PHOTO: BSS

Globally, there is a never-ending debate over whether voters are driven more by policies or personalities. In Bangladesh, where most political parties are leader-centric rather than bottom-up democratic organisations, experience suggests that leaders—not policies—win elections. Policies rarely influence the masses. Manifestos, therefore, receive little serious scrutiny as tools to judge a party, its candidates, or a leader’s electability. It is no surprise that manifestos have become the least of priorities in the February 12 election for major parties vying for power. So far, leaders have been announcing policies at campaign rallies in a fragmented manner rather than releasing them as a cohesive package, selectively targeting different segments of the electorate.

The National Citizen Party (NCP), which emerged as a new political force following the mass uprising of 2024, deserves credit for unveiling its manifesto first. On Friday—just 13 days before the vote—the NCP, largely dominated by young activists of the uprising, announced the “ Manifesto of Youth and Dignity.” The 36-point document’s most distinctive feature is its strong emphasis on young people’s political aspirations. Among its youth-centric pledges, the most striking is the proposal to lower the voting age to 16.

While the idea sounds exciting, it requires a broader societal consensus. Universally, individuals under 18 are considered children—expected to be in classrooms, barred from full employment, and often requiring guidance in financial decision-making. Whether extending voting rights to this age group would meaningfully advance democratic governance remains debatable. Moreover, the manifesto’s dual pledge to lower the voting age to 16 and establish a youth civic council to institutionalise youth participation in policymaking leaves ambiguity as to whether voting rights would apply only within this council or extend to all elections.

Targeting young voters, the NCP has pledged to create one crore jobs in five years—numerically similar to the BNP’s promise but arguably more ambitious in quality, as it claims these will be “decent jobs.” However, questions arise about what constitutes a decent wage when the manifesto proposes an hourly minimum wage of Tk 100.

In education, the NCP proposes establishing a long-overdue reform commission—an initiative conspicuously absent from the reform agenda of the interim government led by Professor Muhammad Yunus, despite its wide-ranging efforts across social, economic, and constitutional domains. However, the education reform commission’s mandate should go beyond merely “rationally coordinating” existing systems. It must modernise education to align with global developments, scientific and technological advancement, and the evolving needs of the national economy. The proposal to link higher education with careers—by making a six-month full-time internship or thesis research mandatory at the undergraduate level—is a bold and commendable step.

The proposed reverse brain-drain programme, aimed at attracting expatriate researchers through seniority recognition and one-time lab funding, would be a novel addition to national policy. Allowing lateral entry into the bureaucracy could also incentivise skilled professionals to return home. However, the plan to establish an independent promotions commission to ensure 100 percent performance-based government promotions lacks practical clarity. The Public Service Commission already plays this role, yet allegations of nepotism and corruption persist. Another innovative attempt to court expatriate voters is the proposed one-stop “diaspora digital portal,” offering essential services along with investment and pension benefits tied to remittance inflows and “RemitMiles” travel rewards.

On the economic front, the NCP’s pledges appear measurable but somewhat naïve. Setting ambitious macroeconomic targets without experience in managing either state policy or private enterprise is a risky political gamble. The manifesto aims to reduce inflation to six percent and raise the tax-to-GDP ratio to 12 percent but provides no timeline. If these goals are intended to be achieved by the end of a parliamentary term, the lack of interim benchmarks is both vague and inconsistent with sound economic planning, which requires regular—at least annual—revisions.

The party promises to improve the business climate and eliminate extortion and political levies through hotlines and strict enforcement—tools that have long existed within policing frameworks but have delivered limited success. Its strong stance against loan defaulters is more promising, particularly the proposal to revoke their voting rights, which could deter them from seeking public office. However, such a policy requires a specific commitment to ensure that a strict judicial process will be followed in identifying defaulters.

As a fledgling political party, the NCP appears to lean heavily on nationalist rhetoric, especially in defence policy. It proposes expanding the armed forces by creating a reserve force of five lakh, establishing a UAV (unmanned aerial vehicle) brigade, and acquiring several medium-range surface-to-air missile batteries. Whether these measures are necessary or sufficient for a comprehensive national defence strategy is debatable. Worse, such proposals could be perceived by adversaries as provocative rather than stabilising.

Other notable initiatives include pledges to establish an independent commission to monitor reform commitments, form a truth and reconciliation commission to investigate past atrocities and extrajudicial killings, and require ministers, MPs, and senior officials to publicly disclose assets and income. Proposals for digitising health records to facilitate access to medical services and national health insurance are commendable. Subsidies for farmers, six-month maternity leave, and one-month paternity leave are also welcome offers. However, their financial implications and resource-mobilisation strategies remain unanswered.

The most glaring disappointment, however, is the manifesto’s silence on inclusivity. None of the NCP’s 36 pledges address the concerns of religious minorities or ethnic communities, including Adivasis. These groups have long demanded equality, fairness, and respect for their rights, faiths, cultures, and ways of life. Is this omission the result of political compromise with newly formed allies in the 11-party alliance? Or does the NCP simply fail to recognise the needs of Bangladesh’s diverse citizens? Either explanation suggests a troubling lack of empathy and understanding—qualities essential for uniting the nation towards collective progress and advancement.