The government has moved considerably away from the spirit of reform

After the mass uprising, the interim government assumed office with three principal priorities: justice, state reform, and elections. Of these, state reform was arguably the most significant because it represented a historic opportunity for long-term structural change. As the July movement evolved into a mass uprising, people's foremost aspiration was to establish a state and system of governance that would be genuinely accountable to its citizens.

The interim government's initial initiatives should certainly be regarded as positive. It first established six reform commissions and later added five more. This was a well-considered undertaking. That said, questions arose from the outset, and the composition of the commissions was itself a matter of debate. They did not adequately represent different professions, social groups, or segments of society. Women's representation was extremely limited, while indigenous peoples and religious minorities were also scarcely represented.

The first six commissions dealt directly with the fundamental pillars of state reform. Five additional commissions were established later, but questions remained over why certain sectors were included while others were left out. Education, for example, was one of the principal drivers of the July movement, yet no commission was formed to address education reform. Similarly, commerce and business were sectors that had been severely damaged under authoritarian rule and are essential to the functioning of the state, but these received little attention.

Even so, I believe this initiative should be viewed positively as a comprehensive starting point for state reform. Overall, the commissions performed their work well. Each report contains extensive analysis and valuable recommendations. Stakeholder consultations were conducted, and surveys were carried out across different sectors. Although there was some debate over how participatory the process truly was, it nevertheless established a strong policy and documentary foundation for future state reform.

While the commissions were preparing their reports, the interim government asked us to divide our recommendations into two categories. The first comprised recommendations that could be implemented during the interim government's tenure through executive decisions or administrative measures. The second included those that would require legislative amendments, parliamentary approval, or broader political consensus.

All the commissions structured their recommendations accordingly. However, only a small fraction of the recommendations that the interim government could have implemented on its own were actually carried out. Some steps were taken, but they were extremely limited and largely symbolic, amounting to little more than tokenism. In other words, the government selectively adopted certain recommendations while ignoring those that would have altered existing power structures.

Over time, it became increasingly clear that anti-reform forces had become active. As a result, even measures that could have been implemented immediately were put on hold. Meanwhile, issues requiring political consensus were referred to the National Consensus Commission for deliberation. After prolonged discussions and considerable political wrangling, the July Charter was eventually adopted.

The interim government promulgated 133 ordinances, many of which were significant. However, one thing became abundantly clear to me: although this was the same government that had established the reform commissions, when it came to drafting the ordinances it did not properly use the commissions' reports as the basis for legislation. Instead, it largely followed Bangladesh's traditional lawmaking practices. Consequently, despite containing some positive provisions, most of the ordinances ultimately strengthened the powers of the executive branch. A valuable opportunity to establish effective checks and balances over the bureaucracy was largely lost because influential sections of the bureaucracy determined which reforms would be pursued and which would not.

As a result, much of the reform that did take place was largely cosmetic. In some cases, problems such as disparities between different civil service cadres were not resolved but instead became even more deeply entrenched within the machinery of government. There were, of course, some exceptions. The ordinance relating to the National Human Rights Commission, for example, and several initiatives concerning the judiciary were comparatively well designed.

Overall, I would say that a strong policy foundation for state reform was established. The commissions' reports, together with the deliberations of the National Consensus Commission, produced a number of important documents. But the substantive reforms that should have been built upon that foundation never materialised. The opportunity was immense, yet the interim government failed to translate that potential into meaningful reality.

It is deeply disappointing. The very government that had established the ACC Reform Commission and accepted our report later drafted the ACC Ordinance without giving due consideration to our recommendations. In fact, not only was the commission excluded from the drafting process, but there also appeared to be a deliberate effort to keep us in the dark.

The lesson I drew from this experience is that, in Bangladesh, the decisions made by the advisory council or the cabinet often reflect the preferences of influential sections of the bureaucracy more than the independent judgment of the decision-makers themselves. If public expectations are reflected at all, it is often by chance rather than by design.

The people of Bangladesh wanted change. They wanted state reform. But while the aspiration for reform is critically important, it is equally important to identify the forces that resist reform. Any attempt at change must begin with an understanding of where resistance is likely to come from. There also needs to be a strategy for identifying and confronting those forces. Had the interim government truly treated state reform as its highest priority and taken a firmer stance against anti-reform interests, we could have made much greater progress.

This is an extremely important issue. Those who lead or drive the process of state reform must themselves be beyond reproach. If they face allegations of incompetence, conflicts of interest, or misconduct, the moral foundation of the reform process is inevitably weakened. In such circumstances, it becomes difficult to sustain public confidence.

In his address to the nation, the Chief Adviser of the interim government announced that he, the members of his Advisory Council, and senior government officials would all publicly disclose their asset declarations. It was not merely a verbal commitment. A formal government notification was subsequently issued, and a standard format for submitting asset declarations was prepared. But after that, there was no meaningful follow-up. Shortly before leaving office, a limited amount of information was released, but it fell well short of the original commitment and the standards that had been promised. In other words, the pledge made to the nation was never genuinely fulfilled. In my view, this was one of the principal factors that undermined the government's moral credibility.

The problem was compounded by conflicts of interest. Questions were raised about conflicts of interest in a number of government decisions, including appointments to various institutions, several important administrative decisions, and even certain areas of public procurement. These may not always qualify as corruption in the conventional legal sense, but from the standpoint of good governance they constitute a form of corruption.

Let me first clarify one point. I was not fully satisfied with the ACC Ordinance enacted during the interim government's tenure. It did not fully reflect the recommendations of our reform commission. The ordinance had a number of shortcomings and required further improvement. Nevertheless, it represented an important step forward and could have served as the foundation for more meaningful reforms in the future.

What has disappointed me most, however, is what happened afterward. First, following the resignation of the ACC commissioners, the commission was left effectively leaderless for more than four months. In my view, this was a deliberate decision by the government. There may well have been legitimate criticisms of the commissioners who resigned. I am not suggesting they were ideal commissioners. But if there are concerns about an institution's leadership, the appropriate response is to replace the leadership, not to render the entire institution ineffective. I would compare it to cutting off one's head to cure a headache.

Second, the government has yet to convert the ACC Ordinance into law. This is despite the fact that BNP explicitly pledged such reforms in both its 31-point reform agenda and its election manifesto. The government has said that various ordinances will be reviewed and improved. If that is genuinely the intention, why was that process not initiated for the ACC from the outset? Why, after all this time, is there still no clear position? The message this sends is far from encouraging. It suggests that the government's commitment to building an effective and independent anti-corruption regime is, in reality, quite limited.

Based on what I have observed, I do not believe the government wants an Anti-Corruption Commission that is genuinely independent, effective, and capable of restoring the public's lost confidence. The government's broader conduct reinforces that impression. Since 5 August 2024, there have been widespread allegations across the country of land grabbing, extortion, and various other irregularities. Members of the ruling party, its allies, and leaders and activists of other political parties have all been implicated in these allegations. Yet the current government's response has not appeared particularly firm.

A similar pattern has emerged with regard to the National Human Rights Commission. The same is true not only for the ACC and the Human Rights Commission but also for the ordinances concerning the Supreme Court Secretariat and the appointment of judges. The fundamental purpose of these ordinances was to make the state more accountable to its citizens.

I do not believe the government genuinely wants a system in which the executive branch is subject to effective accountability. I have serious doubts about its commitment to establishing accountable governance. And if that is indeed the reality, then it must be said that the government has moved considerably away from the spirit of reform that emerged in the aftermath of the July movement.

To be honest, I was not particularly surprised. In fact, I had felt from the outset that this consensus would not be long-lasting. During the deliberations of the National Consensus Commission, it was already evident that the political parties differed on many fundamental issues. Nearly every major reform proposal was accompanied by a note of dissent or reservations from one party or another. In other words, the consensus was limited and conditional from the very beginning. It was therefore entirely foreseeable that these differences would resurface after the election.

One clear example is the constitutional reform process. A key recommendation was that the newly elected parliament would serve not only as the legislative body but also as a Constitutional Reform Assembly, thereby ensuring broad political participation in the process of constitutional reform. However, once the election was over and the new government took office, the ruling party retreated from that position. In my view, that marked the beginning of the current impasse.

Even if a Constitutional Reform Assembly had been established, it would have been extremely difficult to adopt any decision that ran counter to the wishes of the ruling party, given that the BNP holds more than a two-thirds majority in parliament. For that reason, I believe that the implementation of the July Charter, and constitutional reform more broadly,no longer depends on the ideals of the July movement or the commitments contained in the Charter itself. It now depends entirely on the political will of the ruling party.

Five months is not a long period for any government. Even so, certain trends can already be discerned. Our assessment is that the highest levels of government, particularly the Prime Minister, have attempted to introduce some positive initiatives. Not all of these will necessarily produce significant or lasting change, but they have at least sent some encouraging signals.

However, when we examine the government's overall approach to governing, we do not see the same positive trend. A review of the ordinances that have recently been converted into Acts reveals two clear patterns. First, laws that expand the powers of the executive branch have been approved swiftly and with little or no substantive amendment. By contrast, many ordinances whose primary purpose was to strengthen good governance, accountability, and independent institutions have been put on hold, delayed under the guise of further review, or effectively abandoned altogether.

For that reason, I believe the government currently faces two major risks. The first stems from the bureaucracy, and the second from the exercise of political power. My concern is that unless the government acts now to effectively restrain these two forces, bureaucratic resistance on the one hand and the misuse of political power on the other, it could create a situation that will become far more difficult to bring under control in the future.

Thank you.