What kind of president does Bangladesh need?

 

Mohammed Shahabuddin’s less-than-ceremonious exit from the presidency allows the ruling BNP to draw a line under months of ambiguity over two issues. First, his resignation, citing health concerns, brings down the curtain on the last remnant of the Awami League regime still occupying a constitutional office and playing a formal role in the affairs of the state. Second, it removes any grounds for criticism of BNP for having retained him without clarifying whether he would serve out the remainder of his five-year term.

History will likely distinguish between Shahabuddin and the office he occupied. The former president, serving at a crucial time in Bangladesh’s history, exercised limited influence over the transition that followed the 2024 mass uprising. His principal function was to formalise decisions reached by the student leadership, BNP, Jamaat, and the armed forces. It began with supplying the institutional vehicle through which Sheikh Hasina’s ouster was converted into a new governing arrangement. The interim government, as we know, was formed under the authority of the presidency through recourse to Article 106 of the Constitution and the rarely invoked doctrine of necessity. Its ordinances drew their baseline legality from the same source.

After August 5, 2024, the state machinery had been depleted of moral authority and administrative capacity. Bangabhaban became the solitary bridge between the ousted regime, the interim administration led by Dr Muhammad Yunus, and the elected government now led by Tarique Rahman. The mechanism through which power changed hands also helps explain why 2024 is better understood as an uprising than as a revolution.

Recall how the AL government ceased to exist and became, de facto, null and void. Parliament was dissolved. The overarching power structure built around Sheikh Hasina collapsed. Yet, the basic architecture of the state remained intact, with the president continuing in office and providing the constitutional mechanism through which the vacuum created by the absence of the executive branch was addressed. In other words, Bangabhaban enabled the transfer of power without dismantling the organs of the republic. A revolution in the fuller sense would have required the replacement of that architecture and the suspension of the Constitution. Neither occurred.

The resulting settlement was neither ideal nor expressly contemplated by the Constitution. The events from August 5 to August 8, 2024 may continue to face political and judicial scrutiny in the years to come. But it should be acknowledged that leveraging Bangabhaban provided the closest available approximation to a by-the-book transfer of executive power to Dr Yunus. As in the past, the presidency served as the last resort when the constitutional text provided no direct answer. By giving formal expression to the outcome of the uprising, the office also conferred a measure of legitimacy on the interim government.

In a Westminster-derived system, a ceremonial head of state ordinarily acts on the advice of the elected executive, led by the prime minister as head of government. The president embodies the state and serves as a nexus among the three branches of government: the executive, the legislature, and the judiciary. When the executive branch ceases to function, the residual powers of the head of state provide the conventional basis for constituting a new administration. This role resembles the reserve powers of the British monarch. Normally dormant, these powers acquire importance when the chain of executive advice breaks down and the continuity of government comes into question.

Bangabhaban performed that function in August 2024.

The debate now turns to the profile that BNP may seek in its presidential nominee. Its thumping majority in parliament guarantees that its candidate will enter Bangabhaban, so the decision rests with the prime minister and the BNP Standing Committee now. The July charter has clearly raised the stakes. Depending on how fully its proposals are enacted, the reforms will expand the president’s role in appointments to key state bodies and place Bangabhaban at the centre of the process of forming the caretaker government ahead of the next election.

So, what kind of president should BNP seek? Broadly speaking, it has three options for the presidency.

The first is a seasoned BNP leader who commands respect beyond the party. The advantage here would be experience. A veteran politician would understand how crises develop, how parties behave under pressure, and how disputes among competing centres of power escalate. Years in national politics would also ensure cross-party relationships that can be helpful. A potential drawback in this scenario would be public perception of the nominee’s association with BNP. Resignation from any party position before assuming the presidency is a given, but opponents and segments of the public may still view that person through the partisan identity that carried them to Bangabhaban.

Bangladesh’s experience in this case offers mixed lessons. Abdur Rahman Biswas acted firmly to avert a military coup in 1996. By contrast, A.Q.M. Badruddoza Chowdhury resigned in 2002 after losing the confidence of BNP parliamentarians. Both were BNP stalwarts, though their tenures in Bangabhaban unfolded very differently.

The second option for the presidency would be a civil society leader without formal BNP affiliation. The principal advantage would be distance from party politics. Such a nomination would present the presidency as a non-partisan institution rather than a seat reserved for rewarding party loyalty. A candidate from outside mainstream politics could enter Bangabhaban with greater credibility across party lines. The disadvantage, however, would be limited experience in handling crises. Academic distinction, professional achievement, and personal integrity offer only partial preparation for the complexities of dealing with rival parties, senior bureaucrats, security actors, and so on.

Iajuddin Ahmed remains an unfortunate example in this case. A respected academic, he assumed the additional role of chief adviser in 2006 amid criticism from across the political spectrum. He failed to command confidence, and his decisions contributed to the breakdown that culminated in the military-backed takeover of January 2007. His tenure exposed, among other things, the shortcomings of a civil society background unaccompanied by the political acuity required of a president.

The third option would be a senior civil servant, such as a retired secretary to the government, or a former judge. The advantage here would be an inner knowledge of the state machinery. Such a person would understand how political direction translates into bureaucratic implementation and how legal mandates become public policy. The disadvantage would be the outlook formed by a long career inside the bureaucracy. Bangladesh’s civil service is rightly criticised as bloated, insular, and resistant to reform. A former bureaucrat may bring command of procedure while remaining attached to the caution, hierarchy, and inertia that have slowed efforts to modernise public administration.

Justice Shahabuddin Ahmed represents the best case for this profile. He guided Bangladesh from military rule to parliamentary democracy in the early 1990s. When he was elected president in 1996 after being nominated by the AL government, he brought a reputation for neutrality unmatched by his successors.

Mohammed Shahabuddin is the counterexample. His service in the judiciary and the Anti-Corruption Commission gave him the credentials associated with this category. His tenure, however, fell short of the independence associated with Justice Shahabuddin Ahmed and remained clouded by allegations of corruption, abuse of power, and sycophantic subservience to the AL regime.

The fragility of today’s political environment favours a seasoned politician. The next president, in my view, will face five tests. First, the successful nominee must restore the dignity associated with Bangabhaban. Second, they must remain above day-to-day politics while staying attuned to the public mood. Third, they must possess the autonomy and competence to advise, caution, and warn the government when its decisions threaten the national interest. Fourth, they must safeguard Bangladesh’s effort to rebuild the state machinery and return its principal organs to full working order. Fifth, they must serve as a guardian of the spirit of the Constitution.

Since Mohammed Shahabuddin’s resignation, speculation has been rife about who would be his successor. Several names have emerged, but BNP has so far kept any decision closely guarded. One thing is certain, however. Bangladesh is entitled to expect the government to deliver a president with the clean public image that is sacrosanct to the office of head of state.