Dela Rosa, a former national police chief and one of the principal architects of Duterte’s war on drugs, has remained inside the Philippine Senate building for a third consecutive day after Senate leaders blocked attempts by authorities to serve an ICC arrest warrant.

The senator, widely known by his nickname “Bato,” faces accusations of crimes against humanity, specifically murder, alongside Duterte and other alleged co-perpetrators linked to the anti-narcotics crackdown that rights groups say left thousands dead.
“I am not appealing for violent support.

I am appealing for peaceful support,” Dela Rosa told reporters, urging military personnel and fellow graduates of the Philippine Military Academy to publicly oppose any move by President Ferdinand Marcos Jr.’s administration to surrender him to international authorities.

Outside the Senate complex in Manila, approximately 500 riot police were deployed as several hundred demonstrators gathered to demand Dela Rosa’s arrest and extradition to the ICC. Protesters described him as a central figure in the deadly anti-drug campaign launched during Duterte’s presidency.

Dela Rosa served as Philippine police chief from 2016 to 2018, overseeing the early and most intense phase of Duterte’s crackdown on narcotics. Human rights organizations and international investigators have alleged that many of those killed were low-level drug suspects and users.

Duterte himself was arrested in March last year and transferred to The Hague on the same day, where he remains in detention awaiting trial before the ICC.

Dela Rosa had largely avoided public appearances since November before resurfacing this week during a Senate vote that enabled Duterte-aligned lawmakers to secure leadership control of the chamber.

The Senate’s new leadership has stated it would permit Dela Rosa’s arrest only if directed by a Philippine court rather than solely on the basis of the ICC warrant.

A spokesperson for Marcos said on Tuesday that the president would not interfere in Senate decisions regarding the matter.

The Philippine Supreme Court has yet to rule on Dela Rosa’s petition seeking to block the government from enforcing the ICC arrest order.

Judges said the reparations would mainly take the form of collective rehabilitation measures, including educational programs, vocational training and psychological support, with particular focus on women and girls who suffered persecution under the religious police overseen by Al Hassan.

Al Hassan was convicted in June 2024 on eight counts of war crimes and crimes against humanity for helping run the morality police established by the Ansar Dine Islamist group after militants seized Timbuktu, a historic desert city in northern Mali.

The court said women and girls were among the worst affected because their daily lives were tightly controlled under the group’s strict interpretation of sharia law. They were required to wear specific clothing and could leave their homes only under strict conditions, leading many to fear going outdoors.

Judges found that Al Hassan took part in or was present during public floggings and other punishments carried out by the religious police, which caused severe trauma to both victims and witnesses.Because Al Hassan is unable to personally pay the reparations, judges asked the ICC’s Trust Fund for Victims to help finance the compensation measures.

The fund has until January next year to submit an implementation plan for judicial approval.Reparations are a formal part of ICC proceedings following convictions, and the court currently has five other active reparation orders being administered through the Trust Fund for Victims.

Al Hassan was sentenced to 10 years in prison. Having already spent around six years in custody before his conviction, he is expected to be released soon.The ICC, the world’s only permanent war crimes tribunal, has been investigating crimes committed in Mali since 2012, when Islamist armed groups linked to Ansar Dine took control of northern cities including Timbuktu.

French and Malian forces later recaptured the city in 2013.

Briefing the Security Council via video link, ICC Deputy Prosecutor Nazhat Shameem Khan said investigators had uncovered proof of mass killing events and deliberate concealment through makeshift burial sites. The assessment was based on satellite imagery, verified video footage, audio recordings, and corroborated testimony from affected communities.

The crimes were linked to the RSF’s seizure of El-Fasher in October, which marked the fall of the Sudanese army’s last major stronghold in the Darfur region. Khan said the evidence showed a consistent pattern of organised violence rather than isolated incidents.

According to the ICC, footage reviewed by prosecutors showed RSF fighters detaining civilians, subjecting them to abuse, executing them, and later celebrating the killings. Khan added that some videos also depicted the desecration of bodies, reinforcing allegations of extreme brutality.

The findings align with reports from civil society organisations and humanitarian groups that documented widespread atrocities following the RSF’s advance. Reports of sexual violence, abductions, looting, and targeted killings emerged soon after the city fell under paramilitary control.

Sudan has been locked in a devastating civil war since April 2023, with fighting between the Sudanese army and the RSF killing tens of thousands of people. The conflict has displaced more than 11 million civilians and triggered what the United Nations describes as the world’s largest humanitarian and hunger crisis.

Khan told the Council that the atrocities in El-Fasher mirrored earlier violence in West Darfur’s capital, El-Geneina, where UN experts estimated between 10,000 and 15,000 people were killed in 2023. Most victims there belonged to the Massalit ethnic group, raising concerns of ethnically motivated violence.

She said the emerging picture was one of widespread and organised criminality carried out with a sense of total impunity. Without accountability, she warned, such crimes would continue unchecked.

The ICC also renewed calls for Sudanese authorities to cooperate with international justice mechanisms. Khan urged the government to ensure the surrender of individuals subject to outstanding arrest warrants issued by the court.

Those named include former Sudanese president Omar Al-Bashir, former ruling party chairman Ahmed Haroun, and ex-defence minister Abdul Raheem Mohammed Hussein. All are wanted in connection with earlier atrocities committed in Darfur.

Khan stressed that Ahmed Haroun’s arrest should be prioritised. Haroun faces dozens of charges for crimes against humanity and war crimes related to his role in mobilising the Janjaweed militia during the Darfur conflict of the 2000s, a force that later evolved into the RSF.

Despite escaping prison in 2023, Haroun has since reappeared publicly, rallying support for the Sudanese army. The ICC said this highlights the ongoing challenge of enforcing international warrants amid Sudan’s continuing instability.

Khan addressed the Security Council remotely after being denied a visa to travel to New York, citing sanctions imposed against her by the United States. She said the restrictions would not deter the ICC from pursuing accountability for crimes committed in Sudan.

The briefing underscored growing international concern that without decisive action, the Sudan conflict will continue to generate mass civilian suffering, while perpetrators remain beyond the reach of justice.

This was not a case of crowd control gone wrong. This was a premeditated act of state terror.

On July 16, 2025, Bangladesh witnessed one of the darkest and bloodiest chapters in its recent history. What unfolded in Gopalganj was not a random outbreak of violence—it was a calculated, state-sponsored massacre, deliberately executed by the interim government of Nobel Peace Prize laureate Muhammad Yunus. This regime, which came to power under the banner of restoring democracy, justice, and human rights, has now exposed its true face: repressive, authoritarian, and dangerous.

The government forces—comprising both police and military—opened fire on unarmed demonstrators in the heart of Gopalganj. At least four people were confirmed dead and more than a hundred sustained injuries. The deceased have been identified as Dipto Saha (25), Ramzan Kazi (24), Sohel Molla (35), and Imon Talukder (28)—all ordinary citizens. What they faced on that fateful day was anything but ordinary. Their crime? Defending the legacy of the Father of the Nation, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, against a political organization that was permitted to spew venom unchecked.

The crisis was sparked by provocative and deeply offensive statements made by the National Citizens Party (NCP), a fringe group that enjoys the quiet backing of the Yunus administration. During their “March to Gopalganj” rally, NCP leaders vowed to “bury Mujibism” and destroy Bangabandhu’s mausoleum. For the people of Gopalganj—who consider Bangabandhu’s memory sacred—this was an open declaration of war.

In response, residents from various parts of the district, including Gandhiyashur, Ulpur, Chowrasta, and the old bus terminal, began gathering peacefully to protest these threats. These were not armed rebels or political militants. These were farmers, students, day laborers, and shopkeepers—united not by political affiliation but by a common sense of justice and respect for the country’s founding leader.

But instead of diffusing tensions or holding the NCP accountable, the government treated these peaceful demonstrators as enemies of the state. Troops and police descended on the crowd, opening fire without warning. Tear gas filled the air. Live bullets ripped through flesh. Social media videos show soldiers stomping on wounded protesters, dragging lifeless bodies, and making sure that those on the ground would not get up again.

The brutality was not limited to the moment of confrontation. Several reports indicate that bodies were secretly removed. In one particularly harrowing video, a police officer can be heard saying of a gravely injured man, “He’s pretending to be dead,” before tossing him like garbage into a police van. In another clip, white tissue protrudes from a bullet wound in a young man’s abdomen.

This was not a case of crowd control gone wrong. This was a premeditated act of state terror. The fact that multiple agencies coordinated this attack across several sites, under the watch of senior government advisors, makes it even more chilling. Sources reveal that the advisors for Home, Law, and Local Government were monitoring the situation in real-time from Police Headquarters, ensuring a seamless execution of this violent suppression.

From a legal perspective, the actions of the Yunus administration are indefensible. Articles 31, 32, and 35 of the Constitution of Bangladesh guarantee the right to life, personal security, and due process. None of these constitutional protections were upheld in Gopalganj. The victims were neither charged with crimes nor given a chance to defend themselves. They were summarily executed.

Domestic law—including the Police Act, the Code of Criminal Procedure (CrPC), and military conduct regulations—clearly stipulate that the use of deadly force must meet three criteria: necessity, legal authorization, and proportionality. None of these thresholds were satisfied. No police officer or soldier was harmed. No government property was destroyed. And yet, lethal force was used.

The crimes in Gopalganj also constitute clear violations of international law. Articles 3 and 5 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights affirm the right to life and the right to be free from cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment. Articles 6 and 7 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), to which Bangladesh is a signatory, prohibit arbitrary killing and torture by state actors. These treaties are not just symbolic—they carry binding legal obligations.

Most significantly, under Article 7 of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (ICC), a “widespread or systematic attack directed against any civilian population” with knowledge of the attack constitutes a crime against humanity. The scale, coordination, and brutality of the crackdown in Gopalganj fit this definition. The state’s actions were not spontaneous reactions—they were carefully planned, organized, and executed.

Moreover, the psychological and political intent behind the crackdown—instilling fear in the populace and punishing dissent—aligns with the legal concept of persecution. The Rome Statute also defines persecution as a crime against humanity when it involves the intentional and severe deprivation of fundamental rights against a group or population.

The violence was accompanied by state-led information suppression. Mainstream media, many aligned with corporate interests or controlled by the administration, portrayed the protesters as aggressors. Headlines read, “Protesters Clash with NCP Supporters,” conveniently omitting the fact that the protesters were reacting to hate speech and threats against a national monument. Social media platforms saw posts taken down, accounts suspended, and internet speeds throttled to limit the spread of video evidence.

This chilling attempt to rewrite history in real-time is as dangerous as the violence itself. The Yunus administration not only targeted bodies in Gopalganj—it also targeted the truth.

It is also essential to question the deafening silence from the international community. In the past, Western governments, human rights organizations, and UN bodies have been quick to condemn incidents of far lesser gravity. Why then the muteness in the face of such a blatant and bloody abuse of power? The answer may lie in what experts call “strategic silence”—a diplomatic tactic used to maintain relationships with governments seen as useful for regional stability, investment, or geopolitical leverage.

This selective outrage is not just hypocritical—it is dangerous. It sends a message to repressive regimes that they can act with impunity, as long as they serve the right interests. But human lives are not bargaining chips. The people of Bangladesh are not expendable.

Muhammad Yunus, long hailed as a global icon of peace and innovation, now finds his name linked to one of the most heinous acts of state violence in the country’s history. His administration was not elected—it was installed. And with no democratic mandate, no transparency, and now no respect for life, it lacks all moral legitimacy.

Yunus cannot absolve himself by citing ignorance. As the head of government, he bears ultimate responsibility. The International Criminal Court must open a preliminary investigation into the events in Gopalganj. So must the UN Human Rights Council. Independent investigators must be granted immediate access to the affected regions, witnesses, and all government communications related to the crackdown.

Justice must also extend beyond prosecution. The families of the victims must receive reparations. Medical treatment must be provided to the wounded. And the right to protest—enshrined both in domestic and international law—must be restored and protected.

The world must speak now, not later. Every moment of silence adds another layer of injustice to the already unbearable burden borne by the victims’ families.

Let us also remember that this is not just a Gopalganj issue. It is a national crisis. Today it is Gopalganj—tomorrow it could be any district, any village, any street. This massacre marks a turning point in Bangladesh’s democratic journey. It is a test of our collective conscience, both within the country and beyond.

The names of Dipto, Ramzan, Sohel, and Imon are etched in blood into our national memory. Their deaths are not just personal tragedies—they are political warnings. Their sacrifice demands not only mourning but mobilization.

We urge all human rights defenders, legal bodies, international institutions, and concerned citizens of the world: do not let this massacre be swept under the rug. Demand accountability. Demand justice. Demand the truth.

The Yunus administration must be held accountable for crimes against humanity. Bangladesh cannot move forward if its people continue to be crushed under the boots of authoritarianism. Democracy is not built on the silence of the dead, but on the voices of the living demanding justice.

History will remember this day. And history will not forgive those who remained silent.