The most important attribute of a state is its sense of justice. Because the existence of a state is not founded merely on territory—it is founded on people’s trust, confidence, and sense of security.
When even the child of a poor family living in a remote region of a country becomes a victim of injustice, that incident is not just the misfortune of one family—it signals a deep crisis in the state’s moral sense of justice.
Criminals must be arrested—this is a natural rule of law and civilization; but when allegations arise that two major political forces are using the administration to suit their own interests, the matter no longer remains within the bounds of ordinary law enforcement. When the administration loses its neutrality, the application of law turns into a symbol of fear.
After every political change, people cling to hope. Ordinary citizens think—perhaps this time injustice will be reduced. Perhaps the same mistakes of the past will not be repeated.
But if, even after that change, the reality of villages and rural areas remains unchanged—if only the sides switch—and if innocent people continue to be harassed in the same way, then that balloon of hope slowly deflates.
A hopeless society, in the long run, becomes the most dangerous kind of society. There are countless examples of such experiences across the world. In several Latin American countries, although promises were made to reform administrative structures after changes in political power, in reality it has been seen that the police and judicial systems continue to operate under political pressure as before.
In certain regions of Mexico or Brazil, large-scale operations have been carried out in the name of combating crime, but later research revealed that innocent communities also became victims of those operations, leading to a growing loss of public trust in the state.
In some African countries, allegations have emerged of suppressing opposition forces before or after elections; although this may temporarily preserve a balance of power, in the long term it has sown the seeds of political violence.
The abuse of state power is generally harmful in two ways. First, it directly creates injustice in the lives of innocent people. Second, it breeds resentment and distrust deep within society. When a child from a poor family is arbitrarily arrested, the economic and social foundations of that family collapse.
At the same time, neighbors and other members of society come to realize that the protection of the law is not equal for everyone. This realization gradually erodes the moral foundation of the state. History teaches us that politics of revenge can never bring lasting stability.
From the Pakistan period to the decades following independence, this land has repeatedly shown that using administrative power for political purposes provides only temporary advantage; in the long run, it weakens state institutions.
An administration that becomes a tool of one party one day becomes a tool of another party the next. As a result, the state structure slowly drifts toward moral bankruptcy. In the context of Bangladesh, this issue is even more sensitive, because the country’s political history has repeatedly revolved around cycles of revenge and distrust.
In every country, ordinary people primarily want peace and stability. They do not seek refuge in the complexities of political ideology; rather, they want to place their trust in everyday security and the assurance of justice.
When that assurance of justice is undermined, people begin to feel that the state does not belong to them, but is instead being run for the benefit of particular forces.
So the question is: do we want a state that, along with change, begins a new chapter of revenge? Or do we want a state that treats every change as an opportunity to move forward on the path of justice?
We must remember—when the balloon of hope bursts again and again, eventually people stop making new balloons of hope. That is dangerous. Because the state exists for people. People do not exist for the state.
