On 20 December 2025, the Dhaka University Central Students’ Union (DUCSU) announced its intention to change the names of university halls, invoking public sentiment surrounding the martyrdom of Sharif Osman Hadi. In a press release, DUCSU also threatened to “encircle” the Vice Chancellor’s office, language that, in popular understanding, signals coercion and mob pressure rather than democratic engagement. Eventually, they succeeded in renaming Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman Hall as Shaheed Sharif Osman Hadi Hall.
Renaming university halls, in itself, is not controversial. What is alarming, however, is the pattern and method through which this is being pursued. Across multiple universities, student bodies have proposed the same four names: Abrar Fahad, Felani Khatun, Abu Sayeed, and Sharif Osman Hadi. The uniformity of these proposals, presented as “unanimous” across campuses, demands scrutiny.
The justification offered is that these individuals are martyrs of resistance against Indian hegemony and imperialism. Yet Bangladesh has witnessed many figures martyred in anti-imperialist struggles from its inception. What links three of these four names—excluding Felani Khatun—is that they were all previously labelled as Islami Chhatra Shibir members by the fallen Awami League regime. This selective elevation of symbols reveals a political project, not a neutral act of remembrance.
What we are witnessing is an attempt to construct new sacred personalities. History should make us cautious. The Awami League, over many years, turned Sheikh Mujibur Rahman into a figure beyond criticism, using constitutional authority, social control, and state power to criminalize dissent. Criticism of Mujib became synonymous with treason, and dissenters were branded “Rajakars,” facing harassment, intimidation, and legal persecution.
Jamaat–Shibir appears to be following a similar path—but at a much faster pace. By mass-renaming institutions after a narrow set of figures, they risk transforming martyrs into untouchable symbols, where criticism of ideology is reframed as moral or national betrayal. Already, since the death of Sharif Osman Hadi, individuals who had previously criticized his politics have faced backlash both online and offline. Any dissent is now branded as being an “India’s dalal,” reviving the same culture of political tagging that once silenced opposition.
In a democracy, martyrdom does not nullify debate. Psychologist Rona M. Fields, in her 2004 book Martyrdom: The Psychology, Theology, and Politics of Self-Sacrifice emphasizes that the Political Martyrs, even those who die unjustly, should be open to ideological scrutiny. Otherwise, symbols meant to represent resistance become tools of domination.
A hopeful contrast has emerged from women’s halls on university campuses. Historically, while male halls were captured by dominant student wings, female halls often resisted illiberal control. The 2019 DUCSU election demonstrated this clearly, and the 2025 election has repeated the pattern. While most male halls were won by Islami Chhatra Shibir-backed panels, many women’s halls elected independent candidates or leaders from new political formations born out of the July 2024 uprising.
The case of Bangamata Sheikh Fazilatunnesa Hall is telling. Its student council president publicly stated that DUCSU attempted to rename their hall without consulting the legally elected hall council. She revealed that an internal poll had favored naming the hall after Captain Sitara Begum rather than Felani Khatun. For this, she faced coordinated harassment and accusations of being an Indian collaborator—many from individuals outside Dhaka University. Under pressure, a second poll was conducted, where the name of Captain Sitara Begum again won overwhelmingly.
Felani Khatun remains a powerful symbol of resistance against Indian oppression, violence, and hegemony. However, no name, however emotionally resonant, should be weaponised to silence dissent or delegitimise alternative choices. Symbols lose their moral force when they are imposed through intimidation.
At a time when many feared confronting a new dominant force in student politics, women students once again showed that resistance is possible. They remind us that democracy is not built through enforced unanimity, but through consent, debate, and the protection of disagreement. If we fail to learn from our past, today’s martyrs may become tomorrow’s instruments of repression.
