The architectonics of mob violence in Bangladesh
Mob violence has become one of the most pressing challenges confronting Bangladesh since the ouster of Sheikh Hasina's authoritarian government. The collapse of her iron grip, once held together through coercion, patronage, and a politicised security apparatus, has not translated into institutional stability. Rather, the vacuum has been filled with volatile eruptions of mob anger, pointing less to isolated law-and-order failures than to a deeper structural malaise embedded in the country's political, social, and governance fabric.
At first glance, mobs appear as spontaneous, combustible gatherings—neighbours, strangers, onlookers suddenly transforming into perpetrators of violence. Yet beneath this spectacle lies a complex architectonic of rage, frustration, and dispossession. Crowds become mobs not simply out of irrational frenzy but through a convergence of unresolved grievances, weakened state authority, and decades of systemic impunity. The collapse of credible justice mechanisms and accountability structures has habituated citizens to taking matters into their own hands when possible, blurring the boundary between community defence and collective lawlessness.
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel. Law enforcement's role in this configuration is crucial. For years under Hasina, the police were weaponised to protect regime interests rather than the public good. Arbitrary arrests, enforced disappearances, and partisan policing corroded public trust in the force. In the current interim dispensation, the police remain demoralised, under-resourced, and often inert, even after the passing of a year since the uprising. Citizens, too, continue to have little expectation of justice from them. Thus, law enforcement is both largely absent and complicit in this scenario: absent in preventing mob flare-ups, complicit in having created the culture of impunity that fuels them.
The civil bureaucracy, similarly, has shown inertia at a moment when nimbleness and credibility are required. Bureaucrats, long accustomed to following the dictates of political masters rather than serving the public, now operate in a fog of uncertainty. The interim government, lacking a direct electoral mandate, cannot yet command the kind of accountability structures necessary to restore confidence. Governance drifts, and in the drift, mobs flourish.
Youth gangs warrant special attention in this equation. They are not the prime movers of mob violence but rather a symptom of broader dislocation. Many of these groups emerged during the Awami League years, nurtured through patronage politics, and tolerated as muscle for electoral dominance. Deprived of political sponsorship in the post-Hasina vacuum, they now reappear as free-floating agents of disorder. Their presence highlights the blurred line between politics, criminality, and mob behaviour in Bangladesh's urban and rural spaces. To treat them as the "cause" of mob violence would be a misdiagnosis; they are better understood as symptoms of a deeper breakdown in governance, justice, and political accountability.
The psychology of the crowd adds yet another layer. Individuals, once submerged in the anonymity of the mob, undergo a transformation: responsibility diffuses, moral inhibitions dissolve, and violence becomes not just possible but contagious. This contagion is intensified by an environment of generalised distrust—distrust of the police, the courts, the bureaucrats, and the political elites. The mob, for all its destructiveness, paradoxically becomes the only arena where these individuals feel a fleeting sense of empowerment.
But this pattern is not merely sociological; it is political, and also neuropsychological. The absence of an elected government has created a profound accountability deficit. The interim authority, by definition temporary, cannot claim to embody the sovereignty of the people. Its legitimacy rests on its ability to prepare the ground for a free and fair election, yet its day-to-day governance is constantly undermined by that very temporariness. In this fragile space, the dynamics of crowd psychology unfold with dangerous intensity.
Neuroscience shows that under conditions of mass hysteria, the amygdala—the brain's fear and aggression centre—becomes hyper-activated, while the regulating functions of the cerebral cortex, which ordinarily mediate judgement and restraint, are diminished. In such a state, reason recedes, and primal impulses surge unchecked. Mobs thrive in the interstices of this transitional moment not only because institutions are weak but also because individuals, swept into collective frenzy, undergo a neurological shift that lowers inhibitions and amplifies aggression. In the absence of political actors capable of channelling discontent into democratic expression, this volatile fusion of structural instability and neuropsychological susceptibility turns the street into the most immediate outlet of power.
If mob violence is the symptom, then the disease lies in the long legacy of authoritarian rule, politicisation of state institutions, and the systematic hollowing out of democratic accountability. The Hasina years entrenched a logic of patronage and fear: those within the circle of loyalty enjoyed impunity, while dissenters faced harassment or worse. Over time, this produced not only a culture of fear but also a culture of resentment. When the edifice collapsed in July-August 2024, the resentment had no institutional outlet. It spilled onto the streets.
Mob violence, then, cannot be reduced to "bad people doing bad things." It is the visible surface of a subterranean crisis that spans governance, justice, politics, and social psychology. To address it requires a multidimensional strategy. Law enforcement must be depoliticised and re-professionalised, beginning with visible steps to restore public trust. The bureaucracy must be jolted out of its inertia and made responsive to citizen needs. Youth gangs must be disengaged from the circuits of patronage that sustain them today and redirected towards constructive civic and economic opportunities. Above all, the interim government must remember that it is not an end in itself but a bridge: its most urgent task is to prepare the conditions for a credible election that reestablishes accountability at the top.
Without such steps, mob violence risks becoming a permanent feature of Bangladesh's political landscape. If that happens, the interim government's promise of stability will curdle into further disillusionment, and the very idea of democratic transition may be undermined rather than bolstered post-election. For ordinary citizens already battered by economic precarity, price hikes, and a fraying social fabric, that would be the final betrayal.
Dr Faridul Alam is a retired academic and writes from New York City, US.
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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