Published: 01:15 AM, 10 October 2026
Child Sexual Abuse in Madrasas: Time to Break the Silence
Shyful Alam
An educational institution should never be a prison of fear for a child. It should be a safe haven where dreams are nurtured—a place where children can learn with joy, ask questions freely, develop rational thinking and scientific temper and grow into compassionate human beings. A teacher should be someone a child respects and trusts—a figure who provides guidance and a sense of security.
Bangladesh’s education system is diverse, encompassing different streams and institutional traditions. Over the past several years, the expansion of Qawmi madrasas and the growing number of students enrolled in them have generated considerable public discussion. In many areas, Qawmi madrasas have emerged as significant alternatives to government primary schools.
According to a statement made in Parliament by the Education Minister on July 14, 2026, Bangladesh has approximately 25,000 Qawmi madrasas, with around seven million students enrolled in them.
The growing presence of Qawmi madrasas makes it all the more important to ensure that every child studying in these institutions receives not only education but also protection, dignity and a safe learning environment.
While Alia madrasas incorporate general subjects such as mathematics, science and information technology alongside religious studies, the scope of modern science and technology education remains considerably more limited in the conventional Qawmi curriculum. This difference calls for broader discussion about educational reform and ensuring that students in all streams have adequate opportunities to develop the knowledge and skills required in the modern world. But beyond curriculum lies an even more fundamental question: Are our children safe?
When a child walks into an educational institution holding a parent's hand, the child does not carry only books and notebooks. The family’s trust goes with them.
A child often looks at a teacher as an extension of the family—as someone who can protect, guide and care for them. In residential educational institutions, this dependence becomes even deeper. A young child may come to regard a residential madrasa as a second home.
If that supposed second home becomes the place where a child is sexually abused, the very idea of an educational institution as a sanctuary is shattered.
The psychological damage can be profound. The child's sense of security collapses, and the bond of trust between the family and the institution can fall apart like a house of cards.
Reports of sexual abuse of children in madrasas are not new. This does not mean that all madrasas should be viewed through the same lens, nor should an entire educational tradition be condemned because of the alleged crimes of individuals.
Yet a number of recent incidents are deeply concerning. According to statistics of Ain o Salish Kendra (ASK), along with reports published by various media outlets, has highlighted several allegations of sexual abuse involving madrasa students.
In May 2026, a madrasa teacher in Netrakona was arrested following an allegation that he had raped an 11-year-old child. In July, a teacher at a residential madrasa in Boalkhali, Chattogram, was arrested over allegations of sexually abusing an eight-year-old student over an extended period. In the same month, the principal of a madrasa in Lakshmipur was arrested following an allegation of rape of a 12-year-old madrasa student.
Towards the end of August, four teachers and six students were accused in connection with an alleged sexual assault involving a seven-year-old student at a madrasa in Savar, Dhaka.
According to information cited in a recent legal notice, 23 of 39 reported incidents of institutional child sexual abuse in schools, colleges and madrasas during 2024–2025 occurred in madrasas.
The same notice reportedly stated that at least 30 allegations involving rape, sexual abuse, sexual harassment and serious physical cruelty against madrasa teachers, principals and supervisors had been collected from media reports between March 17 and September 5, 2026, covering at least 18 districts.
These figures should not be treated as evidence against madrasa education as a whole. Rather, they should compel us to ask a more important question: Are adequate child-protection mechanisms in place wherever children live and study?
Children may be threatened with religious consequences or intimidation. Some may even be threatened with death. Parents, meanwhile, may hesitate to report abuse because of fear of social stigma, humiliation or damage to the family's reputation.
Some families may also fear that the legal system will fail them. There are cases in which a madrasa authority dismisses an accused teacher in an attempt to protect the institution's reputation. But dismissal alone is not justice.
If an allegation is credible and supported by evidence, it requires proper investigation and appropriate legal action. Otherwise, there is a risk that an accused individual may simply move to another institution and come into contact with another group of vulnerable children.
I have personally come across an experience that left me deeply disturbed. At a madrasa known to me, several incidents of alleged sexual abuse occurred one after another. The institution's mohtamim/head told me that he no longer wished to continue working in madrasas and was considering moving abroad. He said that in every madrasa where he had served, he had encountered incidents of sexual abuse.
This is, of course, a personal experience and cannot be treated as a statistical representation of madrasas as a whole. But it is nevertheless an experience that raises serious questions about the adequacy of institutional child-protection mechanisms.
Every madrasa operating in the country should be brought under an appropriate framework of government oversight and accountability.
Madrasas should have clear and enforceable child-protection policies. During teacher recruitment, institutions should make reasonable efforts to verify whether prospective employees have any documented history of sexual offences or abuse involving children.
There must also be safe, confidential and independent mechanisms through which students can report abuse.
Children should be taught, in language appropriate to their age, that if someone touches them inappropriately, threatens them, harasses them or otherwise makes them feel unsafe, they should tell a trusted adult and seek help. They must be assured that they will not be blamed for speaking out.
Most importantly, children must learn that no religious, institutional or social authority has the right to silence them when their safety is at stake.
In Bangladesh, some individuals may attempt to use religious identity as a shield against accountability. But a crime against a child has no religious identity.
An alleged offender must be judged on the basis of the alleged offence, evidence and law—not clothing, title, religious identity or institutional affiliation.
At the same time, allegations alone cannot be treated as proof of guilt. Every allegation must be investigated fairly, independently and properly, and legal decisions must be based on evidence and due process.
When allegations of sexual abuse arise in madrasas, it would be unjust to hold all madrasas responsible for the alleged crimes of individuals. But it would be equally dangerous to ignore allegations simply because the institution is religious.
The principle must be simple: A child’s safety comes before an institution’s reputation. Whether the institution is a madrasa, school, college or any other educational establishment, there can be no compromise when it comes to protecting children.
A child's cry is more important than an institution's reputation. No institution should be allowed to protect its image at the cost of a child's dignity, safety and future. Protecting children is not merely an institutional responsibility; it is a fundamental responsibility of the state and society.
The time has come to break the culture of silence. Because no reputation is worth more than a child's safety, and no silence is more important than a child's voice.
Shyful Alam is a poet and essayist.
