In the turbulent aftermath of Bangladesh’s 2025 mass uprising, the installation of a so-called reformist interim government was welcomed by many as a much-needed break from Sheikh Hasina’s autocratic rule. However, months into this “transition”, it has become glaringly clear that the state’s proclamations of reform, people’s sovereignty, and democracy are fast dissolving into political theatre—more cosmetic than constitutional.

Take, for instance, the government’s July Charter—a document that allegedly reflects a new consensus between political parties, civil society, and the interim leadership. While celebrated by some as a roadmap for rebuilding democratic institutions, its actual implementation reveals more about elite accommodation than genuine transformation. Participation in drafting it was limited to handpicked actors and closed-door consultations. The political elite, many of whom were complicit or silent during the prior regime’s authoritarian excesses, have simply repackaged themselves as reformists.

This supposed “consensus” excludes the very agents of the uprising—the students, workers, civil society leaders, and journalists who risked their lives confronting tyranny. Their demands for transparency, decentralised power, and structural overhaul are now being drowned in a cacophony of commissions, declarations, and bureaucratic tokenism. Despite a flurry of activity—eleven commissions, stakeholder hearings, annexes galore—none of these structures have been empowered to implement legally binding change. Their findings, like the Media Reform Commission’s report exposing black money’s grip on the press, remain ornamental. Vested interests within the private media remain intact, and ownership structures remain beyond the reach of actual reform.

Ironically, even as the government claims to uphold media freedom, its own conduct tells a different story. Surveillance of dissenters continues. The Digital Security Act may have been diluted, but surveillance mechanisms and information controls are still in play. The state remains suspiciously allergic to dissent that comes from outside its curated forums—whether it be from independent journalists, NGOs, or intellectuals critical of the status quo.

The contradiction lies in the government’s claim of returning power to “the people” while simultaneously insulating itself from popular accountability. It seeks validation through parliamentary mechanisms, while ignoring calls for a referendum or a constituent assembly election that could offer a genuinely fresh mandate. Instead of fostering open dialogue on the future political structure, it prefers tightly scripted “consultations” with aligned interests—creating the illusion of participation without the risk of disruption.

Worse still is the co-option of once-vocal civil society groups. Many who rallied for the fall of Sheikh Hasina have now aligned themselves with the interim administration, eager for a seat at the reform table. This soft betrayal of revolutionary ideals has created a vacuum—leaving the intellectual terrain open to state-managed discourse and historical revisionism. This government may not rule with the iron fist of its predecessor, but it governs with velvet gloves that conceal the same exclusionary logic. The counter-revolution, it appears, didn’t begin with repression—it began with compromise, co-option, and calculated forgetting.