The Daily Star
The controversy surrounding Satkhira-4 MP Gazi Nazrul Islam poses two questions that must not be confused. Can Jamaat-e-Islami, by expelling him, make his parliamentary seat vacant? And can parliament ignore any serious misconduct merely because no express ground for disqualification has yet arisen? Under the law, the first answer is no. In a credible democracy, the second must also be no.
Jamaat expelled Nazrul on July 22 after an internal inquiry found what it called “moral misconduct.” Nazrul says the woman shown in the circulated footage is his second wife and alleges that private moments were recorded and distributed without consent. Jamaat then wrote to the Speaker and the Election Commission (EC) seeking action. The EC’s position is that it cannot act merely on the party’s letter, since expulsion does not automatically affect parliamentary membership, and any dispute over the status of his seat must come through parliament. That is sound legal restraint.
Article 70 of our constitution is precise—an MP elected on a party nomination vacates their seat if they resign from that party or vote against it in parliament. Nazrul did neither. Treating expulsion as resignation would convert an act imposed by a party into a voluntary act by the member. Worse, it would allow party leaders to reverse a constituency’s electoral choice through an internal disciplinary decision. In a system already dominated by party chiefs and constrained by a rigid Article 70, that interpretation would turn representatives into tenants whose seats could be cancelled by political landlords.
Article 66, which sets out the criteria for becoming an MP, does not supply the missing ground. It disqualifies a person convicted of a criminal offence involving moral turpitude and sentenced to at least two years’ imprisonment, unless five years have elapsed since their release. A party’s finding of moral misconduct is not a criminal conviction, and its constitution is not the constitution of the republic. Jamaat has also invoked the RPO requirement that an electoral candidate be a party nominee or independent. But that governs entry into an election. Nazrul was already validly nominated and elected.
There remains a procedural question, however. Article 66(4), the Members of Parliament (Determination of Dispute) Act, 1980 and Rule 178 of Parliament’s Rules of Procedure govern referral to the EC when a dispute arises over post-election disqualification or vacation of a seat under Article 70. Jamaat’s letter now requires the Speaker to consider whether such a dispute has arisen. If it has, the 1980 Act requires a reference within 30 days. The Speaker cannot decide the merits, and a referral cannot authorise the EC to add “party expulsion” to the constitution. Any EC decision should be reasoned and public.
Past practices support that distinction. BNP MP Abu Hena, Jatiya Party MP Golam Reza, and Gonoforum’s Sultan Mohammad Mansur retained their seats after expulsion. The Latif Siddique controversy reached the EC but he resigned before a final decision. Precedent cannot replace constitutional interpretation, but here it reinforces the plain point: expulsion is not resignation.
Nazrul can, therefore, remain an MP unless he resigns, incurs a constitutional disqualification, or triggers another lawful ground for vacancy. Expulsion can end his Jamaat posts, caucus membership, and any party-derived parliamentary position, but it does not automatically extinguish his authority to sit, speak, vote, question ministers, and represent Satkhira-4 in parliament. Calling him an “independent MP” may be convenient, but it neither erases his electoral origin nor answers every question about parliamentary grouping. The House should clarify those consequences under its rules, not through political improvisation.
However, retaining the seat cannot mean escaping scrutiny. Parties usually investigate MPs to protect discipline and reputation. In June, it was reported that the Prime Minister’s Office was monitoring ruling-party lawmakers, and BNP has recently issued a show-cause notice to one of its MPs over alleged unethical activities. Such interventions may serve political management, but they are not public accountability. Internal inquiries are controlled by party leaders, use party-defined standards, and may be selective, opaque, or reversible. They punish disloyalty and embarrassment more reliably than any abuse of public office.
That said, a serious parliamentary code must resist the vagueness of “moral turpitude.” Parliament should not become a morality court policing consensual private relationships, religious observance, or conformity with a party’s social code. Such language can be easily weaponised against dissenters, women, and minorities. Ethical jurisdiction should focus on areas of public responsibility: corruption, conflicts of interest, paid advocacy, misuse of state resources, harassment, coercion, abuse of authority, false declarations, and obstruction and dishonesty to parliament. Criminal allegations belong before investigators and courts. Nazrul’s allegation of non-consensual recording and circulation also deserves an impartial investigation.
Bangladesh has debated a code of conduct for MPs for decades. A private member’s bill placed before parliament in 2010 proposed an ethics committee, but it never became law. Civil society demands continue, including a recent call for separate laws on MPs’ conduct and parliamentary privileges. The existing Committee of Privileges may address conduct affecting parliament’s dignity, but it is not an independent ethics regulator. A body made up only of MPs cannot, by itself, dispel the perception of colleagues judging colleagues.
In this respect, the UK offers a useful, though imperfect, comparison. The House of Commons has a published Code of Conduct, an independent Parliamentary Commissioner for Standards, and a Standards Committee combining MPs with lay members who have full voting rights. Findings and sanctions are published, members receive procedural safeguards, and serious sanctions require House approval. Under the Recall of MPs Act 2015, specified convictions or suspensions can trigger a constituency petition. If at least 10 percent of eligible electors sign, the seat becomes vacant and a by-election follows. The model separates investigation, parliamentary sanction, and electoral removal.
In Bangladesh’s case, the parliament should enact a precise code, establish an independent commissioner through a cross-party and publicly scrutinised appointment process, require a public register of financial and other interests, and create graduated sanctions ranging from correction and apology to repayment, loss of facilities, and suspension. For grave cases, a carefully designed recall mechanism deserves consideration. The commissioner should be able to initiate inquiries, protect complainants, obtain relevant records lawfully, publish reasoned findings, and remain insulated from government and party whips. Any removal mechanism must carry a high threshold and ensure full due process, so accountability cannot become a device for engineering parliamentary majorities.
The immediate case requires constitutional fidelity. Jamaat may expel Nazrul and urge him to resign, but it cannot turn its disciplinary verdict into a constitutional disqualification. The larger lesson here requires institutional courage. Protecting an MP’s electoral mandate from party bosses and protecting citizens from an MP’s misconduct are not competing aims. Parliament must do both. Without an independent standards system, Bangladesh will keep oscillating between partisan punishment and parliamentary impunity, neither of which amounts to genuine accountability.
Barrister Khan Khalid Adnan is advocate at the Supreme Court of Bangladesh, fellow at the Chartered Institute of Arbitrators, and head of chambers at Khan Saifur Rahman and Associates in Dhaka.
Views expressed in this article are the author’s own.
Source: https://www.thedailystar.net/opinion/views/news/gazi-nazruls-case-raises-bigger-questions-parliament-4233251
