In moments of national shock, blame travels faster than facts. When violence erupts during a political transition, the instinct to look outward is understandable. External actors offer a simple explanation for complex breakdowns. They also offer emotional relief. Yet in fragile political environments, externalising blame often does more harm than good. It delays reform, weakens accountability, and ultimately prolongs instability.
The recent spate of political violence in Bangladesh illustrates this dilemma with uncomfortable clarity. The killing of Sharif Osman Hadi in Dhaka, followed days later by the shooting of student leader Motaleb Shikder in Khulna, points to a crisis that is spreading rather than resolving. When violence recurs across locations and actors, the question that matters most is not who can be blamed rhetorically but which explanation best fits the pattern.
Post-transition periods are inherently unstable in Bangladesh. Authority is contested, institutions are recalibrating, and political incentives are in flux. In such moments, uncertainty lowers the cost of disruption. Groups that might otherwise remain marginal sense opportunity. Rival factions test boundaries. Spoilers—actors who benefit from disorder—move quickly, precisely because the system is least prepared to respond decisively.
In this context, blaming external forces can be politically tempting. It simplifies the narrative. It converts institutional weakness into national victimhood. It deflects uncomfortable questions about enforcement gaps, political restraint, and internal discipline. But convenience should not be confused with accuracy.
Externalising blame carries a hidden cost: it postpones internal correction. When violence is framed primarily as something imposed from outside, attention shifts away from domestic reforms that are urgently needed. Investigative failures are excused. Policing lapses are normalised. Political actors become less inclined to restrain their supporters, confident that responsibility can be displaced.
Over time, this dynamic erodes institutional credibility. Citizens lose faith in the state’s ability to protect them or deliver justice. Each unresolved incident becomes a precedent, teaching perpetrators that violence can be absorbed into the political system without consequence. The cycle deepens.
There is also a strategic cost. External blame tends to harden positions. It reduces the space for political compromise by recasting internal disputes as existential threats. Once conflicts are framed in these terms, moderation becomes politically risky. Leaders who call for restraint appear weak or naïve. Escalation, by contrast, is rewarded.
This is particularly damaging in societies with strong traditions of street mobilisation. When political legitimacy is contested on the streets as much as at the ballot box, symbolic acts of violence take on disproportionate weight. They become reference points for mobilisation, grievance, and identity. Externalising blame in such settings amplifies emotion without addressing the cause.
None of this suggests that external actors are irrelevant. Volatile political environments are always vulnerable to opportunistic exploitation. Disinformation spreads more easily when trust is low. Ideological alignment across borders can reinforce narratives that deepen polarisation. But exploitation thrives precisely because internal vulnerabilities already exist. Treating external influence as the primary cause risks mistaking acceleration for origin.
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The distinction matters. When policymakers conflate exploitation with execution, they misallocate attention and resources. Efforts that should focus on restoring investigative credibility, depoliticising enforcement, and disciplining political actors are redirected toward rhetorical confrontation. The result is strategic drift.
Bangladesh’s stabilisation will not be achieved through narrative certainty alone. It requires institutional repair at a moment when institutions are under strain. That work is slow and politically costly. It demands transparency in investigations, restraint from political leadership, and a clear signal that violence will not be tolerated regardless of affiliation.
Avoiding this reckoning comes at a price. Political violence becomes normalised. Each incident raises the threshold for outrage. Citizens adapt to insecurity, and adaptation should never be mistaken for resilience. Over time, the political system becomes more brittle, not more stable.
There is also a longer-term risk. When internal failures are consistently attributed to external forces, the state’s capacity to learn diminishes. Policy becomes reactive rather than corrective. The same vulnerabilities recur because they are never fully acknowledged.
Stability, when it returns, will not be the product of blaming the right outsider. It will be the result of confronting uncomfortable internal truths. The crisis of Bangladesh is not unique in this respect. History shows that societies emerging from political upheaval stabilise fastest when they resist the urge to displace responsibility and instead invest in accountability at home. Blame can unify in the short term. Reform is harder. But only one of these paths leads to durable recovery.
