Two days ago, the Inspector General of Police made a remark that was, by any reasonable standard, reckless. He indicated that if the government permitted it, the police would restart “crossfire.” The implication was clear: either the authorities were being invited to authorise extrajudicial killings, or the police were signalling their readiness to carry them out on demand.
Crossfire has long functioned in Bangladesh as a euphemism for planned murder. Countless people have been told they would be subjected to it; many have later described how they were held and informed that an order for crossfire had already been given. The number of such victims over the years runs into the hundreds of thousands.
The two main police associations—the Bangladesh Police Service Association (representing cadre officers) and the Bangladesh Police Association (representing non-cadre personnel)—issued separate statements defending the IGP. Both claimed the media had distorted his words and presented the remark as a “timely call” to strengthen the force’s capacity for crime control and public safety. One association even offered journalists unsolicited advice on how to report statements, warning against relying on “isolated portions” of remarks. This is striking.
When police officers themselves apply force, they rarely seek external tutorials on method. Journalists already know their responsibilities; they also know that deliberate misreporting carries legal consequences. The associations’ real purpose was transparent: to demonstrate loyalty to the IGP rather than to the law.
The government itself has not endorsed the statement. The Prime Minister’s information adviser, Dr. Zahidur Rahman, observed that the IGP had attempted to correct his mistake through a subsequent clarification and reiterated that the government does not support crossfire. He added that a final position might be taken after the Prime Minister’s return from Japan.
The clarification issued by the IGP’s office, however, avoided any plain admission of error; it merely characterised the original wording as figurative.
BNP’s acting secretary-general, Ruhul Kabir Rizvi, described the remark as deeply embarrassing and worrying for the current government and expressed anger and condemnation. Jamaat-e-Islami called it a clear violation of service rules.
Human-rights organisations, including Transparency International Bangladesh, labelled it an extreme breach of law and the Constitution. Article 31 of the Constitution explicitly protects life and personal liberty and prohibits treatment that endangers life or dignity.
The Home Minister, Salahuddin Ahmed, was more direct still: the IGP is an ordinary person. His statement was “completely wrong” and reflected “careless choice of words.” The government, he said, maintains zero tolerance for extrajudicial killings.
Thus the official political response has been rejection, while sections of the police hierarchy have rushed to offer public support. This is the classic “yes, sir” reflex. If the IGP faces any disciplinary consequence, those same voices will almost certainly change their tune. The pattern is not confined to the police. Across the bureaucracy and within political parties, subordinates routinely treat every utterance of a superior as binding, regardless of its legality or wisdom.
After the mass uprising of 2024, many declared that unjust orders should no longer be obeyed. The principle is simple: the Constitution and the law sit above any individual, however senior. Courtesy toward a superior is one thing; active propaganda in defence of an unlawful or unconstitutional remark is another.
The IGP has not himself acknowledged that the original statement was wrong. Silence, combined with supportive statements from the associations, leaves the impression that institutional loyalty is being prioritised over institutional integrity.
Democracy cannot take root while large parts of the administration and the political class remain governed by this mentality. Officers and activists need not be rude to their superiors; they need only refuse to amplify what they know, or ought to know, is unlawful.
Technical compliance with illegal instructions, or public defence of them, is not neutrality—it is complicity.
Until the “yes, sir” culture is replaced by a culture of lawful obedience, claims about establishing the rule of law will remain largely rhetorical. That shift is not optional; it is the practical foundation of the democratic order that the country claims to be building.
Masood Kamal: Senior journalist and columnist