Why do voters elect controversial politicians?

In a typical model of democracy, the electoral process is designed to perform two functions simultaneously: it acts as a filter to select leaders with the potential to serve public interest, and as a disciplinary tool to “purge” those with the potential to abuse power and betray public trust. The benchmark theory suggests that if an incumbent, for instance, is identified as corrupt, voters—armed with this information—will cast them out in the next election.

However, the reality in Bangladesh presents an unsettling contradiction to this theory. The country seems trapped in what may be termed the “Bangladesh Paradox”: a state of adverse selection in which transparency does not necessarily lead to rejection. Instead, individuals associated with alleged bank loan defaults, tender manipulation, or other abuses of power are often returned to office. This is less a failure of civic virtue than a rational response to a broken institutional environment where voters reward perceived effectiveness, or “raw capability,” over moral integrity. 

To understand why this happens, one needs to turn to the economics of information. The 2001 Nobel laureates in economics—George Akerlof, Michael Spence, and Joseph Stiglitz—demonstrated that informational imperfections, where knowledge is imperfect or asymmetric, systematically generate market failure. In a healthy market, if a buyer knows a car is a “lemon” (defective or low-quality), they will not pay the price of a “pristine vehicle” (high-quality) for it. In Bangladesh, however, the “lemon law” of economics has been turned on its head.

The problem is not asymmetric information (that is, voters being deceived); it is symmetric information, or rather, the reaction to it. Voters often know who these candidates are, including their past controversies and their methods. They still choose them because, in a weak institutional environment, evidence of a candidate’s ability to manipulate or “work” the system is interpreted not as a disqualifying lack of integrity, but as a perverse signal of “fitness” or raw capability required to deliver results in a lawless landscape.

Recently, there have been allegations that a number of loan defaulters and questionable millionaires have made it to the 13th parliament. According to data provided by SHUJAN, 147 out of the 297 elected candidates have carried bank loans, with the loans of 36 exceeding Tk 5 crore. About 126 of these MPs are affiliated with BNP alone. The question is, why would voters choose a leader of potentially questionable background? The answer lies in a real-life calculation. In a patronage-mediated polity, the more rational voter may seek to maximise expected access or benefits, such as protection from administrative harassment, preferential treatment, employment opportunities, a degree of security in an uncertain environment, etc.

In this context, a “clean” candidate is an unknown quantity, a potential risk. They may possess integrity, but they are often perceived as lacking the organisational reach or administrative control required to translate a vote into protection and services. By contrast, a questionable candidate with a track record of wielding power becomes a preferred instrument of survival. When the state fails to provide services as a matter of right, voters are compelled to “purchase” them by giving their vote to a powerful patron. The relevant electoral question then shifts from “who is honest?” to “who can deliver?”

When defensive voting rewards those with money, muscle, and administrative reach, the system suffers from adverse selection: it attracts the “wrong type” of person to power—those most attracted to it but often least suited to hold it. Once these actors are in office, moral hazard follows.

Leaders who realise that their strength lies in organisational dominance rather than institutional performance have no incentive to dismantle the very structures that have secured their success. Discretion becomes more valuable than rules, and control over local administration becomes more valuable than institutional neutrality. In Bangladesh, this has evolved into “bureaupolitigraft,” the collusive fusion of politicians and bureaucrats into a single mechanism of organised graft. Policy, regulation, and administration are converted into instruments of private accumulation, often protected by a “klepto-fascist” regime that intimidates opposition and represses dissent.

Our history illustrates how this equilibrium was maintained before being eventually shattered. The corruption scandals of BNP’s 2001-2006 tenure, when the country was ranked the most corrupt in the world for five consecutive years, contributed to a climate of public discontent that culminated in the party’s heavy defeat in the 2008 election. Voters acted on what they knew. However, the subsequent era under Awami League saw nearly 15 consecutive years of bank looting, regulatory capture, and the institutionalisation of bureaupolitigraft. The persistence of loyalty among some circles was not due to a lack of information; instead, it reflected a structure of political payoffs where many supporters were protected or benefited by the system. For them, the regime represented access rather than exclusion. When loyalty is incentive-compatible, defection means the loss of privilege or proximity to power.

What sustains this equilibrium is not ideology but risk management. In a patronage state like Bangladesh, the cost of being on the losing side is immediate and personal, while the benefits of integrity are distant and uncertain. Voting therefore becomes a portfolio decision under institutional failure: citizens hedge against exclusion rather than invest in long-term governance. The ballot is no longer a moral instrument but a survival strategy. As long as access to credit, contracts, protection, and public services remains politically mediated, a rational voter may continue to prefer a candidate who can control the system over one who promises to reform it.

So, breaking the Bangladesh Paradox requires more than informing voters; it requires lowering the cost of voting against patronage. The transformation has to be institutional rather than rhetorical. Hospitals must treat patients by rule, not by recommendation. Bank lending must follow enforceable contracts, not political connections. Police must respond to citizens’ needs, not to partisan signals. Businesses must operate without paying for protection. When daily life can be navigated without the shelter of a patron, the perceived risk of supporting a cleaner political option will fall sharply.

The 2024 uprising finally broke the seemingly permanent grip of Awami League, and the February 12 election installed BNP back to power. The nation now stands at a pivotal crossroads. There is a fervent expectation that BNP has learned a critical political lesson: the cycle of “bureaupolitigraft” is no longer a sustainable path to political survival. The same fate that befell the previous regime could loom much earlier than a 15-year horizon if the new leadership fails to reform to establish the rule of law in governance.

Dr Abdullah A Dewan is professor emeritus of economics at Eastern Michigan University in the US. He can be reached at aadeone@gmail.com.

Views expressed in this article are the author's own. 

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