In the 2026 general election, Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami secured a substantial victory. A party that had never won more than 17 seats in any previous parliamentary election captured 77 seats this time in alliance, securing nearly 31 per cent of the total vote. Long regarded as politically ostracised in Bangladesh due to its association with the atrocities of 1971, the party has, through this electoral performance, achieved what many would describe as political rehabilitation.
That, however, is only one side of the coin. The other side tells a different story.
In the final stages of the campaign, Jamaat’s leadership appeared so confident that they began suggesting they would form the next government. A number of commentators, who had consistently defended the party, particularly on television talk shows and YouTube, amplified those claims with considerable conviction. Listening to them, one could not help but wonder: would we so readily forget the inferno of 1971?
In the end, that did not happen. One plausible reason may lie with Bangladesh’s women voters.
There is a reason to suggest this. In both rhetoric and manifesto, Jamaat repeatedly attempted to project itself as the sole guarantor of women’s honour and safety. The party’s ameer, Shafiqur Rahman, declared at a rally in Barishal that he was prepared to sacrifice his life to ensure the security of the country’s “mothers and sisters”. Yet he also remarked that however accomplished women might become in education and qualifications, they could never surpass men; they must always walk behind them.
The notion of men as women’s protectors is hardly new; it is embedded in centuries of patriarchal tradition. But women have not merely stepped beyond those confines, they have, in many contexts, become protectors and leaders in their own right. Across the world, women have served as prime ministers, chief justices, and even commanders of armed forces.
Rather than promising to “sacrifice life for women’s dignity”, Bangladesh’s male-dominated political leadership might better serve the nation by recognising women’s rightful status as equal citizens. If it does, the country may yet advance a few steps further.
What the Jamaat leadership appears not to have grasped is that women are not simply “mothers and sisters”. They are colleagues, wives, and partners. They do not seek protection alone; they seek equality and respect.
The party’s patriarchal disposition was further reflected in its proposal to reduce women’s working hours to five per day, ostensibly to ease domestic responsibilities and child-rearing. Though presented as a benevolent measure, many working women immediately recognised it as a potential attempt to confine them to the home.
Consider one example. A domestic worker known to a relative of mine in Dhaka requested two days’ leave before polling to travel to her village. She insisted she must vote. Her husband is a rickshaw puller; her daughter works in a garment factory.
Explaining her urgency, she said that if the balance scales, the electoral symbol of Jamaat, came to power, “women would no longer be allowed to work outside the home”. This apprehension was not hers alone. It is not implausible that many working women opted for the sheaf of paddy or other symbols instead.
Such one-off incidents alone cannot prove that women’s votes determined Jamaat’s defeat. Yet demographic and electoral patterns suggest the possibility. Women comprise roughly half of Bangladesh’s population and therefore close to half the electorate. Media coverage and visual evidence from polling stations indicate that female turnout was proportionate and, in many areas, notably robust.
Numerous women reported that in previous elections they had either been unable to vote or found that their ballots had already been cast. This time, with a credible opportunity available, many arrived at polling stations accompanied by friends or children. It was an assertion of political “autonomy”.
Over recent decades, women’s participation in the workforce has expanded significantly. According to the International Labour Organization, women now constitute approximately 44 per cent of the labour force. The garment sector, the backbone of Bangladesh’s economy outside remittances, is overwhelmingly dependent on female workers. In many households, women are principal earners and, consequently, decision-makers.
They are fully capable of discerning their own interests. As women’s presence in formal employment has grown, so too has their scepticism towards entrenched patriarchal norms.
The distinguished Bangladeshi scholar Naila Kabeer of the London School of Economics has written extensively on this transformation. In Reversed Realities: Gender Hierarchies in Development Thought, she argues that access to waged employment can fundamentally reshape women’s capacity to make strategic life choices, empowering them to challenge patriarchal constraints.
Naila Kabeer’s broader conclusion is that economic agency fosters political confidence. A woman who earns is more likely to exercise independent judgement in matters such as voting. It is plausible that this dynamic influenced many working women to reject Jamaat’s platform.
While proposals such as reducing women’s working hours may appear sympathetic on the surface, they may equally be interpreted as attempts to limit women’s public engagement. Such concerns undoubtedly resonated among female voters.
Regardless of what male want, the reality is that women’s social standing in Bangladesh continues to evolve despite persistent barriers. Women are now central stakeholders in national politics, a fact increasingly acknowledged even in Muslim-majority societies. In Turkey, for example, the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) boasts one of the largest female memberships globally and has integrated women into decision-making at national and local levels.
Female representation in Turkey’s parliament has risen from 2.4 per cent in 1995 to around 20 per cent today. Indonesia presents a similar picture: women now account for roughly 21 per cent of legislators, and nearly 30 per cent of MPs from the Islamist Prosperous Justice Party (PKS) are women.
Such changes have not emerged from chivalric pledges to defend women’s honour, but from recognition of their legitimate political role.
Rather than promising to “sacrifice life for women’s dignity”, Bangladesh’s male-dominated political leadership might better serve the nation by recognising women’s rightful status as equal citizens. If it does, the country may yet advance a few steps further.
* Hasan Ferdous is an essayist and columnist.
* The views expressed are his own.