Strategic meaning of BNP’s victory

M A Hossain,

History has a way of returning, though rarely in the same uniform. Bangladesh’s 2026 election was not merely a transfer of power; it was a verdict on identity. When voters handed the Bangladesh Nationalist Party a landslide—nearly two-thirds of Parliament—they were not just ending fifteen years of Awami League dominance. They were closing the door on something else: the quiet re-entry of pro-Pakistan political nostalgia into our public life.

For months, the political atmosphere carried an uncomfortable tilt. campaigned with unusual confidence, presenting itself as a disciplined alternative. Yet beneath the organizational polish lay a troubling imbalance. The party’s rhetoric and regional alignments leaned conspicuously toward —a country whose historical relationship with Bangladesh is not a footnote but a wound. Sovereign nations may reconcile; they must not forget.

Bangladesh’s foreign policy, at its best, has been guided by equilibrium. We trade with , invest with , negotiate with the , and maintain relations with Muslim-majority states without surrendering autonomy. Jamaat’s posture risked disturbing that balance. It hinted at a narrower worldview—one that conflated religious affinity with strategic wisdom. The electorate saw through it.

The youth vote made the difference. The so-called Gen-Z uprising, born in frustration with corruption and authoritarian stagnation, matured into a disciplined electoral force. Young Bangladeshis are digitally fluent, globally aware, and impatient with ideological theatrics. They have watched the Middle East’s experiments with political Islam, Europe’s battles with extremism, and South Asia’s oscillations between strongman rule and democratic revival. Their message was not radical; it was refreshingly moderate. They chose liberal democracy over radical romanticism.

This is why the 2026 verdict matters. BNP’s victory signaled a rejection of politics that tethered Bangladesh to external patrons—whether Eastern or Western—at the expense of national agency. There had been whispers, even subtle encouragement from abroad, that political Islamist parties could serve as leverage in reshaping Bangladesh’s strategic direction. Interim arrangements, opaque economic understandings, and one-sided concessions were floated as necessities of “stability.” Voters rejected that script.

Instead, they rallied behind a manifesto anchored in a simple phrase: “Bangladesh First.” It is an unpretentious motto, yet it carries historical weight. Nations that survive turbulent neighborhoods learn to place sovereignty above sentiment.

BNP’s 51-point manifesto reads less like a revolutionary tract and more like a technocratic repair manual. Nine priority pledges form what Tarique Rahman calls a social compact. Family Cards for marginalized households. Farmer Cards to guarantee fair prices. The recruitment of 100,000 health workers. Education reform aimed at skills rather than slogans. These are not dramatic gestures; they are instruments of statecraft.

The governance plank is even more telling. Zero-tolerance anti-corruption measures. Real-time audits. Open tenders. An ombudsman. Institutional accountability. A Truth and Healing Commission to investigate abuses of the prior era. Such proposals reveal a party conscious of its own past and wary of repeating it. BNP’s earlier tenure, after all, was not immune to allegations of graft or political favoritism. The electorate’s generosity comes with expectation—and memory.

Economically, the ambitions are muscular: transforming Chattogram and Mongla ports into logistics hubs, generating 35,000 megawatts of power by 2030, reviewing rental power contracts, expanding digital payments, and granting autonomy to capital market regulators. These are state-building measures. They suggest a government that understands infrastructure as geopolitical leverage.

But beyond policy details lies the deeper significance of the landslide. Bangladesh has experienced what might be called a democratic reset. The ouster of Sheikh Hasina in 2024 created uncertainty; the 2026 election restored procedural legitimacy. BNP’s commanding majority ensures constitutional reform without dependence on Islamist blocs. Jamaat, with its 63 seats, remains a vocal opposition—but not a kingmaker.

That arithmetic matters. It prevents the ideological overreach many feared. It assures regional partners that Dhaka’s compass will not swing unpredictably toward Islamabad or any other capital.

Geopolitically, recalibration is inevitable. India will watch closely, particularly along the sensitive Siliguri Corridor, where Chinese infrastructure ambitions intersect with security anxieties. China, for its part, will continue courting Bangladesh through development financing. The United States will advocate democratic consolidation. Pakistan may hope for warmer rhetoric.

The test for BNP is to engage all without submitting to any. “Bangladesh First” must not become a slogan of isolation. It should mean reciprocity. Bilateral relations that are balanced, not submissive. Trade agreements that protect national interest. Security cooperation that respects sovereignty. Diplomatic warmth without strategic dependency.

The electorate has drawn a boundary: no more experiments with ideological radicalism; no more opaque deals conducted in the name of expediency. Voters demanded transparency in governance and clarity in foreign policy. They demanded that Bangladesh be neither a pawn nor a proxy.

Gen-Z’s role in this shift cannot be overstated. In cafés and campuses, on encrypted messaging platforms and street rallies, they debated constitutional amendments with the same intensity once reserved for football matches. They do not romanticize 1971 through inherited narratives alone; they reinterpret it as a mandate for pluralism. Their rejection of pro-Pakistan politics was not born of hostility toward Pakistanis as people, but of resistance to any ideology that diminishes Bangladesh’s independent identity.

The coming years will determine whether BNP can translate mandate into reform. Anti-corruption drives must avoid becoming instruments of vengeance. Welfare pledges must survive fiscal scrutiny. Institutional autonomy must be real, not rhetorical. And foreign policy must reflect maturity rather than muscle-flexing.

Still, elections are moments of moral clarity. On February 12, 2026, Bangladesh chose equilibrium over extremism, democracy over doctrinaire politics, and sovereignty over subtle subservience.

The lesson is larger than party lines. A nation that fought for linguistic and political freedom will not casually surrender it to ideological nostalgia or external choreography. The electorate has spoken in the firm language of ballots rather than barricades.

If BNP remembers that its victory was less about triumph and more about trust, Bangladesh may indeed enter a new era—one defined not by tilts toward distant capitals but by confidence at home. Bangladesh First. Not as defiance. As discipline.

M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com

  This article published at :

1. New Age, BD : 14 February, 26

2. Daily Observer, BD : 14 February, 26

3. New Delhi Post, India: 13 February, 26

4. Weekly Blitz, BD : 13 February,26

Bangladesh's Trade Pact With US: A Strategic Shift By An Interim Administration?

M A Hossain 

Trade agreements are never just about tariffs. They are about power. They define alignments, redraw strategic boundaries, and quietly decide which way a nation tilts when the great powers begin to lean. The newly signed United States–Bangladesh Agreement on Reciprocal Trade, concluded under the Yunus-led interim government, is not merely a commercial arrangement. It is a geopolitical document.

And it may prove to be one of the most consequential strategic shifts in Bangladesh’s modern history.

On paper, the agreement reduces reciprocal tariffs on Bangladeshi goods to 19% and opens American markets to certain textile products tied to U.S. cotton imports. In exchange, Bangladesh grants broad preferential access to U.S. industrial and agricultural goods, commits to regulatory reforms, aligns export controls, facilitates cross-border data flows, and signals large-scale procurement of American aircraft, energy, and defense equipment.

This is being sold as reciprocity. But geopolitics rarely runs on equal footing.

The most profound shift lies in Section 4 — the economic and national security alignment provisions. Bangladesh commits to adopting complementary restrictive measures if the United States introduces trade or border actions deemed necessary for its national security. It agrees to cooperate on export controls and align policies on sensitive technologies.

Translated into strategic reality, this means that Bangladesh is tying its external economic conduct to U.S. geopolitical priorities.

Narrowing Dhaka's Choices

Consider the broader Indo-Pacific environment. The United States is locked in systemic competition with China. Sanctions regimes are expanding. Technology export controls are tightening. Supply chains are being reorganized along political lines. Under this agreement, if Washington escalates restrictions against Beijing — whether in semiconductors, telecommunications equipment, or dual-use technologies — Dhaka is expected to follow.

Bangladesh has historically practiced a careful balancing act. It has welcomed Chinese infrastructure investment under the Belt and Road Initiative. It has sourced military hardware from multiple partners. It has relied on Russia for nuclear energy cooperation at Rooppur. It has maintained economic ties with India and the European Union. This diversification has been a rational survival strategy for a middle-sized developing state situated in a geopolitically sensitive region.

The agreement narrows that strategic bandwidth.

The nuclear clause illustrates the point with unusual clarity. Bangladesh may not purchase nuclear reactors, fuel rods, or enriched uranium from any country that jeopardizes essential U.S. interests, except under limited conditions. The language is diplomatically framed, but the implication is unmistakable: future nuclear cooperation with Russia — or potentially with other disfavored states — could become treaty-inconsistent.

Defense and Digital Dependence 

Energy security is a pillar of national sovereignty. Limiting supplier options in advance weakens negotiating leverage. It signals that Bangladesh’s strategic autonomy in critical infrastructure decisions is conditional.

Then comes defense alignment. The pact states that Bangladesh shall endeavor to increase purchases of U.S. military equipment and limit purchases from certain countries. Again, no specific weapons systems are listed. But the policy direction is unmistakable: a gradual reorientation of Bangladesh’s defense procurement ecosystem.

Defense supply chains are not transactional; they create long-term dependencies. Training systems, maintenance contracts, spare parts, software updates — all bind the purchasing state to the supplier for decades. By structurally privileging one supplier, Bangladesh risks narrowing its defense diplomacy options and complicating relationships with other partners.

In the Bay of Bengal — a region of increasing strategic contestation involving India, China, the United States, and regional actors — such alignment will not go unnoticed. Bangladesh may find itself perceived less as a neutral economic partner and more as a strategic node within a U.S.-aligned framework. Perception, in geopolitics, shapes reaction.

The digital trade provisions add another layer to this transformation. Bangladesh commits to permitting free cross-border data transfers and refrains from imposing customs duties on electronic transmissions. It also risks termination of the pact if it enters into a digital trade agreement with a country deemed to jeopardize essential U.S. interests.

Data governance is now a frontline geopolitical issue. The United States promotes open data flows; China emphasizes digital sovereignty; the European Union champions regulatory control and privacy regimes. By locking into one model under treaty obligations, Bangladesh reduces its room to experiment with hybrid frameworks tailored to domestic interests.

Digital dependence is subtler than military dependence, but no less consequential. When cloud infrastructure, fintech platforms, artificial intelligence services, and data storage ecosystems are aligned with a particular geopolitical bloc, policy flexibility shrinks.

The procurement undertakings further entrench structural alignment. Fourteen Boeing aircraft. Fifteen billion dollars in LNG over 15 years. Billions in agricultural imports. Expanded defense purchases. These are framed as “endeavors,” yet they are quantified and embedded in treaty annexes.

This resembles managed trade — commerce guided by strategic objectives rather than pure market dynamics. For the United States, the arrangement strengthens export industries and deepens bilateral dependence. For Bangladesh, it commits scarce foreign exchange to pre-structured flows.

What happens if global LNG markets shift and cheaper alternatives emerge? What if aviation demand patterns change? What if agricultural sourcing from regional suppliers becomes more efficient? Treaty-embedded expectations complicate recalibration.

Perhaps most concerning is the enforcement asymmetry. If consultations fail and Washington determines non-compliance, it may reimpose reciprocal tariffs on Bangladeshi imports. In practice, the United States retains interpretive authority and enforcement leverage. Bangladesh bears the export vulnerability.

In strategic terms, this creates a disciplining mechanism. Economic penalties can be activated if Dhaka’s policies drift from Washington’s expectations. That is not an equal partnership; it is conditional alignment.

All of this would be consequential even under a fully elected government with a clear popular mandate. It becomes more troubling under an interim administration. Trade and security alignments of this magnitude shape a nation’s geopolitical posture for decades. They influence relations with China, Russia, India, the European Union, and ASEAN. They affect bargaining positions in multilateral forums. They alter perceptions among investors and strategic planners.

After the completion of 13 th parliamentary election,  the elected governments will inherit this architecture. They will face a choice: comply and accept narrowed autonomy, or attempt renegotiation and risk economic retaliation.

Tilt Towards A Geopolitical Axis

None of this suggests that Bangladesh should distance itself from the United States. Strong relations with Washington are valuable. Market access matters. Regulatory modernization can be beneficial. Labor and environmental reforms are necessary.

But sovereign states thrive when they preserve strategic optionality. The art of middle-power diplomacy lies in maximizing partnerships without surrendering independence.

The agreement, as structured, tilts Bangladesh decisively toward one geopolitical axis. It embeds economic commitments within a security alignment framework. It links trade access to policy conformity. It narrows diversification in energy and defense. It institutionalizes digital openness without reciprocal safeguards.

In the short term, tariff relief may ease export pressures. In the long term, the cost may be reduced maneuvering space in an increasingly polarized world.

Trade agreements are rarely reversed. Strategic alignments, once formalized, become the scaffolding of foreign policy. The Yunus government may believe it secured economic stability under pressure. But stability purchased at the expense of strategic autonomy is a fragile bargain.

History teaches that small and mid-sized states survive great-power competition not by choosing sides prematurely, but by retaining the freedom to navigate among them. This agreement does not expand Bangladesh’s choices. It contracts them. And in geopolitics, contracted choices often become constrained futures.

M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com

This article published at :

1. South Asia Monitor, India : 13 Feb,26

Trade deal that mortgages the future

M A Hossain, 

In the quiet corridors of Washington, far from the anxieties of Dhaka’s election season, an agreement was signed that may shape Bangladesh’s economic sovereignty for decades. It was presented as a breakthrough — a reciprocal trade pact promising “unprecedented access,” lower tariffs, and deeper cooperation. But beneath the diplomatic language and polished press releases lies a document that reads less like a partnership and more like a strategic lock-in.

The Yunus-led interim government may argue that it rescued Bangladesh from punitive tariffs and secured a stable trade channel with the United States. That is the headline. The fine print tells a different story.

At its core, this agreement is asymmetrical. The United States reduces reciprocal tariffs to 19 percent — not zero — while Bangladesh grants broad preferential access to its industrial, agricultural, digital, and strategic sectors. Dhaka’s market opens wide; Washington’s remains selectively ajar. Reciprocity, it seems, has been redefined.

Take the digital trade provisions. Bangladesh is prohibited from imposing customs duties on electronic transmissions and must permit the free transfer of data across borders. On the surface, this aligns with global digital trade norms. In practice, it means that data generated by 175 million Bangladeshis — commercial, financial, behavioral — can flow freely to U.S. platforms without meaningful restrictions.

Data is not a trivial commodity. It is the oil of the modern economy. Countries from India to the European Union have wrestled fiercely over data localization and digital sovereignty. Yet Bangladesh, under an unelected interim government, has conceded its leverage without a national debate. Once such commitments are embedded in a binding trade treaty, reversing them becomes diplomatically and economically costly.

More troubling still is Section 4 — the economic and national security alignment clause. Here the language shifts from commerce to geopolitics.

If the United States imposes trade or security measures against a third country, Bangladesh must adopt “complementary restrictive measures.” In plain terms: if Washington sanctions a country, Dhaka is expected to follow suit. Export controls must align. Sensitive technology flows must mirror U.S. priorities.

That is not neutral trade policy. That is strategic alignment.

For a country that has historically balanced relations among China, India, Russia, and the West, this clause narrows maneuvering space dramatically. Bangladesh’s economic rise has depended on diversified partnerships. Cheap raw materials from China, infrastructure cooperation with multiple partners, energy support from Russia — these were pragmatic choices of a developing economy. Under the new framework, such pragmatism risks becoming non-compliance.

The nuclear provision is particularly stark. Bangladesh may not purchase nuclear reactors, fuel rods, or enriched uranium from any country that “jeopardizes essential U.S. interests,” except under narrow conditions. The Rooppur Nuclear Power Plant — built with Russian assistance — stands as a symbol of Bangladesh’s energy diversification. Future expansions or similar partnerships could now collide with treaty obligations.

Energy security is not an abstract concern. Bangladesh’s industrial growth depends on stable, affordable power. Restricting supplier options in advance is not strategic foresight; it is strategic confinement.

Then there is Section 5 — the procurement undertakings. Official language softens them as “shall endeavor” clauses. But when specific numbers are embedded — 14 Boeing aircraft, $15 billion in LNG over 15 years, $3.5 billion in agricultural imports — the distinction between best-effort and obligation becomes largely semantic.

Biman Bangladesh Airlines is to facilitate the purchase of 14 Boeing aircraft. Energy entities are to pursue long-term LNG contracts valued at $15 billion. Agricultural imports of wheat, soy, cotton, and corn are quantified. Military procurement from the United States is to increase, while purchases from certain countries are to be limited.

This is not free trade in the classical sense. It resembles managed trade — a system in which commercial flows are guided not solely by market need, but by diplomatic commitment.

What happens if future governments determine that LNG from another supplier is cheaper? What if global grain prices shift? What if aviation market conditions change and fleet diversification becomes economically prudent? The treaty framework constrains flexibility. Policy becomes pre-negotiated.

Defenders of the agreement will say these are voluntary commercial signals, not binding mandates. Yet the enforcement mechanism tells a harder truth. If consultations fail and the United States believes Bangladesh is not complying, Washington may reimpose reciprocal tariffs on some or all Bangladeshi imports.

In effect, the United States retains the authority to judge compliance and enforce penalties. Bangladesh bears the commercial consequences. That imbalance is structural.

The most profound issue, however, is political legitimacy. This agreement was concluded during an interim administration. Trade treaties are not routine administrative acts; they shape industrial policy, foreign alignment, energy sourcing, digital governance, and defense procurement for decades. They are instruments of national strategy.

When an unelected or transitional government makes commitments of this magnitude, it binds future elected governments to frameworks they did not negotiate. The next administration — whatever its political complexion — will inherit obligations that narrow its choices. Renegotiation, if attempted, risks economic retaliation.

History offers cautionary examples. From Latin American states locked into disadvantageous commodity arrangements to small nations pressured into strategic alignments during the Cold War, asymmetrical trade deals often outlive the governments that signed them. Undoing them proves far harder than signing them.

Bangladesh is not powerless. It is one of the world’s leading garment exporters. Its labor force is young. Its strategic location in the Bay of Bengal grants it geopolitical relevance. It could have negotiated a phased, balanced arrangement tied strictly to tariff relief. Instead, it accepted a broad-spectrum framework intertwining trade with security alignment and procurement undertakings.

None of this argues against engagement with the United States. Strong economic ties with Washington are valuable. Diversified partnerships are prudent. Labor and environmental reforms are necessary. Digital modernization is inevitable.

But partnership must not mean dependency.

A sovereign trade policy should preserve optionality — the ability to source energy competitively, to choose defense suppliers based on national interest, to regulate digital flows in accordance with domestic priorities, and to conduct foreign policy without automatic alignment clauses.

The Yunus government may believe it acted pragmatically under tariff pressure. Yet in seeking short-term relief, it may have mortgaged long-term flexibility. The agreement’s architecture embeds strategic concessions in exchange for tariff adjustments that remain partial and conditional.

The next government of Bangladesh will confront a difficult inheritance: comply and accept constrained autonomy, or challenge provisions and risk economic retaliation. Trade agreements should expand opportunity. This one narrows choice. And in geopolitics, the narrowing of choice is rarely a prelude to prosperity.

M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com

   This article published at :

1. New Age, BD : 13 February, 26

2. The Daily Guardian, India: 13 Feb, 26

3. Daily Observer, BD : 13 Feb, 26

What the US–Iran talks really signal

M A Hossain, 

The talks between the United States and Iran in Muscat have been greeted with the usual ritual of overinterpretation. Optimists see the faint outline of renewed diplomacy. Pessimists detect another episode of strategic theater. Both camps miss the point. These discussions are neither a revival of détente nor a prelude to a grand bargain. They are something narrower, colder, and in some ways more unsettling: a mechanism for managing escalation in a region where deterrence is fraying and clocks are ticking.

The history provides an important reminder. The United States and the Soviet Union communicated regularly throughout the Cold War, even during extremely tense moments. The solution to the Cuban Missile Crisis wasn't due to either party trusting the other, but because they spoke with each other regularly. The Muscat channel is in that tradition; it is not a bridge to restorations of friendships, but a means by which disasters are prevented.

The conditions for a comprehensive U.S.-Iran agreement simply do not exist. The nuclear deal of 2015 was possible because interests briefly aligned: Iran sought sanctions relief, the U.S. sought nonproliferation, and regional spoilers were momentarily sidelined. That alignment is gone. Tehran’s threat perception has deepened, Washington’s domestic politics have hardened, and the Middle East itself is more volatile than it was a decade ago. Against that backdrop, expecting Muscat to deliver a breakthrough misunderstands both sides’ incentives.

What does exist is a shared recognition of cost. Neither Washington nor Tehran believes that immediate confrontation would be clean, contained, or strategically decisive. Deterrence still operates, but it operates badly. Each side doubts the other’s restraint. Each assumes malign intent. That is precisely when miscalculation becomes most likely.

Oman’s role is therefore not incidental. Muscat has long specialized in low-visibility diplomacy, from secret U.S.-Iran contacts before the 2015 deal to regional mediation that rarely makes headlines. Its value lies in discretion. The talks allow messages to be passed without political ownership, red lines to be tested without public commitments, and pauses to be engineered without admitting weakness. In a region addicted to symbolism, that matters.

Iran’s participation should not be mistaken for moderation. From Tehran’s perspective, U.S. demands strike at the heart of its deterrence architecture. The nuclear program functions as strategic insurance, a hedge against regime-threatening pressure. Missile capabilities compensate for conventional inferiority. Regional networks provide depth defense, extending Iran’s reach beyond its borders. To compromise meaningfully on any of these would be, in Iranian eyes, to invite vulnerability.

Engagement, then, is tactical. It buys time. It dilutes pressure. It shifts the burden of escalation onto Washington. This is not new. During the Iran-Iraq War, Tehran accepted ceasefires and negotiations when expedient, only to resume pressure when conditions improved. Survival, not reconciliation, has always been the regime’s organizing principle.

For the United States, the logic is parallel but inverted. The talks preserve decision space. They demonstrate restraint to allies, Congress, and international partners. They establish that diplomacy was tried, which matters enormously if escalation later becomes unavoidable. In this sense, diplomacy functions less as a solution than as a prerequisite. Before force can be justified, process must be exhausted.

Israel complicates this equation. It acts as a strategic accelerator, not because it seeks a full-scale regional war, but because it views time differently. For Jerusalem, Iran’s nuclear progress is not an abstract future risk; it is a narrowing window. Israeli leaders, across political divides, have consistently framed the issue as approaching a point of no return. That framing exerts pressure on Washington, shortening diplomatic timelines and raising the cost of delay.

This tension—between escalation control and escalation momentum—defines the current moment. The United States wants to slow the clock. Israel wants to speed it up. Iran wants to obscure it. The result is a brittle equilibrium.

Three scenarios now shape the horizon. The first is managed de-escalation, and it is the most likely. Talks continue without agreement. Informal understandings limit escalation. Proxy activity remains calibrated rather than unleashed. Shipping lanes are harassed but not closed. Red lines are probed but not crossed. Stability persists, but it is stability without resolution, the kind that depends on constant vigilance and quiet coordination.

The second scenario is a limited military strike. A perceived diplomatic failure, an intelligence revelation, or an Israeli action could trigger a targeted operation—cyber, air, or covert. Iran would respond indirectly, activating proxies across multiple theaters while avoiding actions that force a direct U.S. response. Deterrence would be reset, but at a higher level of risk. History suggests such episodes rarely end where planners expect them to.

The third scenario is unintended escalation, and it is the most dangerous precisely because no one intends it. A misread signal. A proxy commander acting autonomously. A strike that goes further than anticipated. The First World War did not begin because Europe wanted annihilation; it began because systems failed under pressure. The Middle East today is saturated with those same pressures: compressed timelines, fragmented authority, and deep mistrust.

The greatest risk, then, lies not in deliberate war but in misjudgment. Leaders may believe they are signaling resolve when they are, in fact, signaling provocation. They may assume control over actors who operate on local logics and incentives. They may underestimate how quickly events can outrun intentions.

There are early warning indicators worth watching. The suspension or downgrading of the Muscat channel would suggest that escalation management is breaking down. Sudden shifts in U.S. or Israeli military readiness, especially if unexplained, would signal preparation for contingencies. Coordinated intelligence leaks about nuclear timelines often precede political decisions. Unattributed proxy escalations across multiple fronts may indicate either testing behavior or loss of central control.

None of this should be read as fatalism. Escalation can still be managed. Time can still be bought. But time is not neutral. It can be used to stabilize, or it can be used to prepare for conflict. The Muscat talks are about creating space. What fills that space remains an open question.

The uncomfortable truth is that the Middle East’s next shock is unlikely to announce itself with a declaration of war. It will emerge from ambiguity, from actions taken to avoid conflict that nonetheless make it more likely. Diplomacy, in this context, is not a path to peace. It is a holding pattern.

And holding patterns end. The Muscat talks are not about reconciliation. They are not about trust. They are about time. And in today’s Middle East, time is the most valuable—and the most fragile—strategic asset of all.

M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com

This article published at :

1. The Jakarta Post, Indonesia: 11 Feb, 26

Can Bangladesh Disarm the Fear Before Election?

M A Hossain, 

The severe threat to the transition to democracy in Bangladesh today is the loss of the state's monopoly on violence. As the nation moves toward a long-awaited parliamentary election, the unresolved recovery of looted firearms—and the violence already unfolding around it—poses a serious and unmistakable danger to law, order, and electoral credibility.

During the mass uprising and ensuing state instability, police stations, security installations, and prisons were overrun. Weapons meant to protect citizens fell into the wrong hands. Although authorities report that a large portion has been recovered, the numbers that remain missing should alarm any serious observer: approximately 1,333 firearms and more than 200,000 rounds of ammunition are still unaccounted for. These are not symbolic losses. They include rifles, submachine guns, light machine guns, pistols, and shotguns—tools of lethal efficiency, now circulating beyond state control.

That this concern is being voiced openly by senior Election Commission officials matters. This is not bureaucratic pessimism. It is a warning about election-time security from those constitutionally tasked with safeguarding the vote.

History offers a harsh lesson here. Elections held amid uncontrolled weapons rarely remain peaceful. From post-Soviet states in the 1990s to fragile democracies in Africa and Latin America, the pattern repeats: when arms seep into politics, ballots lose meaning. Bangladesh is not immune to this logic.

The violence already underway suggests the danger is not hypothetical. In recent weeks alone, shootings and targeted killings have taken place across Dhaka, Chattogram, Gazipur, Narsingdi, Jashore, and Shariatpur. Political figures, activists, and businessmen have been gunned down in public spaces. Explosions linked to homemade bombs and cocktails—some apparently prepared for campaign-related sabotage—have killed young men and destroyed homes. Election offices have been torched. Buses set on fire. Threats issued openly, often online. These are not isolated crimes. They form a pattern: the re-emergence of armed violence as a political instrument.

Human rights data reinforces the point. Last year alone, political violence claimed over a hundred lives, injured thousands, and mob lynchings killed nearly two hundred people. This year has begun no differently. In just the first week, four people were killed in shooting incidents. Mob violence—often dismissed as spontaneous rage—has become a parallel threat, fueled by the same atmosphere of impunity and weapon availability.

The police insist that unrecovered weapons will not disrupt the election. As an administrative reassurance, it sounds calming. As an empirical claim, it is deeply questionable. Since the looting of state arms, incidents of robbery, extortion, contract killings, and political intimidation have visibly increased. When criminals hold state-grade weapons, the risk is not episodic—it is structural.

Consider the psychology of elections. Voters participate when they feel safe. Candidates campaign when they believe the state can protect them. Today, at least twenty political leaders from different parties have formally requested personal security. One prominent candidate was seen publicly wearing a bulletproof vest while addressing supporters. This is not theatre. It is fear, made visible.

The interim government has not been idle. Operations under the banner of “Devil Hunt” were launched, arrests made, and statements issued. Nearly 16,000 people have been detained in recent phases. Yet the uncomfortable truth is that the recovery rate of weapons remains low, and the number of professional, high-profile criminals apprehended is even lower. Only a few hundred weapons were seized—barely scratching the surface of what remains missing. This raises a harder question: is the state chasing numbers, or dismantling networks?

Effective weapons recovery requires more than raids. It demands intelligence-led policing, inter-agency coordination, mapping of trafficking routes, and a clear understanding of who rents weapons, who supplies them, and who shields them. At present, these structures appear fragmented. The result is a dangerous blind spot—no one knows with certainty where the missing arms are, who controls them, or how they might be deployed during the campaign. That uncertainty alone is destabilizing.

Compounding the risk is the release on bail of several top-tier criminals, many of whom have returned to their old networks. Add to this the fact that prisoners escaped during the July unrest remain at large, and the security picture darkens further. In politics, perception often matters as much as reality. And the prevailing perception is one of vulnerability.

The stakes are high. The February election is not merely a procedural exercise; it is a test of Bangladesh’s democratic recovery. A vote conducted under fear—of shootings, arson, or retaliation—is a vote already compromised. Turnout declines. Trust erodes. Losers reject outcomes. Winners inherit legitimacy deficits. Responsibility, therefore, does not rest with law enforcement alone. It is a state obligation.

What should be done is neither radical nor unprecedented. First, the recovery of looted weapons must be declared a national priority, not one task among many. Second, intelligence coordination between police, military, border forces, and financial investigators must be tightened to disrupt arms markets and rental networks. Third, border areas and urban hotspots require enhanced surveillance, not sporadic patrols. Fourth, informant protection and reward mechanisms must be credible enough to encourage cooperation without fear of reprisal.

Equally important is political restraint. Campaigns cannot become pretexts for intimidation. Parties must actively discourage violence among their supporters. Silence, in this context, is complicity. The monopoly over force is the foundation of the modern state. Lose it, and everything else—law, rights, elections—becomes negotiable. Bangladesh still has time to prevent that outcome. But time, like ammunition, is not infinite.

A peaceful election is not a courtesy to political actors. It is the minimum requirement of a civilized society. And the first step toward that peace is simple, though difficult: the state’s weapons must return to the state’s hands. Delay that task, and the cost may be measured not just in lives lost, but in a democracy weakened before it can fully stand.

M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com

  This article published at :

1. The South Asian Times, NY: 06 Feb,26

The US -India Trade Deal That Isn’t

M A Hossain,

When Donald Trump announces a “historic deal,” the room vibrates with superlatives. When Narendra Modi responds, the quiet is more telling than the words. Their latest exchange—a claimed swap of Russian oil for U.S. tariff cuts—is a masterclass in asymmetrical communication. It invites a basic but necessary question: is this a genuine geopolitical pivot by India, or another episode of Trumpian trade theater dressed up as strategy?

Rhetoric vs. Reality

Trump's claim is simple. The US would lower tariffs on Indian goods from 25% to 18% following a conversation with Modi. In exchange, India would pledge to buy more than $500 billion worth of U.S. energy, technology, coal, agriculture, and other products, stop purchasing Russian oil, and remove all tariffs and non-tariff barriers on American goods. Trump presented the agreement as a victory for friendship, commerce, and even peace—more especially, peace in Ukraine.

Modi confirmed the tariff reduction and welcomed improved trade relations. What he did not confirm matters more than what he did. There was no endorsement of the claim that India would fully cut off Russian oil. In diplomacy, silence is rarely accidental. It is often the policy.

Energy Security as a Non-Negotiable Principle

India’s position on energy has been consistent since the start of the Ukraine war. Energy security is national security. India is the world’s third-largest oil importer. Its energy mix cannot afford ideological purity. When Western governments pushed New Delhi to avoid Russian oil in 2022, India refused. It made the right claim that the world's energy markets were unstable and that its main duty was to shield domestic consumers from supply shocks and inflation. India's foreign ministry publicly refuted Trump's similar assertion in late 2025 that India had pledged to cease purchasing Russian oil. Since then, the reasoning has still been the same.

What has changed is degree, not direction. India has begun to reduce its imports of Russian crude. From roughly 1.2 million barrels per day earlier this year, imports are projected to fall toward 800,000 barrels per day in the coming months. That is a notable decline. But it is not a rupture. It looks less like capitulation and more like diversification—something India has done before, reducing and later increasing purchases depending on price and availability.

This distinction matters. Cutting Russian oil to zero would represent a strategic break. Reducing dependence is a tactical adjustment. The former would signal alignment. The latter preserves autonomy. India has been explicit for decades about preferring the second.

Scale, Sanctions, and Tariffs

Trump’s framing also relies on a familiar assumption: that reducing Russian oil revenue meaningfully weakens Moscow and hastens the end of the Ukraine war. This belief has intuitive appeal and limited empirical support. Russia has demonstrated remarkable adaptability in rerouting energy exports. Discounted barrels still find buyers. Global oil markets are fluid; supply rarely goes unsold for long. Even a significant reduction by India would not isolate Russia from energy revenue, especially when other buyers remain willing.

There is also the matter of scale. Trump’s claim that India will purchase over $500 billion worth of U.S. goods should give even sympathetic listeners pause. Total U.S. exports to India do not approach that figure annually. Even spread over a decade, it would require a dramatic restructuring of India’s trade patterns and domestic policy. These numbers function less as contracts and more as signals—expressions of intent rather than binding commitments.

Tariffs themselves deserve scrutiny. A reduction from 25% to 18% is meaningful but limited. It is not a free trade. Trump’s assertion that India will reduce all tariffs and non-tariff barriers to zero is, at best, aspirational. India has long protected sensitive sectors, particularly agriculture. Eliminating barriers across the board would amount to a reversal of decades of economic policy. Such transformations are negotiated painstakingly over years, not announced on social media.

Strategic Autonomy 

For Trump, the incentives are obvious. He gets to claim tariffs work. He gets to present himself as tough on Russia. He reinforces his preferred self-image as the dealmaker who extracts concessions from reluctant partners. The announcement checks domestic political boxes regardless of what eventually materializes.

For Modi, the incentives are more complex. India wants lower U.S. tariffs and greater access to American markets. It wants stronger technology and defense ties with Washington, even as it maintains long-standing military cooperation with Russia. Above all, it wants strategic autonomy—the freedom to make decisions without appearing to take orders from any great power. That priority has shaped Indian foreign policy since the Cold War, and it has not been abandoned.

Modi’s calibrated response reflects this. He praised improved relations, welcomed tariff reductions, and spoke of peace and cooperation. He did not echo claims that would box India into a rigid energy posture. That restraint preserves flexibility. It reassures domestic audiences. It signals to Moscow that diversification is not abandonment. And it reminds Washington that partnership does not equal subordination.

The broader context matters. The United States increasingly views India as central to its strategy in Asia—both as a counterweight to China and as a node in restructured global supply chains. That reality gives India leverage. Negotiations, not diktats, are the natural outcome of that leverage. Pressure is being applied on both sides, and both are trying to maximize advantage.

So what is actually happening? Most likely, a mixture of real movement and political theater. India is gradually reducing Russian oil imports while expanding options with the United States and others. The United States is offering tariff relief while testing how far India is willing to go. Trump is claiming victory early. Modi is keeping his options open.

None of this amounts to a dramatic geopolitical realignment. It is bargaining, not betrayal. The danger lies in mistaking rhetoric for reality. Announcements can shape expectations, but policy is shaped by constraints—economic, political, and strategic.

India’s relationship with Russia will evolve, but it will not be dictated by a 7% tariff adjustment. Nor will India’s partnership with the United States be strengthened by overpromising and underdelivering. Durable alignment is built on clarity, not exaggeration.

In the end, the most reasonable conclusion is also the least dramatic. Negotiations are ongoing. Energy diversification is continuing. Political narratives are being tested. The rest is spin.

   

M A Hossain is a senior journalist and international affairs analyst based in Bangladesh.

This article published at :

1. Asia Times, HK : 04 February, 26

2. The South Asia Times, USA : 05 Feb, 26

3. The Nation, Pak : 09 Feb, 26

The Last Mile of Governance: Can Bangladesh Deliver This Ramadan?

M A Hossain, 

There's a peculiar ritual that plays out each year in Bangladesh as the holy month of Ramadan approaches—a ritual that has little to do with spiritual preparation and everything to do with economic anxiety. The middle class tightens its belt. The poor calculate impossible budgets. And somewhere in the shadows, a syndicate of merchants sharpens its pencils, ready to exploit faith itself for profit.

This year, government officials promised us that it will be different. They point to import figures: 40 percent more essential commodities than last year. They cite stockpiles: sugar, cooking oil, chickpeas, onions, dates—all supposedly abundant. The Trading Corporation of Bangladesh assures us. The Ministry of Commerce backs them up. On paper, there is no crisis.

But here's the uncomfortable truth that history teaches us, again and again: in Bangladesh, having goods in warehouses and having them reach ordinary citizens at fair prices are two entirely different propositions.

Consider the logic of it. If scarcity were truly the problem, then abundance would be the solution. Yet we've witnessed this farce before—ample stocks sitting in godowns while markets spiral into chaos, prices climbing not because supplies have vanished but because a few well-connected operators have decided they should. The invisible hand of the market, it turns out, sometimes wears brass knuckles.

The pattern is numbingly familiar. A merchant here whispers about "shortages." A trader there holds back stock for a few strategic days. Suddenly, panic purchasing begins. Prices jump. Government officials scramble to respond, often too late, always reactive rather than proactive. By the time mobile courts raid a few warehouses for cameras, the damage is done—the syndicates have made their money, and ordinary families have paid the price.

What makes this year's governmental assurances particularly interesting is the context. Dr. Muhammad Yunus's administration earned considerable goodwill during last year's Ramadan by achieving something that sounds almost mundane but felt revolutionary: they kept the lights on. During iftar and sehri—the times when families gather to break their fast and eat before dawn—electricity flowed uninterrupted. In the suffocating heat of a Bangladeshi summer, this wasn't a luxury; it was a lifeline. The market remained relatively stable, too, which only amplified the sense that competent governance was possible after all.

This created expectations. Dangerous expectations, perhaps, because they suggested that the dysfunction we'd normalized for years wasn't inevitable but chosen—or at least tolerated.

Here we must draw on historical parallels, because Bangladesh's predicament during Ramadan isn't unique. Consider Weimar Germany's experience with hyperinflation in the early 1920s. The fundamental issue wasn't merely monetary policy gone haywire; it was the complete collapse of public trust in institutions meant to safeguard economic stability. When people lose faith that their government can or will protect them from predatory economic behavior, markets don't just become unstable—they become theaters of anxiety where every transaction carries existential weight.

Bangladesh isn't experiencing hyperinflation, thankfully. But the psychological mechanism is similar: when families approach Ramadan uncertain whether they'll afford basic items for religious observance, they're not just worried about budgets. They're confronting a fundamental question about whether their government functions for them or for the connected few who manipulate scarcity like marionette strings.

The current administration faces what we might call the "last mile problem" of governance. Import statistics and warehouse inventories represent the easy part—the quantifiable, trackable aspect of policy. Ensuring those goods actually reach neighborhood markets at reasonable prices? That requires something far more difficult: the political will to confront powerful business interests, the administrative capacity to enforce regulations, and the sustained attention to make monitoring meaningful rather than performative.

And here's where things get genuinely challenging. Post-election political environments anywhere tend toward distraction. New governments, or governments fresh from electoral contests, naturally focus on consolidating power, managing coalitions, and distributing patronage. Market supervision seems tedious by comparison—until it isn't, until the crisis hits and suddenly everyone wonders why nobody was paying attention.

The reduction of import duties on dates offers an illustrative case study. It's the kind of technocratic adjustment that sounds impressive in press releases: "Government Cuts Tariffs to Ensure Affordable Ramadan." But the crucial question remains: will those tariff reductions translate into lower retail prices, or will middlemen simply pocket the difference? Without robust monitoring mechanisms and genuine consequences for price manipulation, good policy becomes merely good intentions.

This brings us to the uncomfortable reality that markets in developing economies often function less like the idealized competitive systems of economics textbooks and more like extractive political arrangements. The Bangladeshi market for essential commodities isn't characterized by perfect competition; it's characterized by oligopolistic control, with a handful of players able to coordinate behavior precisely because enforcement is weak and political connections run deep.

Breaking that pattern requires more than assurances. It requires visible, consistent action. Mobile courts that don't just raid warehouses during crises but maintain continuous pressure. Pricing transparency that makes manipulation immediately obvious. Most importantly, it requires a demonstrated willingness to prosecute and penalize those who treat public necessity as private opportunity.

The parallel to electricity provision is instructive. Last year's success in maintaining uninterrupted power during Ramadan didn't happen by accident. It required planning, resource allocation, and prioritization. The same principle applies to market management: it's entirely achievable, but only if treated as the political priority it deserves to be.

What makes Ramadan particularly significant in this context is its temporal compression. Unlike general inflation that builds gradually, giving families time to adjust, Ramadan creates a concentrated demand shock. Households need specific items—dates, chickpeas for frying, cooking oil, sugar—all at once. This makes the month simultaneously a test of supply chain competence and a potential bonanza for those inclined toward exploitation.

The government's test, then, isn't really about whether warehouses are full. It's about whether the state possesses sufficient institutional strength to ensure that abundance translates into accessibility—that having enough means people can actually get enough.

Public trust is a fragile commodity, harder to stockpile than sugar or oil. Last Ramadan bought the current administration considerable goodwill. This Ramadan will reveal whether that was a sustainable achievement or a fortunate anomaly.

Citizens aren't asking for miracles. They're asking for competence: markets that function, prices that remain within reach, electricity that flows when families gather. These are modest expectations, which makes it all the more damning when they're not met.

The real question facing Bangladesh this Ramadan isn't whether there's enough food in the country. It's whether there's enough political will to ensure that food reaches those who need it at prices they can afford. Past experience suggests skepticism. Present assurances invite hope. The coming weeks will reveal which instinct was wiser.

For now, we wait—and watch—as the oldest test of governance unfolds once more: can the state protect its citizens from those who would profit from their piety?

M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com

This article published at :

1. The Asian Age, BD : 03 February, 26

2. Country Today, BD : 07 February,26