Why Rising Crime Demands a Deeper Reckoning

 

Bangladesh is currently grappling with a worrying surge in criminal activity that has thrust public safety to the forefront of national debate. Particularly in the capital city of Dhaka, reports of robbery, mugging, extortion, and violent attacks have become disturbingly frequent, leaving citizens feeling apprehensive about venturing outdoors. Although Dhaka has long contended with crime in certain neighborhoods, the present wave feels both more intense and more indiscriminate. Individuals are targeted on busy thoroughfares as well as near their own doorsteps, sparking widespread calls for meaningful governmental intervention. Community forums and social media feeds are replete with stories of friends, colleagues, and even family members who have encountered robbery or physical harm at various hours of the day. The gloom pervading the city has prompted a collective cry for action, with many Bangladeshis wondering how a caretaker government that once pledged reform could allow public security to deteriorate so rapidly.

Outside Dhaka, the situation is no less unsettling. Provincial towns and rural enclaves—once presumed to be relatively peaceful—have also seen an uptick in robberies, burglaries, and sometimes violent clashes. Investigative journalists and local media outlets are increasingly reporting that organized criminal networks appear emboldened, operating with impunity in certain regions. Several factors are believed to fuel this nationwide rise in crime, including high unemployment rates, resource shortages within law enforcement agencies, and a lack of consistent political oversight. Critics contend that even large-scale policing operations—such as the much-publicized Operation Devil Hunt, which purportedly led to over 8,600 arrests—have done little to quell criminal activities in the long run. Instead, the appearance of mass roundups has largely shifted public focus away from deeper structural problems and onto daily reports of continued violence.

The frustration of ordinary citizens is now directed squarely at the caretaker administration and, more specifically, at Home Adviser Jahangir Alam Chowdhury. Not long ago, Bangladeshis had harbored genuine hopes for decisive leadership from this interim government, which replaced an ousted regime amid promises of improved governance and a clampdown on corruption. However, evidence of progress on public safety remains elusive. Crime statistics suggest a steady climb in violent theft and assault, and newly emboldened criminals appear unconcerned about possible repercussions. In Dhaka University, where large demonstrations have become a frequent sight, students are demanding answers and accountability from the caretaker officials who vowed to restore order but now seem woefully unprepared to do so. The sense of betrayal among the public is palpable, considering the caretaker government’s early commitment to building trust and transparency.

A recent wave of outrage was sparked on a Sunday night, when multiple violent crimes took place across Dhaka in quick succession. One of the most disturbing incidents involved a 43-year-old jewellery shop owner who was shot in both legs outside his residence. The cruelty of this assault, occurring right at his own front door, has underscored a chilling fact: no place in the city feels immune to the rising tide of violence. Elsewhere, two women were robbed on a rickshaw soon after midnight, and video footage of the crime went viral on social media. These brazen attacks have magnified the public’s alarm, further eroding faith that the city’s law enforcers can deliver the protection residents desperately need.

In an extraordinary move, Home Adviser Chowdhury responded to these events by holding a press conference at three in the morning on a Monday. Although a press briefing at such an hour might have signaled an urgent policy overhaul, the actual announcement carried little substance. Chowdhury insisted that security had improved under his watch—despite the stark evidence to the contrary—while attributing the deterioration of public order to “cohorts of the ousted Awami League.” Although it is plausible that certain political groups may be exploiting unrest, the adviser’s middle-of-the-night statements sounded less like a well-documented plan and more like an attempt to deflect accountability. This reaction has only fueled the anger of protestors, who find themselves increasingly convinced that those in power are unwilling or unable to confront the crisis head-on.

The outcry has manifested in university marches, sit-ins, and public rallies calling for Chowdhury’s resignation. Students and activists argue that the government’s promises of transparency and accountability have evaporated, replaced by vague rhetoric and political blame games. Illustrating the chasm between the administration’s narrative and the public’s lived experience, demonstrators at Dhaka University carried signs pointing to ongoing crimes that remain unsolved, and they condemned the caretaker team for failing to articulate a viable plan. Even an attempt to march on the home ministry was thwarted by the police, prompting the protestors to occupy the space in front of Shikkha Bhaban, a potent image of civic frustration pitted against institutional authority.

Beyond its immediate human cost, the current crime crisis also has deeper implications for Bangladesh’s social contract and economic trajectory. Any government, caretaker or otherwise, is beholden to the principle that citizens surrender certain freedoms in return for collective protection and order. When that contract is shattered by rampant criminality, it erodes societal trust. Moreover, Bangladesh has been working to boost its image on the global stage, attracting foreign investment and fostering its nascent tourism sector. Heightened insecurity undermines these ambitions, as investors question whether the country can guarantee the stability required for business operations. In a nation striving to diversify exports beyond ready-made garments, the growing specter of violence is an unwelcome barrier.

The caretaker government therefore faces a pivotal test, one that demands comprehensive reform rather than short-term fixes. In the immediate term, law enforcers need better training, modern surveillance equipment, and more resources for investigative work. Sweeping arrests may remove some criminal elements from the streets, but such blunt tactics rarely address the roots of persistent crime. Socioeconomic initiatives that create jobs, expand educational opportunities, and ensure youth engagement can significantly reduce the pressure that pushes individuals toward illicit activities. At the political level, if certain factions indeed exploit violence to destabilize the caretaker regime, the administration must collaborate with stakeholders to expose these networks and prevent further infiltration. Relying solely on insinuations without evidence risks turning a genuine security crisis into a political sideshow.

For his part, Home Adviser Chowdhury needs to shift from deflection to genuine leadership. Meeting the public’s legitimate grievances with candor and actionable plans would represent a serious step toward winning back trust. He should consider holding detailed briefings during regular hours, where law enforcement officials and policy experts can jointly present their roadmaps. Creating space for public feedback—perhaps through civic forums or digital platforms—would also help align the government’s strategies with citizens’ urgent concerns. A caretaker administration is, by nature, temporary, but it is precisely this brevity that should compel it to move swiftly and decisively on the issues that matter most.

Bangladesh has a resilient spirit, having weathered historical hardships from natural disasters to protracted political strife. Yet resilience alone cannot be an excuse for complacency. The current crime wave tears at the fabric of everyday life, diminishing the sense of hope and progress that many have painstakingly nurtured. Every new incident of violence, shared widely on social media, chips away at the belief that security can be reclaimed without radical change in governance and policing.

Ultimately, preventing further deterioration of the law and order situation will require a collaborative effort spanning government, civil society, local communities, and international partners. Robust community policing initiatives can harness local knowledge to detect suspicious activities before they spiral into violence. Independent oversight committees, possibly involving human rights organizations, could monitor police conduct and provide accountability for any abuses during heightened enforcement drives. Economic reforms that address income inequality might reduce the desperation that fuels certain kinds of crime. Taken together, these reforms could restore public faith in the caretaker government’s ability to steer Bangladesh through a tumultuous moment.

At a deeper philosophical level, the crisis confronts the country with a timeless question: how can a society balance individual freedoms with collective security? If a man can be shot on his own doorstep, if two women can be robbed on a rickshaw just past midnight, then the state’s protective mantle is clearly frayed. Reweaving that mantle will test every dimension of leadership, including moral courage, administrative efficiency, and a willingness to confront entrenched power structures. Should the caretaker government rise to the occasion, it might still salvage its reputation and stabilize a restless nation. Failure, however, could plunge Bangladesh into an even darker chapter, where insecurity and mistrust become the prevailing norms. Only swift, transparent, and concerted action can avert that fate, rekindling hope in a populace yearning to believe in better days ahead.


Pranto Chatterjee is a former
ICCR Scholar and a postgraduate
student in Autonomous Vehicle Engineering at the University of
Naples Federico II, Italy.