Bangladesh’s Identity at Risk: The State-Sanctioned Demonic Erasure of the Father of the Nation

Sanjoy Kumar Barua

History does not forgive, nor does it forget. The demolition of Dhanmondi 32—the home of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and the birthplace of Bangladesh’s national identity—under the watchful eyes of law enforcement, marks a dark, irreversible rupture in the country’s historical continuum.

Initially dismissed as spontaneous mob violence following the collapse of the Awami League government on August 5, 2024, it has since emerged as a state-facilitated purge, targeting not just a political party but the very ideological foundations of Bangladesh’s independence.

With the interim government of Nobel laureate Dr. Muhammad Yunus assuming power, a nation bruised by years of political suppression, corruption, and misrule hoped for a democratic reset, a break from the entrenched cycle of authoritarianism and political vengeance.

Instead, the country has witnessed a brazen attempt to rewrite its history, a systematic erasure of Sheikh Mujib’s legacy, and the most severe wave of political retribution since 1975.

Dhanmondi 32 is not just a house—it is an indelible symbol of Bangladesh’s struggle for freedom, the epicenter of its liberation movement, the residence of its founding father, and the site of the nation’s most harrowing political tragedy.

Even in 1971, as the Pakistani military unleashed a genocidal campaign, they did not dare desecrate this historic landmark.

Yet, under the watch of the interim government, it has been vandalized, looted, torched, and ultimately bulldozed—a ruthless, Taliban-style obliteration of national heritage.

This assault is not an anomaly.

In the aftermath of August 5, 2024, the country has witnessed the systematic destruction of over 50 sculptures and murals of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman across the nation, arson attacks on at least 33 homes of former ministers and MPs, the looting and burning of Awami League offices nationwide, and a concerted effort to distort and discredit Mujib’s role in Bangladesh’s liberation.

What is unfolding is not merely political vengeance—it is a deliberate attempt to erase the ideological foundations of Bangladesh’s independence, to rewrite history in service of a new, insidious agenda.

Dr. Muhammad Yunus, a Nobel laureate revered globally for his contributions to microfinance and social enterprise, now stands at the center of an unsettling paradox.

A man who has spent his life advocating for democratic values and economic empowerment in the world’s most advanced societies has, in his brief tenure, presided over one of the most extensive political and historical erasures in Bangladesh’s history.

His silence in the wake of this destruction raises profound questions:

Is he complicit in this historical purge, or merely powerless against the forces that enabled it?

Did his government intentionally allow Mujib’s legacy to be erased in a bid to neutralize the Awami League’s ideological grip on national politics?

Has Bangladesh simply replaced one authoritarian power structure with another, masked under the veneer of democratic transition?

Dr. Yunus’s deep ties to Western democracies should have equipped him to steer Bangladesh toward a more inclusive, pluralistic future. Instead, his interim government appears to be fueling the same cycle of political vengeance that has crippled Bangladesh for decades.

History provides a chilling precedent. On August 15, 1975, Mujib and his family were assassinated, and within months, Bangladesh was placed under military rule.

A law was passed granting his killers immunity, and the new regime attempted to erase his name from public consciousness.

Yet, despite a 21-year-long suppression, Mujib’s ideology resurfaced with the Awami League’s return to power in 1996.

The current regime’s attempt to obliterate Mujib’s presence follows the same ill-fated script.

Political figures may fall, but ideological forces—particularly ones so deeply woven into a nation’s identity—are rarely eradicated.

Mujib is not just a name; he is an idea. An idea that will not die, no matter how many murals are smashed, how many homes are burned, or how many books are rewritten.

Beyond the immediate destruction, Bangladesh faces a far greater existential dilemma: the erosion of its social contract.

The state’s fundamental duty is to protect its people, their history, and their aspirations. Yet, as homes are burned, opposition figures are targeted, and national symbols are dismantled, Bangladesh’s future as a cohesive, democratic state hangs in the balance.

This is no longer about Mujib versus his adversaries. It is about whether Bangladesh, as a sovereign nation, can withstand the forces seeking to tear it apart.

If historical purges and political vendettas remain the currency of power, Bangladesh risks descending into a failed state, where institutions are hollow, governance is absent, and history is dictated by those with the strongest grip on violence.