September 26, 2025
DHAKA – Bangladesh is currently experiencing a troubling rise in far-right rhetoric. Many try to justify this by pointing to similar trends in India and even Western democracies. However, as someone living in Glasgow, Scotland, I have witnessed a powerful counter-narrative—one that offers hope and inspiration for those who believe in a secular and inclusive Bangladesh.
In the heart of Glasgow city centre, I recently observed a vibrant crowd waving Scottish flags, Palestinian banners, and placards reading “Migrants Make Our NHS,” “Scotland Needs Migrants,” “None of Us Chose Our Place of Birth,” “Stop the Far Right,” and “We All Bleed Red.” The gathering was a peaceful demonstration against far-right ideologies and in support of migrants and refugees. What stood out was the unity across communities—locals and immigrants, young and old—coming together to reject hate. Police and organisers ensured the event remained peaceful, even as a small group of far-right agitators attempted to disrupt it. They were calmly turned away, their divisive message drowned out by the overwhelming call for solidarity.
It is undeniable that far-right movements have gained a grip globally. In India, majoritarian politics have intensified communal divisions. However, the rise of the far-right in India is deeply rooted in its colonial history and has evolved into a domestically grounded ideological framework. Since 1947, India’s right-wing forces have crafted their own narrative, often adjusting their tone to accommodate regional sensitivities. For instance, Prime Minister Narendra Modi, aware of the cultural diversity across India, does not attempt to replicate Gujarat’s political model everywhere. When in West Bengal, he publicly acknowledges figures like Rabindranath Tagore to appeal to local sentiments.
Unlike their counterparts in Bangladesh, Indian far-right leaders rarely seek ideological guidance from abroad. On the other hand, far-right movements in Bangladesh have often been influenced or fueled by external forces, particularly from Pakistan, Afghanistan, and parts of the Middle East. The transnational connections are evident—Bangladeshi Hefazat leaders, for example, have recently visited Afghanistan to reportedly draw “ideological inspiration” from regimes that, in reality, promote religious authoritarianism. This external influence has shaped a more rigid and imported version of far-right politics in Bangladesh, alienating it from its own pluralistic and secular heritage.
Interestingly, when comparisons between India and China arise in Bangladesh, a prominent portion of Gen Z tends to favour China. Yet, paradoxically, many of these same young people are influenced by the rise of fundamentalist politics in India and far-right ideologies in the West. Gen Z in China, however, does not appear to be motivated by global far-right trends, at least in the same way. Their political orientation is shaped more by domestic narratives and state-controlled ideology than by transnational far-right movements. This contrast highlights how external ideological influence plays a more significant role in shaping far-right tendencies in South Asia.
What is often overlooked in Bangladesh’s public discourse is that these far-right surges are not going unchallenged. Across the world, people are standing up for pluralism, tolerance, and human rights. The Glasgow demonstration is just one example showing that the story of our times is not only about the rise of hate, but also about the resilience of hope. Bangladesh’s founding principles were rooted in secularism, linguistic rights, and cultural diversity. The spirits of 1971 Liberation War and 2024 July uprising were of inclusion, not exclusion. Yet today, some seek to rewrite this legacy, using the rise of far-right politics elsewhere as justification for intolerance at home. But should we follow the most divisive examples from abroad? Or should we look to those who are resisting hate, those who refuse to let fear and prejudice define their society?
My personal experience in Scotland is that younger people are more likely to be anti-far-right than older people. Gen Z and millennials are generally more progressive and supportive of diversity. However, in Bangladesh, despite the uprising led by students, Gen Z is often portrayed as leaning towards the far right. I believe this image is misleading. A dysfunctional political culture and limited civic education pushed many young people towards reactionary views, and unfortunately, many of them remain alienated from Bengal’s rich secular history, which must be reclaimed.
The Glasgow rally was a testament to the power of secular values. In Bangladesh, we must reject attempts to pit one group against another, whether based on religion, ethnicity, or political affiliation. By standing up for secularism and inclusion, we can set a positive example for the region and the world.
It is a choice to accept or deny the far-right wave sweeping across Bangladesh that each of us must make, every day, in our words and actions. We can choose to be bystanders, or we can choose to be upstanders. Let us draw inspiration from Glasgow and countless other places where ordinary people are standing up to hate. Let us remember the true spirit of 1971 and the July Declaration.
In every country, the forces of division and exclusion are being met by the forces of hope and inclusion. The question for Bangladesh is simple: which side of history will we choose?
Altaf Russell is a PhD researcher in economics at the University of Glasgow. He can be reached at altafstat71@gmail.com.
Views expressed in this article are the author’s own.