FEW human rights violations inflict as much pain and uncertainty as enforced disappearance. Murder leaves a body, imprisonment leaves a record and exile leaves a destination. Enforced disappearance leaves only questions. Families wait endlessly for news. Parents continue to hope that a missing child may somehow return. Wives spend years searching for their husbands. Children grow up without knowing whether their parents are alive or dead. The emotional burden is compounded by legal uncertainty, social isolation and economic hardship.

For Bangladesh, the issue of enforced disappearances is not an abstract legal debate. It is a painful and deeply political reality that has shaped the country’s recent history. Allegations of disappearances involving political activists, journalists, academics, human rights defenders, students and ordinary citizens have surfaced repeatedly over the past decade and a half. Some of those who disappeared eventually returned. Others were found dead. Many have never been found.

Against this backdrop, the government’s decision to introduce new legislation addressing enforced disappearances represents a potentially historic moment. According to published reports, the government is preparing a revised bill after allowing the previous ordinance to lapse, arguing that further consultation and refinement were necessary.

At first glance, the initiative appears encouraging. Bangladesh ratified the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance in 2024, thereby assuming both legal and moral obligations to prevent such crimes, investigate allegations, prosecute offenders and provide justice and reparations to victims and their families.

The proposed legislation is, therefore, an opportunity to demonstrate that Bangladesh intends to align its domestic laws with international human rights standards. Yet it is equally important to recognise that passing a law and ensuring justice is not necessarily the same thing. A poorly designed law can create the appearance of accountability while failing to address the structural causes of abuse. In some circumstances, weak legislation can even legitimise impunity rather than challenge it. This is precisely why the current debate matters so much.

According to analyses by international human rights organisations, including the World Organisation Against Torture, the draft legislation includes several positive elements. For the first time, Bangladesh appears poised to establish a clear legal definition of enforced disappearance. The proposed law also reportedly recognises victims’ rights to truth, legal representation, compensation and other forms of redress.

Perhaps even more importantly, the draft reportedly incorporates the principle of command responsibility. Under this principle, senior officials may be held accountable if they knew, or should reasonably have known, that their subordinates were involved in such activities and failed to prevent or punish them. This provision is significant because enforced disappearances are rarely the actions of isolated individuals. In most cases, they involve institutions, chains of command and systems of authority. These developments deserve recognition.

Nevertheless, several important concerns remain unresolved. The first and most pressing concern involves the independence of investigations. A central principle of justice is that investigations must be impartial, transparent and free from conflicts of interest. Yet questions have been raised regarding the institutional mechanisms proposed in the draft law.

Human rights groups have argued that agencies potentially implicated in past abuses should not be responsible for investigating those same allegations. Such an arrangement would inevitably undermine public confidence, regardless of the intentions of those involved. The principle is straightforward: no institution should be expected to investigate itself.

The New Age newspaper rightly observed in a recent editorial that the credibility of the law will depend not on its language alone but on the reliability and independence of the investigative process. Without genuine institutional autonomy, even the most carefully drafted legislation will struggle to produce meaningful results. The question, therefore, is simple but fundamental: who will investigate the investigators?

Another concern relates to the possibility of legal loopholes. Some experts have warned that certain provisions of the proposed legislation could inadvertently legitimise secret detention practices under specific circumstances. If individuals are detained secretly and later presented before the courts, questions arise as to whether such actions would still qualify as enforced disappearances under the law.

This is not merely a technical legal matter. The effectiveness of any human rights legislation depends on the clarity of its definitions. Ambiguity creates opportunities for abuse, selective interpretation and political manipulation. Laws designed to protect citizens should leave no room for uncertainty regarding fundamental rights.

The rights of victims and their families also deserve greater attention. Enforced disappearance is not only a crime against the individual who has vanished. It is also a crime against entire families and communities. The suffering endured by relatives often continues for years, even decades. Families may lose their principal source of income. They encounter administrative and legal obstacles in matters relating to inheritance, property ownership, banking, education and social welfare. Many also experience severe psychological trauma.

International experience suggests that addressing such harm requires a comprehensive approach extending beyond criminal prosecution. Financial compensation, psychosocial support, public acknowledgement, legal assistance, memorialisation initiatives and guarantees of non-recurrence are all essential components of a meaningful response.

Bangladesh can learn important lessons from other countries that have confronted similar challenges. Argentina’s efforts to investigate disappearances during military rule demonstrated the importance of truth commissions and independent judicial processes. South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission emphasised the importance of public testimony and national dialogue. Morocco combined legal reform with institutional restructuring and compensation programmes. Chile similarly pursued a combination of truth-seeking initiatives and judicial accountability mechanisms.

None of these examples offers a perfect model for Bangladesh. Every society must address its own history according to its own circumstances. Nevertheless, these experiences illustrate an important lesson: sustainable justice requires institutions that are independent, transparent and trusted by the public.

The proposed legislation also raises broader questions about governance and policymaking in Bangladesh. Over the years, the country has witnessed a recurring pattern in which important policy decisions have been announced rapidly, often with limited consultation, only to be revised repeatedly afterwards. Such an approach may be manageable in less sensitive areas of governance. It is entirely inadequate when dealing with matters involving human rights, constitutional protections and public trust.

Legislation concerning enforced disappearances demands the broadest possible consultation process. Victims’ families, legal experts, judges, academics, civil society organisations, journalists, psychologists, forensic specialists and international human rights experts should all have opportunities to contribute. Transparency strengthens legitimacy and legitimacy strengthens implementation.

Another issue that cannot be ignored is the role of institutions themselves. Effective governance depends upon a clear separation of responsibilities. Policymakers establish the legal framework, while independent institutions implement the law. Confusing these roles weakens both accountability and public confidence.

Bangladesh therefore requires an independent investigative body with sufficient authority, adequate resources, specialised expertise and strong witness protection mechanisms. Such an institution should be protected from political interference and equipped with the technical capacity necessary to conduct complex investigations.

Equally important is the question of political will. Laws alone do not transform societies. Institutions, procedures and professional norms matter equally. Governments change, ministers come and go and political priorities shift. Institutions endure. That is why strong institutions are the best safeguard against future abuses.

At its heart, the debate surrounding enforced disappearances concerns the relationship between the state and its citizens. Every state possesses legitimate authority. However, that authority must always be exercised within the framework of the law. Democratic governance ultimately depends upon public trust and public trust depends upon accountability. Bangladesh now has an opportunity to demonstrate that accountability is not merely a political slogan but a governing principle.

This moment should not be squandered. The true success of the proposed legislation will not be measured by the number of pages it contains, the severity of the punishments it prescribes or the declarations made during parliamentary debates. Instead, it will be judged by a much simpler standard. Will families finally learn the truth? Will perpetrators be held accountable? Will institutions become stronger, more transparent and more responsive? And, perhaps most importantly, will future generations be protected from similar suffering? These questions will determine whether the law becomes a milestone in the pursuit of justice or merely another symbol of unfulfilled promise.

Enforced disappearance is, after all, not simply about the missing people. It is also about the disappearance of accountability, transparency and public confidence in the institutions of the state. Recovering those values may prove to be Bangladesh’s greatest challenge — and its greatest opportunity.

Musharraf Tansen, a former country representative of the Malala Fund, is a development analyst.