As someone living abroad and watching the events unfolding in Bangladesh, I often find myself grappling with a deep sense of frustration. The recent dissolution of the textbook revision committee, in response to complaints about one of its members—a professor who openly supports LGBTQ+ rights—feels like a poignant reminder of how much space for liberal thought is shrinking in my homeland. In a country that fought so hard for independence, for the freedom to choose its own path, it is disheartening to witness this steady erosion of values that I hold dear.
The question that haunts me and many others is: Should liberals just give up on Bangladesh? Is it time to accept that progressive ideals are simply incompatible with the direction our society is heading?
The Shifting Tide of Intolerance
Over the years, I have witnessed a shift within my own circle of friends, colleagues, and family members—people I once admired for their intellectual rigor and openness to diverse perspectives.
These are educated, well-traveled individuals who, at one point, advocated for equality, tolerance, and inclusivity. Yet today, many of them have embraced a more rigid, exclusionary worldview, rejecting LGBTQ+ rights, advocating for discriminatory policies, and even pushing for the marginalization of non-Muslim minorities like the indigenous people in the Chittagong Hill Tracts.
The turning point seemed gradual, almost imperceptible at first. But over time, the shift became undeniable. People who once stood against discrimination now speak of preserving "traditional values," which often seems to be code for rejecting anything outside a narrow interpretation of Islam and Bengali nationalism.
They have become vocal opponents of LGBTQ+ rights, dismissing the community as "un-Islamic" and "Western imports." Worse still, many of these same individuals advocate for policies that would further marginalize religious minorities, such as Hindus and indigenous groups, as if their very existence poses a threat to the fabric of our society.
This shift is not just happening in private conversations or online discussions. It is seeping into public policy, as seen in the textbook committee controversy. The committee was tasked with revising the national curriculum, but when it became clear that one of its members, Samina Luthfa, supported LGBTQ+ rights, religious groups mounted a campaign to have her removed. The interim government, instead of standing firm in defense of academic freedom and inclusivity, chose to dissolve the entire committee, citing "confusion" over its role. But the message was clear: if you advocate for progressive values, you will be silenced.
The Cost of Appeasement
This is not an isolated incident. It is part of a broader pattern of appeasement that has been unfolding in Bangladesh for years. Religious hardliners, emboldened by their growing influence, have been able to dictate the terms of public discourse and policy, often at the expense of minority groups and progressive voices.
In 2017, under pressure from madrasa-based organizations, the government removed content from school textbooks that was deemed "controversial." These changes were not driven by a desire to improve education but by the need to placate religious factions that wield significant political power.
The textbook committee’s dissolution is just the latest example of this appeasement. It reflects a growing willingness among policymakers to capitulate to the demands of conservative forces, even when it comes at the cost of academic integrity and inclusivity.
This willingness to bend to the will of the majority—or at least the loudest voices—raises a troubling question for those of us who believe in liberal values: Is there still room for our ideas in Bangladesh?
The answer, for many, seems to be no. Liberal voices are increasingly being sidelined, not just by the government but by society as a whole. We are a minority, and in a democracy where numbers often determine influence, it is easy to feel as though our views don’t matter. But should they?
Democracy is Not Just About Majorities
In a true democracy, the protection of human rights should not be contingent on majority approval. Democracy is not just about the tyranny of numbers; it is also about safeguarding the rights of those who may not have the numbers on their side.
The rights of LGBTQ+ individuals, religious minorities, and ethnic groups like the indigenous people of the Chittagong Hill Tracts should not be up for debate simply because they are not the majority. Their rights are inherent, inalienable, and deserving of protection.
Yet, in Bangladesh, we are seeing a disturbing trend toward majoritarianism. There is a growing belief that the will of the majority should dictate policy, even when it comes at the expense of minority rights. This is evident in the way religious groups have been able to exert their influence over education policy, as well as in the broader societal push to marginalize LGBTQ+ people and non-Muslim communities.
Take the indigenous people of the Chittagong Hill Tracts, for example. For decades, they have faced systemic discrimination, land grabs, and cultural erasure. Their struggle is largely ignored by mainstream Bangladeshi society because they are a minority, both ethnically and religiously. The same is true for the Hindu community, which has faced violence, harassment, and the destruction of temples with alarming regularity. These are not isolated incidents; they are part of a broader pattern of exclusion that is becoming increasingly normalized in Bangladesh.
As liberals, we have a responsibility to fight for these communities, even when it feels like we are fighting an uphill battle. We cannot abandon the queer community, the indigenous people, or religious minorities. If anything, the growing hostility towards these groups should strengthen our resolve to advocate for their rights.
If we give up now, we are essentially conceding that Bangladesh is a place where only certain voices, certain identities, are valued.
The Role of Advocates Like Manzur Al Matin
Amid this growing hostility, voices like that of Manzur Al Matin stand out as beacons of hope. Matin, a Supreme Court lawyer and television anchor, has long been a vocal supporter of LGBTQ+ rights in Bangladesh. Despite the backlash he has faced from conservative groups, Matin continues to advocate for a more inclusive Bangladesh, one where people of all faiths, beliefs, and identities can coexist peacefully.
In a recent statement, Matin highlighted the importance of building a Bangladesh where everyone can express their beliefs without fear of repression. He argued that the fight against fascism and oppression must include standing up for the rights of marginalized groups, including LGBTQ+ individuals and indigenous communities. For Matin, advocating for LGBTQ+ rights does not mean undermining Islam or Bengali culture, but rather protecting the basic human rights that should be afforded to every citizen, regardless of their identity.
Matin’s perspective is deeply rooted in the principles of equality and justice. He frequently cites religious texts like the Quran and the Bible to emphasize that judgment and discrimination are not the responsibilities of individuals, but rather of a higher power.
For him, the role of the state is to ensure that every citizen has the right to live according to their beliefs, as long as they do not harm others. His advocacy reminds us that religious and cultural diversity is a strength, not a threat, and that Bangladesh’s future depends on embracing, not rejecting, this diversity.
Incorporating figures like Matin into the conversation strengthens the argument that Bangladesh can still be a place where progressive values thrive. While it is tempting to feel disillusioned in the face of rising conservatism, Matin and others like him are proof that the fight for equality and human rights is far from over.
The Legacy of the July-August Movement
Despite the challenges, I cannot bring myself to give up hope. The July-August movement, which led to the fall of the Awami League government, was a powerful reminder of the potential for change when people unite for a common cause. It was a moment of rare unity, where people from different ideological backgrounds came together to demand an end to autocracy. For a brief time, it seemed as though Bangladesh was on the verge of a new era, one where pluralism and inclusivity could take root.
I remember seeing images of female students, dressed in t-shirts, working side by side with madrasa students in traditional attire to manage traffic on the streets of Dhaka after the police retreated. It was a remarkable sight, one that gave me hope that perhaps the old divisions—gender, religion, ideology—could be bridged.
For a moment, it seemed as though we were finally moving toward the Bangladesh that so many of us had dreamed of: a country where people of different backgrounds could coexist in peace and mutual respect.
But that moment of unity was fleeting. In the weeks since the movement, cracks have begun to appear.
Religious hardliners, emboldened by their success in forcing the dissolution of the textbook committee, are once again pushing for policies that marginalize women and minorities. Attacks on women for their choice of dress have become more frequent, and the rhetoric against religious and ethnic minorities has grown more toxic.
Moving Forward: The Liberal Struggle
So, should liberals give up on Bangladesh? Absolutely not. Yes, we are a minority, and yes, the forces arrayed against us are formidable. But that does not mean we should abandon our ideals. If anything, the challenges we face make it even more important for us to stand firm in our commitment to human rights, equality, and justice.
The fight for a more inclusive Bangladesh will not be won overnight. It will require patience, perseverance, and the courage to stand up for what is right, even when it feels like the odds are stacked against us. But I believe that change is possible. Bangladesh has faced many challenges in its short history, and each time, it has emerged stronger. I believe that we can emerge stronger from this moment as well, but only if we continue.
Liberalism may not be the majority view in Bangladesh today, but that does not mean it is without value. In a democracy, the protection of the marginalized, the defense of minority rights, and the promotion of inclusivity are all essential to building a just and equitable society.
These are the values that I believe in, and these are the values that I will continue to fight for—no matter how difficult the struggle may be.
Because if we give up now, who will stand up for those who have no voice? Who will fight for the rights of the marginalized, the oppressed, and the excluded? We cannot abandon them. We cannot abandon Bangladesh.
