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Bangladesh’s Islamist Opposition Moves from the Margins to the Centre
  • Shafiqur Rahman
    Shafiqur Rahman
Bangladesh’s new political order is already beginning to show its real face. The formal architecture is democratic: elections, Parliament, opposition, budgets, university polls and public statements about reform. Underneath, however, the country is witnessing the consolidation of Jamaat-e-Islami as a national power, the increasingly violent competition between Jamaat and the ruling Bangladesh Nationalist Party, and the gradual rehabilitation of an organisation whose history remains inseparable from the 1971 genocide. The clashes are no longer isolated incidents. They are the local expression of a national struggle for territory, institutions, money and political dominance.

On June 29, eight people were injured when BNP and Jamaat activists, together with members of Jamaat’s student organisation Islami Chhatra Shibir, clashed in Gaibandha. Less than three weeks earlier, the two groups had fought over control of a commercial area in the same district. On June 2, BNP worker Rana Mia was stabbed to death, allegedly by the son of a Jamaat leader in Mymensingh. In May, the two parties fought over the leasing of temporary cattle markets in Netrokona. The subjects may appear trivial: a paan market, a cattle market, a university appointment, control of a college campus. They are not. In Bangladesh, as elsewhere in South Asia, political power is rarely exercised only in Parliament. It is exercised through control of campuses, transport unions, markets, municipal contracts, local businesses and street organisations. The right to collect money, allocate leases, influence appointments and intimidate rivals is the foundation upon which national political machines are built. This is why clashes between Chhatra Dal, the BNP student wing, and Islami Chhatra Shibir have multiplied across universities and colleges. At the Dhaka University of Engineering and Technology, at least twenty people were injured during fighting over the appointment of a vice-chancellor. At Ishwardi Government College, cocktail bombs were used in a confrontation over campus dominance. In Chittagong, another clash left at least twenty people injured. In Satkania, the house of a Chhatra Dal district leader was reportedly attacked in an incident led by a local Jamaat chief.

The Human Rights Support Society recorded fifty-eight incidents of political violence in June alone, with nine people killed and 346 injured. Eight clashes between BNP and Jamaat caused two deaths and thirty-six injuries. This is not merely a deteriorating law-and-order situation. It is the redistribution of political power after the collapse of the Awami League order. The BNP won the February 2026 elections by an overwhelming margin, securing 209 seats on its own. But Jamaat emerged as the main opposition with sixty-eight seats, while its broader alliance won seventy-seven. More significant than the total was the geography of the victories. Twenty-six Jamaat seats came from areas previously considered strongholds of the BNP or the Awami League.

Jamaat has therefore ceased to be a marginal ideological party surviving on a narrow religious constituency. It has become a competitive national force capable of entering established political territories, displacing older networks and presenting itself as the principal alternative to the BNP.

Its leaders understand the opportunity perfectly. Jamaat Chief Shafiqur Rahman has accepted the election result while simultaneously questioning its legitimacy. In June, he alleged widespread irregularities and declared that Jamaat had accepted defeat only to prevent civil war. The language was carefully chosen. It allowed the party to present itself as disciplined and responsible while retaining the threat of mobilisation. The message was unmistakable: Jamaat had the strength to create disorder but had chosen restraint. This combination of institutional participation and implied coercive power has always been central to Islamist political strategy. Jamaat contests elections, drafts budgets and speaks the language of accountability. Its cadres, meanwhile, build influence in streets, campuses, professional bodies and religious networks.

The party’s greatest success has come among young people.

Islami Chhatra Shibir-backed alliances swept the major university elections of 2025. At Dhaka University, they won twenty-three of twenty-eight seats. At Jahangirnagar University, they secured twenty of twenty-five. At Chittagong University, they won twenty-four of twenty-six posts. At Rajshahi University, they took twenty of twenty-three central positions. These results should alarm anyone who still imagines Jamaat as an ageing organisation trapped in the politics of 1971. The party has rebuilt itself through the universities, precisely where the next generation of Bangladesh’s political, bureaucratic and professional class is being formed. Jamaat is now expanding its youth organisation to create a bridge between Islami Chhatra Shibir and the parent party. The objective is not difficult to understand. Student activism produces disciplined cadres, but university life eventually ends. A stronger youth structure allows Jamaat to retain activists, place them in social and professional networks, and transform campus victories into long-term political power.

The process is already extending into finance and economic policy. In June, Jamaat presented what it called a “shadow budget”, an unprecedented move in Bangladesh. The document was designed to portray the BNP government as corrupt, patronage-driven and financially incompetent, while presenting Jamaat as the party of good governance, equity and reform. This was more than a policy exercise. It was an attempt to normalise Jamaat as a government-in-waiting. The party has also intervened aggressively in the controversy surrounding Islami Bank Bangladesh Limited. Jamaat criticised the appointment of a new chairman and accused the government of interfering in the banking sector. Its leaders presented themselves as defenders of institutional independence. The historical irony is considerable. Islami Bank has long been associated with Jamaat networks. One of its founding vice-chairmen was Mir Quasem Ali, a senior Jamaat figure, former president of Islami Chhatra Shibir and an Al-Badr commander convicted for crimes committed during the Liberation War. Jamaat is not simply returning to politics. It is attempting to recover influence over the financial and social infrastructure that once sustained its power. The most disturbing element of this resurgence, however, is the revision of history. In May, the Appellate Division of the Supreme Court expressed regret over its earlier judgment upholding the conviction and death sentence of Jamaat leader ATM Azharul Islam for crimes against humanity committed in 1971. The Court stated that the earlier ruling had failed to give sufficient consideration to evidentiary deficiencies and the broader context of the allegations. A court has every duty to examine evidence, correct miscarriages of justice and guarantee fair trials, even in cases involving the most serious crimes. But in the present political climate, the decision carries consequences far beyond the fate of one man. It forms part of a broader process through which Jamaat’s role in 1971 is being detached from the party’s contemporary identity. For years, the Awami League treated accountability for the Liberation War as non-negotiable. Fifty Jamaat leaders were indicted before the International Crimes Tribunal. Senior figures including Abdul Quader Mollah, Matiur Rahman Nizami and Ali Ahsan Mujaheed were executed. Ghulam Azam and Delawar Hossain Sayedee died in prison after receiving lengthy sentences. The Awami League politicised the tribunals, used historical memory as an instrument of legitimacy and often treated criticism as treason. None of that changes the historical record. Jamaat opposed Bangladesh’s independence and some of its leaders were associated with forces accused and convicted of mass murder, torture and collaboration with the Pakistani Army. Bangladesh now risks replacing one political abuse of history with another.

Under the Awami League, 1971 was monopolised by the ruling party. Under the new order, it may be diluted, judicially revised and gradually removed as an obstacle to Jamaat’s legitimacy.

The BNP faces a strategic dilemma. It requires stability and institutional control, but it is confronting an opposition that has stronger ideological discipline, deeper campus organisation and a clear long-term project. At the local level, the competition is already violent because both parties seek control of the same resources and networks.

Jamaat, meanwhile, can afford to be patient. It does not need to defeat the BNP immediately. It needs to consolidate its position, recruit young supporters, present itself as administratively competent and allow the ruling party to absorb the cost of government.

Its strategy is visible: dominate campuses, expand youth structures, penetrate professional institutions, reclaim financial influence, challenge the BNP on corruption and governance, and reframe 1971 as a closed or contested chapter.

The danger is not simply that Jamaat may win more seats in the future. The greater danger is that it may redefine the limits of acceptable politics before that happens.

Liberal and democratic forces are already being pushed towards the margins. The Awami League’s authoritarianism discredited secular politics, weakened institutions and left a vacuum that the best-organised forces are now filling. Jamaat did not create that vacuum, but it is exploiting it with remarkable efficiency. Bangladesh has moved from one-party domination to competitive polarisation. The BNP controls the government. Jamaat is building the state it hopes to inherit.

The clashes in marketplaces, colleges and provincial towns are not peripheral disturbances. They are advance notices of the struggle ahead.
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