A Nobel laureate, a broken record, and Britain’s responsibility
Bangladesh is not an ordinary postcolonial state, and Britain cannot pretend to be a neutral observer of its trajectory. Bangladesh was born in blood. In 1971, up to three million people were killed, millions were forced into exile as refugees, and more than 400,000 women were systematically raped during the Liberation War. This genocide — conducted by the Pakistani military with the assistance of local collaborators and Islamist militias from the radical Jamaat-e-Islami movement - is not a historical footnote. It is the moral foundation of the modern Bangladeshi republic.
Yet under the interim administration led by Muhammad Yunus, there is growing unease that this foundational legacy is being eroded. Not through crude denial, but through selective justice, historical revisionism, and the quiet rehabilitation of actors and narratives once held morally beyond the pale. In the language of reform and reconciliation, the clarity of 1971 is being blurred - and with it, the state’s moral compass.
These concerns, voiced by respected legal and human rights institutions, should inspire policymakers and advocates to demand greater international oversight of Bangladesh's justice system.
The International Bar Association’s Human Rights Institute (IBAHRI), under the leadership of Helena Kennedy KC, recently issued a stark warning to the Yunus-led administration. IBAHRI urged Bangladesh to adhere to international standards on fair trial, due process, and judicial independence, raising concerns about politically motivated prosecutions, intimidation of defence lawyers, and the misuse of judicial mechanisms.
Kennedy’s intervention was notable for its clarity: ‘It is deeply troubling to see the justice system in Bangladesh misused to advance unfair and at times, politically motivated trials. Every trial is a test of a state’s commitment to justice and human rights – especially where allegations of serious international crimes are involved.’
At the centre of these concerns sits the International Crimes Tribunal of Bangladesh (ICTB). Established to prosecute the atrocities of 1971, the tribunal once symbolised the republic’s moral reckoning. Today, that symbolism is under strain. The ICTB is increasingly criticised by observers who argue it is being steered by legal networks sympathetic to radical Islamists. This development risks reopening unresolved battles over the moral accounting of the Liberation War.
What was meant to preserve historical accountability now risks becoming a vehicle for political intimidation and historical vandalism.
The most troubling illustration of this trend is the pursuit of Tulip Siddiq, a sitting British Member of Parliament.
That the Yunus administration should target an elected UK legislator through the machinery of the Bangladeshi state is extraordinary. The case raises serious questions about proportionality, due process, and political motivation, echoing precisely the concerns articulated by IBAHRI.
This is not a routine legal dispute. It represents a transnational extension of domestic political conflict and a breach of diplomatic restraint. It also exposes a deeper contradiction: why is an unelected interim administration, ostensibly tasked with stabilisation and reform, expending political capital on pursuing a foreign parliamentarian?
The answer appears less about justice than about signal and spectacle. Tulip Siddiq is the niece of Sheikh Hasina, the deposed former leader of Bangladesh. That is not a crime.
IBAHRI is not alone. Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have both written directly to Muhammad Yunus, warning that his administration is making grave errors that risk undermining Bangladesh’s legal institutions, civil liberties, and international standing.
A major joint letter dated in March this year, signed by Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and other organisations, cautioned that the interim authorities were conflating accountability with reprisal and reform with retribution. Subsequent interventions have echoed the same concern: that the Yunus administration is entrenching new forms of repression rather than dismantling old ones.
These are not marginal voices. They represent the mainstream of global human rights advocacy. When such organisations converge in their warnings, it signals a systemic problem, not an isolated misstep.
Against this backdrop, it is increasingly discussed within Western diplomatic and policy circles that Muhammad Yunus is positioning himself for a future bid to become Secretary-General of the United Nations. What was once confined to private conversations has begun to surface more openly within transatlantic legal, corporate, and diplomatic networks.
The timing is striking. As international concern mounts over Yunus’s domestic record, his moral capital is being repackaged for global consumption: the Nobel laureate, the social entrepreneur, the statesman above politics. These narratives are being amplified even as realities inside Bangladesh grow more troubling.
This is not reform. It is moral laundering.
The United Nations cannot afford such contradictions at its helm. The Secretary-General is not merely an administrator or mediator, but a custodian of international law, human rights, and historical truth.
Recently, the UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention concluded that the detention of Bangladeshi children’s writer and human rights defender Shahriar Kabir was arbitrary and unlawful, citing the absence of a legal basis, violations of due process, and the use of detention to punish the exercise of freedom of expression.
A record that includes a formal finding by a UN human rights mechanism of arbitrary detention and political intimidation is not merely reputationally damaging — it is fundamentally incompatible with eligibility for leadership within the United Nations itself.
A figure associated with selective justice, judicial intimidation, and the dilution of genocide memory cannot credibly pursue a UN leadership role, as it undermines the integrity of international institutions. Rising global concern over Yunus’s blend of reformist rhetoric and revenge politics should disqualify him from serious consideration.
Bangladesh’s interim period was meant to stabilise the nation and restore trust. Instead, it risks exporting its internal fractures onto the global stage, threatening to erode the moral foundation built on the memory of genocide and justice.
A nation born through genocide cannot afford historical amnesia. Britain — with its legal traditions, diplomatic reach, and historical ties — must be vigilant and deliberate in whom it legitimises, ensuring support for justice and truth rather than political expediency.
Chris Blackburn is Communications Director at the European Bangladesh Forum.
