The revolution in Bangladesh was entirely led by students.

Over the weekend, The Hill published an article that incorrectly characterized Bangladesh Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s August 5 resignation as a “quiet military coup behind a civilian facade.” In reality, the protests leading to the fall of Sheikh Hasina’s 15-year-old regime were led entirely by students and ultimately gained the support of millions of citizens — as detailed in global and local media, including the Financial Times, BBC, Al Jazeera, and CNN.

On August 5, Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina resigned after army chief General Waker-Uz-Zaman informed her that his forces could no longer protect her as hundreds of thousands of protesters marched on her home. In the preceding weeks, the prime minister had relied heavily on her army chief, who is in fact a distant relative. General Waker-Uz-Zaman is married to the daughter of the previous army chief and a cousin of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman—the founding prime minister of Bangladesh, the father of the nation, and Sheikh Hasina’s father. The prime minister was perhaps too confident in General Waker-Uz-Zaman’s loyalty, relying on that relationship, as well as her generous generosity over the years. The general faithfully implemented the “shoot on sight” order during an extended curfew in July, but he could not cope with the growing public mood. By August, even army officers were ignoring orders and standing down. There is no evidence that the military chose this outcome, but it is clear that it could no longer contain the will of the people.

To understand this result, one must understand the events that led to it. The civil unrest that began in June was largely peaceful, sparked by student protests against a quota system that reserved 30 percent of government jobs for descendants of freedom fighters from the 1971 Bangladeshi war of independence. Protesters argued that the quota system favored members of the Awami League, a political party founded by Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s father.

At a press conference on July 14, the prime minister declared, “If the grandchildren of freedom fighters are not getting jobs, should the grandchildren of Razakars (a derogatory term for traitors who supported the Pakistani army in the 1971 war) be given jobs?” That night, student protests broke out in response, chanting, “We demanded our rights, but we were made Razakars.” The Awami League sent in its student wing to control the growing number of protesters, leaving hundreds of unarmed students injured and at least half a dozen killed on July 16. On July 18, police and the student league were deployed, and more violence erupted, leading to at least 29 more deaths. That evening, all internet services were suddenly suspended in the country, completely cutting it off from the world and ultimately causing the longest internet blackout in history since Egypt in 2011. The protests continued, as did the violence. At least 100 unarmed civilians were killed. Student leaders issued a nine-point demand for accountability for violence against their brethren, including an apology for their deaths. The army was sent to enforce a curfew with orders to “shoot on sight” until July 19 evening.

On July 21, the Court of Appeal revised its previous ruling on the quota system, reducing the quota from 30% to 7%, but student demands evolved after more senseless killings. After a 48-hour lull, protests continued, and the official death toll—likely an underestimate of the true toll—rose to 201. Still, the internet blackout choked the economy, estimated to have lost at least $10 billion to the economy, about 2 percentage points of GDP growth. On July 24, broadband internet was restored, albeit with restrictions on social media and 4G.

At the same time, Amnesty International condemned the thousands of arrests and detentions of student leaders, protesters and opposition leaders. The police detective unit (DB) took the coordinators of the quota reform movement from the hospital under the pretext of security. On 28 July, while in custody, six of the coordinators announced in a video recording that they were withdrawing all of their demands. (The wider student community rejected the declaration, assuming it was recorded under duress.) Later, after their release on 1 August, the six student leaders announced that their statement was “not voluntary”.

Meanwhile, students have called for a day of mourning, turning their Facebook profiles red to honor those who died in the protests – including teachers, journalists, students and even dozens of children, according to UNICEF.

On August 3, the students announced that their nine-point demand was no longer valid and replaced it with a single demand: the resignation of Sheikh Hasina and the formation of a “national government” led by someone “acceptable to all.” The prime minister offered to talk to the students, but they refused.

The protests across the country grew louder by the day as more and more civilians joined the movement, discouraged by the violence against peaceful protesters. One of them said, “I was sure of one thing, if we didn’t come out and protest, the next child that got shot in the chest would be mine.”

By August 4, protests and clashes had killed at least 90 unarmed protesters, and the internet was once again suspended. Students announced their plan to march from across the country to Dhaka the next day to force the current government to resign. By the afternoon of August 5, the army chief had convinced Sheikh Hasina that her only option was to resign and flee to India, and announced the formation of a new government. In the days to come, the military and police—many of whom had blood on their hands and feared repercussions—were absent from the streets, inspiring students and other vigilantes to step in and manage traffic and protect communities from looters.

The story reads like a screenplay, and the vision and courage of the students are simply extraordinary. Sheikh Hasina – the longest-serving female head of state in history – is now widely perceived as an autocrat. This is for a variety of reasons, not least her actions during the protests and the recent confirmation and disclosure of details of hundreds of arbitrary detentions and enforced disappearances.

Bangladesh is the world’s eighth-largest country and one of the world’s largest democracies. Although the world is far from “The Hill,” Bangladesh is a key U.S. trading partner and strategic ally in Asia. We must understand the country’s complex history to support its still fragile transitional government. Disinformation and conspiracy theories remain a serious threat. Nobel Peace Prize laureate Mohammad Yunus refused to accept a student request to lead a transitional government and be a puppet of the military. He deserves our support, partnership, and respect as he leads Bangladesh to rebuild a wounded society.