The Crossroads of Dhaka, Bangladesh’s Election, the Regional Rebalancing, and the Unfinished Business of 1971
On Thursday, February 12, 2026, approximately 127 million Bangladeshi voters are called upon to perform an act of democratic citizenship that is simultaneously routine and unprecedented. They will elect 300 members of the Jatiya Sangsad, the national parliament—a familiar exercise, conducted at intervals since the restoration of parliamentary democracy in 1991. But this election unfolds in a political landscape that has been fundamentally and violently transformed.
The Awami League, the party that led the liberation struggle of 1971 and dominated Bangladeshi politics for most of the subsequent five decades, has been banished from the electoral arena. Its registration is suspended; its activities are banned under the Anti-Terrorism Act; its exiled president, Sheikh Hasina, has been convicted in absentia of “crimes against humanity”; more than 1,700 cases have been filed against its activists and supporters nationwide. The party that won 288 of 300 seats in the 2024 election—a victory widely condemned as deeply flawed, but a victory nonetheless—is reduced to instructing its supporters to boycott a process it has denounced as illegitimate.
The interim administration of Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus, which assumed power in August 2024 following the street mobilisations that ousted the Hasina government, has failed to deliver on its promised political reforms. Instead, it has been consumed by internal contradictions, inexperience in statecraft, and a troubling drift toward historical revisionism. Its attempt to erase the legacy of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the founding father of Bangladesh, and its success in securing Hasina’s conviction on charges that many legal scholars and human rights observers view as politically motivated, have deepened polarisation rather than healing wounds.
Most alarmingly, the post-Hasina interregnum has witnessed the mainstreaming of Islamist agendas and the rehabilitation of revisionist history that obscures Pakistan’s role in the 1971 genocide. The Jamaat-e-Islami, whose leadership was prosecuted for war crimes following Bangladesh’s independence and whose collaboration with the Pakistani army during the liberation struggle remains a deep and unhealed wound in the national memory, has been returned to the political mainstream. The historical narrative that the 1971 war was a civil conflict between Bengali nationalists rather than a genocidal campaign by the Pakistani military—a narrative assiduously promoted by Islamist and pro-Pakistan elements for decades—has gained renewed currency.
This is the messy, contested, and deeply uncertain terrain on which Bangladesh’s 2026 election is being conducted. The outcome will determine not merely which party or coalition forms the next government in Dhaka. It will shape the trajectory of South Asian geopolitics for years to come. It will test the durability of India’s strategic interests in its eastern neighbourhood. It will signal the extent to which Bangladesh can reclaim its founding identity as a secular, democratic, pluralistic nation. And it will determine whether the aspirations of the 1971 liberation struggle—for a state that is not only independent but also just, inclusive, and accountable—can survive the assaults of authoritarianism, communalism, and historical amnesia.
The Erasure and Its Consequences: Awami League, Sheikh Mujib, and the Politics of Memory
The interim government’s campaign to erase the legacy of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman is not merely an act of political vengeance against the party that dominated Bangladeshi politics for five decades. It is an assault on the foundational narrative of the Bangladeshi nation.
Sheikh Mujib is not merely the founder of the Awami League; he is the progenitor of Bangladesh itself. His declaration of independence on March 26, 1971, triggered the nine-month liberation war that culminated in the surrender of Pakistani forces on December 16. His portrait hangs in every government office, every school, and every public institution. His speech of March 7 is memorised by schoolchildren and recited at national ceremonies. His daughter, Sheikh Hasina, governed the country for more than 15 years. To erase Sheikh Mujib is to decapitate the national memory.
The campaign of erasure has taken multiple forms. The Yunus administration has removed Mujib’s portrait from official buildings, renamed institutions that bore his name, and systematically excluded his legacy from state-sponsored commemorations. It has supported efforts to revise school curricula to diminish his role in the liberation struggle. And it has successfully prosecuted his daughter on charges of “crimes against humanity”—a term that, in the Bangladeshi context, carries the weight of the 1971 genocide and its perpetrators.
The legal and factual basis for Hasina’s conviction is, to put it charitably, contested. Many international human rights organisations and legal scholars have expressed serious concerns about the fairness of the proceedings, the admissibility of evidence, and the political context in which the prosecution was conducted. The trial was conducted under emergency powers, with limited access to defence counsel and minimal opportunity for cross-examination. The verdict was announced just weeks before an election from which Hasina’s party had been effectively excluded. The appearance of political vendetta is overwhelming.
Yet for the Yunus administration and its supporters, the conviction is not a legal proceeding but a ritual of purification. It is intended to symbolically sever Bangladesh from the Awami League era and to delegitimise the political tradition that Hasina represented. It is an attempt to write the party that led the liberation struggle out of the national narrative—or, worse, to recast it as a criminal enterprise rather than a liberation movement.
This is not merely bad politics; it is dangerous history. A nation that erases its founders does not thereby achieve closure; it inflicts a wound on its own identity. The erasure of Sheikh Mujib creates a vacuum that will be filled by competing, and often divisive, alternative narratives. The rehabilitation of the Jamaat-e-Islami and the resurgence of revisionist history are direct consequences of this vacuum.
The Revisionist Resurgence: Pakistan, Genocide, and the Unlearned Lessons of 1971
The most troubling dimension of Bangladesh’s post-Hasina political transition is the resurgence of revisionist narratives about the 1971 liberation war. These narratives, long promoted by Islamist and pro-Pakistan elements within Bangladesh and by Pakistan’s official diplomatic apparatus, seek to reframe the nine-month conflict as a civil war between Bengali nationalists and pro-Pakistan Bengalis, rather than a genocidal campaign by the Pakistani military against a civilian population.
This revisionism is not innocent historical inquiry; it is political warfare. It seeks to dilute Pakistan’s responsibility for the systematic murder of between 300,000 and 3 million Bengalis, the rape of an estimated 200,000 to 400,000 women, and the displacement of approximately 10 million refugees to India. It seeks to legitimise the collaborationist role of Islamist parties like the Jamaat-e-Islami, whose leadership actively supported the Pakistani military and whose cadres formed auxiliary forces that participated in atrocities. And it seeks to erode the secular, Bengali nationalist foundations of the Bangladeshi state, replacing them with a religious identity that aligns Bangladesh more closely with Pakistan and other Muslim-majority nations.
The rehabilitation of the Jamaat-e-Islami is both a symptom and a cause of this revisionist resurgence. The party, which was banned from political participation following independence and whose top leaders were tried and executed for war crimes in the 2010s, has now returned to the political mainstream. It is contesting 224 seats in the 2026 election as part of an 11-party alliance. Its candidates have been permitted to campaign openly, to invoke the party’s history and ideology, and to present themselves as legitimate participants in the democratic process.
The Jamaat’s rehabilitation is not a democratic outcome; it is the consequence of a political calculation that prioritised anti-Awami League coalition-building over the principles of secularism and liberation history. The interim government’s ambivalence toward the party’s past, and its willingness to tolerate the revisionist narratives that the party promotes, have created an environment in which the foundational crimes of 1971 can be minimised, justified, or even denied.
This is not merely a domestic Bangladeshi concern. It has profound implications for India, which intervened militarily in December 1971 to secure Bangladeshi independence and which has since maintained a strategic partnership with Dhaka based in significant part on shared memories of the liberation struggle. The erasure of those memories and the rehabilitation of those who collaborated with Pakistan in 1971 erodes the foundation of India-Bangladesh trust. It signals that the generation that fought and died for independence is being succeeded by a generation that is willing to trade that legacy for short-term political advantage.
The Geopolitical Recalibration: India, BNP, and the New Strategic Equation
The frontrunner in the 2026 election is the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), which governed Bangladesh from 1991 to 1996 and from 2001 to 2006 under the leadership of Khaleda Zia. The BNP’s relationship with India has historically been more distant and more difficult than the Awami League’s. The party has been more critical of Indian influence, more sceptical of bilateral agreements that it perceives as asymmetrical, and more willing to maintain warm relations with Pakistan and China.
Yet the BNP’s posture toward India has moderated significantly in the lead-up to the 2026 election. Party leaders have signalled their willingness to engage constructively with New Delhi, to maintain existing bilateral agreements, and to avoid the kind of inflammatory rhetoric that characterised previous BNP governments. This moderation reflects both strategic necessity—the recognition that Bangladesh cannot afford hostile relations with its giant neighbour—and the personal diplomacy of Begum Khaleda Zia, who maintained cordial relations with Indian leaders despite her party’s ideological differences with the Congress and its successors.
India’s response to this overture has been cautious but unmistakable. External Affairs Minister S. Jaishankar’s presence at Khaleda Zia’s funeral was a carefully calibrated signal of outreach. It conveyed that New Delhi is prepared to do business with a BNP-led government, provided that such a government respects India’s core strategic interests and maintains the cooperative framework that has been developed over decades.
Those core interests are well-understood by both sides. They include: preventing Bangladeshi territory from being used as a sanctuary by anti-India militant groups; maintaining and expanding bilateral trade and investment; ensuring the security of India’s northeastern states through access to Bangladeshi ports and transit routes; and managing the complex challenges of border management, water sharing, and demographic flows. A BNP government that respects these interests will find India a reliable, if demanding, partner.
The United States is also actively engaged in Dhaka, seeking to expand its influence in a country that has increasingly oriented itself toward China in recent years. The recently concluded US-Bangladesh trade deal is a significant achievement for American diplomacy, providing Washington with economic leverage to complement its strategic interests. The US is likely to support any government in Dhaka that maintains an independent foreign policy, resists excessive dependence on Beijing, and cooperates on regional security issues.
This confluence of Indian and American interests in a stable, cooperative Bangladesh creates a favourable geopolitical environment for the incoming government. It also imposes constraints: a BNP administration that seeks to balance its relationships with India, China, Pakistan, and the United States will need to navigate with considerable skill and prudence. The era of bipolar alignment, in which Bangladesh was either firmly in India’s camp (under the Awami League) or suspiciously distant (under previous BNP governments), is over. The new era demands strategic sophistication, not reflexive partisanship.
The Unfinished Business: Minorities, Pluralism, and the Promise of 1971
The most urgent domestic challenge facing Bangladesh’s incoming government is the protection of minority communities, particularly the Hindu minority that has been disproportionately targeted in the violence that followed the 2024 regime change. The interim administration’s failure to prevent attacks on Hindu temples, businesses, and homes, and its reluctance to prosecute perpetrators, has sent a chilling message that the rights of minority citizens are conditional rather than guaranteed.
This is not merely a law-and-order problem; it is a test of Bangladesh’s identity. The 1971 liberation struggle was fought not only for territorial independence but for a vision of Bangladesh as a secular, pluralistic, and inclusive nation—a homeland for all its citizens regardless of religion, ethnicity, or language. The preamble to the 1972 Constitution enshrined secularism as a fundamental principle of state policy. The sacrifices of the liberation war were offered in the name of a Bangladesh where Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, and Christians could live together in dignity and equality.
That vision has been repeatedly betrayed over the subsequent five decades. Military dictatorships and authoritarian civilian governments have used religion as a tool of political legitimation. Islamist parties have demanded the recognition of Islam as the state religion, a demand that was partially conceded in 1988 and fully enacted in 2011. Sectarian violence has periodically erupted, targeting Hindu communities in particular, and has been met with official indifference or complicity.
The 2026 election offers an opportunity to reclaim the promise of 1971. A government that prioritises minority protection, prosecutes perpetrators of communal violence, and reaffirms the secular and pluralistic foundations of the Bangladeshi state can begin to reverse the decades-long erosion of minority rights. Such a government would also strengthen Bangladesh’s international standing, particularly in India, where the treatment of Hindus in Bangladesh is a matter of deep and legitimate concern.
The BNP’s outreach to minority communities, and even the Jamaat-e-Islami’s gestures toward minority voters, are encouraging signs. But gestures are not guarantees, and outreach is not protection. The incoming government will be judged by its actions, not its words. It will be judged by whether it investigates and prosecutes attacks on minorities with the same vigour it applies to other crimes. It will be judged by whether it ensures that minority communities can participate in political life without fear of intimidation or violence. It will be judged by whether it defends the secular and pluralistic character of the Bangladeshi state against those who would transform it into an exclusive, majoritarian theocracy.
Conclusion: The Crossroads and the Road Ahead
Bangladesh is at a crossroads. One path leads toward the consolidation of a democratic, pluralistic, and secular polity that honours the sacrifices of 1971 and fulfils the aspirations of its founders. The other path leads toward majoritarian exclusivism, historical amnesia, and the erosion of the very values that animated the liberation struggle.
The 2026 election will not, by itself, determine which path Bangladesh takes. Elections are moments of choice, but the choices they produce are implemented through years of sustained governance. A government that wins power through democratic means can still govern in authoritarian fashion. A government that promises to protect minority rights can still preside over their erosion. A government that professes commitment to secularism can still accommodate the demands of religious extremists.
The difference will be made not by the election outcome alone but by the quality of democratic citizenship that citizens exercise before, during, and after the vote. It will be made by the vigilance of civil society organisations that monitor government performance and hold elected officials accountable. It will be made by the independence of the judiciary and the professionalism of the civil service. It will be made by the willingness of minority communities to assert their rights and the willingness of majority communities to defend them. It will be made, above all, by the memory of 1971—by the determination of Bangladeshis to honour the sacrifices of the liberation war by building the society for which those sacrifices were offered.
The election of 2026 is not the end of Bangladesh’s journey. It is a milestone on a road that stretches back to the declaration of independence on March 26, 1971, and forward to an unknown destination. The direction of travel will be determined not by the victors alone but by the collective choices of 127 million voters, each of whom carries in their hands a fragment of the nation’s future.
The crossroads is here. The choice is theirs.
Q&A Section
Q1: What is the significance of the interim government’s campaign to “erase the legacy of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman,” and why is this described as an assault on Bangladesh’s foundational narrative?
A1: Sheikh Mujibur Rahman is not merely the founder of the Awami League but the progenitor of Bangladesh itself. His declaration of independence on March 26, 1971, triggered the nine-month liberation war; his portrait hung in every government office; his March 7 speech is memorised by schoolchildren; his daughter governed for 15 years. To erase Sheikh Mujib is to decapitate the national memory. The Yunus administration’s campaign has taken multiple forms: removing his portrait from official buildings, renaming institutions, excluding his legacy from state commemorations, revising school curricula, and successfully prosecuting his daughter on contested “crimes against humanity” charges. This is not merely political vengeance; it is an assault on the foundational narrative of the Bangladeshi nation. A nation that erases its founders does not achieve closure; it inflicts a wound on its own identity, creating a vacuum that will be filled by competing, often divisive, alternative narratives. The rehabilitation of the Jamaat-e-Islami and the resurgence of revisionist history about 1971 are direct consequences of this vacuum.
Q2: What is the “revisionist history” of the 1971 liberation war, and why does its resurgence represent a threat to both Bangladeshi national identity and India-Bangladesh relations?
A2: Revisionist history of 1971 seeks to reframe the nine-month conflict as a civil war between Bengali nationalists and pro-Pakistan Bengalis, rather than a genocidal campaign by the Pakistani military against a civilian population. This narrative dilutes Pakistan’s responsibility for the systematic murder of 300,000 to 3 million Bengalis, the rape of 200,000 to 400,000 women, and the displacement of 10 million refugees. It legitimises the collaborationist role of Islamist parties like the Jamaat-e-Islami, whose leadership actively supported the Pakistani military and whose cadres participated in atrocities. The resurgence of this revisionism threatens Bangladeshi national identity because it erodes the secular, Bengali nationalist foundations of the state, replacing them with a religious identity aligned with Pakistan. It threatens India-Bangladesh relations because India’s 1971 military intervention and subsequent strategic partnership with Dhaka are grounded in shared memories of the liberation struggle. The erasure of those memories and the rehabilitation of those who collaborated with Pakistan erode the foundation of bilateral trust, signalling that the liberation generation is being succeeded by a generation willing to trade that legacy for short-term political advantage.
Q3: How has the Bangladesh Nationalist Party’s (BNP) posture toward India evolved in the lead-up to the 2026 election, and what signals has India sent in response?
A3: The BNP’s posture has moderated significantly. Historically more distant from and critical of India than the Awami League, the BNP has signalled its willingness to engage constructively with New Delhi, maintain existing bilateral agreements, and avoid inflammatory rhetoric. This moderation reflects both strategic necessity (recognition that Bangladesh cannot afford hostile relations with its giant neighbour) and the personal diplomacy of Begum Khaleda Zia, who maintained cordial relations with Indian leaders despite her party’s ideological differences. India’s response has been cautious but unmistakable. External Affairs Minister S. Jaishankar’s presence at Khaleda Zia’s funeral was a carefully calibrated signal of outreach, conveying that New Delhi is prepared to do business with a BNP-led government provided it respects India’s core strategic interests. Those interests include: preventing Bangladeshi territory from being used by anti-India militants; maintaining and expanding bilateral trade and investment; securing India’s northeastern states through access to Bangladeshi ports and transit routes; and managing border, water, and demographic challenges. India has signalled that a BNP government that respects these interests will find it a reliable, if demanding, partner.
Q4: What are the core strategic interests that India seeks to protect in its relationship with Bangladesh, and how might these be affected by the 2026 election outcome?
A4: India’s core strategic interests in Bangladesh are well-understood by both sides and have been remarkably consistent across successive governments in both countries. First, security: preventing Bangladeshi territory from being used as a sanctuary by anti-India militant groups. This requires sustained intelligence cooperation and operational coordination. Second, trade and investment: maintaining and expanding bilateral trade (Bangladesh is India’s largest South Asian trading partner) and creating a predictable, non-discriminatory environment for Indian investment. Third, connectivity: ensuring India’s northeastern states have access to Bangladeshi ports and transit routes, which are critical for their economic development and integration with the national mainstream. Major infrastructure projects like the Kolkata-Khulna and Agartala-Akhaura rail links, the Haldibari-Chilahati connectivity project, the 1,000 MW electricity export, and the Tripura-Comilla power link are strategic pillars of the relationship. Fourth, border management: the 4,096-km border requires sustained cooperation on smuggling, trafficking, and demographic flows. Fifth, water sharing: equitable distribution of transboundary river waters remains an unfinished agenda requiring continued negotiation.
The 2026 election outcome could affect these interests in several ways. A BNP government that maintains existing agreements and cooperative frameworks would likely preserve continuity. A government that seeks to renegotiate fundamental terms, pivot toward China, or accommodate anti-India militant groups would seriously damage the relationship. India’s calibrated outreach to the BNP signals its willingness to work with whichever government Dhaka produces, provided core interests are respected.
Q5: What is the “unfinished business of 1971” referenced in the analysis, and why does the protection of minority communities represent its most urgent test?
A5: The “unfinished business of 1971” is the construction of a Bangladesh that fulfils the vision for which the liberation war was fought: not merely an independent state but a secular, pluralistic, and inclusive nation where all citizens—Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist, Christian; Bengali, indigenous; majority, minority—can live together in dignity and equality. The 1972 Constitution enshrined secularism as a fundamental principle. The sacrifices of the liberation war were offered in the name of this vision.
Yet that vision has been repeatedly betrayed over five decades. Military dictatorships and authoritarian civilian governments have used religion for political legitimation. Islamist parties have demanded and partially secured recognition of Islam as the state religion. Sectarian violence has periodically erupted, targeting Hindu communities in particular, met with official indifference or complicity. The post-2024 violence against minorities and the interim government’s failure to protect them represent the most recent and perhaps most alarming betrayal.
Protection of minority communities is the most urgent test of whether Bangladesh can reclaim the promise of 1971 because it is the most visible indicator of the state’s commitment to pluralism and equal citizenship. A government that fails to protect minorities, that prosecutes perpetrators of communal violence only selectively or not at all, that tolerates the rhetoric of majoritarian exclusivism, demonstrates that its professed commitment to secularism and inclusion is merely rhetorical. Conversely, a government that prioritises minority protection, prosecutes communal violence vigorously, and reaffirms the pluralistic foundations of the state can begin to reverse decades of erosion. The BNP’s outreach to minority communities and even the Jamaat-e-Islami’s gestures toward minority voters are encouraging signs, but gestures are not guarantees. The incoming government will be judged by its actions, not its words.
