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IN HIS seminal work Parties and Party Systems, political theorist Giovanni Sartori astutely observed that electoral systems are far from neutral tools. They do more than count votes; they shape outcomes, entrench hierarchies, and define the political playing field. Nowhere is this truer than in Bangladesh, where the first-past-the-post system has entrenched duopolistic dominance, narrowed democratic choice, and handed disproportionate power to those who win a mere plurality of the vote.

As the country wrestles with recurring democratic backsliding, the call for electoral reform, especially for proportional representation, is no longer a fringe fantasy. It is a legitimate demand rooted in democratic necessity. The conversation around proportional representation must move beyond party-centric paranoia and tackle the structural deficits that plague our electoral landscape.


Under first-past-the-post, it is possible and not uncommon for a party to clinch an overwhelming parliamentary majority with only a minority of the popular vote. This skews representation and disenfranchises vast swathes of the electorate. The outcome? A system that rewards brute strength over consensus, domination over dialogue. Bangladesh has borne the brunt of this distortion for decades, caught in a political tug-of-war where winning means crushing the opponent, not coexisting with dissent.

For years, one familiar narrative gripped the political imagination: that fair elections would inevitably usher in a BNP-Jamaat government. Today, with growing traction behind PR, a new bogeyman has emerged: that proportional representation would open the door to Islamist parties. Both arguments, though ideologically at odds, are cut from the same cloth. They’re fueled by the same fear that once monopolised power might slip through one’s fingers. This is not a principled argument against PR. It is a partisan reflex dressed up as democratic concern. Rather than obsessing over who might gain or lose in a proportional system, we must reframe the debate: how do we create an electoral architecture that is inclusive, accountable and reflective of the nation’s diversity? Too many public intellectuals, journalists and commentators remain locked in narrow partisan trenches. Their resistance to proportional representation is not rooted in evidence or principle, but in an instinct to defend the status quo at all costs.

In the language of Antonio Gramsci, these figures are not neutral observers but agents of cultural hegemony, manufacturing consent not through coercion but through carefully crafted narratives that protect the dominant order. And the cost of that order is high.

Under first-past-the-post, Bangladesh has normalised electoral violence, voter suppression and constituency-level manipulation. Political strongmen often muscle their way into the parliament, not through the ballot box but through coercion, intimidation and control of local machinery. PR, by shifting the emphasis from local constituencies to national party lists, could significantly reduce these pathologies. It cuts off the oxygen supply to local-level thuggery and redirects the focus toward policy, ideas and national vision.

Moreover, proportional representation would allow a more rational division of labour between the national parliament and local government. Members of Parliament would no longer have to moonlight as development agents, a role often used as a smokescreen for patronage. They could return to their core legislative responsibilities, while locally elected bodies take charge of community-level governance. The age-old turf war between members of parliament and union or upazila chairpersons would be lessened, if not put to bed altogether.

Critics of proportional representation often clutch at examples like Israel or Italy, citing the instability of their coalition governments. But this argument is cherry-picked. Over 90 countries use proportional representation systems, including many of the world’s most robust democracies — Germany, Sweden, New Zealand, to name a few. No electoral system is without flaws, but to toss proportional representation out of the window based on selective examples is intellectually lazy at best and disingenuous at worst.

One technical concern often raised is the vote threshold for winning seats under PR. While many nations set a minimum bar, Bangladesh has yet to decide on one. With 120 million voters and 300 parliamentary seats, a party would need roughly 0.33 per cent of the vote to secure a single seat. That’s not an open floodgate for fringe actors, its a fair baseline, worthy of public debate, not knee-jerk dismissal.

Proportional representation also carries intrinsic structural safeguards. Electoral fraud has diminished payoff, as altering thousands of votes may yield at most a fraction of a seat. Advance voting and diaspora voting become administratively easier under a national list. By-elections are largely unnecessary, with party lists ensuring smooth succession. Campaigns shift focus from personality cults to party ideologies and manifestos. To block a system simply because it might reflect views we disagree with is to trample on the very idea of pluralism.

Some in the BNP camp also harbour cold feet, not because they fear losing votes, but because they might lose control over candidate selection and local networks. Under first-past-the-post, patronage, wealth and muscle often determine nominations. PR, with its centralised party lists, would require merit, strategy and internal reform. That’s uncomfortable for those who benefit from the current chaos, but its precisely the disruption democracy needs. If the BNP is serious about championing democratic reform, it must embrace systems that curb undemocratic incentives, even if it means sacrificing some internal power.

Philosophers from John Stuart Mill to Alexis de Tocqueville warned against the ‘tyranny of the majority.’ When unchecked, majoritarianism becomes a cloak for authoritarianism. Bangladesh has lived through this. Time and again, those who win power wield it with a clenched fist, crushing opposition, rewriting rules, and silencing dissent. Proportional representation may not wholly prevent this drift, but it certainly makes autocracy harder to entrench. Arend Lijphart, a leading scholar of divided societies, proposed the model of consociational democracy, in which political stability is built on inclusion, power-sharing, and cooperation. Bangladesh, rich in ideological, religious, and ethnic fault lines, is tailor-made for such a system. Proportional representation offers a democratic architecture in tune with this complexity.

Concerns that proportional representation may temporarily amplify the voices of smaller Islamist or hard-left parties are not without basis. But they are short-sighted. A democracy worth its name does not fear voices, it engages them. The true danger lies in pushing dissent underground, not in letting it speak.

Let us not forget: under first-past-the-post, millions of votes are routinely ‘wasted’ in safe seats or regions with no meaningful competition. Proportional representation makes every vote count. That isnt a loophole, its the very definition of electoral justice.

Bangladesh’s political elite, across party lines, has shown a consistent appetite for centralising power. Proportional representation disrupts that impulse. It distributes authority more evenly, fosters coalition-building and makes autocratic consolidation harder. It will not cure all ills, but it raises the cost of authoritarianism.

To PR’s critics, a challenge: if not this, then what? How do you intend to tackle electoral violence, vote rigging and democratic exclusion? You cannot wish these problems away with platitudes and nostalgia.

As Michel Foucault wrote, ‘Power is not only repressive, but productive.’ It produces truths, norms and narratives. Much of the opposition to proportional representation today is not about defending democracy, its about defending power cloaked in democratic language. We are not debating perfection. We’re debating possibilities. First-past-the-post has delivered lopsided results and helped pave the way for authoritarian drift. Proportional representation is not a magic wand, but it is a step toward fairness, toward inclusion and toward a democracy that works not just for the powerful, but for the people. Bangladesh now stands at a crossroads: continue with a rigged game, or rewrite the rules for a fairer future. Reform won’t be easy. But then again, real democracy never is.

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Shahid Kamrul is a writer, columnist and a researcher at Freie Universität Berlin.