M A Hossain
History does not repeat in the same way, yet it often carries a rhythm. What happened in South Asia today. In Sri Lanka, young men and women broke into the presidential palace. In Pakistan, university grounds turned into battlefields. In Bangladesh, the streets overflowed with students mourning their dead. In Nepal, restless youth defied curfews with defiance in their eyes. The grievances differ—corruption in one place, inflation in another, failed governance everywhere. But the sequence is familiar. The choreography does not change. The panorama is clear; young protesters ignite movements, institutions reel under pressure, political systems enter paralysis, and a new force waits in the wings. This is no accident of history. It is a pattern, and like all patterns, it has an author.
A Familiar Hand
The convenient explanation for these uprisings is domestic failure. South Asia’s politicians are corrupt, opportunistic, and frequently incompetent. They betray their electorates with astonishing regularity. But to reduce this wave of unrest to internal dysfunction alone is to miss the forest for the trees. The Western deep state—the shadowy confluence of intelligence services, foreign policy elites, NGOs, and media ecosystems—has been writing this script for decades.
Their preferred weapon is not invasion but persuasion. It is not tanks but hashtags. Call it “soft power,” though there is nothing soft about its consequences. The story follows a script: a corrupt government remains at the top, a brutal police force rules the streets, and innocent students are caught in the crossfire. Then comes the storm on social media, magnifying every image, every cry. The script is very familiar—first in Libya, then in Syria, later in Ukraine. Now, the very same template plays out again in Colombo, Islamabad, Dhaka, and Kathmandu.
New Military Order
Why would Washington, Brussels, or London pour resources into destabilizing fragile democracies? The answer is geographic arithmetic. Two giants stand at the center of Asia’s future—China and India. Both are shifting the weight of global power. Moreover, they anchor the Indo-Pacific sea lanes, the most important trade corridor of this century. The future of world commerce will not be decided in New York or London, but through the ports of Chittagong, Colombo, Karachi, and Hambantota. If these gateways remain under the sway of weak democracies, Beijing and New Delhi will dictate terms. But if they are militarized, Western capitals can reinsert themselves into the equation.
Here lies the logic. Armies, whatever their internal flaws, are seen as patriotic institutions. They are disciplined, hierarchical, and relatively insulated from the chaos of electoral politics. They are also easier to communicate with for external actors. One call to a general accomplishes what a hundred conversations with squabbling politicians cannot. It is therefore no surprise that the West prefers military-backed regimes in South Asia. Not because generals are Jeffersonian democrats, but because they are reliable interlocutors.
The Playbook
The method is brutally efficient. First, corrupt politicians are allowed to discredit themselves. Then, students—idealistic, energetic, and reckless—take to the streets. Inevitably, tragedy strikes. In Bangladesh, it was Abu Sayeed and Mir Mughdho, whose deaths from sniper fire turned a movement viral. In Nepal, it was the students shot not from police lines but from rooftops, bullets piercing heads and necks in precision patterns. Official accounts blamed police, but forensic details suggested military-standard sniper rifles—hardware not in the hands of local constabularies.
Once young martyrs fall, social media amplifies the outrage. The state responds defensively, then clumsily. Institutions fracture. The narrative becomes unstoppable: the government is illegitimate, the leaders are thugs, the police are murderers. Soon, politicians are forced out. A vacuum emerges. And in that vacuum, the military steps in—sometimes directly, sometimes through civilian proxies.
Consider Bangladesh. Within days of the August 2024 killings, Muhammad Yunus, a Nobel laureate but hardly a constitutional figure, returned from Paris to head an “interim government.” The Home Ministry was handed to a retired brigadier. When he revealed that the bullets killing protesters were military-grade, he was swiftly reassigned. The pattern could not be clearer: create chaos, insert a pliable regime, and secure Western approval.
The Geopolitical Strategy
This is not just about regime change for its own sake. It is about building buffers. A military-backed Sri Lanka with Western defense assistance could be transformed into a Singapore of the Indian Ocean—disciplined, trade-friendly, and strategically useful. A Pakistan steered by its generals offers predictability in dealings with Washington. A Bangladesh run under quiet military supervision provides a counterweight to both India’s regional ambitions and China’s Belt and Road investments. Nepal, landlocked yet crucial, becomes leverage over both New Delhi and Beijing.
To cement this order, Western economic aid will flow generously. Defense packages will include sophisticated technology. International media will applaud “stability.” And the youth who once believed they were liberating their nations will be forgotten—or worse, vilified as anarchists. This is how revolutions are hijacked and turned into counter-revolutions.
Perhaps the most chilling dimension of this playbook is the use of the sniper. The pattern is too consistent to dismiss. In Libya during the Arab Spring, anonymous gunmen fired from rooftops into crowds, sparking outrage and delegitimizing the state. In Dhaka, bodies were returned to families with head wounds inconsistent with police fire. In Kathmandu, students were killed deep within crowds, not at the barricades. NATO-standard rounds, telescopic accuracy, rooftop vantage points—these are not the weapons of riot police. They are the calling cards of hybrid warfare.
The genius, if one dares to call it that, lies in deniability. A sniper’s bullet in the head of a teenager is immediately blamed on the regime. Videos flood social media, emotions boil, and governments collapse under the weight of moral outrage. Yet the shooters themselves vanish into the fog, leaving behind only the narrative their sponsors intended.
India’s Vulnerable Moment
For India, the warning could not be more urgent. Already, efforts have been made to provoke mob violence in Ladakh. A different kind of Indian uprising has taken shape. It does not echo the farmers’ siege of Delhi in 2020, nor the anti-corruption fervor of Anna Hazare’s marches a decade earlier. This one carries the restless energy of a generation that was never expected to march into politics so soon—Generation Z. It takes only one shot to set a nation on fire. A hidden sniper on a rooftop in Delhi, Mumbai, or Kolkata could unleash chaos beyond control. The death of a student, caught on camera, would spread across the world in minutes. Images of bloodied youth would flood social media. Legitimacy of any Indian government could collapse overnight—not because of policy, but because of perception.
This is how regime change is attempted without an army, without an invasion, without even sanctions. It is warfare by proxy, where the most expendable soldiers are young men and women on the streets.
Illusion of Strong Neighbors
The West will argue that a militarized South Asia resembles stability. A strong Sri Lanka, a disciplined Pakistan, a controlled Bangladesh—why should anyone complain if the result resembles Singapore? But this is a mirage. What it really achieves is the decoupling of India and China from their immediate periphery. Instead of friendly or dependent neighbors, they will face fortified buffer states aligned with Western interests. The Indo-Pacific will not be shaped by Asian giants, but by external puppeteers.
What ties together the streets of Dhaka, the rooftops of Kathmandu, and the protests of Colombo and Karachi is not simply youthful anger. It is a plot, authored abroad, implemented locally, and executed with sniper precision. Students believe they are fighting for freedom. In reality, they are pawns in a larger contest over the Indo-Pacific’s future.
The lesson is harsh but necessary. Democracies in South Asia must reform themselves before others reform them. Politicians must curb their corruption, militaries must resist the lure of easy power, and citizens must learn to question the narratives fed to them. Otherwise, the region will remain a chessboard on which invisible players move their pieces with deadly accuracy.
These are dangerous times. The bullet that kills a student does not just end a life; it rewrites a nation’s destiny. And unless India and China understand the plot unfolding around them, the destiny being rewritten will not be theirs to control.
M A Hossain, Dhaka, Bangladesh. Senior Journalist, Covers South Asia and ASEAN region for The News Analytics Herald. He may be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com
This article published at :
1. The News Analytics Herald, India : November edition, 2025.
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