Can Bangladesh Disarm the Fear Before Election?

M A Hossain, 

The severe threat to the transition to democracy in Bangladesh today is the loss of the state's monopoly on violence. As the nation moves toward a long-awaited parliamentary election, the unresolved recovery of looted firearms—and the violence already unfolding around it—poses a serious and unmistakable danger to law, order, and electoral credibility.

During the mass uprising and ensuing state instability, police stations, security installations, and prisons were overrun. Weapons meant to protect citizens fell into the wrong hands. Although authorities report that a large portion has been recovered, the numbers that remain missing should alarm any serious observer: approximately 1,333 firearms and more than 200,000 rounds of ammunition are still unaccounted for. These are not symbolic losses. They include rifles, submachine guns, light machine guns, pistols, and shotguns—tools of lethal efficiency, now circulating beyond state control.

That this concern is being voiced openly by senior Election Commission officials matters. This is not bureaucratic pessimism. It is a warning about election-time security from those constitutionally tasked with safeguarding the vote.

History offers a harsh lesson here. Elections held amid uncontrolled weapons rarely remain peaceful. From post-Soviet states in the 1990s to fragile democracies in Africa and Latin America, the pattern repeats: when arms seep into politics, ballots lose meaning. Bangladesh is not immune to this logic.

The violence already underway suggests the danger is not hypothetical. In recent weeks alone, shootings and targeted killings have taken place across Dhaka, Chattogram, Gazipur, Narsingdi, Jashore, and Shariatpur. Political figures, activists, and businessmen have been gunned down in public spaces. Explosions linked to homemade bombs and cocktails—some apparently prepared for campaign-related sabotage—have killed young men and destroyed homes. Election offices have been torched. Buses set on fire. Threats issued openly, often online. These are not isolated crimes. They form a pattern: the re-emergence of armed violence as a political instrument.

Human rights data reinforces the point. Last year alone, political violence claimed over a hundred lives, injured thousands, and mob lynchings killed nearly two hundred people. This year has begun no differently. In just the first week, four people were killed in shooting incidents. Mob violence—often dismissed as spontaneous rage—has become a parallel threat, fueled by the same atmosphere of impunity and weapon availability.

The police insist that unrecovered weapons will not disrupt the election. As an administrative reassurance, it sounds calming. As an empirical claim, it is deeply questionable. Since the looting of state arms, incidents of robbery, extortion, contract killings, and political intimidation have visibly increased. When criminals hold state-grade weapons, the risk is not episodic—it is structural.

Consider the psychology of elections. Voters participate when they feel safe. Candidates campaign when they believe the state can protect them. Today, at least twenty political leaders from different parties have formally requested personal security. One prominent candidate was seen publicly wearing a bulletproof vest while addressing supporters. This is not theatre. It is fear, made visible.

The interim government has not been idle. Operations under the banner of “Devil Hunt” were launched, arrests made, and statements issued. Nearly 16,000 people have been detained in recent phases. Yet the uncomfortable truth is that the recovery rate of weapons remains low, and the number of professional, high-profile criminals apprehended is even lower. Only a few hundred weapons were seized—barely scratching the surface of what remains missing. This raises a harder question: is the state chasing numbers, or dismantling networks?

Effective weapons recovery requires more than raids. It demands intelligence-led policing, inter-agency coordination, mapping of trafficking routes, and a clear understanding of who rents weapons, who supplies them, and who shields them. At present, these structures appear fragmented. The result is a dangerous blind spot—no one knows with certainty where the missing arms are, who controls them, or how they might be deployed during the campaign. That uncertainty alone is destabilizing.

Compounding the risk is the release on bail of several top-tier criminals, many of whom have returned to their old networks. Add to this the fact that prisoners escaped during the July unrest remain at large, and the security picture darkens further. In politics, perception often matters as much as reality. And the prevailing perception is one of vulnerability.

The stakes are high. The February election is not merely a procedural exercise; it is a test of Bangladesh’s democratic recovery. A vote conducted under fear—of shootings, arson, or retaliation—is a vote already compromised. Turnout declines. Trust erodes. Losers reject outcomes. Winners inherit legitimacy deficits. Responsibility, therefore, does not rest with law enforcement alone. It is a state obligation.

What should be done is neither radical nor unprecedented. First, the recovery of looted weapons must be declared a national priority, not one task among many. Second, intelligence coordination between police, military, border forces, and financial investigators must be tightened to disrupt arms markets and rental networks. Third, border areas and urban hotspots require enhanced surveillance, not sporadic patrols. Fourth, informant protection and reward mechanisms must be credible enough to encourage cooperation without fear of reprisal.

Equally important is political restraint. Campaigns cannot become pretexts for intimidation. Parties must actively discourage violence among their supporters. Silence, in this context, is complicity. The monopoly over force is the foundation of the modern state. Lose it, and everything else—law, rights, elections—becomes negotiable. Bangladesh still has time to prevent that outcome. But time, like ammunition, is not infinite.

A peaceful election is not a courtesy to political actors. It is the minimum requirement of a civilized society. And the first step toward that peace is simple, though difficult: the state’s weapons must return to the state’s hands. Delay that task, and the cost may be measured not just in lives lost, but in a democracy weakened before it can fully stand.

M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com

  This article published at :

1. The South Asian Times, NY: 06 Feb,26

The US -India Trade Deal That Isn’t

M A Hossain,

When Donald Trump announces a “historic deal,” the room vibrates with superlatives. When Narendra Modi responds, the quiet is more telling than the words. Their latest exchange—a claimed swap of Russian oil for U.S. tariff cuts—is a masterclass in asymmetrical communication. It invites a basic but necessary question: is this a genuine geopolitical pivot by India, or another episode of Trumpian trade theater dressed up as strategy?

Rhetoric vs. Reality

Trump's claim is simple. The US would lower tariffs on Indian goods from 25% to 18% following a conversation with Modi. In exchange, India would pledge to buy more than $500 billion worth of U.S. energy, technology, coal, agriculture, and other products, stop purchasing Russian oil, and remove all tariffs and non-tariff barriers on American goods. Trump presented the agreement as a victory for friendship, commerce, and even peace—more especially, peace in Ukraine.

Modi confirmed the tariff reduction and welcomed improved trade relations. What he did not confirm matters more than what he did. There was no endorsement of the claim that India would fully cut off Russian oil. In diplomacy, silence is rarely accidental. It is often the policy.

Energy Security as a Non-Negotiable Principle

India’s position on energy has been consistent since the start of the Ukraine war. Energy security is national security. India is the world’s third-largest oil importer. Its energy mix cannot afford ideological purity. When Western governments pushed New Delhi to avoid Russian oil in 2022, India refused. It made the right claim that the world's energy markets were unstable and that its main duty was to shield domestic consumers from supply shocks and inflation. India's foreign ministry publicly refuted Trump's similar assertion in late 2025 that India had pledged to cease purchasing Russian oil. Since then, the reasoning has still been the same.

What has changed is degree, not direction. India has begun to reduce its imports of Russian crude. From roughly 1.2 million barrels per day earlier this year, imports are projected to fall toward 800,000 barrels per day in the coming months. That is a notable decline. But it is not a rupture. It looks less like capitulation and more like diversification—something India has done before, reducing and later increasing purchases depending on price and availability.

This distinction matters. Cutting Russian oil to zero would represent a strategic break. Reducing dependence is a tactical adjustment. The former would signal alignment. The latter preserves autonomy. India has been explicit for decades about preferring the second.

Scale, Sanctions, and Tariffs

Trump’s framing also relies on a familiar assumption: that reducing Russian oil revenue meaningfully weakens Moscow and hastens the end of the Ukraine war. This belief has intuitive appeal and limited empirical support. Russia has demonstrated remarkable adaptability in rerouting energy exports. Discounted barrels still find buyers. Global oil markets are fluid; supply rarely goes unsold for long. Even a significant reduction by India would not isolate Russia from energy revenue, especially when other buyers remain willing.

There is also the matter of scale. Trump’s claim that India will purchase over $500 billion worth of U.S. goods should give even sympathetic listeners pause. Total U.S. exports to India do not approach that figure annually. Even spread over a decade, it would require a dramatic restructuring of India’s trade patterns and domestic policy. These numbers function less as contracts and more as signals—expressions of intent rather than binding commitments.

Tariffs themselves deserve scrutiny. A reduction from 25% to 18% is meaningful but limited. It is not a free trade. Trump’s assertion that India will reduce all tariffs and non-tariff barriers to zero is, at best, aspirational. India has long protected sensitive sectors, particularly agriculture. Eliminating barriers across the board would amount to a reversal of decades of economic policy. Such transformations are negotiated painstakingly over years, not announced on social media.

Strategic Autonomy 

For Trump, the incentives are obvious. He gets to claim tariffs work. He gets to present himself as tough on Russia. He reinforces his preferred self-image as the dealmaker who extracts concessions from reluctant partners. The announcement checks domestic political boxes regardless of what eventually materializes.

For Modi, the incentives are more complex. India wants lower U.S. tariffs and greater access to American markets. It wants stronger technology and defense ties with Washington, even as it maintains long-standing military cooperation with Russia. Above all, it wants strategic autonomy—the freedom to make decisions without appearing to take orders from any great power. That priority has shaped Indian foreign policy since the Cold War, and it has not been abandoned.

Modi’s calibrated response reflects this. He praised improved relations, welcomed tariff reductions, and spoke of peace and cooperation. He did not echo claims that would box India into a rigid energy posture. That restraint preserves flexibility. It reassures domestic audiences. It signals to Moscow that diversification is not abandonment. And it reminds Washington that partnership does not equal subordination.

The broader context matters. The United States increasingly views India as central to its strategy in Asia—both as a counterweight to China and as a node in restructured global supply chains. That reality gives India leverage. Negotiations, not diktats, are the natural outcome of that leverage. Pressure is being applied on both sides, and both are trying to maximize advantage.

So what is actually happening? Most likely, a mixture of real movement and political theater. India is gradually reducing Russian oil imports while expanding options with the United States and others. The United States is offering tariff relief while testing how far India is willing to go. Trump is claiming victory early. Modi is keeping his options open.

None of this amounts to a dramatic geopolitical realignment. It is bargaining, not betrayal. The danger lies in mistaking rhetoric for reality. Announcements can shape expectations, but policy is shaped by constraints—economic, political, and strategic.

India’s relationship with Russia will evolve, but it will not be dictated by a 7% tariff adjustment. Nor will India’s partnership with the United States be strengthened by overpromising and underdelivering. Durable alignment is built on clarity, not exaggeration.

In the end, the most reasonable conclusion is also the least dramatic. Negotiations are ongoing. Energy diversification is continuing. Political narratives are being tested. The rest is spin.

   

M A Hossain is a senior journalist and international affairs analyst based in Bangladesh.

This article published at :

1. Asia Times, HK : 04 February, 26

2. The South Asia Times, USA : 05 Feb, 26

The Last Mile of Governance: Can Bangladesh Deliver This Ramadan?

M A Hossain, 

There's a peculiar ritual that plays out each year in Bangladesh as the holy month of Ramadan approaches—a ritual that has little to do with spiritual preparation and everything to do with economic anxiety. The middle class tightens its belt. The poor calculate impossible budgets. And somewhere in the shadows, a syndicate of merchants sharpens its pencils, ready to exploit faith itself for profit.

This year, government officials promised us that it will be different. They point to import figures: 40 percent more essential commodities than last year. They cite stockpiles: sugar, cooking oil, chickpeas, onions, dates—all supposedly abundant. The Trading Corporation of Bangladesh assures us. The Ministry of Commerce backs them up. On paper, there is no crisis.

But here's the uncomfortable truth that history teaches us, again and again: in Bangladesh, having goods in warehouses and having them reach ordinary citizens at fair prices are two entirely different propositions.

Consider the logic of it. If scarcity were truly the problem, then abundance would be the solution. Yet we've witnessed this farce before—ample stocks sitting in godowns while markets spiral into chaos, prices climbing not because supplies have vanished but because a few well-connected operators have decided they should. The invisible hand of the market, it turns out, sometimes wears brass knuckles.

The pattern is numbingly familiar. A merchant here whispers about "shortages." A trader there holds back stock for a few strategic days. Suddenly, panic purchasing begins. Prices jump. Government officials scramble to respond, often too late, always reactive rather than proactive. By the time mobile courts raid a few warehouses for cameras, the damage is done—the syndicates have made their money, and ordinary families have paid the price.

What makes this year's governmental assurances particularly interesting is the context. Dr. Muhammad Yunus's administration earned considerable goodwill during last year's Ramadan by achieving something that sounds almost mundane but felt revolutionary: they kept the lights on. During iftar and sehri—the times when families gather to break their fast and eat before dawn—electricity flowed uninterrupted. In the suffocating heat of a Bangladeshi summer, this wasn't a luxury; it was a lifeline. The market remained relatively stable, too, which only amplified the sense that competent governance was possible after all.

This created expectations. Dangerous expectations, perhaps, because they suggested that the dysfunction we'd normalized for years wasn't inevitable but chosen—or at least tolerated.

Here we must draw on historical parallels, because Bangladesh's predicament during Ramadan isn't unique. Consider Weimar Germany's experience with hyperinflation in the early 1920s. The fundamental issue wasn't merely monetary policy gone haywire; it was the complete collapse of public trust in institutions meant to safeguard economic stability. When people lose faith that their government can or will protect them from predatory economic behavior, markets don't just become unstable—they become theaters of anxiety where every transaction carries existential weight.

Bangladesh isn't experiencing hyperinflation, thankfully. But the psychological mechanism is similar: when families approach Ramadan uncertain whether they'll afford basic items for religious observance, they're not just worried about budgets. They're confronting a fundamental question about whether their government functions for them or for the connected few who manipulate scarcity like marionette strings.

The current administration faces what we might call the "last mile problem" of governance. Import statistics and warehouse inventories represent the easy part—the quantifiable, trackable aspect of policy. Ensuring those goods actually reach neighborhood markets at reasonable prices? That requires something far more difficult: the political will to confront powerful business interests, the administrative capacity to enforce regulations, and the sustained attention to make monitoring meaningful rather than performative.

And here's where things get genuinely challenging. Post-election political environments anywhere tend toward distraction. New governments, or governments fresh from electoral contests, naturally focus on consolidating power, managing coalitions, and distributing patronage. Market supervision seems tedious by comparison—until it isn't, until the crisis hits and suddenly everyone wonders why nobody was paying attention.

The reduction of import duties on dates offers an illustrative case study. It's the kind of technocratic adjustment that sounds impressive in press releases: "Government Cuts Tariffs to Ensure Affordable Ramadan." But the crucial question remains: will those tariff reductions translate into lower retail prices, or will middlemen simply pocket the difference? Without robust monitoring mechanisms and genuine consequences for price manipulation, good policy becomes merely good intentions.

This brings us to the uncomfortable reality that markets in developing economies often function less like the idealized competitive systems of economics textbooks and more like extractive political arrangements. The Bangladeshi market for essential commodities isn't characterized by perfect competition; it's characterized by oligopolistic control, with a handful of players able to coordinate behavior precisely because enforcement is weak and political connections run deep.

Breaking that pattern requires more than assurances. It requires visible, consistent action. Mobile courts that don't just raid warehouses during crises but maintain continuous pressure. Pricing transparency that makes manipulation immediately obvious. Most importantly, it requires a demonstrated willingness to prosecute and penalize those who treat public necessity as private opportunity.

The parallel to electricity provision is instructive. Last year's success in maintaining uninterrupted power during Ramadan didn't happen by accident. It required planning, resource allocation, and prioritization. The same principle applies to market management: it's entirely achievable, but only if treated as the political priority it deserves to be.

What makes Ramadan particularly significant in this context is its temporal compression. Unlike general inflation that builds gradually, giving families time to adjust, Ramadan creates a concentrated demand shock. Households need specific items—dates, chickpeas for frying, cooking oil, sugar—all at once. This makes the month simultaneously a test of supply chain competence and a potential bonanza for those inclined toward exploitation.

The government's test, then, isn't really about whether warehouses are full. It's about whether the state possesses sufficient institutional strength to ensure that abundance translates into accessibility—that having enough means people can actually get enough.

Public trust is a fragile commodity, harder to stockpile than sugar or oil. Last Ramadan bought the current administration considerable goodwill. This Ramadan will reveal whether that was a sustainable achievement or a fortunate anomaly.

Citizens aren't asking for miracles. They're asking for competence: markets that function, prices that remain within reach, electricity that flows when families gather. These are modest expectations, which makes it all the more damning when they're not met.

The real question facing Bangladesh this Ramadan isn't whether there's enough food in the country. It's whether there's enough political will to ensure that food reaches those who need it at prices they can afford. Past experience suggests skepticism. Present assurances invite hope. The coming weeks will reveal which instinct was wiser.

For now, we wait—and watch—as the oldest test of governance unfolds once more: can the state protect its citizens from those who would profit from their piety?

M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com

This article published at :

1. The Asian Age, BD : 03 February, 26

How the U.S. Misreads Bangladesh: Backing Dubious Figures Can have Dangerous Implications

M A Hossain,

For decades, many leading analysts and policymakers have described America’s global strategic doctrine as sophisticated, resilient, even foolproof. From Washington’s vantage point, its blend of military power, economic leverage, intelligence networks, and ideological messaging has been seen as the ultimate toolkit for shaping world affairs. Yet history tells a less flattering story. Again and again, American doctrine has not merely failed but backfired—sometimes spectacularly—in countries as varied as Vietnam, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Venezuela, Egypt, and now, increasingly, Bangladesh.

The problem is not a lack of power. It is a recurring failure of political judgment.

A doctrine of repeated failure  

In Vietnam, the war remains the most instructive example. The United States entered the conflict armed with overwhelming conventional superiority—advanced airpower, mechanized infantry, and unmatched logistical capacity. Yet it underestimated the political resolve and nationalist fervor of the North Vietnamese and the Viet Cong. Backed decisively by the Soviet Union and China with weapons, training, and strategic depth, Hanoi turned the war into a prolonged insurgency. Mounting American casualties, a disillusioned public, and international embarrassment forced Washington to withdraw in 1973. Two years later, Saigon fell. Vietnam was not merely a military setback; it was a political disastrous surrender for the US. 

Washington, however, did not learn its lesson.

In Venezuela, recently, policymakers in Washington entertained the notion that by orchestrating the abduction of Nicolás Maduro, they could become the 'neo-masters' of the Venezuelan people—establishing exclusive control over the nation's massive natural resources, including oil, gas, and gold. Concurrently, they calculated that the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) could supplant Venezuelan drug cartels and refurbish its own covert transnational drug trafficking operations. President Donald Trump, adamantly seeking cash flow to address America's skyrocketing national debt and avert economic catastrophe, propelled this "Maduro Project" forward. Ultimately, the result was a stark reminder of a Vietnam-style surrender.

In Iran, it offers a similar story of miscalculation. During Donald Trump’s presidency, repeated threats of military action, harsh sanctions, and open encouragement of internal dissent created an impression—particularly among hawkish commentators—that the Islamic Republic stood on the brink of collapse. Yet Iran’s leadership, including Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, never took these threats at face value. Tehran understood the limits of American appetite for another Middle Eastern war. Far from capitulating, Iran expanded its regional influence through proxies, advanced its missile program, and deepened ties with China and Russia. Finally, everyone now understands, for Donald Trump or bigwigs in the Pentagon toppling Ayatollah Khamenei is mission impossible. Here again America's understanding has serious flaws.

In Afghanistan, the US doctrine stands as perhaps the clearest symbol of strategic hubris. America did not enter Afghanistan to fight the Soviet Union—that conflict ended in 1989—but it did inherit the illusion that Afghanistan could be reshaped through force after 2001. Two decades, trillions of dollars, and countless lives later, the Taliban returned to power in 2021 with astonishing speed. American policymakers consistently misunderstood Afghan society, mistaking military dominance for political legitimacy. Today, Afghanistan is governed under a rigid interpretation of Sharia law that stands in stark contrast to Western ideals of democracy and human rights. Even Pakistan’s military leadership, once deeply entangled in Afghan affairs, now treats the Taliban with caution. Meanwhile, Kabul has built pragmatic ties with countries openly skeptical of U.S. influence. This was not just a defeat; it was an admission of strategic failure.

In Egypt, the Arab Spring further exposed Washington’s chronic misreading of political realities. In 2012, the United States supported Egypt’s democratic transition and accepted the electoral victory of Mohamed Morsi and the Muslim Brotherhood. Yet American policymakers underestimated the depth of secular anxiety, economic frustration, and institutional resistance within Egyptian society. Within 14 months, mass protests erupted. The military, led by General Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, intervened, removed Morsi, and crushed the Brotherhood with brutal efficiency. Faced with a choice between democratic ideals and regional stability, Washington quietly backed the generals. The result was neither democracy nor credibility, but a loss of trust among all sides.

Bangladesh : A case study in misreading the map

This pattern of misjudgment has now been repeated in Bangladesh.

In recent years, the same mistake has been echoed in Bangladesh. The United States has appeared to view Bangladesh through an ideological lens rather than geopolitical and populist one. By treating Jamaat-e-Islami Bangladesh (JIB)—a party with ideological roots linked to the Muslim Brotherhood —as a potential strategic partner, Washington committed a series of political blunders.

First, geography matters. Bangladesh is almost entirely surrounded by India, with Myanmar forming a smaller eastern frontier. India remains the dominant regional power and Bangladesh’s most consequential neighbor in economic, cultural, and security terms. Any American strategy in Bangladesh that ignores India is inherently flawed. Aligning regionally with Pakistan—a country with which Bangladesh shares a traumatic history—offers Washington no meaningful strategic advantage in Dhaka. Rather, it alienates the very population it seeks to influence.

Second, Jamaat-e-Islami commands only a small fraction of popular support, estimated at roughly 7–8%. Bangladesh, though Muslim-majority, is constitutionally and traditionally secular. It is also culturally distinct from Pakistan. Its Islamic traditions are deeply influenced by Bengali heritage, Hindu coexistence, and Persian Sufi practices. Political Islam of the rigid, ideological variety has never enjoyed mass appeal. Betting on Jamaat is not just risky; it is politically irrational. And historically or traditionally, the people of Bangladesh are closer to India than to Pakistan. The same culture, food habit, language and territorial coexistence enhance this bondage. In this context, if Trump wants to force Bangladesh - Pakistan alignment, then it would be nothing but a political disaster.

Third, the United States misjudged personalities. By placing its bet on Muhammad Yunus—a figure with limited political grounding and contested domestic credibility—Washington revealed how little it understood Bangladesh’s power dynamics. Yunus was imagined, mistakenly, as a Bangladeshi Mahathir Mohamad by the US policy makers. Instead, his Western orientation alienated the Muslim-majority population. Allegations of mob violence, corruption, and political immaturity surrounding his supporters further eroded his standing. Rather than engaging leaders with genuine mass support, such as Sheikh Hasina or Tarique Rahman, Washington backed figures viewed with suspicion at home. The implication was dangerous: if Jamaat-e-Islami ever gained power, Bangladesh could drift toward models resembling Taliban-ruled Afghanistan or Iran’s theocratic system.

The cost of arrogance

The cumulative effect of these missteps has been corrosive. Anti-American sentiment in Bangladesh has grown, not because of ideology, but because of perceived arrogance and ignorance. By meddling clumsily in domestic politics, the Trump administration strained a relationship that once held significant goodwill.

If current trends continue, Washington loses its all capitals in the Casino name Bangladesh and walks out of the scene with greatest humiliations.  This is my prediction!

M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com

This article published at :

1. South Asia Monitor, India : 02 Feb, 26

2. Weekly Blitz, BD : 01 Feb, 26

America’s Iran Dilemma

M A Hossain, 

There are moments in international politics when the choreography of war becomes visible before the curtain officially rises. Aircraft carriers reposition. Bases quietly empty. Diplomats talk faster, if not more honestly. The current U.S. military posture toward Iran suggests such a moment. The Pentagon is not improvising; it is staging. And when a superpower stages, it usually does so with more than one script in hand.

Yet the central question is not how the United States could strike Iran. It is why—and to what end. American history is littered with wars in which tactical brilliance outpaced strategic clarity. From Vietnam to Iraq, the United States has learned, relearned, and then inconveniently forgotten that military action untethered from clear political objectives tends to age badly. Iran risks becoming the next chapter in that familiar story.

The signs of preparation are hard to ignore. A carrier strike group steaming toward the Middle East. Patriot and THAAD missile defenses deployed. Non-essential personnel pulled from exposed bases in Qatar and Saudi Arabia. Tanker aircraft and heavy transport planes moving into theater. This is not the posture of a power expecting imminent diplomacy. It is the posture of a power clearing the battlefield. 

Iran, for its part, is not passive. Arms shipments from Russia and China suggest anticipation, not surprise. Tehran has stockpiled weapons and upgraded its air defenses, including Chinese HQ-9B systems. On paper, these defenses look formidable. In practice, they are less so. Modern air defense requires deep integration, layered systems, and constant real-time coordination. Iran lacks much of that. Air defenses are only as strong as their weakest sensor—and Iran has many.

Still, none of this explains the purpose of war. The protests inside Iran, however real and deadly, are a sideshow in American calculations. Washington’s sudden interest in Iranian democracy rings hollow given Donald Trump’s record—from his indifference to Venezuela’s democratic collapse to his transactional view of Ukraine and even Greenland. This is not a crusade for liberal values. It is about unfinished business.

That business dates back to the last confrontation, when U.S. strikes failed to account for roughly 400 kilograms of 60-percent enriched uranium. Tehran had moved it in advance. If further enriched—a technically modest step—that stockpile could yield material for several nuclear weapons. As long as that uranium remains unaccounted for, the problem, in American eyes, remains unresolved.

Iran has tried to buy time by offering negotiations. But the terms have shifted. Washington now demands not only an end to enrichment and missile development, but the removal of existing nuclear material and the abandonment of regional proxies. No Iranian government, clerical or otherwise, could survive agreeing to such terms. Which brings us back to force.

Broadly speaking, the United States has three military options—three ways to strike Iran—each with distinct risks and implications.

The first is a focused strike on nuclear infrastructure. This would be the narrowest option and the easiest to justify strategically. Destroy the sites. Eliminate the missing enriched uranium if possible. Declare the mission complete. Such an operation would rely heavily on B-2 bombers carrying GBU-57 bunker busters, the only weapons capable of penetrating Iran’s deeply buried facilities. It would be violent, brief, and—crucially—limited.

This approach has historical precedent. Israel’s strikes on Iraq’s Osirak reactor in 1981 and Syria’s al-Kibar facility in 2007 delayed proliferation without triggering regional war. But Iran is not Iraq in 1981. Its program is dispersed, hardened, and politically symbolic. Even a successful strike would likely buy time, not closure.

The second option is decapitation: targeting senior Iranian leaders or key IRGC figures in the hope of destabilizing the regime. The appeal is obvious. Remove the head, and the body collapses. The reality is less tidy. Iran’s political system is deeply institutionalized. The Revolutionary Guards have contingency plans for succession and control. Kill a leader, and you may get a martyr. History offers a cautionary tale here. The 1980 Operation Eagle Claw failed not because of Iranian resistance, but because of logistical overreach. Iran’s geography punishes hubris.

More importantly, assassination strikes risk producing precisely the unity they aim to shatter. Shiite political culture is steeped in martyrdom. External attacks tend to consolidate hardliners, not empower moderates. Regime change by airstrike is an idea that has aged poorly since Baghdad in 2003.

The third option is the most ambitious—and the most dangerous: a sustained campaign aimed at degrading Iran’s military, security apparatus, and political leadership over weeks or months. This would go far beyond a one-off strike. It would target IRGC infrastructure, command centers, missile forces, and internal security units. The goal would be to create a power vacuum so severe that Iran’s leadership is forced into submission or collapse.

This is not impossible. But it is costly. Iran would respond, calibrating its retaliation to the level of threat. At the low end, it might strike U.S. assets in Iraq or harass shipping in the Strait of Hormuz. At the high end—if it believed regime survival was at stake—it could escalate dramatically, risking a regional war that would draw in Gulf states and Israel.

Geography shapes all three options. With most regional states unwilling to grant airspace access, Washington’s choices narrow. A northern route via the Caucasus risks Russian detection. A central corridor through Israel, Jordan, and Iraq is tested but predictable. A southern approach via the Indian Ocean offers flexibility but demands heavy logistics. Most likely, any strike would combine the latter two.

Israel’s role adds another layer. Its interests are narrower but sharper. If Iran’s regime falters, Israeli jets would not wait for clarity. They would move to obliterate Iran’s military infrastructure, as they did in Syria after Assad’s fall. From Israel’s perspective, such moments are fleeting—and must be exploited.

All of which returns us to the central problem: strategy. What does Washington want when the smoke clears? A delayed nuclear program? A weakened regime? A new government? Without a clear answer, military action risks becoming an end in itself—a demonstration of power untethered from outcome.

Iran demands sobriety in abundance. The fuse may be burning. But history suggests that how wars begin matters less than how they are intended to end. And on that question, Washington remains conspicuously vague.

M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com

This article published at :

1. The Nation, Pak : 02 February, 26

Bangladesh Votes Amid Rising Tensions

M A Hossain, 

Bangladesh is approaching an election that looks less like a democratic ritual and more like a national reckoning. Ballots, in theory, are meant to settle disputes. In Bangladesh today, they threaten to inflame them. The coming vote is unfolding against a backdrop of political exclusion, social fracture, economic stress, and rising regional anxiety. What happens next will not remain confined within Bangladesh’s borders. It will shape regional stability, redefine India–Bangladesh relations, test border security arrangements, disrupt economic cooperation, and recalibrate the wider South Asian geopolitical balance.

Elections in Bangladesh have rarely been tranquil affairs, but the current cycle is unusually fraught. Since the fall of Sheikh Hasina in August 2024, the country has been governed by an interim administration led by Muhammad Yunus, whose promise of moral authority and democratic renewal initially inspired hope. That hope has faded quickly. Disputes over election timing, accusations of broken commitments, and the exclusion of the Awami League from participation have created an atmosphere where the legitimacy of the process itself is under question.

Yunus’s insistence on pushing forward with elections despite opposition demands for a different timetable has widened mistrust. The Awami League’s ban, justified by supporters as necessary accountability for past abuses, is viewed by critics as a destabilizing act that risks turning the election into a hollow exercise. Bangladesh has seen this movie before: boycotted polls, disputed mandates, and governments that struggle to govern because their authority is contested from day one.

Bangladesh’s history offers cautionary tales. Elections in 1996, 2006, and 2014 each produced not closure but crisis—boycotts, street violence, and governance paralysis. Each time, political leaders promised lessons had been learned. Yet the same pattern persists: elections treated as instruments of annihilation rather than competition, where losing is synonymous with political extinction.

Instead of serving as a reset, the election risks becoming another chapter in a cycle of political zero-sum warfare, where defeat is equated with extinction and victory with vengeance.

Social Polarisation 

Political polarization in Bangladesh has spilled decisively into society. Communal tensions, long managed through a combination of state authority and social norms, have surged amid weakened governance. Violence against religious minorities—particularly Hindus and Christian have increased, often justified through allegations of blasphemy that rapidly escalate into mob justice.

On October 31,2024, Donald Trump posted on X (formerly Twitter), condemning violence against Hindus and other minorities in Bangladesh amid post-Sheikh Hasina unrest. In the post, Trump wrote: "I strongly condemn the barbaric violence against Hindus, Christians, and other minorities who are getting attacked and looted by mobs in Bangladesh, which remains in a total state of chaos......."

The lynching of Dipu Chandra Das in Mymensingh, following allegations of blasphemy, shocked the nation—and reverberated across the border into India; it became a symbol of institutional failure. When citizens believe the state cannot or will not protect them, fear replaces trust. Minority communities feel besieged, while majority communities are pulled into cycles of grievance, rumor, and radicalization. This erosion of social cohesion is perhaps more dangerous than political rivalry, because it corrodes the foundations of nationhood itself.

History shows that once elections are fought along communal lines—explicitly or implicitly—they cease to be mechanisms of representation and become triggers for prolonged instability.

International Pressure

Bangladesh’s internal crisis has drawn increasing international attention. The United Nations has expressed concern over law and order and minority protection. Russia has urged restraint, invoking historical ties and warning against escalation with India. Western capitals, meanwhile, monitor the situation warily, balancing calls for democratic credibility against fears of being accused of interference.

This scrutiny is not accidental. Bangladesh occupies a critical geostrategic position in South Asia, bridging South and Southeast Asia and sitting astride key maritime routes in the Bay of Bengal. Elections that lack inclusivity, justice mechanisms perceived as politicized, and unchecked violence inevitably invite external concern. Sovereignty, in practice, is reinforced by credibility. When domestic legitimacy erodes, international patience thins.

Instability in Bangladesh rarely remains contained. Refugee flows into India’s northeastern states, cross-border protests, and ideological spillovers are real and recurring risks. Political unrest has already sparked demonstrations in India, underscoring how deeply intertwined the two societies remain.

South Asia’s history offers sobering lessons: crises in one state tend to cascade across borders, whether through migration, militancy, or diplomatic confrontation. Bangladesh’s current volatility arrives at a time when the region is already strained by great-power competition, economic uncertainty, and unresolved territorial disputes. Another flashpoint is the last thing South Asia needs.

Indo–Bangla Relations

Few bilateral relationships in South Asia are as consequential as that between India and Bangladesh. Under Sheikh Hasina, ties entered what many described as a “golden era,” marked by security cooperation, expanding trade, and pragmatic diplomacy. That era is now over.

Recent street unrest on both sides of the border has starkly exposed how Bangladesh’s internal turmoil is spilling into India–Bangladesh relations. Protests by Hindu groups outside Bangladeshi missions in New Delhi, Kolkata, Agartala, and Siliguri—triggered by the lynching of a Hindu youth in Mymensingh—escalated into clashes, vandalism, and reciprocal diplomatic summons. Simultaneously, Bangladeshi ultra-nationalist groups vandalised the Indian consulate office in Chattogram and attempted to attack the Indian High Commission in Dhaka, forcing the suspension of visa services. Together, these incidents reflect a dangerous feedback loop of street nationalism, security anxieties, and diplomatic mistrust amid Bangladesh’s fragile political transition.

Anti-India rhetoric has resurfaced as a populist tool in Bangladeshi politics. Threats against Indian investments, framed as nationalist defiance, may score points domestically but poison diplomatic trust. For New Delhi, the dilemma is acute: overt pressure risks fueling nationalist backlash, while passivity risks allowing strategic setbacks.

A BNP-led government, should it emerge, would inherit this strained environment. Past experience suggests a cooler approach to India, raising concerns about border management, security cooperation, and unresolved issues such as water-sharing agreements. Repairing trust will require restraint on both sides—but restraint is often the first casualty of polarized politics.

Shadow of Extremism

Border security is where domestic instability becomes a regional security threat. Bangladesh’s porous borders have historically been exploited by militant groups, smugglers, and foreign intelligence agencies. The current environment—marked by political distraction and institutional fragility—creates fertile ground for a resurgence of extremist networks.

Reports of renewed interest by Pakistan’s ISI and its proxies are particularly alarming. The sudden shutdown of suspected radical institutions near Dhaka, coinciding with terror-related arrests in India, follows a familiar and troubling pattern. Extremist ecosystems thrive in moments of transition, especially when political authority is contested.

For India, the risk lies in infiltration into its northeastern states. For Bangladesh, the danger is reputational as much as real: being seen as an unwilling host for cross-border militancy would undo years of counterterrorism progress and invite international isolation.

Cooperation Under Strain

Economic cooperation is often the quiet casualty of political turmoil. Bangladesh’s recent growth slowdown, rising inflation, and repeated shutdowns have already shaken investor confidence. Threatening foreign investments—Indian or otherwise—only compounds the damage.

Capital is allergic to uncertainty. Investors do not distinguish between rhetorical posturing and policy intent; they simply calculate risk. Bangladesh’s hard-earned reputation as a stable manufacturing hub is at stake. Regional connectivity projects, energy cooperation, and cross-border trade all depend on predictability. Political theatrics that undermine that predictability carry real economic costs.

At the same time, China’s expanding footprint through loans and infrastructure projects offers Bangladesh short-term relief but long-term dilemmas. Economic dependence forged in moments of weakness often translates into strategic leverage later.

Bangladesh’s crisis unfolds within a shifting South Asian order. India seeks to consolidate its role as a regional stabilizer while countering China’s influence in the Bay of Bengal. China, for its part, sees opportunity in uncertainty, quietly positioning itself as an indispensable partner regardless of domestic politics in Dhaka.

For smaller South Asian states, Bangladesh’s trajectory sends a signal. If a relatively successful development story can slide into prolonged instability through polarized politics and exclusionary elections, others are not immune. The region’s balance depends not only on power but on example.

A Choice with Consequences

Bangladesh stands at a precarious juncture. The coming election could either begin the slow repair of legitimacy or deepen fractures that will take years to heal. The choice is not merely about who governs, but how governance is restored—through inclusion, restraint, and credible institutions, or through exclusion, vengeance, and perpetual crisis.

For the region, the stakes are clear. A stable Bangladesh anchors eastern South Asia. A fractured one destabilizes it. The tense ballot ahead will therefore be judged not just by its outcome, but by its impact—on society, on neighbors, and on the fragile equilibrium of South Asia itself.

M A Hossain, senior journalist and international affairs analyst based in Bangladesh. He covers South Asia and Southeast Asian region for The News Analytics Herald. He can be reached at : writetomahossain@gmail.com

   This article published at :

1. The News Analytics Herald, India : 01 Feb, 26( exclusive)

ইরানকে ঘিরে মার্কিন কৌশলগত পরীক্ষা

এম এ হোসাইন,

আমরা আন্তর্জাতিক যুদ্ধের এক নতুন যুগে প্রবেশ করছি যেখানে যুদ্ধ শুরু হওয়ার আগেই ইঙ্গিত পাওয়া যায়, সেই যুদ্ধ কীভাবে এগোতে পারে। যেমন বিমানবাহী রণতরী এক অঞ্চল থেকে আরেক অঞ্চলে সরে যায়; বিশ্বজুড়ে সামরিক ঘাঁটিগুলোতে অপ্রয়োজনীয় জনবল সরিয়ে নেওয়া হয়, কিংবা কূটনীতিকদের তৎপরতা বাড়ে, যদিও স্পষ্টতা সেখানে খুব কমই থাকে। ইরানকে ঘিরে যুক্তরাষ্ট্রের সামরিক মোতায়েন এই প্রবণতারই এক পাঠ্যপুস্তকীয় উদাহরণ।

পেন্টাগন তার খেলার ছক নতুন করে সাজিয়েছে এবং একটি নির্দিষ্ট ‘পাঠ্যপুস্তকীয় কৌশল’ অনুসরণ করছে। এই মুহূর্তে মূল প্রশ্নটি যুক্তরাষ্ট্র কীভাবে ইরানে আঘাত হানবে—তা নয়। প্রশ্ন হলো, কেন আঘাত হানবে? আর সেই আঘাতের শেষ লক্ষ্য কী?

ইরানের বিরুদ্ধে সামরিক অভিযানের প্রস্তুতির সবচেয়ে স্পষ্ট নিদর্শনগুলোর মধ্যে হলো যুক্তরাষ্ট্রের জাতীয় সামরিক সম্পদের নড়াচড়া। মধ্যপ্রাচ্যে বর্তমানে একটি ক্যারিয়ার স্ট্রাইক গ্রুপ অবস্থান করছে; প্যাট্রিয়ট ও থাড এর মতো উন্নত ক্ষেপণাস্ত্র প্রতিরক্ষা ব্যবস্থা মোতায়েন করা হয়েছে। সৌদি আরব ও কাতারের মতো অগ্রবর্তী ঘাঁটি থেকে অপ্রয়োজনীয় সব কর্মী প্রত্যাহার করা হচ্ছে; এবং ঐ অঞ্চলে আকাশে জ্বালানি সরবরাহকারী ট্যাংকার ও ভারী পরিবহন বিমান পাঠানো হয়েছে। এসবের কোনোটিই কূটনৈতিক সমাধানের প্রত্যাশার ইঙ্গিত দেয় না। বরং এগুলো বলে দেয়—একটি বৈশ্বিক পরাশক্তি যুদ্ধক্ষেত্র প্রস্তুত  করছে সামরিক সংঘাতের জন্য।

ইরানও এই পরিস্থিতির মধ্যে নিষ্ক্রিয় ছিল না। বরং সক্রিয় প্রস্তুতি নিয়েছে। রাশিয়া ও চীন থেকে ইরানে যে অস্ত্রের প্রবাহ দেখা যাচ্ছে, তা কোনো আকস্মিকতা নয়; বরং প্রত্যাশিতই ছিল। একই সঙ্গে ইরান অস্ত্র মজুত বাড়িয়েছে এবং চীনের এইসকিউ-৯বি আকাশ প্রতিরক্ষা ব্যবস্থা সংগ্রহ করে নিজস্ব প্রতিরক্ষা সক্ষমতা উন্নত করেছে। তবে,  কাগজে-কলমে এসব সক্ষমতা বেশ চমকপ্রদ মনে হলেও বাস্তবে আধুনিক হুমকির বিরুদ্ধে কার্যকর আকাশ প্রতিরক্ষা নিশ্চিত করতে এগুলো যথেষ্ট নয়।

বর্তমান আধুনিক যুদ্ধক্ষেত্রে কার্যকর আকাশ প্রতিরক্ষার জন্য একান্ত প্রয়োজন হলো গভীর সমন্বয় - নানা ধরনের ব্যবস্থা এবং এদের মাঝে সার্বক্ষণিক রিয়েল টাইমে যোগাযোগ। এসবের অনেকটাই ইরানের হাতে নেই। তাছাড়া আকাশ প্রতিরক্ষা ব্যবস্থা তার সবচেয়ে দুর্বল সেন্সরের মতোই শক্তিশালী হয়—আর ইরানের সেন্সর নেটওয়ার্কে দুর্বলতার অভাব নেই।

তবু এসব ব্যাখ্যা যুদ্ধের উদ্দেশ্য স্পষ্ট করে না। ইরানের ভেতরে যে বিক্ষোভ চলছে—যতই তা বাস্তব ও প্রাণঘাতী হোক—ওয়াশিংটনের হিসাব-নিকাশে তা মূল বিষয় নয়। ইরানি গণতন্ত্র নিয়ে যুক্তরাষ্ট্রের হঠাৎ আগ্রহ বিশ্বাসযোগ্য ঠেকে না, বিশেষ করে ডোনাল্ড ট্রাম্পের অতীত রেকর্ডের আলোকে। ভেনেজুয়েলার গণতান্ত্রিক বিপর্যয়ের প্রতি তার উদাসীনতা, ইউক্রেন কিংবা গ্রিনল্যান্ড নিয়ে তার লেনদেনভিত্তিক দৃষ্টিভঙ্গি—সবই তার প্রমাণ। এটি উদার মূল্যবোধের কোনো ক্রুসেড নয়; এটি অসমাপ্ত হিসাব চুকানোর চেষ্টা।

এই হিসাবের সূত্রপাত পূর্বের সংঘাতে। তখনকার মার্কিন হামলায় প্রায় ৪০০ কিলোগ্রাম, ৬০% সমৃদ্ধ ইউরেনিয়ামের হদিস মেলেনি। তেহরান আগেভাগেই তা সরিয়ে নিয়েছিল। এই ইউরেনিয়াম যদি আরও সমৃদ্ধ করা হয় (যা প্রযুক্তিগতভাবে খুব কঠিন কাজ নয়) তাহলে তা কয়েকটি পারমাণবিক অস্ত্রের উপাদান জোগাতে পারে। যতক্ষণ এই ইউরেনিয়ামের অবস্থান অজানা থাকবে, ততক্ষণ যুক্তরাষ্ট্রের কিংবা এর সহচর ইসরায়েলের চোখে সমস্যার নিষ্পত্তি হবে না।

ইরান আলোচনার প্রস্তাব দিয়ে সময় কিনতে চেয়েছে। কিন্তু শর্ত বদলে গেছে। এখন ওয়াশিংটনের দাবি শুধু সমৃদ্ধকরণ ও ক্ষেপণাস্ত্র কর্মসূচি বন্ধ করা নয়; বিদ্যমান পারমাণবিক উপাদান সরিয়ে নেওয়া এবং আঞ্চলিক প্রক্সি বাহিনী ত্যাগ করাও। এমন শর্তে সম্মত হলে কোনো ইরানি সরকার (ধর্মীয় হোক বা অন্য) টিকে থাকতে পারবে না। ফলে আবার ফিরে আসে শক্তির প্রশ্ন।

মোটের উপর যুক্তরাষ্ট্রের সামনে ইরানে আঘাত হানবার জন্য  তিনটি সামরিক বিকল্প পথ রয়েছে। প্রতিটির ঝুঁকি ও পরিণতি আলাদা।

প্রথমটি হলো পারমাণবিক স্থাপনায় সীমিত ও লক্ষ্যভিত্তিক হামলা। এটি সবচেয়ে সীমিত এবং কৌশলগতভাবে সবচেয়ে সহজে নিয়ন্ত্রণযোগ্য বিকল্প পথ। স্থাপনাগুলো ধ্বংস করা, সম্ভব হলে হারিয়ে যাওয়া সমৃদ্ধ ইউরেনিয়াম সরিয়ে নেওয়া, তারপর ‘মিশন সম্পন্ন’ ঘোষণা করা। এ ধরনের অভিযানে বি-৫২ বোমারু বিমানের ওপর ভরসা করতে হবে, যেগুলো জিবিইউ-৫৭ বাঙ্কার-বাস্টার বহন করতে সক্ষম। এটি ইরানের গভীরে ভূগর্ভস্থ্য স্থাপনায় আঘাত হানার একমাত্র কার্যকর অস্ত্র। অভিযানটি হবে সংক্ষিপ্ত, তীব্র এবং সর্বোপরি সীমিত আকারের।

দ্বিতীয় বিকল্প হলো শীর্ষ নেতৃত্ব ‘হত্যা’—ইরানের শীর্ষ নেতা বা আইআরজিসির গুরুত্বপূর্ণ ব্যক্তিদের লক্ষ্য করে আঘাত, যাতে শাসনব্যবস্থা টালমাটাল হয়ে পড়ে। ধারণাটি আকর্ষণীয়: মাথা কেটে দিলে শরীর ভেঙে পড়বে। কিন্তু বাস্তবতা এতটা সরল নয়। ইরানের রাজনৈতিক ব্যবস্থা প্রাতিষ্ঠানিকভাবে গভীর ও শক্তিশালী; বিপ্লবী গার্ডের উত্তরাধিকার ও নিয়ন্ত্রণের বিকল্প পরিকল্পনা রয়েছে। ইরানিদের বিশ্বাস, একজন নেতাকে হত্যা করলে তিনি শহীদে পরিণত হন। ফলে, ইতিহাস এখানে সতর্ক করে। ১৯৮০ সালের ‘অপারেশন ঈগল ক্ল’ ব্যর্থ হয়েছিল ইরানি প্রতিরোধে নয়, বরং অতিরিক্ত লজিস্টিক আত্মবিশ্বাসে। ইরানের ভূপ্রকৃতি অহংকারকে শাস্তি দেয়।

এর চেয়েও গুরুত্বপূর্ণ হলো—এ ধরনের হত্যাভিত্তিক হামলা যে বিভাজন ঘটাতে চায়, উল্টো সেই ঐক্যই তৈরি করতে পারে। শিয়া রাজনৈতিক সংস্কৃতি শহীদ তত্ত্বে গভীরভাবে প্রোথিত। বাইরের আঘাত সাধারণত কঠোরপন্থীদের শক্তিশালী করে, মধ্যপন্থীদের নয়। ২০০৩ সালে বাগদাদের পর থেকে আকাশপথে ‘রেজিম চেঞ্জ’-এর ধারণা ভালোভাবে টেকেনি।

তৃতীয় বিকল্পটি সবচেয়ে উচ্চাভিলাষী এবং সবচেয়ে বিপজ্জনক। এটি দীর্ঘমেয়াদি অভিযান, যার লক্ষ্য ইরানের সামরিক শক্তি, নিরাপত্তা কাঠামো ও রাজনৈতিক নেতৃত্বকে ধীরে ধীরে দুর্বল করা। কয়েক সপ্তাহ বা মাস ধরে আইআরজিসির অবকাঠামো, কমান্ড সেন্টার, ক্ষেপণাস্ত্র বাহিনী ও অভ্যন্তরীণ নিরাপত্তা ইউনিটগুলোকে লক্ষ্যবস্তু করা হবে। উদ্দেশ্য—এমন এক ক্ষমতার শূন্যতা সৃষ্টি করা, যাতে নেতৃত্ব আত্মসমর্পণ বা পতনে বাধ্য হয়।

এটি অসম্ভব নয়। কিন্তু ব্যয়বহুল। হুমকির মাত্রা অনুযায়ী

ইরান অবশ্যই এর প্রতিক্রিয়া জানাবে। নিম্ন পর্যায়ে তারা ইরাকে মার্কিন স্থাপনায় আঘাত বা হরমুজ প্রণালিতে নৌ চলাচলে বিঘ্ন ঘটাতে পারে। উচ্চ পর্যায়ে—যদি তারা মনে করে শাসনব্যবস্থার অস্তিত্বই ঝুঁকিতে—তবে ব্যাপক উত্তেজনা ছড়িয়ে আঞ্চলিক যুদ্ধে রূপ নিতে পারে, যেখানে উপসাগরীয় রাষ্ট্র ও ইসরায়েল জড়িয়ে পড়বে।

ইসরায়েলের ভূমিকা পরিস্থিতিকে আরও জটিল করে তোলে। তাদের স্বার্থ সীমিত, কিন্তু তীক্ষ্ণ। ইরানের শাসনব্যবস্থা যদি দুর্বল হয়, ইসরায়েলি জেটগুলো স্পষ্টতার অপেক্ষা করবে না। তারা ইরানের সামরিক অবকাঠামো ধ্বংসে ঝাঁপাবে—যেমনটি তারা আসাদের পতনের পর সিরিয়ায় করেছিল। ইসরায়েলের দৃষ্টিতে, এমন মুহূর্ত ক্ষণস্থায়ী এবং কাজে লাগানোই বুদ্ধিমানের।

সবশেষে ফিরে আসি মূল সমস্যায়: কৌশল। ধোঁয়া কাটলে ওয়াশিংটন কী চায়? বিলম্বিত পারমাণবিক কর্মসূচি? দুর্বল শাসনব্যবস্থা? নতুন সরকার? একটা স্পষ্ট উদ্দেশ্য না থাকলে, সামরিক অভিযান আসল কাজ না করে শুধু ক্ষমতা দেখানোর উপলক্ষ হয়ে দাঁড়ায়। ইরান প্রশ্নে প্রয়োজন অতিরিক্ত সংযম। হয়তো ফিউজ জ্বলছে। কিন্তু ইতিহাস বলে, যুদ্ধ কীভাবে শুরু হলো তার চেয়ে গুরুত্বপূর্ণ, তা কীভাবে শেষ করার পরিকল্পনা ছিল। আর সেই প্রশ্নে ওয়াশিংটনের অবস্থান আজও বিস্ময়করভাবে অস্পষ্ট।

লেখক : রাজনৈতিক ও আন্তর্জাতিক সম্পর্ক বিশ্লেষক। 

এই লেখাটি প্রকাশিত হয়েছে :

১. দৈনিক ইত্তেফাক, ঢাকা : ০১ ফেব্রুয়ারী, ২৬

২. দেশ রূপান্তর, ঢাকা : ০১ ফেব্রুয়ারী, ২৬

৩. সময়ের আলো, ঢাকা : ০২ ফেব্রুয়ারী, ২৬

৪. দৈনিক সংবাদ, ঢাকা : ০৫ ফেব্রুয়ারী, ২৬