Nobody can blame the people of Bangladesh for their sensibility. We are overflowing with emotions—whether it’s politics, cricket, or personal matters. But when it comes to showing sensibility toward others, especially those who are suffering, that’s a different story. Empathy and compassion for others seem as foreign to us as a distant, unreachable land.

The victims of enforced disappearances, along with their families, have endured unimaginable torment. Their suffering doesn’t end with the abduction; it spirals into a deep psychological decline. Both the victims and their loved ones are left grappling with crippling depression, anxiety, a sense of powerlessness, guilt, and post-traumatic stress. And when the victims are finally released, they are warned, by the very people who abducted them, not to speak about their disappearance. 

The interim government has established a commission to investigate cases of enforced disappearances. It is now the commission’s responsibility to reach out and listen to these victims and their families. For many, this will mean revisiting painful memories and deep fears, some of which are still raw and unhealed. To handle this process properly, the commission must proceed with extreme care and sensitivity. However, the recent notice issued by the commission reveals a disturbing lack of empathy. The insensitivity and lack of respect for the victims reflected in the notice is deeply concerning.

Unfortunately, the recent notice issued by the commission fails to reflect this. Instead, it reveals a worrying lack of sensitivity and respect for the victims—both those who were forcibly disappeared and their families. The language used in the notice is not just bureaucratic, but deeply offensive.

The notice distinguishes between “victims” (assumed to mean those abducted) and their relatives, as though the suffering of those left behind is somehow lesser. This distinction is harmful and denies the truth that families of the disappeared are victims in their own right. They have suffered through months, sometimes years, of fear, anguish, and uncertainty. To imply that they are not central to this tragedy is both unjust and insensitive.

Moreover, the notice ‘asks’ for complaints about forced disappearances but fails to make a compassionate ‘request’ for submissions. It comes across as a mere checklist—a formality—rather than a genuine call to assist victims in their pursuit of justice. This bureaucratic tone does a disservice to those who have already endured so much suffering.

Perhaps most distressing is the list of mandatory requirements for submitting complaints: detailed specifics about the incident, including the place, date, and time, as well as names, addresses, phone numbers, and other identifying information. What happens if a victim cannot remember every detail? What if they are too afraid to provide such information? Are their stories any less valid if they cannot comply with these rigid demands?

The notice also states that both the complainant and the accused (or the institution responsible) will be contacted for further action. This raises serious concerns. What if a victim simply wants their story heard without triggering further investigation? What if they fear retaliation and do not want their accused abductors to be contacted at all? The notice provides no room for such nuances, leaving victims to choose between remaining silent or facing a process they may not want to engage in.

The omissions in the notice are equally concerning. There is no mention of mental health support for complainants, who are being asked to revisit horrific memories, sometimes very recent, without any assurance of counseling or psychological care. The commission expects people to reopen old wounds, but does nothing to acknowledge or alleviate the mental toll this process can take.

There is also no promise of confidentiality. What if a victim wishes to remain anonymous? What assurances do they have that their identity will be protected, that they will be shielded from further harm? And what of the practicalities? There is no indication that the commission will offer legal representation or cover the costs of travel for complainants. Are victims expected to bear these burdens themselves, simply to seek justice?

All of this points to a commission that is not prepared to carry out its investigation with the sensitivity it requires. More concerning still is the limited scope and timeline of the commission’s mandate. Originally given just 45 days, the commission now has a three months to investigate cases. Anyone who deals with criminal investigation in Bangladesh will tell you that this is hardly enough time to conduct a basic inquiry, let alone delve into complex cases involving forced disappearances of an estimated 600 people .

Furthermore, the commission’s activities will inevitably have legal implications. Its language, actions, and findings could set important legal precedents in both civil and criminal cases. The way the commission frames its communication and conducts its investigation will likely influence future court rulings and the pursuit of justice for victims. Thus, it is crucial that the commission not only uses precise, respectful language but also takes appropriate, well-considered actions. Any misstep, whether in wording or procedure, could have long-lasting consequences, affecting the ability of victims to seek justice and the integrity of the legal process itself.

Additionally, the scope is disappointingly narrow, focusing only on the previous Awami League government. The interim government could have expanded its investigation to cover all instances of disappearances since independence, providing a clearer understanding of how this practice began and why it has become so widespread. A thorough investigation into the roots of this issue could foster a national reckoning, helping the public understand why such abuses were allowed to proliferate and persist.

The government and the commission must rethink their approach if they are serious about addressing this grave human rights violation. Forced disappearances are not only crimes against individuals—they are assaults on free speech and democracy itself. We must not fail the victims and their families by responding with bureaucratic indifference. The commission has the power to bring some measure of justice and healing to those affected. It must, however, act with the sensitivity and care these cases demand.