THE Police Reform Commission once proposed a five-tier model for the use of force in crowd control. The first two stages emphasised non-contact measures — verbal communication, negotiation, and the use of barricades to maintain distance and prevent escalation. The third stage cautiously introduced physical force through non-lethal means: batons, gas sprays, sound grenades, water cannons, tear gas, smoke launchers, stun canisters, soft kinetic projectiles, pepper spray, shotguns (?), and electric pistols.
Later, the home affairs advisor announced that police would no longer carry lethal weapons. However, there has been no official list clarifying what qualifies as lethal and non-/less-lethal weapons. This lack of clarity must be addressed with public pressure on the ministry of home affairs. For instance, if the government attempts to classify pellet guns as non-lethal, there must be a widespread civic response against it. Sapran’s (a right-based think tank) research has already shown the brutal effects of such weapons: Abu Sayed, Tahmid, and many other July protesters lost their lives or eyesight to pellets.
However, when we are talking about use of force, we need to consider three elements that shape how force is used in crowd control: the will of the police officer, the tools they are given, and the training they receive. If we want police to avoid injuring protesters, we must equip them with alternatives to deadly weapons and train them in restraint and de-escalation.
But intent matters too. A theoretically non-lethal rubber bullet becomes lethal when fired at close range and aimed at the eyes, a tactic we saw during the Awami League regime.
A recent viral video showed a police officer dispersing a crowd by hitting electric poles and the road, not people. When asked why he did use such a technique, he replied, ‘My mother told me not to hurt anyone.’ It sounds really wholesome. However, it also raises a question: why must ethical restraint depend on personal upbringing, rather than being standard in police training?
Goodwill alone is not enough. A trained officer must be able to read the situation, predict escalation, and decide how best to intervene. Does current police training in Bangladesh teach these skills? Are officers taught how to apply situational analysis and choose proportionate responses? These are questions related to the second element: ‘skills’.
The recent events in Gopalganj offer an alarming case study. Most major media outlets reported that police appeared unprepared and confused. In some instances, they even lacked adequate ammunition for their weapons. (Though the ministry of home affairs claimed these were non-lethal weapons, we still don’t know what those weapons were — and we need a transparent, independent investigation.) The inability of officers to anticipate and manage a crowd reflects a crisis in preparedness and training. Without those skills, use of excessive force becomes the alternative for the police to take control of the situation. And when you use excessive force, people will get wounded and killed, and human rights will get violated.
More disturbingly, we also saw examples of intentional use of force (violence) at Gopalganj. One APBn officer was filmed slapping an already-detained man. While not lethal, the act revealed a mindset of impunity, one that normalises unnecessary force. So we must acknowledge: both the absence of ethical will and the absence of professional skill drive the abuse of force.
Even when officers possess both goodwill and training, they remain ineffective if they lack the proper tools and equipment. While the Police Reform Commission recommended tools like pepper spray and tasers, we rarely see them in use. What we do see are deadly lethal weapons such as Chinese rifles and shotguns loaded with pellet rounds in the hands of police. Do police in all districts have equal access to protective equipment, body cams, or modern barricade systems? If not, how do we expect consistency in public safety? These are questions that demand public scrutiny.
The procurement details regarding all crowd-control equipment must be made public. We need an independent oversight body composed of human rights defenders, researchers, and civil society actors to monitor these purchases. The excuse of ‘state security’ can no longer justify secretive and unregulated arms procurement. If we are serious about protecting human rights, the state must invest in non-lethal, rights-compliant crowd-control infrastructure.
None of these changes are just technical fixes. They require political consensus and institutional will. Replacing lethal with non-lethal weapons, enforcing oversight mechanisms, training officers in ethics and analysis, allocating a budget for reform, and linking officers promotions to performance, not political lobbying — these are all deeply political decisions.
Yet, the so-called National Consensus Commission has entirely evaded the issue of police reform, a stunning betrayal of the very spirit of July. And they’ve done so without consequence. The saddest part is that police reform will not be part of the July Charter, an epic irony by the very government who claim their legitimacy based on the July uprising.
After Gopalganj, we should have seen calls for accountability — for the ministry of home affairs, the Commission, and all political actors involved. We should have revived the conversation on meaningful police reform. Instead, the issue remains silenced, buried once again.
As a member of the Police Reform Commission, I feel frustrated and defeated. But I also believe this conversation must live on — in the public spheres, classrooms, tea stalls, civil society roundtables, universities and research centres. Let citizens raise their questions. Let activists apply pressure on the government. Let researchers and academics continue their investigations.
Eventually, the deadlock will hopefully break.
Ìý
Md Zarif Rahman is working as the research director at Sapran (Safeguarding All Lives), a rights-based think tank. He was a member and the student representative of the police reform commission.
