Democracy, in essence, can be broadly categorized into three main forms: direct democracy, representative democracy, and deliberative democracy. The current July Charter process, however, appears to be an incoherent amalgamation of all three, without upholding the integrity of any single model.
At the outset, when the structure of the Consensus Commission was established, there was an expectation that it would embody a deliberative democratic exercise—one in which public dialogue, debate, and mutual understanding would guide the formation of a national consensus toward a new political settlement. In practice, however, the Commission has limited itself to negotiations among political parties—negotiations that notably lack adequate participation from women and minority groups. Furthermore, there has been little opportunity for broader civic engagement or dialogue with the general public.
The political parties involved in this process do not possess any legitimate mandate to represent the people; rather, certain parties have been granted disproportionate influence based on presumptive political calculations. After months of elite bargaining, key constituencies—labor unions, rights activists, legal experts, and ordinary citizens—remain excluded from the process.
Now, the process is being reframed as a form of public consultation, where the people’s opinion will be sought on a pre-packaged “constitutional reform” plan designed by the elites. This approach risks reducing a referendum—a profound expression of popular sovereignty—to something resembling an opinion poll. Yet, a referendum is not merely a survey; it is the direct exercise of the people’s sovereign power.
In democratic theory, because it is not feasible to continuously solicit the public’s views on every matter of governance, we practice representative democracy: the people delegate their authority to elected representatives to act on their behalf. In this sense, the people are the employers of their Members of Parliament. When citizens themselves express a direct preference on an issue, there is no further need for MPs or a constitutional reform committee to intervene. Representatives are necessary only when direct consultation with the people is impractical.
If, however, a direct democratic exercise such as a referendum is to be pursued, it must not be framed through loaded binary questions that divide the nation. Complex constitutional questions cannot be reduced to simplistic “yes” or “no” choices. Citizens should be offered multiple, well-considered options that allow for reflective decision-making. Reducing complex issues to binaries only deepens division rather than resolving it.
In my view, the most constructive approach would be to hold an election for a Constitutional Assembly specifically tasked with deliberating on constitutional reform. The theoretical basis for such an assembly is that representatives, chosen by the people for this particular purpose, would engage in dialogue and negotiation to reach a compromise that serves the public interest (whether it actually does so is a separate matter). If constitutional reform is indeed to be the result of such deliberation among representatives, then a referendum becomes unnecessary. Once these mandated representatives reach a consensus, they may, if they deem it appropriate, submit the proposal for ratification through a referendum.
However, conducting both a Constitutional Assembly and a referendum simultaneously is redundant and counterproductive. Should these two mechanisms come into conflict, the nation risks entering a prolonged political crisis, deepening the divide between political elites and the citizenry—an outcome that would harm the broader national interest.
The core problem, then, is that the current constitutional reform process attempts to imitate all three democratic models simultaneously—deliberative, representative, and direct—without successfully realizing any of them. It is neither genuine deliberation, nor a meaningful referendum, nor authentic representation. What, then, is this process?
It seems to me like an undergraduate political science project—a demonstration exercise to show that one has understood all the theoretical concepts and can apply them simultaneously. It is as if the designers are eager to impress the professor with how comprehensively they can integrate every model of democracy into one experiment. But this is not a semester project or a grade-based exercise—this concerns the future of a state. One must choose a clear and coherent path rather than mixing all models together. Academic creativity might win applause in the classroom, but in politics it risks disastrous consequences.
Politics is not an academic simulation. If we make politics overly technocratic and inaccessible to politicians and citizens alike, it will never evolve organically. One must trust the people—and their elected representatives. Imposing a top-down prescription while claiming it represents the people’s will will only backfire. Should this process fail, the July Charter, the Consensus Commission, and the broader reform project will all collapse.
If the opposition’s supporters and disaffected members of the old ruling party reject the referendum, can the July Charter realistically succeed? If deliberative democracy has already failed, we should at least place our faith in representative democracy. Allow elected representatives, chosen by the people, to negotiate constitutional reform based on the principles of the July Charter. If deliberation has failed, and representation is undermined, it would be reckless to experiment with direct democracy.
Anupam Debashis Roy is a doctoral candidate in sociology at the University of Oxford and the Editor-in-Chief of Muktipotro.
