What to do to overcome political doubts over ‘July Charter’

The present state of Bangladesh’s political structure after the people’s uprising of 2024 can be called an exceptional arrangement. It could not be explained or sustained under the existing constitution; there was no alternative but to resort to some form of extra-constitutional process. In reality, however, under such exceptional circumstances, most decisions and actions continue to follow the methods of the previous system, because the procedures largely remain the same. The only difference lies in which sovereign authority is making the decisions, and why, how, when, and for whom those decisions are being made.

Another reason for continuing with earlier methods is that these procedures help preserve administrative continuity, make sovereign power perceptible to the people, and serve as a convenient example of governance that can be emulated. But whatever the case, all decisions and actions ultimately fall under the authority of the new sovereign power. The extraordinary arrangement that began after 5 August 2024 became apparent when several constitutionally designated officials resigned or were removed in response to the demands and movement of students and the general public. Under normal constitutional conditions, they could not have been removed except through a process of impeachment in Parliament; yet all this happened under an exceptional order, where the will of the victors of the uprising prevails. However it may be in theory, our political history provides many such precedents.

The country gained independence with much hope. Except for a handful of families, everyone paid a price for independence, but only a few families and groups pocketed or tied up the benefits of freedom for themselves. We still argue over whether we want democracy, socialism or a caliphate. Like the demon riding on Sindbad’s shoulders, a few oligarchs have taken hold of 170 million people, each shouting out his own doctrine. There are only them — no people. The people are used either as cannon fodder or as the raw material for seizing power. In our history, the mainstream political parties united only once against the syndicates and the rule of individuals.

In 1990, we received a charter known as the “Outline of the Three Alliances”. It contained several core points: freeing the country from killings, coups, conspiracies and intrigues; establishing a fully democratic system of governance based on the spirit of independence and the Liberation War; forming an interim caretaker government to ensure a free and fair election and constitute a sovereign parliament; making state media, including radio and television, independent and autonomous to guarantee neutrality; recognising the sovereignty of the people and preventing unconstitutional power grabs; safeguarding fundamental rights, ensuring the independence and neutrality of the judiciary and upholding the rule of law; repealing all laws contrary to fundamental rights; refraining from personal slander and from questioning the patriotism or religious faith of rival parties; and resisting communalism and communal propaganda collectively. Unfortunately, these proposals were never implemented. The parties lacked sincerity. The two main party leaders did not sign the charter.

The popular movement of 1990 thus went in vain. This time, almost all parties have signed the July Charter — except the young people whose unrest initially prompted the Yunus government to initiate reforms and the charter itself. They remain dissatisfied. Still, following the signing ceremony, there has been a sense of relief for most. There is no longer any barrier to holding the election. Over the past year, the July Charter has been much debated. It seemed that without this Magna Carta, our elections, government and politics would become paralysed. For ordinary citizens like us, it became difficult to keep track of all the clauses, subclauses, who accepted which point, which were dropped or later amended. Yet, from what the media have summarised, the main issues that drew public attention were the disputes and dissent over the wording of the charter, the differences over how it would be adopted, and the delays over who would or would not sign it. All these phases were rather entertaining. One person was in favour one day, and opposed the next — then persuaded to reluctantly agree again. It is at such points that we have repeatedly stumbled.

Our transition will not resemble China in 1949 or Cuba in 1958. One model of change never exactly follows another. Except for a few drawing-room dreamers, everyone probably wants a multi-party system. Yet for five and a half decades we have practised a form of governance that has not made citizens’ rule sustainable — rather, it has bred rebellion. How do we free ourselves from this? We no longer trust anyone’s speeches or manifestos.

Hence the need for a formal agreement — one where political parties make written pledges to citizens on specific matters. After the fate of the Three-Alliance Outline, the demand has grown for a written commitment — and that is the background to the proposed July Charter. The charter contains 84 reform proposals, of which 47 are constitutional matters to be handled by the elected parliament. Where parties differ, their dissenting opinions are recorded beside the proposals. One important feature of the charter is the seven-point declaration of commitment, whose third clause states that the parties will not challenge the legality or rationale of the charter in any court. The final clause says that the interim government will promptly implement all decisions adopted by consensus in the July Charter. To manage the current situation, the interim government may hold a referendum, likely to be on the same day as the general election, and most parties have supported this.

The referendum should focus only on the points where there is full consensus. The proposals accompanied by dissent or notes of disagreement should be addressed through a long-term solution. For that, a long-term Constitutional Reform Assembly may be formed. To ensure national unity, representatives from various social and professional groups — as in the 1937 Legislative Assembly — could be included, alongside the newly elected government, representatives from the Consensus Commission, women’s representatives, citizens, professionals, minority and non-Bengali representatives, thus forming a platform for national unity.

This Constitutional Reform Assembly could be led by the commissioners of the Consensus Commission. Without rushing, it would be responsible for resolving and implementing the disputed or dissenting proposals of the July Charter through mutual understanding. If we look at Indonesia’s ongoing constitutional process, they began reform in stages in 1999 and completed the final phase in 2002. In that last phase they reached constitutional settlements on Sharia law, the constitutional court and provincial autonomy. To preserve national unity, they allowed their most conservative province to follow Sharia law. This gradual process helped unite a divided nation. Bangladesh too must respect its internal diversity of opinion.

Arrangements must be made so that groups on opposite poles can continue dialogue. With time, they themselves will find solutions. The interim government is taking time with many of its promised tasks to ensure quality. As it stands at the crucial stage of constitutional reform, if it maintains that same focus on quality, the interests of the people will be protected. We have not yet managed to put our country in order. The question is — why not? Some blame the East India Company, some condemn the Pakistani rulers, some invoke Mir Jafar in every discussion. But Mir Jafar became a ghost two and a half centuries ago. The Company’s rule ended 78 years ago; Pakistan’s grip slipped away 54 years ago. So why this failure, this regret, this despair? How long will we keep hiding behind the past? We must take responsibility for everything ourselves.

Rayhan Ahmed Tapader: Researcher and columnist, United Kingdom