Tarique Rahman
The electoral outcome itself reflects both consolidation and fragmentation. With 212 of 297 declared seats, including 209 secured by the BNP alone, the new government commands a strong parliamentary majority. However, the composition of the opposition signals a troubling shift. The dramatic resurgence of Jamaat-e-Islami (JeI)—from a marginal force with just two seats in 2008 to 77 seats in the current Jatiya Sangsad—positions it as the principal opposition bloc. This transformation is not merely electoral arithmetic; it reflects the steady organisational expansion and grassroots penetration of Islamist networks over the past decade and a half. The marginalisation of the National Citizen Party (NCP), despite its role in spearheading the 2024 student-led uprising that forced Sheikh Hasina from power, further illustrates the volatility of Bangladesh’s political currents and the limited durability of protest-driven movements.
The context in which these elections unfolded was one of pervasive insecurity. Throughout 2025, mob violence emerged as a defining feature of public life. Data from rights organisations paints a stark picture: hundreds of lynching incidents, thousands affected by political violence, and a steady rise in fatalities compared to previous years. The normalisation of vigilantism, combined with shrinking democratic space, created an environment where law enforcement appeared either unwilling or unable to assert control. This erosion of state authority was compounded, rather than mitigated, by the interim government’s response.
Operation Devil Hunt, launched ostensibly to restore order, instead revealed the selective nature of state coercion. Framed as a campaign against “fascists” and “anarchists,” it overwhelmingly targeted political opponents, particularly supporters of the banned Awami League. Tens of thousands were arrested across its two phases, even as broader patterns of violence persisted. The operation blurred the line between law enforcement and political persecution, reinforcing perceptions that the state’s coercive apparatus was being instrumentalised rather than reformed.
At the same time, a paradox emerged in Bangladesh’s security landscape. While there were no recorded fatalities linked to proscribed Islamist terrorist groups in 2025, the year witnessed a steady stream of arrests of radical operatives and, more significantly, an apparent permissiveness toward Islamist mobilisation. The release on bail of individuals linked to militant organisations, public rallies by banned groups, and even reported interactions between local militants and transnational jihadist actors point to a policy environment marked by inconsistency at best, and tacit accommodation at worst. Training camps, recruitment drives targeting students, and ideological outreach under religious cover suggest that radical networks were not only active but increasingly confident.
This permissive atmosphere extended into the formal political sphere. Islamist parties and organisations openly articulated agendas that challenge the foundational principles of Bangladesh’s constitutional order—from calls for an Islamic caliphate to demands for punitive measures against religious minorities. The electoral gains of Jamaat-e-Islami must be understood within this broader ecosystem, where ideological mobilisation, organisational discipline, and political opportunity have converged.
The near-total exclusion of the Awami League from political life represents another defining feature of this transitional moment. Banned under the Anti-Terrorism Act and subjected to sustained legal and administrative pressure, the party has effectively been erased from formal politics. The sentencing of Sheikh Hasina in absentia and directives to pursue Awami League “criminals” irrespective of due process underscore the punitive orientation of the interim regime. While isolated symbolic acts—such as flag hoisting at local offices—suggest residual support, the continuation of the ban under the new BNP government indicates that political pluralism remains severely constrained.
Beyond the formal political arena, the human cost of this instability has been immense. Religious minorities faced a year of sustained vulnerability, with hundreds of incidents ranging from killings and assaults to the destruction of homes and places of worship. Independent reports sharply contradict official claims, pointing to a systematic underestimation of communal violence. The targeting of minorities, alongside the broader climate of impunity, raises serious concerns about the state’s willingness—or capacity—to uphold equal protection under the law.
The media landscape offers a parallel narrative of democratic erosion. Journalists faced widespread harassment, legal intimidation, and physical violence. The coordinated attacks on major newspaper offices and cultural institutions in December 2025 marked a particularly alarming escalation, signalling not only hostility toward independent voices but also the absence of effective state protection. In such an environment, the space for dissent and critical scrutiny narrows significantly, further weakening democratic accountability.
Peripheral regions and vulnerable populations experienced their own distinct crises. The Rohingya refugee camps in Cox’s Bazar remained volatile, shaped by internal criminal networks, factional rivalries, and the spillover of conflict from Myanmar. Meanwhile, the Chittagong Hill Tracts saw a resurgence of violence, human rights abuses, and the entrenchment of what has been described as a “terror economy,” driven by extortion, arms trafficking, and narcotics. Indigenous communities bore the brunt of these dynamics, facing displacement, coercion, and cultural marginalisation.
Taken together, these developments define the Yunus administration as a period marked by institutional paralysis, selective repression, and the erosion of normative governance. The inability to build political consensus, coupled with escalating violence and administrative incoherence, created a vacuum that the BNP has now filled through electoral dominance.
Yet the transition to the Rahman government does not automatically resolve these underlying challenges. If anything, it inherits a deeply fractured polity: one where democratic institutions have been weakened, political opposition is constrained, Islamist forces are ascendant, and social cohesion is under strain. The durability of the new administration will depend not only on its electoral mandate but on its capacity to restore rule of law, re-establish institutional credibility, and address the grievances that have accumulated across society.
Bangladesh stands at a critical juncture. The past year has demonstrated how quickly governance can unravel when coercion substitutes for consensus and impunity replaces accountability. The months ahead will determine whether the country can reverse this trajectory—or whether the patterns of violence, exclusion, and instability that defined 2025 will continue to shape its political future.
