The spectacle of Muhammad Yunus rolling out the red carpet for Leyla and Arzu Aliyeva (the scandal-stained daughters of Azerbaijan’s authoritarian president) would have been baffling even in calmer times. But in a moment when Bangladesh is already navigating a political transition, diplomatic scrutiny, and a fragile economic environment, the entire affair feels like a self-inflicted wound. And like most wounds that nations suffer, this one was enabled not by foreign adversaries but by the judgment, or misjudgment, of domestic actors who should have known better.
For decades, Bangladesh fought hard to project itself as a country that overcame poverty, instability, and corruption to become a responsible member of the global community. One reckless meeting is not enough to erase those gains, but it certainly stains the country’s reputation at a moment when such reputational damage is the last thing Dhaka can afford.
The core of the issue is not simply that Yunus met two foreign dignitaries. Diplomacy allows for many such contacts, some constructive, some ceremonial. The real scandal lies in who these visitors are, what they represent, and why Yunus and his circle chose to legitimize them. The Aliyeva sisters are not benign philanthropists. They are the public faces of a dynasty long implicated in corruption, offshore laundering networks, and influence-buying across Europe. Their presence in Dhaka is not simply unusual. It is alarming.
Let’s start with the optics, because in diplomacy optics often reveal motives long before official statements do. Yunus proudly posted on Facebook that the sisters were in town to discuss humanitarian and environmental initiatives—phrases that often serve as the polite diplomacy of choice for people hoping others won’t ask probing questions. Yet what stole headlines was not the meeting but the object Yunus handed them: a book whose cover depicts India’s northeastern states as part of Bangladesh. It is difficult to overstate how foolish, provocative, and strategically disastrous that gesture was. No responsible statesman—interim or permanent—would risk destabilizing relations with New Delhi for a photo-op with offshore aristocracy.
And if this was simply the blunder of an unprepared host, then the incompetence is staggering. But if it was deliberate, the implications are worse.
The Aliyev family has a track record that should have raised every red flag inside Bangladesh’s interim administration. Transparency International once labeled Ilham Aliyev “corruption’s person of the year.” European Parliament investigators uncovered sprawling offshore corporations tied to his children. The Pandora Papers linked them to luxury properties from Baku to London. Pilatus Bank, the Maltese institution exposed by slain journalist Daphne Caruana Galizia, became a conduit for Azerbaijani elite money—some of it allegedly connected to the Aliyevs.
None of this is obscure knowledge. It is open-source information, available to anyone with a basic understanding of international affairs. Which raises the real question: Why did Yunus, the head of an interim government, ignore what the world already knows?
There are several possibilities, none of them flattering.
One theory is that Yunus is attempting to cultivate new patrons. Bangladesh’s economy is strained; its political roadmap is uncertain; its foreign alliances are shifting. In such conditions, weak governments often look for wealthy foreign partners—especially ones willing to operate through non-transparent channels. But seeking legitimacy through association with a family infamous for hiding wealth in offshore havens makes Dhaka look like a willing participant in someone else’s laundering scheme.
Another theory is that Yunus is surrounded by advisers (political, social, financial), whose understanding of international politics is superficial at best. Incompetence can be forgiven in academia or civil society. In statecraft, it is lethal. If this administration truly believed that inviting the Aliyeva sisters would enhance Bangladesh’s global standing, it speaks to a breathtaking lack of judgment across the entire decision-making chain.
A third possibility—and perhaps the most troubling—is that Yunus and his cohorts are knowingly aligning with questionable foreign actors for private strategic gain. History is full of examples where transitional regimes became ripe targets for influence operations: from West African resource sectors infiltrated by oligarchs to Eastern European governments manipulated by offshore foundations posing as philanthropic organizations. Azerbaijan’s elite has long mastered the art of using charities, cultural institutes, and “goodwill visits” to expand influence in vulnerable states. Bangladesh, unfortunately, may now be drifting into that vulnerability zone.
Either way, the burden of responsibility rests squarely on Yunus and those around him who allowed this debacle to unfold.
Let’s return to that book—the one with the map. Diplomatic blunders involving cartography have started wars. Even the careless reproduction of disputed borders during official visits has caused international incidents. For Bangladesh, a country whose economic and security interests remain deeply intertwined with India, presenting a book that casts Indian territory as Bangladeshi territory is not merely an error—it is a provocation. And a needless one at that.
It also gives New Delhi every reason to question the strategic literacy of the interim leadership. Nations can survive many things—corruption, mismanagement, political turmoil—but they cannot survive losing the confidence of key neighbors.
The Aliyeva sisters’ visit also puts Bangladesh at risk of becoming a footnote in another global laundering operation. Investigations across Europe and the Middle East have shown how the Azerbaijani elite use humanitarian fronts to sanitize reputations, build alliances, and move capital discreetly. When Yunus and his circle parade such figures as partners in “youth” and “environmental” initiatives, they do more than welcome visitors; they import reputational liabilities directly into Bangladesh’s political bloodstream.
And that is the tragedy: Bangladesh gains nothing. No strategic advantage. No commercial opening. No diplomatic breakthrough. What it gains instead is suspicion—from India, from Western partners, from global institutions monitoring corruption and illicit finance.
There is also a matter of political ethics. For decades, Yunus cultivated an image of transparency and moral clarity. Even his critics acknowledged his ability to win Western admiration. Yet this episode shows a willingness to entertain questionable actors for reasons that do not align with Bangladesh’s national interest. And his colleagues in the interim administration, instead of safeguarding the country’s dignity, assisted in turning Bangladesh into a stage for one of Eurasia’s most controversial political families.
In the end, the damage is both symbolic and substantive. Symbolic, because it tarnishes Bangladesh’s image abroad. Substantive, because it signals to other actors—foreign and domestic—that the country’s leadership may be distracted, naïve, or open to influence.
The people of Bangladesh deserve a government, interim or permanent, that exercises judgment, protects national dignity, and avoids entanglement with dubious foreign elites. They also deserve transparency about how and why this meeting occurred, who approved it, and what was offered in return.
If Yunus and his circle cannot provide those answers, then the problem is far bigger than one ill-advised photo-op. It is a crisis of credibility—one that Bangladesh can afford at this moment in its history.
