1 A Twenty-First-Century Regime Type

The fall of the Hasina regime holds historical and political importance for Bangladesh and will remain a significant event in the annals of the country for generations to come. As a popular uprising that toppled an autocratic regime, whether we call it a mass or student – people uprising, the Monsoon Revolution, or the second liberation, the events of July 2024 had features that were uniquely Bangladeshi. They were formed by the situation in the country, the nature of the regime, and the nature of society.

The uprising also had more general features. The regime that fell in July 2024 was in significant ways a 21st-century phenomenon: an electoral democracy that had transitioned to what many will call an autocracy. Hasina’s regime was originally elected in 2008 in a free and fair election and enjoyed broad support and legitimacy for several years. As with other 21st-century “backsliding democracies,” the façade and the trappings of a democracy were retained and the shift from a democracy into an autocracy was never admitted. This did not hide the fact that the slow democratic deterioration constituted a real transition into something else and that it was simply an example of many similar cases.

Almost all electoral democracies in South and Southeast Asia have experienced compromised political freedom and a deepening democratic recession since the early 2000s (Diamond 2025). This is the case for many countries elsewhere, both in the global South and North (Bermeo 2016; Lührmann and Lindberg 2019). Despite some ups and downs and a few happier cases, the impression is generally bleak. One of the reasons for the dearth of successful protest is of course effective and brutal suppression. An equally compelling explanation is that contemporary autocracies diverge significantly from the 20th-century models of military regimes and one-party socialist states, in both form and function. The democratic decay they represent has been conceptualized not as “dictatorships” but with a plethora of terms that seek to capture their exact nature: “authoritarian populism,” “competitive authoritarianism,” “flawed democracy,” “hybrid regime,” “deconsolidated democracy,” “illiberal democracy,” “electoral authoritarian regime,” or “electoral autocracy,” and most evocatively as “spin dictatorships” (Guriev and Treisman 2022). Not quite full dictatorships, they are also not functioning democracies.

These are the regimes of the 21st-century, or the “third wave of autocratization,” as the current trend of democratic backsliding is often known. They are popularly elected and, at least initially, enjoy significant support among the electorate. They are not the outcome of a revolution or a military coup d’état. As elected governments, it is only slowly and over some time that they become self-assured enough to solidify into something we recognize as non-democratic and autocratic. And that process is fussy. While transitioning, they draw liberally from what has been called the “menu of autocratic innovation” (Curato and Fossati 2020; Morgenbesser 2020). They do not control media directly but through friendly associates. There will be room for some criticism generally, some outlets for frustration and anger, but it will be limited, overshadowed by pro-ruler coverage. A personal criticism of the ruler is to be avoided. Democratic institutions are not dismantled but deconstructed and emptied of political relevance. Typically, elections continue to be held on time and there may be an election commission, but elections are in reality unfair and manipulated – only amateurs steal elections on election night (Bermeo 2016, 8). Moreover, the opposition is harassed, their activities made difficult, their businesses suddenly subject to tax investigation, and their newspapers suddenly without government-funded advertisement. There is likely to be a human rights commission, civil society organizations, and opposition news outlets, but their activities will be limited and, in newsrooms, self- censorship will be practiced. Lastly, contemporary dictators often employ international public relations agencies to promote their narrative of economic success, and prominent individuals do occasionally lend support to the regime, as Western actors have for Putin and international academics for Sheikh Hasina.

2 Hasina’s Slowly Emerging Autocracy

The Sheikh Hasina regime is a perfect example of slow, erratic, and challenged backsliding. Elected in a free and fair vote in 2008 and with a solid popular mandate, the regime slid towards increasing autocracy over a decade and a half and through many challenges. The heavily manipulated elections in 2014, 2018 (Riaz 2019) and 2024 ensured that she ruled virtually without opposition, but they all took place against a backdrop of massive street mobilization of the opposition and, notably, of diminishing returns in the form of votes or foreign accolades. Early on, her rule and her policy decisions were often challenged in newspapers, but, characteristically, mainstream media came increasingly under the ownership of her allies in Awami League or associated business families (Riaz and Rahman 2021). Criticism of the government in general terms would be permitted in some limited ways even until the end of her regime, but any criticism of her, her family, and certain issues close to her regime’s legitimacy and power were impermissible (Kuttig and Sharif 2022; Riaz and Zaman 2021). This threat to individuals meant that self-censorship was extensive towards the end (Hasan and Wadud 2020), a development that had been made possible by the increasingly draconian laws on information technology and communication, from “Section 57,” through the Digital Security Act, and finally the Cyber Security Act. From the outset, these were used liberally to harass any online criticism (Ruud and Hasan 2021), and as the judiciary came under the ruling party’s control with the 16th amendment to the constitution, these laws could be used more liberally.

The Hasina regime was bolstered by extensive and a much broadcasted narrative of economic progress visualized in national projects such as the Padma Bridge and other megaprojects (Mirza 2022). An equally important narrative was the regime’s role as the custodian of the national legacy of 1971, variously referred to as “spirit of 1971” (or muktijuddher chetona) or Bangabandhu’s dream (shopno). The sacred mythmaking around 1971 and Bangabandhu amounted to a secular national religion (Ruud 2022a) and was increasingly manifested in state ceremonies. The extended centenary celebrations of Mujibur Rahman’s birth (the Mujib barsha) was an expensive highlight, but even the birthdays of her brothers were increasingly marked by party or political ceremonies. And Bangabandhu’s name was attached to more and more buildings, events, organizations, and institutions. There were also efforts to elevate Sheikh Hasina herself to an unreproachable position as “Mother of Humanity” and “the country’s leader” (deshnetri), eventually referring to her simply as “the honorable” (manoniyo).

As we know, these facades hide a grim reality, one of a restrictive autocracy sensitive to criticism and unafraid of using harsh methods to suppress opposition. Increasingly, such autocratic regimes target critics at home and even abroad (Hasan and Ruud 2025). News is suppressed, critics jailed and sometimes “disappeared,” and laws are used selectively and aggressively. But the Hasina regime seemed unmovable. It was deeply entrenched, with a vast edifice of narrative legitimation closely aligned with widespread nationalist sentiments of sacrifice and pride (Mookherjee 2007). And it had control over all major state institutions – parliament, judiciary, the police, and the army (Ruud 2022b).

3 The Twin Called Resistance

There are not many successful uprisings against autocrats in recent decades, at least in an Asian context. The uprising in Bangladesh in 2024 is a prominent exception. The ones in Nepal in September 2025 and Sri Lanka in 2022 are also examples, and the Nepali protests ending the autocracy of the last king in 2006 yet another. However, the next ones on the list are the student protests in Bangladesh that led to Ershad’s exit and the Nepal protests the same year, nearly three and a half decades back. There have been other cases of mass uprising against autocrats in Asia but those have been unsuccessful or only partially successful (Croissant and Haynes 2021).²

In other words, uprisings against a backsliding democratic development rarely succeed. There are major gaps in our understanding of how such processes are contested and challenged. In general, the study of resistance is “a neglected area of inquiry” (Tomini, Gibril, and Bochev 2023). One body of literature on resilience against autocratization focuses on institutional mechanisms (Gamboa 2022; Laebens and Lührmann 2021; Tomini, Gibril, and Bochev 2023; Wiebrecht et al. 2023). A second, older body of literature focuses on popular forms of resistance in typically an earlier generation of autocracies and brings out the irreverence and fun-making that constitute the “hidden transcript” of rejection of patriarchal and authoritarian claims (Mbembe 1992; Scott 1985, 1990; Wedeen 1999). These perspectives have not received much attention in the context of the current round of democratic decline.

Our focus here is on resilient and creative contestation of autocratization and recognizes “the agency of the opposition” in resisting autocrats (Gamboa 2022). We argue that autocratization had a hidden twin: resistance. The case of Bangladesh and the articles in this collection, indicate the relevance of formal or informal opposition. To understand what democratic backsliding and autocratization do to a society, we must also acknowledge the ways in which autocratization is tested and challenged both by an established, organized opposition and by an unorganized, inchoate, and informal resistance to the authoritarian and autocratic endeavors of the rulers – and the grey zones in between.

In the following sections, we point to three distinct developments, the long term, the medium term, and the short term, to identify elements that went into creating the circumstances of opposition and resistance that eventually toppled the Hasina regime.

4 The Long-Term

Central to the legitimacy and survival of spin dictatorships is economic growth. For the population there is a trade-off between economic improvement and loss of civil liberties. Improved living standards can justify to many an authoritarian state. The relative stability of the Chinese regime, for instance, is often attributed to its ability to create jobs, welfare benefits, and housing. The inability to keep up economic progress is often thought to endanger the legitimacy of the regime. A version of this argument holds that the breakdown of autocratic regimes is due to the failures of neoliberalism (Yabanci, Akkoyunlu, and Öktem 2025). The inability to provide welfare and benefits to the laboring classes under the confines of a capitalist world system will eventually lead to popular uprisings.

However, an analysis of 79 cases of mass uprisings against autocrats in the post-World War II period suggests that the economy is rarely the triggering element (Albrecht and Koehler 2020). Three other factors are more commonly present for a revolutionary situation to emerge. The first among these is the presence in a country of a personalized leadership, i.e., of a leader who holds in his – or as the case might be, her – hands vast executive powers. Grievances are then seemingly projected onto this individual. A second factor commonly present before the emergence of a revolutionary situation is the length of the incumbent’s tenure. A long tenure entails a greater risk. Third, the presence of a protest culture prior to the revolutionary event increases the chances of an uprising to be successful.

Sheikh Hasina’s regime was a personalist regime (for a definition, see Frantz 2018), a point visible in how her likeness was used to represent the regime in the wall paintings after her fall. She ruled as her father’s daughter, on his legacy, protecting his memory, and justifying her policies with reference to his dreams. She had also been in power for 15 years and gave no indication of wanting to step down. There was also the presence of a protest culture, particularly among students, a culture that in part developed during protests (more below) and was in part cultivated as heroic expressions of Bangladeshi courage with an emphasis on 1952, 1971, and 1990. She also presided over an economy that had long seemed to be doing very well.

On the other hand, it might be simplistic to understand the history of previous uprisings as mere “culture” without appreciating the specific and concrete dissatisfaction that went into these protests. Hasina’s regime did face growing discontent and opposition from a relatively early point, and this history of protest and mobilization is significant because contestation indicates resistance. Autocratization is a process, slow and at times erratic, that is about silencing the voice of those who are ruled by limiting their access to information (Glasius 2018). Protests are expressions of desire to be heard and counted, and even when muffled, or perhaps particularly when muffled, these expressions are crucial aspects of the history and process of democratic decay – because they express opposition to this silencing.

The most eye-catching development in Bangladesh was the series of large- scale mobilizations that took place from 2013 onwards. These were significant protests that targeted aspects of the rulers’ political line or directly or indirectly criticized it. They were largely outside the government’s control, and they caused a number of compromises and shifts in policy. The protests include the Shahbag movement and the Shapla Square mobilization in 2013, the BNP and Jamaat’s mobilization in protest of the election in 2013–2014, the first quota protest movement, the movement for road safety, protests against taxes on school fees, the BNP’s mobilization in 2018 and again at the end of 2023; and finally, the second quota movement. Although mostly not targeting the government directly, these expressions of discontent registered with the rulers sufficiently loudly to make them respond with efforts of suppression along with efforts of compromise. The ebbs and flows of this process is one of shifting configurations of resisters and of changing regime tactics to deal with protests. Awami League embraced Hefazat in an effort to counter Jamaat’s appeal (Lorch 2018) and its differentiated response to the road safety movement – partly police, partly goondas (party thugs), and partly appeals to parents – suggests frantic efforts to regain control.

There were other forms of protest and resistance too. Resistance to the regime’s increasing autocratic ways was often innovative and marked by adaptation to the changing circumstances. Minor and even private acts of resistance, which included playing along as a subterfuge strategy or dodging the rulers’ writ, are examples of ad hoc forms of resistance we have previously conceptualized as “democratic bricolage” (Ruud and Hasan 2024). These “make-do” forms of resistance and opposition also included NGO s that found ways to fool the rulers, editors who circumnavigated the real if unstated censorship, and government officials struggling to retain self-respect while being forced to submit (Dewan 2022).

In this collection, the article by Ishrat Hossain adds significantly to our understanding of how the seemingly powerful Awami League regime was undermined. The author analyzes the limitations of the regime’s efforts at creating an ideological hegemony. Holding the claims of the chetona – the “spirit of 1971” – narrative up against human principles of justice and equality, Hossain argues that the regime’s relentless moralizing backfired. The exploitation of the narrative and the aspirations of 1971 in favor of a corrupt and self-serving regime inadvertently enabled its critics to contest on the same terrain. The regime fell into what the author terms “ideological isolation.” By monopolizing moral political meaning, the regime exposed itself to criticism from those who had been excluded from power and who still felt outraged at being grouped with razakars and renegades.

These self-inflicted wounds and ideological undermining weakened the regime’s ability to command, having lost its moral claim to rule. When appearing increasingly self-serving, the regime came to rely on the second main pillar of backsliding democracies: economic progress.

5 The Medium Term

The fact that it started as a quota protest movement prompts us to investigate the economic background for the regime’s downfall. The economic growth predated the 2008 election victory but was sustained by the regime. As noted, claims of economic progress put the regime at risk of backlash should the economy be hit by a downturn – which it was, especially after the economic damage due to the Covid-19 pandemic (a similar hurt contributed to the fall of the Rajapaksa regime in Sri Lanka). Governments are generally sensitive to the price of essentials and, in the Bangladesh case, the cost of cooking oil, gas cylinders, rice, and eggs, for instance, do seem to have gone up. There is also the question of the general outlook for the economy, not the least the question of job opportunities for youth and perhaps, particularly acute, the question of job opportunities for educated youth. In his contribution, Aaqib Md Shatil engages in a discussion about the role of material and macroeconomic drivers behind the uprising. He shows how macroeconomic figures indicate a substantial slowing-down of the economy, with high youth unemployment among university graduates. A significant element the author points to is that upward mobility relied increasingly on public sector jobs. These were high in demand among graduates, significantly brought on by the hefty boons offered by the government to its public officials, boons that included cars or housing loans on easy terms, salary increases, and generous retirement schemes.

This situation prepared the ground for widespread discontent that made the quota system particularly apt as a rallying point. The repression unleashed during the early phases of the protests only added insult to injury.

6 The Unfolding of Violent Events

The thread is picked up by Saimum Parvez in his contribution. He notes, first, that among the protesters there were also people from other sectors, not just students from public and private universities. Second, by investigating the sequence of events, he points out that it is after the first phase when the so-called law-enforcement agencies and pro-regime goondas critically injured and killed protestors, that the number of protestors increased significantly. He deduces from this that violent suppression has a “backlash mobilization” and that, instead of preventing further protests, these efforts at suppression actually increased the numbers mobilized. From a close reading of interviews and newspaper reports, he accurately captures the outrage that was engendered by the atrocities. Participants in the protests, whose interviews were conducted during or immediately after the protests, talked about how they had felt compelled to protest due to what was happening to their fellow citizens. They were shaken and outraged by the shootings and the bloodshed – and their moral and emotional reaction prompted their participation and added to the protests.

Musharrat Hossain continues where Parvez leaves off and investigates the consequences of private university students’ participation in the protests. While the public universities are in central areas of the city, the private universities are in northwestern parts and in particular along the Kuril–Bashundhara stretch. Their engagement in the struggles constituted, the author holds, a claiming of public spaces, in effect insisting on their “right to the city.” She sees this reclaiming of public spaces from the grip of the authorities as an expression of opposition and outrage. This article not only underscores the relevance of public anger and the weight of the reaction that followed government forces’ atrocities during the July days, but it also underscores how new urban protest sites have emerged from the uprising, changing the political landscape of the city.

Mohammad Mozahidul Islam contributes an article on a subject of great importance to how the events unfolded, and on a topic very rarely addressed in print: the role of the armed forces and the powerful military establishment. As was clear in early August 2024, the armed forces effectively ended Hasina’s rule when it decided it would not shoot on the protesters. The author calls this a “partial military defection,” that is, not quite a defection because the army did not actively join the protesters or arrest any of Hasina’s people; in reality, the army shielded many from the anger of the protesters. But it was a partial defection because the army chose not to follow the prime minister’s commands. To explain this, the author points to circumstantial factors that restricted the army’s room for maneuver. In the highly connected and networked Bangladeshi society, army officers also had children close to the protesters, friends expressed horror, or school friends voiced strong criticism. Even some retired officers voiced opposition. Even if discipline mostly overruled hesitation, the doubt was palpable. In a tightly-knit society, the army was not shielded from the anxiety felt by large proportions of the population. And then there was the concern that any engagement in violent suppression of protesters might jeopardize the UN peacekeeping operations that are an enormous source of pride for the army and its officers.

7 The Unfulfilled Promise

In this introduction, we have argued that there is a sequence to the events that led to the uprising and the end of Hasina’s rule, starting from the protests over the past decade, the experience they gave as expressions of voices that were denied space, through the overworked ideological narrative that lost its ability to persuade and the economy that failed, to the anger gripping more and more after those first atrocities, the whole reconfiguration of protest geography, and finally the army’s decision not to fire. All these were crucial elements in the unfolding of events, each playing a role, and constitute in effect the inevitable reaction to creeping and blatant autocracy.

In the end, however, there will be disappointments and disillusionment. An uprising or a revolution often carries more promises than can be fulfilled in its aftermath. The last article in this collection, by Lailufar Yasmin and Julian Kuttig, addresses one aspect of this: how the important leadership and crucial contribution of women in the uprising held promises that were eventually not fulfilled. The role of female leaders in the uprising was premised on expectations that their contribution would be both acknowledged afterwards and lead to real improvements. But the authors argue that, as in so many other revolutions and uprisings around the world, while women’s participation is valorized in movements of national crisis, they are quickly forgotten afterwards. Women’s continued participation in the political life of a movement is hampered by structural barriers to female participation in any political engagement in the country – the evening meetings, the inability to move freely outdoors after dark, and the worrying families at home. These structures do not change.

In pointing to how structures remain, the authors speak importantly to a broader challenge of the many different aspirations and hopes that went into the uprising and that did not point in the same direction. Hopes of democracy, a corruption-free society, respect and equality, and a decent government had spurred protesters. In the rapidly unfolding world of the post-uprising Bangladeshi politics, this plethora of aspirations is clearly visible. But so are other concerns and aspirations. Where some wish for a more liberal society, others seek one in line with Islamic tenets. Where some see the West as a model, others see Turkey. Some seek a liberal society, others economic development. There are right-wingers and left-wingers. Some seek revenge or simply to replace the former rulers with a new cohort, different but same. Where some insist it is time for a reckoning and trial of the guilty, many still hanker for the former regime’s imagined stability.

Democracy, again within reach, entails agreement on the rules of disagreement, not agreement itself. It does not entail societal progress, peace, economic growth, equality or corruption-free politics. But it does entail the absence of abuse, opening of space for voices, and respect for individuals. The long history of how Hasina’s regime was opposed harbors a story of indominable democratic spirit, a source of hope for Bangladesh and for other countries in similar situations.