Barely three months after the Cyber Protection Act 2026 was first introduced, the government is already moving to tighten its grip on digital spaces. Official sources from the Home Ministry and the ICT Division have signaled that a series of aggressive amendments are in the pipeline, aimed at broadening the definition of cybercrimes and escalating the severity of punishments. While the government claims these measures are a necessary response to the growing threat of online chaos, the swiftness of this legislative pivot has raised significant eyebrows, as it grants new enforcement powers to a broader array of state bodies, including the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting and the National Telecommunication Monitoring Centre (NTMC).
The core of this legislative shift lies in the introduction of Section 26A, a sweeping new clause designed to criminalize the spread of “rumors” and “disinformation.” Under this proposed rule, those caught sharing unverified claims—or information deemed to cause social instability—could face up to a decade in prison and heavy fines of up to Tk40 lakh. The law’s language is intentionally broad, framing a rumor as anything that might trigger “confusion” or “panic,” and labeling disinformation as anything published with the intent to mislead. By institutionalizing these definitions, the state is effectively positioning itself as the final arbiter of truth, giving law enforcement an expansive mandate to decide what constitutes a valid news report versus a punishable offense.
A primary driver behind this sudden legislative urgency is the rapid advancement of artificial intelligence. Policymakers are acutely aware of the dangers posed by “deepfakes” and AI-generated content, which can be weaponized to create convincing but entirely fabricated videos, audio clips, and imagery. By targeting the creation and dissemination of such media, the government intends to protect the reputation of state institutions and prominent public figures. However, by lumping AI-generated misinformation in with general “disparagement” and “defamation,” the amendment creates a dragnet that covers everything from malicious state-sponsored smear campaigns to the everyday, perhaps clumsy, digital interactions of ordinary citizens.
The stakes for personal expression are rising significantly under the proposed modifications to Section 25. The scope of this section is set to expand to explicitly include “defamation” and “disparagement,” with penalties reaching up to five years in prison. What makes these updates particularly stringent is the sliding scale of punishment: if an individual’s digital post is deemed to target a woman or a minor, the potential prison sentence doubles to 10 years, accompanied by a staggering Tk40 lakh fine. This focus on vulnerable groups is framed as a protective measure, but critics argue that without precise legal boundaries, it could easily be weaponized to silence legitimate dissent or criticism directed at powerful figures, under the guise of “defamation.”
From the government’s perspective, these updates are not just desirable but essential. High-ranking officials have expressed frustration over the constant barrage of misinformation targeting the state, top-tier politicians, and civil servants. They argue that the current digital landscape has become a “Wild West” where the reputation of the country and its leadership is constantly under fire from malicious actors. In their view, the law is simply catching up to the realities of the digital age, providing the necessary tools to maintain social order and national integrity in an era where a single viral post can spark widespread unrest.
However, many legal experts and technology advocates view this path with deep skepticism. There is a prevailing fear that the government is drifting back toward the dark days of the Digital Security Act, a law infamous for being used to stifle free speech and intimidate journalists and activists. Critics like Miraj Ahmed Chowdhury of Digitally Right have warned that these amendments are a major step backward, likely to result in widespread abuse by authorities and a further erosion of Bangladesh’s international standing regarding online freedom. Ultimately, while the government promises security, civil society warns that the price of such “protection” may well be the silencing of the public square.