Can a dynastic heir lead a post-dynasty Bangladesh? | Politics

On Christmas Day this year, Tarique Rahman – the heir apparent of the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) and the man many believe could be the country’s next prime minister – returned home and stepped directly into a power vacuum that has been steadily widening since the collapse of the Awami League government in August 2024.

After 17 years in exile, Rahman’s act of touching the soil was carefully staged for the cameras, but its consequences are structural rather than symbolic. Bangladesh today is a state without a steady pulse, and his return has brought the country’s brief post-revolutionary interlude to an end.

Five days later, on December 30, the political moment hardened into historical finality. Khaleda Zia – the former prime minister and wife of BNP founder and former Bangladesh President Ziaur Rahman – died after a prolonged illness, severing the last living link to the party’s original leadership generation.

Rahman is no longer Khaleda Zia’s successor. He is now the leader of the BNP as it heads towards elections on February 12.

The nation Rahman left in 2008 was fractured; the one he inhabits now is structurally compromised. The hurried flight of Sheikh Hasina to India after the uprising against her ended a decade and a half of autocratic rule but left behind a hollowed-out bureaucracy and a social contract in shreds.

While Muhammad Yunus’s interim administration attempts to manage the transition, street power has already begun to bypass formal authority. In this volatility, Rahman’s presence acts as a high-voltage conductor for the BNP, providing a focal point for an opposition that was, until recently, systematically suppressed.

For millions who viewed the last decade of elections under Hasina’s authoritarian grip as foregone conclusions, Rahman represents the return of choice.

Yet Rahman is no insurgent outsider; he is the ultimate product of the system he seeks to lead. As the son of two former leaders of the country, he carries the weight of a dynastic legacy closely associated with the patronage networks that have long hobbled Bangladeshi governance. His earlier proximity to power was marked by allegations of informal authority and corruption – charges that continue to serve as political ammunition for his detractors. To supporters, he is a victim of judicial overreach; to critics, he is evidence of why Bangladesh’s democratic experiments so often collapse under the weight of elite impunity.

This duality defines the tension of his return. Rahman is now attempting a pivot, trading the rhetoric of street agitation for the measured cadence of a statesman. His recent speeches – emphasizing minority protection, national unity, and the rule of law – suggest a leader acutely aware that the youth who helped dislodge Hasina will not accept a simple change in the identity of the ruling elite.

The BNP he now leads faces a Bangladesh that is more globally integrated and less patient with opaque politics. If Rahman takes power, pressure to reform the judiciary and the Election Commission will be immediate. Without institutional credibility, any mandate he secures will have a dangerously short shelf life.

Economically, Rahman is likely to pursue pragmatic continuity. Bangladesh’s dependence on garment exports and foreign investment leaves little room for ideological experimentation. The real test will be internal discipline. The temptation to settle old scores and reward loyalists through the same rent-seeking channels used by previous regimes will be immense. History suggests this is where Bangladeshi leaders fail – and the country’s current economic fragility leaves no margin for such indulgence.

The most delicate arena, however, will be foreign policy – specifically, relations with India. For years, New Delhi found a predictable, if transactional, partner in Sheikh Hasina. The BNP, by contrast, has long been viewed by Indian security circles with suspicion and strategic unease.

Rahman now appears to be signalling a reset, moving away from nationalist antagonism towards what he describes as “balanced sovereignty”. He understands that while Bangladesh must recalibrate its relationship with India to satisfy domestic sentiment, it cannot afford hostility with its most consequential neighbour. For India, the challenge is accepting that a stable, pluralistic Bangladesh – even under a familiar rival – is preferable to a perpetually unstable one.

Ultimately, Rahman’s return is a stress test not just for Bangladesh, but for the idea of democratic choice in South Asia itself. This is not a simple dynastic succession; it is a reckoning. After years of enforced stability and managed outcomes, the reintroduction of political uncertainty is, paradoxically, a sign of democratic life.

Whether Tarique Rahman uses this opening to rebuild institutions he once bypassed – or reverts to the habits of the past – will determine more than his personal legacy. It will decide whether Bangladesh can finally break its cycle of exile and revenge, or whether it is merely preparing for the next collapse.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.