Are we ready for a referendum we barely understand?

Aristotle once warned that democracy can easily slip away from its ideals when citizens are not well informed. He admired people deciding together, yet he was always uneasy about how those in control of information could shape or distort public opinion. More than two thousand years have passed, but that concern feels strangely familiar in Bangladesh today. As we move toward a referendum that asks citizens to weigh in on constitutional matters far beyond what most have ever been taught, Aristotle’s old worry suddenly feels very close. 

On 13 November, Chief Adviser Muhammad Yunus said that the referendum on the July National Charter would take place on the same day as the national election in February. At first glance it seems bold and efficient. It sounds like a confident democratic step. Yet behind that announcement sits a quieter question that many people hesitate to ask out loud. Do most voters really understand what they are being asked to approve or reject?

The referendum appears simple since it presents only one yes or no question. Inside that single choice, however, sit four major constitutional reforms. The proposals involve changing how a caretaker government might be formed, creating a bicameral parliament, altering the structure of constitutional bodies and requiring future governments to carry out thirty reform commitments agreed upon by political parties. Voters must either accept the entire package or reject all of it.

There is no option to choose selectively. It feels like being offered a whole plate of food at a buffet with no permission to take only what one prefers. At this point Aristotle’s warning returns once again. Democratic failure does not always begin with dictators. It can appear when people vote without understanding, while leaders celebrate a consent that is more symbolic than real.

My worry is not abstract. It feels personal, shaped by what I see around me every day. According to the Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics study from 2023, functional literacy for people aged seven and above is 62.92 percent. This only refers to basic abilities like reading, writing and completing simple daily tasks. It is not the same as political literacy. Among those aged 15 and above the rate is slightly lower at 60.77 percent.

For people between ages 11 and 45, the rate rises to 73.69 percent. This is progress, but it still means more than a quarter of this age group cannot confidently perform basic functional tasks. These figures are based on a test where scoring fifty out of one hundred is enough to be considered literate. When the topic shifts to political concepts, the gap widens dramatically.

-Do people know how an upper house functions?
-Do they understand proportional representation in actual political practice?
-Do they know why caretaker governments became controversial in the first place?
-Do they recognize the difference between constitutional reform and ordinary legislation?

If we answer honestly, the answer for a large portion of the population is no. This is not a failure of the people. It is a long standing failure of the system, which has not provided political education or clear information. Asking millions of citizens, many of whom struggle with fundamental literacy, to vote on sophisticated constitutional changes without proper explanation is not meaningful political participation. It becomes something closer to managed or manufactured approval.

Bangladesh now stands in front of what may become the most complex referendum in its history. It is tied to the July National Charter and to a wider hope for renewal. Complexity alone is not the only challenge. For the first time, the public is being asked to decide on several deep constitutional changes packed into one short and technical sentence. This is not a simple yes or no about leadership. It is not a single question about one clear policy. It is an entire set of institutional and philosophical changes presented to a public that has not had the time or the civic education required to understand them.

This moment looks very different from earlier referendums in Bangladesh. The referendums of 1977 and 1985 were widely interpreted by scholars as efforts by military rulers to gain public legitimacy. The referendum of 1991 was far more credible and focused on one easily understandable issue. It asked whether Bangladesh should return to parliamentary democracy. Whatever their shortcomings, those referendums asked direct questions.

The situation today is completely different. The stakes are higher, the question is broader and the public is far less prepared. A referendum of this magnitude needs civic knowledge, institutional clarity and an electorate that understands what is at risk. None of these conditions have been developed properly. Instead, people are left with confusing political discussions, bits of partisan messaging and technical explanations that rarely connect with everyday experience.

The real danger is not that voters will choose incorrectly. The danger is that they will decide without clarity on what their decision actually means. Many citizens already agree that reforms are necessary. Years of stagnation, concentration of power and political conflict have shown that change is needed. The more important issue is whether people have been prepared to make an informed decision. A referendum should reflect public will. Without genuine public understanding, it becomes symbolic rather than meaningful.

Bangladesh has always had a strange gap between political passion and political education. People are emotionally invested in politics, but they are rarely given structural political understanding. Our history is full of movements and turning points, from 1947 to 1971 to 1990. Yet these moments never turned into long term political education. The political dominance of the Awami League and the BNP encouraged a culture that rewarded loyalty more than knowledge. School textbooks shifted with each government. Civil society debates often took place in elite spaces. For most people, political ideas arrived as slogans, not lessons.

The fall of Ershad in 1990 was supposed to create a more democratic and informed society. Instead, Bangladesh inherited a political culture of fierce competition, centralized decision making and election related violence. Civil society was often included only for appearances. Most decisions were made privately by political elites and then presented to the public. People were expected to accept decisions instead of questioning them.

The current referendum follows a similar pattern. Political leaders and civil society members have already discussed and shaped the charter. Only afterward were citizens told to respond with a simple yes or no. They never received a chance to properly understand or debate the ideas. This is not exclusion through force. It is exclusion through complexity.

Democracy becomes stronger through involvement, but involvement without comprehension can weaken it. When people do not understand a referendum or its consequences, they become vulnerable to rumors, manipulated information and partisan pressure.

The anti-discrimination movement of 2024 showed that people can unite with tremendous clarity and courage when they recognize injustice. However, maintaining that unity and making it meaningful requires political literacy. Without understanding, early energy fades, groups lose direction and the future becomes uncertain.

A referendum is not just a vote. It should become a national conversation. At this moment, that conversation has barely begun.

The government has a responsibility to ensure that citizens understand what they are voting on. People deserve to know the question on the ballot and the political moment surrounding it.

There should be explanatory videos on television. Documentaries should be aired. Social media content, infographics, radio discussions and village level leaflets are all necessary. People need simple explanations of what an upper house is. Televised debates with experts explaining the concepts in everyday language would help. Political parties must reduce slogan based campaigning and increase public education. People cannot decide on a bicameral parliament if they do not know how it works. They cannot judge a referendum if they do not understand the function of constitutional bodies.

Educational institutions must change as well. Textbooks often shift with political leadership. Students learn patriotism, but they rarely learn political literacy. Classrooms should explain why constitutions matter, how elections work and why political debates exist. Student clubs, reading circles, accessible rural libraries and open discussions about governance are essential. The youth showed courage in July 2024. They now need the knowledge that turns courage into sustained democratic participation.

Bangladesh is facing a historic moment. Constitutional reform is not a minor adjustment. It is a transformation that can shape an entire generation. Such a transformation cannot rest on a yes or no question that most people cannot comfortably explain.

If this referendum truly intends to shape our future, then every citizen, from Dhaka to Dimla, should understand what their vote means. Democracy is not only the right to vote. It is also the right to know.

A referendum only has meaning when people understand it. Clarity encourages trust. Confusion creates distance. Bangladesh does not need more uncertainty. What it needs is patient civic education and open conversation, so that each voter walks to the polling booth with confidence about their choice.

* Mostafa Mushfiq is an undergraduate student of Anthropology at the University of Dhaka.