Draft Cyber Law Revisions Could Still Be A Tool for Silencing Dissent

Zillur Rahman | 12 November 2026
No image

If one intends to silence the media, there is no need to put every critical journalist or investigative reporter in jail. Just a handful of examples are enough to convey the message that uncovering crime or corruption may get a journalist harassed, arrested, dragged into expensive legal proceedings, or driven into bankruptcy. Frightened, many will stop writing critical stories or asking uncomfortable questions, leaving the powerful free from public scrutiny. Censorship is thus often established without formal bans or sweeping restrictions, but through fear and the selective punishment of a few.

Bangladesh knows this all too well. The 2024 uprising was meant to mark a departure from this authoritarian policy that, under the Sheikh Hasina regime, found its most potent expression in the cyber security law. However, attempts to amend the law in recent months have raised fresh doubt about whether the country can decisively break away from that legacy or will end up restoring the tools used to suppress dissent. 

In response to consultations with civil society, the government has now reportedly made 12 revisions in the draft cyber law. The revised draft has yet to be released publicly, but from what has been reported, we must admit that some of the changes seem quite positive. Rumour will no longer mean just any unverified information; it should be proven false to qualify as a rumour. Defamation penalties will align with those in the Penal Code of 1860. Journalists and media outlet owners will be granted certain guarantees against being arrested, and provisions allowing the use of mobile courts to investigate certain cybercrimes will be excluded.

However, these concessions still fail to address the basic concerns. The revisions disclosed by officials don’t seem to show the government’s willingness to give up control over speech. The most alarming of them is that the proposed punishment for spreading rumours stays the same: up to 10 years in prison and/or a fine of up to Tk 40 lakh. Even with the narrowed definition, such severe punishment creates a major risk as the authorities decide what counts as false information.

Journalistic practice often involves dealing with allegations that governments deny. Information on corruption, electoral irregularities, and deaths in custody often emerge through unofficial channels because official institutions are historically secretive and lack transparency. Who decides whether a piece of information is actually false? A government accused of something? The police receiving a complaint? The official in question whose reputation is damaged?

Once the state becomes the judge of what is true or not, the ability to check the facts will depend on the state’s approval. Bangladesh knows well what happens when vague cybercrimes become tools of intimidation. According to a study by the Centre for Governance Studies and the TrialWatch initiative of the Clooney Foundation for Justice, 222 cases filed between 2018 and 2023 under the Digital Security Act (DSA) resulted in the criminalisation of 396 journalists. Among the 30 cases that were investigated in-depth, 27 journalists were arrested, half of whom were held for more than a month. Twenty practised self-censorship, and three left journalism forever. Of course, in hindsight, this dataset provides a partial view as the full picture of the total damage caused by the DSA—and its successor, the Cyber Security Act (CSA)—has yet to be established. 

But it is clear that successful prosecution was not necessary to hurt someone or enforce censorship. Arrests, uncertainty, expensive legal processes, and reputational damage could do the job. The process that one targeted by the law had to go through became a punishment in itself. That is why the proposed protections for journalists are important but still insufficient. It is good news that the arrests and prosecution of journalists and media owners for publishing information will require prior court approval. But why should ordinary citizens with political views have fewer protections? As Dr Iftekharuzzaman, executive director of Transparency International Bangladesh (TIB), noted in his comment on the revisions, protecting journalists but no other citizens may lead to an unfair distinction. Freedom of expression is a constitutional right of every citizen, not just journalists, researchers, activists or politicians.

Another serious gap in the draft is the part on search, seizure and arrest without a warrant (sections 33, 34 and 35), which the revised version has left unaddressed. These provisions may be especially damaging when applied to journalists who keep their sources confidential.

The changes to the provision on blocking content are also inadequate. Authorities will have to notify their decisions within three days and dispose of the application to unblock the content within 15 days. This requirement cannot replace the judicial approval of censorship—notification after censorship is not equivalent to protection from censorship.

Aligning defamation penalties with the Penal Code also seems like a wrong step. Reducing the proposed maximum imprisonment period from five to two years does not solve the main problem: criminal prosecution should not be available for disputes of a reputational nature, which should be resolved through proportional civil remedies.

Moreover, there are concerns about the provisions for cancelling a media organisation’s registration or licence after conviction, especially for an individual’s offence. It is quite excessive and unreasonable to punish the whole institution for the deeds of its members.

Undoubtedly, the government faces certain cybersecurity problems. Cybercrimes like hacking, fraud, sexual exploitation, harassment, blackmailing and even AI-generated abuse require proper legal measures. But protecting citizens from cybercrimes and protecting the government from criticism are completely different goals. The Editors’ Council’s recommendations are more plausible: judicial oversight of arrests, search, seizure, and surveillance; protection of confidential sources; protection of public interest reporting; and protection against penalising media outlets for a single publication.

The government should remove criminal penalties for rumours and defamation, strengthen judicial oversight, and provide protection to all citizens without distinction. Its readiness to revise the draft is good news, but real change would be impossible without renouncing the idea that online criticism is a threat to be controlled. 

Above all, Bangladesh cannot, and should not, rely on mere assurances that restrictive laws will not be misused. The DSA and CSA proved how easy it is to transform legal tools into weapons of intimidation. The only test of press freedom is journalists’ ability to investigate and embarrass the government without fear of imprisonment. The country needs an effective cybersecurity law, not another tool for controlling public opinion.

Zillur Rahman is a political analyst, President of the Centre for Governance Studies (CGS) and Founding Board Chair of CGS USA. He hosts Tritiyo Matra on Channel i and writes on geopolitics, strategic affairs and governance. Follow him on X: @zillur.

This News was publish on the Daily Star.

Views in this article are author’s own and do not necessarily reflect CGS policy.    



Comments