The Sociology and Future of the Revolution in Bangladesh

These days, Bangladesh is celebrating the one-year anniversary of the popular revolution it carried out last July. It’s a country surrounded by India on three sides and the sea on the fourth—which means it has no neighbors besides India. It has no land access to any other country, and reaching anywhere else by sea is too far, leaving air travel as its only viable connection to the outside world.

Though it gained independence from India in 1947 as part of Pakistan, this union with Pakistan only lasted 24 years. Over that time, the geographic pull of India—politically, culturally, ideologically—drew it away from Pakistan. In 1971, it broke away again, this time from Pakistan, only to gradually fall into India's orbit. Bangladesh's geography, in short, continues to define its fate—and likely always will.

Geography may be destiny, sure—but only to a point. Even in the heart of India, a Muslim-majority country still manages to grow and assert itself. People's desire to break free of their geographic confines always finds a way.

Interestingly, in Bangladesh, the idea of progress—of modernity, of becoming more rational and efficient—is often equated with “becoming more like India.” The kind of mimicry and alienation we once saw in Turkey with Westernization, Bangladesh experiences through Indianization.

Over the years, the state has cultivated an elite class convinced that following India’s path—or becoming dependent on it—is the way to overcome the country's unfortunate fate. But among the wider, more rooted segments of society, these elites are seen as disconnected copycats.

Their privileged status, however, stems from the country’s post-1971 tilt toward India. That’s why last July’s revolution wasn’t just against Hasina—who had come to represent authoritarianism, Islamophobia, repression, and shameless corruption—it was also a furious outburst against India, which had propped her up for years.

After the revolution, Hasina’s party, the Awami League, where these elites are concentrated, was banned under the Anti-Terror Law by the interim government and barred from contesting elections. This signals a new political current rooted in true independence—and one that explicitly pushes back against Indian influence.

Still, Bangladesh’s geography is what it is, and that’s not going to change. So even as this new wave of independence surges, the country is expected to pursue a more balanced foreign policy—opening a new chapter with India while also building relations with the US and China.

Despite their parties being banned, the pro-India elites still have platforms within society. And they’re not shy about voicing their Islamophobic clichés and pandering to the West—especially in opposition to the more local-minded elite voices finally being heard.

With a population of 171 million squeezed into 147,570 km², Bangladesh is one of the most densely populated countries on Earth. Managing this population and meeting basic needs is incredibly difficult—but such challenges also come with great potential.

Unfortunately, instead of good governance, the country has been plagued by corrupt regimes addicted to foreign ideological fixations—whether secularist, Westernist, or pro-India. These distractions have served as excuses for incompetence.

Bangladesh’s terrible municipal governance, for example, can’t just be blamed on population density. With the right mindset and sincerity, this population could be seen not as a burden, but as an incredible opportunity.

The chaos you see on the streets—heavy traffic, constant movement—is actually a sign of a bustling economy in its own right.

Dhaka is home to hundreds of thousands of rickshaws—three-wheeled bicycle taxis that can carry two passengers. Some are electric, some pedal-powered, some hybrid (pedaled when the battery runs out).

Locals told me there are between 1 and 1.5 million rickshaws in Dhaka alone. That means 1.5 million people working in just this sector. It’s low-income work, sure, but it’s work. No license, no tax, no registration required—it’s a low-barrier job that sustains a lot of people.

These rickshaws define Dhaka’s look and feel. That’s why the city is often called “The City of Rickshaws.”

There are no traffic lights in the city. But despite the chaos, traffic rarely grinds to a halt, and accidents are surprisingly rare. Rickshaws zip and weave with incredible agility, carving paths through seemingly impossible jams like floodwaters finding their way through a crack.

Bangladesh also has one of the world’s youngest populations. With nearly 180 universities—both public and private—it’s sitting on a massive human capital advantage.

English is a compulsory subject in school, so many educated Bangladeshis speak it well, making global integration easier. The country already attracts investment for labor-intensive industries, but there’s a growing desire among the more nationally minded to see Bangladesh shine not just as a cheap labor hub—but as a wellspring of skilled human capital.

As I said before, the young people I spoke to were incredibly bright, intellectually curious, and highly trained in their fields. They’re in touch with global trends and deeply aware of their country’s realities.

This isn’t just a labor force—it’s the future brain trust of a civilization-in-the-making. I can’t be the only one who sees that.

The July Revolution anniversary isn’t just a celebration—it’s a forum. A series of conferences and events where all the revolutionary forces come together to debate and envision the country’s future.

Under the leadership of Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus, the interim government is already working on a new constitution. These events are opening the process to broader participation.

The atmosphere is reminiscent of the early Arab Spring days—though there’s a clear determination not to repeat its mistakes.

At many of the gatherings I attended—or was invited to speak at—people kept asking me how to avoid the counterrevolutions that crushed the Arab Spring.

In these discussions, Türkiye’s own history with military coups and the resistance of July 15 often came up, both as a warning and a source of hope.

There’s a deep, genuine affection here for Türkiye and for Erdoğan—and that spirit was palpable in every conversation.

But let’s continue from there next time.