[🇧🇩] July uprising

[Saif]

How social media became the frontline of the July Uprising

The July Movement in Bangladesh fused protest with digital defiance, using social media to bypass media silence, mobilize voices, and challenge power. It reshaped activism, highlighting social media’s role in truth, trauma, and transformation.

www.thedailystar.net

How social media became the frontline of the July Uprising

Image: LS

The July Movement did not start with a hashtag. It started with rage, grief, and a country cracking under pressure. However, it found its momentum online, mutating into a hybrid of protest and pixels, strategy and storytelling, bloodshed and bandwidth. When bullets hit the streets, stories hit the feeds. Before headlines could make sense of it, Instagram stories, Facebook lives, digital illustrations, and satirical memes did the job. And it was not the newsrooms that led this. It was a decentralised army of students, actors, presenters, illustrators, and people you would never have heard of, until they became the voice you could not ignore.

Manzur-al-Matin

A movement that could not be silenced

"Social media acted as a replacement for mainstream media," said Manzur-al-Matin, a lawyer, television host, and one of the familiar faces during the July mass uprising.

"Excluding a few newspapers, television in particular, was not showing anything. News of people dying was not coming out. There was a kind of media silencing… So, people became dependent on social media. It played a role both in mobilising and informing."

Matin recalled receiving tactical instructions via social media — how to treat tear gas wounds, how to regroup when scattered — "a tool for mass mobilisation," he called it. What made this different was that it did not rely on polished journalism. It relied on urgency, on participation, on people stepping up, logging in, and refusing to scroll past injustice.

Dipti Chowdhury, a TV presenter, also found herself at the centre of this shift. Her televised words, spoken during an internet shutdown, managed to go viral. She became, unwillingly, a symbol.

"That interview wasn't about me," she said. "It was everyone's experience of being silenced. People saw their own frustrations in my words.

"It's very difficult to control social media in a place where every person is like a TV channel. Even when the internet was shut down, VPNs kept the movement alive. People trusted social media more than conventional news."

Matin echoed the same. "We didn't speak up to go viral. We spoke up because staying silent felt like complicity. I tried to speak on TV. But after the 20th or 21st, that door closed. So, we took to the streets."

Dipti Chowdhury

Praise, backlash, and the algorithm

Praise came. Then the backlash. Then came the algorithmic silence.

"We saw how some who praised us started abusing us later," Matin added. "But we still spoke up, even when it was no longer popular. Because conscience doesn't follow trends."

Chowdhury experienced this backlash not as a political figure, but as a woman.

"My family's legacy of freedom fighters was questioned. Memes were made about me. My gender became ammunition," she said. "We united in July. But afterwards, we returned to what we know best – isolating people."

Both Chowdhury and Matin agreed: the hardest part was not speaking up during chaos. It was standing firm in the silence that followed.

The mob in the mirror

What came next was even messier: everyone claiming activism. Everyone claiming to speak for "the people." But at what point does advocacy turn into mob rule?

"Most people don't understand what activism truly is," Chowdhury said bluntly. "They're provoking, dividing, claiming moral authority without responsibility. We've confused activism with chaos."

Matin was more philosophical. "Hate spreads faster online. The algorithm rewards outrage. But what we see on social media does not always reflect who we are as a people."

And yet, both admit that digital spaces can no longer be dismissed as fluff. "Social media isn't just entertainment," Chowdhury emphasised. "It's political, it's economic, and it's dangerous when left unchecked."

Trauma, memory, and scrolling past grief

The digital aftermath is murky. The self-censorship that once ruled the internet is now replaced by a chaotic flood of unfiltered rage. But is that freedom – or another kind of trap?

Matin believes self-censorship still exists. "Just in different forms. Those who were once in power used to speak freely. Now, they censor themselves. And those who feel safe now speak recklessly. Social media gives voice to both truth and narcissism," he explains.

Chowdhury agreed but added nuance. "Yes, people post more freely now. But many also post for profit. Likes mean money. Satirical videos have become a business. So, where's the integrity?"

Perhaps, the deepest thread running through both voices is that of mental health. The digital battlefield leaves no one untouched.

"People witnessed real trauma," Matin said. "Violence, death, loss. But did they process it? No. They escaped to social media – only to be retraumatised."

He warns that "reels reduce thinking. Fake happiness makes us feel worse." Negativity spreads faster than truth. If we don't become aware of how these platforms shape us, we'll lose more than we realise.

The fight is not over

July did not end in July. Its aftershocks continue – online and offline. It was a movement not just of protests, but of digital defiance. It exposed both the power and the peril of social media in Bangladesh.

"Every phone became a newsroom," Chowdhury said. "Every person became a media outlet."

And in that chaos, some truths became undeniable: that storytelling is resistance. That silence can be louder than screams. And that even when the cameras are off, the algorithm keeps recording.

So, what's left now?

Maybe it's what Chowdhury suggests: "Social media should no longer be treated as a toy. It's a weapon, a tool, and a responsibility."

Or maybe it's what Matin reminds us: "Praise fades. Backlash fades. What remains is your own conscience. So, speak when you must. But also listen. And never confuse noise with clarity."

Chowdhury elaborates — "I was afraid. I didn't stay at home for days. I received threats saying if a certain party came to power, I'd be raped in the street or killed on sight. But I also received so much love. At one point, I thought — even if I'm jailed or killed, this much love is enough for a life."

As the dust settles, one thing remains clear: social media is no longer just a passive medium in Bangladesh. It is a force that can amplify movements, challenge silences, and reshape public consciousness. How this force is wielded in the future will continue to define the contours of resistance, representation, and responsibility in the digital age.

Photo: Collected​

 

[Saif]

11 July was first resistance day of 2024 mass uprising: Asif Mahmud

LGRD Adviser Asif Mahmud Shojib Bhuyain on Friday said 11 July was the first resistance day of the 2024 mass uprising.

en.prothomalo.com

11 July was first resistance day of 2024 mass uprising: Asif Mahmud
BSS Cumilla
Published: 11 Jul 2025, 21: 17

LGRD Adviser Asif Mahmud Shojib Bhuyain addresses a memorial at Cumilla University on 11 July 2025. BSS

LGRD Adviser Asif Mahmud Shojib Bhuyain on Friday said 11 July was the first resistance day of the 2024 mass uprising.

“The first blood of the 2024 mass uprising was shed at Cumilla University on 11 July, when police of then fascist regime launched a brutal and unprovoked attack on the students of the university. The students after that organized a fierce resistance and blockaded the Dhaka-Chattogram highway until 11 pm that night. It played a significant role in fuelling the nationwide movement that followed,” he said.

Asif declared the day as the First Day of Resistance of the 2024 mass uprising. He made the announcement this afternoon while addressing a memorial meeting organized at Cumilla University marking the anniversary of the police attack last year.

He further said that, like in July, he hopes the students of Cumilla University will always stand for truth and justice. In response to the students' demands, he also announced the donation of three buses for the university.

The event was presided over by university’s Vice-Chancellor Professor Haidar Ali, while Pro-Vice Chancellor Professor Masuda Kamal attended it as a special guest. Other guests included Treasurer Professor Mohammad Solaiman, Proctor Professor Abdul Hakim, Cumilla Deputy Commissioner Amirul Kaisar, and Superintendent of Police Najir Ahmed Khan.

During the 2024 mass uprising, the first police assault on protesters during the “Bangla Blockade” programme took place at Cumilla University on July 11. Around 20 students were injured as police opened fire, lobbed tear gas shells, and carried out baton charges on the demonstrators, he added.

News of the police attack spread rapidly, igniting anger among the students. The incident triggered a wave of protests across the country, including in Dhaka, where demonstrators condemned the police brutality.

In response, general students from all residential halls of Cumilla University took to the streets and blockaded the Dhaka–Chattogram Highway. The students effectively brought the highway to a standstill for nearly eight hours, in a significant display of resistance.​

 

[Saif]

July massacre and the BBC documentary

Hasina’s loyalists practically worshipped her for worldly gains. Some called her Jewel of the Nation, others called her daughter of democracy, mother of humanity

en.prothomalo.com

July massacre and the BBC documentary

Mohiuddin Ahmad
Published: 11 Jul 2025, 18: 19

Party goons and the law enforcement cracked down most brutally and cruelly to suppress the movement File Photo

Sheikh Hasina is the daughter of Bangladesh’s founding president Sheikh Mujib. Mujib ruled the country for three and a half years. The legacy of authoritarian governance in this country began with him. When his popularity fell to the nadir, he was killed by the military. Hasina ruled for twenty and a half years. In many respects, she followed in her father's footsteps. In others, she surpassed him. She took authoritarian rule to its peak. Eventually, she too fell. She fled for her life. And in doing so, she symbolically killed her father a second time. This will remain as a lasting example.

Hasina’s loyalists practically worshipped her for worldly gains. Some called her "Desh Ratna" (Jewel of the Nation), others called "the daughter of democracy". Some dubbed her "the daughter of language", others hailed her as "the mother of humanity". She patronised certain intellectuals and assigned them to rewrite the narrative of independence. Several political parties, large and small, staged movements against Hasina’s government. Her followers harassed many of them, beating, jailing, disappearing and even killing some.

The students had wanted quotas reformed, brought to a reasonable level. Hasina, in a piece of political showmanship, scrapped the entire system.
It would have been wise to stop there, yet Hasina’s mind was always teeming with evil ploys

It has seemed unimaginable at the time that Hasina would not remain prime minister during her lifetime or that Khaleda Zia would ever live a free life again. But that is exactly what happened on 5 August 2024.
During Hasina’s time, political parties did stage movements, but for various reasons they failed to draw the public in.

Those protests were basically cadre driven. People had lost interest in, and grown weary of, conventional, old style politics. Even so, we witnessed a few movements in which ordinary citizens did join wholeheartedly. None of these were aimed at toppling the government, nor were they carried out under any party banner, although they enjoyed the sympathy and support of many parties and saw large numbers of their activists take part.

The 'Safe Roads' movement is a good example. It reflected the aspirations of everyday citizens. In its final phase, the government’s thugs descended on the protesters, the “helmeted” men whose photos and footage we all saw in the news.

Then came the quota reform movement, which came in three phases. The first two stirred general students but stalled before they could go far, each time tripping up when the government-backed student front Bangladesh Chhatra League (BCL) swooped down on the campus. Hasina’s model for crushing protests went like this: students demonstrate, BCL cadres attack, beating them and driving them off campus. If that fails, money, intelligence operatives, and pet journalists spread disinformation to sow divisions, and in time the movement fizzles out. But in the third phase that formula did not work.

Ironically, the movement ignited because of the government’s over manipulation. After the second phase, it issued a circular abolishing all quotas in public recruitment, something the students had not asked for. The students had wanted quotas reformed, brought to a reasonable level. Hasina, in a piece of political showmanship, scrapped the entire system.

It would have been wise to stop there, yet Hasina’s mind was always teeming with evil ploys.

She kept the opposition perpetually on the run, manufacturing issues where none existed and pouncing on them. Her language was intemperate, crude and insolent, and she lacked the finesse, learning, or interest to grasp the consequences. No one dared advise her. She hand picked flatterers as “advisers”, glorified servants of her whims.

A writ was then filed in court to restore the quotas. This was an old ploy. Hasina sought to play her dirty game using the judiciary, just as she had earlier got the caretaker government clause of the constitution struck down to fulfill her own designs. She knew that once that clause was gone, she could stay in power indefinitely, and there was no shortage of servile judges. This time, though, the plan misfired. Students and job seekers erupted in fury. Under the banner of the "Anti Discrimination Student Movement", the protest spread nationwide.

The regime returned to its standard tactics. First the hired helmet goons beat up the students, drove them from the halls, and launched armed attacks in the streets.

The BBC documentary is very professional. The footage of police savagery in Jatrabari is hair raising. With similar investigation the attacks in Badda, Mohammadpur, Uttara and elsewhere could be documented just as vividly, and that is only Dhaka. There were many such assaults across the country.

For the first time students from public and private universities, madrasas, and even schools and colleges stood shoulder to shoulder. The movement spilled beyond campuses. Police, RAB and BGB were then deployed. Helmeted thugs assaulted protesters while the security forces stood by shielding the attackers until the forces themselves declared war on the demonstrators. But nothing worked. As public participation swelled it turned into a full blown mass uprising and the Hasina government fell.

Hasina felt no sense of duty either to country or to party. Within the party she had created a league of her relatives, comprising solely family and close kin. After spiriting them to safety, she finally bolted. Never in the nation’s history has there been such a selfish and dishonourable exit.

The brutality unleashed by ruling party goons and the security forces surpassed every limit. Because of sundry restrictions much of it never reached the mainstream media. People had to rely on social platforms, on which Hasina also cracked down. By shutting down telecommunication and the internet, she turned the country into a giant prison.

Even a curfew could not stem the tide of furious students and citizens in the streets. It was the state’s most savage war on unarmed people, reminiscent of 1971. A recent BBC documentary on the July 2024 movement reveals some of that savagery, especially the police atrocities in Jatrabari. Leaked call records show that Hasina herself ordered police to use lethal weapons. Such barbarity is unthinkable without a top level political order, and that leak now stands as documentary proof.

Meanwhile, some of Hasina’s relatives and cronies hiding at home and abroad, are claiming that it was all fabricated with AI, that the BBC is a British imperialist tool, that the entire movement was an American conspiracy. Her gifted son has “identified” the leaked voice as a 2016 phone call. Hasina’s slaves are busy spreading the story.

One is reminded of the uproar over “mid night voting” in the 2018 election: certain sycophant journalists insisted it was a lie, insisting “Do you have any proof, any photo, any video?” Yet the recently arrested former Chief Election Commissioner Nurul Huda has now admitted in court that the voting was indeed done at night.

The BBC documentary is very professional. The footage of police savagery in Jatrabari is hair raising. With similar investigation the attacks in Badda, Mohammadpur, Uttara and elsewhere could be documented just as vividly, and that is only Dhaka. There were many such assaults across the country. At Jahangirnagar and Rajshahi universities ruling party thugs turned campuses into hell. Many people everywhere recorded these scenes; everyone now carries a phone. Nothing can stay hidden for long.

* Mohiuddin Ahmad is a writer and researcher.​

 

[Saif]

Our dreams are NOT for sale!

Supreme Court Advocate Manzur-al-Matin writes

www.thedailystar.net

Our dreams are NOT for sale!
July uprising 2024

Thousands of people celebrate the ouster of former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina in the streets of Dhaka on August 5, 2024. FILE PHOTO: STAR

July has returned! The depth of gratitude I feel for having survived the previous monsoon is difficult, if not impossible, to express in words. I, along with my wife Sara and so many of our friends who found ourselves united in protest in July 2024, could have easily lost our lives during those fateful days. But we were lucky to have witnessed the fall of the autocrat, the victory of the downtrodden.

Not everyone was that lucky. The men, women, boys and girls whose bodies were riddled with bullets, who were hacked to their deaths, have left a vacuum that can never be filled. The emptiness left behind by Farhan, Snigdho or Saikat is unbearable for their families and will forever remain so.

These brave souls sacrificed everything believing that lasting change is possible—a belief shared by everyone who answered the call of their conscience during the July uprising. I guess challenging times bring out the best in us. Faced with a foe like Sheikh Hasina, solidarity came naturally. But when we managed to put that behind us, things became much more complicated.

Some of the students whose participation and leadership in the July movement made this extraordinary feat possible have now formed their own political party—the National Citizen Party (NCP). Although rifts between its leadership at times become apparent, the latest programme of the party has received a lot of attention. Starting on July 1 this year, the NCP leadership has started a tour of the country, reaching out to the very people whose spontaneous participation in the protests last year created history. In my view, leaving the centre and reaching out to the periphery was a long-owed debt. Without lending an ear to the marginalised, the NCP can never find out what the true nature of their politics should be. The fact that, despite being late, they have taken the initiative gives me hope.

There are factions of the students who are far less organised but crave to have their voices heard. These are the students of universities, both public and private, and the students of schools and colleges. As their dreams fade, they still hold on to the hope that someday they will be given the opportunity to be heard. This is not only the responsibility of the government or the National Consensus Commission, but also of the political parties. The BNP, as the major political force, has arranged a few gatherings for the youth, which is praiseworthy. But instead of sticking to the capital, they need to reach out to the outskirts. In my travels to the remote parts of our beautiful country, I sense a feeling of being forgotten among people there. All the political forces debating the future of our country need to pause for a while and take time to listen carefully to what these voices have to say.

The women who left their homes and workplaces during the monsoon revolution were key to its success. Almost all the women who were at the forefront, braving all odds during the uprising, have faced bullying both online and offline in the aftermath. It is unfortunate that these people often feel left out nowadays. Any reform without their participation is bound to be unsustainable.

Finally, there are people who have placed personal gain over their responsibility to the nation. While we dream about finding a new settlement, with the weight of the sacrifices made by the martyrs upon our shoulders, some of us think it profitable to sell out the revolution itself for meagre personal gains.

The July uprising in Bangladesh is admired by struggling people around the globe. Bangladesh has become a beacon of hope for many of them. Bangladesh has proven that even the mightiest oppressor, with all the state apparatus at her command, is bound to be defeated when the people can break the shackles of fear.

On the other hand, Bangladesh can learn a lot from Sri Lanka, a country which has gone through almost a similar set of events. Lessons must be learnt from the way the liberal and democratic forces there have remained united and secured an impactful political position after the uprising—how they have put their female leadership at the forefront, instead of marginalising them.

Sheikh Hasina failed to realise that the freedom, dignity and aspiration of the people can never be sold. This failure led her, along with the rank and file of the Awami League, to a disgraceful flight on August 5, 2024. Let this be a lesson for those who are treading the same path. I am certain it will not take another 15 years for the people to rise again. Because they know from recent memory that their dreams are NOT for sale. They know how and when to stand up for their freedom, dignity and dreams.

Manzur-al-Matin is an advocate of the Supreme Court and a freelance anchor at Channel 24.​