During revolutionary moments, suspending the Constitution can carry strong emotional appeal
During revolutionary moments, suspending the Constitution can carry strong emotional appeal

Law over liberty's ashes

Mass uprisings can remove autocrats in a day, but lasting democracy requires reforming the constitutional order rather than abandoning it
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The contrasting experiences of 1990 and 2024 demonstrate that removing an authoritarian ruler is only half a democratic victory; the harder challenge is determining the constitutional order that follows.

Mass uprisings are remembered for the autocrats they depose, but history judges them by what they construct in the aftermath. Bangladesh’s uprisings in 1990 and 2024 both ousted entrenched regimes, yet they generated radically different constitutional moments. The defining variable was not merely the character of Hussain Muhammad Ershad or Sheikh Hasina, but the presence—or absence—of pre-collapse political negotiation.

The 1990 movement presented a rare opening to rebuild democratic institutions. Though many commitments of the three political alliances were eventually discarded and confrontational politics re-emerged, the transition nonetheless restored electoral government and established a trajectory that prevented direct military rule.

Even during the military-backed caretaker period of 2007–08, the armed forces refrained from formally replacing the Constitution with martial law, a crucial distinction from earlier eras. By late 1990, opposition parties had negotiated a roadmap to transfer power to a neutral administration and hold elections within 90 days. 

Following Ershad’s resignation on December 6th, Chief Justice Shahabuddin Ahmed assumed the acting presidency to oversee the 1991 polls. Subsequent constitutional amendments validated the transition and restored parliamentary democracy. Consensus came first; legal accommodation followed.

By contrast, the crisis of 2024 unfolded without prior consensus. Years of manipulated elections and the abolition of the non-party caretaker system had destroyed political trust. When the July 2024 student-led uprising met severe state violence, demands for reform hardened into a single imperative: Hasina’s departure. 

When she fled on August 5th and Parliament dissolved, a severe constitutional vacuum emerged. The Fifteenth Amendment had eliminated the mechanism for an interim administration, leaving political actors, the military, and student leaders to improvise a solution.

Opinions diverged sharply. Some intellectuals and student leaders advocated abandoning or rewriting the 1972 Constitution through a revolutionary process. Mainstream parties, including the Bangladesh Nationalist Party and Jamaat-e-Islami, preferred constitutional continuity while utilizing emergency mechanisms. 

The solution was derived through Article 106, allowing the President to seek the Supreme Court’s advisory opinion. The Appellate Division advised that an interim administration under Professor Muhammad Yunus could be appointed to manage the emergency. Subsequent judicial rulings confirmed the legality of this arrangement as a necessary response to an unprecedented crisis.

During revolutionary moments, suspending the Constitution can carry strong emotional appeal, particularly when an autocrat has weaponized its provisions. Yet a constitution does not belong to the ruler who abuses it; it remains the foundational architecture of the state, underwriting the authority of the courts, presidency, administration, and armed forces. 

Suspending it creates a sovereign vacuum, raising the hazardous question of who holds ultimate power. Without an explicit democratic mandate, any revolutionary authority governing outside the constitutional framework rules by decree.

Bangladesh’s history illustrates the perils of such ruptures. Following Ershad’s 1982 martial law declaration, military proclamations were placed above constitutional law, a move the Supreme Court later declared illegal, reaffirming that ultimate sovereignty resides with the people. 

A constitutional suspension in 2024 would not automatically have yielded military rule, but it risks empowering organized, armed, or bureaucratic institutions over civilian ones. Furthermore, it shifts political competition from constitutional channels to a contest for revolutionary legitimacy on the streets, threatening smaller parties, minorities, and unorganized citizens.

Rejecting suspension does not mean preserving an autocratic status quo. The pre-2024 order suffered from hyper-centralized executive power, weak checks and balances, and compromised electoral systems. Substantive transformation remains essential. 

However, sweeping reform—whether through a constitutional convention, an elected constituent assembly, or legislative supermajorities—can be achieved within a lawful framework. Maintaining continuity preserves fundamental rights and institutional stability while meaningful amendments are negotiated.

The lessons of 1990 and 2024 are clear. A successful transition requires political forces to agree on a post-collapse roadmap before a regime falls, encompassing the legal basis of transitional authority, its duration, and the timeline for elections. 

Bangladesh must institutionalize political negotiation to prevent future crises from plunging the state into legal uncertainty. To replace arbitrary personal rule with durable institutions, the state must transform the substance of its constitutional order while maintaining legal continuity, ensuring the Constitution functions as an instrument of popular sovereignty rather than regime survival.

The writer is a political analyst. He can be reached at  mwtanvir@gmail.com

Daily Waadaa
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