The first hundred days of a new government usually pass in a blur of performative activity and inflated promises. In Bangladesh, however, the opening months of the new administration carry the heavy weight of historical correction.
Following the extraordinary upheaval of August 2024, which saw the autocracy of Sheikh Hasina collapse under the weight of its own repression, the country entered a period of profound uncertainty.
When the dust settled and a credible election finally arrived, the verdict was decisive. Tarique Rahman, chairman of the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), secured a two-thirds majority, assuming the premiership of the world’s eighth-most populous nation.
To observe Rahman from within the inner sanctum of power, as his deputy press secretary, is to witness a politician attempting a delicate balancing act: honoring a formidable family legacy while dismantling the “winner-takes-all” political culture that has long stifled the country.
His father, Ziaur Rahman, laid the foundations of the garment industry; his mother, Begum Khaleda Zia, was the face of the democratic movement in the 1990s.
Yet, in the quiet of the prime minister’s office, Rahman seems less interested in political mythology than in the “heat” of the chair — a phrase he used during the first parliamentary session to describe the crushing responsibility of the mandate.
The most striking departure from the previous era is a calculated lack of theater. In a region where leaders often cultivate a cult of personality, Rahman has opted for a style that is almost stubbornly unperformative. There are no grand displays of sacrifice despite 16-hour workdays.
Instead, his attention drifts toward the granular and the grassroots. He spends time with student inventors — driving a student-made go-kart or discussing engineering with a disabled youth who built a car —not for the photo-op, but with a focus on how domestic innovation can be scaled for public benefit. It is a subtle shift from the state as a patron to the state as a facilitator.
This change in tone is most visible in the Jatiya Sangsad, the national parliament. Bangladeshi politics has historically been a blood sport, characterized by vitriol and the systematic erasure of the opposition. Today, while televised sessions remain robust, the atmosphere off-camera has thawed.
Rahman has been known to visit opposition lawmakers during bouts of illness, a gesture that would have been unthinkable a few years ago. His rhetoric increasingly emphasizes pluralism, arguing that the rights of his opponents are as sacred as those of his supporters.
By stripping his speeches of excessive veneration and personal attacks, he is attempting to move the national conversation toward policy priorities rather than partisan vendettas.
The prime minister’s appeal to “Generation Z” rests on this perceived accessibility. He engages in unscripted, often critical, dialogues with university students, appearing comfortable with disagreement — a rare trait in a political culture where dissent was previously equated with disloyalty.
This openness extends to his policy agenda, particularly on the climate. As a delta nation on the front lines of environmental collapse, Bangladesh faces existential threats.
Rahman’s proposed “Green Revolution”— an ambitious plan to plant 250 million trees and excavate 20,000 kilometers of canals to manage groundwater — reflects a preoccupation with long-term survival over short-term political cycles.
Even in the chaotic streets of Dhaka, the change is symbolic. Previous leaders moved through the city in ironclad “VVIP” convoys that froze the capital’s infamous traffic for hours.
Rahman has frequently been observed following standard traffic regulations, sitting in the same gridlock as his constituents. It is a small, practical inconvenience that carries immense symbolic value: the leader as a citizen rather than a sovereign.
However, the path ahead remains treacherous. Bangladesh’s institutional challenges are formidable, and its economic recovery is fragile. While the government preaches dialogue, the digital landscape remains a battlefield of misinformation and polarizing narratives.
The true test of Rahman’s pluralism will come not during this honeymoon period, but when the inevitable pressures of governance begin to bite.
For now, the administration is betting that a more civil, policy-focused approach can heal a fractured nation. Rahman’s first 100 days suggest a leader who understands that in a democracy, power is not a prize to be guarded, but a temporary trust to be managed with a surprising degree of humility.
Whether this “new” politics can survive the old habits of the Bangladeshi state is the question that will define his premiership.
The writer is Deputy Press Secretary to the Prime Minister, Government of the People’s Republic of Bangladesh
