By Dr. Zafar Iqbal
History rarely speaks in absolutes. It speaks in warnings. In 1975, barely four years after independence, Bangladesh witnessed one of the most dramatic constitutional transformations in South Asian political history: the formation of the Bangladesh Krishak Sramik Awami League (BAKSAL). Established through the Fourth Amendment to the Constitution on 7 June 1975, BAKSAL transformed a multiparty parliamentary system into a single-party presidential structure under Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. It lasted less than seventy days before the tragic events of 15 August 1975 altered the course of the nation. Yet nearly five decades later, the question remains: what was BAKSAL? Was it a failed constitutional experiment, a premature authoritarian turn, a misunderstood attempt at stabilization, or a structural inevitability in fragile post-war states? Perhaps it was all of these—simultaneously.
To understand BAKSAL, one must first consider the justification presented by the key party, the Awami League of Bangladesh in 1974–75. The country was recovering from a devastating liberation war, destroyed infrastructure, administrative collapse, the 1974 famine, economic dislocation and inflation, rising corruption, and a breakdown in governance. Institutions were weak, bureaucracy overstretched, and political violence was not uncommon. In such an environment, the temptation to centralize authority often appears as an administrative solution rather than a political ambition. This context allows one interpretation of BAKSAL as a desperate effort to stabilize a fragile state. Critics, however, saw it differently, arguing that it was “not a rare phenomenon to exploit the obvious scenario to accomplish the agenda, the real target, the foundation of a dynasty, with democratic processes merely a tool, not the real spirit of democracy.”
In this reading, BAKSAL was not born of autocratic impulse but of developmental urgency. Yet history teaches a sobering lesson: stability built on political compression often produces systemic shock rather than long-term order. There is a deeper structural argument. Post-war states frequently oscillate between pluralism and consolidation. When institutions are weak and economic pressure high, executive power tends to expand. Examples across Africa, Asia, and Latin America during the 1960s and 1970s reveal similar patterns. Was BAKSAL therefore inevitable? Perhaps not inevitable—but structurally predictable. Fragile states without strong institutional guardrails often slide towards centralization when confronted with crisis. The relevance of BAKSAL today lies not in historical nostalgia but in institutional reflection.
Contemporary Bangladesh operates within a constitutional multiparty framework, yet debates persist over electoral competitiveness, media freedom, institutional independence, and executive centralization. The comparison is not equivalence—it is cautionary. History does not repeat mechanically, but it rhymes institutionally. The deeper question for modern Bangladesh is not whether it is becoming BAKSAL, but whether its institutions are resilient enough to prevent over-centralization under stress. BAKSAL offers three critical lessons for emerging democracies. Constitutional legality is not institutional legitimacy: amendments can be passed, but legitimacy requires plural consent. Development cannot replace pluralism: economic urgency does not justify permanent political narrowing. Strong institutions outlast strong leaders: systems must be designed to function beyond personalities.
Newly independent states navigated between superpower influences. Centralized party structures were not uncommon among states aligned—formally or informally—with socialist blocs. Bangladesh, emerging from war, was economically dependent and diplomatically sensitive; geopolitical alignments mattered. Two major socialist governance models influenced the time: the Soviet model, emphasizing centralized bureaucratic party control, and the Chinese model, especially post-Cultural Revolution, emphasizing ideological mobilization and party-led restructuring. BAKSAL’s design reflected aspects of centralized consolidation rather than decentralized mobilization. Yet it was neither a direct copy of Moscow nor Beijing; it was an indigenous attempt shaped by global ideological currents. South Asia during the 1970s was not immune to democratic contraction. Emergency rule in neighboring India (1975–77), military coups in Pakistan, and political volatility across the region suggest that democratic fragility was not uniquely Bangladeshi—it was structurally regional.
Understanding BAKSAL, therefore, also means understanding South Asia’s turbulent institutional adolescence. It was a constitutional experiment that failed, a premature authoritarian turn in the eyes of critics, a stabilization attempt in the eyes of supporters, and a structurally predictable move in a fragile state. History rarely allows singular framing. The more important question is not what BAKSAL was, but what it teaches. Power centralized for stability must eventually decentralize for legitimacy. Democracies survive not because they avoid crisis, but because their institutions absorb crisis without collapsing into concentration. Pluralism is not noise. It is protection. The best political systems, like the best orchestras, do not silence instruments—they harmonize them.
(The writer is involved in training and practical services in healthcare management, quality, and patient safety. His interests include current affairs, IR, environmental issues, Iqbal studies, political, literary, and national affairs, can be reached at editorial@metro-morning.com)
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