Following Mamdani’s groundbreaking NYC mayoral election, the Bengalis (mostly Dhaka-based middle class) were searching for a Bangladeshi Mamdani. It didn’t take long for them to start comparing the democratic socialist with a fascist mayor, Anisul Haque. This ridiculous act, however, is a perfect example to learn about fascism and its victims.
Fascism, especially in fragile democracies like Bangladesh, doesn’t begin with tanks or terror – it begins with aesthetics. It doesn’t need to declare itself; it just needs to look good doing what democracy couldn’t. Fascism thrives on visibility – on shiny, well-lit, photo-friendly projects that convince the masses that “something is finally working.” This is how it disguises rot as progress.The strategy is simple. When political legitimacy starts to erode, fascism pivots to performance. The leader becomes a brand. Infrastructure turns into propaganda. Roads, bridges, tunnels, and flyovers – all symbols of “development” – are marketed as proof that a corrupt, violent, and unaccountable regime is somehow “delivering.” What used to be about human dignity or justice turns into a fetish for concrete and glass.
The voters – or, more precisely, the subjects of fascism, as I like to call it – become its most reliable defenders. Not because they’re evil or conspiratorial, but because they’re seduced and mostly irrational. They confuse infrastructure with progress. The apolitical middle class, comfortably distant from the victims of police violence or enforced disappearances, become the most enthusiastic consumers of authoritarian branding. They don’t see the prisons, the censorship, the intimidation; they see metro rail reels and air-conditioned transportation.
This blindness is not accidental. It’s the fascist regime’s greatest weapon. By offering visible symbols of “development,” it buys silence and even admiration. The gleam of mega projects becomes a moral shield against any talk of corruption or abuse. When confronted with evidence of injustice, the apolitical class retreats to the same tired defense – “At least the country is developing.” In that sentence lies the emotional core of fascist success: a people who would rather be impressed than be free.The case of Anisul Haque fits perfectly into this pattern. His legacy, now being romanticized by Dhaka’s middle class, is built on the illusion of cleanliness and order. As mayor, he cleaned parts of the city – especially the airport area. But beneath the trimmed greenery and destroyed illegal billboards was a deeper collaboration with a regime defined by corruption, power politics, and human rights abuse. In my opinion, his “achievement” was not urban reform; it was the normalization of authoritarian efficiency. He made the dictatorship look civilized, even admirable – after a year of ousting the fascist regime.
The romanticism around Anisul tells us more about the romanticisers than about the man himself. These are the same people who still worship, or want to worship, Sheikh Mujib as “Bangabandhu.” The same ones who participated in the 2024 dummy election and posted pictures of their ink-stained fingers. They are the ones who used to ask for alternatives (Bikolpo koi?) when we criticised the Awami League.
Iftekhar Tamim, an independent writer.
