TBS
On 29 September, Lieutenant General (retd) Jahangir Alam Chowdhury, the home adviser to Bangladesh’s interim government, announced that the government is considering blocking the apps Telegram and Botim.
The justification: these platforms are being used by the banned Awami League to communicate with their exiled leader, Sheikh Hasina, who is currently residing in India and orchestrating violence inside Bangladesh.
Among the 244 activists arrested from recent rallies, 150 were found to be using these two apps to communicate with Sheikh Hasina and join online party meetings.
The irony is stark. Sheikh Hasina’s own government repeatedly weaponised connectivity restrictions, yet failed to maintain control. The memory of using VPNs amid internet restrictions during the July Uprising is still fresh in the minds of many.
But now, the interim government appears to be adopting the same toolkit against her. In both cases, the outcome is likely the same: temporary inconvenience for citizens, limited disruption for the activists, and a net loss of public confidence.
The proposed ban on messaging apps reveals more about political anxieties than about security strategy. It is a symbolic gesture, an attempt to be seen as decisive while avoiding the harder work of governance.
Technologically, it is ineffective; politically, it risks replicating the very authoritarian practices that Bangladeshis rejected in the July Uprising.
The technological illusion of app bans
It is a familiar scene across the globe: governments seeking control over information flows by restricting digital platforms. Bangladesh has seen it repeatedly in recent years.
For instance, Sheikh Hasina’s government slowed mobile networks from 4G to 2G during the 2018 Road Safety Movement, a deliberate act to disable live-streaming and mass coordination.
Similar restrictions returned during episodes of political tension in 2022 and 2023, when BNP was organising mass rallies and political movements. And in July 2024 the regime resorted to a complete internet blackout to no avail; the people overthrew the oppressive regime altogether.
None of these measures achieved their stated purpose. Rather than deterring dissent, they deepened public resentment and intensified efforts to bypass censorship. The same is likely to happen if Telegram and Botim are banned. Users will simply migrate to VPNs, proxies, or alternative apps.
Furthermore, Telegram itself is designed to be resilient against government interference, with features such as proxy servers and cloud-based distribution that make blocking inconsistent. Even if authorities succeed in a temporary shutdown, new applications or encrypted channels will rapidly fill the vacuum.
And, Botim, another messaging app, is used by our migrant workers, mostly in the Middle East. Blocking it would create much hassle for its users.
Dr B M Mainul Hossain, professor and director at the Institute of Information Technology (IIT), University of Dhaka, said, “I do not think the authorities have thought this decision through. When one app is blocked, there is always the risk that many other services will be disrupted as well, because of the intricate and interconnected network of servers on which digital platforms rely.
“We have seen such unintended consequences before — platforms and services unrelated to politics becoming inaccessible, hurting businesses, students, and ordinary citizens who depend on them,” he added.
From a cybersecurity standpoint, blanket app bans are the equivalent of smashing radios to prevent people from listening to unfriendly broadcasts. The assumption that violence can be curtailed by disabling specific communication platforms shows a shallow understanding of how digital ecosystems function.
Across the globe, political organisers always find new digital tools, and often faster than bureaucracies can ban them. In fact, repressive attempts to cut off communication typically accelerate innovation in evasion techniques, leaving the state one step behind.
Rezaur Rahman Lenin, a prominent human rights activist, said, “After the fall of the Hasina regime, the legal and administrative frameworks it had established have not yet been reformed. The laws governing cyberspace were systematically designed to enable structural violence, and this framework was deliberately used to perpetuate crimes against humanity through restrictions on internet freedom and curtailing digital freedom.
“Such attempts to enforce censorship and blocking of online platforms lack legitimate aims, legal safeguards, and consideration of necessity or proportionality. From both a legal and administrative standpoint, these practices serve only to sustain a continuity of crimes against humanity previously seen,” he added.
Global lessons
Bangladesh is not alone in pursuing this kind of digital policing. Iran regularly throttles internet connectivity during protests, yet citizens continue to rely on VPNs, circumvention tools, and encrypted apps.
Russia banned Telegram in 2018, only to quietly lift the restriction two years later because the measure was unenforceable. India, too, frequently shuts down the internet in Kashmir to prevent the news of human rights abuse and state-sponsored oppression of the Kashmiris from coming out.
“We have seen such unintended consequences before — platforms and services unrelated to politics becoming inaccessible, hurting businesses, students, and ordinary citizens who depend on them. The government should not act hastily. It should sit with technology experts, industry representatives, and legal professionals before making such a decision, and work out a viable, proportionate solution that addresses security concerns without punishing the wider public.”
The Turkish government under Erdoğan banned Twitter and YouTube in 2014 to suppress leaks of corruption scandals. Within hours, people bypassed restrictions using VPNs and DNS changes. In fact, the ban became a global embarrassment — graffiti with DNS codes appeared on Istanbul streets, showing citizens how to bypass censorship. It demonstrated how blunt bans often amplify dissent instead of silencing it.
In 2021, after Twitter deleted a tweet by President Buhari, who was threatening the Igbo people, the Nigerian government banned the platform. The ban lasted seven months, but millions of Nigerians simply used VPNs to stay connected. Civil society groups argued it made the government look insecure, not strong.
During political unrest between 2016 and 2020, Ethiopia repeatedly blocked Facebook, Twitter, WhatsApp, and Telegram.
These examples highlight a basic truth: technology bans rarely achieve security goals. At best, they provide a symbolic demonstration of state authority. At worst, they alienate citizens, erode trust, and make the government look insecure.
Populist security theatre
If the technological inefficacy is clear, why pursue such measures at all? The answer lies in political showmanship.
Digital bans are a form of security theatre — measures designed not to solve the problem but to be seen as solving it. They signal toughness against alleged enemies while distracting from the harder and more necessary work of building professional intelligence networks, reforming law enforcement, and pursuing accountability through legal means.
The banned Awami League relied heavily on such tactics in its later years. Rather than addressing institutional failures, it leaned on internet shutdowns, mass arrests, and intimidation. The interim government risks inadvertently strengthening AL’s narrative of persecution by resorting to repressive measures that harm ordinary citizens more than political leaders.
Dr Mainul said, “The government should not act hastily. It should sit with technology experts, industry representatives, and legal professionals before making such a decision, and work out a viable, proportionate solution that addresses security concerns without punishing the wider public.”
Lenin said, “In reality, online spaces are essential for ensuring safety, security, and openness for many people. These rights cannot simply be curtailed through administrative orders without judicial oversight or supplementary legal authority.”
What, then, can be done?
He said, “Legal cases are already ongoing, and these issues can be raised before the courts. Where rights violations are demonstrated, interim judicial orders can be issued. However, shutting down a few apps will not advance the government’s human rights record. On the contrary, it risks pushing the administration backwards, undermining both its legitimacy and its stated commitments to reform.”
If the interim government’s concern is genuinely about preventing Sheikh Hasina or her associates from instigating violence, the remedy lies not in app bans but in effective intelligence and legal measures. If the government is serious about preventing violence and ensuring a stable transition, it must abandon such cosmetic measures, which have been proven as futile.