At the defining moment in Bangladesh's democratic evolution, neutrality is not a virtue but an abdication of responsibility. The people of Bangladesh have now reached this moment. In the run-up to the historic referendum shaped by the crucible of the July uprising, a controversy has been deliberately introduced for the people of Bangladesh to consider: the ability of government officials to campaign for a ‘Yes’ vote. The answer, firmly rooted in constitutional law, historical practice, and democracy's moral principles, is clear and uncompromising. They can. And, in this hour of decision, they must. To remain silent now would not be neutrality; it would be an abdication of democracy.

It was in this spirit that Dr. Ali Riaz, Special Assistant to the Chief Adviser and chief coordinator of the referendum campaign, spoke recently in Sylhet. With clarity, conviction, and moral gravity, he cut through misinformation and fear-driven narratives. His remarks did more than settle a legal question; they placed the referendum squarely within Bangladesh’s long and unfinished struggle to restrain power, restore accountability, and honor the sacrifices that made democratic renewal possible.

The Legal Question: What the Law Allows and What It Does Not Forbid
At the heart of all this debate is a fundamental legal reality. The Constitution of Bangladesh, the Representation of the People Order (RPO), the July National Charter Implementation Order 2025, or indeed the ordinance relating to the referendum, contain no provision that excludes employees of the Republic from supporting a referendum result. In any constitutional democracy, any ban has to be an express one. Absence of any express ban is not a ban, and that is permission to proceed. Professor Riaz asked critics to produce an example of any single authoritative legal clause that prohibits public officials from supporting change through a referendum. There is no such clause. It is politics to conjure up “legal barriers” and nothing more.


From July’s Blood to January’s Ballot: The Moral Continuum
This referendum should not be seen in isolation from the human toll that preceded it. The July uprising was not theater; it was a break defined by death, disappearance, and unclaimed corpses. There are still parents who grieve their dead children who fought to be seen, heard, and have their basic rights met. Under this context, the arguments that surround the “immorality” of the advocacy of the state seem quite hollow. Professor Riaz’s rejoinder was devastatingly simple: What morality denies the blood of young people and their sacrifice? What morality demands silence in the face of reform? In a democratic tradition, however, neutrality in the face of injustice is not a virtue; it is abdication.


Legitimacy of the Interim Government: Not Caretaker Convenience, but an Uprising Mandate
Attempts to subvert the democratic exercise often center on a misleading term that describes the existing government as merely a ‘caretaker government.’ However, this argument is immediately undermined when one considers that, according to Dr. Ali Riaz, the basis of the legitimacy of this interim government does not rest on either procedural convenience or elite negotiation. Rather, its basis lies in the July uprising that repossessed sovereignty from an increasingly authoritarian state.
The transfer of power in July was far from ordinary. It represented a civic upheaval of unprecedented proportions, driven by decades of repression, institutional decay, and the continuous undermining of accountability in government. This type of transfer of power in democratic theory or in the annals of comparative political science is said to enjoy a form of legitimacy: transformative legitimacy based on popular support or consent. This is exactly the foundation upon which the interim government rests. To dismiss this as a caretaker government is to ignore the will of millions of people who called for change at immense personal cost.


No less relevant is the clarity and transparency of the government’s mandate. It is not vague or self-serving. The government mandate is quite explicitly stated as having three dimensions: reform, justice, and elections. Each has its boundaries. There are no election committees within the executive branch. There are no judges in the executive branch. The government is there to ensure the conditions are created for the free operation of these institutions: legal, administrative, and political.


Under this understanding of government, reform is not seen as overreach but as the administration’s central duty. The concentration of executive power over several years weakened oversight institutions and undermined constitutional protections. If reform is not implemented, elections become empty formalities rather than true expressions of democratic will. Justice is formal but not effective. Hence, reform is not seen as a diversion from democracy but as its prerequisite.


From this perspective, the interim government's advocacy for the referendum cannot be understood as partisan activism or institutional illegality. Rather, it is the natural extension of the mandate derived from the uprising to transform the population's resistance into lasting democratic guarantees. To expect such a government to remain silent in the face of such decisions about the founding of the new democracy is not to defend democracy. It is to misunderstand the process by which democracy is actually created.


Global Democratic Practice: Is Bangladesh Really An Outlier?
Additionally, international experiences also negate the argument of forced silence. Between 1972 and 2024, at least 48 worldwide referenda were held. In all these cases, countries campaigned openly for a "Yes" vote on issues such as peace agreements, constitutional changes, and institutional reform. From Ireland to South Africa, state advocacy has been seen as leadership, not interference. Bangladesh is not introducing a new democratic tradition; it’s simply adopting a global norm.


Do Not Patronize the People
Perhaps the most disconcerting opposition to the referendum has been that the issues put to the referendum are beyond the comprehension of the common citizen. However, Professor Riaz did not dismiss this opposition to the referendum on emotional grounds, but on historical ones. When a people fought a Liberation War in 1971, had risen in mass uprisings in 1969, and again in 2024, it does not make sense that the same people would not be capable of comprehending matters of right and government. This type of reasoning does not defend democracy; it insults it. Democracy is based upon trust in collective judgment, not fear of it.

 

Why Reform Is Necessary--Lessons from Concentrated Power
The necessity of the referendum becomes clearer when we consider Bangladesh’s recent constitutional history. A constitutional reform committee, after holding 25 meetings, recommended that the Caretaker Government System should continue, but in an amended form. It was abolished just after one meeting with the Prime Minister.
That experience was merely a manifestation of a larger underlying problem related to too much power vested in the executive. Even though the functions of appointing members of the election commission, the public service commission, and the judiciary were vested in the President, these functions were dictated by the Prime Minister. The July charter and the referendum aim to break this cycle by ending personal dominance in favor of institutional balance.


When the State Has Said “Yes” Before: A Historical Chronology
When we examine the situation from a historical perspective, the advocacy by the state for a "Yes" vote is not surprising in the Bangladeshi context, but rather the

  • 1972-1975: After independence, officials openly encouraged endorsement as a continuation of the liberation war. Neutrality was neither anticipated nor desired. The very idea of a republic was still under construction.
  • 1977: A military regime held a referendum to retroactively legitimize its rule. The state machinery was actively engaged in promoting a "Yes" vote demonstrating that even authoritarian regimes recognize the symbolic importance of public consent.
  • 1985: Another military-led referendum was held, and again the result was the same, administrative mobilization in favor of the "Yes," on the grounds of national stability.
    1991-2008: In the period of parliamentary democracy, the government used official avenues for pressing the need for constitutional and electoral reform, even if these efforts were not termed referendums per se.
  • 2011: The most striking comparison: constitutional change imposed without a referendum at all, or in other words, without public consent at all.
    What sets 2026 apart is not that a state is speaking, but why. It is a ‘Yes’ campaign for the first time based upon a mass uprising, and instead of seeking legitimacy for rulers, it seeks to limit power.

 

Breaking the Cycle of Authoritarian Return
And it was given added point and precision in the words of many speakers, all of whom arrived at a newly earned historical understanding that authoritarianism doesn’t simply re-emerge—authoritarianism re-emerges through systems that have not been changed or reformed. Regimes crumble, rulers are overthrown, systems formally disintegrate—but authoritarianism has a way of re-emerging when the gateways through which it was exercised in the first place remain formally intact but politically unguarded.

Bangladesh’s own recent history is a sorry and painful reminder. The mass uprising of 2024 has not been a spontaneous act of public fury. It is the culmination of a long period of over-centralization of power, the weakening of constitutional limits, the steady undermining of independent institutions, the stifling of dissent, and the increasing normalization of coercion as a legitimate instrument of governance. As accountability has diminished, impunity has increased. Parents have lost their children; many have continued to live with the grief of losing their loved ones, not in a war zone or a catastrophe, but on the streets of a republic that has failed to protect its own citizens. This is not a tragedy of a few bad eggs; this is a tragedy of cause and effect.
It is in this context that the warnings offered by the speakers transcend partisan rhetoric or fleeting political positioning. Rather, they constitute a structural analysis of how authoritarianism perpetuates itself. Thus, if loopholes in constitutions remain unaddressed, if executive powers continue unchecked, if key organs of the state remain in the grip of those in power, and if watchdog agencies become mere figureheads, then the fall of any particular regime does not signal the end of authoritarianism; rather, it signals the end of that particular avatar of authoritarianism, paving the way for the next incarnation. Thus, authoritarianism need not evolve; it simply returns in another guise, often packaged in the rhetoric of stability, development, or nationalism.

This is the key reason why the referendum cannot be seen as a process in itself for judging past injustices, laying blame, or symbolically closing the door on a period in the nation’s history. No, it is not to be seen as such. It is to be seen as a mechanism to prevent future abuse by some individual, party, or clique. It is to be seen as a mechanism to prevent abuse by some future governments regardless of how popular it may be in the polls or how resoundingly it may have captured the electoral vote from again putting itself above the people. In a deeper sense, the referendum is an act of collective self-preservation. It asks the citizens of the current generation to make the experience of suffering, loss, and resistance a source of long-term protection against the repetition of the same cycle of repression and revolt. Delay is gambling with memory. Action is a way of honoring memory: a way of assuring that the sacrifices made are not repeated.


Unfinished Business of 1971 and a Responsibility to the Future
Equality, dignity, and justice Insaf were the promises of the Declaration of Independence. More than a century later, these promises remain incomplete. The referendum presents a unique opportunity to realign our state with our founding moral principles. As stated by leaders across Sylhet, from civil leaders to spiritual leaders, voting ‘Yes’ is not about political affiliation. Voting ‘Yes’ is about legacy. Voting ‘Yes’ is about choosing a future that protects Bangladeshi people, rather than putting them at greater danger. Democracy isn’t carried forward through enforced silence. Democracy is carried forward through lawful, honest speech given in memory of sacrifice. There are no legal restraints on that kind of speech. The only restraint now is fear and history has already told us what that leads to.

Conclusion: Choosing Voice Over Silence, Reform Over Relapse
Bangladesh is now faced with a choice beyond any single ballot box. This is not merely a vote on procedure, but a vote on morality and history itself. Does Bangladesh choose to translate the sacrifices of July into lasting institutions, or will it succumb to another round of repression, regret, and renewal postponed? At such moments, democracy doesn't need spectators; it needs participants. Citizens who recall their responsibilities, officials who voice their opinions, and institutions that take action rather than taking counsel – these are what democracy needs today. There is no legal impediment to campaigning for a “Yes” vote. There is no ethical inconsistency in standing for reform. There is no reason why the price for our hesitation should be paid by future generations the price for our overreaching  that we might restrain power before it overreaches once more.

The referendum represents a rare conjunction of law, legitimacy, and historical memory: an invitation to finish the unfinished revolution of Scottish independence of fear replaced by accountability, power concentrated by power dispersed, episodic protest replaced by permanent reform. History has demonstrated the consequences of failing to take such moments: it has also revealed the consequences of succeeding in them.

To vote ‘Yes’, is to choose institutions over individuals, justice over expediency, and the future over the comfort of the past. It is to choose the idea that the blood spilled in July has not been shed in vain. It is to choose the idea that Bangladesh has the courage to transform sacrifice into structure and uprising into a republic worthy of its people.
The moment is now. The choice is clear. Silence has had its turn; now is the time to speak, to act, and to vote “Yes.”