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THE Bangladesh University of Engineering and Technology has been in the spotlight for quite some time — sometimes more fully than at other times. But all for wrong reasons. The main debate in an academic institution during a non-war period should be about teaching, learning, and research. It should also be about the interests and wellbeing of all those affiliated with the institution. However, the recent national attention is about none of these issues. BUET was running smoothly since student politics had been banned by consensus. The ban followed the gruesome killing of Abrar Fahad in 2019 by a group of hooligans belonging to the student chapter of the party in power. Beating a student to death for a social media status in favour of his country is probably a record that can be made only in Bangladesh, under a particular regime.

Banning student politics, which is allegdely associated with all things bad, was a significant milestone. It was a rare achievement for BUET students and academics. They were enjoying the fruits of their collective action. Wearing the sad memory of Abrar Fahad, the institution was pursuing academic excellence. There were no untoward incidents at BUET in the past few years.

However, such peaceful pursuit of excellence and wellbeing for everyone doesn’t seem to go with the temperament of the student group affiliated with the party in government. They wanted to re-transplant politics on BUET premises, violating the ban. In their views, politics-free BUET was turning into a den for jangis (militants politically oriented towards Islam), even though credible evidence for such a development was never produced. And BUET students and authorities did not raise any such concerns. In order to legitimise their political re-invasion of the campus, the legal route was also explored. As suspected, the court this time was quick in delivering their verdict: students have the right to do politics, etc.

Efforts are being invested in the discursive front as well to legitimise the political colonisation of BUET. For example, the social and political consciousness of the BUET community is being questioned. BUET students and graduates are labelled ignorant or half-educated. BUET is also being compared with a madrasa. The motives behind such discursive constructions of BUET are not difficult to fathom, as they come from identifiable sources.

While the ongoing BUET conundrum has many aspects, this writing seeks to explore one specific point. This is to challenge the view that there has been no politics at BUET in the past few years, and therefore politics should be reinstated.

Whether BUET has had politics in the past few years or not depends on what we mean by politics. If student politics means torturing and killing students, disrupting the tendering process, extorting money, grabbing seats (seat dokhol), forcing innocent students to join political events against their will, then it is right to say that BUET did not have politics. Freed from this politics that students and teachers across the country rightly detest, the institution was doing academic politics — the kind of politics that is expected of a higher education institution anywhere in the world.

Even from a political perspective, if we understand politics as people’s right to exercise their choice, politics has been active at BUET. If the aim of politics is to establish and nurture democratic norms, how can we say BUET didn’t have politics? The existing ban was the result of a democratic consensus — it was agreed upon by the BUET community to pursue their best interests. To me, this is the best example of democratic politics, a politics where people can freely decide what they would like to do — what course of action will serve their collective interests. This way of exercising people’s rights is politics par excellence.

It’s not that the output of such democratic politics cannot be revisited. If some members of the community feel that they need to revisit the ban, the process is open. This is simply returning to the democratic drawing board and asking the community to redecide whether they would like to maintain the status quo or pursue a different course of action under any changing circumstances. BUET authorities can easily rearrange a voting mechanism and give the community an opportunity to reconsider the ban on conventional politics. This will be another breakthrough in democratic politics. If people have a minimal sense of democratic norms and if they believe in the rule of law — rather than the rule of the jungle — they should demand change through the established democratic process. Any attempt to invade the institution by force can, in no way, be justified as civilised behaviour. The legal intervention in the present context was unhelpfully redundant, showing its acquiescence to the party in power.

While the BUET situation does not represent a crisis, it points to the root of all crises afflicting the country in the past decade and a half. It’s the absence of democracy and the minimal respect for people’s right to choose. The past three general elections have demonstrated — each in its own unique way — how the winners would like to win by trying all means except those that are permissible under civilised and democratic norms. Democracy is not their preferred path; they can’t tolerate people’s right to choose their representatives.

Almost all higher education institutions in the country have fallen victim to authoritarian control. Only BUET was shining as an example of rule by people. However, those who are uninterested in democratic values can’t accept this exception to their jungle norms. Therefore, the institution has to be invaded. If they can take control by force, why would they bother to resort to consent? The BUET case is symbolic of the election scenario in the country.

Replacing the current regime of democratic politics with a regime of jungle rule at BUET may have sad consequences for the student community and the country. Tragedies like that of Abrar Fahad may not be ruled out if hooligans are allowed to dominate BUET again. Locating jongees on campus by means of language and power and not by facts or evidence might be an indication in that direction. And there is a de facto rule, as it seems, in the country that brutalising or killing someone is justified if the victim can be labelled a ‘jangi’ or a ‘Shibir’. Allegations are there; if they have beards, if they go to mosques, and if they can be branded in a particular way, they can be harassed or killed. As the tragic death of Abrar Fahad demonstrates, if someone ever writes anything on social media that goes against the interests of a neighbouring country, then that is a sure case of deserving the equivalent of capital punishment outside the courtroom. It’s probably rare in the contemporary world that killing a person is justified if you can give them a label. Its doppelganger can be found in a neighbouring country where a beef-eating person deserves the same fate.

I hope BUET won’t return to this visited path in the unvisited future. The door is still open to avoid such a feared fatality. As they did a few years ago, the BUET community can decide their future course of action. I hope BUET can continue its own politics of academic excellence, and it doesn’t have to embrace the politics of torture, violence, and brutality.

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Obaidul Hamid is an associate professor at the University of Queensland in Australia. He researches language, education, and society in the developing world.