In the last few weeks, we have been watching with great interest as the big names in Sheikh Hasina's cabinet and key frontline political arms such as the MPs, Chhatra League members, and various police and civil servants get "caught" one after another. Memes, jokes, commentaries are ablaze, filling our social media feeds and accelerated through algorithms. Even in the midst of one of the worst floods in Bangladesh's history, arrest dramas are taking place. The fanfare of it all is understandable; after 15 long years of a systematic crackdown on the right to speech, expression, assembly, liberty and in many instances, the right to life, aggrieved families and friends are entitled to seeing karmic justice play out. These euphoric moments are important, almost critical in coming to terms with the trauma inflicted upon families across the country.

But once the dust settles, the difficult tasks come to light—that morality and legality are not always the same thing. Rather, in most instances, they are at opposing poles of philosophical debates and pragmatic applications. What is happening in Bangladesh currently is a carnival for the masses, to fan the fires, to give them the entertainment they have been craving for a long time. But as things proceed this way, the interim government is at risk of losing the legal plot. While there is a general sense of who the "bad guys" are, morality alone cannot put anyone behind bars, bring back the money syphoned out of the country, ensure redress or accountability, nor deliver justice for the lives taken. The government already seems to be on a slippery slope and they have not even climbed to base camp yet.

The arrests happened with the likes of Zunaid Ahmed Palak, Hasan Mahmud, and of course the Aynaghar-connected Maj Gen (retd) Ziaul Ahsan—political actors who had direct hand in the telecommunication blackout, firing the propaganda machinery, and forced disappearances. But there have also been too many incidents with their arrest stories—how they got caught, where they got caught, who was in army custody, how were they handed over to the police, and in the case of Maj Gen Zia, him escaping twice, raising many questions on the extent of corruption within law enforcement. All this unnecessary political drama only demonstrates the utter chaos that was the first couple of weeks of the interim government. But the Super Bowl half-time entertainment equivalent a few weeks ago was that of the alleged capture of former Adviser to PM Salman F Rahman and former Law Minister Anisul Huq. Clad in twin Polo shirts and lungis, making them appear somewhat as the proverbial "Alal o Dulal," the two were allegedly apprehended at Sadarghat while trying to flee on a trawler. At first glance, the scenes in the photos scream that of "divine justice," of a David and Goliath story of "how the mighty have fallen." And of course, the memes ensued—"Upor diye fitfat, niche diye Sadarghat"—begging the question: is law enforcement directed by the law or by meme culture? Salman F Rahman, considered to be the godfather of godfathers, usually referred to as "Dorbesh," because of his priest-like outlook with the white beard and hair, was seen to have shaven off the signature beard and coloured his hair. Anisul Huq just looked bored and annoyed to be part of whatever all this was supposed to be.

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In no time whispers travelled from one WhatsApp group to another that this particular "trawler trouble" was staged, to humiliate these AL bigshots who, only two months ago, went about with an air of utter invincibility. Within hours of the photos emerging, various social media and journalist groups stated how these photos (and other arrest stories) were staged, and that all the top brass of AL were picked up days ago and kept in various army-supported safe houses. Then the question is: why the drama, why the show?

The political drama continued as Huq and Rahman were taken to court under heavy protection, wearing helmets and bullet-proof jackets, where a lawyer (who died later that day in a road accident on the Padma Bridge) threw an egg at the former law minister and they were denied their legal representation. They were charged with a murder case, of which much of what is being said about their involvement with the murder would legally be considered speculative. Pro-BNP lawyers did not allow Huq and Rahman's defence teams to have a say in court or to make any submission for them.

But then these stories have taken a rather sinister turn with the recent arrests, as unfounded murder allegations are being connected to the likes of former Education Minister Dipu Moni and national cricket sensation turned AL MP, Shakib Al Hasan. Moreover, rather disturbing videos have emerged of former Justice AHM Shamsuddin Chowdhury Manik being arrested, tied in some jungle, and now in critical health conditions. It is impossible to believe that either Dipu Moni or Shakib Al Hasan would be connected to murders.

Let us not forget that the justice system is not for law enforcement to clean its image, nor is it for the interim government members (and BNP-walas) who were done wrong or victimised by the previous government to get their kicks, and nor is it for public entertainment in today's reality TV of "The Nouka Sinking Story." Coming up with made-up cases with no or falsified FIRs, dressing people in costumes and denying legal representation are not only farcical but a mockery and insult of the judiciary system. These are the same cheap tactics and parlour tricks that previous political governments carried out that were then overturned, or worse, became fodder for generational vengeance. The current interim government seems no different, which begs the question: have we as a nation become one thoughtless mob that thrives on parlour tricks and dramas? That even if the interim government advisers are not giving direct orders, those at the mid-level decision-making are more interested in giving the crowd their pound of flesh, rather than upholding law and justice?

Everyone wants dramatic statements and some advisers have made populist comments, which they may soon come to regret. A very competent press secretary has been appointed; maybe his office can take over the daily dramatic statement sessions for the masses while the advisers get to work. Work that involves making difficult decisions: for example, even if we are morally against some of the former AL powerhouses, if they are to be held legally accountable, they must have their fair day in court. We tend to forget history very easily but in 1990, General Ershad, too, was overthrown by students and common people and extensive corruption and criminal charges were brought against him that were battled out in the courts for ages. This is not to say that Ershad's case was not tainted with dealings and negotiations, but there were strategic procedures carried out to prosecute the former dictator and convict him on some accounts of his wrongdoings. Finding evidence, organising cases, navigating legal and administrative processes take time and patience; time we have, but not patience. We have examples from the past that can be applied today, but the question is with the interim government and its spectators: are we here for Lady Justice to do her long arduous work, or are we here to watch a quick and bloody Gladiator show?

*The author's name has been changed for privacy reasons.

Sifath Ali is a social scientist.

Views expressed in this article are the author's own. 

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