What Trump-Mamdani meeting shows about the mature democratic culture

For months, Donald Trump and Zohran Mamdani were hurling verbal grenades at each other. Trump called the young New Yorker a "communist," "communist lunatic," and even floated threats of cutting federal funding to the city if Mamdani became mayor. Mamdani, in turn, labelled Trump a "despot," "fascist," and warned that under his leadership New York would have to "fight" to protect its democratic values. It was a classic American political brawl, loud, ideological, and seemingly irreconcilable.

And yet, when the two finally sat down in the Oval Office, the atmosphere was startlingly different. Cordial. Respectful. Even warm.

Now switch scenes. Picture two top Bangladeshi political leaders meeting after trading brutal campaign rhetoric. Imagine them exchanging compliments, discussing shared policy goals, and publicly promising to work together for the people. Unthinkable.

For a country accustomed to heavy polarisation, the meeting became a kind of civics lesson that a functional democratic culture demands both conflict and cooperation, and that adversaries can still sit together to work for the public good. 

Bangladesh has spent decades trapped in a zero-sum political culture, where rivalry is framed as moral combat and the opposing side is treated as illegitimate. The Trump–Mamdani meeting highlights what Bangladeshi politics chronically lacks.

How the meeting showed democratic maturity

Before the meeting, there were murmurs of things going south. Yet Trump praised Mamdani repeatedly, calling him "a rational person" and saying he would be "cheering for him." Mamdani shared the sentiment, speaking about shared priorities and mutual commitment to "affordability." Far-right outlets and online activists watched in disbelief as Trump tapped Mamdani's arm, shielded him from hostile questions, and joked about being called a despot.

Mamdani did not retract his criticisms. Trump did not deny his earlier attacks. They simply agreed to move forward. In their joint appearance, they did not pretend to be ideologically aligned; instead, they identified shared priorities and issues affecting millions of New Yorkers.

It also showed that it is a standard democratic practice to have the ability to disagree publicly but work privately. This ability to compartmentalise political rivalry and institutional responsibility is central to democratic culture. 

Trump lost the mayoral election in the sense that his endorsed candidate, Andrew Cuomo, was defeated. But upon meeting Mamdani, he immediately congratulated him on running an "incredible race" and spoke openly about wanting him to succeed.

This reflects a deep-rooted democratic instinct: the transition from political combat to constitutional cooperation. The defeated side acknowledges the victor's legitimacy, not grudgingly, but with public affirmation. Now, imagine Bangladesh here.

The White House meeting was framed as customary, a newly elected mayor meeting the president. There was no question about whether the meeting should happen; institutions demanded it. Personal grudges, ideological disagreements, and even campaign threats all became secondary to the ritual of political transition.

The meeting also showed that political opponents should be treated as legitimate actors, not enemies. A great example of this was Trump explicitly disavowing the Islamophobic attacks coming from within his own base. When Rep. Elise Stefanik called Mamdani a "jihadist," Trump publicly rejected that line of attack. In front of cameras, the president defended an opponent's legitimacy.

In functioning democracies, political adversaries are rival visions, not existential threats.

Why is it so different from Bangladeshi political culture?

In Bangladesh, confrontation is the default political language. Once two politicians engage in verbal or ideological conflict, the hostility almost never de-escalates. We can all imagine the vicious comments the ousted prime minister and convicted criminal Sheikh Hasina lobbed at her opposition leaders.

Even after the July Uprising, some political parties openly threatened non-cooperation if they were not elected to the government. Thus, grievances accumulate. Compromise becomes synonymous with weakness. Political incentives reward intransigence, not cooperation.

Compare this to Trump joking about being called a fascist. In Bangladesh, such accusations would ignite months of press conferences, party protests, defamation lawsuits, and rhetorical warfare.

Where the US demonstrates a sharp boundary, Bangladesh's political class treats elections as permanent battles. There is no cooling-off period. Winners use victory to consolidate power; losers prepare for street agitation and non-cooperation.

Another major issue is that here, the institutions are not strong enough to force cooperation. American political actors can dislike each other all they want, but their institutions expect coordination. 

Bangladesh's institutions, by contrast, adapt to political divisions rather than restrain them. Meetings, dialogues, and joint consultations become optional or symbolic instead of mandatory tools of governance. Even the months-long National Consensus Commission failed to reach an agreement among the political parties, due to some parties' continuous goalpost shifting.

The opposition is framed as an existential threat in Bangladesh. Trump and Mamdani disagree on nearly everything: immigration, economics, and ideology. Yet neither treated the other as someone whose mere existence was dangerous to the nation.

Bangladeshi politics, however, is shaped by a narrative that the other side is fundamentally destructive. Take the currently suspended party Awami League, which labelled the opposition as 'anti-national', 'terrorist' and 'anti-development.' This delegitimisation is what makes cooperation politically risky and why adversaries rarely share a platform unless forced.

The Trump–Mamdani meeting was not about American exceptionalism but political maturity, showing that democracy endures not because politicians stop fighting but because they continue cooperating for the nation's sake. 

Their encounter demonstrated how stabilising it is when rivals show grace after hard-fought elections, restoring public trust and reminding citizens that politics is a contest of ideas, not a battle to destroy opponents. If Bangladeshi politics hopes to move beyond its entrenched confrontational cycles, it must learn this essential skill: to argue fiercely, then shake hands and work together to govern.

Shadique Mahbub Islam is a journalist.