When chaos becomes our normal way of life

Our nation is making headlines, but unfortunately, we are attracting attention for all the wrong reasons.

Recently, a political leader in Portugal put up a controversial billboard declaring, "This is not Bangladesh!" This sparked strong condemnation from the Bangladeshi expatriate community, who found the message deeply offensive.

Meanwhile, our men's cricket team continues to struggle, suffering one defeat after another. Even the home ground advantage — usually a source of energy and confidence — has failed to lift our performance.

Our Governance score on the Transparency International Corruption Perceptions Index for 2024 has fallen to 23 out of 100, the lowest point in 13 years.

On the Economist Intelligence Unit's Democracy Index for 2024, Bangladesh has plummeted 25 places to 100th out of 167 countries — the sharpest drop of any nation featured in the survey.

The World Happiness Report 2025 has ranked Bangladesh 134th out of 147 countries, down from 129th the previous year. Meanwhile, our passport has slipped to 93rd out of 99 in its category, offering visa-free or visa-on-arrival access to only 39 destinations, down from around 42 the year before.

Bangladesh 2.0 began with high hopes of change, but progress has been slow. People are saying that the interim government has too little time and too many issues to address before the next election — including the economy, institutions, governance, and public morale. Yes, efforts are being made, but while major reforms are discussed in meeting rooms, the visible, everyday problems remain stubbornly unresolved.

Take traffic, for example.

Bikers continue to ride without helmets, and pillion riders enjoy the wind in their hair. According to sources, of more than 8,500 road deaths in 2024, 30% were motorcycle-related.

Buses still block intersections in a futile attempt to outsmart one another. Cars casually occupy the wrong side of the road because, apparently, the "right" side is only a suggestion. And those famous "Bangla Teslas" — our battery-run mini vehicles — continue to appear from every direction.

The chaos does not stop on the roads. The same disorder is reflected in hospitals, where files vanish faster than patients receive treatment; in classrooms, where leaked exam questions have become routine; and in offices, where meetings begin late because time appears to respect hierarchy. Our public spaces, too, echo this indiscipline — litter piling up after every event, loudspeakers blaring day and night.

This is not just about bad driving or selfishness; it reflects something deeper about our national behaviour. The road is a collective mirror — showing us as impatient, shortcut-loving, and resistant to discipline.

We say we want reform, a fresh start, a smarter Bangladesh. But how can we hope to achieve that when we cannot even wait for the traffic light to turn green? Discipline is the foundation of progress.

This problem runs through every sphere. In the corporate world, we talk about Corporate Social Responsibility — doing good beyond mere compliance. But when compliance itself is missing, CSR becomes nothing more than window dressing. The same logic applies to governance and civic life. If we cannot get the basics right — following a queue, wearing helmets, or not blocking the road — the bigger reforms will remain PowerPoint dreams filled with good intentions.

Somehow, we have managed to romanticise chaos. Driving on the wrong side? "Everyone does it." Honking nonstop? "It's necessary communication." Blocking the roundabout? "Just two minutes, boss."

And there it is — the most dangerous phrase in Bangladesh: "Bhai, two minutes." This behavioural virus has spread faster than Covid-19, infecting everyone from pedestrians to policymakers. If we do not act now, our cities may descend into such disorder that even Google Maps might give up.

But here is the truth — we do not need a revolution to fix this. We need enforcement, consistency, and common sense. When helmetless bikers are fined every time, others will follow. When buses face real consequences for blocking the road, they will stop treating the roundabout as a parking space. We have implemented these measures before, but only sporadically — just enough to tick a box.

Discipline is not only about punishment; it is about pride. The Japanese football team did not win the World Cup, but they won hearts by cleaning the stadium after every match. That is culture — not created by policy, but practised daily.

If the interim government wants to leave a meaningful legacy, it could start here — by making discipline visible. Repainting the lines on the road could become a metaphor for restoring the invisible lines that hold a country together: fairness, patience, and accountability.

Before we dream of a "Smart Bangladesh", perhaps we should first aim for a "Sensible Bangladesh" — one where people stand in queues, drive on the correct side of the road, and use their horns sparingly.

Because when we fix the lines, we fix more than just traffic — we fix our mindset. And maybe, one day, we will all finally move forward — not by cutting the queue, but by standing in it.

Shafiq R Bhuiyan writes on how communication, culture, and corporate social responsibility (CSR) converge to shape a more conscious and compassionate society.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard