Every few years, the same theatre unfolds in Dhaka. Footpaths are suddenly cleared, cameras arrive before pedestrians do, and a narrative of order restored’ briefly dominates the headlines. For a few days, the city appears disciplined, almost rehearsed. Then, as predictably as the monsoon, the hawkers return. The sidewalks fill again, the informal economy resumes its pulse, and the cycle of eviction and reoccupation continues. What we witness is not governance resolving a problem, but governance performing control over its most visible symptoms.
This recurring pattern raises an uncomfortable question. Are we genuinely seeking a solution to the complexities of sidewalk-based trade, or are we merely staging periodic spectacles of administrative efficiency? The answer lies in our persistent refusal to recognise that what appears as disorder on the footpath is, in fact, the manifestation of a deeper structural reality embedded within the economy, society, and the state itself.
From a philosophical standpoint, this tension reflects an old contradiction within modern states. The German philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel viewed the state as the embodiment of rational order, tasked with organising society into a coherent ethical whole. Yet, in cities like Dhaka, the state often encounters forms of life that resist neat categorisation. Hawkers, informal traders, and street vendors operate outside the formal structures of regulation, yet they are integral to the lived reality of the city. Their existence challenges the state’s aspiration for order, exposing the limits of its institutional imagination.
Economically, the issue is even more paradoxical. The sidewalk economy is not marginal in any meaningful sense. It is vast, dynamic, and deeply intertwined with urban consumption patterns. Estimates suggest that in Dhaka alone, the number of hawkers exceeds 100,000, while the national figure runs into several lakhs. The annual turnover of this sector is in the thousands of crores of taka. This is not an anomaly at the edges of the economy. It is a central, if unrecognised, artery of urban life.
The Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics does not classify hawkers as a distinct category. They dissolve into broader labels such as ‘informal sector’ or ‘self-employed.’ This bureaucratic abstraction has profound consequences. What is not measured cannot be governed, and what is not recognised cannot be protected. In effect, the state’s statistical silence translates into policy neglect.
The sociological dimensions of the problem are equally revealing. The French sociologist Émile Durkheim argued that modern societies are held together by complex interdependencies rather than uniformity. The hawker on the footpath is part of a network that includes rural migrants, small-scale producers, transport workers, and low-income consumers. The cheap goods sold on sidewalks sustain the purchasing power of millions who cannot afford formal retail markets. To remove hawkers without providing alternatives is a disruption of this delicate social equilibrium. It severs livelihoods, constrains consumption, and intensifies urban precarity. For many rural migrants, hawking is not a chosen profession but a necessary adaptation to limited opportunities. It represents an entry point into the urban economy, requiring minimal capital and offering immediate returns.
Historically, this is not a uniquely Bangladeshi phenomenon. In nineteenth-century Europe, street vendors were a ubiquitous presence, often viewed as symbols of disorder by emerging bourgeois administrations. In colonial cities, informal trade flourished alongside formal markets, creating hybrid economies that defied rigid regulation. Even today, cities in Latin America, Africa, and South Asia continue to negotiate the boundaries between formal planning and informal survival.
What distinguishes successful cases is not the elimination of informal economies, but their integration into urban planning. The Brazilian city of Curitiba, often cited for its innovative urban policies, recognised early on that exclusionary approaches to informal trade were unsustainable. Instead, it sought to incorporate informal workers into regulated spaces, balancing order with livelihood.
The absence of planned space for the informal economy is perhaps the most glaring policy gap. Master plans envision flyovers, metro rails, and commercial zones, but they rarely account for the millions who operate outside formal structures. This omission is not accidental. It reflects a deeper bias within development thinking that equates modernity with formalisation, often at the expense of lived realities.
However, the challenge in Bangladesh is compounded by an entrenched system of informal power. Over the years, a parallel structure of control has developed around sidewalk trade, involving political intermediaries, local enforcers, and corrupt officials. Hawkers often pay regular fees to occupy specific spots, creating a shadow economy that operates alongside the visible one. Any attempt at reform that ignores this dimension is bound to fail. Eviction drives may temporarily displace hawkers, but they leave the underlying networks of control intact, allowing the system to regenerate itself.
This brings us back to the fundamental contradiction. The state treats hawkers as illegal occupants of public space, yet it fails to provide legal avenues for their existence. It demands order without offering inclusion, discipline without recognition. A more meaningful approach would begin with a simple acknowledgment. Hawkers are not an aberration to be eliminated, but citizens whose livelihoods must be secured within a coherent framework.
Comprehensive data collection is essential to understand the scale, distribution, and economic contribution of sidewalk-based trade. Without this foundation, any policy intervention will remain speculative. Legal frameworks must be developed to classify and regulate hawkers as a distinct economic category, with rights and responsibilities clearly defined. Policy cannot be designed in isolation from those it affects. Urban planners, economists, local authorities, and hawker representatives must be brought together to develop context-specific solutions. Public hearings in affected areas can provide valuable insights into ground realities, ensuring that policies are both practical and equitable.
Designated vending zones, time-based access to certain areas, and integrated market spaces can help balance the needs of pedestrians and traders. Such measures require careful planning and transparent management, but they offer a viable alternative to the current cycle of eviction and return. Policies should be designed to withstand political transitions, ensuring that the rights and livelihoods of small traders are not subject to the uncertainties of changing administrations. This is perhaps the most difficult challenge, as it demands a level of institutional maturity that transcends short-term political considerations.
At its core, the question of hawkers on footpaths is not about sidewalks. It is about the kind of city we wish to build and the kind of state we aspire to be. A city that prioritises aesthetics over livelihoods may achieve temporary order, but it will remain fundamentally unstable. A state that recognises and integrates its most vulnerable citizens, on the other hand, can create a more resilient and humane urban environment.
The writer is an academic, journalist, and political analyst. E-mail: [email protected]
