Hasina’s Trial and the Future of the Awami League
Imagine a scenario: a long-serving, once-elected Prime Minister who ruled with immense authority is toppled by a mass uprising. She is accused of crimes against humanity and sentenced to death. As she is taken to the execution platform, she wonders—what was her crime? This moment of reflection echoes Robert Browning’s The Patriot, which reminds us that a hero celebrated one day can be cast aside the next.
A simple Bengali rendering of a portion of that poem goes:
“Drenched in rain, I run toward the execution ground, my hands tightly bound behind me. I feel my skin tearing, perhaps blood drips from my brow. Whoever wishes, hurls stones at me—this is the fruit of my deeds in just one year. Such is my arrival and departure! Such is the price of my year’s labor.”
This is the tale of the leader of the 76-year-old Awami League. For nearly 47 years, Sheikh Hasina served as the party’s president, and for around 27 years she dominated national politics as either opposition leader or Prime Minister. Though she has lost executive authority, she remains central to political debate. Inside the Awami League, her position is unquestioned—almost god-like. Even 15 months after leaving the country, the party’s identity remains inseparable from her own. This raises the question: what is the future of the Awami League in such a situation?
Political history, both at home and abroad, offers examples of parties and leaders bouncing back after major defeats. Can the Awami League do the same? The uncertainty stems from the reality that highly personalised parties often struggle to survive when their central figure is removed.
On 25 January 1975, the Fourth Amendment established one-man rule under Sheikh Mujibur Rahman—Bangabandhu, the architect of Bangladesh. But the roles of “leader Mujib” and “ruler Mujib” cannot be measured identically. Despite immense popularity, he failed to deliver effective governance. Within just three years, the political climate changed drastically. When he was killed in a military coup on 15 August 1975, his party was unable to respond effectively.
Yet the Awami League eventually rose again—helped in part by the fact that the rulers of that time did not ban the party outright. In 2025, however, circumstances are different. The Awami League has been banned, and the current authorities show far less tolerance. If the ban persists, its chances of revival are slim. The key question is whether the party can generate enough political and diplomatic pressure to restore its right to operate openly.
Notably, the initial demand of the uprising was not for the party to be banned, but for a trial for “crimes against humanity.” Then the situation abruptly escalated. When newly formed NCP activists marched toward the chief adviser’s residence at Jamuna, an executive order banned the Awami League until the next election.
The Election Commission—under government influence—swiftly suspended the party’s registration and removed its iconic ‘boat’ symbol from the electoral list. Now, many other political parties echo the same stance. None are willing to risk defending the Awami League’s right to political activity. A few still speak softly about the 1972 Constitution, the spirit of the Liberation War, or Bangabandhu’s portrait on their walls—but only in muted tones.
History shows that ideological parties are hard to eliminate. Jamaat-e-Islami is a prime example: banned four times across Pakistan and Bangladesh, its leader Maulana Maududi even faced a death sentence in 1953. Yet the party survived.
When denied open space, political groups often move underground, taking up covert actions—surprise attacks, bombings, arson. Bangladesh has witnessed this before with the Purba Banglar Sarbahara Party and Jasad’s Biplobi Ganobahini. Today, Awami League members appear to be following similar paths, disrupting daily life through strikes and sudden acts of violence.
One widespread criticism of the Awami League is its refusal to acknowledge mistakes. The party shows little remorse, deepening public resentment. But it is also true that no ruling party in Bangladesh has ever admitted fault; all present themselves as beyond reproach.
After August 1975, many Awami League members were arrested, went underground, or fled to India. After the Liberation War, many from the Awami League–NAP–CPB alliance that formed BAKSAL also took refuge in India—among them Kader Siddiqui, Shamim Osman, Sheikh Selim, Mostafa Mohsin Montu, Nurul Islam Nahid, Mujahidul Islam Selim, Monayem Sarkar, SM Yusuf, Obaidul Quader, and others. Once again, many leaders have fled to India, which remains a long-standing safe haven. The Awami League’s political alignment with India has persisted, regardless of the government in Delhi.
Will the Awami League always remain a party aligned with India? This is not unusual. If Bangladesh can host pro-China, pro-Russia, or pro-Pakistan parties, why not a pro-India one? Undeniably, the Awami League has built a strong diplomatic foundation with India. Whether it can re-enter open politics soon depends largely on international pressure—especially India’s position and that of its global allies. In this regard, the call for an “inclusive election” could serve as a platform for the party’s political legitimacy.
Nazrul’s famous line echoes this reality: “Today’s king may beg tomorrow; none remains the same forever.” History is filled with grand ascents and sudden falls, yet few seem to heed its lessons.
The International Crimes Tribunal-1 in Dhaka has now sentenced former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina to death. She is currently in New Delhi, granted safe refuge by the Indian government, and she is unlikely to return to Dhaka to face the verdict. In her audio and video messages, she vows to return as a victor. She still considers herself the rightful, elected Prime Minister—convinced that she was ousted through conspiracy.
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