Bangladesh is not merely facing a rise in rape cases. It is facing a collapse of moral courage, administrative responsibility and social conscience. The recently published Bangladesh Perspective study on the country’s rape crisis is not just another human rights document. It is an indictment of a state that has failed to protect women and children, and of a society that too often protects shame, silence and power instead of victims.
The report, titled “Bangladesh’s Rape Epidemic: A Government Failed Its Women and Children Amid Soaring Rape Crisis,” presents a devastating picture: women and children are unsafe in streets, villages, homes, schools and even institutions that claim to provide moral or religious education. It argues that sexual violence has moved beyond isolated criminality and has become a national emergency rooted in impunity, weak policing, delayed justice and social decay.
The numbers alone should shake the conscience of the nation. Bangladesh Mahila Parishad documented 786 rape and gang rape victims in 2025, compared with 516 in 2024, a 52.3 percent increase. Of the 2025 victims, 543 were girls under 18, meaning nearly 70 percent were minors. Police headquarters data separately recorded 7,068 rape cases in 2025, up from 5,570 in 2024, a rise of more than 27 percent.
The crisis did not stop with the end of 2025. Ain o Salish Kendra (ASK) documented 35 rape cases in January 2026 alone, including 25 single rape cases and 10 gang rape cases. Thirteen victims were aged 12 or younger, two victims were murdered after rape, and one suicide was linked to rape, according to ASK’s January documentation.
These are not cold statistics. Each number is a broken child, a shattered family, a terrified mother, a silenced survivor and a community forced to live with fear. Behind every reported case are many more that never reach a police station because families fear stigma, retaliation, political pressure, social isolation and endless humiliation inside the justice system.
That is why this crisis cannot be dismissed as a law-and-order problem alone. It is a governance failure. It is a justice failure. It is also a social failure.
The government’s usual language — “zero tolerance,” “stern action,” “no offender will be spared” — has become painfully hollow. A state cannot claim moral authority while women and children are attacked with such regularity. A government cannot call itself functional when children are unsafe in schools, madrasas, streets and homes. The first duty of any government is to protect the vulnerable. On that basic test, Bangladesh is failing.
The Bangladesh Perspective report correctly identifies the gap between official rhetoric and brutal reality. The state reacts after public outrage. It issues statements after social media explodes. It promises action after a case becomes politically embarrassing. But governance is not press-release management. Governance means prevention, protection, investigation, prosecution and justice. It means ensuring that perpetrators know punishment is certain. In Bangladesh, too many offenders appear to believe the opposite.
This culture of impunity is the engine of the rape crisis. When perpetrators believe they can escape through political connections, local influence, intimidation, bribery, community pressure or delayed trials, they become bolder. When survivors are blamed instead of believed, crimes are buried. When police delay filing cases or conduct weak investigations, justice is weakened from the beginning. When trials drag on for years, punishment loses its deterrent value. When society asks what the victim was wearing, where she was going, why she was outside, or whether the family should “settle,” the criminal wins before the trial begins.
UNICEF sounded a similar alarm in March 2025. Rana Flowers, UNICEF representative to Bangladesh, said in a public statement from Dhaka that she was “profoundly horrified by the alarming rise in reported cases of sexual violence against children, especially girls, in Bangladesh.” She also expressed concern that such violence was occurring “in places meant to protect and nurture children like educational institutions.”
That statement should have triggered a national reckoning. Instead, Bangladesh moved into 2026 with the crisis worsening.
The most disturbing part of the Bangladesh Perspective report is the targeting of children. A society that cannot protect its children has lost its moral foundation. The report says nearly 70 percent of rape victims documented by Bangladesh Mahila Parishad in 2025 were girls under 18. In January 2026, ASK found that 13 of the 35 rape victims were aged 12 or younger.
This is not merely violence against women. It is violence against childhood itself. It is an assault on the future of the nation.
The crisis also exposes the hypocrisy of a society that loudly speaks of honor but often abandons survivors. Bangladesh’s so-called social honor is too frequently used as a weapon against victims. Families are pressured to stay silent. Survivors are forced to carry shame that belongs to the perpetrators. Communities often protect powerful men, teachers, local activists, employers or religious figures while the victim is treated as a burden.
This evil culture must be confronted directly. Rape is not caused by a woman’s clothing, mobility, speech, education or independence. Rape is caused by rapists and by systems that allow rapists to operate without fear. Any society that blames victims is not defending morality; it is defending violence.
There is also a dangerous tendency to reduce rape cases to political embarrassment rather than human catastrophe. Governments want to control the narrative. Parties want to weaponize the data. Local power groups want to suppress scandals. But the victim needs justice, not narrative control. The state must stop treating sexual violence as a public relations problem and start treating it as a national emergency.
The justice system is central to the crisis. Delayed justice is not a procedural inconvenience; it is a second assault on the survivor. Survivors who come forward must face police stations, medical examinations, court appearances, threats, character assassination and social pressure. If, after all that, the case remains stuck for years, the system teaches victims not to trust the law.
At a Daily Star roundtable on violence against women and children, UNICEF Bangladesh child protection specialist Shabnaaz Zahereen said that among more than 5,600 sexual violence cases from 2013 to 2024, only 2 percent reached a verdict. That figure is not merely disappointing. It is a disgrace. It tells victims that justice is rare, and it tells offenders that punishment is unlikely.
The government must answer a simple question: What is the value of strict laws if they are not enforced effectively? Bangladesh has legal provisions against rape and violence against women and children. But laws written on paper do not protect anyone unless police investigate properly, prosecutors pursue cases seriously, courts move swiftly, and political influence is kept out of the process.
The Bangladesh Perspective report’s recommendations are therefore not optional; they are urgent. Bangladesh needs independent oversight of rape and sexual violence cases. It needs specialized fast-track courts that actually work. It needs trained investigators, survivor-sensitive policing, witness protection, forensic capacity, legal aid, trauma counseling and safe shelters. It needs accountability for police negligence. It needs punishment for anyone who pressures families into informal settlements. It needs a clear national policy that no political or social influence will shield perpetrators.
But institutional reform alone will not be enough. Bangladesh also needs a cultural revolution against misogyny, victim-blaming and silence. Schools must teach consent, dignity and gender respect. Religious and community leaders must stop hiding behind vague moral lectures and speak clearly against sexual violence. Media outlets must protect survivor identity while exposing systemic failures. Families must stop treating survivors as sources of shame. Men and boys must be taught that masculinity does not mean domination.
The government’s failure is severe, but society’s failure is also undeniable. Rape culture survives because too many people look away. It survives because local elites intervene. It survives because families fear scandal more than injustice. It survives because police sometimes treat survivors with suspicion. It survives because courts are slow. It survives because perpetrators expect compromise. It survives because society has normalized the suffering of women and children.
The Bangladesh Perspective report should therefore be read not only as a study but as a warning. A country where women and children live in fear cannot call itself stable. A country where rape cases rise while convictions remain rare cannot claim justice. A country where children are attacked in places meant to protect them cannot claim moral order.
The human cost is immense. Survivors carry trauma for life. Children drop out of school. Families relocate in shame or fear. Mothers and fathers live with unbearable guilt. Some victims die by suicide. Others are murdered after rape. Communities lose trust. Women’s mobility shrinks. Girls’ education suffers. Public confidence in the state erodes.
This is how a rape crisis becomes a national crisis.
Bangladesh’s leaders must stop hiding behind statements and statistics. They must stop waiting for viral outrage before acting. They must stop treating violence against women and children as a temporary media cycle. The government must show, through action, that the body and dignity of every woman and child are protected by the state.
The evil culture of impunity must be broken. The evil culture of silence must be broken. The evil culture of victim-blaming must be broken. The evil culture of political protection must be broken.
A nation is not judged by how loudly its leaders speak of justice. It is judged by whether the weakest person can walk safely, report a crime without fear, and receive justice without humiliation.
Bangladesh’s women and children are asking for the most basic promise of citizenship: safety. If the government cannot deliver that, then its failure is not administrative. It is moral.
Writer: Pulack Ghatack — Journalist, Human Rights Activist, and General Secretary of the Bangladesh Hindu Law Reform Council
