The question of whether the Awami League can ever return to power in Bangladesh has now become one of the most intriguing debates in the country’s political conversation. For more than a decade and a half, the party dominated the national stage under the leadership of Sheikh Hasina, shaping the country’s governance, economy, and even its foreign policy orientation. But the dramatic upheavals of 2024 and 2025 overturned a political order that many once thought unshakeable. The sudden collapse of the old government, the flight of Hasina abroad, and the rise of an interim authority determined to cleanse politics of old abuses all combined to leave the Awami League in its weakest position in decades. And yet, Bangladeshi politics has a long memory. Parties once thought finished have returned to relevance before. To understand whether the Awami League has any realistic chance of doing so, one has to look closely at the forces of history, organisation, public mood, and the institutional framework that will govern the next election.
The first thing that complicates any simple dismissal of the Awami League is the sheer depth of the organisation it built during its years in power. It is not merely a party with a parliamentary caucus. It is a network that extends from union councils in remote villages to student halls in the nation’s universities. Even after formal restrictions and crackdowns, those networks do not vanish overnight. Local leaders, union-level activists, and community organisers who once channelled patronage and implemented development projects remain embedded in society. In many districts, they continue to hold informal sway over social organisations, business associations, and even elements of the bureaucracy. This level of penetration gives the Awami League a kind of structural resilience that newer movements lack. For ordinary citizens, the image of the party as the builder of bridges, highways, power plants and digital networks is still present, even if clouded by controversies of governance. History provides an additional shield. As the party of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the architect of independence, the Awami League enjoys symbolic legitimacy that cannot easily be erased from the national imagination.
Yet the obstacles standing in the way of a return to power are formidable. The interim authority has deliberately sought to dismantle the legal and institutional bases of the party’s dominance. Cases have been filed against senior figures, its organisational registration has been suspended, and local activities curtailed by security forces. Without recognition by the Election Commission and the ability to field candidates, no amount of history or memory will be enough to secure seats in a future parliament. The timing of electoral reforms matters here. The interim government has promised to restore democracy through a reconfigured electoral framework, one that it argues will prevent the abuses of past decades. If those reforms harden into laws that effectively exclude parties under investigation or create barriers to re-registration, then the Awami League may find itself locked out of formal politics for years. If, however, the reforms remain open and reversible, then a legal and procedural pathway could emerge for the party to compete again.
The broader political mood of the public is another decisive factor. The protests of 2024 were not just an elite reshuffle but a mass uprising, driven by ordinary citizens, especially students and young professionals, who were determined to end what they saw as an entrenched system of corruption and authoritarianism. The image of the Awami League in that moment was one of excess power, of overstaying its welcome, of silencing dissent. Those wounds have not yet healed. For many, the departure of Hasina was itself a kind of liberation. That perception cannot be quickly reversed. At the same time, political moods are fluid. History shows that citizens can tire of transitional governments, particularly if they fail to deliver stability, jobs, or effective governance. In the months since the protests, expectations have been high. If the interim authorities stumble — if inflation rises, if unemployment worsens, if law and order falters — a sense of nostalgia for the stability and competence of the previous era may grow. Even critics may admit that the Awami League, for all its faults, at least knew how to get things done. That is often how comebacks are born: not from passionate love for the old rulers, but from fatigue with the new.
International opinion will also weigh heavily. Bangladesh’s politics does not operate in isolation. Western donors, India, China, and multilateral organisations all have stakes in the stability of Dhaka. The 2024 transition was welcomed abroad as a chance for democratic renewal. But over time, foreign actors may come to prioritise stability over reform, particularly if unrest grows. A weakened but still recognisable Awami League might be seen as a useful vehicle for such stability, especially if it can present a reformed face with younger leaders and a promise of reconciliation. The extent to which the party can project an image of change — shedding controversial figures, putting forward a new generation, and committing to democratic norms — will shape how international actors respond to its rehabilitation.
The next general election, tentatively scheduled for 2026, is the immediate horizon. The timeline is crucial. If the party remains legally banned or disorganised by then, it will struggle even to contest, let alone to win. A shortened calendar squeezes its chances; a longer transition could give space for regrouping. Much will depend on whether the legal cases against top leaders move quickly or are quietly resolved. Political settlements have been known to occur in Bangladesh before, where behind-the-scenes bargaining results in compromises that allow once-banned leaders to return. If that happens again, it could open the door for the Awami League’s re-entry.
Generational politics complicates this picture. The young Bangladeshis who were at the heart of the 2024 protests are unlikely to be easily won back by slogans about the liberation struggle or even by promises of mega-projects. Their concerns revolve around jobs, technology, climate change, and corruption. For the Awami League to reinvent itself, it must find a way to speak to these anxieties without relying solely on the legacy of Mujib or the record of Hasina. A reformed party that elevates younger leaders, adopts digital campaigning, and emphasises transparency could slowly regain credibility. Without that shift, the generational divide may permanently blunt its chances.
Of course, no comeback is guaranteed. The risks of failure are high. The legal cases could end with convictions that bar senior figures for good. The party’s grassroots could fragment, with cadres defecting to newer movements or local independents. Prolonged absence from government might dry up patronage networks that have long kept loyalty intact. And a new generation of political forces — whether Islamist-leaning, reformist, or civic-based — could take root in the vacuum, permanently reducing the Awami League to a shadow of its former self. In that scenario, the party might survive but only as a mid-sized player, unable to reclaim the dominance it once enjoyed.
Yet one should be cautious about writing premature obituaries in Bangladeshi politics. The country’s political history is filled with sudden reversals. Military rulers have fallen overnight. Parties written off as obsolete have returned to office after unexpected swings in public mood. The very volatility of the country’s democratic journey creates opportunities for those with organisational depth and historical legitimacy. For all its present troubles, the Awami League still holds both. The decisive question is whether it can translate them into relevance in a new era where voters demand accountability and where international actors are watching closely.
The most realistic assessment, therefore, is that the Awami League’s return is possible but conditional. It depends on the opening of legal space, the performance of the interim government, the ability of the party to adapt to generational demands, and the willingness of both the public and international partners to forgive and reconcile. A return in its old form, with the same leadership and the same style of rule, looks increasingly unlikely. But a reconfigured, perhaps humbled Awami League, presenting itself as a guarantor of stability and experience in a fragmented political field, may yet find its way back into office. In the end, the question is less about whether the party wants to return — it clearly does — and more about whether the rules of the new political order will allow it, and whether the Bangladeshi people, after such upheaval, will once again entrust it with power.
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