Awami League’s downfall and the politics of cognitive dissonance

History has a way of repeating itself, often with different actors but the same tragic plotlines. The fall of Sheikh Hasina’s Awami League government has left behind a political landscape harshly familiar to students of history and political psychology. The party’s steadfast refusal to acknowledge its mistakes, its insistence on conspiracy theories, and its remorseless demeanour all indicate a textbook case of cognitive dissonance. As the pioneering social psychologist Leon Festinger argued, when confronted with overwhelming evidence contradicting deeply held beliefs, people do not necessarily change their views; instead, they double down.

Festinger’s seminal work on cognitive dissonance explains the mental discomfort experienced when reality clashes with pre-existing beliefs. In the 1950s, he infiltrated a doomsday cult whose members were convinced the world would end on a specific date. When the prophecy failed, rather than admitting their mistake, the cultists rationalised their beliefs by claiming their faith had saved the world. This pattern, where individuals or groups faced with disconfirming evidence refuse to accept reality, is now on full display in the Awami League.

For more than 15 years, Sheikh Hasina and her party built a political fortress based on dominance, authoritarian tendencies, and the erosion of democratic institutions. Opposition parties were crushed, the media muzzled, and electoral mechanisms hijacked to perpetuate her rule. When the walls of this fortress crumbled under the weight of mass protests, Hasina and her followers did not introspect. Instead, they sought solace in an alternative narrative: their downfall was not due to popular outrage but rather an international conspiracy.

The Greek concept of hubris—the excessive pride that leads to downfall—perfectly encapsulates the Awami League’s attitude. Political scientist Graham Allison’s theory of organisational failure suggests that when institutions become too entrenched in their ways, they resist necessary adaptation even in the face of imminent collapse.

This is evident in Hasina’s unchanging rhetoric, even after her government was ousted. Leaked phone conversations reveal her solid belief that she was the victim of a grand design. Despite evidence that her government’s mishandling of the student-led movement resulted in mass casualties, Hasina and her exiled ministers refuse to acknowledge any wrongdoing. This is not merely political stubbornness but a deeper psychological need to avoid self-recrimination.

Philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre argued that people avoid self-reflection because it forces them to confront their own responsibility. If Hasina were to admit that her government collapsed due to internal corruption, misgovernance, and public outrage, she would have to struggle with a lifetime of political miscalculations. The easier option, as cognitive dissonance theory suggests, is to alter the narrative.

Political history is rife with examples of leaders who refused to accept responsibility for their downfall. US President Richard Nixon, after Watergate, remained convinced that he was the victim of a media-driven witch hunt. In more recent history, Donald Trump’s continued insistence that the 2020 US presidential election was stolen shows a similar psychological mechanism at play.

The Awami League’s strategy of non-apology serves a dual purpose. Firstly, it provides a coping mechanism for its leaders and supporters, many of whom have invested their careers and reputations in the party’s narrative. Admitting failure would be personally and professionally devastating. Secondly, by externalising blame, the party keeps alive the possibility of a political resurgence. If the narrative remains that the Awami League was unjustly removed rather than rightfully ousted, its leaders can mobilise support on the promise of a return to power.

However, this strategy carries long-term risks. Philosopher Hannah Arendt, in her analysis of totalitarian regimes, observed that when political parties rely on manufactured narratives to sustain their existence, they become increasingly disconnected from reality. The more the Awami League insists that it was the victim of a grand conspiracy, the less likely it is to engage in the necessary reforms to regain public trust. In a democracy, no party can survive indefinitely without a genuine social contract with its citizens.

One of the most revealing aspects of the Awami League’s downfall is the reaction of its grassroots activists. Many have gone into hiding, not because they were part of the violent suppression of protests, but because they feel abandoned. These were the foot soldiers who once championed the party’s cause, only to find themselves leaderless in its darkest hour.

Political theorist Antonio Gramsci wrote extensively about how political movements sustain themselves through “organic intellectuals” at the grassroots level. These are the local leaders, student activists, and community organisers who serve as the bridge between ideology and the masses. However, when a party’s leadership becomes too insular and removed from ground realities, this bridge collapses.

The Awami League’s grassroots members now face an internal dilemma: do they continue to defend a leadership that refuses to acknowledge them, or do they begin seeking alternative political affiliations? This is where cognitive dissonance becomes an individual as well as a collective phenomenon. For years, these activists believed they were part of a righteous cause. The reality that their leaders abandoned them in exile creates a painful internal contradiction, one that can only be resolved in two ways: either by continuing to believe in the party despite its failures, or by breaking away and facing an uncertain political future.

Acknowledging mistakes is not a sign of weakness; it is a prerequisite for political rehabilitation. Countries with strong democratic traditions have seen fallen parties regain public trust by embracing self-reform. Germany’s Social Democratic Party, after years of political decline, rebounded by admitting past mistakes and adjusting its policies. Even in Bangladesh’s own history, parties that have embraced change have managed to return to relevance.

Charles Darwin famously stated, “It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change.” If the Awami League wishes to remain politically relevant, it must recognise this fundamental truth. Denial, conspiracy theories, and deflecting responsibility may serve as temporary shields against the pain of political loss, but they do not constitute a long-term strategy for survival.

H. M. Nazmul Alam is an academic, journalist, and political analyst. He can be reached at nazmulalam.rijohn@gmail.com.

Views expressed in this article are the author’s own.