1. The Sound Hidden Inside Silence
In politics, sometimes the loudest statement comes through saying nothing at all. Our time feels exactly like that. Everyone is talking, yet very few are truly saying anything meaningful. Some speak through live broadcasts, others through posts, talk shows or seminars — but amid the endless noise, truth itself seems exhausted.
Whether in diplomacy or politics, “calibrated silence” has now become a major strategy. Those who do not understand silence often fail to understand presence as well. Power does not always arrive with loud declarations. Sometimes it comes quietly, coldly, with a confidence that needs no explanation.
That is precisely what we are witnessing in Bangladesh’s current political reality. Everyone talks about alliances, yet no one appears fully committed to one. Everyone demands local government elections, yet no consensus exists over the timing. Everyone speaks of reform, but there is a deep silence over where the limits of reform should lie.
That silence itself has become the strongest language in politics.
History repeatedly shows that power rarely introduces itself as power. Instead, it dresses itself in morality. One group says the state must be saved, another says democracy must be protected, while others claim to defend the people. Yet in the end, each carries its own political arithmetic of power.
This is why excessive demands for “absolute transparency” can also become dangerous. Power often hides best behind the claim: “I am revealing everything.” Our society has now developed a culture where people seek positions more than truth. Which camp someone belongs to, whom they oppose, or whom they support — these increasingly replace truth itself.
Rabindranath Tagore once wrote: “Truth is harsh, and I have loved the harsh.” But our age seems to say the opposite: “Truth is uncomfortable, so let us avoid it.”
And this culture of avoidance eventually becomes dangerous — not only for the state and society, but also for individual lives.
2. Disease Does Not Affect Only the Body — States Can Fall Ill Too
The recent outbreak of measles in Bangladesh, controversies over vaccines, allegations of concealed information and attempts to evade responsibility suggest that we are facing not merely a public health crisis, but also a crisis of trust.
When disease spreads, people first look to the state for reassurance. But if the state becomes confused, politics begins using information as a weapon, and experts divide themselves into partisan camps, then distrust spreads faster than the virus itself.
The saddest reality is that almost every issue in our society is now filtered through political identity. Vaccines become political, healthcare becomes political, even death becomes political. On social media, one group dismisses science as conspiracy, while another ridicules public concern as ignorance. Ordinary people are left confused in the middle.
It is a strange era where truth is silenced while rumours are handed microphones.
There was once a time when village doctors symbolised trust. Today, people often consult YouTube before consulting physicians. The explosion of information has not necessarily made us wiser; in many cases, it has made us more restless.
Ironically, we now live in an age where someone can become an “expert” in international politics, conspiracy theories, vaccine science, economics and military strategy within five minutes — provided they have Facebook and a few short videos.
Humayun Ahmed once observed: “In Bangladesh, everyone knows everything, except the work they are supposed to do.”
Our present condition feels much the same. There is discussion, excitement and blame, but major gaps remain in institutional preparedness, healthcare capacity and trust-based communication with the public.
States, too, suffer from diseases. And perhaps the most dangerous disease of a state is arrogance.
The moment institutions begin believing “we cannot make mistakes”, the seeds of decline are already planted.
Empires throughout history were not always destroyed by external attacks; many collapsed within the unfamiliar territory of their own arrogance.
3. Degrees, Leadership and the Harsh Lessons of Reality
A recurring question in modern political debate is whether a national leader must be highly educated.
It is an important question because the modern world is extraordinarily complex. Economics, artificial intelligence, geopolitics, technology, security and climate change have made governance far more difficult than before. Educated, globally aware and analytically capable leadership is certainly valuable.
Yet history also teaches us that degrees alone do not guarantee leadership.
George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Harry S. Truman, John Major, James Callaghan, Lech Walesa, Lal Bahadur Shastri, Ranasinghe Premadasa and Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva all governed states without conventional university degrees.
On the other hand, many Nobel laureates, internationally respected intellectuals and highly educated leaders have also faced fierce criticism, administrative crises or political failure once in power.
Education matters, but it is not the only ingredient of leadership.
Leadership requires wisdom, emotional intelligence, the courage to make difficult decisions at the right moment, respect for institutions and, above all, the humility to understand the limits of power.
South Asia has long suffered from two extremes. Either we worship degrees excessively, or we romanticise the idea of the “uneducated but popular” leader. Both extremes are dangerous.
A leader without knowledge can endanger a state. Yet an overly intellectual leader disconnected from reality can also fail.
Politics is ultimately the art of dealing with people. A state cannot run on theory alone, but neither can it survive on emotion alone.
There is another irony in our society. If someone speaks two lines in English, many immediately assume they are highly intellectual. Yet if someone speaks plainly and simply, they are often considered less knowledgeable.
History, however, shows that many of the world’s most influential leaders spoke in remarkably simple language.
Because in the end, people do not feel the power of ornamental language — they feel the power of sincerity.
4. Who Writes History — The Victors or the Storytellers?
We grew up hearing the phrase: “History is written by the victors.” But today’s world increasingly suggests that history is written by storytellers.
Those who control public attention shape narratives. And once a narrative becomes established, it eventually transforms into “reality”.
In today’s world, the rarest currency is neither money nor influence — it is attention.
Who can direct public attention, and where, has become the ultimate form of power.
This is why politics no longer happens only on the streets; it happens on screens as well. Wars are no longer fought only at borders; they are fought through algorithms. Leadership is no longer built only through speeches; it is built through narratives.
A single post, video or artificially manufactured controversy can alter public opinion within moments.
That is why those who remain calm, who can hear silence within noise, and who do not lose patience amid collective excitement are often the ones who ultimately prevail.
Not every retreat is a defeat. Some departures are merely preparations for reaching higher ground.
Bangladesh’s politics is now passing through precisely such a phase of waiting. No one is revealing everything openly, yet everyone is calculating. No one is moving too quickly because everyone understands that time itself has become the biggest factor.
The truth is that time wins many battles where even truth itself loses.
Reality changes rapidly, but human memory changes even faster. That is why, in the politics of power, image often defeats truth.
Yet history has one cruel habit: it may delay, but it never forgets.
Conclusion
Ours is an age overflowing with words but impoverished in wisdom. Everyone is speaking, but very few are listening. Everyone wants to remain visible, but few understand the strength of absence.
Perhaps the greatest crisis facing the state, politics and society today is not economic or even political. It is a crisis of attention, patience and self-criticism.
Leadership requires education, but character matters even more than degrees. Politics requires strategy, but trust matters more than strategy. And a state requires strength, but humility matters more than strength.
Because history ultimately remembers not those who merely sought power, but those who survived the test of time.
Writer: President, Center for Governance Studies