Another child is brutally murdered. How long will we allow that?

A society’s moral condition is often revealed through the way it treats the most vulnerable sections of its population, including children. A country may build mega-projects or undertake feel-good social programmes, but if children cannot walk safely to school, play freely near their homes, or feel safe around the adults in their lives, then the foundations of that society remain deeply troubled. Bangladesh is now being forced to confront this reality following a series of vicious crimes against children that have shocked the public, exposing a disturbing erosion of social values.

The latest of these crimes involved seven-year-old Ramisa Akhter, who was raped and murdered in Dhaka’s Pallabi area on Tuesday, May 19. Police recovered her decapitated body from a flat next to her family’s around 11:00am, with the accused, Sohel Rana, 30, detained later in the day. Ramisa was a bright student, a topper in her class. The Daily Star’s report on the incident described how her academic trophies lay carefully arranged at her home, with her family still in a state of disbelief. Roll number one in class, disciplined, focused, and beloved by teachers, she represented the hope every parent carries. But the end she met—her headless body found hidden under the neighbour’s bed, with her head in a bucket in the bathroom—is something that feels beyond comprehension.

Before this incident, we came across news of four-year-old Humaira Jannat in Rajshahi’s Durgapur, who had vanished while playing near home last Friday. Her father announced a reward on Facebook while neighbours searched nearby ponds and bushes through the night. The next afternoon, her body was found beneath a date tree. Earlier this month, another four-year-old, Fahima Akhter, was raped and murdered by a neighbour in Sylhet. The culprit allegedly hid her body inside a suitcase under his bed for two days before dumping it into a pond. Last week, in Thakurgaon, yet another four-year-old was discovered dead inside a cornfield. And this Saturday, a 10-year-old was raped and strangled to death allegedly by a relative in Munshiganj. These incidents collectively form a horrifying map of the nation’s moral degradation.

It is difficult to process any brutal murder, but when a child is subjected to it, no sane person can encounter it without feeling a profound sense of shock and anguish. What makes the above crimes particularly terrifying is not just the brutality, but also the familiarity surrounding the perpetrators. The children were not targeted by mysterious strangers from distant places. Most were harmed by neighbours, relatives, trusted adults, or familiar faces living within their social environment. Clearly, the traditional assumption that homes and neighbourhoods are safe spaces for children no longer holds in the way it once did. Parents are increasingly discovering that danger does not always lurk in darkness or the unknown. Sometimes it comes from the next apartment, even the next room.

This shift forces us to reckon with how quickly the boundary between familiarity and danger has begun to blur, but also to take a more critical look at ourselves. Where do these perpetrators come from? How could they bring themselves to do what they ended up doing? Is it just the lack of punishment for such crimes that is to blame? Or are there deeper reasons? Psychologists have long warned that repeated exposure to violence gradually normalises cruelty within society. Albert Bandura’s social learning theory explains how human beings internalise behaviour by observing others. When societies repeatedly witness violence without meaningful consequences, empathy weakens and aggression becomes culturally tolerated. A brutalised society eventually produces brutal individuals, and Bangladesh seems to be firmly headed in that direction.

But there is room for more incisive discussion on that. Sigmund Freud argued that civilisation survives through the suppression of humanity’s destructive instincts. When institutions weaken—as they have in Bangladesh—and moral restraints collapse, the primitive impulses hidden beneath social order begin to surface. The frightening reality is that many of today’s perpetrators of violence against children do not appear outwardly monstrous. They often live ordinary lives until something ruptures internally. Addiction, frustration, pornography, social alienation, economic despair, and untreated psychological disorders can all intensify violent tendencies.

Moreover, given how things are unfolding, our society is increasingly becoming emotionally numb. News of murdered children now competes with celebrity gossip, political theatrics, and viral distractions on social media timelines. Public outrage erupts briefly before disappearing into the next cycle of outrage. This pattern creates dangerous psychological fatigue. Still, we cannot allow crimes such as those described above to be something our children are forced to wake up to everyday.

The state must fulfil its responsibility in ensuring justice for such crimes so as to prevent their repetition. The authorities must ensure that investigations into these crimes are swift, trials are conducted efficiently, and child protection units are expanded. Communities also need stronger reporting systems for abuse. Digital surveillance of repeat offenders and predators must be improved. Schools also need professional counsellors to address trauma and emotional wounds among children. But institutional steps alone cannot solve a crisis so deeply rooted in moral decay.

Families, educational institutions, religious leaders, media organisations, and cultural platforms must all confront the underlying truths about the environment our children are growing up in. Children are observing how adults speak, joke, consume entertainment, treat women, handle anger, and exercise power. Violence against children does not emerge from emptiness. It grows gradually within cultures where domination—and the violence it produces—becomes normal and empathy becomes costly.

The image that perhaps captures this national tragedy most painfully is not Ramisa’s murder itself, but her sister staring silently at the trophies after her death, as reported by this newspaper. Those trophies symbolised dreams, hope, and possibility. But they could not protect her or lead to her fulfilling her potential. Every murdered child also leaves behind unfinished homework, abandoned toys, and traumatised families who must continue living in unbearable silence. In Bangladesh, we often speak proudly about building a better future. But no future can truly exist if children themselves are unsafe within their own homes and neighbourhoods.

H. M. Nazmul Alam is an academic and analyst, currently teaching at the International University of Business Agriculture and Technology (IUBAT). He can be reached at nazmulalam.rijohn@gmail.com.

Views expressed in this article are the author's own. 

Follow The Daily Star Opinion on Facebook for the latest opinions, commentaries, and analyses by experts and professionals. To contribute your article or letter to The Daily Star Opinion, see our guidelines for submission.