
'Election in Bangladesh: Democracy or ‘Distance from the People
Mir Abdul Alim
Bangladesh now stands on the brink of yet another uncertain election. The nation’s politics feels like a rudderless boat—there’s the ocean, the waves, and the open sky—but no compass. The waves in question are called “elections.” But whose election is it? In whose interest? And within what framework? These are no longer mere political debates—they are profound signals of our national existential crisis.
Those demanding an election in the name of democracy argue, “The right to vote is the lifeblood of democracy; to deny it is to deny the people.” But a rising political voice retorts, “Under the current state structure, elections merely reproduce the old faces, the old theatrics, and the old betrayals.” This tension is not merely about choosing a path—it’s a call to change the system. And in that call, a new model of representation is gaining momentum: Proportional Representation (PR). Whether through a national consensus government or PR voting, all such options are meaningful only if rooted in the people’s will and supported by collective political consent. Otherwise, they become mere slogans and political gimmickry. Voting is not just an event—it charts the nation’s future course. Hence, preserving the integrity of democracy requires restraint, dialogue, and, above all, accountability to the people. Otherwise, the darkness ahead will not just engulf politics—it will endanger the entire nation.
Under the current system, where a party can win 70–80% of parliamentary seats with only 30–35% of the vote, opposition votes are effectively wasted. This renders the government unrepresentative. Hence, the demand for PR is gaining strength—because it allocates seats in proportion to votes received. This means broader participation and dismantling one-party dominance through coalition governance. In such a setup, decision-making becomes a process of continuous consultation, fostering a culture of accountability. A coalition government doesn’t imply weakness—it means a balanced coexistence of diverse views. That is the hallmark of a mature democracy.
So, the central question is no longer just “When will the election happen?” Rather, it’s: “What kind of election, under what system, and based on what model of representation?” An election is not the destination of a state—it is the signpost along the way. If that path is flawed or mapped unilaterally, then regardless of where it leads, it results in political suffocation and another phase of deadlock. Therefore, what we need today is not just an election date—we need a credible structure, an inclusive system, and universal participation. Otherwise, democracy will once again be sculpted into a palace of one party’s making, while the people stand outside the gates—watching, but with no place inside.
Political parties loudly proclaim: “Elections are the only way forward.” Their argument is that democratic wheels can only turn through the people’s voting rights. Meanwhile, another powerful voice—led by the “Indefinite Caretaker Government” of Dr. Yunus—contends that “elections under the existing state framework will only repeat past failures.” They demand structural reform first—only then can a meaningful election occur. The air is thick with questions, anxieties, and shadows of doubt. Whatever path the country takes, if it lacks public trust, justice, and accountability, it will be yet another pause in the nation’s political journey—not a solution.
The waves of time are growing louder. From all sides come sounds of conflict, demands, and opposing visions. Traditional political forces insist, “Only through elections will the people deliver their verdict, the country find leadership, and the state move forward.” For them, democracy equals voting, and voting equals elections. On the other hand, a newer school of thought is gaining traction. Dr. Yunus and others argue, “If the state is broken, weakened, and paralyzed, then no genuine election is possible. First, we need structural reform: revamping the administrative apparatus, ensuring judicial independence, restoring accountability, and freeing the press. Only then can we hold a credible election.”
Caught between these two currents, the state drifts aimlessly. It feels like a weary nation hurtling toward an undefined future. Tensions between the ruling and opposition camps, administrative ambiguities, a questionable judiciary, and growing public disillusionment—all have created a volatile atmosphere. No one knows when—or if—this unrest will end. The people are asking: where is this country headed? There may be an electoral path ahead, but beside it lies the deep chasm of reform. Some want a quick vote; others seek foundational purification. But in between, the people’s hope is vanishing—evaporating drop by drop. The nation sways in a blurry rhythm—sometimes turbulent, sometimes still, sometimes agitated. And the central question remains: if this oscillation continues, where will it finally take us? Is there a solution—or just an endless cycle of uncertainty?
Even the term “Indefinite Caretaker” seems a signal. The very nature of the current government suggests not stability, but an undefined haze. The word “caretaker” traditionally refers to a transitional government with a specific mandate: to organize fair elections. But the ambiguous identity of Dr. Yunus’s "indefinite" administration suggests limitless rule. This government offers no clarity on its own tenure—justifies its extension under various pretexts: “stability,” “reforms,” or “opposition’s unpreparedness.
There is still no clear election roadmap. Although the government insists elections will occur by 2026, no firm timeline or structure has been announced. The Election Commission remains inactive and incomplete, and even its composition is under scrutiny. The opposition asks: if the government is sincere about holding elections, why not announce a fixed date? This uncertainty is eroding public trust and prolonging political tension.
The government has set up a "State Reform Commission" aimed at restructuring political and administrative institutions. But even after significant time, it has failed to produce concrete recommendations. Its vague statements like “we aim to build a future-ready state” raise serious questions. Is the future being used as an excuse to deprive the present of democracy? The opposition views this as a calculated delay.
All sides must ensure that political dialogue does not suffer a premature death. Dialogue is crucial for resolving a nation’s crises. Democracy’s foundation lies in inclusive and credible elections—which require mutual trust and understanding among political parties. Continuous dialogue with conditions of tolerance must be pursued to overcome divisions and reach a solution. Given today’s political tension, structured discussions around the idea of a transitional government are both relevant and necessary. Only such negotiations can reduce polarization and forge a united path in the national interest. One-sided decisions or confrontation won’t work. A free, fair, and impartial election is the only route to political stability and democratic progress.
The role of the Election Commission (EC) is critical in any democracy. As a constitutional body, it must symbolize neutrality, transparency, and accountability. Unfortunately, recent actions by the EC reflect ambiguity and indecision. Instead of building public confidence, its behavior has deepened skepticism about the entire electoral system. The EC keeps saying, “we are preparing”—but offers no clear deadline or robust roadmap. As a result, people are questioning: for whom and under whose direction is the commission working? If political bias or allegiance taints the EC’s decisions, the democratic structure itself becomes threatened. If the EC becomes an instrument of the government—active or inactive at its bidding—then elections lose their legitimacy.
Without pre-election reforms, a credible and inclusive election is impossible. This is now widely accepted. But the key questions remain: what reforms, by whom, how far-reaching, and how soon? The government claims to be building a modern, development-oriented democracy. If that is truly the goal, then structural reforms before the election are not a luxury—they are essential for democracy’s survival.
However, the government has offered no clear roadmap. Cosmetic changes or delays in the name of reform will be nothing short of deception. Token reforms or paper promises will only further weaken the election system. Reforms must be effective, realistic, and inclusive—so that all political forces can recognize themselves as stakeholders. Some urgent reforms needed for a credible election include:
An independent and courageous Election Commission
Ending political interference in administration
Deployment of military or independent law enforcement during polls.
Nonpartisan monitoring and oversight
Strict measures against electoral violence
Without these, public trust will not return. Political conflict will deepen. The very foundation of democracy will erode. Therefore, pre-election reform is not a luxury—it is an urgent necessity for the nation’s peaceful future. Bold and far-reaching decisions must be made now. History will not forgive delay.
Bangladesh now stands at a fragile crossroads. An election looms—but the deeper question is: what future will it bring? Political parties must stop obsessing over power and instead act responsibly in the interest of the country and its people. Without a time-bound, credible, and inclusive election framework, the chaos and despair ahead may not just destroy democracy—it may dismantle the entire state machinery. Let “Indefinite Caretaker” not become a symbol of endless ambiguity, but rather, a beginning of meaningful consensus. If the government remains indifferent and the opposition directionless, the country risks not only political paralysis but also civil unrest, economic collapse, and international isolation.
Now is the time for self-reflection, for returning to the table of dialogue, and for regaining the people’s trust. The burden of rescuing the nation falls on political leadership. If they fail, future generations will never forgive them.
Yes, an election will happen—but the questions remain: for whom? Who will be allowed to participate, and how much deception will lurk behind it? Bangladesh’s politics seems locked in a bizarre stasis. Political parties are abuzz, yet public skepticism persists. There will be voting, but will it be the same old story? Will the outcome be another one-sided affair? Or will this be the moment we change the system and its structure?
One side says, “The vote will liberate us.” The other replies, “In this setup, the vote is just a replay of the same drama.” The call for proportional representation is growing stronger. Let parties win seats in proportion to their votes—then no vote is wasted, and the people’s will is accurately reflected. Coalition governments would follow—not power monopolies. Politics would then become a space for dialogue, not dominance. That may finally be the path toward genuine democracy.
Yes, elections may be held—with fanfare, with foreign observers, even with fresh faces. But the real question is not about the event of voting—it’s about what changes afterward. A long line at the polling booth doesn’t guarantee democracy. Stuffed ballot boxes don’t ensure public confidence. If the method is flawed and the structure biased, elections merely become a ceremony of cosmetic change—not transformation. What we need today is a political blueprint where votes aren’t just counted—they count. A system where not a single party, but a consensus government builds an egalitarian state. Only then can we say: this election is not about dates—it is about our destiny.
The writer is a journalist, Social Researcher, Secretary-General, Columnist Forum of Bangladesh.
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