Chaos is a ladder
In the chaos that has engulfed Bangladesh, the events of the past few days resemble the grim narratives of political intrigue and moral decay found in the most captivating of fictional tales. In Game of Thrones, Petyr Baelish, known as Littlefinger, proclaimed: "Chaos isn't a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail, and never get to try again. The fall breaks them. And some are given a chance to climb, but they refuse. They cling to the realm, or the gods, or love... illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is." This philosophy—where disorder serves as an opportunity rather than an obstacle—is chillingly relevant to what is unfolding in Bangladesh today.
A nation that once stood on the pillars of its hard-fought independence now finds itself in a whirlpool of political and social anarchy. The recent wave of protests, vandalism, and arson directed at establishments linked to the ousted Awami League reflects more than just frustration—it signifies a power vacuum, an opportunity for new players to rise. Like in Littlefinger's philosophy, the opportunists of our time are not looking to stabilise the chaos but to exploit it, to climb to positions of power and influence while the common people bear the brunt of instability.
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel. As students and citizens take to the streets, setting ablaze structures symbolic of political dominance, the question arises: what is the endgame? Is this an organic uprising against oppression, or is it the strategic dismantling of an old order to make way for a new one? This is where Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight trilogy offers a poignant analogy.
In The Dark Knight Rises, Bane, the revolutionary anarchist, speaks of giving power back to the people. Yet, his ultimate goal is the total destruction of Gotham. His brand of chaos is one that seduces the desperate and downtrodden into believing in justice while, in reality, it serves his own thirst for vengeance and control. Similarly, in Bangladesh, we must ask: who benefits from this upheaval? The students and common people leading the charge may believe they are fighting for justice, but history teaches us that revolutions often create vacuums that are quickly filled by new oppressors.
Littlefinger's philosophy suggests that the chaos itself is a mechanism to enable those with ambition to rise. It is a ruthless reality where idealists are crushed beneath the weight of calculated opportunism. When disorder reigns, it is not necessarily the just who prevail, but rather the cunning.
From history to fiction, power vacuums have always been exploited by those who see chaos as a means rather than a tragedy. In Batman Begins, Ra's al Ghul aims to destroy Gotham because he believes it has become corrupt beyond redemption. Yet, it is Bruce Wayne, as Batman, who realises that true justice is not about annihilation but restoration. Today, Bangladesh stands at a crossroads. Will this turmoil lead to true reform, or will it merely replace one form of tyranny with another?
Historically, those who claim to fight against dictatorship often use the disorder to build their own thrones. Already, we see actors in Bangladesh maneuvering to position themselves advantageously amid the chaos. The burning of houses and murals, the tearing down of symbols, the aggressive restructuring of power dynamics—these are not just spontaneous acts of rebellion; they appear to be calculated moves in a larger game.
Consider the ousted ruling party: once powerful, now embattled. Its fall is reminiscent of those who cling to the illusions Littlefinger described—whether it be the illusion of control, of loyalty, or of permanence in power. But if the fall of one regime is inevitable, who is climbing in its place?
Oppositions, long silenced, see this as their moment to step forward. Various factions—some with new system, some extremist—are poised to fill the gap. But will their rule be any different? History warns us that those who seize power in moments of chaos rarely return it to the people. The Taliban in Afghanistan, the Jacobins in revolutionary France, the Bolsheviks in Russia—all rose from disorder promising justice, only to impose regimes as brutal as the ones they replaced.
In The Dark Knight, the Joker thrives on chaos, exposing how easily people abandon morality when faced with fear. The greatest tragedy in Bangladesh's current predicament is that the very people who demand justice may unwittingly be fuelling a machine that will later crush them. The anger of students, the frustration of workers, and the disillusionment of common citizens are all being manipulated by unseen hands. The same masses who set fire to the halls of power may later find themselves trapped in the flames of a new tyranny.
Even in fictional Gotham, Bruce Wayne realised that fighting crime with crime, or injustice with more injustice, was a self-defeating cycle. The real solution was to offer a vision beyond the flames. Bangladesh today needs that vision. It needs leadership that does not see the chaos as a ladder but as a warning—a reminder that if the root causes of unrest are not addressed, the country will remain in a perpetual cycle of destruction and exploitation.
What is most concerning is the absence of a coherent alternative. If the current establishment falls, what replaces it? The opportunists will surely rise, but will they govern justly? Without a clear plan, without a commitment to actual reform, the fires burning across the country will not mark the end of oppression but merely the start of another chapter of turmoil.
We must ask ourselves: Who are the Littlefingers of Bangladesh? Who is manipulating the chaos for personal gain? And who, if anyone, is truly fighting for justice rather than just another throne? If Bangladesh does not answer these questions soon, it risks plunging into a deeper abyss—one where the cycle of power-hungry opportunists never ends.
Chaos is not inherently liberating. It is merely a tool—one that, if left unchecked, benefits only those who know how to wield it. As Bangladesh stands on the brink, its people must decide: will they build a future from the ashes, or will they merely provide the stepping stones for another generation of rulers who see only the ladder?
H. M. Nazmul Alam is an academic, journalist, and political analyst. He can be reached at nazmulalam.rijohn@gmail.com.
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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