Yunus’ Gambit: Between a fractured past and an uncertain dawn

Sanjoy Kumar Barua

Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus, hailed globally as a pioneer of microfinance, now finds himself at the helm of Bangladesh’s interim government, navigating the treacherous waters of political crisis and reform.

His latest initiative—a series of dialogues with political parties—seeks to craft a “national government” capable of bridging deep partisan divides.

Yet, beneath this ostensibly pragmatic effort lies a volatile undercurrent, one that risks entrenching ideological fault lines and unraveling Bangladesh’s fragile socio-political fabric.

Yunus’ strategy, as insiders reveal, revolves around coaxing rival factions into a coalition that bypasses electoral mandates while offering a semblance of inclusivity.

However, this gamble is fraught with contradictions.

The Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), widely regarded as the frontrunner in any electoral contest post-Hasina, has signaled open defiance, threatening mass mobilization should Yunus prolong his stay under the guise of reform.

The Awami League, already nursing grievances over its abrupt ouster, may find common cause with the BNP in demanding swift elections, creating a dual-front challenge to Yunus’ envisioned “Minus Two” political recalibration.

In a bid to placate adversaries, Yunus has overseen decisions that smack of calculated concessions.

The release of BNP stalwarts like Tarique Rahman, once implicated in grave criminal cases, has stirred whispers of backroom power-sharing deals.

Parallel overtures to disenchanted Awami League figures critical of Sheikh Hasina hint at an attempt to splinter the party from within.

Even the military, traditionally a pivotal force in Bangladesh’s political theater, appears aligned with Yunus’ proposals, lending his endeavor a veneer of institutional legitimacy.

Yet, Yunus’ maneuverings bear an uncanny resemblance to the authoritarian playbook of Bangladesh’s military rulers from the 1980s.

Generals Ziaur Rahman and Hussain Muhammad Ershad, in their time, also sought to consolidate power by courting religious conservatives while sidelining the secular ethos that defined the country’s birth in 1971.

Yunus, beneath his cosmopolitan image, seems to be retracing their steps—cultivating Islamist factions and marginalizing the syncretic Bengali nationalism that once united the nation.

The consequences of this pivot are stark and troubling.

Bangladesh, under Yunus’ stewardship, is experiencing an alarming rise in religious violence and cultural regression.

Reports from civil society organizations paint a grim picture: widespread attacks on minority communities especially Hindus, desecration of temples and viharas; and systematic targeting of Sufi and Ahmadiyya shrines.

Over 2,000 incidents of communal violence were recorded in recent months , including the looting and arson of homes and businesses, the destruction of 69 temples, and multiple fatalities.

Despite mounting evidence, Yunus has dismissed these atrocities as exaggerated, accusing external actors of inflaming tensions.

This denialism not only trivializes the suffering of marginalized communities but also emboldens perpetrators, including Islamist hardliners whose influence is visibly expanding.

His administration’s decisions—lifting the ban on Jamaat-e-Islami, a party implicated in the 1971 genocide, and releasing convicted extremists like Jashimuddin Rahmani—signal a disturbing appeasement of fundamentalist forces.

Culturally, the assault is equally insidious.

The closure of the Lalon Mela, a celebration of the humanist poet Lalon Shah, under threats of arson epitomizes the broader erasure of Bengal’s syncretic traditions.

Attacks on iconic landmarks like the Liberation War Museum and statues of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman further underline the systematic dismantling of the country’s secular and historical narratives.

These are not isolated acts of vandalism but a calculated effort to reshape Bangladesh’s identity, replacing its pluralistic foundation with a homogenized, Islamist vision.

The intellectual veneer of Yunus’ leadership contrasts sharply with the regressive realities unfolding under his watch.

Earlier, Muhammad Yunus admitted that Sheikh Hasina’s ouster was a well-planned “design and conspiracy”.

Yunus was speaking at the Clinton Global Initiative’s annual meeting and said that nothing happened by chance.

“They look like any other young person, you will not recognise them. But when you see them in action, when you hear them speak, you will be shaking.

They shook the whole country,” Yunus said about the three students present with him.

He then specifically pointed towards student activist “Mahfuj Abdullah”, calling him the “brains behind the whole revolution”.

“He denies it repeatedly, he said not me many others. But that’s how he is recognised, that he is the brain behind the whole thing.”

Yunus further stated that the revolt was “amazingly and meticulously planned” and did not happen suddenly.

“It was very well designed. Even the leadership, people don’t know who are the leaders. So you can’t catch one and say it’s over. It’s not over,” he said.

What was once a nation celebrated for its resilience and inclusivity now teeters on the brink of ideological captivity.

If this trajectory persists, Bangladesh risks not only losing its secular soul but also alienating the very forces—both internal and international—that have championed its post-independence journey.

History will judge Yunus not by the laurels of his past but by the legacy of his present.

His interim government may succeed in engineering a short-term political compromise, but at what cost?

For a nation born of linguistic and cultural pluralism, the question is no longer about governance—it is about survival.