After spending nearly three months in Bangladesh following a long absence, I find myself asking a difficult question: are we truly victims of a broken system, or are we, in fact, the very architects of that system?
Scenes from everyday life offer unsettling clues. People running after VIP cars for attention, bypassing queues through personal connections, treating bribery as a normal and even necessary step to get things done, these are not isolated incidents. They are symptoms of a deeper social reality. We often blame politicians, criticise bureaucrats, or point fingers at foreign influence. But where do these politicians come from? Who runs the administration? The answer is simple: they come from us.
Bangladesh was born out of extraordinary ideals. The Language Movement, the mass uprisings, the Liberation War and the very recent 2024 uprising instilled in us values of justice, equality, human dignity, and self-respect. But how much of that spirit have we preserved? The reality today suggests a troubling contrast: we have progressed economically, but regressed morally. In politics, power has overtaken principle. Loyalty often outweighs competence, and partisan interests dominate institutional integrity. Yet politics does not exist in a vacuum; it mirrors the society it represents. If the foundation is weak, the structure cannot stand strong.
Growth in industry, infrastructure development, and remittance inflows has propelled the country forward. However, beneath this growth lies widening inequality, systemic corruption, and unequal access to opportunities. Development without fairness ultimately weakens the very society it aims to strengthen. On the diplomatic front, Bangladesh walks a delicate line, balancing relationships with global and regional powers while striving for national development. Its military has earned international recognition through peacekeeping missions. Yet no country can command lasting respect abroad if it struggles with internal weaknesses at home.
Culturally, Bangladesh possesses a rich heritage of literature, music, and humanistic values. At the same time, it grapples with intolerance, hypocrisy, and the misuse of religious sentiment. In some cases, blind belief overshadows humanity; in others, modernity comes at the cost of losing cultural roots. This duality has created a profound identity crisis.
The most pressing question, then, is: where will change come from?
Many believe political change is the ultimate solution. But the reality is more complex. Governments can change, laws can be rewritten, but transforming the mindset of people is far more difficult and far more essential. Without that transformation, no reform can be truly sustainable. There is hope in the emerging generation. The so-called ‘Alpha generation’ is digitally aware, more questioning, and less tolerant of traditional hypocrisy. However, they also face risks: detachment from history, a lack of emotional grounding, and impatience for immediate results. With the right guidance, they could dismantle outdated systems and build something better.
If corruption continues to be seen as cleverness, if injustice is normalised as efficiency, then no system can save us. But if individuals begin to practice integrity, fairness, and responsibility in their daily lives, change will become inevitable. We dream of a Bangladesh that is pure, humane, just, inclusive, and compassionate. Achieving this vision does not require a grand revolution; it requires small, consistent changes in everyday behaviour.
The transformation of a nation begins within its people. The sooner we accept this truth, the sooner Bangladesh will find its way toward the future it truly deserves.
The writer is a Sr. Journalist, Former Digital Editor, Voice of America
