From Nuremberg to Dhaka: Autocracy in the mirror of confession

As we know, under international criminal law, a "confession" is not limited to an accused person admitting guilt in court. Its scope is broader and can be categorised into several types:

Direct Confession: A straightforward admission of the crime by the accused or a close associate. For example, a senior official giving testimony as a state witness.

Unintentional Confession: A statement made in an attempt to justify or cover up a crime, which inadvertently confirms involvement or reveals the underlying policy behind the crime. For instance, claiming that the violence was necessary for "state security" or to "suppress extremism."

Evidentiary Confession: Leaked audio, video, or classified documents that clearly expose the planning or ordering of the crime. Even without the speaker’s intent, these become evidence against them.

Legally, a strong confession helps connect the weakest links in the "chain of command." It establishes a direct causal relationship between on-the-ground violence and top-level directives—something that is often difficult to prove with other forms of evidence.

In Bangladesh’s case, the evidence that surfaced in July–August represents a powerful combination of all three types of confession.

At the centre of the July–August events is a leaked audio recording allegedly featuring the voice of then-prime minister Sheikh Hasina, in which directives such as the use of “lethal weapons” and orders to “shoot wherever they are found” were reportedly given.

Forensic verification of the recording—particularly ENF (Electric Network Frequency) analysis—by international media outlets including the BBC and Al Jazeera has elevated it from a mere allegation to the level of an evidentiary confession.

This is a statement captured in an unguarded or unintended moment, which could serve as evidence of a policy-level decision and intent to use violence, emanating from the highest level of the state.

Much like the video recording of a corruption-related meeting between Peruvian dictator Fujimori and his intelligence chief Vladimiro Montesinos, which served as irrefutable evidence in court, this audio recording is even more serious—because it directly relates to orders involving the loss of human life.

One of the most dramatic and legally significant developments in the July–August 2024 cases of state-sponsored violence was the reported decision of then-Inspector General of Police (IGP), Chowdhury Abdullah Al-Mamun, to turn state witness in relation to the killings. As the highest-ranking official in the law enforcement chain of command, his testimony effectively ends any debate over the "chain of command." His statement could demonstrate that:

a) The police and other security forces did not fire independently or in self-defence.

b) They received clear and direct orders from the highest levels of authority.

c) A well-organised operational structure was in place to execute these orders.

Such a confession forms a living bridge between the leaked audio directives and the footage of on-the-ground killings (such as those verified through ballistic analysis by Drik Lab). It effectively eliminates any avenue for plausible deniability—a defence strategy often used by authoritarian leaders to avoid responsibility.

Unintentional confession: The official narrative and subsequent actions
During and after the protests, various ministers and leaders of the Awami League government attempted to justify the violence by labeling protesters as “terrorists,” “agents of Jamaat-BNP,” and “anti-state forces.”

In the eyes of international law, such statements also qualify as a form of unintentional confession. They reveal that the state had designated a specific group as an enemy and had adopted the use of force against them as a matter of state policy.

The report by the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) cites incidents such as the erasure of CCTV footage from hospitals, obstruction of medical treatment for the injured, and the failure to conduct an independent investigation afterward. Each of these actions serves as evidence of a coordinated attempt to conceal crimes—strongly pointing toward a planned, state-sponsored operation.

To fully understand the combined weight of these three forms of confession, we must turn to history.

The prosecution of the Nazis relied primarily on evidentiary confessions. Their bureaucratic habit of meticulously documenting everything became their own trap. Various decrees, orders, and meeting minutes presented a detailed picture of their crimes.

However, at Nuremberg, there was no audio evidence of Hitler personally ordering mass killings. While there were individual confessions from some associates, such as Albert Speer, there was no instance of a top figure from the chain of command—like Bangladesh’s police chief—turning state witness.

A landmark moment in the trial of the Rwandan genocide was the guilty plea by prime minister Jean Kambanda—making him the first head of government to accept responsibility for genocide. However, Kambanda’s confession came after the genocide had already occurred, and he accepted guilt as an individual.

Bangladesh’s case is different: here, the 'directive' from a top leader is evidenced through an audio recording, and its “implementation” is supported by the testimony of the police chief. Together, they present far stronger evidence than a single confession alone.

In the case of the Srebrenica massacre, military commanders like Ratko Mladicć were prosecuted based on video footage and eyewitness testimony. A key confession came from Drazen Erdemovic, a Bosnian Serb soldier whose testimony played a vital role in establishing the facts.

However, Erdemovicć was a low-ranking soldier. His confession helped trace accountability upwards within the military hierarchy.

In contrast, the confession of Bangladesh’s police chief demonstrates the downward flow of orders from the top of the chain of command, which carries significantly more legal weight. One of the ICTY’s greatest challenges was proving a direct link between top political leaders like Slobodan Milosevicćand the killings on the ground.

These comparative examples highlight how the chain of confessions related to the July–August 2024 events in Bangladesh has positioned the case in a category of its own within the history of prosecuting authoritarian regimes. This is a situation where:

(a) There is an evidentiary confession in the voice of the top leader;

(b) There is a direct confession from the head of the main implementing agency (the police); and

(c) There is an unintentional confession from the state apparatus itself.

Together, these three elements form an unbreakable legal narrative.
Where in other historical trials lawyers had to piece together scattered bits of evidence into a kind of “mosaic,” the Bangladesh case presents a picture that is already strikingly complete on its own.

The potential testimony of the police chief may emerge as a game changer—capable of definitively establishing the criminal intent of the highest leadership beyond reasonable doubt.

In the digital era of the 21st century, the Bangladesh case stands as a stark example of how difficult it has become for authoritarian rulers to hide their crimes. When the truth of a careless moment captured through technology converges with confessions born from conscience, it can become one of the most powerful forms of evidence in the record of history.

If these pieces of evidence are presented in a neutral judicial process, it would not only mark a historic milestone for Bangladesh, but also set a new global precedent in establishing command responsibility in the prosecution of crimes against humanity.

The countless videos of indiscriminate killings from July–August of last year in Bangladesh—widely available online—combined with analyses from international media, have created an unprecedented convergence of evidence. To borrow the language of poetry: “history now bends under the weight of overwhelming proof.” That very weight may become the foundation for justice in the future.

*Arif Rahman is a writer and researcher

*The views expressed are of the author's own.