
When the International Crimes Tribunal (ICT) of Bangladesh opened proceedings on 3 August 2025 against former prime minister Sheikh Hasina, it marked a dramatic reversal of roles. Once the architect of the tribunal’s revival and expansion, Hasina now stands accused before the very court she created. Charged with crimes against humanity for the bloody crackdown on anti-government protests in July and August 2024—where more than 1,400 unarmed protesters were killed—the trial encapsulates the uneasy overlap between justice and politics in Bangladesh.
Hasina, who fled to India on 5 August 2024 after the army withdrew its protection, is being tried in absentia. Alongside her are her former home minister Asaduzzaman Khan Kamal (also absconding) and former inspector general of police (IGP) Chowdhury Abdullah Al-Mamun. The latter, now in custody, has become a state witness, offering damning testimony that may seal Hasina’s fate. Yet the legal foundations of the trial—and the political implications of its outcome—raise questions far beyond Bangladesh’s borders.
The Core Allegations
The prosecution has framed five charges against Hasina, asserting her command responsibility as prime minister and head of the ruling Awami League. These include ordering mass killings, targeting women and children, incinerating bodies, denying medical care to the wounded, and orchestrating a systematic campaign of state repression.
Key evidence comes from Al-Mamun’s testimony, which details planning meetings at Ganabhaban (the prime minister’s residence) on 4–5 August 2024. There, Hasina, her sister Sheikh Rehana, senior ministers, and security chiefs allegedly resolved to block the “March to Dhaka” protest with overwhelming force. According to Al-Mamun, police and army units were positioned at city entry points, and by midday on 5 August the scale of violence had spiraled out of control. By nightfall, Hasina had fled by air, leaving her apparatus collapsing behind her.
For prosecutors, Al-Mamun’s confession not only establishes the chain of command but also provides leverage to secure additional state witnesses under reduced sentences. If corroborated, this testimony could decisively link Hasina to crimes against humanity.
The Legal Dilemma: Trials in Absentia
The trial’s legality, however, remains its most contested feature. The International Crimes (Tribunals) Act (ICTA), 1973, initially modeled on the Nuremberg Tribunal, did not provide for in absentia proceedings. The controversial 2012 amendment, introduced under Hasina’s own government, inserted Section 10A, allowing trials without the accused present if they are deemed to have absconded.
Critics argue this violates Article 14(3)(d) of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), to which Bangladesh is a party. While the UN Human Rights Committee acknowledges limited exceptions, international jurisprudence is clear: in absentia trials are only permissible if the accused is fully notified, represented by counsel, and guaranteed the right to a retrial upon return. Bangladesh’s ICT has repeatedly failed these tests.
The stakes are amplified because the ICTA authorizes the death penalty. To impose the ultimate punishment without the accused present—or without retrial rights—would not only breach international norms but could discredit the tribunal altogether.
The Irony of History
There is a profound irony in seeing Sheikh Hasina before the ICT. When her Awami League swept to power in 2008, its manifesto pledged to prosecute “war criminals” of 1971. The ICT was revived in 2010 and quickly handed down convictions and executions, mostly targeting opposition leaders from Jamaat-e-Islami.
At the time, international observers—from the UN, Human Rights Watch, and Amnesty International—criticized the tribunal for political bias and weak due process. Hasina and her allies dismissed those warnings. Now the same tribunal, operating under the very amendments her government introduced, has been turned against her. History, in a cruel twist, has made her the accused in her own courtroom.
Political Context: Beyond the Dock
The trial is as much about Bangladesh’s power struggle as it is about justice. Since Hasina’s ouster in August 2024, Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus has led an interim government committed to dismantling authoritarian structures. Repurposing the ICT to prosecute human rights abuses during Hasina’s 15-year rule is part of that project.
Yet politics intrudes at every turn. The Awami League has branded the tribunal a “kangaroo court,” echoing criticisms once aimed at Hasina’s own trials of political opponents. Meanwhile, reports suggest India’s intelligence agency R&AW is lobbying to shield Hasina, fearing her conviction could extinguish New Delhi’s strongest lever of influence in Dhaka.
The opposition Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), traditionally at odds with India, faces accusations of being courted by R&AW to ensure continuity of Indian influence should it assume power. Such maneuvering highlights Bangladesh’s enduring vulnerability to external interference and the peril of allowing justice mechanisms to double as political weapons.
The International Dimension
The international community remains divided. Human rights organizations insist that the ICT, unless reformed, cannot deliver fair trials. They call for the repeal or amendment of Section 10A to end in absentia trials, guarantee retrial rights if an accused later appears, and align with international criminal law standards, including those of the International Criminal Court and the European Court of Human Rights.
Without such reforms, they argue, convictions will lack legitimacy and fuel further instability. Bangladesh risks entrenching a cycle where every change in government brings renewed waves of politically motivated prosecutions.
Strategic Implications
If convicted and sentenced to death, Hasina will become a political lightning rod. India’s refusal to extradite her already complicates Dhaka-New Delhi relations. Should Bangladesh press harder, it may expose India’s double game: publicly professing democratic solidarity while sheltering a former leader accused of mass atrocities.
For Bangladesh itself, the trial could cut two ways. A credible prosecution could mark a decisive break with impunity and authoritarianism. A flawed process, however, risks inflaming partisan conflict and undermining the very legitimacy the interim government seeks to build.
In the longer term, the trial underscores the need for an independent, depoliticized judiciary. Only by severing justice from political rivalry can Bangladesh avoid perpetual cycles of revenge disguised as accountability.
Conclusion: Justice or Retribution?
The trial of Sheikh Hasina is a historic event. Never before has a South Asian leader of her stature been prosecuted for crimes against humanity committed while in office. The charges are grave, the evidence mounting, and the political stakes immense.
But the means of prosecution matter as much as the outcome. Trials in absentia, coupled with the prospect of a death sentence, risk making the process look less like justice and more like vengeance. Unless the ICT reforms to meet international standards, its verdicts will be questioned—both at home and abroad.
Hasina’s supporters insist she is a victim of political persecution. Her opponents see long-overdue justice. The truth may lie somewhere in between. What is certain is that Bangladesh stands at a crossroads: either it builds a justice system that transcends politics, or it remains trapped in the cycle of retribution that has scarred its politics since independence.
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