A century is not a very long period of time; yet in this one century, the world has changed in ways that are unprecedented in the history of human civilization.
During the first half of the last century, the powerful states of Europe were busy seizing colonies, expanding their dominance, and destroying one another in two world wars.
Meanwhile, hundreds of millions of people in Asia, Africa, and Latin America were living in poverty, illiteracy, disease, and backwardness. The lives of the people of our own land were also part of that reality.
Then the world changed. Science has increased human life expectancy, provided weapons in the fight against disease, and virtually erased the distances of communication.
Electricity, computers, mobile phones, the internet—and finally artificial intelligence—have transformed human life in ways that would have seemed almost like fiction to people living 100 years ago. Bangladesh is no exception to this transformation.
Today, even people in villages have smartphones, and news from any corner of the world can reach them within moments. Yet there is one uncomfortable question we cannot avoid: Have we really become civilized?
The reality of Bangladesh offers no easy answer to this question. Governments have changed at different times, and political slogans have changed; but the tendency toward violence, vengeance, and intolerance among people has not changed.
According to Ain o Salish Kendra, at least 197 people were killed in mob violence in 2025. In the same year, according to the Human Rights Support Society, 133 people were killed and 7,511 injured in 914 incidents of political violence.
In just the first six months of the current year, 2026, the organization recorded 133 deaths in 261 incidents of mob violence. There is no end to the number of assaults and cases filed.
Are these merely statistics? Every number represents a person, a family, an unfinished life. Even more alarming is that, in many cases, people are being punished at the hands of angry mobs without verifying the truth of the allegations, allowing due judicial process, or giving the accused an opportunity to defend themselves.
We have not learned to see political opponents simply as opponents; we have learned to see them as enemies. Instead of confronting differences of opinion with reason, there is a tendency to insult or suppress those who disagree.
Tensions arise around religious identity, rumors spread instantly through social media, and minorities and vulnerable people live with insecurity. At times, cultural institutions, the media, and voices of dissent also become targets of public anger.
Yet this was not the dream of our independence. Those who gave their lives in the struggle for the freedom of the people of this land did not aspire merely to a flag or a map.
They wanted a society in which human dignity would be upheld, the rule of law would prevail, people would have the right to stand against injustice, and those with differing opinions would be engaged in dialogue rather than being eliminated.
Today, we possess technology capable of delivering a message to hundreds of millions of people within seconds; but has our conscience developed at the same speed when it comes to distinguishing truth from falsehood?
We are giving our children the latest technologies; but are we teaching them to respect others, listen to opposing views, and choose reason over anger?
The measure of a civilization is how safe the vulnerable are, how freely people with differing opinions can speak, how secure minority citizens feel, and how safe an accused person is in the hands of the law rather than at the hands of a mob.
There is no doubt that we have become modern; but modernity and civilization are not the same thing.
That is why, so many years after independence, we cannot avoid the question: Will we ever be able to build the healthy, just, and tolerant society that people sacrificed their lives for in their dream of independence?
That is the billion-taka question today.