Two years after a student-led uprising toppled PM Sheikh Hasina, critics say Bangladesh's reform momentum is fading as political divisions deepen and key changes stall. Just two years after a student-led uprising ended the nearly 16-year rule of Sheikh Hasina, many fear Bangladesh is slipping backward. With Hasina, now in exile in India, planning a return in December and critics accusing the current government of failing to deliver on its promises, the country's political future is once again in doubt. "At the end of the day, we did not see the elimination of discrimination, the creation of an inclusive society, or the new political order that was promised," Mohammad Tanzimuddin Khan, a professor of international relations at Dhaka University, told DW. "It seems we are forgetting the very reasons behind the uprising of last July, especially those who came to power." The protest movement began in 2018 over a controversial quota system for government jobs. In 2024, a court-backed move to reinstate parts of the system sparked fresh demonstrations that grew into a wider anti-government uprising. In August 2024, after more than 1,000 people were killed in the unrest, then Prime Minister Hasina fled to India. Rebuilding Bangladesh's institutionsBangladesh's interim government, which was led by Nobel Peace Prize winner Muhammad Yunus and backed by the military and key figures from the uprising, facilitated the signing of a reform roadmap. It was named the "July Charter" after the month when the uprising that toppled Hasina began.  In a February 2026 referendum, around 70% of voters approved the charter, which proposed term limits for prime ministers, the creation of an upper house of parliament, stronger presidential powers and greater judicial independence. The Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) won a decisive majority in a general election that took place alongside the referendum. Critics say the BNP has since failed to implement several pre-election reform commitments. Ali Riaz, who led the interim government's Constitution Reform Commission, said there had been "time-bound commitments," including the creation of a constitutional reform council and steps to implement reforms within 180 working days. "That was not done," he said, adding that it was "deeply regrettable." Is Bangladesh moving in the wrong direction?The interim government introduced 133 ordinances as part of its reform agenda, but after the BNP came to power, it refused to adopt 20 of them — including measures concerning the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), the Anti-Corruption Commission, enforced disappearances and referendums. The BNP argues that constitutional and institutional changes should be enacted through proper legislative procedures in Parliament. The BNP and the opposition Jamaat-e-Islami-led alliance have clashed over the July Charter, including proposals for a constituent assembly to oversee constitutional reforms. Salahuddin Ahmed, who led the BNP's representatives in the National Consensus Commission, now serves as Bangladesh's Home Minister. Speaking in Parliament in March, Ahmed described the charter's implementation order as "a document of endless deception" by the interim government. Asif Mahmud, spokesperson for the student-led National Citizen Party (NCP), accused the BNP of "betraying the public" on its reform promises and cast doubt on "whether voters would trust the party again if a similar political moment were to arise." Mahmud, a leading figure in the uprising who later served as an adviser in the interim government before resigning ahead of the national election, told DW: "The BNP is taking the country backward by revoking the very ordinances and reforms that the interim government had implemented."  However, Khan believes the opposition party also bears responsibility for this. "It is not just the ruling party; there is no sign of the opposition breaking free from this tendency either." While he sees some change in the way prime ministerial power is exercised, he believes "politicization has returned to major institutions, including educational ones." Have public aspirations been realized?Mahmud said "political parties were eager to secure power" through early elections, forcing student leaders of the uprising to "make compromises on key reform demands." Alleged enforced disappearances were among the most serious accusations against Hasina's government. A commission set up by the interim administration reported that, of 1,913 complaints received, 1,569 were verified and classified as cases of enforced disappearance. Among those who later returned alive, about 75% were linked to the Islamist party Jamaat-e-Islami and 22% to the BNP, the main political rivals of Hasina's Awami League party. In an effort to prevent future abuses, Bangladesh signed the UN Convention against Enforced Disappearances in August 2024. The interim government later introduced an ordinance to criminalize the practice. "We wanted to ensure permanence by incorporating this into the constitution and making the necessary legal changes," Asif Mahmud said. However, rather than seeking parliamentary approval for the ordinance, the BNP-led government published a new draft bill in July 2026. Critics say the proposal weakened safeguards by assigning investigations into alleged enforced disappearances from the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) to the police. Human Rights Watch (HRW)  warned that "allowing the police to investigate enforced disappearances will not ensure accountability and will not create the deterrence necessary to bring this practice to an end." HRW also cited the April 21 alleged abduction of Miraj Sheikh by men allegedly posing as Coast Guard personnel as the first reported enforced disappearance since the 2024 uprising. More than three months later, his whereabouts remain unknown. "We see signs of a return to those old times," Khan said. "Naturally, this is alarming." The 'Hasina Factor' persists in Bangladesh politicsThe Awami League and its affiliated organizations remain banned under an executive order and were excluded from February's elections. Hasina, meanwhile, has been sentenced to death by Bangladesh's International Crimes Tribunal over crimes against humanity committed during the 2024 uprising and remains self-exiled in India. Yet despite her fall from power, Hasina and her Awami League continue to loom large over Bangladesh's political landscape. In a Reuters interview last month, Hasina said she plans to return to Bangladesh in December and surrender to the authorities. The authorities in Dhaka "want to take me back, they are repeatedly sending letters to India seeking to have me sent back," she said. "I will go myself." "I believe in justice and I feel that once proceedings start, it will be ​clear to the people how farcical the court is," Hasina added, "and that I want to prove it." The announcement of her planned return has fueled fresh debate. NCP spokesperson Asif Mahmud argued that "even India no longer wishes to host Hasina" and suggested her remarks reflect growing uncertainty about her future there. Mahmud added that sheltering Hasina now provides India with little political benefit and complicates relations with Bangladesh's current government. Bangladesh's attorney general has declared that Hasina would be arrested immediately upon her return and stand trial. Ali Riaz, however, warned that Hasina's return could create new challenges. "During the trial proceedings, she and her followers might attempt to destabilize the law-and-order situation in Bangladesh for political gain," he said, calling on the government to guard against any resulting instability. Others, however, see a different possibility. Khan said the tensions surrounding Hasina's return could instead help "forge broader political unity in a deeply divided country."

A land etched by the rivers of time, Bangladesh stands today at a moral crossroads. Our history books, our folk songs, and our national identity are built upon a profound legacy of communal harmony, resilience, and collective compassion.  This is the soil that gave birth to the spirit of Ekattor, where religion, ethnicity, and creed blurred into a singular, unstoppable force for liberation.  This is the culture that venerates Lalon Shah, whose verses transcended the artificial walls of faith, asking the most human of questions: “What form does the soul take?” Yet, scrolling through today’s news feeds or hearing whispers in our neighborhoods, we are confronted with a jarring, painful contradiction.  A rising tide of barbaric incidents—communal violence, brutal attacks on minorities, venomous speech, and acts of shocking cruelty—threatens to tear the very fabric of our society. How did we, a nation born from a symphony of unity, find ourselves listening to this dissonant cacophony of hate? In the months following the political upheaval of August 2024, Bangladesh witnessed a disturbing surge in violence against religious minorities. According to the Bangladesh Hindu Buddhist Christian Unity Council (BHBCUC), more than 2,010 incidents of communal violence occurred between August 4 and 20, 2024, alone—including attacks on 69 temples, damage to over 1,000 homes and businesses, and the loss of innocent lives.  In the first half of 2025, the Council documented another 258 incidents, including 27 murders, 59 attacks on places of worship, and 20 cases of violence against women. Odhikar and Human Rights Watch have also recorded the continued targeting of Hindu, Buddhist, Christian and Ahmadiyya communities, as well as indigenous groups. These numbers are not abstract statistics. They represent shattered homes, desecrated temples, and families living in fear. One harrowing case that shocked the nation was the lynching of 25-year-old Hindu garment worker Dipu Chandra Das in December 2025—beaten, hanged, and set ablaze over an alleged blasphemy accusation.  Such acts of barbarity stand in stark, heartbreaking contrast to the compassionate Bangladesh we know ourselves to be. The gap between our historical self-image and our present reality is not just alarming; it is an existential warning. We must confront this contradiction not with denial, but with fierce, collective introspection. The barbarity we witness is not an alien invasion; it is a corrosion from within.  Read More The Turbulent History of US-Cuban Relations It is the fruit of cultivated prejudice, of political and social narratives that have, for years, quietly exchanged our rich, complex identity for a narrow, monolithic one. It is the result of an empathy deficit, where the “other”—be they of a different faith, ethnic community, or social standing—is slowly dehumanized, turned from a neighbor into a caricature, and then into a target. This dehumanization is the bedrock of all barbarism. When we strip a person of their individual story, their dreams, and their capacity for pain and joy—reducing them to a mere label of “they” or “them”—we grant ourselves unconscious permission for cruelty.  The assailant does not see a humble shopkeeper, a devout worshipper, or a diligent student; he sees only an abstract symbol he has been taught to fear or despise. This is where our collective failure lies. We have allowed the space for shared stories to shrink.  We have forgotten the profound Bengali tradition of ‘mohamaya’—the divine illusion that separates us—and instead of seeking the underlying unity, we have begun to believe the illusion is real. Therefore, the antidote to this barbarity is not merely stricter laws or louder condemnation, though both are necessary. The fundamental antidote is a conscious, deliberate, and massive reawakening of compassion—not as a soft, passive feeling, but as the most robust and revolutionary human quality.  Compassion is not mere pity; it is the courageous recognition of oneself in another. It is the active force that propelled hundreds of Muslim villagers to form protective rings around Hindu puja mandaps in times of tension and Hindu families to shelter their Muslim neighbors.  These are not fairy tales; they are living, breathing examples from our own recent past, proving that our better nature is not extinct, only dormant. Reclaiming this compassion requires a personal and public revolution. First, we must practice Radical Empathy in our daily orbits. This starts in our homes—in what we tolerate and what we challenge. It means correcting a prejudiced joke at the family meal, intervening when a colleague is unfairly maligned for their background, and choosing kindness in traffic and in queues.  It means visiting the neighborhoods and houses of worship of communities different from our own, not as tourists, but as learners and guests.  We must consciously consume media that humanizes rather than demonizes, sharing stories of inter-community friendship, collaborative business ventures, and the countless mixed neighborhoods where life continues in peaceful synergy. These narratives are our true national news. Second, we must demand and cultivate responsible speech from our leaders, influencers, and ourselves. Words are the architects of reality. The venom that flows from political platforms, social media pulpits, and even some pulpits of faith is not “just talk”; it is the kindling for the fire of violence.  Collected Photo We must collectively shift our moral compass to honor those who build bridges with their words and withdraw our attention—and our votes—from those who trade in division. Silence in the face of hateful rhetoric is complicity. Our public discourse must be re-sanctified by the values of liberty and equality that our forebears died for. Finally, we must actively rebuild our civic friendship. The strength of Bangladesh has always been in its samajik bonds—the community organizations, cultural groups, and relief committees that form spontaneously in crises.  We need to revive and reinvent these spaces as integrated, inclusive forums. Let our literary festivals, football tournaments, flood relief efforts, and cultural jatra be deliberately pluralistic. Let our children study together, play together, and work on community projects together, so their friendships become an unbreakable barrier against future bigotry. Our harmony was never the absence of diversity, but its celebration. Bangladesh is not, and must never become, a nation defined by the barbarism of a few. It is defined by the quiet compassion of millions—the farmer who shares his harvest, the rickshaw puller who returns a lost wallet, and the strangers who pull together during a cyclone. This is our true character. This is the soul of this land, waiting to be reaffirmed. The rivers of Bangladesh do not compete—they merge before flowing into the sea. Let our diverse streams of humanity do the same. Let compassion become the mighty current that sweeps away the debris of hatred. In a world full of conflict, only humanity can stop this.  Our history commands it. Our future depends on it. Every day, in every conversation and every act, let us choose to be healers, not hurters. Let us rebuild, together, the Bangladesh that was always meant to be—a sanctuary for the human heart.

Donald Trump is not the first US president to have expansionist ambitions for Cuba. The US has a long history of trying to control the island — and of antagonistic relations with its government. "I think I could do anything I want with it": That's what Donald Trump said about Cuba mid-March. Yet he is hardly the first US president with such expansionist desires, notes historian Michael Zeuske, a professor at the Center for Dependency and Slavery Studies at the University of Bonn. Zeuske says the US had already set its sights on the island as early as the mid-19th century. Cuba is not for saleBack then, Cuba was still a Spanish colony. In 1820, Thomas Jefferson, who had served as the third president of the nascent United States from 1801-09, declared that his country should seize the first opportunity to annex Cuba. Three years later, then-Secretary of State John Quincy Adams remarked: "There are laws of political as well as of physical gravitation; and if an apple severed by the tempest from its native tree cannot choose but fall to the ground, Cuba, forcibly disjoined from its own unnatural connection with Spain, and incapable of self support, can gravitate only towards the North American Union, which by the same law of nature cannot cast her off from its bosom." In 1848, the 11th US president, James K. Polk, offered the Spanish $100 million for Cuba, only for the European colonial power to reportedly reply that it would rather sink the island into the sea. Spain desperately wanted to keep hold of the colony, one of the few still in its possession. But just six years later the US was at it again: Its diplomats drafted a secret document in which they claimed the right to take Cuba by force should Spain continue to refuse their demand to sell the island. Nothing would come of it, however. The 'apple' is ripeAll these plans were a result of the Monroe Doctrine, a foreign policy direction rooted in then-President James Monroe's 1823 message to the European colonial powers that "America [is] for the Americans." On the surface, this message concerned the sovereignty of the young nation in North and South America. However, the US itself had already long ago embarked on a course of expansion. So wouldn't it be logical to finally pick that apple lying just 160 km (99 miles) off the south coast of Florida? It was practically on their doorstep. Finally, in 1898, the US found a pretext to take over the island. The Cubans had been fighting bitterly for years to rid themselves of Spanish rule, and Washington established a strong military presence on the island, on the pretext that it was protecting its citizens there. As part of this, the USS Maine, a navy battleship, was anchored in Havana Harbor for weeks. On February 15, 1898, a massive explosion tore open the ship's hull, sinking the vessel almost immediately. Was it caused by a smoldering fire that reached the ammunition? Or had the Spanish torpedoed the ship, as the US claimed? According to Zeuske, the accusation has never been substantiated; there is no proof it was an attack. The US nonetheless declared war on Spain. 'Remember the Maine! To hell with Spain!' became the rallying cry of soldiers in the Spanish-American war Cuba becomes a de facto protectorateThe war lasted just four months and ended with Spain losing its last major colonies: Puerto Rico, Guam, the Philippines and Cuba. The United States finally took control of the Caribbean island — but it didn't become a state. This is due in large part to US Senator Henry M. Teller, who opposed Cuba's annexation, supposedly to protect the sugar industry in his home state of Colorado from Cuban competition. Yet Cuba also wasn't given full independence. The United States refused to withdraw its troops unless the new government accepted the conditions of the "Platt Amendment." Cuban leaders had to include it in the constitution, Zeuske explains. The amendment would define future relations between the two countries, effectively allowing the US to have a say in foreign policy, national debt and health policy, as well as to intervene militarily and build naval bases. The base at Guantanamo still exists today. On May 20, 1902, US military rule ended and the Republic of Cuba installed its first president. But even then, Cuba remained a quasi-protectorate of its powerful northern neighbor. The US was driven largely by economic interests: By 1926, US companies controlled about 60% of Cuba's sugar industry. American investors also poured large amounts of money into hotels, bars and casinos in Havana. The mafia's long reachIn 1920 the US banned alcohol, and tourists began flocking to Cuba. Organized crime groups followed soon after. Cuba was close enough to the US to be easily reached but far enough away to avoid its law enforcement. Havana became a major hub for gambling, drug and arms trafficking, money laundering and prostitution. US crime groups and the circle around Cuba's dictatorial leader Fulgencio Batista made millions in profits. Batista maintained close ties with mob boss Meyer Lansky, who became a key business partner and informal adviser. The Cuban Revolution and its aftermathWhile the elites were growing wealthier, much of the population was struggling in poverty. In 1953 Fidel Castro led an initial insurrection that government forces crushed. His "26th of July Movement" subsequently waged a guerrilla war that ended in 1959 with Batista fleeing the country. "Castro initially tried to maintain a good relationship with the United States," Zeuske says, but US officials showed little interest in negotiating with a socialist revolutionary. What's more, Castro ordered the expropriation of US-owned refineries and sugar plantations and grew closer to the Soviet Union. In 1960, President Dwight D. Eisenhower imposed a trade embargo on Cuba. In 1961, Cuban exiles, covertly supported by the CIA, attempted to land at the Bay of Pigs, on Cuba's southern coast, and overthrow the Castro government. The operation failed miserably and became a public embarrassment for the United States. Cubans celebrated Castro as he made further overtures toward Moscow, turning Cuba into a Soviet-aligned state in the Western Hemisphere. In 1962, the Soviet Union deployed nuclear missiles to Cuba, bringing the world to the brink of nuclear war. The crisis ended when the Soviets withdrew the weapons in exchange for a US pledge not to invade Cuba. But US efforts to eliminate Castro continued, first through assassination plots and later through schemes involving poisoned cigars, a contaminated diving suit and an explosive device disguised as a seashell. These attempts caused Cubans to rally even more closely around their leader. Is Cuba 'ready to fall'?In the decades that followed, relations between the countries improved twice, under Presidents Jimmy Carter in the late 70s and Barack Obama in the 2010s. President Donald Trump later reversed that course. In early January, Trump claimed Cuba was "ready to fall" and increased pressure on the island by blocking its foreign oil supplies, including those from Cuba-friendly Venezuela, where the US had taken military action. In March, Trump added on camera: "I think I will have the honor of taking Cuba." The Cuban response was swift: Deputy Foreign Minister Carlos Fernandez de Cossío told NBC News that the country was sovereign and would not accept being controlled by another state. Conditions in Cuba remain strained. Its energy supply has faltered, and blackouts have become common. Tourism has declined, garbage has piled up in the streets, and food has spoiled during power outages. "When it comes to leadership, the military and territorial control, Cuba is extremely resilient," Zeuske says. "At the same time, people are deeply dissatisfied with their government, especially with the power cuts. Conditions continue to deteriorate. Many young people want to leave."