NEW DELHI – The specter of civil war is not a distant, theoretical possibility for Bangladesh; it is a living, breathing monster that is currently scratching at the door, and the warning signs are flashing red, brighter than they have at any point since 1971. The interim government in Dhaka is being pushed, by internal populism and external naivety, to rush towards a general election. This push ignores the fundamental reality on the ground, which is that the state has lost its monopoly on violence. The country is currently sitting on a powder keg of unresolved grief, partisan hatred, and unchecked militancy. To strike the match of a national election campaign in this volatile atmosphere is not an act of democracy; it is an act of arson. The only way to pull the nation back from the brink of total collapse is to hit the pause button, delay the polls for 6 to 12 months, and use that time to aggressively rebuild the shattered security architecture.
The first, and most haunting, reason for this delay is the body count. The uprising of 2024 left over a thousand citizens dead in the streets and many more wounded—a tragedy of a scale that the nation has yet to process fully. These were not just statistics. They were students, workers, and fathers, killed amid a crackdown that rights bodies say involved serious abuses by security forces and ruling-party-linked elements. If an election is to be held now, at this critical juncture in time, before these deaths are thoroughly investigated and the perpetrators brought to justice, the ballot box represents mockery. The families of the victims are not asking for a vote; they are asking for answers. Holding an election without accountability tells the populace that their lives are cheaper than political power. It creates a deep, festering wound in the national psyche that will inevitably erupt into violence. A delay allows for the formation of independent judicial commissions to probe these killings, to identify the killers, and to begin the long, painful process of healing. Without this closure, the anger on the streets will simply boil over into the polling booths.
Then, there is the terrifying reality of the recurring crude-bomb and arson incidents that have repeatedly disrupted public life, including in the election run-up. The political landscape is currently dominated not by debate, but by armed groups and criminal networks tied to political factions. These elements have exploited the instability, contributing to localized zones of fear and insecurity. We have seen a resurgence of crude bomb attacks, targeted assassinations, and the burning of rival party offices. In such a climate, a “campaign” is impossible. How can a candidate hold a rally when they are likely to be attacked? How can a voter attend a town hall when the threat of violence hangs heavy in the air? Rushing into an election now legitimizes these armed groups, giving them a seat at the table. A delay of a year is essential to launch a nationwide disarmament drive, to sweep the country for illegal weapons, and to break the backs of these private armies. You cannot hold a free election when the candidates are pointing guns at each other.
Perhaps the most critical failure of the state is the collapse of the police force. Following the uprising, hundreds of police stations were seen abandoned across the length and breadth of the country, with officers fleeing in fear of reprisal and revenge from angry mobs. While most stations later reopened, confidence, morale, and public trust remain badly shaken—ghost buildings in spirit if not in name. In vast swathes of rural Bangladesh, policing remains thin and ineffective. The vacuum has been filled by local vigilante groups and criminal syndicates who dispense their own brutal form of justice. To ask this hollowed-out force to manage the complex security logistics of a general election is absurd. They do not have the workforce, morale, or community trust to secure thousands of polling stations. A delay is urgently needed to repopulate these stations, to recruit and train new officers who are not tainted by the past regime, and to restore the basic compact between the police and the public.
Critics will argue that delaying the vote is undemocratic, but they ignore the lessons of history. Post-crisis nations like Nepal have faced similar dilemmas where the choice was between a rushed, violent election or a delayed, peaceful one. Nepal chose to wait and prioritize the integration of Maoist rebels and the restoration of security, and that patience has paid off with a stable and fruitful transition.
Bangladesh is at a similar crossroads. A rushed election now risks producing a disputed result that could trigger widespread violence as the losing side rejects the outcome. A delayed election, held after the security forces have been rebuilt and the armed groups dismantled, offers a chance for a genuine reset. The end goal here is not just an election, it is the survival of the nation. Bangladesh is fracturing along dangerous fault lines, and a premature vote will only widen those cracks. The interim government must have the courage to prioritize security over speed. It must tell the world that it is choosing to save the country from large-scale violence, rather than simply ticking a box on an electoral calendar. Restore the security, heal the wounds, and then, only then, let the people decide. Anything less is a gamble with the lives of millions.
Ashu Mann
Ashu Mann is an Associate Fellow at the Centre for Land Warfare Studies. He was awarded the Vice Chief of the Army Staff Commendation card on Army Day 2025. He is pursuing a PhD in Defense and Strategic Studies at Amity University, Noida. His research focuses include the India-China territorial dispute, great power rivalry, and Chinese foreign policy.
- Ashu Mann#molongui-disabled-link
- Ashu Mann#molongui-disabled-link
- Ashu Mann#molongui-disabled-link
- Ashu Mann#molongui-disabled-link
