What are the risks of banning the Awami League?

The anti-terrorism ordinance, issued by the interim government to prohibit the activities of the Awami League, has been transformed into a permanent law. Meanwhile, Daily Prothom Alo reported on 3 April that 16 of the 133 ordinances issued by the interim government may soon become ineffective. Among these are crucial issues like the appointment of judges, prevention of disappearances, the expansion of the Human Rights Commission's powers, and enhancing the Anti-Corruption Commission's authority.

The current question is whether the BNP will prioritise banning a political rival or these essential reforms that strengthen the state.

To understand this issue simply, one should consider international rules. The Venice Commission under the Council of Europe provided guidelines in 2000 (Guidelines on Prohibition and Dissolution of Political Parties and Analogous Measures). It states that banning a political party should not be done lightly; it is permissible only under exceptional circumstances, such as when a party supports violence or takes violent measures to disrupt democratic systems. Mere political disagreement is not a valid reason for banning a party.

In this context, for Bangladesh's Awami League, individuals who commit crimes should be tried personally rather than holding the entire party accountable.

According to international guidelines, banning a party should be a last resort—considered under ''utmost restraint.'' Otherwise, it could amount to ''collective punishment,'' making politics biased and vindictive. Thus, the Venice Commission and the Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe emphasise the necessity of maintaining ''proportionality,'' ''necessity,'' and ''judicial scrutiny.''

Looking at international examples clarifies the issue further. The outcomes of banning parties do not remain the same across countries, but in almost every case, it generates significant risks. A European Parliament briefing (European Parliament Briefing on Political Party Bans, August 2025) suggests viewing party bans as a last resort to save democracy, not as a standard political competition tool. Analysing international experience on a country-specific basis makes this even clearer.

Firstly, consider Germany. While there is the concept of ''militant democracy'' (defensive democracy), in practice, banning a party is quite difficult. The courts must prove that a party is actively working to destroy democratic systems. Mere dislike, hatred, or past accusations are insufficient. The Venice Commission's guidelines (Guidelines on Legislation on Political Parties, 2000) echo this: a party cannot be banned without solid evidence and an independent court's decision.

Spain's experience presents a different picture. Researcher Andreu Arenas published a study titled "Party Bans and Political Violence: Evidence from Batasuna" in 2021 regarding the ban on the Basque regional party ''Batasuna.'' He showed that banning a party might sometimes work as a deterrent but can also cause backlash. However, this example is not directly applicable, as it involved armed organisations like ETA (Euskadi Ta Askatasuna). Therefore, it is not suitable for general political application.

Egypt's experience offers a more substantial caution. Although there were opportunities for democracy after 2011, it failed, and the Muslim Brotherhood, despite being banned, did not end; instead, 'underground' activities and a ''victimhood narrative'' increased. This led to further division and tension in society (CFR, Analysis on Egypt, 2014; Brookings Report on Rethinking Political Islam, 2015). Therefore, banning does not solve a problem but gives it a new shape.

Lastly, the case of Thailand also offers the same lesson. Following the dissolution of the ''Move Forward Party'' in 2024, Amnesty International stated it harms the freedom of expression and association (Deprose Muchena, Amnesty International, 7 August 2024). Human Rights Watch also mentioned it as a significant setback for democracy (Thailand: Constitutional Court Dissolves Opposition Party, Human Rights Watch, 2024). This demonstrates that removing a major opposition party weakens politics.

So, these experiences provide an important warning: Once a precedent is set of dissolving major political parties by labeling them “unfavorable” or “risky,” any future government may use the same approach. If today's target is the Awami League, tomorrow it could be another party.

Therefore, ''justice'' and ''banning'' must not be confused. Anja Mihr in her book Regime Consolidation and Transitional Justice shows that justice, truth-telling, and institutional reforms can enhance democratic standards if they are not used as tools of revenge.

Furthermore, Geoff Dancy warned in the International Journal of Transitional Justice in 2025 that transitional justice, if used inappropriately, could lead to democratic decay. This means fair justice is necessary, but it should be happened in a way that strengthens the future democratic foundation rather than solidifying party hostilities.

In Bangladesh's current political scenario, the second part of the argument is more significant: which of the 133 ordinances issued by the interim government will remain effective, and which will be abolished? According to a report published in Prothom Alo, crucial ordinances related to the independence of the judiciary, protection of human rights, and accountability in governance (such as transparency in judge appointment processes, administrative autonomy of the Supreme Court, considering disappearances as ''continuing offences,'' increasing investigative powers of the Human Rights Commission, and expanding the Anti-Corruption Commission's capabilities) are in uncertain status. Essentially, reforms deemed essential for strengthening the moral foundation and institutional competence of the state are being sidelined from the priority list.

In this situation, the apparent contradiction goes beyond mere policy limitations; it also carries profound significance from a political-economic perspective. On one hand, there is increasing interest in punitive laws aimed at controlling or restricting adversaries, while on the other, initiatives aimed at improving legal governance, institutional efficiency, and long-term administrative development are being postponed or weakened.
Such tendencies are often described by researchers as ''punitive governance'' (governance by instilling regular fear among the public), where political control is prioritised over state-building. Consequently, there are concerns that both the legitimacy of laws and public trust may erode.

In this context, a fundamental theoretical question arises: Is Bangladesh gradually moving towards rule-based governance, or is it reverting to power-based governance?

If punitive laws rapidly gain institutional form but the independence of the judiciary and accountability structures remain weak, the law itself risks losing neutrality and becoming a political tool. Though it may yield short-term political benefits, it damages constitutional credibility in the long run.

Such risk examples are not new in Bangladesh's political history. Both in 1996 and 2006, when political parties sacrificed institutional neutrality and constitutional balance for short-term strategic benefits, the impact was not confined to party politics but destabilised the state's overall structure.
Experience imparts an important lesson: Strengthening a state by weakening competitive politics is not possible. Here lies a clear warning for the BNP.

Therefore, reprioritisation is most urgent in the present context. If political bans are institutionalised into permanent legal frameworks but concurrently judiciary, human rights, disappearance prevention, and anti-corruption reforms lag, it will create a ''normative'' crisis.

At that point, questions will no longer be just political; the moral foundation of the state itself will be questioned—Is Bangladesh truly transitioning into an accountable and reform-oriented state, or is it reverting to a new form of its previous controlling governance system?
The answer to this question will determine whether the country's future trajectory will involve institutional reconstruction or remain confined within mere power realignments.

After almost every significant mass uprising or regime change, unruly and opportunistic groups often emerge. Political scientist Regina Bateson, in her book The Politics of Vigilantism, demonstrates that when the state is weak, informal punisher or ''vigilante'' groups sometimes form.

Furthermore, crime analyst Mark Shaw, in his book Crime and Policing in Post-Apartheid South Africa, illustrates how law enforcement, crime, and non-state power become entangled during political transitions.

Thus, if such groups emerge in post-July Bangladesh, speaking of ethics while practically working for power or profit, the government needs to be vigilant. Otherwise, laws like banning parties may one day become tools misused by these groups.

Another cautionary aspect is related to constitutional questions. Amending the 1972 Constitution may be debated in parliament, which is appropriate. However, language like "abolishing the Constitution" always raises suspicion as abolition politics sometimes signifies politics not of amendment but of questioning the historical foundation and legitimacy of the state.

Tunisia's experience shows that even amid severe political turmoil in 2013-14, a roadmap, dialogue, and inclusive process guided new constitutional consensus forward; no unelected forces imposed a permanent design. For Bangladesh, that lesson is crucial: If constitutional reconfiguration occurs, it should be within an elected parliament and not through romantic slogans of abolition.

Overall, the path forward is clear. Firstly, prosecute the Awami League leaders, planners, and policy-makers involved in crimes, disappearances, and repressive policies, based on personal accountability.

Secondly, prioritise the ordinances among the 133 that relate to the judiciary, human rights, prevention of disappearances, right to information, and anti-corruption enforcement, and transform them into laws.

This means choosing a path that avoids creating new crises in the future but establishes a sustainable, acceptable, and balanced state system.

*Mohammad Jalal Uddin Shikder is teacher and researcher, Department of Political Science and Sociology, North South University

*The opinion expressed is the author's own.

#This article, originally published in Prothom Alo print and online editions, has been rewritten in English by Rabiul Islam.