Vote, ballot, satire: A portrait of democratic uncertainty

Electoral politics in Bangladesh has now reached such a stage where reading the news and hearing a joke feel like nearly the same experience. When will the 13th parliamentary election be held? One could say a tug of war is ongoing between political parties, especially the BNP, and the caretaker government. Some say these are political dramas. Others call it the final verse of democracy. But whatever it may be called, what echoes deeply in the mind of an ordinary citizen today is this: does anything actually change through voting?

In his address to the nation on the evening before Eid-ul-Azha, Chief Adviser Dr Muhammad Yunus highlighted various activities undertaken by his government over the past ten months, particularly the reforms, and mentioned a somewhat definitive timeframe for the much-discussed and anticipated 13th parliamentary election, stating, “The upcoming national election will be held on any day in the first half of April 2026.”

In Bangladesh’s politics, the “April theory” is now no longer just a date—it has become a symbolic mixture of political imagination, promises, fears, and satire. In 2004, the then General Secretary of the Awami League, Abdul Jalil, had declared, “The government will fall by April 30.” But that promise was not fulfilled. Rather, that deadline created political instability and confusion among the public. As a result, after that deadline-politics failed, many began mockingly referring to April 30 as “April Fool.”

Analysing from a factual perspective, it is seen that none of the 12 national parliamentary elections held since Bangladesh’s independence have taken place in April. The months of the elections were: two in January, three in February, two in March, and one each in May, June, October, and December. In other words, April remains an “unknown” election month.

Therefore, if the next national parliamentary election is indeed held in April 2026, it will be the first “April election” in the country’s history. This can be interpreted not just as a calendar record but also as a symbolic political event—especially at a time when political trust and scepticism are teetering around “dates” and “deadlines.”

Every pre-election period feels like a courtyard of hope—a new leadership will emerge, injustices will be addressed, old power circles will be dismantled, and new faces will come forward; but reality repeatedly proves that an election is merely a new stage for an old play. Only the names change, the costumes change—but the characters remain the same.

New promises, old curse
Politics in Bangladesh has long been imprisoned by two main forces—the Awami League and the BNP. Both sides speak of democracy, but in practice, they seem intent on obliterating each other. The Awami League, on one hand, seeks to showcase development, trying to suggest the image of a developing nation through major projects; on the other hand, it suppresses the opposition, curtails dissent, and conducts elections under the cover of darkness of night to establish an authoritarian reality.

On the other hand, even though the BNP describes itself as “uncompromising,” questions can still be raised about the party’s leadership structure and internal democracy. The party’s acting chairman, Tarique Rahman, has long been conducting politics from abroad—which has created a reality of “shadow leadership.” As a result, instead of democracy, what becomes visible is “partocracy”—where centralised decisions dominate over institutional structures.

The recent “London dialogue”, speculations about a Yunus-Tarique alliance, confusing statements, and the rumours surrounding the July Charter—are no longer being seen as mere strategic pre-election chaos. Rather, many analysts consider this a new reality—where the objective is not elections but altering the very structure or design of politics. And behind this attempt at political transformation lie various foreign interests—geopolitical, security-related, economic hegemony, and even the balance of power in South Asia.

Among ordinary people, a strong perception is now working that, “If elections are held, the BNP will form the government with a vast majority.” But will that truly be the case? Could there be some internal reality or strategic calculation behind Tarique Rahman repeatedly saying, “The next election will be extremely difficult for the BNP”?

These questions are now at the centre of political analysis.
▪ Will the BNP form the government alone, or move toward a coalition government?
▪ Even if they win a majority, will there be an attempt to form a “national unity government”?
▪ Will that government include Jamaat-e-Islami, NCP, Islami Andolan Bangladesh, and other Islamist or emerging parties?
▪ If so, who will be in the opposition? The Awami League or a new “third force”?

Politics in Bangladesh at the moment is not exactly in an electoral process—rather, it has entered a phase of structural transition, where unseen alliances, foreign calculations, and internal shadow-strategies are receiving more importance than familiar leadership.

If democracy truly reflects the will of the people, then breaking free from this shadow-policy politics is now the most urgent challenge.

New faces, old silence
When public confidence in the two major powers begins to decline, new parties and young politicians attempt to fill the political vacuum. The NCP had become one such name that inspired hope. It was said that this party would represent the youth, ensure safe participation for women, and reform old politics. But in a short time, it became apparent—the “new” party bore old creases. Lack of experience, irresponsibility, violations of party conduct, even disrespect towards female colleagues—all these combined to shatter public trust.

One party leader, defending himself on social media, made a comment that left people deeply disappointed: “We’re really not that different.”

Meanwhile, allegations about the luxurious lifestyles of some NCP leaders have sparked controversy. In some cases, they have provided explanations. But how acceptable those explanations are remains questionable. On the other hand, they have yet to show any evidence of having achieved anything beyond the traditional political paradigm.

When politics claims to be “different” but proves itself “ordinary,” people don’t just lose trust—they grow angry at the betrayal.

Social media: Opponent of the ballot
Once upon a time, hopes, grievances, and protests of the people were expressed through wall writings. Now, that space has been replaced by Facebook, YouTube, and X (formerly Twitter). The election field now exists less on the streets and more in virtual media. Here, people are expressing opinions, trolling, mocking—and remarkably, it is here that public sentiment is most clearly reflected. Young people are joking about the word “vote,” with someone saying: “Voting is like picking a sock that’s torn, but stinks a little less than the other one.”

This satire is not mere humour—it is a protest of anger, frustration, and political deprivation of the citizen. If the state does not respect the voter, then the voter no longer fears the state—this is the new reality. If we interpret our political failures through the humour embedded in jokes, as in the former Soviet Union, then that trend has now begun in Bangladesh too. Asking a voter to choose between one sock with a hole and the other with a mismatched colour—this is what elections have come down to. The promises made before elections— “We’ll end corruption, increase pensions”—turn into “I’ll end you” after elections. Democracy fails when people no longer laugh during elections, rather laugh at elections. Politics rots when people vote not to change reality, but to perform a ritual of expressing despair.

When the word reform fades
We say reform is needed. But when the new imitates the old in the name of reform, that reform becomes just another act in a play. The Awami League, having remained in power for a long time, has exhausted much of itself. But looking at those whom people now wish to see in its place raises fear— “If they come, will it just be a new face of the same old autocracy?”

Concerns surrounding Jamaat-e-Islami are not new, but are re-emerging, particularly with the possibility of a tripartite alliance involving BNP, Jamaat, and NCP. These alliances have no ideology—only the desire to divide up power.

Is the path full of uncertainty?
In this situation, the question naturally arises—why should we go to vote? If, standing before the ballot box, it feels like nothing will change through this decision, then isn’t that vote a kind of insult? If voting is merely a “formality,” then it is not democracy—it is mass separation. People want leadership, constructive debate, a vision for the future. They don’t want to choose between two bad pairs of socks. They want to know—who truly owns this country? They want politics to be a practice through which they understand themselves, dream of change, and find dignity.

Decayed democracy, or awakened people?
More importantly, considering the performance of the interim government over the past 10 months, the prevailing unrest across the country, and the fact that different groups are still able to create mobs over various issues—even with the army deployed with judicial powers, question is being raised whether this government can ultimately hold a free, fair, peaceful, neutral, acceptable, and credible election? Such countless questions are now in people’s minds—questions that have no answers.

Moreover, the situation has become such that it is now difficult to make any prediction about the country’s future. After all, the downfall of a powerful ruler like Sheikh Hasina through an uprising was not something most people anticipated even on the morning of August 5 last year. Therefore, whether elections will even happen next April, or what might occur before then—cannot be said with certainty now.

To understand the political backdrop of this situation, some questions arise before us. The primary responsibility of a government that was formed through a mass uprising should have been to organise a credible and acceptable election. Yet the reality is quite the opposite. Instability in public life, suppression of normal political programmes, and the weak presence of democratic institutions—all this is producing deep frustration in the minds of ordinary people.

Analysts say the minimal success of the interim government is in creating the possibility of a peaceful transfer of power. But if that possibility proves ineffective, or if the transfer again turns into an exclusive farce—then today’s political crisis will take on an even more dreadful shape than the past.

From a comprehensive analysis, it appears that although the state's security apparatus is in a strong position, a kind of unease prevails in public sentiment. Despite both police and army presence, doubts remain about improvement in law and order, as well as questions about the government’s “political goodwill.” Even with judicial powers, the lack of comfort among people signals a deep crisis of trust.

Even some actions of the government are now creating fresh confusion among the public. For instance—certain “internal policy conflicts,” foreign diplomatic manoeuvrings, or latent military restraint—these matters are half-exposed, half-rumour to the public. As a result, in political discussions, imagination is overtaking reason. In this context, a free, acceptable, and peaceful election will be not only an administrative challenge but also a serious test of political credibility.

Meanwhile, those trying to emerge as an alternative force are themselves exhibiting notable disunity, strategic weakness, and a kind of “leaderless courage.” As a result, a portion of the public is turning away from politics in disappointment, while another portion waits—for something bigger to happen.

Bangladesh’s current politics is a tale of fear—where the characters are weak, the dialogues broken, and the audience exhausted. But how will this story end? Will a nation drown merely in satire and ridicule? Or will one day—suddenly—an alternative force awaken, with new consciousness, and declare— “We have not come to laugh anymore. This time we say—No?” If that “No” is true—then democracy will find its path again.

Habib Imon: Political analyst and presidium member of Bangladesh Jubo Union