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THE Constitution of Bangladesh provides no scope for an Islamic state or a Sharia-based governance system, as it is fundamentally founded on secular principles. Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami, too, operates entirely within this secular constitutional framework. Therefore, no political party in the country can be legally or structurally described as an ‘Islamic party.’ To interpret their electoral or political victories as the triumph of Islam is merely an attempt to instrumentalise religion for political gain. Such a process runs contrary to the spirit of the Qur’an and the Hadith, ultimately harming both society and the state. In truth, these victories represent the success of the secular order, as they are achieved through democratic means embedded within that very system.

The contemporary Jamaat-e-Islami has followed precisely the path that its founder, Abul A‘la Maududi, once condemned. Maududi’s theoretical framework called for a radical, transformative Islamism rooted in revolutionary change. Yet his followers gradually gravitated toward a form of ‘soft Islamism.’ Just as militant Hindutva empowered the BJP and forced the Indian National Congress into adopting a ‘soft Hindutva’ posture, Maududi’s own hardline vision indirectly paved the way for the emergence of soft Islamism in South Asia. Consequently, in the absence of legal philosophy and moral vision, Islamic politics has been reduced to ritualised repetition. Without justice, ethical integrity, and spiritual balance, Islamic political movements become mere slogans devoid of substance.

A comparative analysis of Islamic law and secular law reveals that Islamic principles aim to establish justice and collective welfare, while secular law is grounded in humanistic rationality. However, when political interests overshadow both, any ideology—religious or secular—loses its moral essence. In Jamaat’s case, the lack of philosophical depth and legal reasoning has turned its activism into a repetitive pursuit of political power rather than an expression of divine justice.

Jamaat’s political behaviour also reflects colonial and imperial residues. Their position during the 1971 Liberation War, repeated instances of violence against minorities, alleged corruption in recruitment and administration, the domination of mosques, madrasas, and universities, and their antagonism toward various schools of Islamic thought all point to a quest for social control under a religious veneer. Behind the façade of faith lies a deep political and economic ambition.

In August 2024, Bangladesh witnessed widespread violence against Hindu and Ahmadiyya communities. Attacks occurred across twenty-seven districts, destroying temples, homes, and businesses, and leaving at least one person dead. Between August and November, 174 incidents of communal violence resulted in twenty-three deaths. These assaults stemmed from political instability and the exploitation of sectarian propaganda. Following the 2014 general election, supporters of Jamaat-e-Islami and the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) attacked Hindu households in several districts. Seven members of the two parties were later arrested. The National Human Rights Commission blamed the government for its failure to protect minorities but noted that the violence was politically motivated.

Such acts of persecution contradict the secular spirit of the Constitution. Human Rights Watch and other organisations have repeatedly accused Jamaat and its supporters of human rights abuses. Reports from the Bangladesh Hindu Buddhist Christian Unity Council, the National Human Rights Commission, and local media confirm that a systematic nexus exists between religious rhetoric and political violence.

During the 98th Annual Jalsa in Panchagarh, even after securing legal permission, Ahmadiyya homes were looted and torched. A young engineer, Zahid Hasan, was killed, and over seventy others were injured. The prolonged inaction of law enforcement provoked public outrage. The Ahmadiyya community rightly asserted that such violence is anti-Islamic. Their differences with non-Ahmadi Muslims lie merely in theological interpretation, particularly regarding the advent of the Mahdi. This violence, therefore, was not born of faith but of the political manipulation of religious division.

It was precisely for this reason that Maulana Bhashani once described Jamaat-e-Islami as the ‘Islamic edition of fascism.’ His observation captured the essential nature of Jamaat’s political conduct: a religion wrapped around the pursuit of power. A movement that lacks self-criticism cannot call a nation toward the path of Islam. One that partakes in the same Western- and Indian-influenced politics it denounces cannot remain loyal to Islam’s universal moral vision.

Scholars Ali Riaz and Shafi Md Mostofa have offered significant insights into Jamaat’s political evolution. Riaz argues that Jamaat should be understood as a political organisation seeking to rehabilitate itself from the stigma of 1971 war crimes by rebranding as a ‘politically excluded actor.’ He shows that Jamaat’s invocation of religion is strategic rather than spiritual. Mostofa, on the other hand, observes that Bangladesh’s civil society and media are deeply anchored in secular modernity, which limits Jamaat’s influence. He further explains that modern state policies are shaped by three primary elements: the political sentiments of the majority, Western liberal values, and the narrative-building process aimed at delegitimising opponents. Together, their analyses reveal that Jamaat’s achievements are not religious triumphs but the products of political strategy, electoral coalition-building, and sociopolitical context.

Just as the Awami League has turned the Liberation War into a political symbol, Jamaat has instrumentalised Islam. But the question remains: has Jamaat ever truly challenged the democratic order? Only when it does so—perhaps in a moment akin to 2013—will it be clear whether its victory represents the triumph of Islam or merely of political calculation. Hefazat-e-Islam’s ‘thirteen-point demand,’ though couched in Islamic terms, was ultimately a political agenda. If Jamaat had genuinely sought revolution, 2013 could have been its turning point. Instead, it chose compromise, coalition politics, and the pursuit of power-sharing arrangements.

Jamaat’s current posture suggests an implicit acceptance that religion should not dominate politics. Their recent policy statements and leadership speeches reflect this shift. But if the party distances itself from the moral essence of Islam, its claim that ‘our victory is the victory of Islam’ cannot stand. A political success that lacks an ethical foundation and spiritual justice cannot be deemed a religious triumph.

This tension is evident in the rhetoric of Jamaat’s leadership. Naib-e-Ameer Dr. Syed Abdullah Muhammad Taher, during a 2025 visit to the United States, stated, ‘Some say that if Jamaat comes to power, India might attack. I told them, I pray that they do; our five million youths will fight against India.’ He further declared this would be ‘Ghazwatul Hind,’ the final war against Hindustan (‘Our five million youths will fight India,’ Desh Rupantor Online, 27 September 2025). Such statements, though wrapped in religious language, carry deep political undertones. The invocation of sacred war serves as emotional mobilisation and a tool for political legitimacy, similar to rhetoric once used by ISIS in Syria and Iraq. These words do not promote religious harmony but fuel fanaticism and social division.

The overall analysis reveals that Jamaat’s politics adapts to the logic of power rather than to the principles of faith. It invokes religion to arouse emotion while manoeuvring for administrative and economic advantage. Instead of establishing Islamic justice, social equity, and compassion, it has turned them into slogans of political utility. In essence, if Jamaat’s victories stem only from electoral tactics, coalition alignments, and social pragmatism, they cannot be regarded as victories of Islam. The true union of religion and politics manifests through justice, accountability, equality, and human dignity. When religion becomes a tool of politics, it ceases to be sacred and turns into an instrument of oppression. As Riaz and Mostofa’s research makes evident, Jamaat’s success is strategic, not spiritual.

Thus, Jamaat-e-Islami’s politics must be interpreted not from an Islamic perspective but through the lens of power dynamics and historical context. Any organisation that departs from Islam’s universal ideals of justice and humanity, no matter how fervently it proclaims its religiosity, cannot claim to represent an Islamic victory. In the moral measure of Islam, victory signifies justice, accountability, and human compassion. By that measure, Jamaat’s electoral wins in student and national politics are not religious triumphs but merely another chapter in Bangladesh’s evolving story of political power.

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Mizan Rehman is a writer and critical analyst, currently studying at the University of Chittagong.