OVER the past year, an unsettling pattern has emerged in the landscape of justice. Serious criminal charges, particularly murder, assault, extortion and sedition, are filed not solely in pursuit of justice but, increasingly, as instruments of coercion, retaliation and harassment. The right to legal recourse, a fundamental pillar of any democratic society, is now at the risk of being distorted into a weapon of intimidation.
This trend is not speculative. It is visible, documented and deeply troubling. Cases are filed in large numbers, often naming individuals who are either entirely uninvolved or completely incapable of committing the alleged offence. Reports have surfaced of elderly individuals, chronically ill patients, people hospitalised or bedridden and, in some instances, even those with severe disabilities being listed as prime accused in criminal cases. The human toll of such misuses of the legal system is profound and far-reaching.
Of course, not all accused are innocent. That would be an equally dangerous generalisation. But the growing concern across legal and civil society is whether听all听those being accused, especially of grave criminal charges, are, indeed, involved in such actions or whether they are victims of a justice system being manipulated for extrajudicial ends.
The problem is not limited to the content of the accusations alone. The process of filing first information reports is fraught with ambiguities and misuse. In many cases, plaintiffs file complaints against not only specific individuals but also a long list of unnamed people, described as 鈥榦thers,鈥� creating room for anyone to be arbitrarily implicated later. This open-ended structure is not new in judicial tradition, but its abuse has intensified in recent times, coinciding with political shifts.
Law enforcement officers and legal practitioners are not oblivious to this trend. As recently acknowledged by a senior legal adviser of the state during the National Legal Aid Day observance, 鈥楾here is no restriction in the law anywhere in Bangladesh in filing a case. Anyone can file a case.鈥� While this statement reflects the liberal procedural framework designed to ensure access to justice, it also unintentionally exposes a critical vulnerability: the absence of preliminary checks on the veracity of complaints.
The adviser further lamented that many of the cases being filed are 鈥榟arassing and hateful,鈥� noting that after the cases are registered, efforts are often made to mitigate the damage through police and judicial intervention. However, as he rightly observed, the harm inflicted in the interim, through arrest, social stigma, legal costs and psychological distress, is often irreversible. In legal theory, the presumption of innocence is a bedrock principle. But in reality, the accusation becomes a form of punishment.
Globally, legal systems have struggled with the dangers of false accusations and the damage that they inflict on both individuals and institutions. Famed British jurist William Blackstone once said, 鈥業t is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer.鈥� This principle underpins modern criminal jurisprudence, yet in many cases in Bangladesh today, we seem to be moving in the opposite direction: sacrificing the innocent in the name of expedient accusations.
In the United States, the misuse of legal complaints has been met with increasing institutional scrutiny. In cases where false accusations have led to wrongful imprisonment, civil suits and criminal penalties against the accusers are often pursued vigorously. In the United Kingdom, high-profile false accusation cases such as that of Carl Beech, whose fabricated abuse claims triggered widespread police investigations, resulted in the accuser being sentenced to 18 years in prison for perverting the course of justice. Such accountability mechanisms are designed not only to punish false complainants but also to preserve the integrity of the justice system itself.
In Bangladesh, however, the legal safeguards against false accusations are rarely invoked. Yet, the laws do exist. Section 250 of the Code of Criminal Procedure allows a magistrate to impose compensation on a complainant if the court finds the complaint to be false or frivolous and the accused is acquitted. Furthermore, Section 211 of the Penal Code criminalises the act of falsely charging a person with a serious offence, providing for imprisonment of up to two years and a fine of up to Tk 1 lakh. The provisions are clear in theory but rarely applied in practice.
This legal inertia has dangerous consequences. First, it undermines public trust in the judiciary. When false cases are seen to go unchecked, it creates the perception that the legal system is arbitrary or even complicit. Second, it burdens an already overextended judicial infrastructure. Bangladesh鈥檚 court system is struggling under the weight of a staggering case backlog 鈥� more than four million cases are pending at various stages of the judiciary. The addition of frivolous, politically motivated, or baseless cases only adds to this crisis, delaying justice for those with legitimate claims.
As William Ewart Gladstone, the former British prime minister, famously warned in the House of Commons, 鈥楯ustice delayed is justice denied.鈥� When frivolous cases congest the system, they do not only harm the innocent accused but also deprive he victims of timely justice. The efficiency of justice cannot be divorced from its fairness.
There is also a growing psychological and social dimension to this problem. Being accused of a serious crime, especially in a politically charged environment, carries a permanent stain, regardless of the eventual verdict. Many individuals lose their jobs, are socially ostracised or face personal and financial ruin while merely undergoing trial. The acquittal, when it eventually comes years later, is often too little, too late. The trauma remains and the damage is done.
The press, civil society, and academic institutions must play a role in creating awareness of the issue. Legal education needs to emphasise not only the rights of complainants but also the responsibilities. Filing a case is a serious legal action, not a tactical move in personal disputes or political vendettas. Citizens must be aware that the right to legal recourse is not a right to inflict harm in the guise of justice.
The judiciary, too, must be empowered to take proactive steps. Faster disposal of false or non-meritorious cases at the preliminary hearing stage, the imposition of penalties under Section 250 and 211 and the publicising of such enforcement actions can act as deterrents. Police officers should be trained and directed to exercise caution in arrests, especially in cases where there are clear signs of exaggeration or implausibility.
Moreover, the home affairs ministry must strengthen its directive that no arrest should be made unless there is clear evidence substantiating the allegations. This guidance has been repeated several times, but it must be institutionalised and enforced consistently. Law enforcement should not feel pressured to act on politically sensitive cases without adequate verification.
Justice is not just about punishing the guilty. It is about protecting the innocent. A society that cannot safeguard its citizens from wrongful prosecution cannot call itself just. If we continue to allow the legal process to be weaponised, we risk eroding the very credibility of our courts and the constitution that upholds them.
Justice is not a luxury. It is a necessity. And, its credibility depends not only on punishing those who break the law but also on ensuring that the law itself is not misused to break lives.
The time has come for serious national introspection. We must collectively ask: is our justice system protecting the weak and punishing the wicked? Or, is it becoming an instrument of fear and manipulation? Until we address this question with honesty and resolve, the rule of law will remain under siege.
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HM Nazmul Alam is a lecturer in English and modern languages, IUBAT.
