The root of our enduring political and governance crises can be traced to the precipitate drafting of Bangladesh’s 1972 Constitution. Adopted in November of that year after a mere seven to eight months of preparation—spearheaded by Dr. Kamal Hossain, the then Law Minister and a Dhaka University law academic—this foundational document was, by any measure, an unrealistically accelerated endeavour.

The irony deepens: within three years, the same National Assembly that had adopted the Constitution undertook its wholesale revision, with Dr. Kamal Hossain himself participating actively in the process being a member of the House. Such haste, i.e. from drafting pulp to codified law, raises grave questions about whether due endeavour was ever undertaken or whether the endeavour was at all sufficient.

Subsequent amendments by legal elites have satisfied neither the public nor the ruling class, while recurrent overhauls every 5–9 years have perpetuated instability. The executive branch, however, remains stubbornly unchanged, its powers entrenched. Today, with the 16 experience with Sheikh Hasina regime, many citizens believe the Constitution fails to safeguard even the sovereignty of the state, leaving Bangladesh a nation adrift—unstable, discontented, and yearning for resolution.

What, then, is the remedy?

Remedy to our Recurrent Political Crisis

The solution to Bangladesh’s perpetual political instability lies in a comprehensive constitutional overhaul, not piecemeal amendments and possible only after a revolution.

I propose the formation of a National Constitutional Reform Council, comprising of representatives from all professional spheres—law, medicine, engineering, academia, journalism, and civil society, political science, environment sustainability, agriculture—rather than relying solely on the an 18-Advisor cabinet. The empty halls of our National Parliament Building could serve as the ideal forum for this deliberative assembly to debate and draft meaningful reforms.

The very fact that our founding fathers discarded the original 1972 Constitution within three years suggests its foundational flaws. Yet today, constitutional amendments remain the exclusive domain of the MPs—who, paradoxically, show little interest in substantive reform. Instead of addressing national imperatives, our parliamentarians squander their mandate on local saga, poetic recitals, and theatrical displays while rubber-stamping bills drafted behind closed doors by the Law Commission.

Who are in the Law Commission? This Commission consists of the retired judges, lawyers, law scholars, chaired preferably by the immediate past Justice from the Appellate Division or the Chief Justice. Hence the members are not law makers, the law practitioners. The members are handpicked by the Executive Branch of the country and cleared by the deep state.

This exposes a deeper malaise: since independence, Bangladesh’s constitutional framework has been treated as a lawyers’ monopoly rather than a national covenant. Where are the voices of economists, scientists, social scientists, healthcare, agri and techno professionals or educators in shaping a document that governs 170 million lives? This exposes a serious conflict of interest or contradiction: the law composers are none other than the law practitioners. Hence, the reformations after every revolution since 1971 is revolving around a vicious circle, coming back to square one within a few months or years.

A Japanese Model for Inclusive Governance

The remedy to our ongoing political crisis lies in a comprehensive revision of our Constitution, not by a selective group from the society.

We have to explore the best practices across the globe. Consider Japan’s Science Council (SCJ): a 210-member think tanks.

Japan has both a legislative and an executive branch, much like ours. However, this SCJ adds a necessary layer of accountability and insight. This prevents the unchecked concentration of power and unfeasible national undertakings for an individual gain.

It would be a welcome development if a National Council for Constitutional Reform were formed—comprising representatives from a broad cross-section of Bangladeshi society. Professionals from all fields—law, academia, engineering, media, medicine, finance, and the social sciences—should be part of this initiative. A small Advisory Cabinet of just 18 individuals is simply not sufficient to reflect the diversity and complexity of our nation’s needs. A small committee, or even parliament, is not effective as the politicians could not come to a consensus on the constitutional structure. Such corrections or modus operandi, at times, are perceived as a conflict of interest by the opposition or by the citizens.

The National Parliament Building, now largely unoccupied, could serve as a vital space for national dialogue. It could host debates and deliberations focused on adopting appropriate and forward-looking constitutional amendments. Similar to parliamentary sessions, the discussions should be telecasted and recorded for future record. In hindsight, it appears the drafting of our first Constitution may have been flawed. Otherwise, why would the so-called the then founding father have felt compelled to discard it and replace it within three years, for example?

 

Traditionally, the legislative body has been responsible for enacting constitutional changes. Yet in practice, Members of Parliament have limited scope to initiate meaningful reform. As a result, debates in Parliament often revolve around local grievances or minor issues, rather than broader national concerns. This situation is exacerbated by the absence of a lower house representing local constituencies in Bangladesh’s legislative framework.

 

It is ironic that the very MPs who hold the mandate to amend the Constitution often remain silent on the subject. Instead, we witness parliamentary sessions filled with flattery, tears, sycophantic anthems, anecdotes, local saga, laughter, and even theatrical gestures—everything, it seems, except meaningful constitutional reform. Meanwhile, all bills drafted by the Law Commission are ultimately passed by these very MPs.

 

In effect, the Law Commission—rather than Parliament—has become the de facto origin of legislative change in Bangladesh. Since our independence, constitutional reform has remained the domain of lawyers, rather than political scientists or broader civil society. This is a critical imbalance. Lawyers are meant to interpret and apply the law—not to monopolise its creation.

 

We have yet to see engineers, doctors, economists, political scientists, journalists, or educators play a meaningful role in shaping the Constitution. Their exclusion is a missed opportunity. The law must serve the people, and its creation should reflect the insights and values of all sectors of society.

 

Unlike Bangladesh’s top-down legalism, Japan integrates cross-disciplinary expertise into governance—though its system is imperfect. Of course, Japan is not without its issues—corruption and political irregularities exist there as well. The assassination of the former Prime Minister Shinzō Abe, for instance, was reportedly linked to genuine grievances, although they were quickly suppressed from public discourse.

The Science Council of Japan (SCJ) is an independent advisory body consists of 210 Council Members and around 2,000 Associate Members, representing the country's approximately 870,000 scientists. The SCJ draws on expertise from a wide range of disciplines, including the humanities, social sciences, life sciences, natural sciences, and engineering. During the COVID-19 pandemic, for example, it was the Council that debated and proposed the necessary public health restrictions—which were then implemented by the government. This contrasts starkly with the top-down approach we witnessed in Bangladesh.

For reference: https://www.scj.go.jp/en/scj/members.html

 

The Path Forward

      1. A Citizens’ Constitutional Convention: Replace ad hoc amendments with a representative, transparent drafting process. Needs be it, take adequate time.

     2. Decentralise Expertise: Form an all-inclusive national council and Involve professionals beyond a particular group to address economic, technological, and social realities. Adopt formation of some more such councils on create more public acceptance to them.

    3. Empower the Young: Share these models with the youth of Bangladesh to inspire a bottom-up demand for meaningful institutional reform. Let us also seek a sustainable solution to the foundational principles underpinning the very Constitution of the Republic.

Cosmetic reforms won’t suffice. As the Japanese example shows, stability springs from inclusive institutions—not autocratic or far conservative legalism. Real change must come from within—from the bottom up, not through superficial, cosmetic alterations. My task is simply to present these examples to our younger generation, in the hope that they will take up the mantle and lead the way to a better, more inclusive, and forward-looking future.