Bangladesh Defense Forum
The military mind and clientelism
Abdul Monaiem Kudrot Ullah 10 July, 2024, 00:00
| New Age
A WAVE of surprise struck a cross-generational shockwave through Bangladesh's military following a recent announcement. The guiding force exposed a former leader, once at the helm of the military, and his inner circle for alleged corruption. Accusations of lining their pockets with ill-gotten gains, along with whispers of eroding public trust, led to the announcement. Shame now hangs heavy on the shoulders of many high-ranking officers and patriotic members of the armed forces. This revelation shatters the once-held image of Bangladesh's military as a beacon of progress in the fight against corruption. The allegations targeting those who once held the highest positions strike a deep blow to the institution's credibility. This incident throws Bangladesh back into a troubling cycle.
In the past, issues of drug abuse and unethical behaviour by some officers, along with retired personnel entangled in dubious business deals, tarnished the military's integrity. Back then, the military vowed 'zero tolerance' for internal corruption, even remaining neutral during the detainment of a former army chief on fraud charges. The current situation stands in stark contrast to the public's desire for a military known for its international competence and integrity. This prestigious institution, which consumes a significant portion of national resources, now finds its honour tarnished.
The 'military mind' is characterised by discipline, hierarchy, a clear chain of command and a focus on strategic objectives. In governance, this mindset translates into a preference for order, stability and control, often at the expense of democratic processes and freedom. Military leaders tend to prioritise national security and view themselves as guardians of the nation, sometimes leading to a paternalistic attitude towards civilian governance. In Bangladesh, clientelism is closely intertwined with corruption, where political favours are exchanged for loyalty and support, often at the expense of public resources and good governance. This nexus erodes trust in institutions, impedes development, and perpetuates a cycle of inefficiency and patronage-driven governance.
We wonder how the creeping onset of clientelism has corroded the character of military personnel. Initially driven by a noble sense of duty, many officers find themselves ensnared in a web of favouritism and patronage as they climb the hierarchy. The pursuit of personal gain and allegiance to influential patrons gradually supplants their commitment to integrity and public service. This insidious shift fosters a culture where loyalty to superiors is rewarded over merit and ethical conduct, leading to a profound degeneration of values within the ranks. Consequently, the very fabric of the military ethos is compromised, casting a long, dark shadow over the democratic aspirations of Bangladesh.
Nearly four decades ago, as I set foot in the Bangladesh Military Academy, I found myself amidst a cohort of the nation's finest young men who had scaled academic heights to earn their place. For many of us who enlisted in the 1980s and 1990s, the primary motivation was straightforward: to secure an honest and respectable livelihood. How can we believe that a gradual erosion of integrity began as these cadets ascended the ranks? This phenomenon certainly demands an academic review. In my thirty-six years in uniform, I learned to hold in high regard the principles of order, hierarchy, and an unbroken chain of command. Yet, it is precisely this disciplined training that can become a double-edged sword when it seeps into civilian life.
This is the crux of Bangladesh's dilemma — a persistent echo of the 'military mind' overshadowing our democracy. Politicians have failed to seize the opportunity to ethically control the military, allowing the military mindset to influence civilian governance. This failure has led to a governance structure where the principles of discipline and hierarchy overshadow democratic processes and freedoms. The intertwining of clientelism and corruption further complicates the situation, as political leaders often rely on patronage networks to maintain power, undermining efforts to establish transparent and accountable governance.
The ghosts of the British Raj still linger in Bangladesh. We inherited a military structure from the British, one that favoured certain ethnicities. This legacy of influence persists, a shadow cast long after independence. The liberation war was a defining moment, a birth cry for a new nation. But even then, the military stepped in as a supposed stabilising force. Sometimes, however, this 'stability' came at the expense of civilian control.
Bangladesh's political stage is a tense tango of distrust, shadowed by the stench of nepotism. Bangladesh's corridors of power reek of a sickening game. Those who hold the reins, intoxicated by their fleeting authority, dole out jobs and contracts like party favours to their closest kin and cronies. It's a grotesque carousel of self-interest, where the deserving are left spinning in the dust. But nepotism is just one tentacle of the monstrous corruption that throttles Bangladesh. State capture, the grand larceny of a nation's wealth, is another. Powerful figures, like puppeteers with invisible strings, manipulate the system for their own enrichment. Policies become grotesque marionettes, contorted to serve the whims of the privileged few, not the Bangladeshi people. Democracy and the rule of law are empty promises scrawled on billboards in a land where politicians, businessmen, and bureaucrats are partners in a grand, gluttonous feast.
Clientelism, the greasy underbelly of Bangladeshi politics, adds another layer of grime. Politicians, both the Awami League stalwarts and the BNP challengers, dangle promises and handouts before their constituents like scraps to be devoured. Government contracts, development projects, and plum jobs all become tools to barter for votes. These grand spectacles of populism, empty promises echoing in the wind, secure fleeting electoral victories. But beneath the surface, a rot festers — inefficiency and corruption — a cancer that eats away at the very foundations of democracy and good governance. Worse still, these political favours are not doled out blindly. Caste, community, and region become bargaining chips in a political game rigged from the start. Leaders become champions for specific groups, not the nation as a whole; their allegiance is bought and paid for with promises and patronage.
Bangladesh's political landscape has become a tangled web of self-interest, a Gordian knot that threatens to strangle the nation's future.
Fast forward, and Bangladesh still grapples with the hydra-headed monster of corruption and clientelism. Bangladesh simmers in a pot of boiling contradictions. The military, a supposed bastion of order, also wrestles with the seductive rot of clientelism — a system that rewards loyalty over competence, breeding corruption like barnacles on a neglected hull. We've seen these charades before — the hollow promises draped in the flag of progress. The Anti-Corruption Commission appears to be a leaky dinghy in a storm. The Right to Information Act appears as a captain's log filled with wishful thinking.
Friedrich Nietzsche famously remarked, 'He who fights too long against dragons becomes a dragon himself; and if you gaze too long into the abyss, the abyss will gaze into you.' This profound observation warns of the peril of confronting evil — an insidious risk of becoming tainted by the very corruption one seeks to eradicate. The vision of a corruption-free Bangladesh of the military-backed caretaker government post 1/11 was a lofty dream that never came to fruition. The military personnel, the so-called crusaders against corruption, were eventually withdrawn from the public eye, leaving their mission unfulfilled. This failure fostered a deep sense of frustration, exacerbated by the harrowing events of the BDR massacre. This sense of helplessness and insecurity gnawed at their psyche, paving the way for corruption to take root within the military echelons. In the manner of Robert Fisk, one might delve into the profound implications of this disillusionment.
The military, initially heralded as the vanguard of a new, untainted era, found itself ensnared in the very mire it sought to cleanse. The relentless struggle against corruption transformed these soldiers, warping their ideals and eroding their integrity. The BDR massacre served as a brutal reminder of their own fallibility, further deepening their discontent and despair. As a result, the once-noble crusade against corruption degenerated into a façade. Allegations of corruption began to flourish within the military sphere as the initial zeal was supplanted by a pervasive sense of disillusionment. The abyss into which they gazed had indeed gazed back, corrupting the very soul of the institution and leaving the dream of a corruption-free Bangladesh as a distant, unfulfilled promise.
This patronage culture, a cancer at the heart of the nation, infects every aspect of society. From government offices to courtrooms, the stench of corruption hangs heavy. The poorest suffer the most; they are denied essential services, and the rule of law is like a tattered flag flapping in the wind. This article isn't about petty annoyances such as the bribes demanded for a birth certificate or a doctor's visit. We're talking about systemic rot, politicians lining their pockets and using state resources as personal piggy banks.
The Bangladesh military — once a bastion of steely professionalism, a shield against the chaos — is now haunted by a familiar ghost: clientelism. This is the name they whisper in the fetid backstreets, where loyalty and favours are the currency that buys influence and resources. It's a system that weaves a spider's web through the ranks, its sticky strands paralysing the very thing the military needs most: effectiveness. Politicians, slick with unease, view competent military leaders as coiled vipers, ready to strike. They crave the comfort of mediocrity — a dull blade that won't threaten their grip on power. History, of course, whispers of coups and of generals morphing into powerbrokers. But here's the crux: this fear distorts reality. A sharp mind doesn't equate to a disloyal heart.
Public perception of the military is crucial for its legitimacy. As clientelism is perceived to be widespread, it erodes public trust and weakens the military's social standing. The public's confidence in the military as a professional and impartial institution is essential for national unity and security. Clientelism creates an uneven playing field, hindering efficiency and potentially leading to a situation where the most qualified personnel aren't in the most critical positions. This inefficiency can compromise the military's ability to respond to national security threats effectively. Clientelism creates fertile ground for corruption. Favours may be exchanged for financial gain, undermining the integrity of the military and jeopardising national security.
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Abdul Monaiem Kudrot Ullah 10 July, 2024, 00:00
| New Age
A WAVE of surprise struck a cross-generational shockwave through Bangladesh's military following a recent announcement. The guiding force exposed a former leader, once at the helm of the military, and his inner circle for alleged corruption. Accusations of lining their pockets with ill-gotten gains, along with whispers of eroding public trust, led to the announcement. Shame now hangs heavy on the shoulders of many high-ranking officers and patriotic members of the armed forces. This revelation shatters the once-held image of Bangladesh's military as a beacon of progress in the fight against corruption. The allegations targeting those who once held the highest positions strike a deep blow to the institution's credibility. This incident throws Bangladesh back into a troubling cycle.
In the past, issues of drug abuse and unethical behaviour by some officers, along with retired personnel entangled in dubious business deals, tarnished the military's integrity. Back then, the military vowed 'zero tolerance' for internal corruption, even remaining neutral during the detainment of a former army chief on fraud charges. The current situation stands in stark contrast to the public's desire for a military known for its international competence and integrity. This prestigious institution, which consumes a significant portion of national resources, now finds its honour tarnished.
The 'military mind' is characterised by discipline, hierarchy, a clear chain of command and a focus on strategic objectives. In governance, this mindset translates into a preference for order, stability and control, often at the expense of democratic processes and freedom. Military leaders tend to prioritise national security and view themselves as guardians of the nation, sometimes leading to a paternalistic attitude towards civilian governance. In Bangladesh, clientelism is closely intertwined with corruption, where political favours are exchanged for loyalty and support, often at the expense of public resources and good governance. This nexus erodes trust in institutions, impedes development, and perpetuates a cycle of inefficiency and patronage-driven governance.
We wonder how the creeping onset of clientelism has corroded the character of military personnel. Initially driven by a noble sense of duty, many officers find themselves ensnared in a web of favouritism and patronage as they climb the hierarchy. The pursuit of personal gain and allegiance to influential patrons gradually supplants their commitment to integrity and public service. This insidious shift fosters a culture where loyalty to superiors is rewarded over merit and ethical conduct, leading to a profound degeneration of values within the ranks. Consequently, the very fabric of the military ethos is compromised, casting a long, dark shadow over the democratic aspirations of Bangladesh.
Nearly four decades ago, as I set foot in the Bangladesh Military Academy, I found myself amidst a cohort of the nation's finest young men who had scaled academic heights to earn their place. For many of us who enlisted in the 1980s and 1990s, the primary motivation was straightforward: to secure an honest and respectable livelihood. How can we believe that a gradual erosion of integrity began as these cadets ascended the ranks? This phenomenon certainly demands an academic review. In my thirty-six years in uniform, I learned to hold in high regard the principles of order, hierarchy, and an unbroken chain of command. Yet, it is precisely this disciplined training that can become a double-edged sword when it seeps into civilian life.
This is the crux of Bangladesh's dilemma — a persistent echo of the 'military mind' overshadowing our democracy. Politicians have failed to seize the opportunity to ethically control the military, allowing the military mindset to influence civilian governance. This failure has led to a governance structure where the principles of discipline and hierarchy overshadow democratic processes and freedoms. The intertwining of clientelism and corruption further complicates the situation, as political leaders often rely on patronage networks to maintain power, undermining efforts to establish transparent and accountable governance.
The ghosts of the British Raj still linger in Bangladesh. We inherited a military structure from the British, one that favoured certain ethnicities. This legacy of influence persists, a shadow cast long after independence. The liberation war was a defining moment, a birth cry for a new nation. But even then, the military stepped in as a supposed stabilising force. Sometimes, however, this 'stability' came at the expense of civilian control.
Bangladesh's political stage is a tense tango of distrust, shadowed by the stench of nepotism. Bangladesh's corridors of power reek of a sickening game. Those who hold the reins, intoxicated by their fleeting authority, dole out jobs and contracts like party favours to their closest kin and cronies. It's a grotesque carousel of self-interest, where the deserving are left spinning in the dust. But nepotism is just one tentacle of the monstrous corruption that throttles Bangladesh. State capture, the grand larceny of a nation's wealth, is another. Powerful figures, like puppeteers with invisible strings, manipulate the system for their own enrichment. Policies become grotesque marionettes, contorted to serve the whims of the privileged few, not the Bangladeshi people. Democracy and the rule of law are empty promises scrawled on billboards in a land where politicians, businessmen, and bureaucrats are partners in a grand, gluttonous feast.
Clientelism, the greasy underbelly of Bangladeshi politics, adds another layer of grime. Politicians, both the Awami League stalwarts and the BNP challengers, dangle promises and handouts before their constituents like scraps to be devoured. Government contracts, development projects, and plum jobs all become tools to barter for votes. These grand spectacles of populism, empty promises echoing in the wind, secure fleeting electoral victories. But beneath the surface, a rot festers — inefficiency and corruption — a cancer that eats away at the very foundations of democracy and good governance. Worse still, these political favours are not doled out blindly. Caste, community, and region become bargaining chips in a political game rigged from the start. Leaders become champions for specific groups, not the nation as a whole; their allegiance is bought and paid for with promises and patronage.
Bangladesh's political landscape has become a tangled web of self-interest, a Gordian knot that threatens to strangle the nation's future.
Fast forward, and Bangladesh still grapples with the hydra-headed monster of corruption and clientelism. Bangladesh simmers in a pot of boiling contradictions. The military, a supposed bastion of order, also wrestles with the seductive rot of clientelism — a system that rewards loyalty over competence, breeding corruption like barnacles on a neglected hull. We've seen these charades before — the hollow promises draped in the flag of progress. The Anti-Corruption Commission appears to be a leaky dinghy in a storm. The Right to Information Act appears as a captain's log filled with wishful thinking.
Friedrich Nietzsche famously remarked, 'He who fights too long against dragons becomes a dragon himself; and if you gaze too long into the abyss, the abyss will gaze into you.' This profound observation warns of the peril of confronting evil — an insidious risk of becoming tainted by the very corruption one seeks to eradicate. The vision of a corruption-free Bangladesh of the military-backed caretaker government post 1/11 was a lofty dream that never came to fruition. The military personnel, the so-called crusaders against corruption, were eventually withdrawn from the public eye, leaving their mission unfulfilled. This failure fostered a deep sense of frustration, exacerbated by the harrowing events of the BDR massacre. This sense of helplessness and insecurity gnawed at their psyche, paving the way for corruption to take root within the military echelons. In the manner of Robert Fisk, one might delve into the profound implications of this disillusionment.
The military, initially heralded as the vanguard of a new, untainted era, found itself ensnared in the very mire it sought to cleanse. The relentless struggle against corruption transformed these soldiers, warping their ideals and eroding their integrity. The BDR massacre served as a brutal reminder of their own fallibility, further deepening their discontent and despair. As a result, the once-noble crusade against corruption degenerated into a façade. Allegations of corruption began to flourish within the military sphere as the initial zeal was supplanted by a pervasive sense of disillusionment. The abyss into which they gazed had indeed gazed back, corrupting the very soul of the institution and leaving the dream of a corruption-free Bangladesh as a distant, unfulfilled promise.
This patronage culture, a cancer at the heart of the nation, infects every aspect of society. From government offices to courtrooms, the stench of corruption hangs heavy. The poorest suffer the most; they are denied essential services, and the rule of law is like a tattered flag flapping in the wind. This article isn't about petty annoyances such as the bribes demanded for a birth certificate or a doctor's visit. We're talking about systemic rot, politicians lining their pockets and using state resources as personal piggy banks.
The Bangladesh military — once a bastion of steely professionalism, a shield against the chaos — is now haunted by a familiar ghost: clientelism. This is the name they whisper in the fetid backstreets, where loyalty and favours are the currency that buys influence and resources. It's a system that weaves a spider's web through the ranks, its sticky strands paralysing the very thing the military needs most: effectiveness. Politicians, slick with unease, view competent military leaders as coiled vipers, ready to strike. They crave the comfort of mediocrity — a dull blade that won't threaten their grip on power. History, of course, whispers of coups and of generals morphing into powerbrokers. But here's the crux: this fear distorts reality. A sharp mind doesn't equate to a disloyal heart.
Public perception of the military is crucial for its legitimacy. As clientelism is perceived to be widespread, it erodes public trust and weakens the military's social standing. The public's confidence in the military as a professional and impartial institution is essential for national unity and security. Clientelism creates an uneven playing field, hindering efficiency and potentially leading to a situation where the most qualified personnel aren't in the most critical positions. This inefficiency can compromise the military's ability to respond to national security threats effectively. Clientelism creates fertile ground for corruption. Favours may be exchanged for financial gain, undermining the integrity of the military and jeopardising national security.
To read the rest of the news, please click on the link above.
