What it means to be a politician

Many of my friends joke about our politicians. They don’t believe that a politician — from whichever camp — could be beyond corruption or high-handedness. One look at the average citizen’s Facebook post, especially those written with specific politicians in mind, and it becomes evident that even youngsters these days have started to hate politics and politicians.

Praise Saifur Rahman, and you’re branded a diehard BNP supporter. Show sympathy or pay respect to any of the actions of Muhith, and you are seen by some as part of a corrupt legacy. I have always believed that just as a seven-year-old deserves attention and recognition for an accomplishment, a 70-year-old should also be given credit for a job well done, or at the very least be given constructive criticism.

We have seen our intellectuals go out of stock while running the country for more than 90 days. Who, then, would run the country, or drive it to its next possible trajectory?

Thank God I didn’t have to meet or mingle with politicians like Joynal Hazari or Shamim Osman. But I have met many of the Muhiths, the Matia Chowdhurys, the Annisul Haques. I have met politicians such as Tofael Ahmed, Amir Hossain Amu, Syed Ashraful Islam, Amir Khasru Mahmud Chowdhury, Osman Farruk, Mirza Fakhrul Islam Alamgir, Nazrul Islam Khan, Abdul Mannan Bhuiyan, Moyeen Khan, and even Saifur Rahman. Believe me, I found almost all of them to be good listeners, accommodative, and more importantly, tolerant of others’ opinions.

I try to meet Ms Matia Chowdhury every six-12 months. She is a tough lady. Her secretary once asked me a dozen questions on what a banker or a business professor had to do with an agriculture minister.

She is a no-nonsense person. If you try to go to her with any tadbir, you had better be sure about what you are speaking of, and how you carry your conversation. She might get furious at any moment and show you the door.

Despite this, she is quite clear-minded about the agriculture supply chain in a weakly-governed, emotionally-driven country such as ours. She is fully aware of “where the shoe pinches.” Unlike many of her comrades or university-teacher friends, she is supportive of the existence of many stakeholders within the distribution channel or across the value chain.

In 2013, I shared a car ride with Education Minister Nahid, from Maryland to Washington DC. During the almost two-hour ride, we discussed integrated education policy, students shifting from science to social science or business, madrasa education, and more interestingly, the phenomenon of having too many GPA-5s in the secondary and higher-secondary level. My friends would hate me, I know, as I began appreciating the problems and challenges he faced.

Some friends suggested that I keep away from Mr Muhith. I regret listening to them. They have not seen the person that is Muhith, while discussing many economic challenges in a country such as Bangladesh, sitting in his study or drawing room. The man has clear visibility about our nation’s destination, despite a host of man-made challenges and a hostile environment.

The other day, we went to see Industries Minister Amu. To my utter surprise, this legacy politician expressed his disgust against state-owned enterprises. He thought, while it might have been necessary to nationalise industries left by the Pakistanis in 1972, it is high time we shrink state control on enterprises, and let the emerging private sector manage this space.

If you have not interacted with Amir Khasru Mahmud Chowdhury, you will never know what a helpful person he is. One can get completely carried away by the profound sense of humour of the individual named Dr Osman Farruk.

You learn the real definition of “family values” when you speak with Dr Moyeen Khan, and see a committed politician when talking to Nazrul Islam Khan. And no matter who says what, Syed Ashraful Islam is the perfect gentleman, always siding with what is ultimately good for this nation.

I know if I post this on Facebook, I would only court curses. My esteemed critics would find more reasons to hate me, or expose me for cunningly asking for some “favours” from future ministers or politicians.

Hand on my heart, I can tell you, I have never requested any favours from any one of them. Most of them I have met, I know for sure who they are, how they are, and what their suggestions for taking this country out of ills or perils are. I have always thought that in order to fix things, we must let this country be run by its politicians. Let them learn from their mistakes, so they may progress to the next step.

Let each of our political parties put up a succession plan, create opportunities and space for the youth and professionals, and allow them to read the signs on the wall. Look at the Philippines, Indonesia, or even India today: Corrupt politicians goofing up big time, professionals being marginalised, and the common people becoming entirely frustrated and disgruntled. Yet, they have sprung back on their feet.

Their economies are flourishing, and the dysfunctional institutions are being salvaged, and, surprisingly, it’s the politicians who are in command. Bangladesh has to change, and it will change, but for that to happen, the “depoliticisation” of politics must stop.