On the evening of July 18, 2024, a seemingly ordinary day turned into an unforgettable nightmare for me and countless others with ties to Bangladesh. Living abroad, the internet has always been my lifeline, a bridge connecting me to my family, friends, and the vibrant culture of my homeland. That bridge was abruptly severed at 8:30 PM local time, when a total internet blackout descended on Bangladesh, plunging the country into a digital silence that left us all in the dark.
The blackout came amid escalating student protests against the country's controversial quota system, which reserves a significant portion of government jobs for the descendants of veterans who fought for Bangladesh's independence in 1971. The situation had turned violent, with reports of paramilitary forces attacking students and at least 32 people losing their lives. The chaos reached a peak when protestors in Dhaka stormed the state broadcaster BTV, causing significant damage and trapping many inside. In response, the government decided to shut down the internet and phone access nationwide, a tactic increasingly used in South Asia to control unrest.
A Desperate Search for Information
As a Bangladeshi living abroad, the internet is more than just a tool; it's an essential part of my daily life. It's how I stay informed, how I share moments with my loved ones, and how I maintain a sense of community despite the physical distance. When the blackout occurred, I was at work. One moment I was focused on my tasks, and the next, an unsettling realization dawned on me as I couldn't access any news or updates from home. I tried calling my family, sending messages, refreshing social media pages—nothing worked. The silence was deafening.
In the following hours, I scoured the internet for news, hoping to find out what was happening back home. International news outlets like Al Jazeera and AFP reported on the violence and the government's drastic measures, but details were sparse and often conflicting. I turned to NetBlocks, a global internet monitor, which confirmed that Bangladesh was experiencing a "near-total national internet shutdown." This news, while providing some clarity, also brought a profound sense of helplessness.
I had no idea what was happening in Bangladesh. Conflicting reports only heightened my anxiety.
Some sources claimed that police and government-aligned forces were still shooting people in the streets, even raiding houses and shooting residents. Others suggested that people were mostly staying home with police patrolling the streets. The last I heard, APCs had rolled out on Thursday morning, and there was a chilling video of a vehicle moving through the street with the fresh body of a protester lying on its top. I had no idea where this situation would end up. It was hard to process this because it felt like a historical event.
In Bangladesh, Facebook is the main form of online communication. I checked my Facebook feed constantly since the blackout began. Every post from my friends and family in Bangladesh showed a timestamp of 12-15 hours ago. Chat threads with dozens of people I talked to, some of them every day, were now silent. The eerie quietness of these once-busy conversations added to my growing sense of dread.
In a desperate attempt to reach my loved ones, I started calling mutual friends and acquaintances who might still have some form of contact. WhatsApp messages went unanswered, and phone calls failed to connect. I emailed friends in neighboring countries, hoping they might have news, but they too were in the dark. The realization that a significant part of the world could just vanish from the digital landscape was both surreal and terrifying.
I went through the stages of grief in record time. Anger, in particular, was overwhelming.
I felt angry at the rest of the world, at my coworkers, and at the non-Bangladeshi content creators and pages I follow because they just kept going on as if everything was normal. But for me, the world was spinning out of control. For the first time, I thought I understood a fraction of what expats from war-torn countries like Palestine and Syria must feel when they see the world going on as normal while their own world felt like it was ending.
Voices of Solidarity
In the absence of direct communication, I turned to online discussion forums where many Non-Resident Bangladeshis (NRBs) were sharing their frustrations and fears. In one thread, users were spreading awareness by sharing a Google Drive link containing images and videos from recent events, urging others to contact international media outlets to bring attention to the situation. This collective effort to document and broadcast the truth was both heartening and indicative of the dire need for global attention.
Several users reported their attempts to reach out to news organizations, with mixed success. Some mentioned getting blocked for spamming, while others managed to send emails.
The dedication to making sure the world knew what was happening in Bangladesh highlighted the determination and resilience of the diaspora community. However, the frustration was palpable, especially as many faced communication difficulties due to the internet shutdown. VPNs were suggested as a workaround, but their effectiveness was in question given the severity of the blackout. Reports indicated that mobile internet was completely off, with broadband being unstable.
The thread also reflected a range of emotional responses. There was a noticeable disappointment in the perceived lack of empathy from Western countries, contrasting with more supportive views from users in Canada and the US. This divide in international reactions added to the sense of isolation and frustration felt by those trying to raise awareness about the crisis. Despite this, some commenters remained hopeful that the international community would eventually respond.
Personal experiences shared by users were heart-wrenching. Many recounted their efforts to contact loved ones, with some succeeding in making international calls, albeit with poor quality or limited success. The emotional toll of these fragmented connections was evident, as users expressed their fears and anxieties for their families' safety.
In a surprising show of solidarity, a user from Pakistan expressed support for Bangladeshis, offering prayers and encouragement despite the historical tensions between the two nations. This gesture underscored the universal nature of human empathy in times of crisis, transcending political and historical divides.
The discussion was governed by community rules emphasizing civility, accurate representation of content, and the importance of source verification. This helped maintain a constructive and respectful environment despite the charged emotions.
Despite the fear and uncertainty, there was also a sense of solidarity among the Bangladeshi community abroad. We supported each other, shared information, and tried to stay hopeful. Gradually, bits of news trickled in through international channels. Some friends managed to send brief messages when connectivity was temporarily restored. These small moments of contact were incredibly reassuring, reminding me that even in the darkest times, the human spirit finds a way to connect.
What Lies Ahead?
As the day comes to an end, I am trying to move on with my life and do my part as a Bangladeshi, but the eerie feeling remains.
Some people are comparing this day of blackout to the infamous March 25, 1971, a night that marked the beginning of the Bangladesh Liberation War. On that night, the Pakistani military launched a brutal crackdown on Dhaka, targeting students, intellectuals, and ordinary citizens in an attempt to quell the growing independence movement. The parallels between that dark chapter of our history and the current situation are chilling, leaving many of us wondering where our country can go from here.
For now, I can only wait. And I don't know whether the fact that I left Bangladesh before this happened is a blessing or a curse. The sense of helplessness is overwhelming, but I remain hopeful that things will improve, that the voices of the Bangladeshi people will be heard, and that justice and peace will prevail.
