In nearly a year and a half since 36 July of last year, the interim government has failed to bring the Awami League to the realisation that during the preceding 15 years it had turned the country into a hellish empire of terror through murder, enforced disappearances, land grabbing, extortion, politicisation of all constitutional institutions, judicial and extrajudicial killings, and by rendering the opposition almost nonexistent. Owing to the inherent weaknesses of the interim government, no one—from the top to the grassroots leadership of the Awami League—has accepted responsibility for the killings carried out on Sheikh Hasina’s instructions to suppress the historic July–August uprising, let alone apologised to the nation. Instead, they have been given the opportunity to speak out defiantly against the martyrs of July–August. 

From its inception, the Awami League has been an opportunistic political party, one that has always demonstrated its skill at fishing in troubled waters. Even while chanting the mantra of democracy, it repeatedly held so-called elections term after term, threatening opposition candidates, ensuring the absence of voters at polling centers, or seizing polling stations to declare itself victorious—thereby establishing authoritarian rule in the country. There was nothing surprising about this; it is the Awami League’s time-honored character.

Would it be an exaggeration to say that some unseen manipulation was at play in the fall and flight of Sheikh Hasina on August 5 last year, and in allowing a large number of Awami League’s top leaders, ministers, members of parliament, and other key actors to escape? The interim government has never spoken about this. 

Perhaps it thought that since the danger had passed, there was no point in probing the matter further. That the danger has not passed is evident from the attempt to assassinate Sharif Osman Hadi, spokesperson of the Inqilab Mancha and a likely independent candidate from the Dhaka-8 constituency, who was shot at point-blank range with the intent to kill, the bullet aimed at his head. The bullet did not miss its mark; according to surgeons, it pierced his skull and exited through the opposite side. Hadi is now hovering between life and death. The question is: was Hadi the only target, or are there others on the assassins’ list?

The very day after the Election Commission announced the date of the national parliamentary election, the attempt to kill a promising young politician in broad daylight in the capital—one who had been vocal against injustice and irregularities—clearly demonstrates how badly the law-and-order situation in the country has deteriorated. Alongside the law enforcement agencies, members of the army are deployed in the field in support. Yet there has been no overall improvement in the situation. 

One major reason may be that the morale of the police has yet to recover following the public backlash triggered by incidents during the July uprising, when—on orders of the former government—police opened fire on students and citizens, burned the bodies of those killed, threw half-dead youths from vehicles onto the streets, and secretly buried numerous bodies as unclaimed instead of identifying them and handing them over to families. As a result, some police officers were killed, police stations were set on fire, and fleeing police personnel were assaulted, all of which have left the force demoralized. There is little reason to expect their morale to recover anytime soon. The vast majority of police personnel prior to August 2024 were appointed on political considerations. No matter how solemnly they swear to protect the Constitution and serve the people, they had—and still have—their own political views. It would be unrealistic to expect a sudden transformation of their mindset by the wave of a magic wand. They are merely performing their duties with wavering resolve. Over the past 16 months, the interim government has failed to reorganize the law enforcement agencies and has not even been able to recruit new manpower. This failure is now beginning to exact a heavy price, perhaps starting with Sharif Osman Hadi.

The second reason is the fierce competition among every small and large political and religious party, in the absence of the Awami League, to seize and retain the taste of power that has suddenly become attainable. Parties whose leaders once could not even dream of more than glancing at the roads around the National Parliament building while passing by—or at best, securing a pass through someone connected to Parliament to sit in the visitors’ gallery and observe a session—have now begun clamoring about an “upper house” and “PR, PR.” Hopes of parliamentary representation have started to blaze within them. These hopes were cast in their direction by the “National Consensus Commission.” 

In the name of realising the spirit of the July uprising and the sacrifices of the martyrs, the National Consensus Commission held discussions with 33 parties on 166 issues over 72 days and reached consensus on 64 issues, based on which the “July Charter 2025” was announced. From February 2025 to October 2025, the entire process took nearly nine months. If, overcoming all obstacles, the national parliamentary election and a referendum on the July Charter are held on February 12 as scheduled, the party securing a majority of seats in Parliament will indeed be able to form a government promptly. However, unless something akin to Sheikh Mujib’s maneuver—transforming the parliamentary system into a one-party presidential system in just 13 minutes—occurs, it may take several more months for the proposals of the July Charter to be incorporated into the Constitution.

When the caretaker government system was in place, national parliamentary elections were held within 90 days, and power was handed over to the elected government within one to two weeks. In Bangladesh and other Third World countries that have experienced rule under military governments, such regimes often prolonged their stay in power on various pretexts, seeking to buy time, form their own parties, and ensure those parties’ victory in elections. In contrast, the purpose of an interim government is to hold elections as quickly as possible and then step aside. However, seeing the slow pace of election preparations under the interim government led by Chief Adviser Dr. Muhammad Yunus, people began to question whether this government would readily relinquish power. 

This question would have placed the government in an even more precarious position had BNP Acting Chairman Tarique Rahman not met Dr. Muhammad Yunus in London in mid-June and changed the earlier decision of holding elections in June 2026 to February 2026. With the election schedule now announced in line with the Chief Adviser’s revised decision, earlier fears that the interim government might prolong its tenure by delaying elections have subsided. Yet, the turn events are taking following the attempt on Sharif Osman Hadi’s life makes it appear that this is, in effect, part of a conspiracy to derail the elections altogether.

At a time when a political menace like the Awami League should have been brought to justice under criminal law for its mountain of crimes, compelled to kneel and be taught the lessons of democratic and tolerant political practice, and educated about the disastrous consequences of personal authoritarianism, the BNP instead adopted a conciliatory and lenient attitude toward it. That leniency was seized upon by the opportunistic and intrigue-hardened Awami League as encouragement. At present, the two major forces in the political arena are the BNP and Jamaat-e-Islami. While the BNP has past experience in running the government, Jamaat does not. Yet for more than a decade and a half, the BNP has effectively been leaderless. Despite being a major party, and despite the fact that under Sheikh Hasina’s misrule the BNP Chairperson Begum Khaleda Zia and leaders and activists at all levels of the party were severely persecuted, they failed to build any effective movement against Hasina’s government. The party was run in a largely intangible manner. 

Jamaat’s situation was the opposite. Even after the execution of Jamaat-e-Islami’s top leaders by special courts established by the ousted fascist Sheikh Hasina, the party did not lose morale. Through sacrifice, it has instead gained sympathy from ordinary citizens, students, professionals, and many Muslim countries, strengthening itself both domestically and internationally. However, it is unlikely to secure the majority needed to form a government in Parliament. It is a proven truth that discipline and organization alone do not automatically translate into overwhelming public support or a path to power. In rural Bangladesh, many voters switch allegiance for a cup of tea or a cigarette—what might happen if cash notes are slipped into their hands?

In the absence of the Awami League, the BNP is virtually lying in wait to assume power. To that end, it has, for the first time, begun speaking about Jamaat-e-Islami—its former political ally and principal coalition partner—in a tone and language previously used only by the Awami League and its allies against Jamaat.

As election day draws nearer, the BNP’s rhetoric against Jamaat will grow louder. Opportunistic elements of the Awami League, lurking in the shadows or blending into crowds, will exploit the tensions between the two parties. They will not miss any opportunity to take full advantage of the ongoing political instability and the steadily deteriorating law-and-order situation. Above them all looms, as a blessing, the presence of former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina—now a convicted fugitive residing safely under Delhi’s protection.

Author: US-based senior journalist