Is Bangladesh’s most vital vote not getting enough attention?

A curious drama is unfolding as Bangladesh approaches a historic double-header on February 12: a parliamentary election and a constitutional referendum. One is hailed as vital for the nation. The other asks citizens to approve or reject the July National Charter, a document proposing over 80 foundational reforms with a “Yes” or “No.” We are so focused on the roar of the electoral battle that we risk missing the constitutional equations that will rewrite the nation’s rulebook for generations to come. 

What exactly is on this coloured ballot? The charter isn’t minor tinkering. A “Yes” vote instructs the next parliament to enact a new political architecture, including reinstating a non-partisan caretaker government for elections, creating a 100-member upper house of parliament, and implementing 30 specific reforms—from prime ministerial term limits to judicial independence—binding on future governments. It’s a generational choice presented in the simplest binary term.

Yet, for a nation of over 12.7 crore registered voters, this monumental decision arrives shrouded in technical complexity and overshadowed by the electoral frenzy. As one young voter recently confessed, the issues still feel distant, the details obscure. How did a vote of such constitutional gravity become the subplot in the story?

The plot twist lies in the role of the stage managers. The interim government, tasked with neutrally overseeing both the polls, has become the most powerful campaigner for a “Yes” outcome in the referendum. It has launched a large-scale, state-wide effort, coordinating across all ministries and even mobilising private banks and NGOs. Its message is unequivocal: vote “Yes” to implement all reforms; vote “No” and gain nothing.

Special Assistant to the Chief Adviser Ali Riaz defends this, arguing that the government emerged from a popular uprising with a mandate for reform and sees “no legal restriction” on its campaigning. He frames the referendum as a safeguard against fascist rule. All advisers have publicly urged people to support reforms by voting “Yes.”

However, this blurs a fundamental democratic line. As constitutional expert Shahdeen Malik has warned, this “clearly illegal and unethical” behaviour constitutes direct government interference. Imagine a football referee not just enforcing rules but sprinting alongside one team, cheering them on. The entity meant to guarantee a fair debate has become its most powerful protagonist, steering public discourse towards a pre-approved answer.

This is where we encounter the architecture of a “foretold consensus.” French philosopher Jacques Rancière argued that politics is fundamentally about the “distribution of the sensible”—what a society decides is visible, sayable, and debatable. Our current moment is a potent example. By declaring the upcoming election the singular, all-important event, our public narrative performs a powerful act of curation. It makes one democratic act hyper-visible and urgent. Simultaneously, it relegates the parallel, deeply contentious constitutional referendum to the shadows. This framing constructs a convenient consensus. It channels all legitimate democratic anxiety into one approved outlet, implicitly suggesting that a credible election alone will resolve the crisis. In doing so, it marginalises the vital dissensus—the necessary disagreement and questioning—about the foundational rules of the game itself.

History offers a cautionary note. Bangladesh’s past referendums live in two distinct memories. In 1977 and 1985, under authoritarian rulers, they produced suspiciously overwhelming “Yes” votes (98.9 percent and 94.5 percent, respectively) to legitimise power. The 1991 referendum was different, a consensus-driven exercise that restored parliamentary democracy. The 2026 referendum occupies a troubling grey zone. It is not the uncontested plebiscite of 1977 and 1985. However, the active steering by the interim government also distinguishes it from the consensus model of 1991. When the state campaigns for a specific result, the process risks becoming less about deliberative choice and more about the administration of a foretold conclusion.

The path forward is not to diminish the election’s importance but to expand our democratic sensibility. A healthy democracy can hold two crucial conversations at once. We must be able to ask, openly and constructively: can a complex charter of over 80 reforms be meaningfully decided by a single binary choice without deeper public engagement and control? Does a government-run campaign for one side strengthen or weaken the long-term legitimacy of the outcome?

As voters prepare to receive two ballots—one white, one coloured—on February 12, the story of Bangladesh’s democratic revival will not be written by a single vote, but by the conversation we choose to have about both. Let us celebrate the return of electoral competition, but let us also turn up the volume on the referendum, pull it from the shadows of foregone conclusions, and subject its monumental proposals to the light of relentless, curious and respectful public debate. Only then can we move beyond a chronicle of foretold consensus and start writing a truly democratic script.

Zakir Kibria is a Bangladeshi writer, policy analyst and entrepreneur based in Kathmandu, Nepal. He can be reached at zk@krishikaaj.com.

Views expressed in this article are the author's own. 

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