Blasphemy claims, mob justice, state failure: Bangladesh’s Hindu killings

New Delhi: A month can reveal more than a year of official assurances. In December 2025, at least 12 Hindu men were killed across Bangladesh, several in incidents marked by mob violence and extrajudicial punishment, according to the account.

What stood out was not only the number of deaths in a short span, but the recurring pathway described in case after case: allegations that spread rapidly, public anger that organised itself into violence, and the state arriving largely after the fact.

The names listed were Dipu Chandra Das, Amrit Mondal (also known as Samrat), Dilip Bormon, Prantosh Kormokar, Utpol Sarkar, Zogesh Chandra Roy, Suborna Roy, Shanto Das, Ripon Kumar Sarkar, Pratap Chandra, Swadhin Chandra and Polash Chandra.

Each death had a local setting and, in some cases, specific accusations attached to it. Yet, taken together, the cluster fed a wider anxiety: that minority safety becomes fragile when the political temperature rises and institutions struggle to enforce due process at the point where it matters most.

One trigger described repeatedly is the use of blasphemy allegations. The account calls such accusations a potent tool to target Hindus, noting that they can emerge without evidence, formal complaints or investigation, but still set off a chain reaction.

In this telling, the allegation is not just an accusation; it becomes a mechanism for mobilisation, enabling groups to convert outrage into action before authorities can verify facts or separate rumour from reality.

What makes this mechanism particularly destabilising is the speed at which it collapses procedure. The account suggests that, in several instances, mobs replaced lawful arrest and judicial process with instant punishment.

Even when the stated allegation was not religious, when victims were accused of extortion or criminal conduct, the pattern described remains the same: violence delivered outside the law, with a mob acting as the instrument of punishment.

The common consequence is that due process becomes a postscript, not a safeguard.

The killing of Dipu Chandra Das illustrates how quickly that collapse can turn fatal. Das is described as a Hindu garment worker in Mymensingh district.

He was accused of making derogatory remarks about Islam during a workplace event. The description that follows is a stark account of mob brutality: he was assaulted, tied to a tree, hanged and set on fire.

Investigators later stated that no direct evidence of blasphemy was found.

The significance of that detail is obvious. When evidence is absent but punishment is irreversible, the fear is not confined to one family or one neighbourhood; it becomes community-wide.

The case of Amrit Mondal in Rajbari district is cited in a different register, showing how narratives harden after a death.

The account says authorities later emphasised an alleged criminal background to dismiss a communal angle.

But it argues that this focus on background does not answer the central concern raised by mob killings: why the accused was not processed through lawful arrest and trial.

The anxiety, as framed, is about the reliability of the state as the final arbiter, especially for minorities, when public punishment becomes normalised.

Beyond individual cases, the month’s violence is linked to a broader political and administrative strain. The account situates the killings amid protests and political instability that it says stretched law enforcement and administrative capacity across multiple districts.

In such periods, policing often shifts to managing crowds, protecting high-risk zones and responding to immediate flashpoints. The risk, implied here, is that localised threats, especially those fuelled by rumour, are not contained early, allowing them to metastasise into crowd violence.

Within that environment, the account says Hindu communities become disproportionately exposed during unrest, either because hostility is organised or because minorities are perceived as lacking political protection.

The account also ties the violence to the evolution of religious identity as a political instrument. It describes radical Islamist groups and affiliates, including student organisations, as using religious nationalism to mobilise support ahead of elections.

The claim is not simply that politics is polarised, but that identity mobilisation lowers the cost of targeting minorities, turning them into convenient symbols during moments of heightened contestation.

There is also a wider ideological frame offered. The account says communal bigotry has hardened over time and that radicalism has found space in the socio-political fabric.

It argues that anti-India rhetoric has contributed to the atmosphere in which minorities live, recasting hostility toward Hindus as a form of ideological resistance.

It further suggests that narratives around reform and student-led movements can be “instrumentalised” to advance radical agendas and provide cover for extremist mobilisation.

Whether one accepts every element of that framing or not, the month’s death toll underscores how ideology can become operational on the street when institutions fail to intervene early.

On the state’s response, the interim government led by Mohammad Yunus is said to have condemned the killings and reiterated opposition to mob justice.

Arrests followed some incidents.

But the argument presented is that condemnation and reactive policing do not rebuild trust unless they translate into preventive action, rapid intervention and consistent accountability.

This is where the “pattern” claim becomes sharper. The account does not treat December as a freak month. It presents repetition as the core story: repeated allegations, repeated mobs, repeated deaths and repeated official assurances that do not change outcomes.

Unless allegations, whether religious or criminal, are handled through lawful mechanisms and minorities are protected irrespective of political expediency, the cycle will persist.

The deeper question here is institutional: can the state reassert that law, not rumour, decides guilt; can it prevent mobs from becoming a parallel system; and can it reassure minorities that protection is not conditional on political convenience.