How Yunus’s regime has driven Bangladeshi Army towards internal rift and radicalisation

Bangladesh’s armed forces are facing one of the deepest crises in their history. On Wednesday, October 22, 2025, Bangladesh’s International Crimes Tribunal sent 15 serving military officers to jail to face trial on charges of enforced disappearances, murders, and custodial torture during then-Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s regime, raising fears of ideological infiltration, political manipulation, and growing foreign influence. What was once a quiet discontent inside the barracks has now erupted into a public crisis that could reshape not only the future of the Bangladesh Army but also regional stability in South Asia.

Fractured Command and Competing Factions

The immediate controversy stems from two long-pending cases of alleged enforced disappearances and torture dating back to the previous regime. The International Crimes Tribunal (ICT) has demanded their transfer to civilian jurisdiction, while the army insists that any proceedings must remain under military law. This disagreement has opened an unprecedented institutional rift.

Chief of Army Staff General Waker-Uz-Zaman has attempted to balance competing camps within the institution, but his neutrality has backfired. Officers privately complain that his indecision has blurred the chain of command. Traditionally unified and professional, the army now appears split into three broad camps: a reformist faction seeking institutional modernisation, an Islamist-leaning bloc with ideological ties to Jamaat-e-Islami, and a smaller but vocal group that continues to champion the spirit of the 1971 Liberation War.

Analysts in Dhaka and New Delhi note that these divisions mirror the broader struggle for Bangladesh’s political soul, between secular nationalism and resurgent Islamist politics. Reports circulating among think tanks and intelligence observers suggest that Jamaat-e-Islami, aided indirectly by Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), is quietly rebuilding influence within parts of the military. While such allegations remain unverified, the perception alone has deepened mistrust within the ranks, turning ideological suspicion into a daily operational reality.

Political Vacuum and Regional Ripples

The timing of the arrests has also fuelled speculation. For months, the army had been preparing to assist in the upcoming national elections, possibly under a neutral caretaker arrangement. But those plans were abruptly shelved. Sources point to political pressure and the growing clout of Islamist-leaning extremist officers as reasons behind the withdrawal. The military’s perceived retreat from a stabilising role has unsettled both the public and foreign partners who once viewed it as the last bastion of order in Dhaka’s volatile politics.

The situation has drawn sharp attention from India. New Delhi has long relied on a stable and professional Bangladeshi army to secure its eastern frontier and prevent cross-border extremist movements. Any ideological drift or foreign influence within the force could directly impact India’s security calculus in the Northeast and along the Bay of Bengal. Indian officials, while publicly cautious, are watching the developments with concern, aware that instability in Dhaka could ripple across borders through migration surges, radical propaganda, and disrupted trade routes.

Once regarded as the most trusted national institution by the Bangladeshi nationals, the military now faces allegations of corruption, tender manipulation, and political favouritism. Its repeated involvement in administrative and policing duties over the past few years has blurred the line between soldier and bureaucrat. Many citizens complain that soldiers now act as enforcers for political factions rather than protectors of the state. The uniform that once commanded pride is increasingly associated with fear and resentment.

A senior officer, speaking anonymously to a Dhaka daily, lamented that the army “once stood as the shield of the nation, but now that shield has turned inward.” He described how soldiers are seen escorting political thugs, guarding unlawful rallies, and ignoring mob violence. “The barracks,” he said, “have become breeding grounds for corruption, and the uniform that once inspired pride now evokes mistrust.” Such words capture the depth of internal disillusionment spreading across the ranks.

For the interim government led by Chief Advisor Muhammad Yunus, the challenge is immense. His administration has refrained from direct intervention, stating that the prosecutor’s office has no plans for additional warrants. Yet his deafening silence has fuelled speculation that the military is being left to fight its own internal battle. Officers loyal to the Liberation War tradition have expressed willingness to meet Yunus, seeking moral clarity and reassurance that the state still values their service. So far, those requests remain unanswered.

The real danger lies not only in the arrests or ideological divisions but in the erosion of moral authority. A force that loses public trust and internal unity ceases to be a pillar of national defence. If the army continues to split along political and religious lines, it could create a vacuum that extremist elements would gladly fill. Some even fear the emergence of new militia-like groups, “new Razakars”, as one commentator put it, that could attempt to rewrite the history and ideals of 1971 from within the very institution born out of that struggle.

For India, this unfolding crisis is more than a neighbour’s internal affair. A fragmented Bangladesh Army increases the risk of instability along one of South Asia’s most sensitive borders. It could weaken joint counter-terrorism cooperation, embolden radical networks, and complicate regional projects like Bimstec and coastal security coordination. New Delhi’s strategic community sees in Dhaka’s turmoil a warning of how quickly military politicisation can unravel decades of progress in civil-military balance.

Eroding Public Trust

At home, public confidence in the army is diminishing. Once regarded as Bangladesh’s most respected national institution, it now faces allegations of corruption, procurement manipulation, and political favouritism. Years of involvement in policing and administrative functions have blurred the distinction between soldier and bureaucrat. Citizens increasingly see uniformed personnel as political enforcers rather than neutral protectors.

The army that once stood as the shield of the nation has now turned that shield against itself. Soldiers escorting political activists, guarding unauthorised rallies, and ignoring mob violence, he said, have eroded the dignity once associated with the uniform. His remarks capture a sense of moral fatigue that now pervades the barracks.

Why Yunus Was a Contested Choice

The crisis has also laid bare the growing disillusionment with Chief Advisor Muhammad Yunus. His appointment, once hailed by Western capitals as a symbol of democratic renewal, has instead turned into a lesson in how moral prestige can mask political opportunism. For many Bangladeshis, Yunus was never the nation’s conscience. Forced retirement from Grameen Bank, Yunus has harboured political aspirations cloaked in the language of reform. Those ambitions, critics argue, have finally materialised under the banner of regime change, engineered with quiet encouragement from his well-placed friends in Washington and European circles eager to reset Dhaka’s power balance.

Yunus’s selection as interim head was less about consensus and more about convenience. Western diplomacy saw in Yunus a familiar, manageable face, one who could deliver legitimacy abroad while keeping domestic institutions subdued. But the experiment has backfired. Far from bringing stability, Yunus’s tenure has deepened fissures within the civil and military establishment. His global acclaim in microfinance and social innovation has offered little substance in the unforgiving arena of national governance. Lacking political foresight, statecraft experience, and command authority, Yunus has presided over drift rather than direction, allowing institutions of power to operate without cohesion or clarity.

What has truly inflamed public anger, however, is his leniency towards extremist networks. Under the guise of reconciliation and “restoringbalance”, Yunus’s administration has quietly facilitated the release of several controversial Islamist figures from detention, including Jasimuddin Rahamani , founder of the Ansar Ullah Bangla Team, an organisation long linked to violent radicalism.

This move, viewed as a concession to Islamist pressure groups and an appeasement of Jamaat-e-Islami sympathisers within the bureaucracy, has horrified Bangladesh’s pro-Liberation intelligentsia and security veterans. For them, it signals a dangerous moral surrender, the replacement of justice with expediency, and of national security with transactional politics.

Yunus’s critics also note that his government’s rhetoric of transparency masks a web of personal and political debts. His inner circle, populated by former NGO associates and Western policy advisers, remains detached from the realities of Bangladesh’s streets and barracks. The result is an administration long on speeches but short on control, adrift between foreign expectations and domestic distrust.

Beyond these ideological and ethical lapses lies a deeper structural paralysis. Meanwhile, repeated delays in announcing the election schedule have further eroded public trust. Though Yunus promised free and fair polls, citizens now see his government as indecisive, isolated, and increasingly out of touch with the nation’s pulse.

Many in Dhaka now openly say what diplomats concede in private: that Yunus was not the healer Bangladesh needed but the catalyst its rivals desired. His leadership has neither united the country nor neutralised its crises; it has simply traded one form of control for another, leaving a wounded nation to fend for itself amid uncertainty and disillusionment.

Thus, Bangladesh’s greatest danger today does not come from its borders, but from within its barracks, as the Bangladesh Army, once a proud symbol of national strength, has now reduced itself to the stature of an Ansar Bahini, a term colloquially used to describe little more than village watchmen.

Under Yunus’s weak and misguided interim rule, the once-disciplined Bangladesh Army now stands divided, torn between secular patriots, political opportunists, and Islamist sympathisers. This fracture has not only crippled the chain of command but also shattered the institution that once upheld the nation’s unity and sovereignty.

By releasing extremists and undermining military integrity, Yunus has opened the door for forces that thrive on chaos. If this division deepens, Bangladesh risks losing the very guardians of its independence to the same ideology it once fought against. For India, a fractured Bangladeshi army means an unstable frontier, and for South Asia, it means the return of the very instability that progress and partnership had kept at bay.

Sreoshi Sinha is a senior fellow at CENJOWS. Abu Obaidha Arin teaches at the University of Delhi. The views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the authors. They do not necessarily reflect Firstpost’s views.