No Room for Cynicism in Political Activism

In Bangladesh, where politics is often seen as an exclusive domain of the elites, public scepticism about political activism runs deep. Many perceive it either as a vehicle for power and patronage or as a romantic, sometimes naive attempt to reform a deeply entrenched system. However, such cynicism overlooks the distinct, nuanced landscape of Bangladeshi politics – a landscape shaped by colonial legacies, post-colonial transformations, regional influences, and deeply embedded cultural values. In this context, politics and culture are inseparably intertwined, with culture both defining the pathways for political engagement and setting limits on what is feasible.

Patronage politics exists across much of Asia and Latin America, but Bangladesh’s variant has a unique character, born from both historical legacies and contemporary realities. Conversations with seasoned activists often reinforce this perspective. Recently, a young but experienced political activist told me that the key focus of reform must be on the entrenched elite. This statement captures an essential truth about Bangladeshi politics: a powerful elite, bound by lineage, wealth, and influence, still wields significant control over political processes.

Political patronage in Bangladesh operates on an almost hereditary model, passing from one generation to the next. Unlike grassroots activism, which builds through community engagement, the Bangladeshi model often maintains power by forging strategic alliances with powerful individuals and families. This legacy creates a system of “political patrimony” that, by design, serves to perpetuate the same networks of privilege and control.

The typical routes into Bangladeshi politics can be broadly categorised into two types: family-based and activism-based. The family-based route follows a pattern familiar in other countries but particularly pronounced in Bangladesh. Here, young people who enter the political sphere through family ties often ascend to positions of leadership without the initiation or progression that would traditionally mark a political career. In these cases, political influence is something inherited rather than earned, making public perception of such leaders a blend of respect, expectation, and, at times, cynicism.

In the activist-driven pathway, a different story unfolds. Activists often begin with a clear ideology or purpose, rooted in a commitment to social issues, student movements, or civil causes. However, even this route is not free from the influence of patronage. Many activists eventually attach themselves to established political leaders or parties, depending on them for opportunities and resources. Unfortunately, this reliance on patronage can stifle independent voices, leaving only a small minority of activists who pursue ideologically driven, issue-focused agendas.

The activist pathway comes with unique hurdles, especially in Bangladesh. The student wings of major political parties, historically seen as one of the main avenues for entering politics, have, in many cases, grown synonymous with violent tactics and strong-arm strategies. Youth wings are mobilised as muscle power for party events, demonstrations, and elections, leaving limited room for sincere engagement with the public or for grassroots reform efforts.

Some may argue that these observations paint a bleak picture of our political landscape. However, they are a matter-of-fact reflection of the current system. Our political landscape has not fostered the rights-based individualism seen in some democracies. This divergence stems from deeply ingrained social conservatism, coupled with a reliance on patronage-based systems that define “power” as the ability to provide for and protect one’s community.

At a local level, politics is inherently tied to economic need. For many leaders, political success hinges on their ability to secure resources and jobs for their constituency. National leaders face even greater demands; Sheikh Hasina reportedly admitted that, during the early 2000s when her party was out of power, she spent about four crore takas per month to sustain her party’s activities – a staggering figure that speaks to the financial demands of operating within such a patronage-heavy system. In this environment, leaders are often bound to their constituents through economic obligation rather than ideological alignment, focusing on narrow constituencies rather than broader national concerns.

When I embarked on the journey of forming a new political party, this patronage system was one of the most significant challenges we faced. Our goal was to establish a national presence, appealing to people across the country, rather than limiting our vision to a specific constituency. We believed in engaging individuals on the basis of shared ideals and collective needs, not on promises of financial patronage. But this approach was anything but straightforward.

Without the vast financial resources that the established parties wield, we found ourselves compelled to rely on a different kind of connection with the public. Our platform had to be rooted in policy ideas, ideological clarity, and a shared commitment to the national interest. In practice, this meant working tirelessly to build a party network across the country – a network that, though modest in resources, was bound by shared vision and purpose. In my interactions with students, women’s groups, NGOs, religious scholars, and minority communities, I saw a common desire for honest representation and meaningful change, albeit tempered by scepticism born from years of disappointment.

To combat the inherent cynicism surrounding politics, it was essential to foster a culture of engagement built on mutual trust and respect. Our message had to be both aspirational and grounded in the realities that our fellow citizens face. Instead of focusing solely on winning votes, we focused on winning trust, and eventually hearts and minds. We spoke of accountability, transparency, and a social safety net for all using accessible language distinct from the platitudes often heard from established parties. 

We held inclusive events and open dialogues, making the political process more inviting. We started with local tea stalls and congregations of tens as opposed to thousands. It was the number of congregations and not the number of people per congregation that was our initial focus. We organised community meetings where citizens could share their ideas, concerns, and expectations, rather than simply listen to politicians speak. Over time, this approach began to bear fruit, as more people saw our commitment to an inclusive democracy not just as campaign rhetoric but as a philosophy we were actively embodying.

My journey into politics was not a calculated move; it was the culmination of a lifetime of experiences, observations, and deep-seated convictions. I did not inherit a political legacy, nor did I have the advantages that come with being part of a family wielding political influence. Instead, my path was shaped by a determination to contribute to the development of a better Bangladesh – one built on principles rather than power. This unconventional entry meant facing scepticism from both within and outside the political sphere, as many people struggled to believe that a movement could succeed without the traditional structures of patronage and influence.

This journey has taught me invaluable lessons about the power of genuine connection and the potential for meaningful change when people come together around shared goals. Political activism, in its truest form, is not about seeking positions of power but about dedicating oneself to a vision that transcends personal ambition. In my interactions with young people across the country, I have been continually inspired by their idealism, resilience, and hope for the future. These experiences have affirmed my belief that there is a place for idealism in politics, even in a context as challenging as Bangladesh.

I have encountered countless stories of families struggling to make ends meet, of communities vulnerable to climate disasters, and of individuals burdened by inadequate healthcare and education services. Bangladesh, despite its rapid economic growth, remains a country where many people lack the fundamental protections they need to live with dignity. Therefore, a comprehensive social safety net is not just a policy, but a necessity, and a promise to protect our most vulnerable citizens. Envisioning a Bangladesh where every person, regardless of their social standing or economic background, has access to affordable healthcare, quality education, and meaningful employment opportunities, is essential for creating a resilient society where people feel secure enough to invest in their futures and contribute to the nation’s development. Such a safety net requires not only policy changes but a transformation in the way we view the government’s role in people’s lives. It requires idealism over cynicism. 

In the face of overwhelming obstacles, the next generation of Bangladeshi activists must recognise the importance of breaking free from the patronage model. Our nation’s future will be determined not by inherited power structures but by the courage and conviction of those who dare to challenge them. I encourage young activists to embrace the notion of politics as public service rather than self-service. True political change will come not from promises of personal gain but from a commitment to policies that serve the people.

Cynicism may seem like a practical response to the entrenched patronage networks that dominate our politics. Yet, cynicism is ultimately a barrier to change. The future will belong to those who believe in the power of collective action, guided by a commitment to transparency, accountability, and inclusion. Political activism, in this sense, is not about turning away from the realities of power but about transforming them from within, using the tools of dialogue, empathy, and shared vision.

In this effort, each of us has a role to play. Whether through grassroots organising, public advocacy, or personal reflection, we must strive to create a Bangladesh that reflects the values of justice, equality, and opportunity for all. For those who are willing to step forward, the journey may be challenging, but the reward – the possibility of a truly representative democracy – is well worth the effort.●

Bobby Hajjaj is the chairman of the Nationalist Democratic Movement (NDM).