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When NCP’s rhetoric of a new politics meets reality
The promise of a "noya bondobosto" or new settlement carries an enormous political appeal.
When NCP’s rhetoric of a new politics meets reality
VISUAL: ANWAR SOHEL
The promise of a "noya bondobosto" or new settlement carries an enormous political appeal. After years of democratic erosion, institutional decay, and public disillusionment in the country, citizens have understandably been eager for a political force that breaks with the entrenched habits of established parties. The National Citizen Party (NCP) had positioned itself as that force. But a new political "settlement" or system or culture cannot be built through lofty speeches or slogans. It requires clarity, credibility, and disciplined political practice on the ground. Judged by these standards, there is reasonable scepticism, especially after its seat-sharing arrangement with Jamaat-e-Islami, about whether NCP can deliver its promise as it increasingly surrenders to the pull of familiar political conveniences.
The central issue with the NCP's move isn't that they have ideological differences with their partners, but the action's potential to create public distrust. In an article published in this daily on October 17, 2024, I argued that the student-public uprising succeeded where established political parties such as the BNP failed, despite their shared goal of regime change, because the public had lost trust in traditional politicians. That distrust was the cumulative outcome of years of opacity, opportunism, and instrumental politics. Notably, the same pathologies appear to have emerged within the NCP itself, a party that had promised to transcend them.
Any party serious about a new political settlement must first articulate a clear vision to the people. Apart from a few vague concepts and symbolic initiatives, such as the "Desh Gorte July Padajatra", the NCP has failed to offer sustained pro-people programmes that explain what it stands for, or how it intends to govern differently. Even after formally constituting itself as a political party, its leadership has remained disproportionately engaged on university campuses and with foreign delegates, rather than systematically building grassroots connections. My conversations with voters outside elite or educated circles in urban areas reveal, most citizens cannot identify NCP leaders beyond a handful of prominent figures, let alone explain the party's ideological commitments. A party that remains largely socially unrecognisable cannot plausibly claim to represent the public.
This limitation of outreach reflects a deeper failure of ideological clarity. What exactly is the NCP for? What principles guide its policy positions, alliances, and internal decisions? Nearly a year after its emergence, the party still lacks a clear, publicly articulated manifesto. Even senior figures struggle, when asked, to move beyond a few abstract terminologies in explaining the party's commitments. This is not a messaging problem. It is a failure of political self-definition.
When a party cannot clearly state who it is and what it stands for, citizens are not obliged to supply trust in advance. On the contrary, opacity invites suspicion. If a political actor appears uncertain about its own identity, or unwilling to clarify it, it dents confidence. Political trust arises from sustained clarity about ends, means, and limits. Ambiguity may offer short-term tactical advantages, but it is normatively corrosive. Clarity is a political virtue, and without it, the rhetoric of a new settlement collapses.
Concerns about political judgment on different occasions further compound this credibility gap. Even the decision to rename their July podojatra in Gopalganj as a "March to Gopalganj," a move that later contributed to violence, raised questions about the party's political maturity and capacity to assess risk in volatile contexts. A party aspiring to reshape the political order must demonstrate restraint, situational awareness, and responsibility. On this count, the NCP has fallen short.
Problems of internal governance intensify these doubts. Recent public disclosures, including Tajnuva Jabeen's Facebook post and Anik Roy's interview, suggest that decision-making within the party does not consistently follow transparent or consultative procedures. Decisions reportedly taken without majority consent, or circulated at the last moment when party insiders have had no meaningful opportunity to respond, generate internal distrust. Such dysfunction does not remain internal. Political parties are public institutions by nature. When their internal processes appear arbitrary, citizens reasonably infer that similar habits will govern public decision-making.
The problem becomes even more acute when questions of inclusion are considered. A party that claims to inaugurate a new political settlement must demonstrate a principled commitment to women and marginalised groups. Yet, the NCP has articulated no clear roadmap for women's participation or leadership. This absence is especially troubling given its electoral coalitions with parties that openly oppose women's visibility in public life and often display misogynistic attitudes. Former insiders suggest that the NCP is now compelled to campaign for allied parties in constituencies where it does not field its own candidates. Such arrangements compromise both moral credibility and political autonomy.
Taken together, these failures form a pattern, and it is this pattern that decisively undermines the NCP's claim to a new political settlement. The conditions required for a genuine settlement—ideological clarity, organisational discipline, internal democracy, political judgment, and principled inclusion—are not missing by chance. They appear to be absent by design or neglect. A party that cannot properly define or govern itself, and cannot transparently justify its actions and alliances, cannot plausibly be entrusted with reshaping the political order. Political settlements are built by actors who know who they are, what they stand for, and whom they refuse to accommodate. The NCP has shown neither the coherence nor the courage required for such a task. What remains is not an unfinished project but a cautionary example of how the language of renewal can be hollowed out from within.
Bangladesh does not merely need new actors in politics. It needs new standards of political conduct. Trust cannot be demanded in advance, nor can democratic renewal be declared into existence. It must be earned through clarity, discipline, judgment, and visible commitment to principles that survive pressure, temptation, and alliance politics. Where these are absent, appeals to novelty only deepen public cynicism rather than overcome it.
Kazi A S M Nurul Huda is associate professor of philosophy at the University of Dhaka and the Cmelikova Visiting International Scholar in Leadership and Ethics at the University of Richmond.
VISUAL: ANWAR SOHEL
The promise of a "noya bondobosto" or new settlement carries an enormous political appeal. After years of democratic erosion, institutional decay, and public disillusionment in the country, citizens have understandably been eager for a political force that breaks with the entrenched habits of established parties. The National Citizen Party (NCP) had positioned itself as that force. But a new political "settlement" or system or culture cannot be built through lofty speeches or slogans. It requires clarity, credibility, and disciplined political practice on the ground. Judged by these standards, there is reasonable scepticism, especially after its seat-sharing arrangement with Jamaat-e-Islami, about whether NCP can deliver its promise as it increasingly surrenders to the pull of familiar political conveniences.
The central issue with the NCP's move isn't that they have ideological differences with their partners, but the action's potential to create public distrust. In an article published in this daily on October 17, 2024, I argued that the student-public uprising succeeded where established political parties such as the BNP failed, despite their shared goal of regime change, because the public had lost trust in traditional politicians. That distrust was the cumulative outcome of years of opacity, opportunism, and instrumental politics. Notably, the same pathologies appear to have emerged within the NCP itself, a party that had promised to transcend them.
Any party serious about a new political settlement must first articulate a clear vision to the people. Apart from a few vague concepts and symbolic initiatives, such as the "Desh Gorte July Padajatra", the NCP has failed to offer sustained pro-people programmes that explain what it stands for, or how it intends to govern differently. Even after formally constituting itself as a political party, its leadership has remained disproportionately engaged on university campuses and with foreign delegates, rather than systematically building grassroots connections. My conversations with voters outside elite or educated circles in urban areas reveal, most citizens cannot identify NCP leaders beyond a handful of prominent figures, let alone explain the party's ideological commitments. A party that remains largely socially unrecognisable cannot plausibly claim to represent the public.
This limitation of outreach reflects a deeper failure of ideological clarity. What exactly is the NCP for? What principles guide its policy positions, alliances, and internal decisions? Nearly a year after its emergence, the party still lacks a clear, publicly articulated manifesto. Even senior figures struggle, when asked, to move beyond a few abstract terminologies in explaining the party's commitments. This is not a messaging problem. It is a failure of political self-definition.
When a party cannot clearly state who it is and what it stands for, citizens are not obliged to supply trust in advance. On the contrary, opacity invites suspicion. If a political actor appears uncertain about its own identity, or unwilling to clarify it, it dents confidence. Political trust arises from sustained clarity about ends, means, and limits. Ambiguity may offer short-term tactical advantages, but it is normatively corrosive. Clarity is a political virtue, and without it, the rhetoric of a new settlement collapses.
Concerns about political judgment on different occasions further compound this credibility gap. Even the decision to rename their July podojatra in Gopalganj as a "March to Gopalganj," a move that later contributed to violence, raised questions about the party's political maturity and capacity to assess risk in volatile contexts. A party aspiring to reshape the political order must demonstrate restraint, situational awareness, and responsibility. On this count, the NCP has fallen short.
Problems of internal governance intensify these doubts. Recent public disclosures, including Tajnuva Jabeen's Facebook post and Anik Roy's interview, suggest that decision-making within the party does not consistently follow transparent or consultative procedures. Decisions reportedly taken without majority consent, or circulated at the last moment when party insiders have had no meaningful opportunity to respond, generate internal distrust. Such dysfunction does not remain internal. Political parties are public institutions by nature. When their internal processes appear arbitrary, citizens reasonably infer that similar habits will govern public decision-making.
The problem becomes even more acute when questions of inclusion are considered. A party that claims to inaugurate a new political settlement must demonstrate a principled commitment to women and marginalised groups. Yet, the NCP has articulated no clear roadmap for women's participation or leadership. This absence is especially troubling given its electoral coalitions with parties that openly oppose women's visibility in public life and often display misogynistic attitudes. Former insiders suggest that the NCP is now compelled to campaign for allied parties in constituencies where it does not field its own candidates. Such arrangements compromise both moral credibility and political autonomy.
Taken together, these failures form a pattern, and it is this pattern that decisively undermines the NCP's claim to a new political settlement. The conditions required for a genuine settlement—ideological clarity, organisational discipline, internal democracy, political judgment, and principled inclusion—are not missing by chance. They appear to be absent by design or neglect. A party that cannot properly define or govern itself, and cannot transparently justify its actions and alliances, cannot plausibly be entrusted with reshaping the political order. Political settlements are built by actors who know who they are, what they stand for, and whom they refuse to accommodate. The NCP has shown neither the coherence nor the courage required for such a task. What remains is not an unfinished project but a cautionary example of how the language of renewal can be hollowed out from within.
Bangladesh does not merely need new actors in politics. It needs new standards of political conduct. Trust cannot be demanded in advance, nor can democratic renewal be declared into existence. It must be earned through clarity, discipline, judgment, and visible commitment to principles that survive pressure, temptation, and alliance politics. Where these are absent, appeals to novelty only deepen public cynicism rather than overcome it.
Kazi A S M Nurul Huda is associate professor of philosophy at the University of Dhaka and the Cmelikova Visiting International Scholar in Leadership and Ethics at the University of Richmond.
