Md. Kamal Uddin Editorial | Daily Tourist Newspaper | Chatral Chitra | Daily Bhorer Awaaz
There are moments in the history of a state when words are no longer just words—they become sighs, tears, curses, and a terrible warning left for the future. The open letter from a group of police officers who have been tortured, imprisoned, suspended, and harassed recently reached the police headquarters is just such a document of a time. This letter is not just a defense of a few accused officers. It is a heartbreaking history of fear, uncertainty, political abuse, the cruelty of power, and the humiliation of colleagues at the hands of colleagues accumulated within the state system . Reading the letter, it seems that some tired people are crying from behind the iron fence, saying, “Is our crime only to follow orders?” This question is not only of the police. This question is of every level of the state. This question belongs to those people who, while turning the wheels of power, eventually get crushed by those wheels themselves. The cry uttered at the beginning of the letter moves the heart of any sensitive person – “The chair you are sitting in today, we were there one day…” Those who were once the OCs of the police station, in charge of the district, and who worked day and night to protect state security – today they are the accused in handcuffs. Those who were saluted in front of them, today they are crying in the courtroom to prove their innocence. What a cruel time this is! What a terrible outcome! The history of power changes is not new in Bangladesh. But every time it is seen – with the change of power, the language of loyalty changes, the definition of responsibility changes. Those who were trusted officials of the state yesterday, today they are accused in the eyes of the state. Those whose orders were followed yesterday as a state duty, today those orders have become evidence of a crime. In this reality, the much-discussed “chain of command” topic comes up in the letter. Police officers claim that they only followed the orders of higher authorities. The question is – how independent is an official working in the state apparatus? If you disobey an order, you will be punished, and if you obey an order, you will be in prison—so where is the path ahead of them? The state must answer this question. Because if the state only makes scapegoats for the weak, then eventually a culture of fear and distrust will be born within the entire system. The part of the letter that hurts the most is the part where it is written to colleagues— “Crows don’t eat crows’ meat, but why are policemen hitting their own brothers with axes?” This one sentence seems to symbolize the internal disintegration of the entire force. When a police officer looks at another police officer and feels fear, not security—then you have to understand that the crisis is not just administrative, it is a moral crisis. Uniforms were once a symbol of pride.
Today, that uniform has become a symbol of fear, suspicion and revenge. Those who feel safe in the corridors of power should also remember that history never stands still. Power is like the flow of a river; today here, tomorrow somewhere else. Yet, documents of injustice, false cases, fabricated charge sheets and the cries of innocent people remain in the pages of history. The most terrifying aspect of this letter is that it has nakedly exposed the crisis of trust within the police. When people are in danger, they call the police. But when the police themselves are in danger, to whom do they go? The letter reads, “The police are for everyone, but no one is for the police.” There is an infinite loneliness within this sentence. A policeman may have spent the best times of his life on duty. He could not give time to his family on Eid, could not go out with his children, and performed his duties night after night. Yet today, that same man may be sitting in a dark cell in prison wondering whether the state has only used him? This question is terrifying. Because when trust in the state is broken, the biggest loss is to the state. It cannot be claimed that all those imprisoned today are innocent. It cannot be said that all are criminals. But the main condition of justice is that justice must be impartial, free from revenge, and humane. If justice becomes a weapon of political revenge, then the truth is lost there, and new injustices are born. The culture of using the police force for politics is very old. Whoever comes to power wants to use the force as he wants. But history is witness—politicians change with time, governments change, flags change; whereas the wounds of state institutions remain for many years. Ordinary officials and employees bear the scars of that wound. The police officer who is in prison today may have risked his life for the state a few years ago. Maybe he participated in an anti-terror operation, maybe he risked his life to prevent political violence. But today he is alone. There is no state by his side, no colleagues, no powerful people whose orders he once blindly followed. This is like a cruel game of power – a game of throwing people away after use. This letter is a big warning for the future. If the state makes its forces only a political tool, then someday terrible disappointment, anger and division will arise from within that force. And when the morale of the law enforcers is broken, the entire state becomes weak. Today, what is needed is not revenge – justice. What is needed is not revenge – uncovering the truth. What is needed is not pitting a colleague against a colleague – building a humane state. Because people do not forget. The tears shed in the darkness of prison will one day become the language of history. Every document of injustice will one day appear in the court of conscience. Maybe many years later, a young police officer will read this letter. Maybe a researcher will return to this document while writing the history of the state. Maybe a mother will cry while hugging her police child – thinking that the man behind the uniform may also become helpless one day. And then history will probably write – there was a time when people were afraid of people within the state. There was a time when tears were hidden inside the uniform. There was a time when colleagues were humiliated by their colleagues. And one of the most heartbreaking documents of that time was— “Today I am in the dock, tomorrow maybe you are.”