Opinion Awami League’s ban in Bangladesh represents the interim government’s authoritarian excess

Yet, the fall was as spectacular as the rise. Hasina’s fourth consecutive term, obtained through what many called a sham election in January 2024, triggered student-led uprisings. Sparked by grievances such as job quota discrimination and economic inequity, the protests quickly transformed into a full-blown movement against state authoritarianism. The government’s brutal crackdown, which resulted in over 1,400 deaths, unleashed a series of events that culminated in Hasina’s resignation and the installation of a military-backed caretaker government.

The banning of the Awami League must be viewed not in isolation but within Bangladesh’s long tradition of political exclusion and revenge politics. The ideological roots of this practice can be traced back to Mujibur Rahman’s own shift towards authoritarianism, as he established the one-party BaKSAL (Bangladesh Krishak Sramik Awami League) system in 1975. This move, designed to consolidate authority in a chaotic post-war environment, set the tone for future regimes: when in power, eliminate the opposition rather than coexist with it.

Later, military rulers like Ziaur Rahman and H M Ershad cemented this trajectory by introducing martial law and reviving Islamist political forces to undercut the Awami League. The battle lines between the pro-liberation forces and anti-liberation forces hardened into permanent features of Bangladeshi political identity. The two major parties — the Awami League and the BNP (Bangladesh Nationalist Party) — entrenched themselves as bitter rivals in a zero-sum game that left no room for compromise, dialogue, or consensus-building.

Sheikh Hasina’s 15-year rule delivered significant economic gains. Bangladesh’s GDP grew robustly, infrastructure improved, and poverty rates declined. However, these achievements were accompanied by an intensification of authoritarianism. The dismantling of the neutral caretaker system for elections in 2011, the suppression of opposition parties through arrests and disappearances, the muzzling of independent media, and the use of digital security laws to silence critics – these factors cumulatively transformed Bangladesh into a de facto one-party state.

The establishment of the International Crimes Tribunal in 2009 aimed at prosecuting war criminals from the 1971 conflict, further polarised the country. Though popular among pro-liberation citizens, the Tribunal’s focus on Jamaat-e-Islami leaders, many of whom were allied with the BNP, was seen as partisan and vindictive by critics. Instead of healing historical wounds, the tribunal served to exacerbate them. Both sides clashed violently in the streets, widening the societal rift dangerously.

Following Hasina’s ouster in August 2024, Muhammad Yunus was appointed as the head of a transitional government with a mandate to restore democratic order. However, the swift banning of the Awami League and the suspension of its electoral registration have sent shockwaves through the political system. Citing the party’s role in the 2024 protest massacres, the interim government invoked a revised Anti-Terrorism Act to justify the action. It also empowered the International Crimes Tribunal to prosecute organisations (not just individuals), paving the way for the Awami League to be tried as a party for crimes against humanity.

The optics are troubling. The party that played a massive role in the birth of the nation is being prosecuted by a caretaker regime with no democratic mandate. Supporters of the Awami League denounced the ban as politically motivated and dangerous. Even critics of Hasina have questioned whether banning an entire political party, one still with a large support base, was justifiable or democratic.

The Awami League’s ban finds a parallel in neighbouring Pakistan, where the state undertook a systematic campaign to neutralise Imran Khan’s PTI party following his ouster in 2023. Mass arrests, disqualification from elections, and even the revocation of the party’s electoral symbol were tactics employed to keep PTI out of the fray. In both cases, powerful establishments used the guise of legal or national security frameworks to exclude dominant political contenders.

The long-term effects in Pakistan are already evident: Disillusioned youth, political radicalisation, and a growing mistrust of democratic institutions. Bangladesh now risks a similar outcome. If the Awami League’s millions of supporters feel permanently disenfranchised, it could lead to civil unrest or even a fracturing of the democratic order.

The banning of the Awami League is both a reckoning with its authoritarian excesses and a dangerous leap into uncertain terrain. While Sheikh Hasina’s regime undeniably stifled democracy, the solution cannot be a scorched-earth policy that excludes the largest political party from the equation. Justice for crimes, whether from war or repression, must be pursued through fair and transparent processes, not through politically loaded tribunals.

Bangladesh stands at a critical juncture. The need of the hour is not just transitional governance, but democratic reconstitution, rebuilding institutions, fostering inclusive dialogue, and re-establishing electoral credibility. The Awami League, despite its flaws, must be part of that process. Imagining a democratic Bangladesh without it would ignore history and risk repeating the mistakes of the last decade.

The writer is professor, MMAJ Academy of International Studies, Jamia Millia Islamia University, New Delhi