R. Tahsin Jahan of the Department of Development Studies at Dhaka University secured first class first in the 2023 undergraduate examination with a CGPA of 3.95 out of 4.00. In recognition of this extraordinary achievement, she was meant to receive the Dean's Award. Yet, she chose to reject that highly coveted recognition—the culmination of four years of relentless hard work, countless sleepless nights, and pure merit.

Why?

Tahsin's own statement on social media clarifies the reasoning behind her decision. Her refusal is not a stance against the award itself, but rather a protest against a university system where a student's political identity can dictate their right to education—and even their physical safety.

According to Tahsin, she became the target of a mob attack in 2024 due to her political identity. Despite having no involvement in any violence, she faced immediate threats within her own university. She was obstructed from appearing in her final oral examination and submitting her undergraduate thesis. At one point, it became impossible for her to return to campus safely.

A few faculty members from her department courageously stood by her side. With their support, she completed her degree by attending her oral exam online from a safe location. She subsequently secured an opportunity for higher studies at Harvard.

Tahsin was fortunate. But what about those who were not?

Following political shifts, numerous allegations have surfaced across various public universities regarding students whose academic lives were disrupted solely due to their political identity. A student may align with any political ideology—whether Awami League, BNP, Jamaat, left-leaning, or any other. If they commit an offense, they should face trial under existing laws, through the formal justice system. But can a political identity ever serve as a license to revoke someone's right to enter a classroom?

If a mob decides who gets to enter campus, who sits for exams, and who remains safe—then why do the Vice-Chancellor, Proctor, Syndicate, and university administration exist?

A university is not the private property of whichever political force comes to power. If a transition of power merely swaps the identities of the oppressor and the oppressed, it cannot be termed true change. If persecuting someone over political identity was wrong yesterday, how does doing the exact same thing today become justified?

Tragic incidents like those involving Tofazzal, Masud, and Shamim have served as stark reminders of where mob culture leads a society. The administration's responsibility does not end with issuing condolence messages after someone is attacked or killed by a mob. Enabling a mob does not always require overt endorsement—remaining silent in the face of its injustice is often more than enough.

The government's responsibility is even greater. If the changes in 2024 were truly meant to champion democracy, non-discrimination, and justice, why are students detached from academic institutions over their political identities still unable to return without fear? Why can the government not state unequivocally that crimes will be tried in a court of law, not at the hands of a campus mob?

It is easy to confer an award upon a brilliant student. It is equally simple to honor them for a 3.95 CGPA. The true challenge lies in standing up to protect that student's rights when they happen to fall out of favor with the majority.

Tahsin's rejection of the Dean's Award is not a moment of pride for Dhaka University; it is an occasion for deep self-reflection. An institution that wishes to reward a student's merit must first guarantee their right to education and personal safety.

And to those who declare, "We are the alternative, we are the change," a reminder is necessary: changing the seats of power, swapping the face of the oppressor, or altering the identity of the oppressed does not constitute real change.

Changing the identity of a mob does not transform it into justice. Changing the identity of the victim does not render an injustice legitimate. If justice is not extended to one's opponent, whatever remains for oneself is not justice—it is privilege.

Author: ABM Kamrul Hasan, Expatriate Physician and Columnist