It is said that the best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter. But those who say this have perhaps never visited Bangladesh, where the average voter has survived 15 years of electoral theatre and still hopes the ballot box might listen to them. On February 12, that hope gets its day, across 42,779 polling centres, where more than 127 million Bangladeshis will—for the first time since the rigged spectacles of 2014, 2018, and 2024—choose their next government. Let nobody steal that opportunity from them.
This is not merely an election. It is a referendum on whether Bangladesh can govern itself without a strongman, a coup, or an interim arrangement that overstays its welcome like a guest who moved in to help with the cooking but now changed the Wi-Fi password. Investors, development partners, and neighbouring capitals—all are watching to see if Bangladesh can pull off the biggest democratic exercise of 2026 without the kind of chaos that makes international headline writers reach for their favourite adjective: “failed.”
Among the contesting parties, the Bangladesh Nationalist Party enters the election from what many acknowledge to be a favourable position. To give credit where it’s due, BNP has campaigned on a platform of inclusion and transformation and has articulated a vision of governance beyond “winner takes all.” Although the real test, as always, will be in making this happen. Then there is Jamaat-e-Islami, which deserves a nuanced conversation. Jamaat commands a significant voter base, has run a disciplined campaign, and could play a constructive role in parliament, particularly in ensuring that the next legislature does not degenerate into the familiar theatre of absolute majority versus decorative opposition. With the Awami League absent, it is poised to be one of the two majoritarian parties of Bangladesh’s once-again predominantly bipartisan parliament. The country desperately needs checks and balances in its parliament.
But here is where the plot thickens, not in an Agatha Christie way, but in the distinctly Bangladeshi fashion where everyone knows who the suspects are but nobody names them at dinner.
Since the election schedule was announced, at least 16 political activists have been killed. The assassination of Sharif Osman Hadi—shot in broad daylight the day after the election schedule was announced—served as a wake-up call about how far certain forces may go to derail the electoral process. Over 600 were reportedly injured in January alone. Firearms looted during the July 2024 uprising are resurfacing during present clashes. Days before the vote, strategically timed street protests escalated into violent confrontations, including near the chief adviser’s residence. Whether driven by genuine grievance or calibrated provocation, the pattern that emerges from these incidents suggests that forces are out there trying to destabilise the security environment or create enough chaos to legitimise claims of election engineering and rigging after the fact.
The military and law enforcement agencies are the only organised forces capable of delivering electoral security. Antagonising the public against them now serves only those who benefit from any electoral chaos or postponement of the polls. In this regard, it should be mentioned that major contesting parties have warned against foul play in the election, which carries an undertone that gives one pause—the kind of pause where you smile politely while wondering if you’ve just heard a democratic principle or a pre-drafted press release for rejecting inconvenient results. One hopes it’s the former.
Another key dimension here is the Awami League’s absence. Awami League voters deserve to vote freely as citizens. I would tell them that one should not take dietary advice from a person feasting at a five-star buffet abroad while they tell you to starve at home. Awami League affiliates owe nothing to their remorseless leaders, who chose exile over accountability and now demand loyalty from the comfort of someone else’s guest room. So, any attempt to destabilise this election—through provocations, boycotts, or manufactured crises—will breed instability and open the floodgates for the very forces everyone claims to oppose.
The youth vote is the elephant in every political room. The 18-to-25 cohort has never voted but has lived through the suffocating autocracy before August 2024—firsthand experience of state bullets, but none of ballot ink. The 26-to-35 bracket carries comparative political memory but remains sceptical. Together, they form a decisive bloc largely guided by whoever appears least likely to repeat the sins of the past. At the same time, I do not doubt Dr Muhammad Yunus’s intention to deliver a credible election. But I am Machiavellian enough to suspect that some within the government would prefer the current arrangement to continue indefinitely, or for the election to fall short of its intended goal of democratic renewal. They will be judged accordingly once a new government takes office.
The interim government has undertaken considerable grassroots electoral preparation, which should be acknowledged. But its critical limitation lies elsewhere. The government and its cohorts failed to empower or encourage local communities to actively resist violence and rigging at the polling station level. Law enforcement, however dedicated, cannot protect every booth or ballot. What was needed was a culture of citizen vigilance—communities understanding that guarding the vote is a shared civic responsibility, not the state’s job alone.
Which brings me to the most important point. The people must guard this election. Nearly one million security personnel have been formally deployed, but they may still face the cumulative effects of misinformation, deepfakes, or manufactured mob fury. The role of ordinary citizens in protecting polling stations and aiding security forces is therefore not optional; it has become essential. There has to be genuine public mobilisation to resist anyone with a banner, a slogan, or a whisper from the corridors of power or influence that suggests that the election should not happen as promised.
At the end of the day, Bangladesh cannot afford another parliament where the opposition is a decorative minion. Nor can it afford parties rewriting the post-August 5 settlement because they fear the ballot box. Rabindranath Tagore wrote, “You can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.” Bangladesh has stood and stared for long enough. February 12 is the day we wade forward. Let not the chaos actors write the nation’s history for us. Vote and guard the polling booth.
Shahab Enam Khan is professor of international relations at Bangladesh University of Professionals and Jahangirnagar University.
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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