe in the supremacy of our constitution and the sanctity of our laws? Not only does it continue to happen, we also consider this trend natural and inevitable. This is where the problem begins: our readiness to accept that the police will be a handmaiden of the government and not a protector of the people. Maybe its roots lie in the colonial times. But how long are we going to sing that song? Are we never going to have a modern, neutral and professional police force fully committed to the people, whose taxes pay for their service? Not even now when we are about to celebrate 50 years of our independence?
It has been 30 years since we toppled autocracy, and yet instead of moving forward with a neutral professional police force, we have, in fact, moved backwards. The political use of this essential institution constitutes the central reality of today and it is also perhaps the most important law and order issue. They are now a part of the apparatchik. That law is “blind” is belied by the fact that police look at almost everything wearing politically coloured glasses. Just as they are looked upon as an integral part of ruling-party politics, they too look upon themselves as servants of the party rather than of the public. Otherwise, how can one explain that Officers in Charge (OCs) of police stations routinely refuse to accept citizens’ complaints without ensuring that the complaints are politically koshered?
Today, there is practically no accountability of police behaviour, the most glaring proof of which is that no serious investigation has ever been undertaken for custodial deaths. People have been picked up by individuals claiming to be police from their houses, who later turned up dead in hospitals or whose bodies were discovered lying by the road side, and yet no investigation was done to ascertain how it happened. Routinely, the wrong people are made accused in terrorism, arson and political cases and later released, allegedly after hidden transactions, and yet no question is ever asked.
Another reason behind the impunity of police officers is that the victims of torture are extremely reluctant to file complaints fearing reprisals. Here, the enactment of a victim and witness protection law could serve a useful purpose.
The use made of the police in the last general election and subsequent by-elections, and in suppressing road safety, quota reforms and other movements, shows how police have been made an integral part of the political power structure, which has further removed any possibility of their accountability. What is of further concern is how even laws have been changed to make such police action not only legal but also inevitable. Before, citizens used to be victimised by the misuse of law. Now, they are victimised by its use, done very much by the book.
In making new laws it is generally expected that we follow the spirit of the 17th-century English philosopher and political theorist, John Locke, that “the end of law is not to abolish or restrain but to preserve and enlarge freedom.” Ours are on the opposite trajectory. We have made laws whose clear purpose is to “restrain”, if not “abolish” freedom outright. The Digital Security Act (DSA) is a law that is structured—from beginning to end—to curb freedom of expression. Made in the name of restraining cybercrimes, it has become the very symbol of the most oppressive law that Bangladesh has enacted in the recent past.
Instead of protecting people’s fundamental rights, police are now the preferred instrument for curbing them. The most common feeling among the people is that “I don’t need any protection. Just leave me alone.” For, once drawn into a legal tangle, it usually takes years, if not a lifetime, to see the light at the end of a never-ending legal tunnel. Being left alone, by the law, is the earnest desire of the majority of the citizens.
But that’s not how “laws” were meant to be viewed. They were meant to be embraced, not feared. The story of the shifting of power from the sovereign monarch to the sovereign people is the most edifying and uplifting—and not-so-often-told—story of our civilisation.
Where power should reside, who should exercise it and how, and how its use will be monitored are essential questions that have engaged the best and brightest of minds throughout history, and have triggered struggles between the rulers and the ruled. Bringing power into the hands of the people has been the stuff of most revolutions, ultimately flowering into democracy and, in Abraham Lincoln’s words, into governments “of the people, by the people and for the people.”
With the shrinking democratic space for the people and with law enforcement acquiring a deeper political hue, while enjoying complete impunity for their actions, what is the future of our dream for a pro-people law enforcement? The power, the privilege, the “exceptionality” that they have been made used to will be something they will be reluctant to part with. How the police will turn, if ever, from being pro-party to being a pro-people law enforcement force is a question that only the future can answer.
But it should definitely be one of our immediate goals as we celebrate the 50 years of our independence.
Mahfuz Anam is Editor and Publisher, The Daily Star.
