American scholar Robert Rotberg is now 90 years old. He is a professor of political science at Princeton University and has long served as the president of the World Peace Foundation. He has spent much of his life researching the question of why modern nation-states fail. His most famous book is When States Fail: Causes and Consequences, which examines what happens when a nation-state fails.
In that book, published in 2004, Rotberg wrote that a nation-state fails when it cannot or is unwilling to fulfill its fundamental responsibilities. These core responsibilities include ensuring citizens’ security, maintaining law and order, and providing basic political rights and services to the population.
Today, Bangladesh is rapidly turning into a failed nation-state because it is incapable of fulfilling any of the fundamental responsibilities imposed upon it. To put it more bluntly, it is likely unwilling to fulfill them. I have never spoken so harshly or heartbreakingly about Bangladesh, nor did I ever imagine I would. However, events over the past few days have compelled me to confront this reality. I will cite four incidents as evidence.
1.
The killing of Sharif Osman Hadi was politically motivated, beyond doubt. Law enforcement agencies may claim that they had no prior intelligence about the attack. But why, fifteen days after the murder, has the killer still not been apprehended? We know from domestic and international sources exactly who was involved in the crime, yet the country’s law enforcement agencies are still groping in the dark.
Reports suggest that the main perpetrator has fled the country. How, in whose vehicle, and under whose protection? Some say the relevant authorities’ consent and support made his escape possible. If true, this indicates not only the state’s failure to fulfill its responsibilities but also its unwillingness to do so.
2.
In response to—or using—the killing of Osman Hadi, two major newspapers’ offices in Bangladesh were attacked. The offices were partially set on fire, and multiple cultural institutions were vandalised. Those leading these acts, described as part of sinister or extremist networks, were apparently not satisfied with merely setting fire to the newspapers’ buildings; they may also have intended to burn the journalists working inside.
One journalist trapped inside shared on Facebook that it was difficult to breathe due to the smoke. We now know that it was not just one or two individuals but a large, coordinated crowd that participated.
Nearly every television channel in Bangladesh broadcast the entire incident live, and we watched it from abroad. It is not as if government authorities were unaware of the potential danger. From the start, responsible officials from both newspapers had communicated with the government. Yet why was adequate security not provided?
Professor Robert Rotberg offered two possible answers to such questions twenty years ago: those responsible for ensuring security are either incapable of doing so, or they are unwilling.
One consequence of this failure—or unwillingness—to perform official duties is the normalisation of all forms of violence. That is exactly what has happened in Bangladesh. Mob rule is no longer an exceptional occurrence; it has become routine. And those who wish to exploit violence for political ends receive a clear signal from the government: no matter how severe the violence, there is little cause for concern.
3.
After such shocking incidents, no one on the government’s side has acknowledged failure in the discharge of their duties, offered an apology, or accepted responsibility—beyond issuing perfunctory expressions of regret. Resignation is not even being discussed. Had those in power been truly accountable, someone among them would have taken responsibility for these failures and stepped down.
One consequence of this failure—or unwillingness—to perform official duties is the normalisation of all forms of violence. That is exactly what has happened in Bangladesh. Mob rule is no longer an exceptional occurrence; it has become routine. And those who wish to exploit violence for political ends receive a clear signal from the government: no matter how severe the violence, there is little cause for concern.
3.
Six deans of Rajshahi University have resigned simultaneously. No, not voluntarily. A leader of the university’s central students’ union publicly named the six and demanded their resignations. Not satisfied with that, he went to the offices of the six professors and locked them. Their “crime” was that they were supporters of the previous government. Where is the law that says teachers may be removed from their posts on such grounds? And since when has it been permissible for a student leader, using the force of his loyal followers, to enforce such a decision?
Needless to say, neither the university authorities nor the government stepped in to fulfill their responsibilities. Either they were incapable of doing so, or they were unwilling.
4.
In Bhaluka, Mymensingh, a factory worker named Dipu Das was beaten to death on allegations of blasphemy. There has been no clear explanation of whether any blasphemy actually occurred, or what form it supposedly took. After killing him, his body was stripped naked, hung from a tree, and set on fire.
This unimaginable act of brutality did not happen in the blink of an eye; it unfolded over a considerable period of time. Several hundred people witnessed it. The question is: where were the police, where was the factory management, and where was the local civil administration? They were absent—either unable or unwilling to perform their duties.
From these four examples, it is evident that Bangladesh is steadily moving toward the kind of state Robert Rotberg defined through three specific characteristics of failure. More examples could be added, but that would only repeat the same conclusion.
In most civilized countries, multiple “pressure points” operate during times of crisis—such as the courts, the legislature, human rights commissions, and the media. At present, in Bangladesh, no pressure point other than the media is functioning effectively, and there is little immediate prospect of that changing. Therefore, the media must simultaneously assume the role of the nation’s conscience and its guide. I believe it is capable of fulfilling that responsibility.
To truly understand the suffering citizens endure when a state genuinely fails, one need only look at present-day Haiti, Somalia, or Sudan. To write that, five and a half decades after independence, we too may be cast into the same catastrophe makes my hand tremble. Yet it would not be a serious mistake to say that this is by no means an exaggeration.
This failure is not our destiny. The country belongs to all of us. Domestic and foreign interests may wish to see it fail, but why should we? We have the capacity to halt this decline, but doing so requires civic unity based on a minimum common programme. We have already seen an initial effort toward a national consensus against mob rule. For now, this initiative is limited to protests by citizens and civil society. For such resistance to be effective, however, participation by the country’s major political parties is essential. Protest alone is not enough; accountability is needed.
In most civilized countries, multiple “pressure points” operate during times of crisis—such as the courts, the legislature, human rights commissions, and the media. At present, in Bangladesh, no pressure point other than the media is functioning effectively, and there is little immediate prospect of that changing. Therefore, the media must simultaneously assume the role of the nation’s conscience and its guide. I believe it is capable of fulfilling that responsibility.
More than a century ago, in 1904, Joseph Pulitzer remarked that a nation’s rise and fall are linked to the rise and fall of its newspapers. Only newspapers that are honest, competent, and devoted to the public interest can protect democratic governance from hypocrisy and farce.
The challenge now before our media is this: will they allow the country to sink into hypocrisy and charade, or will they seek to save it by holding public morality up like a mirror? They alone will provide the answer—I hope.
#Hasan Ferdous is a journalist
#The views expressed are the author’s own.