More than five and a half decades have passed since independence. In the judgment of history, this is by no means a short period. Many nations, within this span, have consolidated their state structures, built social order and civic character, and institutionalized a sense of collective self-respect.
Yet when one looks at Bangladesh, a troubling question arises: have we truly succeeded in becoming a cohesive nation? Or are we still merely a population—one that has a state, a flag, and a constitution, but remains marked by a long-standing incompleteness when it comes to forming a national character?
Standing in today’s Bangladesh, this question is far from irrelevant. What is happening both inside and outside the state repeatedly brings this fundamental inquiry to the fore. People arrive from abroad offering advice.
Discussions emerge about various policies, frameworks, commissions, and plans. But is the reality on the ground changing? Or are we simply circling the same loop—new terminology, old habits; new faces, old mindsets?
To search for an answer, we must first understand what we mean by a “nation.” A group of people does not become a nation merely by living within the same geographical boundaries. Nor does sharing a language or a common history automatically create a nation.
To be a nation requires a shared moral consciousness, a common sense of responsibility, and above all a collective sense of self-respect—not merely individual, but societal. To be a nation means accepting the law not simply as an instrument of fear, but as an expression of justice.
History offers many examples where the achievement of independence did not guarantee nation-building. Several African states—Congo, South Sudan, Somalia—have been independent for long periods, yet despite having state structures, national cohesion has not taken root.
In parts of Latin America too, elections take place and governments change, but discipline and ethics in civic behavior remain elusive. Conversely, there are examples such as South Korea, Japan, and even post-war Germany rising from ruins, where the formation of civic character was placed at the very center of state reconstruction.
This leads us to ask: what are the fundamental elements of nation-building? First, education—but not education that merely produces degrees. It must cultivate ethics, responsibility, and critical reasoning. Second, employment—because an unemployed and insecure individual cannot truly feel that the state belongs to them; they merely search for opportunities.
Third, in politics there may be ideological differences, but there must not be a base mentality of annihilating one another. Fourth, the teaching of honesty and morality within the family and society.
It is here that the questions become particularly complex in the context of Bangladesh. Is our society producing responsible citizens, or rewarding those who are merely “clever”? Is nation-building something that can be imported, or is it fundamentally the result of deep self-examination? Can a society that does not learn to take responsibility for its own failures ever become a mature nation?
Bangladesh’s experience suggests that we have built a state, but our capacity for statecraft remains weak. We know how to mobilize movements—but do we know how to build institutions? After five and a half decades, perhaps the most urgent question is this: what do we want to be? Merely citizens of a state, or truly a nation in the fullest sense?
If we wish to be a nation, are we prepared to practice the values that transform a population into a nation? Or will we, even decades from now, continue to say: we did not have time, we did not get the chance, no one built it for us?
History does not wait. A people that delays in shaping itself into a true nation is ultimately reduced by history to a prolonged question mark. So the final question is this: are we to remain suspended in space and time like a constellation shaped as a question mark? Or will we one day become a clear and compelling answer ourselves?
