Why do country’s politicians not wish to improve people’s cultural standards

Everyone will admit that the standard of culture is not rising; rather, it is in steady decline. It is not that culture is never spoken of, but it is not discussed with the importance it deserves. Culture is, in fact, greater and deeper than civilisation. It is greater in its breadth, for culture embraces almost everything. Economics forms its foundation, but geography, human relationships, understanding of nature, values, customs, education, food habits, art and literature—nothing is excluded. Civilisation itself is a part of culture. In short, culture is the self-identity of a people. This identity is more trustworthy than any other. Education is often called the backbone of a nation, but in truth it is not education, it is culture. Education itself is a rightful part of culture.

One also sees that even after a civilisation dies, the symbols of its culture survive. They remain in history, heritage, literature, architecture, music, folklore, even fairy tales. In this sense, civilisation cannot match culture.

Culture also runs deep. People’s beliefs and disbeliefs, religion and scientific thought, systems of government, laws, and indeed values themselves all flow within culture. It would not be wrong to say that culture is the essence of civilisation. The fact that man is both a social and intelligent being is reflected in culture more than anywhere else. Civilisation is usable; culture resides both within and without.

But whatever we may say in words, as a people of Bangladesh we are not accustomed to giving culture its due importance. Politicians are the ones who run the state, and the state rules over society. It is seen that politicians talk of everything but remain largely silent on culture. Why is this so? One reason may be that politicians do not practise what in an aesthetic sense is called culture. They do not love literature, show little enthusiasm for music, and though they may use works of art for decoration in their homes, they lack true appreciation. Many of them have poor taste. Their language is often noisy, sometimes vulgar.

Their lack of enthusiasm for culture and their poor cultural taste may also stem from ignorance. Culture is nourished by the activity of knowledge. But the value of knowledge is declining across the world. Technology is prized more highly than knowledge. Interest in literature is waning. The Nobel Prize is the highest honour, yet one year the literature prize was given to a songwriter who himself was reluctant to accept it, and in another year it was withheld altogether due to internal disputes among the organisers. Whatever happens in the wider world, we must admit that our own condition is not good.

Daily newspapers once carried literary pages that drew much interest; now the space is smaller, and readers’ attraction has not grown. In Bangladesh there is no longer any regularly published monthly literary magazine. Many weeklies with large readerships have disappeared. Such a state has never before been seen in this country. Books are still published, but reviews are rare. All this is linked to politicians’ indifference towards culture. They are neither eager to promote cultural development nor supportive of it; most are in fact pleased to see that people’s cultural awareness is not advancing. The mainstream politicians, the nationalists of past and present, are keener on looting and smuggling wealth. They favour grand development projects, because these allow them to embezzle large sums. Corruption itself has become their policy. In short, they have been, and still are, travellers along the dark path of capitalism.

There was once a brighter side to capitalism—love of country, investment in production, devotion to learning, appreciation of art and literature. But Bangladesh’s nationalist rulers lack the inner strength to adopt this brighter side. One might expect socialists, as opponents of nationalists, to foster knowledge and culture, and indeed they once did. But how could they nurture enlightenment when crushed by nationalist repression? The nationalists made it their duty to suppress the socialists, and they never deviated from that duty. They sought to lure them, and failing that, sought to destroy them through imprisonment, torture and killing. Instead, they embraced capitalism’s greed for profit, self-centredness and consumerism—qualities which are not allies of healthy culture, but enemies.

The capitalist leaders of politics do not even want the people’s cultural standards to rise. For they do not wish the people to be conscious. The great outcome of cultural progress is heightened public awareness. Why should those in power wish for that? Rather, they prefer the people to remain sunk in the darkness of ignorance and passivity. They want them to accept without questioning, to avoid the light, to grow weaker instead of stronger in spirit.

This is why our state shows no genuine interest in public education. Incredible though it may sound, 32,000 primary schools are without head teachers, and for 22 years the education budget has remained fixed at the same percentage, the lowest in South Asia. In the latest SSC examination, over 400,000 registered candidates were absent, said to be due to parents’ financial constraints, students taking up work, migration abroad in search of livelihood, and early marriage of girls. Yet political leaders declare, as do others, that education is our only hope, since our vast population must be turned into a creative resource rather than left as a burden—and for this there is no way other than education.

In just two years, the number of students in government primary schools in Dhaka city has fallen by 64%. By contrast, enrolment in Qawmi madrasas has surely risen manifold, and students in kindergartens have also increased. Thus society continues to divide into two poles—the rich and the poor. A tiny portion of the middle class is rising, but the larger part is sinking downwards, reflected in the growth of kindergartens for the better-off, the silent expansion of Qawmi madrasas, and the mounting plight of government primary schools. This picture is not new, but the speed of division is now far greater.

Meanwhile the three streams of education continue. One is madrasa education, itself divided into several streams. Even in the main stream, Bengali-medium, there has arisen the nuisance of English-version schools. The promise was for one unified system of education, with the medium being the mother tongue. Up to class five there was no need to learn another language; after that students would learn a foreign one, mainly English. That dream lies in ruins.

Education is not uniting the nation but deepening class divisions, obstructing the creation of a common culture. Kindergarten is also profitable business. Qawmi madrasas are inexpensive to set up—mosques suffice—and their curricula are easy to prepare. Kindergarten teachers are paid salaries far above what government primary teachers dare even to demand.

The education adviser to the interim government has said that due to limited resources teachers cannot be given their due status. This is true both ways—teachers lack respect, and allocations for them are meagre. But this reality is not the product of some political earthquake; it is the outcome of a so-called normal and continuous process of development. The rulers of the state are not troubled about ordinary people’s education. Their concern is how to send their own children to English-medium schools, and as soon as possible, abroad.

Sirajul Islam Chowdhury: Emeritus Professor, University of Dhaka