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A YEAR has passed since the July upheaval rocked Bangladesh’s political establishment to its core. What started as a wave of student demonstrations against authoritarian rule swiftly grew into a national movement that overthrew a government that many believed to be unchangeable. A political vacuum rarely witnessed in the nation’s history resulted from the abrupt fall of Sheikh Hasina’s government, which was brought on by years of cumulative repression, electoral fraud, extrajudicial killings, enforced disappearances and widespread dissatisfaction. A temporary arrangement, headed by Nobel laureate Dr Muhammad Yunus, filled that void, a choice that initially raised cautious confidence. However, a year later, the prospect of a fresh political era seems mired in ambiguity, inconsistencies and an escalating crisis of legitimacy.

A single party or leader did not plan the revolt. It was the culmination of decades’ worth of complaints about the suppression of free speech, the misuse of the police, the repression of the press, and the corruption of democratic institutions. Civil servants left, students organised, and even members of the ruling elite subtly stopped supporting a system that had grown squishy and unwieldy. The state apparatus disintegrated in real time, with its bureaucratic machinery falling more slowly than its symbolic authority. Instead of interfering, the military let things happen. Virtual house arrest was imposed on the president. The prime minister left. For a brief instant, it appeared as though the people would be at the core of a reconstruction of the republic from below.

The appointment of an interim government was viewed as a necessary compromise. Long praised outside but viewed with ambivalence at home, Dr Yunus was perceived as a somebody who could handle international diplomacy while presenting a technocratic, unbiased front. The government promised national discourse, reforms and ultimately a free and legitimate election. Promises were made, commissions were established and consultations were conducted. However, after a year, there has been little noticeable change.

The interim administration is torn between conflicting demands. Political parties like the BNP and NCP are on one side, calling for either immediate elections or comprehensive structural changes, often advocating for both simultaneously. International partners and civil society players, on the other hand, are advocating for inclusivity, institutional reconstruction and stability. Beneath all of this lies a restless populace that is growing increasingly frustrated yet still hopeful. The sense of uncertainty has been exacerbated by the government’s uncertainty regarding the date of the national election, with February 2026 being the most recent unofficial aim.

The disintegration of the unity that enabled the uprising is a contributing factor. Once a broad-based movement against authoritarianism, it has now split into new misunderstandings and old rivalries. After a few years of isolation, the BNP remains uncertain about its purpose, alternating between advocating for reform and reiterating populist slogans, and occasionally participating in and boycotting. Once regarded as a new voice for reform and youth, the NCP has faced internal dissension and issues with ideological coherence. Student organisations have become disillusioned; some are immobilised by internal strife, while others are driven to opportunistic alliances. After being so outspoken in the weeks after the revolt, civil society has now withdrawn into cautious silence or weary observation.

Then there is the Awami League, which remains an open subject. Although the party lost power, questions remain about its future. Opinion has been divided over discussions regarding the outlawing of the party or keeping it out of the upcoming elections. Proponents of a prohibition point to the need for justice, constitutional manipulation and its authoritarian tendencies. Such exclusion, according to critics, might erode pluralism and further sabotage an already precarious transition. The issue of accountability is another. There is no clear-cut transitional justice procedure in place, save for a few arrests and token actions. There is still no response to the call for a Truth and Reconciliation Commission made by numerous activists and academics.

There has been a slight improvement in law and order. Community tensions, intermittent violence and mob violence persist. The judiciary remains politically influenced and weak. Although police reform has been discussed frequently, it has rarely been implemented. Although the state may not seem as dangerous to the populace, they are still not protected. People are beginning to believe that impunity has changed, not vanished.

The degradation is evident at the institutional level. Bureaucrats influenced by the patronage and control culture of the previous administration continue to administer ministries. Many administrators have slowed governance procedures to a crawl by taking a wait-and-see stance out of fear of responsibility or public scrutiny. Critical issues, including women’s representation, Article 70, electoral restructuring, and the future of caretaker rule, have not been resolved by the National Consensus Commission, which was intended to serve as a forum for inter-party discussion on political and constitutional reform. The rhetoric of reform is meaningless without institutional certainty.

The state of the economy adds even more urgency to the situation. Capital flight, project delays, and a precipitous decline in foreign direct investment were all triggered by last year’s erosion of trust in the government. Businesses remain cautious, even though remittances have stabilised and some foreign partners have resumed operations. Youth, who served as the uprising’s foot soldiers, are increasingly unemployed. Energy shortages, currency fluctuations, and inflation have made life more difficult for regular people. The backbone of the economy, the apparel industry, is facing dwindling orders as global supply chains and trade terms become increasingly unpredictable. It is concerning in this context that the interim administration has not produced a coherent economic blueprint.

The government’s standing abroad is uncertain. Once a staunch supporter of the previous government, India has adopted a cautious stance, not only disapproving of Dhaka’s new attitude but also hesitant about exerting too much pressure. Relationships have been strained due to border conflicts, particularly the pushbacks of Rohingya refugees and Muslims who speak Bangla. Although there are some geopolitical restrictions, China and Pakistan have indicated an intention to expand their collaboration. After applauding Hasina’s downfall, the US and Europe have now started to raise challenging issues regarding the sluggish democracy process and the absence of a definitive election schedule. Although Dr Yunus’s domestic capital is declining, his worldwide reputation has kept diplomatic doors open.

The most significant change amid all of this might be cultural. The nation is no longer as afraid to speak up, organise or oppose as it once was. People are once again conversing. Reporters are back on the scene, albeit cautiously. Despite their disarray, students remain politically active. This is an unquantifiable benefit that needs to be safeguarded. But it is also brittle. This reclaimed area will close once more, possibly more permanently, if the interim term concludes without significant change — if elections are postponed indefinitely or are rigged, if improvements are merely cosmetic.

A silent but telling weariness has taken hold across the nation. People are suspicious of the elites, both new and old, who claim to speak on their behalf; they are wary of speeches and disappointed by empty promises. The excitement of revolution has been replaced with the weariness of uncertainty. The same kids now question whether anything will change after risking their lives for a brighter future. Over dinner tables, the same families who once marched with hope in the streets now express scepticism. The same thinkers who created manifestos are today reluctant to adopt a stance. It is by calm disappointment, not a crackdown, that revolutions stall.

Nevertheless, the promise of July remains intact despite everything. It endures in the pride of those who spoke up when doing so was risky, in the memory of defiance, and the bravery of young organisers. It thrives on the momentary rediscovery of camaraderie and the group’s rejection of fear. However, for that pledge to be meaningful, it needs to be accompanied by structural, not merely symbolic, action. The interim administration needs to understand that time is not on its side. Doubt is bred by delay. Being ambiguous encourages opportunism. If reforms are to be more than catchphrases, they need to be bold, visible and verifiable.

Withdrawal, not chaos, is the threat now. The initial months of exhilaration have given way to scepticism. Many people today find the phrases that once inspired millions of people to be meaningless. By definition, transitional periods are brief. They require foresight, bravery, and most importantly, the capacity to turn momentum into institutions. That is a passing chance.

A year after the uprising, Bangladesh is on the brink of a transition rather than at its conclusion. The new system has not yet taken shape, but the old one has been replaced. Though uncared for, the dreams that drove people to the streets are still alive. Just governance, electoral credibility and democratic resilience are all still in the early stages of reconstruction. Not merely the government will be remembered for its failure if those in charge now miss the mark, the noise of yet another lost opportunity will drown out the hope of a generation.

Zillur Rahman is a journalist and the host of the current affairs talk show ‘Tritiyo Matra.’ He also serves as the president of the Centre for Governance Studies

This article was originally published on The Newage
Views in this article are author’s own and do not necessarily reflect CGS policy.