There are no scars, no wounds that a doctor can document. Yet she has learned to measure her every message, every outburst, every decision against an invisible surveillance that she cannot see. In Bangladesh, the face of tech-based violence is often not a single blow, but a gradual tightening of control.

Our laws, hospitals, and justice systems are built to recognise violence that leaves visible marks. But tech-based gender-based violence rarely leaves such marks. The UNFPA defines this violence as violence that is committed, facilitated, or amplified through digital technology and is directed on the basis of gender. This definition includes sextortion, image-based abuse, doxing, and cyberstalking because they are not separate events but rather intertwined processes.

UN Women research shows that a large proportion of women in different regions have experienced this violence at some point in their lives: more than half in Eastern Europe and Central Asia, about 28 percent in sub-Saharan Africa, and about 23 percent in eight countries in Europe and the United States.

The picture is no different in Bangladesh, although it is largely invisible. According to the 2024 National Violence Against Women Survey, about 8.3 percent of women reported experiencing technology-based violence. But this number is likely to be lower than reality because many behaviours that occur within the family or marital relationship are still not recognised as “violence”.

A real-life example of this invisibility is found in an incident that came to the national media this year. A female entrepreneur in Bagerhat was secretly videotaped and blackmailed by her neighbour. When she refused to respond to the demands, the distorted video was sent to her husband. The husband beat her and divorced her for a crime she did not commit. The violence that became visible here was false; the violence that actually happened, secret videotaping, blackmail, and loss of personal control, was not considered violence. This gap is the main problem.

Behind this gap is the psychological reality at work, especially when the surveillance comes from within an intimate relationship. A partner asks for location for safety, reads messages out of concern. This surveillance, presented in terms of care, gradually morphs into control, and often the victim herself does not recognise it as violence. Research has consistently shown that current or former partners are among the most common perpetrators of technology-enabled violence because they have easy access, and it often seems logical.

Technology is not neutral here; it gives violence new structures. A recent analysis by UN Women shows that new forms of violence, such as deepfakes, unauthorised image creation, and automated blackmail using artificial intelligence, are rapidly spreading. At the same time, apps have been found on various app stores that can distort people’s images to create sexualised content, even though these platforms’ own policies prohibit such apps. Despite the rules, weak enforcement has made these tools easily available. Weak privacy settings, easy location sharing, and inadequate monitoring have all made technology not just a means but an infrastructure for violence.

The institutional framework has also not kept pace with this reality. Victims have to go through multiple departments to file complaints; there is a lack of sensitivity in many cases, and the capacity to collect digital evidence is limited. Specialised help centres exist, but they are still limited in scope. Since digital forensics is not mandatory in courts, screenshots often become the main evidence, which can be easily distorted.

The legal framework also has similar limitations. Existing laws mainly deal with content-based crimes such as distributing pornography or online threats. But ongoing digital surveillance, password control, or control over personal information within a relationship, these are not yet clearly defined as crimes. The question remains: Can consent survive constant surveillance within a relationship?

The impact of this problem is even deeper in the social reality of Bangladesh. Here, where family status and social respect are important, the fear of a photo or message being leaked is often more terrifying than physical violence. Shame and social judgement are weapons in themselves, which the law has yet to properly identify.

The role of digital platforms is also important. Current reporting systems are designed for quick spam or fake accounts, but not for long-term relationship-based surveillance or blackmail. As a result, the burden of proof falls almost entirely on the victim in a system where collecting evidence is difficult.

The solution is not just to raise awareness. It requires legal recognition that consent in relationships cannot coexist with constant surveillance. It requires mandatory digital forensics standards, trained female officers, and accessible help centres. Technology companies must also ensure effective enforcement of their policies and make user safety part of the design.

The biggest danger is how normalised this violence has become. Sharing location for safety, knowing personal information out of love, these are no longer questioned. We have learned to recognise visible violence, but we have not yet learned to see invisible control as violence. The most profound violence today is that which leaves no trace; it simply takes away a person’s right to remain invisible.

Surja Mandal is an LL.B. student at the World University of Bangladesh.