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Can a free, fair election liberate us from depraved politics?
PHOTO: RASHED SHUMON
We are just one week away from the national election. Naturally, this single event is demanding the attention of all politicians, intellectuals, and the media. The country is witnessing fiery debates and intense articles; rallies, counter-rallies, crackdowns, and arson; and international players scrutinising every part of the process for a better standing in their battle for global dominance.
But if we just zoom out, and evaluate this event—which is costing us countless lives, Tk 1,600 crore of government funds (and perhaps a larger amount coming out of politicians’ pockets), economic instability, and property damages—can we really believe that this election, regardless of which side wins, offers us any hope for things to get better?
Yes, we have come a long way since our independence: our economy is bigger, our cities are bigger, our factories are bigger, and we have succeeded in reducing extreme poverty, child mortality, and illiteracy. But what we’ve failed to do is fulfil the fundamental goal of our struggle—independence from an exploitative ruling class that has taken us hostage. Even half a century after our independence, a handful of elites are celebrating the wondrous increase of wealth the economic miracle has brought, while the vast majority, the real producers of that wealth, are gasping under manufactured inequality and political subjugation.
Here, privilege not only begets privilege—all the social, economic, and state mechanisms in practice also ensure that the privileged get an increasingly bigger share of power and wealth (there’s effectively no difference between these two though, if you have power you can always get money, and vice versa).
If you are born poor, or your family doesn’t have any political connections, your access to nutrition, quality education, healthcare, employment, and business opportunities will be limited. You will be harassed by law enforcement, political goons, bureaucrats, and factory owners. Your individual voice will not be heard and the collective voice will be violently repressed. You will be forced to remain in your position for generations.
On the other hand, if you belong to the elites, you are born with a cheat code that not only offers quality everything but a lot extra through various backdoors—from evading the line in the passport office, to getting away with land grabbing, money laundering, and maybe even murder.
The most basic understanding of politicians in a democracy is that they are supposed to be the majority’s representatives, be the embodiments of people’s agency to govern themselves. But in Bangladesh, being a politician does not require you to actually listen to the people, understand their requirements, or be skilled enough to work for the betterment of society. You will be a promising politician if you have one or more of the following: you are born into a political family, you have the muscle power to repress opposition, you have enough money to control and feed the higher-ups and underlings, or you have somehow managed to get famous enough that political parties will keep you as an ornament.
We have fought off our colonisers. But in reality, the people of Bangladesh have never been decolonised. Instead of overseas colonisers, we now have internal ones. Let’s examine some of the fundamental characteristics of our colonised past and see if anything has changed.
Under both the British and Pakistanis, a minority with power controlled all means of politics, economy and governance, and the majority along with their spaces and resources were exploited to the extreme without any regard for its immediate or long-term impact. Money obtained through exploitation was not invested to ensure the upward mobility of people or improvement of public services. Instead, only selected sectors, spaces, or citizen amenities got prioritised; capitalist mechanisms got incentives, and the elites capitalised and syphoned money out of the domestic economic system. The big business owners and authorities worked together to ensure all privileges and protection bestowed by the state mechanisms remained exclusive to them, and any form of rebellion got crushed with utmost importance.
Likewise, we now have two mechanisms for exploiting this land and its people. With one mechanism, vast amounts of wealth get accumulated—through extracting everything possible from workers in factories, offices, agriculture, informal works and so on, at the expense of their rights, working conditions and living standards; through turning workers into hostages of poverty and fear of unemployment; through extorting thousands of crores of taka from banks, government projects, shady businesses, and laundering them.
While this mechanism is pumping out spoils, the other one deploys power—using ambiguous laws and discriminated implementation, and through politicians, law enforcers, bureaucrats, goons—to ensure that the condition remains in favour of the status quo, that the agency to decide how the economy and governance of this country remains exclusive.
When we liberated ourselves from foreign colonisers, we were promised that this was the first time in a thousand years that this country would be ruled by the people, that we would not be treated merely as a source of profit, that we would have freedom and equal opportunities. But the tragedy is that when we allowed our politicians to take responsibility, instead of reforming the colonial structures of subjugation and exploitation, they started using them. Instead of dismantling the channels of extorting power and wealth, they started fighting over who gets to take over. Instead of rehabilitating the extremely marginalised class created by the British and Pakistanis—the landless, the tea workers, the displaced indigenous people—they have completely ignored or even forced them further down. Instead of reducing the religious divide, they capitalised on them and made our identity and history political tools.
On one hand, every apparatus to keep politicians and their policies in check—elections, academia, freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, journalism, workers’ unions, arts and literature—has been made ineffective through repression, censorship and/or politicisation. On the other, wealth mongering has infiltrated every sector—health, education, development, governance, nature conservation, and of course, politics.
So, will this election change any of these? Are any of our options actually willing to correct this track, and turn back from colonising its own people?
Despite having the longest reign in power, has the ruling party reversed mechanisms of inequality, censorship, and corruption? Has it prioritised public services, public institutions, access to justice, and equal opportunities over patronising the elites and itself? Instead of boasting about megastructures, total GDP and which countries are on their side, has it prioritised affordable cost of living, progressive taxation, road safety, social security, quality education, and decentralisation? Well, when people are not the keyholders of power, it doesn’t have any reason to do any of these.
Our other major political option seems to only be concerned about how it can get back to power (and maybe take over the feast itself), or whether its leaders get flown off for treatment. It didn’t have an applaudable track record while it was in power, nor does it offer any action plan to make us believe things would be different if it comes to power again. The left is far removed from the mass, and the religious parties are extremely non-inclusive.
The role of elections is to put possible candidates on trial and choose the best option for the country. But none of the options seems promising and none promises any real reformation. I, and many of the “non-political” people I’ve talked to, are finding it hard to be actually excited about the election, or any of the processions or counter-processions. We don’t want to get burned to death in the streets or face additional hurdles while already struggling to manage a liveable earning. No one is expecting any real change, and those who can afford it are migrating to other countries. It seems we are stuck in an oppressive and exploitative system, and the politics will keep pinning us down.
However, there are two things I wholeheartedly believe. Despite being constrained by oppressive governance, this land and its people have produced economic wonders throughout its history, and the people here never settled for subjugation. Maybe we are now struggling after generations of economic, political, cultural and intellectual trauma, but if we keep striving towards identifying and diminishing the oppressive elements at work, things will be better. But at present, I won’t put any hope on this election to be the turning point.
When we liberated ourselves from foreign colonisers, we were promised that this was the first time in a thousand years that this country would be ruled by the people, that we would not be treated merely as a source of profit, that we would have freedom and equal opportunities. But the tragedy is that when we allowed our politicians to take responsibility, instead of reforming the colonial structures of subjugation and exploitation, they started using them.