The genocide that unfolded in Bangladesh during the Long July Uprising didn’t emerge overnight—it was set in motion on the night of December 30, 2018, in the wake of that controversial election.

That night, the ruling Awami League made a pivotal decision: they would not relinquish power through any democratic means, no matter the cost.

The tragedy that happened in July 2024, is merely the culmination of one political manipulation after another.

In 2018, the entire nation of Bangladesh was transformed into a laughingstock, and as history has shown, those who can be reduced to objects of mockery are often the same ones who can be discarded, without hesitation, in the ruthless calculus of power.

Looking back, we can see how the Awami League’s earlier actions in 2014 laid the groundwork for this authoritarian trajectory.

In that election, the party bypassed the normal democratic processes, manipulating the judiciary to ensure that the caretaker government, a mechanism designed to ensure electoral fairness, would be permanently abolished.

ABM Khairul Haque, handpicked for this task, issued the ruling banning the caretaker system. Then, despite opposition from their own expert team, Awami League leader Sheikh Hasina, at the encouragement of Indian bureaucratic advisors, pushed through a highly contested, virtually uncontested election.

While this might seem like a lesser offense in the grand scheme of things—after all, elections without a caretaker government could one day be the norm, akin to those in India or the United States—it was still a breach of democratic norms.

And yet, in a twisted sense, the Awami League got away with it, avoiding direct responsibility while opening a window for further manipulation.

But it was the 2018 election that marked the true nadir of Bangladesh’s political integrity. That election was not just flawed; it was a deliberate farce—a betrayal of everything democracy should stand for.

The Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), despite its own reservations, entered the election accepting Sheikh Hasina as the sitting prime minister. The party even agreed to accept Kamal Hossain, a former Awami League ally, as their leader.

Yet, this was the point at which the Awami League crossed the line into outright dishonesty and contempt for the very fabric of democratic process.

The election was held under conditions so murky, with votes being cast in the dead of night, that it’s almost incomprehensible to imagine such a flagrant betrayal of public trust.

For the BNP, it was a political gamble, led by Mirza Fakhrul Islam Alamgir, who had to organize his party against the growing influence of the far-right wing.

He agreed to support Kamal Hossain, even though Hossain had once been part of the Awami League’s inner circle, all while the ruling party met secretly with bureaucrats and deep state figures, concerned only with the logistics of rigging the vote.

A mistaken step and cascading effects

After the election, Mahmudur Rahman, a prominent political figure, released a video accusing Mirza Fakhrul of endangering the BNP by playing the game of a rigged election, suggesting the party should merge with Islamist factions to survive.

Despite the cynical climate, Fakhrul held firm to his commitment to keep the BNP within a moderate political framework, even as it seemed the walls were closing in.

The fact that the party’s leadership, including Tareq Zia and Khaleda Zia, allowed him to do so is nothing short of miraculous, a rare moment of integrity amid a tide of political deceit.

The events of 2018 did more than just undermine the democratic process—they paved the way for the kind of violence and repression that now threatens to define the future of Bangladesh.

The state’s transformation of its citizens into mere pawns in a political game has set the stage for what may come: a genocidal eruption of violence that will be the legacy of a government that sacrificed its people for the sake of power.

The world must bear witness to this unraveling tragedy—and remember that it all began when Bangladesh’s leaders decided, in the darkness of that December night, that their grip on power was worth any cost.

Regrettably, the interim government is currently facing intense criticism from various quarters, all pointing to a range of issues, including rising commodity prices, deteriorating law and order, and escalating communal tensions.

The reality, however, is that each of these problems is deeply rooted in structural flaws within our country—flaws that have been exacerbated by the Awami League's corrupt forces over the last 16 years, effectively turning the country into a barren wasteland.

As such, addressing or even untangling these issues has become an incredibly difficult task.

However, the most critical issue remains the investigation into the 2018 election—a travesty that unfolded across 300 seats and thousands of polling centers.

Unfortunately, this investigation has been limited to a handful of bureaucrats and local law enforcement officials.

The point I want to make is that investigation itself is far more important than simply passing judgment, and bringing the findings of such an investigation to the public is absolutely crucial.

If this investigation had been conducted thoroughly, it could have exposed the Awami League for what it truly is—a party that operates more like a psychopathic entity, completely unfit for democratic governance.

It could have provided detailed insight into how Bangladesh’s deep state machinery, which has failed for decades to address fundamental issues like agricultural supply chains or the electricity crisis, was somehow able to orchestrate an election theft on such a massive scale.

Why is investigation into the 2018 election important?

Such an investigation could have served as an early warning system for the people of Bangladesh, alerting them to the signs of future electoral fraud.

Like a storm warning, it could have acted as an alarm bell, potentially preventing the violence that ultimately unfolded in July.

Most importantly, investigating the 2018 election wouldn’t have required monumental effort. There is an abundance of documentation related to that election stored within agencies like the NSI and DGFI.

With a relatively simple, office-level investigation, the truth could have been uncovered. This task was well within the capabilities of the current government.

If they are unable to accomplish such a basic investigation, then discussions about other reforms are nothing more than empty rhetoric.

I don’t waste my time discussing distant reforms or bureaucratic restructuring with anyone who fails to complete tasks within their capacity.

The fact that the fraudulent 2018 election remains unaddressed—leaving the people with no closure—serves as the clearest indication that we will face the same crisis again in the future.

In a democracy, particularly when it comes to elections, a crucial element is the consent of the losers. This means that those who lose must believe the election was fair.

Without this basic principle in place, the core philosophy of elections—the peaceful transfer of power—becomes inherently flawed. The biggest challenge now for the current government is to organize an election that is deemed acceptable by all.

The more the National People's Party is involved at the grassroots level, the harder it will be for their advisors within the government to prove that the election was conducted fairly.

By making the 2018 election process transparent to the public, the current advisory council has an opportunity to accomplish several important things. First, they can expose the deep state machinery responsible for manipulating elections, demonstrating their commitment to fair elections.

Second, they can empower moderate, left-wing, and pro-democracy factions within the BNP, such as Mirza Fakhrul and his allies.

Third, they can provide the people of Bangladesh with some semblance of closure for the mockery they endured, restoring at least a modicum of hope in the country’s systems.

If the government hesitates due to pressure from the military or intimidation by the civilian bureaucracy, the bureaucracy will face no consequences. They will argue, "The student leaders in power couldn't find any fault with us," and in the end, the blame will fall on the July movement and the advisors.

In that case, my request is that, out of responsibility for their own future, they document the reasons why they failed to act. These records will be invaluable later. Ultimately, the people will decide what happens next.

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Mikail Hossain is a researcher and analyst