The passion for taking Bangladesh back from the grip of near-self-immolation was in evidence at the premier of a documentary called Deshantori (The Migrant), in London in early February. Currently causing a stir among Bangladeshis both in and out of the country, Deshantori explores the deep frustration of today's young generation. It also asks why, 35 years after independence, a generation that was once making sacrifices to create a nation is now making sacrifices to leave the country by any means. During the discussion that took place after viewing the film, blame for this dynamic was invariably aimed at Bangladesh's political parties. Indeed, the parties form a topic – and target – that has been on the lip of every Bangladeshi in recent weeks.
As Dhaka's military-backed interim government gets on with its anti-corruption agenda amid cautious cheers from the public, Bangladeshis at home and abroad are arguing over what kind of government system can both be functional and deliver for the long-beleaguered people. With civil-society leaders moving towards a more hands-on political approach at the same time as politicians are being thrown in jail for alleged corruption, Bangladesh seems to be going through its biggest round of political shifts since the restoration of democracy in 1990. There was a widespread sense of the surreal when, during the first week of February, agitated MPs from the Awami League and the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), who otherwise could never even sit together for a meeting, were suddenly packed up side by side in micro-buses and taken to Dhaka's Central Jail. The tables had turned. As news-paper story after story is published detailing the misdeeds of the immediate past BNP-Jamaat-e-Islami government, the picture that is emerging is not pretty. It portrays a reckless regard for rule of law and for Bangladesh's institutions. Whether the transgressions were as monstrous as misappropriating thousands of crores of taka and crippling the power sector by taking massive bribes from incompetent companies, or as relatively paltry as localised stealing of relief material, the fingerprints of former ruling-party MPs seem to be everywhere.
Nowhere is this damage more distressing to see than on the country's constitutional offices. The Public Service Commission, for example, the body responsible for appointing officers to public bodies, appears to have been practically selling question papers and government jobs to the highest bidders. The chief of the commission has been accused of sitting with a computer analyst and updating the result sheets of administration entrance examinees in exchange for handsome rewards. The surprise is not that such a thing had been taking place, but how open and unchallenged it was, with everyone from bottom to top sharing in the loot.
The malaise appears to be so deep-rooted that there is worry that as soon as the political parties are back in power, there will be an inevitable return to business-as-usual. Hence, there are petitions circulating, asking for a referendum to keep the interim government in power for longer than initially indicated. Regardless of the practicality of such a proposal, the current government is clearly enjoying huge popularity, and has larger changes in mind. Initially coming in with a mandate to do nothing more than hold a free and fair election by the end of January, the government's focus is now becoming more diverse and proactive. The advisers are taking policy decisions on matters such as corruption, the power sector and upgrading the Chittagong sea port – long-term issues that beg the question as to just how long they intend to remain in power.