After student union elections at major universities (DUCSU, JUCSU), various political debates have emerged across civil society in Bangladesh. These debates are relevant not only to campus politics but may also apply to national elections. Therefore, such discussions are necessary. Instead of lumping all the debates together, we can focus on specific issues at a time.
For instance, there is ongoing discussion about students’ increasing appreciation for donations and handouts — and how this influences elections. For now, let’s reflect on this issue and its political economy.
DUCSU, JUCSU, and RUCSU are student unions meant to represent the interests of students. Their core purpose is to negotiate with university or college administrations for better academic and campus life conditions. In essence, student unions are supposed to secure rights and facilities from the administration on behalf of students.
But here arises a question: What happens when student leaders or organisations, instead of pressing demands to the authorities, begin collecting resources from other sources to provide services and benefits to students themselves? Is there a deeper political significance to this shift?
By analysing the recent student elections, many political commentators have observed that organisations and candidates involved in giving donations and services performed better in the polls. Instead of negotiating with authorities, these groups took visible, student-friendly actions on campus and earned extra votes through service-oriented activities.
Since such arguments and observations seem credible to many, it leads to the conclusion that students today use different criteria to choose leaders compared to the past. The potential consequence is not hard to predict: even at the national level, many organisations may now turn more toward charity-based service activities. This raises an important question — whether on campus or elsewhere — who is funding these acts of service?
For example, it’s unrealistic for students alone to afford washing machines for dormitories or suddenly buy cows to host feasts. This implies that external sources are providing the funding. Similarly, organising mass iftar events or handing out gifts to hundreds of students would be impossible without outside financial support. This means such service-oriented efforts are not just campus-based or organic; they are tied to external networks — although ordinary students often don’t have the time or means to trace those networks. What they do know is the immediate benefit, which they readily accept.
This kind of service-based political model is often favoured by the state and other authorities. Reducing poverty, ensuring public services, addressing inequality, expanding access to education and healthcare — these are supposed to be the responsibilities of the state. The state exists to fulfill these roles, and governments are elected to carry out those responsibilities.
However, in Bangladesh and in many other countries, the state is increasingly failing to deliver on those obligations, leading to public dissatisfaction. In such situations, when citizens might otherwise demand systemic change, the spread of charity-based service activities offers a convenient “defense line” for the state. This helps deflect public anger, masking institutional failures and allowing governments and administrations to escape accountability.
Not just on campuses, but for the past few years, certain political and religious organisations have also been carrying out so-called 'pro-poor service activities' in rural areas. When the national election comes, we are likely to see some surprising outcomes resulting from these efforts.
Alongside this, we may also witness a growing competition around donation-driven service initiatives. As a result, the public's demand for structural, state-led solutions to systemic deprivation is likely to fade away.
This kind of socioeconomic condition presents an opportunity for the state, and similarly, for wealthy and ambitious groups in power politics. If the public remains content with receiving charitable services, the state can avoid increasing investment in critical sectors like education or healthcare.
Instead, the surplus budget can be used to strengthen the military and civilian bureaucracy. Over time, this allows the state to grow more powerful — while pushing rights-based, reform-oriented politics to the margins.
The benefits of service-based politics for the state are twofold: It reduces political pressure by offering superficial relief. It strengthens those in power.
That’s why such 'service work' often receives the active support, endorsement, and facilitation of all segments of authority within the state. This is true in many countries — because such practices help protect the interests of power-holders while simultaneously consolidating their control. The elite can even use this form of governance to entrench authoritarian rule with little resistance.
One inevitable side effect of this service-oriented politics is that social inequality becomes hidden or normalised. The unequal distribution of wealth and the exploitative nature of capital are masked and legitimised through acts of charity. Poverty and social suffering — which are in fact structural problems — are presented as if they can be solved with temporary aid and benevolence.
The 'politics of service' sends a specific message to society: “You don’t need to question how the rich make their money, or whether the state is failing to ensure fair distribution of resources. Don’t worry about broader social justice. Be grateful for whatever the wealthy are giving you. Be content, show gratitude, and allow them to act as your guardians.”
This kind of 'charity-centric mindset' harms both the state and society in two main ways: It prevents the state from becoming fairer and more efficient in resource distribution and public service delivery. As citizens demand less accountability, the state gradually becomes a tool serving the interests of a small, privileged group, rather than the broader population.
Secondly, the donation-and-handout model also hinders the political maturity of the public and slows legal and institutional progress toward a more just and equitable society. Since marginalised communities, out of necessity, cannot ignore the services and donations being offered — and may even suppress their own legitimate dissent in order to receive them — this model also obstructs the natural growth of democracy.
Instead of encouraging creative initiative, it fosters a 'charity-dependent mindset', especially among beneficiaries. In such a state, people begin to believe that any improvement in their lives is dependent on the mercy or generosity of external forces. They come to think that neither they nor their institutions are capable of changing the current reality. As a result, there is no perceived need to organise or demand structural change.
This mindset ends up reinforcing the existing authority and power of the privileged and powerful. It helps preserve and reproduce the traditional hierarchy of society.
The 'service model' seeks to freeze power relations within society, and in doing so, establishes a new form of cultural colonisation — making it feel essential and unavoidable. The 'underprivileged' remain perpetually dependent and submissive, always looking to others for support. As a result, there is no meaningful reform or development of the country’s own institutions. Instead of building a prosperous, self-reliant society, the culture becomes dominated by a widespread craving for benefits.
Considering all this, 'service' is not a neutral act of kindness. It is a very specific kind of political investment — one that is strategic and rooted in domination.
* Altaf Parvez is researcher
* The views expressed are of the writer's own.