I write these words as a dedicated activist of the Awami League—not as an outsider or an opponent, but as one from within. Consequently, I shall speak plainly, without prevarication. And let it be understood that this piece is intended solely for the eyes of Awami League workers—and no one else.
As a party historically rooted in the struggles of the poor and the middle class, the ultimate priority of the Awami League government has always been the economic emancipation of the people. The absolute devotion of the destitute and the rich cultural heritage of the middle class—these twin forces constituted the bedrock of the Awami League’s strength. The ideals, values, and culture of the middle class served as our deep-seated roots, while the proletariat functioned as our formidable trunk and branches. In tandem, these two forces rendered the Awami League historically invincible.
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Only Sheikh Hasina could assure Economic Independence of Nearly 50 Million People
The Awami League government formed following the 2008 general election maintained this exact focus. Since that pivotal moment, the administration has rescued tens of millions of citizens from the clutches of extreme poverty. As part of this crusade for economic liberation, electricity reached the remotest villages, housing was provided, and social safety nets were comprehensively expanded. Nearly fifty million people were given a genuine opportunity to stand on their own two feet financially. As a party worker, I declare this to be our crowning historical achievement.
Yet, it is precisely within the womb of this triumph that our greatest political failure was conceived. I urge you to read on with patience rather than losing your temper. Let it also be known that I am no opponent of this development; in fact, I am among those who rejoice in it the most. I constantly invoke the blessings of the Almighty upon our Leader for this monumental feat. However, my focus here lies elsewhere. Pray, lend your full attention to that.
Observe closely: when an impoverished day-labourer is entirely consumed by the daily struggle for sustenance, they seldom indulge in ritualistic or institutionalised religious practices—even if they are devout at heart. Nor do they actively participate in civic organisations or ideological politics. For them, politics, economics, and culture are encapsulated in a single, desperate plea: “the alleviation of hunger, a modest roof over our heads, and clothes on our children’s backs.” Whichever party championed these causes and worked towards them became their party. This is precisely how the Awami League historically secured the political agency of the masses. Needless to say, because the Awami League repeatedly delivered on its promises, that agency grew even more resolute. The working-class masses did not merely cast their ballots for the Awami League time and again; they took to the streets, risking life and limb during our political struggles. Everything was as it should be—up to this point, all was well.
The Curse of Prosperity: How Sheikh Hasina’s Economic Triumph (Economic Independence of Nearly 50 Million People) Cost Us Our Politics
However, once that same labourer secures the certainty of a month’s worth of food, does that basic survival security remain their sole consideration? Have we ever paused to contemplate the profound transformation that occurs within their inner psychology?
The reality is that once these primal needs are guaranteed, the public develops a new kind of hunger—a social hunger, a hunger for dignity, and a hunger for political participation. They desire a seat at the table; they wish to speak, to be acknowledged, to be sought after, and to be valued. They crave a “community of their own” and a recognition of their status within that community.
It is precisely in this arena that the Awami League—and the secular, progressive political forces aligned with the spirit of liberation—have suffered a catastrophic failure.
We delivered economic liberation, but we failed to initiate any structured effort to satisfy their evolving social and political yearnings. We failed to recognise or validate this new hunger; we formulated no programmes to address it, nor did we offer them a social platform or community to belong to. We failed to organise them, denied them a vibrant cultural space, and neglected to institutionalise regular social activities that included them.
Naturally, one only designs such interventions when one acknowledges the underlying crisis in the first place. Tell me truthfully—how many of us across the country actually perceived this existential dilemma? Wherever I attempted to broach this subject within party circles, I was met either with sheer indifference or branded an elitist intellectual.
This profound negligence systematically eroded the bond between us and our most loyal supporters. When we failed to reach out to them, engage them, or embrace them, it was only natural that a third party would step into the vacuum. Religious organisations capitalised precisely on this neglect. They embedded themselves in their daily lives, provided them with a social and religious fraternity, organised regular gatherings, held discussions, and fostered a genuine sense of belonging to a community. Consequently, the masses naturally gravitated towards them. People migrated there because human nature abhors a vacuum. In this manner, many of our own kin drifted away. Despite working tirelessly for their upliftment for years, we found ourselves sidelined like the tragic, discarded queen Kanchanmala, while these opportunistic factions—acting like the deceptive pretender Kakonmala—merely offered a few superficial platitudes and effortlessly emerged as the saviours and champions of the grassroots in the eyes of the public.
To compound this crisis, fuel was added to the fire by the conduct of our “overnight aristocrats”—the nouveau riche leaders. I witnessed numerous field-level leaders behaving not as representatives of the people, but as feudal landlords of their domains. Far from engaging with ordinary citizens, they would not even deign to acknowledge the greetings of dedicated party workers. This arrogant posture, rather than drawing people toward the organisation, repelled them manifold. A significant portion of the newly prosperous demographic, who ought to have formed the vanguard of our political strength, became psychologically alienated from the Awami League purely due to our conduct. They began to feel that the party did not accord them the dignity they rightfully deserved.
The most painful realisation is that we created this reality ourselves. We delivered the development, but we utterly failed to erect the social architecture necessary to sustain its political foundation. Those who purchased party titles or expanded their influence through questionable means built insulated fiefdoms of power around themselves instead of forging organic relationships with the public. Consequently, the party withered as an institution, transforming in many locales into an object of public resentment.
We must understand with absolute clarity: politics cannot survive on infrastructure and economic development alone. One must afford dignity to the people, sit among them, listen to their grievances, and make them feel genuinely “ours.” Any leader incapable of fostering an organic connection with the masses, who refuses to sit with them, and who turns a blind eye to their suffering, has no business practicing the politics of the Awami League.
That we granted economic emancipation remains an indisputable truth. Yet, if we cannot stand beside these emancipated citizens to secure their social standing, their cultural identity, and their avenues for civic participation, their gratitude will never translate into ballots, nor will it manifest as institutional strength for the party.
We must confront this harsh truth immediately—failing which, any prospect of a revival or long-term survival will remain entirely beyond our reach.
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