In search of student leaders who truly represent us

We are living in a strange crisis of leadership. If you ask our generation to recall names of truly great leaders, the list almost always begins and ends with people who are long gone. We think of Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, Sukarno or Mahathir Mohamad. They belonged to the decades between the 1950s and 1980s, a period that shaped the world with voices that stood firm against injustice, colonialism, racism and oppression.

But what has changed since then? Why do we not see that kind of leadership anymore, especially among our own student leaders?
The truth is, leadership has gradually moved away from the values of trust, connection, and courage, and drifted into the shallow waters of publicity, short-term interests, and power games.

I remember one story my maternal uncle told me, a story he still carries with great pride. During the presidency of Ziaur Rahman, there was an Independence Day parade at the national stadium. My uncle was a young man then. After the event, Ziaur Rahman was leaving in his car. Suddenly, he paused, rolled down his window, and shook hands with my uncle and his friends. That one moment - short, simple, and very human- shaped how my uncle thought about politics for the rest of his life. For him, it was not about the grandeur of a president’s speech or the headlines in the papers. It was that warm gesture that made politics feel real, approachable, and personal. He felt connected.

Now compare that with our times. Today, most of what we know about politicians or even student leaders, comes from memes, scandals, or endless news of their moral and financial corruption. We rarely see a leader in flesh and blood, walking with us, talking to us, or listening to our worries. Instead, we see them as headlines, as subjects of gossip, as figures mocked online. Naturally, it becomes difficult for us to admire them or even to trust them.

This absence of human touch explains why we cannot easily find politicians with strong and bold personalities anymore. They do not feel like “ours.”

This gap becomes even clearer when we look at student politics on campus. During the days of DUCSU (Dhaka University Central Students' Union), campaigns used to take place in a way that seemed more like a media event than a real student movement. Hundreds of cameras followed candidates. Every handshake, every word, every smile was carefully staged.

As general students, we never felt that they were “one of us.” Instead of sitting next to us in the library, walking with us to class, or sharing our struggles in the hall canteen, they were busy performing in front of lenses.
The rise of new media has only made this worse. Now, short clips of candidates eating, walking, or greeting others dominate our feeds. Ironically, these staged “ordinary” moments strip them of their actual identity as students. They appear more like performers than companions in our struggles. Leadership cannot grow from rehearsed clips. It must come from lived experiences and shared struggles.

Another troubling trend is what I would call the politics of welfare handouts. Many student leaders today try to prove their worth by offering free water facilities, distributing food, or organising big events where they accommodate and feed hundreds of students.

But let us pause for a second. A student leader is, at the end of the day, a student. His or her resources are limited. If someone is feeding hundreds, setting up big welfare projects, or managing expensive events, the obvious question arises: where does the money come from?

On one hand, this reduces the dignity of general students. We are not beggars waiting for food packets; we are citizens in the making, with rights and voices. On the other hand, this practice shuts out ordinary students from politics. If leadership becomes dependent on how much money one can spend, then only those with economic or organisational backing can compete.

Most dangerously, it allows university authorities to escape their responsibilities. The hall administration, the campus authority, or the government should be providing facilities like clean water or decent food. If student leaders take over that role, authorities can easily say: “Look, the students are handling it themselves.” That is a dangerous trap.

What is the alternative then? For me, the answer lies in rejecting Machiavellian politics—the idea that manipulation, fear, and power games are the only way to rule. In campus politics, Machiavellian practices show up as intimidation, muscle power, or making students feel dependent on handouts. Leaders who practice this do not win our respect, they only create fear or transactional loyalty.

But real leadership is not about making people afraid of you. It is about making people feel safe with you. It is not about buying loyalty with food or favors, but about earning trust through honesty and courage.

We want leaders who can create real bonds with us. That means walking with us to class, sitting beside us in the library, or joining us at the canteen—not for cameras, but simply as fellow students. Leadership is not about staying in an office or appearing only during campaigns. It is about sharing our problems, listening to our frustrations, and even celebrating our small victories together. A leader who feels like one of us will always command more respect than someone who looks down from a distance.

We also want leaders who will stand with students when it comes to our rights. Whether it is about getting safer transport, better food in halls, or fair academic policies, student leaders should be at the front lines beside us, not above us. Their role is not to act as middlemen between us and the authorities but to carry our voices to the places where decisions are made. True leadership begins when a student leader puts the collective interest of students above their personal ambition.

Just as importantly, a student leader must have the courage to stay against oppression. Injustice may come from university authorities, from ruling political elites, or even from within their own groups. A leader who chooses silence in the face of oppression is no leader at all. We need those who dare to speak, even if it costs them privileges, because leadership is not about comfort, it is about conscience.

Finally, we want leaders who know how to listen and then act. Listening is not passive; it is the first responsibility of leadership. But listening alone is not enough. Leaders must push the authorities to address student problems in structural ways, not just through short-term charity or quick fixes. When a student leader forces the administration to improve facilities, ensure fairness, or uphold accountability, that creates lasting change. That is the kind of leadership we are still waiting to see.

I began by recalling the great leaders of the past—Mandela, King, Sukarno. They were not born extraordinary. They became extraordinary because they listened to ordinary people and stood with them. Our campuses today need the same spirit. We do not want leaders who are mini-politicians practicing manipulation and spectacle.

We want leaders who are students first, leaders who suffer with us, fight with us, and dream with us. Only then can our student leaders grow into the real politicians we need for the future. Because the truth is simple: without leaders who come from us, we will always end up with leaders who rule over us.

And that is a future none of us want.

* Mostafa Mushfiq is an undergraduate student of the Department of Anthropology,
University of Dhaka

* The views expressed here are the author's own.