THE ongoing debate surrounding the Women’s Affairs Reform Commission in Bangladesh has largely centered around a handful of its 433 recommendations, particularly those deemed controversial by Islamist groups, rather than the full scope of reforms proposed. Much of the coverage — whether in news reports or opinion pieces — has focused less on what the commission got right and more on where it allegedly went too far, particularly from the standpoint of religious groups. However, the furor sparked by Islamist protests and the politicisation of a progressive women’s rights reform proposal calls for a deeper analysis of not just what was proposed, but who proposed it and how.
While the commission has indeed put forward many progressive and much-needed reforms addressing women’s rights, social justice, and gender equity, the composition of the commission itself has played a critical role in shaping the public reaction. Critics have pointed to specific proposals, such as inheritance reforms, polygamy, or child marriage stipulations, that they claim conflict with Islamic law. What has not received sufficient attention is how the lack of inclusive representation within the commission may have inadvertently fuelled these criticisms and enabled extremist groups to hijack the narrative.
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Descriptive vs substantive representation
IT IS undeniable that the current commission is made up of highly respected and experienced individuals — many of whom have spent their lives advocating for the rights of women, minorities, and other marginalised communities. Yet even the best qualifications cannot replace what is missing: a symbolic and substantive inclusion of religious scholars — both male and female, who could have acted as intermediaries between progressive reform and religious acceptability.
In political science, we distinguish between descriptive representation (who is in the room) and substantive representation (how well the interests of a group are being advocated). In a commission as socially and religiously sensitive as this one, both forms of representation were essential. Including a diverse set of stakeholders, especially religious scholars who enjoy credibility in conservative circles, could have mitigated the backlash and prevented the commission from being painted as a Western feminist imposition on Bangladeshi culture.
Had such scholars been involved in drafting and reviewing the recommendations, their religious legitimacy could have challenged the narrative now dominating the public discourse — that these reforms are ‘anti-Islamic’ or ‘foreign-imposed.’ A commission member who argued on television that ‘other commissions also lacked gender diversity’ misses the point: this commission is fundamentally different. It deals with centuries-old injustices against women in a society that is both deeply patriarchal and religiously sensitive.
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Cultural sensitivity and communication failure
ANOTHER overlooked dimension is the wording of the recommendations. In policymaking, particularly in diverse societies, semantics matter. Even the most progressive ideas can be rejected if they are not framed in culturally resonant language. While we must resist regressive pressures, it is equally important to recognise how language can either bridge or deepen societal divides.
In this case, the commission’s failure to communicate the spirit of its proposals in ways that consider cultural and religious sensitivities opened the door for opportunistic actors. Islamist groups seized this opportunity to reframe the narrative, claiming that these proposals were part of a Western feminist agenda incompatible with Islamic values. This is a tragic misrepresentation of the commission’s intent, but one that could have been avoided.
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Who benefits from the backlash?
LET us be clear: the goal of many of these protesting groups is not to refine or amend the recommendations — they seek to demolish the entire commission. That alone tells us something about the power of the reforms. If even half of the proposals are implemented, the lives of countless women in Bangladesh will improve significantly. Property rights, protection from violence, education access, and reproductive health — all stand to benefit. The scale of the opposition reveals just how threatening women’s empowerment is to the patriarchal status quo.
But rather than engaging in a constructive debate over selected issues, religious groups have cherry-picked a handful of controversial proposals to justify wholesale rejection. This strategy is not new; it has been used repeatedly to stall progress. More concerningly, this time they have managed to stir mob protests and tried to exert pressure on the interim government — undermining both democratic discourse and the safety of commission members.
One must ask: if these groups are truly concerned with Islamic teachings on justice and dignity, why have they resorted to abusive language against women who have devoted their lives to uplifting the underprivileged?
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Missed opportunity: religious engagement
In today’s Bangladesh, religious legitimacy holds enormous sway, especially when it comes to gender issues. That is why it was essential to include progressive Islamic scholars — particularly women scholars — on the commission. Their presence could have provided an interpretive bridge between Islamic values and women’s rights. More importantly, it would have undermined the core narrative used by conservative opponents: that the commission is secular, elite-driven, and divorced from ‘real’ Bangladeshi culture.
This is not a call for religious gatekeeping of women’s rights but a strategic acknowledgement of the social context in which reforms must occur. By ignoring that reality, the commission inadvertently played into the hands of its most aggressive detractors.
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Moving forward: building bridges, not walls
SO WHERE do we go from here? First, the interim government must resist pressure to dismantle the commission altogether. The majority of the proposals are forward-looking, fair, and deeply necessary. Second, civil society must push for inclusive dialogue involving all relevant stakeholders — including scholars of religion, law, gender, and development.
Finally, we must centre the debate not on whether reforms are ‘Islamic enough,’ but on whether they promote justice, equity, and dignity — values that are also deeply embedded in Islam. Only then can we begin to heal the rift and restore focus to the real issue: women in Bangladesh deserve better.
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Dr Tasnia Symoom is a post-doctoral fellow at Center for Research on Violence Against Women (CRVAW), University of Kentucky.
