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The boycott Bangladesh has yet to learn
IN RECENT months, as Israel’s assault on Gaza has continued to draw global condemnation, public solidarity in Bangladesh has grown louder. Rallies in Dhaka and other cities have drawn thousands, with demonstrators demanding justice for Palestinians. Social media platforms have been flooded with...
www.newagebd.net
The boycott Bangladesh has yet to learn
Sohana Samrin Chowdhury 16 April, 2025, 00:00
Hundreds of thousands of people gather in Dhaka to attend March for Gaza grand rally on April 12. | Sony Ramani
IN RECENT months, as Israel’s assault on Gaza has continued to draw global condemnation, public solidarity in Bangladesh has grown louder. Rallies in Dhaka and other cities have drawn thousands, with demonstrators demanding justice for Palestinians. Social media platforms have been flooded with expressions of outrage. Among the loudest chants at these protests is a call to ‘Boycott Israel.’ But the slogan, while powerful, raises a critical question: what does it actually mean?
For many Bangladeshis, boycott is a compelling idea, but one not yet fully understood. Does it mean cutting ties with all American products? Avoiding fast-food chains altogether? Is every western brand equally culpable in Israeli state violence? Such confusion is not surprising. What it points to, however, is a deeper problem — a lack of awareness of the boycott, divestment and sanctions (BDS) movement and its strategic goals.
BDS was launched in 2005 by more than 170 Palestinian civil society organisations as a form of non-violent resistance against Israeli apartheid. Far from being a knee-jerk response to atrocities, the campaign is structured, inspired by the international boycott that played a key role in dismantling apartheid in South Africa. The movement centres around three demands: an end to Israeli occupation of Palestinian territories, equal rights for Palestinian citizens of Israel, and the right of return for Palestinian refugees expelled from their homes.
What makes BDS effective is its clarity. It does not call for a general rejection of all things Western, nor does it trade in hate speech. Instead, it urges consumers and institutions to target companies directly complicit in Israeli crimes under international law. This specificity is critical. Take HP, which supplies surveillance systems used at Israeli checkpoints. Or Puma, which sponsors the Israeli Football Association, including teams based in illegal settlements. Or McDonald’s, which faced backlash after providing free meals to Israeli soldiers. These are not targeted for being western; they are targeted for their direct involvement.
There is evidence that this strategy works. In Malaysia and Indonesia, public engagement with BDS has led to notable consumer shifts. McDonald’s saw its first quarterly sales decline since 2020, in part due to boycotts across Muslim-majority countries. Starbucks’ Malaysian franchisee reported a 38.2 per cent revenue drop in the last quarter of 2023. KFC’s local operator temporarily shut down over 100 outlets in April 2024, citing economic strain linked to the boycotts.
The impact of such consumer actions is not limited to Southeast Asia. In Europe, boycotts have prompted tangible outcomes: Puma products were removed from stores in Derry, Northern Ireland. In countries like Ireland, Spain and Norway, local councils and trade unions have formally divested from companies tied to the Israeli occupation. These instances demonstrate how focused, strategic pressure can produce economic and political consequences.
Even in Bangladesh, boycott actions have shown results. When Coca-Cola aired a defensive advert in 2023 to deny any ties to Israel, it was met with public backlash. Rather than reassuring consumers, the move was widely seen as an attempt to whitewash complicity. Sales reportedly dropped by 23 per cent. The advert was withdrawn. Meanwhile, local soft drink brands such as Mojo capitalised on the moment — voicing support for Palestine and donating to relief efforts. It was not a textbook BDS campaign, but it was effective. It exposed the vulnerability of multinational corporations to well-organised consumer resistance.
This should be instructive. Boycotts are not about emotional outbursts — they are about consistent, informed and targeted pressure. The South African example remains instructive. The global anti-apartheid movement did not begin in the 1980s. It took shape decades earlier through student boycotts, university divestments, and a sustained cultural embargo. By the 1970s, UK-based trade unions and churches had divested from South African banks. In the 1980s, US universities followed suit, pressured by student-led protests to divest billions from firms operating in South Africa. International musicians refused to perform there. Airlines, sports bodies and ultimately the UN imposed bans. It took time, but it worked. The regime was financially and culturally isolated until it fell in 1994.
This is the legacy that BDS draws upon — not scattered outrage or symbolic gestures, but a coherent strategy built on moral clarity and collective discipline. The same potential exists in Bangladesh, but it demands a shift in approach.
So what should be done next?
The first step is education. A campaign cannot succeed without informed participants. Many still do not know which companies are on the BDS list and why. Resources such as bdsmovement.net, alongside local language initiatives, can close this knowledge gap. Educational tools — from infographics and public talks to mosque sermons and student events — can channel online outrage into real-world impact.
The second step lies with civil society. Universities, trade bodies and private firms in Bangladesh can lead by example. They can refuse partnerships with companies complicit in apartheid and urge local suppliers to drop problematic brands. These institutions have moral influence — they must begin to use it.
Third, the media and policymakers must play their part. If Bangladesh is to position itself as a country with a moral voice on the world stage, its domestic economic decisions must reflect that. Support for Palestine cannot be limited to slogans; it must be reflected in trade and investment priorities.
This requires confronting a set of unhelpful distractions. Every time a boycott is discussed, someone inevitably asks, ‘Why not boycott your phone too?’ Or, ‘Why are you still on Facebook?’ These are not serious questions. They are bad-faith attempts to derail the conversation. Facebook is not on the BDS list — not because it is blameless, but because the movement targets companies directly profiting from the occupation. Understanding this distinction is crucial.
Yet even as awareness grows, contradictions persist. During the recent Bangladesh Investment Summit 2025, news broke that Zara would soon open its first store in the country. This was surprising, considering that Zara faced a global backlash in 2023 over an advertising campaign seen to echo scenes from the Gaza genocide — including mannequins wrapped in cloth and rubble-like backdrops. The campaign was condemned widely. Yet in Bangladesh, there was no media coverage, no political comment, no consumer outcry. While Coca-Cola was boycotted, Zara’s arrival was welcomed — a stark reminder of how selective our outrage can be.
This inconsistency is dangerous. Boycotts are not simply about avoiding certain purchases. They are expressions of shared values. If we only act when a brand makes headlines online, but remain silent as it opens shop in our malls, we risk reducing solidarity to performance. There was no public debate about Zara’s expansion. There should have been.
We must move beyond performative outrage. Bangladesh has already shown its people are willing to act. But action without clarity cannot build momentum. When brands are held to account, when local alternatives are supported, when informed choices are made — the results speak for themselves. But these outcomes require persistence, not fleeting interest.
To support Palestine meaningfully, we must first hold ourselves to account — as consumers, professionals, and citizens. Boycotts are not a purity test. They are tools. They allow us to ask: Who benefits from our spending? Who is welcomed into our economy? And whose suffering do we ignore in the name of convenience?
As Palestinians fight for the right to live with dignity and freedom, we owe it to them to ensure our economic choices do not fund their oppression. The BDS movement offers a way to act — if we are willing to follow through.
Sohana Samrin Chowdhury has worked with the International Labour Organization, UNDP and WFP, focusing on skills development, labour migration, and workplace safety policy.
Sohana Samrin Chowdhury 16 April, 2025, 00:00
Hundreds of thousands of people gather in Dhaka to attend March for Gaza grand rally on April 12. | Sony Ramani
IN RECENT months, as Israel’s assault on Gaza has continued to draw global condemnation, public solidarity in Bangladesh has grown louder. Rallies in Dhaka and other cities have drawn thousands, with demonstrators demanding justice for Palestinians. Social media platforms have been flooded with expressions of outrage. Among the loudest chants at these protests is a call to ‘Boycott Israel.’ But the slogan, while powerful, raises a critical question: what does it actually mean?
For many Bangladeshis, boycott is a compelling idea, but one not yet fully understood. Does it mean cutting ties with all American products? Avoiding fast-food chains altogether? Is every western brand equally culpable in Israeli state violence? Such confusion is not surprising. What it points to, however, is a deeper problem — a lack of awareness of the boycott, divestment and sanctions (BDS) movement and its strategic goals.
BDS was launched in 2005 by more than 170 Palestinian civil society organisations as a form of non-violent resistance against Israeli apartheid. Far from being a knee-jerk response to atrocities, the campaign is structured, inspired by the international boycott that played a key role in dismantling apartheid in South Africa. The movement centres around three demands: an end to Israeli occupation of Palestinian territories, equal rights for Palestinian citizens of Israel, and the right of return for Palestinian refugees expelled from their homes.
What makes BDS effective is its clarity. It does not call for a general rejection of all things Western, nor does it trade in hate speech. Instead, it urges consumers and institutions to target companies directly complicit in Israeli crimes under international law. This specificity is critical. Take HP, which supplies surveillance systems used at Israeli checkpoints. Or Puma, which sponsors the Israeli Football Association, including teams based in illegal settlements. Or McDonald’s, which faced backlash after providing free meals to Israeli soldiers. These are not targeted for being western; they are targeted for their direct involvement.
There is evidence that this strategy works. In Malaysia and Indonesia, public engagement with BDS has led to notable consumer shifts. McDonald’s saw its first quarterly sales decline since 2020, in part due to boycotts across Muslim-majority countries. Starbucks’ Malaysian franchisee reported a 38.2 per cent revenue drop in the last quarter of 2023. KFC’s local operator temporarily shut down over 100 outlets in April 2024, citing economic strain linked to the boycotts.
The impact of such consumer actions is not limited to Southeast Asia. In Europe, boycotts have prompted tangible outcomes: Puma products were removed from stores in Derry, Northern Ireland. In countries like Ireland, Spain and Norway, local councils and trade unions have formally divested from companies tied to the Israeli occupation. These instances demonstrate how focused, strategic pressure can produce economic and political consequences.
Even in Bangladesh, boycott actions have shown results. When Coca-Cola aired a defensive advert in 2023 to deny any ties to Israel, it was met with public backlash. Rather than reassuring consumers, the move was widely seen as an attempt to whitewash complicity. Sales reportedly dropped by 23 per cent. The advert was withdrawn. Meanwhile, local soft drink brands such as Mojo capitalised on the moment — voicing support for Palestine and donating to relief efforts. It was not a textbook BDS campaign, but it was effective. It exposed the vulnerability of multinational corporations to well-organised consumer resistance.
This should be instructive. Boycotts are not about emotional outbursts — they are about consistent, informed and targeted pressure. The South African example remains instructive. The global anti-apartheid movement did not begin in the 1980s. It took shape decades earlier through student boycotts, university divestments, and a sustained cultural embargo. By the 1970s, UK-based trade unions and churches had divested from South African banks. In the 1980s, US universities followed suit, pressured by student-led protests to divest billions from firms operating in South Africa. International musicians refused to perform there. Airlines, sports bodies and ultimately the UN imposed bans. It took time, but it worked. The regime was financially and culturally isolated until it fell in 1994.
This is the legacy that BDS draws upon — not scattered outrage or symbolic gestures, but a coherent strategy built on moral clarity and collective discipline. The same potential exists in Bangladesh, but it demands a shift in approach.
So what should be done next?
The first step is education. A campaign cannot succeed without informed participants. Many still do not know which companies are on the BDS list and why. Resources such as bdsmovement.net, alongside local language initiatives, can close this knowledge gap. Educational tools — from infographics and public talks to mosque sermons and student events — can channel online outrage into real-world impact.
The second step lies with civil society. Universities, trade bodies and private firms in Bangladesh can lead by example. They can refuse partnerships with companies complicit in apartheid and urge local suppliers to drop problematic brands. These institutions have moral influence — they must begin to use it.
Third, the media and policymakers must play their part. If Bangladesh is to position itself as a country with a moral voice on the world stage, its domestic economic decisions must reflect that. Support for Palestine cannot be limited to slogans; it must be reflected in trade and investment priorities.
This requires confronting a set of unhelpful distractions. Every time a boycott is discussed, someone inevitably asks, ‘Why not boycott your phone too?’ Or, ‘Why are you still on Facebook?’ These are not serious questions. They are bad-faith attempts to derail the conversation. Facebook is not on the BDS list — not because it is blameless, but because the movement targets companies directly profiting from the occupation. Understanding this distinction is crucial.
Yet even as awareness grows, contradictions persist. During the recent Bangladesh Investment Summit 2025, news broke that Zara would soon open its first store in the country. This was surprising, considering that Zara faced a global backlash in 2023 over an advertising campaign seen to echo scenes from the Gaza genocide — including mannequins wrapped in cloth and rubble-like backdrops. The campaign was condemned widely. Yet in Bangladesh, there was no media coverage, no political comment, no consumer outcry. While Coca-Cola was boycotted, Zara’s arrival was welcomed — a stark reminder of how selective our outrage can be.
This inconsistency is dangerous. Boycotts are not simply about avoiding certain purchases. They are expressions of shared values. If we only act when a brand makes headlines online, but remain silent as it opens shop in our malls, we risk reducing solidarity to performance. There was no public debate about Zara’s expansion. There should have been.
We must move beyond performative outrage. Bangladesh has already shown its people are willing to act. But action without clarity cannot build momentum. When brands are held to account, when local alternatives are supported, when informed choices are made — the results speak for themselves. But these outcomes require persistence, not fleeting interest.
To support Palestine meaningfully, we must first hold ourselves to account — as consumers, professionals, and citizens. Boycotts are not a purity test. They are tools. They allow us to ask: Who benefits from our spending? Who is welcomed into our economy? And whose suffering do we ignore in the name of convenience?
As Palestinians fight for the right to live with dignity and freedom, we owe it to them to ensure our economic choices do not fund their oppression. The BDS movement offers a way to act — if we are willing to follow through.
Sohana Samrin Chowdhury has worked with the International Labour Organization, UNDP and WFP, focusing on skills development, labour migration, and workplace safety policy.
