A failure to communicate?
It is still not too late to change course, and not only does the Interim Government's legacy but also the sustainability of good governance post-elections depend on it
"What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate," the prison warden famously says to the protagonist in the 1967 anti-establishment cult classic prison drama, Cool Hand Luke.
A series of confusing and contradictory statements by the Interim Government on several important policy and political matters makes one think of that line. And the failure to communicate is at best a wasted opportunity by Professor Yunus in establishing transparency in our governance culture, if not a direct contributor to a potentially worsening political climate.
Let’s start with the brouhaha over the Chittagong port. Port management in Bangladesh is a mess. International companies like DP World can improve performance significantly, with serious flow on economic benefits. These are sensible propositions, leading to a good policy.
But how have these facts been communicated? The Chief Advisor and his communication team speak in hyperbole of Singapore fantasy redolent of the language used by the Hasina regime to sell their transit to India. And when questioned, they fall back on the language of having a mandate to do ‘everything’ and their opponents must be ‘resisted’.
Or let’s consider the kerfuffle about the so-called corridor to Myanmar. The Chief Advisor made a sentimental speech, in the presence of the United Nations Secretary General, to the Rohingya refugees back during Ramadan that Inshallah they would be observing the next Ramadan back in their homeland.
This was widely reported as yet another example of the so-called Yunus Magic whereby the Professor’s unparalleled personal connections open many doors for Bangladesh. Then came the claim, disavowing that earlier claim, and obfuscation of exactly what the Yunus administration has been trying to pursue in Myanmar.
The Myanmar government has no control over the region bordering Bangladesh. The ethnic insurgent group Arakan Army that controls the area had not historically been friendly to Rohingya. There is no prospect of the refugees returning any time soon in a region facing a humanitarian crisis. These are all facts. Are Professor Yunus and his advisors like Khalilur Rahman trying to pursue some kind of accommodation with the Arakan Army to improve the ground conditions? Who knows?
Is this something the Interim Government should be doing? Perhaps, if they believe a failure to act could lead to significantly worsening situation down the track. If so, did they try to communicate this rationale to the political parties who may come to power after the current interregnum has ended?
From Sheikh Mujibur Rahman going to the OIC Conference in Lahore in 1974 to Sheikh Hasina’s manifold concessions to India over the years, our successive governments have never bothered to take the broader political class into confidence on matters of national security. Why couldn’t Professor Yunus break that tradition by calling a closed-door briefing session with political parties and other stakeholders to explain the situation and his response?
Moving on to more directly political matters -- after repeatedly saying the future of the Awami League is something to be decided through the political process, the Interim Government formally gazetted in May the ban on the party’s activities that had been announced in September 2024.
What were the circumstances that led to it? A social media firestorm after the news broke that former president Abdul Hamid had been allowed to leave for Bangkok. NCP leader Hasnat Abdullah declared a march to Jamuna, their Islamist allies congregated in Shahbag, the Home Advisor said he would uncover the Awami conspiracy, and here we are.
Except, of course, now we know that Mr Hamid went to Thailand for cancer treatment, that there was no reason to stop him from doing so, that he has returned to Bangladesh, and there is no warrant to arrest him -- that is, there doesn’t seem to be any conspiracy to uncover, and the government’s acquiescence to the mob in Shahbag was, at best, a gross failure to communicate.
And then we come to the issue where the Interim Government’s communication failure could have the direst of consequences for our democratic transition -- that of election timing. Professor Yunus had said in August 2024 that the timing of the election would be one for the politicians to decide. Then the reform commissions were announced in October, with a process for reform in 2025 leading eventually to election. By winter, the Chief Advisor’s rhetoric had changed to one of a December 2025 to June 2026 timeframe, with minor reforms leading to an earlier date and major reforms meaning the latter time.
However, by the summer of 2025, it had become blatantly clear that there was nothing in the reform package that justified delaying the election even to December. Political parties had stated their positions on both institutional reforms that could be implemented through executive ordinances and regulations as well constitutional ones that require an elected body. As it became increasingly difficult to maintain the façade around minimum/maximum reform package and Dec-June window, the Chief Advisor announced that the election will be in the first half of April 2026.
Why April? Why not February? Why after Ramadan, and not before? Why during the summer heat, and not cooler spring months? Why during the exam season and not several weeks earlier?
A theory going around the chattering classes it that an April date will allow the people whose registered birthday is January 1, 2008 to vote. If this is the case, should the Chief Advisor not be transparent and say so directly?
Another theory being propagated is that April will give the courts more time to deliver some verdicts against the fallen Hasina regime. One should shudder in horror if this is the case -- haven’t we seen what kind of monstrosity eventuates when judicial process and political calculations collude?
Professor Yunus is a gifted storyteller. Why is it then that the government he leads is repeatedly, dangerously, failing to communicate?
It is not too late. The Chief Advisor should establish a culture of transparency when it comes to matters of national security by convening a closed-door meeting to communicate his policies on Myanmar.
He can come clean and explain his rationale for an April election date, or even better, hold an election in February because objectively it will be better. The alternative of further failures to communicate will only lead to something no Bangladeshi will like.
Further reading
হাসিনার পতনে গ্রামেগঞ্জে প্রভাব ও আওয়ামী কর্মীদের ভাবনা কী
খান মো. রবিউল আলম, 11 April 2025
The risks of banning Awami League activities
David Bergman, 15 May 2025
Behind the “revolutionary” rhetoric lies a quiet refusal of democracy
Shamaruh Mirza, 17 May 2025
# Why Bangladesh's Revolution Will Fail: The Predictable Fate of Vague Social Movements
Social media movements like the recent revolution in Bangladesh will never achieve meaningful change. The fundamental problem lies in their reliance on vacuous rhetoric rather than concrete policy frameworks.
Consider their slogan arsenal: "anti-discrimination," "reform," and perhaps the most meaningless phrase in the English language, "good governance." These terms sound impressive but offer no substantive direction. They represent the kind of vapid messaging that appeals to social media algorithms but crumbles under the weight of actual governance.
The timeline for meaningful reform tells a sobering story. Even relatively minor changes like Australia's introduction of GST required 15-20 years from initial concept to implementation. Yet activist types somehow believe they can spontaneously convene, draft constitutional reforms, and secure agreement from both citizens and political parties. The notion is absurd on its face.
Muhammad Yunus emerges as a particularly poor politician, arguably worse than even Sheikh Mujib. At least Mujib eventually stopped indulging in self-congratulation long enough to formulate his six-point plan. Yunus and his interim government have held power for nearly a year without producing anything resembling a coherent policy framework—no equivalent to those six points that might serve as a foundation for genuine reform.
This reflects the broader character of Bangladesh's activist class: intellectually bankrupt individuals more invested in theatrical gestures than substantive debate. When forced to articulate specific positions, they retreat into vague platitudes about anti-corruption—a vibes-based stance that substitutes for actual policy thinking.
More troubling is their importation of Western multiculturalism into a context where it makes no sense. Bangladesh was founded as an ethnostate and remains more homogeneous than Japan. What exactly are they attempting to achieve with this borrowed framework?
The best-case scenario sees them artificially dividing Bengalis along religious lines, creating artificial cultural categories. The government will establish special committees populated by religious elites who will then harass the population in the name of protecting religious sensibilities. As the saying goes, there are no collective rights—only expanded government powers disguised as rights protection.
The worst-case scenario involves future Islamic-oriented governments exploiting multiculturalism as a pretext for importing non-Bengali Muslims into the country, fundamentally altering Bangladesh's demographic composition.
The current revolution will amount to nothing precisely because it lacks the intellectual rigor and policy specificity that genuine reform requires. What Bangladeshi elites should be doing now is developing a serious constitutional reform proposal—building it, debating it, and publicizing it extensively. They should expect implementation no earlier than the 2040s, when the current system's inherent tendency toward self-destruction triggers the next inevitable crisis.
Only then, with a mature policy framework ready for deployment, might Bangladesh achieve the substantive change that social media slogans can never deliver.