Ballots, then batons: Why Bangladesh needs a paradigm shift in its political culture

The ballots had barely been counted when the streets began to speak a familiar language. Within  24 hours of Bangladesh's 13th parliamentary election, social media platforms were flooded with  videos and images of violence — arson, looting, assaults, bleeding bodies, and processions  chanting threats against opposition supporters. 

These were not isolated rumors or recycled footage; many were live recordings, shared as events unfolded. The targets were clear — voters and perceived affiliates of the parties that will now sit in opposition. 

One person was killed and five others injured in separate incidents of post-election violence from Friday evening to Saturday night in five districts, reports say.

What disturbed many observers was not merely the presence of violence, but how recognisably  familiar it looked. The posture of party cadres, the slogans of domination, the confidence of  impunity, the aggressive assertion of street control, all echoed a political aesthetic Bangladesh has endured before. The actors had changed. The script, unfortunately, had not. 

From moral promise to structural pattern 

The July–August 2024 uprising was widely understood as a moral rupture. It was a collective  rejection of repression, enforced disappearances, staged killings, and the systematic hollowing out of democratic institutions. The uprising was not only against a government, but against a way of governing. 

In the aftermath, the party that has now secured electoral victory repeatedly assured the public that it would not replicate the authoritarianism of its predecessor. Justice, restraint, and pluralism  were central to its narrative. Its claim to legitimacy rested on a moral distinction: having suffered  repression, it would not become repressive. 

Yet the eruption of violence immediately after victory casts doubt on whether that distinction is  being sustained in practice. Scholars of post-authoritarian transitions warn that early post election violence often functions as a signal to rivals, institutions, and citizens about who controls public space and whose rights are negotiable. 

If democratic transformation requires not just electoral change but a decisive break from coercive political behavior, then the events following the election raise an uncomfortable question — are we witnessing democratic renewal, or merely the rotation of power within an unchanged political culture? 

The state as spoils, once again 

Street violence is only the most visible symptom. Bangladesh's deeper democratic erosion has  historically occurred through the capture of the state. Bureaucracy, law enforcement, the  judiciary, educational institutions-all have previously been reorganised on the basis of political  loyalty rather than professional integrity. Dissenting civil servants were denied promotion, transferred arbitrarily, sent into administrative exile, or forced into silence. Neutrality was criminalised while allegiance became currency.

There is little reason to assume that this pattern will dissolve without deliberate resistance. When  governing parties view the state as spoils to be redistributed, democratic institutions lose autonomy and accountability collapses. Political scientists describe this condition as competitive authoritarianism — elections exist, but the rules of governance are systematically bent to entrench power. 

Bangladesh has lived this reality before — the fear therefore is not speculative, it is historical. 

A culture that envelops all parties 

It is important to note that this problem is not unique to BNP. Had other major contenders, including the 11-party alliance, formed government under the same political conditions, it is highly likely they too would have been pulled into the same gravitational field of violence, venality, and patronage. 

Bangladesh's political system has repeatedly shown that parties do not merely govern institutions, they are shaped by them.This  does not absolve any actor of responsibility. On the contrary, it underscores the urgency of  ideological reckoning across the political spectrum. 

Unarguably the incoming opposition, particularly those with controversial historical legacies or  regressive positions on women's rights, must confront their own contradictions. Accountability  in parliament requires moral credibility outside it. Clarifying positions on the Liberation War, on  gender equality, and on pluralism is not optional if opposition forces are to act as legitimate  democratic counterweights rather than mirrors of the ruling party. Democracy cannot be  defended by parties that reproduce exclusion, denigrate women, or instrumentalise religion, just as it cannot be defended by parties that normalise repression in the name of stability. 

The tragedy of selective outrage 

Perhaps the most unsettling aspect of the post-election moment has been the silence, even  indifference of many who consider themselves liberal, progressive, or rights oriented. During the  campaign and its aftermath, documented cases of women being assaulted for campaigning, of  opposition supporters being attacked, and of communities being targeted were met with selective  outrage. Violence mattered only when the victims aligned with acceptable politics. When victims  belonged to ideologically disfavored groups, their suffering was minimised, rationalised, or  ignored. This is not merely hypocrisy. It is political dehumanisation. 

Human rights do not apply conditionally. When violence against certain citizens is tolerated  because of their beliefs or affiliations, democracy loses its ethical foundation. Justice that  operates selectively is not justice; it is power masquerading as morality. 

Political culture as the central crisis 

Bangladesh's most persistent democratic failure is cultural rather than electoral. A political  culture that rewards loyalty over competence, domination over dialogue, and vengeance over 

restraint cannot produce democratic governance, regardless of who wins elections. When parties  inherit authoritarian habits instead of dismantling them, revolutions lose their meaning. 

The July–August uprising was costly and traumatic. It was not symbolic and disrupted the lives  of millions. To allow its legacy to be reduced to a mere change in the ruling party would be a  profound betrayal of that sacrifice. 

A question that remains 

The most dangerous illusion in the post-authoritarian period is the belief that time alone will heal  structural rot. If the new government fails to take an unequivocal stance against post-election violence, through accountability, not rhetoric, early warning signs will take root. If opposition parties fail to reform their own ideological and ethical positions, they will forfeit their role as credible watchdogs. And if civil society continues to practice selective silence, it will become complicit in the erosion it once resisted.

Bangladesh cannot afford another violent reckoning. Even the prospect of 'another July' is  unimaginable. Therefore, what must come first is acknowledgment by all political actors that the  inherited culture of dehumanisation, coercion, and selective justice must be abandoned. Without  that collective awakening, we risk discovering too late that authoritarianism was never dismantled, only renamed.

Lamia Mohsin is a young Bangladeshi development professional and researcher working on climate change, governance and public policy.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.