The Front Page: How the Prime Minister’s Nephew Built Bangladesh’s Most Influential “Independent” Media Outlet — and Didn’t Tell Anyone

212,000 followers. UK government awards. Coca-Cola sponsorships. And the founder is Khaleda Zia’s nephew. But you’d never know that from reading The Front Page.

Let me tell you about the most interesting media outlet in Bangladesh right now.

It’s called The Front Page. It has 212,000 Instagram followers. It’s covered by The Prestige Magazine. Its founder won a Study UK Alumni Award from the British government. Its sponsors include Coca-Cola, Nestlé, Walton, and Mojo. Its coverage of the July 2024 uprising drew millions of views. It calls itself “Bangladesh’s first forum and citizen journalism platform.” And it has a secret that its 212,000 followers don’t know.

The founder’s name is Fasbeer Eskander. He is the son of Shamim Eskander. Shamim Eskander is Khaleda Zia’s brother. Which makes Fasbeer Eskander the nephew of the former Prime Minister — and the cousin of current Prime Minister Tarique Rahman.

The Front Page has never disclosed this. Not in any interview. Not in any profile. Not in any award citation. Not on their website. Not on their social media. Not once, not ever.

In a country where media independence is the difference between democracy and propaganda, that omission is not a footnote. It’s the whole story.

Meet Fasbeer Eskander

Let’s start with what we know.

Fasbeer Eskander — sometimes spelled Fasbir Iskander in family documents — is a UK-based Bangladeshi media entrepreneur. He studied at UCL and Royal Holloway, University of London. He holds a CompTIA Security+ certification in cybersecurity. He’s the co-founder and publisher of The Front Page, which he launched on November 20, 2020 with co-founder Shah Md. Akib Majumder, who serves as Chief Editor.

On paper, it’s a classic startup story: young Bangladeshi in London sees a gap in the market, builds a platform, attracts millions of readers, wins international recognition. It’s the kind of narrative that writes itself.

Except the narrative leaves out one critical detail: Fasbeer Eskander is a member of Bangladesh’s most powerful political family. His father, Shamim Eskander, is the man who — as we documented in Part 3 of this series — looted Biman Bangladesh Airlines for Tk 40 crore in commissions, faced 36 prosecution witnesses in an ACC case, walked free when the case was discharged in March 2025, and now sits in the VIP gallery at Parliament sessions. His aunt, Khaleda Zia, was Prime Minister of Bangladesh twice. His cousin, Tarique Rahman, is the current Prime Minister. His other cousin, Zaima Rahman, is being positioned as BNP’s next-generation leader.

This is not a minor family connection. This is Bangladesh’s first family. And the founder of one of its most influential digital media platforms is their nephew and cousin — a fact he has never publicly acknowledged.

The Origin Story That Doesn’t Add Up

In a November 2024 interview with The Prestige Magazine, Fasbeer told the story of why he started The Front Page. He was in America during the July 2024 uprising and Bangladesh’s internet blackout. He ran The Front Page’s coverage solo for two days, then assembled an international team of 20-30 volunteers from Canada, Australia, Japan, Romania, the US, UK, Germany, and Malaysia. He described it as “standing with the students” and “fighting from abroad.”

Co-founder Akib Majumder said they started The Front Page because of a “lack of freedom of speech for almost 17 years” — a direct reference to Awami League rule from 2009 to 2024. This is, word for word, BNP’s central political narrative. The 17 years of Awami League rule were indeed years of press suppression. The Digital Security Act was used to jail journalists. Media outlets were pressured into compliance. BNP leaders and supporters were arrested for social media posts.

All of this is true. But when the founder of a “citizen journalism platform” uses the exact same political framing as the ruling party — and happens to be that party’s leader’s nephew — the word “independent” starts to carry a lot of weight it can’t support.

Consider the timeline:

2020: The Front Page launches anonymously. Fasbeer later admits that even his family didn’t know he was behind it. The platform covers Bangladesh news from a UK base, building an audience during the pandemic and the final years of Awami League rule.

2021-2023: The platform grows. It covers anti-government content. It positions itself as a voice for free expression. It attracts brand sponsorships. Its Instagram following climbs past 100,000. Nobody knows who’s behind it.

July-August 2024: The uprising happens. The Front Page’s coverage goes viral. Fasbeer assembles his international team. The platform becomes one of the most visible Bangladeshi media outlets in the diaspora.

Post-August 2024: BNP rises to power. Fasbeer’s father Shamim Eskander’s ACC case is discharged in March 2025. Shamim appears in the Parliament VIP gallery. The Front Page continues to grow, winning international recognition.

December 2025: Fasbeer wins the Study UK Alumni Award for Business and Innovation. The award ceremony takes place at the Radisson Blu in Dhaka. In all the coverage, he’s described as a young media entrepreneur. No mention of his family.

Ask yourself: if a media platform founded by Sheikh Hasina’s nephew had grown to 212,000 followers during BNP’s years in opposition, and had never disclosed that connection, would BNP consider it “independent”? Would anyone?

The question answers itself.

What The Front Page Covers — and What It Doesn’t

I’m not going to pretend that The Front Page is pure propaganda. It’s not. It covers real news. It has genuine journalists. Its coverage of the July 2024 uprising was valuable. Its platform gives voice to stories that mainstream Bangladeshi media sometimes ignores. The student volunteers who joined Fasbeer’s international team during the blackout were real people doing real work.

But independence isn’t just about what you cover. It’s about what you don’t cover. And what The Front Page doesn’t cover is as revealing as what it does.

Let me walk you through some specifics.

The Shamim Eskander story. This series has documented how Shamim Eskander — Fasbeer’s father — looted Biman Bangladesh Airlines, how his ACC case with 36 witnesses was discharged, and how he now enjoys VIP status. The Front Page has not covered this story. Not once. Not a single article, not a single Instagram post, not a single mention. A major corruption story involving the Prime Minister’s uncle — and the platform founded by that same uncle’s son has nothing to say about it.

The Zaima Rahman story. Tarique Rahman’s daughter Zaima Rahman is being positioned as a BNP leader despite having no political experience. She’s 25 years old. She was born and raised in the UK. She has no track record in Bangladeshi politics. And she’s being fast-tracked into leadership positions within the party. The Front Page hasn’t covered this dynasty concern either. The platform that talks about “citizen journalism” and “fighting for democracy” is silent when the ruling party installs a 25-year-old with no qualifications into a leadership role — because that 25-year-old is the founder’s cousin.

The acquittal wave. Since BNP took power, every single conviction from the BNP-Jamaat era has been overturned. Every major corruption case. Every major criminal case. Tarique Rahman’s 84 cases — all acquitted. The August 21 grenade attack convictions — overturned. The Chittagong arms haul death sentences — overturned. Khaleda Zia’s corruption convictions — overturned. This is the single most significant judicial development in Bangladesh’s recent history. The Front Page has covered individual acquittals, but it has never connected the dots. It has never run a story asking whether the systematic overturning of every case against the ruling party’s members constitutes a problem for the rule of law. It has never, in short, applied the same scrutiny to BNP that it applied to Awami League.

The Al Jazeera coverage. The Front Page was, by its own description, “the first and only portal in Bangladesh” to cover Al Jazeera’s “All The Prime Minister’s Men” documentary — a deeply critical investigation into Sheikh Hasina’s government. This was important journalism. But the same platform has never applied equivalent investigative scrutiny to BNP’s government. When Al Jazeera or any other international outlet publishes something critical of the current government, The Front Page’s coverage is notably absent or muted.

Individually, each of these omissions could be explained. Editorial judgment is subjective. Not every outlet covers every story. But collectively, a pattern emerges: The Front Page covers Awami League’s corruption aggressively and BNP’s corruption not at all. And the reason for that pattern sits in the founder’s family tree.

The Anonymity Play

There’s a detail from Fasbeer’s own telling that deserves closer examination. He started The Front Page anonymously. Even his family didn’t know. The platform grew behind a veil of secrecy that was only lifted when it became strategically useful to do so.

In the context of 2020 Bangladesh — under Awami League rule, with the Digital Security Act actively criminalizing online speech — anonymity was a reasonable and even necessary choice. Many Bangladeshi journalists operated under pseudonyms or behind anonymous platforms. The risk of arrest was real. Fasbeer was right to protect himself.

But that protection cut both ways. Anonymity didn’t just shield Fasbeer from the Awami League government. It shielded his family connection from his audience. The 212,000 people who followed The Front Page during 2021, 2022, 2023 — they didn’t know they were reading content produced by a member of the Zia family. They thought they were reading independent citizen journalism. They were reading content produced by the Prime Minister’s nephew.

The timing of the reveal matters too. Fasbeer remained anonymous throughout the years when BNP was in opposition. The Front Page built its audience during the period when BNP was the underdog, fighting against Awami League’s authoritarianism. Its coverage aligned with BNP’s political interests, but its anonymity prevented anyone from connecting those interests to the family that would later take power.

Then, after the July 2024 uprising and BNP’s rise, Fasbeer revealed his identity. He gave interviews. He won awards. He became the public face of The Front Page. But he never revealed the family connection. The anonymity that once served as protection against the Awami League government now serves a different function: it protects The Front Page’s credibility.

Because once you know that the founder is the Prime Minister’s nephew, “independent citizen journalism” starts to sound like “family media operations.” And that’s a very different thing.

The Brand Partnership Problem

The Front Page’s commercial relationships add another layer to this story. The platform has sponsorship deals with major brands: Coca-Cola, Nestlé/MAGGI, Mojo, Walton, Beardo, and others. These are significant commercial partnerships that provide revenue and legitimacy.

Here’s the issue: these brands are sponsoring content produced by a member of the ruling family. They may not know that — because Fasbeer has never disclosed it — but they are effectively funding political communications infrastructure for the BNP’s first family. Every sponsored post, every branded content piece, every “independent” article that happens to align with BNP’s narrative is being subsidized, in part, by international brands that believe they’re supporting independent Bangladeshi journalism.

Coca-Cola probably doesn’t know that the founder of The Front Page is the Prime Minister’s nephew. Nestlé probably doesn’t know either. They signed sponsorship deals with a platform that presents itself as independent citizen journalism. If they knew the family connection, they would — or should — ask very different questions about editorial independence and conflicts of interest.

This isn’t just a transparency issue for The Front Page’s readers. It’s a transparency issue for every brand that does business with it. And it’s a particularly acute problem in Bangladesh, where the line between media and political messaging has always been thin, and where international brands have historically struggled to understand the local media landscape.

The UK Award: Legitimacy by Association

In December 2025, Fasbeer Eskander won the Study UK Alumni Award for Business and Innovation. The ceremony was held at the Radisson Blu in Dhaka. The award was presented by the British government, through the British Council, as part of a program that recognizes UK university alumni who have made significant contributions in their home countries.

On its face, this is a legitimate achievement. Fasbeer studied at UCL and Royal Holloway. He built a media platform with genuine reach. He mobilized an international team during a crisis. These are real accomplishments.

But the award also serves a purpose that goes beyond recognition. It confers legitimacy. When the British government gives you an award for “Business and Innovation,” it signals to the world that you are a credible media entrepreneur. It makes it harder for critics to question your independence. It provides a shield against the very scrutiny that this article is applying.

The British Council almost certainly didn’t know about Fasbeer’s family connection. Their selection process evaluates individual achievement, not family trees. But the effect of the award is the same regardless of intent: it legitimizes a media outlet founded by a member of the ruling family without disclosing that connection. It takes the question “is this independent?” off the table, because the British government has effectively answered it — without knowing the full picture.

This is how propaganda works in the 21st century. Not through state-run newspapers with obvious party logos. Not through ham-fisted government press releases. Through legitimate-seeming platforms with real audiences, real brand partnerships, and real international recognition — platforms that happen to be controlled by people whose interests are never disclosed.

The Dynasty’s Media Strategy

Zoom out for a moment and look at the Zia-Rahman family’s broader media footprint.

Shamim Eskander — Khaleda Zia’s brother — looted Biman Bangladesh Airlines and walked free from his ACC case. He now sits in the VIP gallery at Parliament. His criminal record has been erased by the same courts that his family’s government controls.

Zaima Rahman — Tarique Rahman’s 25-year-old daughter, born and raised in the UK — is being positioned as a BNP leader. She has no political experience. She has no track record of public service. She is being fast-tracked into party positions because she carries the family name. Her role in BNP’s future is being shaped not by democratic selection, but by dynastic succession.

And Fasbeer Eskander — Shamim’s son, Khaleda’s nephew, Tarique’s cousin — runs one of Bangladesh’s most influential digital media platforms. He has 212,000 followers. He has international brand partnerships. He has a British government award. And he has never told his audience who he is related to.

Three members of the same family. Three different spheres of influence. The father handles the patronage network — the old-school corruption that extracts money from state institutions. The cousin handles the political succession — the dynasty’s claim on future power. And the nephew handles the narrative — the media operation that shapes public perception and shields the family from scrutiny.

This is how modern political dynasties operate. They don’t need state television. They don’t need to ban opposition newspapers. They just need a media platform that the public believes is independent — and that happens to never cover stories that are inconvenient for the ruling family.

The Front Page doesn’t need to publish pro-BNP propaganda. It just needs to not publish anti-BNP stories. It doesn’t need to attack the opposition. It just needs to not investigate the ruling party. It doesn’t need to lie. It just needs to omit. And omission, when you have 212,000 followers and international brand partnerships, is indistinguishable from propaganda.

The Comparison That Matters

Let me make a comparison that will make BNP supporters uncomfortable, because it’s the one that matters most.

During Awami League’s 15-year rule, the party built an extensive media ecosystem. There were television channels that were openly aligned with the government. There were newspapers that received government advertising revenue in exchange for favorable coverage. There were online platforms that functioned as de facto Awami League mouthpieces. BNP correctly identified all of this as propaganda infrastructure and denounced it as evidence of authoritarian media capture.

They were right. Media capture through ownership, advertising revenue, and editorial pressure was a hallmark of Awami League’s authoritarianism. It was one of the things that made Bangladesh’s information environment so toxic during 2009-2024.

But BNP is now building the same infrastructure — and they’re doing it more effectively, because they’ve learned from Awami League’s mistakes. Awami League’s media operations were obvious. Everyone knew which channels were pro-government. Everyone knew which newspapers to trust and which to disregard. The propaganda was transparent, and transparent propaganda is easier to resist.

The Front Page is not obvious. It doesn’t look like a party mouthpiece. It doesn’t sound like one either. It covers real news. It has real journalists. It has a real audience. It has real brand partnerships and real international recognition. And its family connection to the ruling party is invisible to anyone who hasn’t gone looking for it.

This is what makes it more dangerous than Awami League’s crude media operations. Not because The Front Page publishes lies — it doesn’t, as far as I can tell. But because it has created a space where Awami League’s corruption is aggressively investigated and BNP’s corruption is invisible, and it has done so while claiming the mantle of independent journalism. The audience doesn’t know they’re reading content produced by the Prime Minister’s nephew. The brands don’t know they’re sponsoring political communications infrastructure. The British government doesn’t know it gave an award for independent media to a member of the ruling family.

That’s not just a conflict of interest. That’s a systemic information asymmetry that benefits one political party — the one that happens to be in power, and the one that happens to employ the founder’s family.

What Fasbeer Should Do

I want to be clear about something. Fasbeer Eskander has built something genuinely impressive. The Front Page has a real audience. It covers real stories. Its July 2024 coverage was valuable. Its student volunteer network was a genuine civic contribution. None of that is in dispute.

But the family connection is not a minor detail. It’s the defining context that transforms The Front Page from an independent media success story into a question about media capture in Bangladesh. And Fasbeer’s failure to disclose it — not after BNP took power, not after his father’s case was discharged, not after his cousin became Prime Minister, not during his award acceptance speech, not ever — is a choice that his audience deserves to know about.

Here’s what an actually independent media founder would do:

Disclose the family connection. Put it on the About page. Mention it in interviews. Let the audience decide whether they trust a platform founded by the Prime Minister’s nephew. If the journalism is truly independent, the disclosure won’t hurt — it’ll enhance credibility by demonstrating transparency.

Appoint an independent editorial board. If The Front Page wants to be taken seriously as an independent outlet, it needs structural safeguards — an editorial board with no family ties to any political party, a public editorial policy that commits to equal scrutiny of all parties, and a transparent process for handling stories that involve the founder’s family.

Cover BNP’s corruption with the same vigor as Awami League’s. This is the simplest test. If The Front Page runs investigative pieces on Shamim Eskander’s Biman Airlines looting, on the Zaima Rahman dynasty question, on the systematic acquittal of all BNP-era convictions, and on the institutional capture documented throughout this series — then it’s independent. If it doesn’t, it’s not. The test isn’t complicated.

None of these steps would destroy The Front Page. They would strengthen it. An independent media outlet with 212,000 followers, international brand partnerships, and a British government award that also discloses its founder’s family connection and subjects itself to equal scrutiny of all parties would be a genuinely valuable addition to Bangladesh’s media landscape.

But Fasbeer hasn’t taken any of these steps. And the reason is obvious: disclosure would change how people read The Front Page’s coverage. It would change how brands evaluate their sponsorships. It would change how the British Council evaluates its award recipients. It would change everything — which is exactly why it matters.

The Bigger Picture: Dynasty Media in Bangladesh

The Front Page is not an isolated case. It’s part of a broader pattern in Bangladeshi politics where family networks extend their influence beyond traditional political structures into media, business, and civil society.

The Awami League had its media ecosystem — the channels, the newspapers, the online platforms that functioned as government amplifiers. BNP is building one too, but it’s learning from Awami League’s mistakes. Instead of controlling media through advertising pressure and legal intimidation — tactics that are visible and generate backlash — BNP’s media ecosystem operates through ownership and family connections that are invisible to the public.

The result is a media landscape where the public can’t easily determine who’s funding what, who’s related to whom, and whose interests are being served by the content they consume. In a country with limited media literacy and a history of political manipulation, this opacity is dangerous.

Bangladesh’s media has always been politicized. Every major newspaper has a party affiliation. Every major television channel has an ownership structure tied to a political family. This is not new. What’s new is the sophistication. The Front Page represents a new model: independent in appearance, connected in reality, credible through international recognition, and opaque in its most important relationship — the one between its founder and the government his family runs.

If Bangladesh is going to have a genuinely free press, it needs more than laws that protect journalists from arrest. It needs transparency about who owns and controls media outlets. It needs disclosure requirements that prevent political families from operating media platforms behind a veil of anonymity. It needs an audience that knows who’s producing the content they consume and can evaluate that content accordingly.

The Front Page has none of this. And until it does, its claims of independence ring hollow.

The Question That Remains

I keep coming back to the same question, because it’s the one that matters most: if Fasbeer Eskander had disclosed his family connection from the start, would The Front Page have 212,000 followers today?

Maybe. Maybe the content is good enough that the audience would have grown anyway. Maybe the July 2024 coverage was valuable enough that people would have followed regardless. Maybe the brand partnerships would have survived the disclosure. Maybe the British government would have given the same award.

But we don’t know, because the disclosure never happened. And that’s the problem. Not that The Front Page exists. Not that it’s successful. Not that it covers news. The problem is that it built its audience, its credibility, and its international recognition while hiding the one piece of information that would have allowed that audience to make an informed judgment about its editorial independence.

The Front Page calls itself “Your Daily Informant.” But the informant hasn’t informed you about the most relevant fact about itself. The platform that promises to tell you what’s really happening in Bangladesh hasn’t told you who’s behind it. The outlet that positions itself as a voice for transparency operates without the most basic transparency — disclosing who owns it.

In a democracy, media ownership is public information. In Bangladesh, where media capture has been a tool of every ruling party since independence, that transparency is not optional. It’s the minimum standard for credibility.

Fasbeer Eskander can keep running The Front Page. He can keep winning awards. He can keep signing brand partnerships. He can keep building his audience. But he can’t call it independent — not while hiding the fact that he’s the Prime Minister’s nephew. Not while his platform scrutinizes one party and gives the other a pass. Not while his father walks free from a corruption case that his family’s government arranged.

The Front Page has a choice. It can be the independent media outlet it claims to be — by disclosing the family connection, appointing an independent editorial board, and applying equal scrutiny to all parties. Or it can continue as it is — a platform with a massive audience, international legitimacy, and an undisclosed relationship with the ruling family that makes “independent” the one word it can’t honestly use.

Bangladesh’s audience deserves to make that choice with full information. Right now, they can’t. And that’s the story The Front Page will never tell you.

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Sources:

• The Prestige Magazine (November 19, 2024): Interview with Fasbeer Eskander and Akib Majumder — “Next Generation Media”
• Study UK Alumni Awards 2026: Business & Innovation category — Fasbeer Eskander
• The Front Page (@thefrontpagebd): Instagram — 212K followers, 14K posts, brand partnerships
• LinkedIn: Fasbeer Eskander — Head of Operations, Footsteps Bangladesh; Co-founder, The Front Page
• The Daily Star (March 25, 2025): Shamim Eskander case discharged by Dhaka court
• Dhaka Tribune (March 2026): Shamim Eskander in Parliament VIP gallery
• ACC Charge Sheet (2008): 36 prosecution witnesses, Tk 1.33 crore illegal acquisition
• Bangladesh Untold Series 8, Part 1: “Looting Biman Airlines — Tk 40 Crore in Commissions”
• Bangladesh Untold Series 8, Part 2: “17 Years, No Job, Luxury Life — Houses in Australia & Canada”
• Bangladesh Untold Series 8, Part 3: “36 Witnesses, Case Discharged, VIP in Parliament”
• Al Jazeera: “All The Prime Minister’s Men” — documentary on Sheikh Hasina’s government
• Digital Security Act 2018 / Cyber Security Act 2023: Press freedom restrictions under Awami League

Series 8 — The Shamim Iskander Exposé | Part 4: The Front Page

Article #75 | Bangladesh Untold documents what happened. What you do with that information is up to you.