Is it the usual politics of convenience?
The National Citizen Party's (NCP) decision to enter an electoral alliance with Jamaat-e-Islami has triggered a crisis within its own ranks and among those who once placed great hope in it. While a major segment of the party has rallied behind the move, a number of important members and supporters have voiced disappointment and disillusionment through public resignations and social media statements. For a party that emerged from the July 2024 uprising promising to break with politics as usual, this alliance represents a moment of reckoning.
The resignations of Tasnim Jara and Tajnuva Jabeen have been particularly striking. Both are prominent figures, and their departures alongside criticism from other leaders—especially women—deal a blow to the NCP's carefully cultivated image as a democratic and inclusive force committed to resisting discrimination. More resignations are expected to follow. Born from a student-led movement that helped unseat an authoritarian government, the NCP claimed moral authority rooted in sacrifice, courage, and a pledge to redefine political culture. The alliance, spearheaded by convener Nahid Islam and other senior leaders, has inevitably raised questions about whether that ideological commitment has been traded for parliamentary seats.
Nahid Islam has sought to downplay these concerns, insisting that the pact with Jamaat is "strictly electoral" and has nothing to do with ideology. He maintains that the party's reform, justice, and anti-hegemony agenda remains intact. He has also pointed to the security risks faced by NCP leaders and activists, particularly after the killing of Sharif Osman Hadi, arguing that an alliance with Jamaat could offer protection for grassroots workers. While it is true that electoral politics in Bangladesh can be brutal and new parties face both structural and security challenges, are these risks sufficient to justify alienating key members and supporters?
The party's justification, moreover, does little to address the deeper unease. The argument that the alliance is to ensure the reform agenda and the "yes" vote for the referendum does not really fly, as no party contesting in the election has opposed the July Charter altogether or called for a "no" vote. Besides, the NCP did not ask to be judged by narrow electoral logic alone. It positioned itself as a moral alternative to the entrenched culture of convenience and compromise. The abrupt shift, from contesting countrywide to capping nominations at around 30 seats, has reinforced the perception that key decisions were taken without consultation or transparency. Jabeen has alleged that the arrangement was pre-planned and that aspiring candidates were sidelined. Undoubtedly, women leaders—who have been constantly harassed and threatened online by right-wing groups—appear to have been disproportionately excluded from this consequential decision.
The party's move has left many questioning what, if anything, fundamentally distinguishes the NCP from the very political culture it once condemned. With many central committee members loudly opposing the alliance, and influential figures such as Mahfuj Alam expressing disenchantment, the NCP's future as a credible party of change looks uncertain. Instead of chasing seats at the cost of its credibility, it could have chosen patience, accepting electoral defeat if necessary while preserving its ideological integrity. That restraint, rather than this alliance of convenience, might have demonstrated that it truly is a party of real change.


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