MEDIA REFORM COMMISSION Weighing promises, possibilities, and limitations

by Mir Hojaifa Al Mamduh

THE intensity of the July movement escalated following a press conference held at Ganabhaban on July 14, 2024. After returning from an official visit to China, the fallen prime minister Sheikh Hasina delivered a lengthy explanation addressing the quota reform movement. The most controversial aspect of her remarks, however, was her framing of the entire movement through the binary of the freedom fighters and ‘razakars’ (war collaborators). Labelling the protesters as ‘razakars’, she said, ‘If the quota is not for the grandchildren of freedom fighters, then should it go to the grandchildren of razakars?’ To many young people, this comment was akin to branding the protesting students with the deeply stigmatising label of ‘razakar.’ Almost immediately after her remarks, slogans of resistance spread across campuses and streets: ‘Who are you, who am I? Razakar, razakar! Who said it, who said it? Autocrat, autocrat!’

During the previous government’s tenure, media outlets largely operated in alignment with the government, with only a handful of exceptions. The primary reason for this lay in media ownership. Most of the country’s media expansion took place during the Awami League’s 15 years in power, and throughout this period, obtaining media ownership effectively required political loyalty. Prospective owners not only had to remain loyal to the Awami League but also commit to advancing the party’s agenda through their media institutions.

For instance, in their application for Independent Television, Salman F Rahman and Nazmul Hassan Papon pledged to contribute to the implementation of the Awami League government’s programmes. Similarly, an application for Global Television was submitted by a former Awami League member of parliament, who stated that the channel sought to broadcast with the aim of building a non-communal, democratic, and poverty-free Bangladesh inspired by the ideals of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. Media outlets that secured registration through such commitments went on to faithfully uphold those pledges throughout the period. This was especially evident during the movement, when television channels largely avoided reporting on injuries and deaths among protesters, and many instead portrayed the demonstrators as ‘miscreants’.

A second major factor was the material benefits journalists received during the Awami League government, ranging from residential plots and apartments to foreign travel and other privileges. As a result, many chose political alignment over professional journalism, which became more apparent during the last days of Awami League regime. On 24 July 2024, Sheikh Hasina held an opinion exchange meeting with journalist leaders. According to a report by Bangladesh Sangbad Sangstha, the then editor of Bangladesh Pratidin described the protesters as ‘saboteurs’ and called for identifying them and taking legal actions against them. Other journalist leaders attending the meeting also pledged loyalty to Sheikh Hasina, stating that they were ‘ready to do anything for her.’

In addition, the enactment of various repressive laws and their arbitrary application nearly shut down the space for public-interest journalism. A study by the Centre for Governance Studies found that between 2018 and September 2023, cases were filed against 451 journalists under the Digital Security Act 2018, of whom 255 were accused for their reporting.Against this backdrop, following the fall of the Hasina government in August 2024, all stakeholders came to recognise the urgency of reforming the country’s media landscape.

The interim government, therefore, initiated media reform efforts upon assuming power. As part of this process, an 11-member commission was formed on 18 October 2024, led by Kamal Ahmed. Comprising journalists, academics, government officials, and student representatives, the commission produced a comprehensive report. The report incorporated feedback from 45,000 respondents, official documents, and insights from consultations held across the country. It assessed the overall condition of the media by examining ownership structures, sustainable business models, working conditions of journalists, and legal constraints.

Commission’s report deserves recognition

THE Media Reform Commission formed under the initiative of the interim government represents a necessary institutional intervention, primarily as an opportunity to bring long-accumulated structural crises in the media sector into the centre of policy debate. Both the formation of the commission and the scope of its work are significant given the current political context, because issues of ownership, control, legal barriers, labour structures, and the relationship between the state and the media have been examined in an integrated manner for the first time. As a result, the commission’s analysis establishes a functional reference framework for future media policymaking.

One of the most notable aspects of the commission is its composition. The commission attempted to include representatives from all relevant stakeholders, including journalists, academics, government officials, media owners, and students. This inclusiveness allowed diverse perspectives to be reflected in the report, rather than a one-sided narrative. Moreover, to ensure that the voices of field-level journalists were heard, consultation meetings were held not only in Dhaka but also in divisional cities and in the hill districts. This helped to break the capital-centric approach and present a more comprehensive picture of the country’s media landscape.

The most striking strength of the report lies in its thematic breadth. The report offers an integrated analysis of multiple layers of the media structure: obstacles to independent journalism, state and legal control mechanisms, ownership and business models, financial and professional security of journalists, and questions of inclusion concerning women, Indigenous peoples, and persons with disabilities. Such a multidimensional and inclusive discussion remains rare in the country’s discourse.

A particular achievement of the commission is its effort to connect historical developments with contemporary political realities. The report openly documents how journalists have been repressed during different regimes since independence, how media ownership has gradually concentrated in the hands of politically affiliated individuals, and how journalists’ positions have shifted during transitions from one government to another. This degree of institutional self-critique is new, and the courage to articulate these realities despite political pressure deserves appreciation.

The analysis of media ownership is also particularly important. The report presents data-driven accounts of the ownership histories of newspapers, television channels, radio stations, and online news portals, including their political affiliations and patterns of ownership transfer. At the same time, it engages candidly with issues such as market dominance, the proliferation of fly-by-night publications, and the lack of transparency in advertisement distribution.

The report’s impartial critique of state-owned media institutions is likewise commendable. It notes that Bangladesh Television, which initially functioned as an autonomous institution, was transformed into a government entity through an ordinance in 1972, leading it to evolve from a platform for independent journalism into a state-dependent propaganda apparatus. To illustrate partisan practices, the report cites the testimony of a producer who stated that they were instructed to use the phrase ‘development activities of the Awami League government’ instead of ‘development activities of the government’ in their programmes. Similarly, Bangladesh Betar and Bangladesh Sangbad Sangstha are also described as having functioned largely as government mouthpieces, particularly as propaganda instruments of the Awami League government. As a consequence, individuals loyal to the ruling party reportedly lobbied for employment in these institutions, resulting in an increasing presence of non-journalists rather than professional journalists. The report further notes that these institutions have become more bureaucratic than journalistic in character.

Finally, the commission’s recommendations form a coherent policy framework that aligns closely with its preceding analysis. The report identifies structural weaknesses in ownership models, labour rights, the legal environment, professional security, and institutional governance of the media, and its recommendations seek to address these problems by outlining a practical roadmap for reform. In this sense, the report goes beyond merely describing the present crisis; it also proposes a direction for future policymaking.

Taken together, the report can be regarded as a foundational document in the ongoing discussion on media reform in Bangladesh. While it may not answer every question, it remains an invaluable initiative for understanding the current crisis in journalism and for constructing a policy-oriented framework for the future.

Missing dimensions of the report

DESPITE its strengths, the Media Reform Commission’s report contains several notable gaps. One of the most significant is its reliance on a largely normative understanding of the media. As a result, the report tends to view the media as an isolated institution, as if it operates without external pressures, alliances, or entanglements beyond itself. In this framing, the media appears as a neutral instrument for disseminating truth and objective information. In reality, however, the media has never functioned in this way. Rather, media institutions are fundamentally shaped by the political ambitions of their owners.

Business groups establish media institutions primarily to protect their commercial interests, and such establishments always carry their own agendas. Media ownership, therefore, determines the full range of editorial priorities, leaving journalists with little or no room to operate beyond those agendas. Yet the commission fails to examine the political economy of the media: how media structures function to fulfil the objectives of those in power. Nor does the report address how the media outlets that spent 15 years under the Awami League regime engaging in propaganda journalism rather than professional reporting should be held politically accountable or subjected to any process of reckoning in the post-uprising period. The report is also silent on how accountability mechanisms should be structured to shape journalism going forward. In the post-uprising period, we are already witnessing instances where even neutral journalism is being labelled in politically charged ways, a development that poses serious risks to the profession itself.

THE commission also fails to fully recognise the media as an industry in its own right. Media is not merely a public service; it is a profit-driven industry. Profit inevitably brings capital control, and capital control produces a fundamental contradiction with journalism’s responsibility to question power. It is impossible to grasp the current media crisis without understanding this tension. Yet the report oscillates between viewing the media through normative theories as the ‘fourth pillar of the state’ and, in other places, treating it as an industry. As a result, the report inconsistently assigns the responsibilities of a democratic watchdog in some contexts and the obligations of an industry in others. This theoretical inconsistency appears to have prevented the commission from addressing the root causes of Bangladesh’s media crisis.

One-sidedness in historical narrative

The report also appears to present a somewhat one-sided historical account. While it documents repression under the most recent government, it largely sidesteps media suppression during periods of military rule and under BNP-led governments. This omission is significant, as the history of direct state intervention and media shutdowns begins as early as the Ershad era. During the 1980s, under Hussain Muhammad Ershad’s rule, numerous newspapers and magazines were shut down for publishing critical content, and many publications were banned under the Special Powers Act.

Later, under subsequent BNP governments, media repression can be observed in at least two distinct phases: 1991–1996 and 2001–2005. In the 1990s, alongside direct censorship, indirect economic pressure was widely used as a tool of punishment, particularly through the withdrawal of government advertisement from newspapers that were critical. In 2006, the enactment of the Labour Act repealed the Newspaper Employees (Conditions of Service) Act, 1974, dismantling a separate labour-law protection framework for journalists. As a result, many hard-won gains related to professional independence and collective bargaining were absorbed into the general labour law, weakening journalism-specific protections. By overlooking this broader continuity and almost exclusively concentrating on the repression perpetuated by the recent government, the report’s historical narrative remains incomplete.

The period from 2001 to 2005 was particularly severe. Incidents of violence, abduction, and killings increased sharply. Journalists such as Tipu Sultan, Manik Saha, and Humayun Kabir Balu were attacked or killed. Despite the involvement of government-aligned militant groups and religious extremists in such incidents, no effective action was taken. During the same period, the government also directly targeted broadcast media. The shutdown of Ekushey Television in 2002 stands as one of the most extreme examples of media suppression.

In both periods, however, journalists played a visibly resistant role. Through protests, human chains, and the formation of organisations such as the Forum to Protect Journalists, media workers collectively fought to defend professional independence and freedom of expression.

Absence of new media

ANOTHER major shortcoming of the Media Reform Commission’s report is its lack of discussion regarding new media. The report focuses primarily on newspapers, television, and a limited number of online news portals. Yet the contemporary media reality is overwhelmingly shaped by social media platforms. Newspapers now produce video content for Facebook, YouTube, and TikTok; television channels maintain separate YouTube operations and re-edit broadcast programmes for social media circulation. For many media institutions, a significant share of revenue now comes directly from YouTube.

The very character of media has undergone a fundamental transformation as well. Previously, a newspaper functioned as a coherent, unified body of content, and television news bulletins were presented as a single, integrated package. That structure no longer exists. On YouTube and social media, each video or news item creates its own market. Every story becomes an individual commodity, and its survival or disappearance depends on institutional revenue and cost calculations.

The expansion and dominance of social media have also dramatically increased the circulation of misinformation and disinformation. Social media platforms effectively grant nearly everyone the capacity to act as a news distributor, enabling anyone to present almost anything as ‘news.’ This happens frequently, and in many cases false or misleading information spreads widely as a result. While the commission’s report does address questions of factual accuracy, it fails to seriously engage with the transformation of social media into a primary news medium. As a consequence, the report does not adequately examine the fundamentally changing nature of the media itself.

No full analysis of profit and loss

ANOTHER major weakness of the report is the absence of a thorough profit-and-loss analysis. A media outlet draws revenue from multiple streams: print copy sales, e-paper subscriptions, online and corporate advertising, and video content distributed through social media. Yet the commission’s report does not map these streams. If it had, it would have been possible to identify which sectors are actually keeping media institutions alive, and where the prospects for long-term sustainability genuinely lie.

The report also avoids a detailed discussion of why many business groups continue to sustain media outlets for years despite operating at a loss. This question matters because it is central to understanding the political economy of Bangladesh’s media. A deeper analysis would help to clarify what interests are being protected through the maintenance of loss-making media ventures, and how those interests shape editorial behaviour and institutional power.

Many media organisations maintain connections and partnerships with foreign non-governmental organisations. Any serious mapping of the media landscape should address the politics of those NGOs: what agendas they may seek to advance through partnerships with local media outlets, and how such relationships influence media priorities, framing, and institutional incentives. In Bangladesh’s media reality, this is not a peripheral issue. It is essential, and within this discussion lie some of the most revealing truths about how the media system actually functions.

Trade unions and media labour

THE issue of journalists’ trade unions is largely absent from the report. There is no discussion of the institutional structures through which media workers could collectively negotiate with the industry to secure their rights under labour law. In the absence of strong trade unions, media industries are able to exploit news workers with relative ease. Because low-cost labour is readily available, many mid-career journalists are losing their jobs; media houses can employ multiple low-paid workers for the salary of one experienced journalist. As a result, journalistic quality declines while many journalists are pushed into unemployment and long-term precarity.

The recent death of senior journalist Bibhuranjan Sarkar of Ajker Patrika has once again brought the profession’s deep economic insecurity into public discussion. This underscores why journalism urgently needs strong trade unions that work exclusively to protect journalists’ interests.

However, explaining the crisis of journalistic labour solely through the absence of trade unions would be incomplete. From a legal standpoint, media organisations are already meant to operate under the labour law. Journalists possess constitutional and legal rights to unionise, and minimum protection mechanisms such as wage boards formally exist. Yet, in practice, there is little political or institutional will to enforce these laws. Many media organisations deliberately avoid listing journalists as ‘employees,’ instead classifying them as contractors or contributors in order to nullify their labour claims. As a result, although legal protections exist on paper, they rarely apply inside the newsroom.

Another important social factor is also at play here. Many journalists themselves are reluctant to see themselves as workers. A professional culture that associates journalism with prestige often treats a labourer identity as something inferior. This mindset weakens union-based organising, limits membership, and makes news workers more easily manageable for owners. In other words, this is not solely a matter of employer repression; the professional culture itself acts as a barrier to building organised labour power.

This dual crisis — legal non-enforcement and resistance to a labourer identity — prevents the formation of stable newsroom structures. The dismissal of experienced journalists and the routine removal of mid-level workers in the name of cost-cutting have become normalised today. The consequences directly affect journalistic qualities: sustainable teams do not form, investigative and risk-bearing journalism becomes difficult, and professional independence erodes. Such an environment of precarity that led to Bibhuranjan Sarkar’s death is, therefore, not merely a personal tragedy; it is a stark symbol of the deep structural insecurity embedded in journalistic labour.

Way forward

DESPITE these limitations, the report establishes an important starting point. This is where the biggest test lies for the new government. It now faces at least three urgent tasks: first, to develop a clear implementation roadmap for the Media Reform Commission’s recommendations; second, to reduce direct and indirect state control over the media and establish an effective independent regulatory framework; and third, to adopt practical policies to ensure journalists’ labour rights, safety, and professional stability. Beyond this, simply creating new institutions or changing administrative structures does not, in itself, guarantee reform.

Mir Hojaifa Al-Mamduh is a researcher and political analyst.