Corruption in Bangladesh is not incidental; it is anatomical. It is a system sustained by silent, synchronised collaboration between politicians and bureaucrats, write Abdullah Dewan and Humayun Kabir
BENJAMIN Franklin once warned, ‘Don’t put off till tomorrow what you can do today.’ In Bangladesh, this wisdom is reversed, distorted and institutionalised within bureaucratic practice as a strategy for self-aggrandisement. Their unspoken motto seems to be: ‘Delay it unless the incentive is greased.’ For decades, promises of reform have been derailed by a single immutable truth: corruption is not a byproduct of governance in Bangladesh — it is its collective modus operandi.
In this article, the term ‘bureaucrats’ refers broadly to all individuals who exercise governmental power — from grassroots-level officials in rural areas to the highest-ranking administrators and state functionaries.
Corruption in Bangladesh is not incidental; it is anatomical. And like any functioning body, it thrives on circulation — not of blood, but of bribes and complicity. It is a system sustained by silent, synchronised collaboration between politicians and bureaucrats. The former set the tone; the latter enforce it. Politicians cannot entrench corruption without loyal bureaucrats. Bureaucrats cannot sustain it without political cover.
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Hidden fuel of corruption
EVERY ruling party comes to power denouncing its predecessor’s corruption and inefficiency. Task forces are formed, consultants hired, white papers drafted — yet nothing fundamentally changes. Worse, reform itself becomes a business: another contract to award, another file to delay, another scheme to stall. But what drives bureaucrats to embrace corruption so consistently? The answer lies not only in political opportunism but in deeper social forces — especially family pressure.
This pressure is both intimate and insidious. Jealousy among peers turns into competition ‘They have it; why don’t we?’ — fuelling a cycle few dare break. Spouses, in-laws, children and extended family ask pointed questions: ‘Why don’t we own a flat in Gulshan?’ ‘Why do your friends drive expensive cars while we ride rickshaws?’ ‘The neighbour just bought a second plot — what have you done with your government job?’ These aren’t casual remarks; they carry judgment. Over time, witnessing batchmates rise through unethical means, the bureaucrat undergoes moral erosion. What begins as envy becomes an aspiration. Corruption is no longer merely tolerated — it becomes rationalised, even expected.
Thus, corruption is driven not just by greed but by social mimicry — the need to maintain status, satisfy family demands and avoid falling behind in a system that rewards the unscrupulous. It’s conformity dictated not by law, but by unspoken rules of social mobility.
This syndrome isn’t confined to Dhaka’s elite neighbourhoods. Across towns and sub-districts, grassroots officials face the same competitive culture, where success is measured not by integrity but by displaying visible power, pomp and prestige. This spectacle operates like a malignancy: first invisible, then metastasising — distorting history, consuming the present, corroding the future and infecting institutions from within.
Even the few reform efforts that emerge tend to focus on surface-level fixes — digitisation, audit trails, online tenders. Necessary, yes — but far from sufficient. No automation can override a culture where deals are struck over tea and favours traded at weddings. In such an environment, corruption is not just practised — it’s personalised, socialised, normalised.
One glaring example is the routine misuse of government vehicles. Oversized, fuel-inefficient official SUVs — funded by taxpayers — are used for personal errands, family events and school runs. This not only worsens traffic but burdens the public purse through inflated fuel and maintenance costs. Strict limits must be enforced — not only on use, but also on vehicle type and fuel standards.
In sum, Bangladesh’s bureaucratic corruption is not the doing of a few bad actors — it’s embedded in the social fabric, reinforced by family pressure, peer emulation and systemic indulgence. Reform must begin by acknowledging this broader context. Without addressing the hidden cultural and psychological forces at play, we’re left with cosmetic solutions — powerless against a deeply rooted disease.
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Moral insurgency and accountability
WHAT Bangladesh urgently needs is not another glossy e-governance pilot or digitisation scheme, but a moral insurgency — sparked by public outrage. Citizens must reclaim agency not just through voting, but by resisting corruption in daily life. Protest at corrupt offices. Demand explanations. Ask why files are delayed, licenses stalled or contracts awarded without competition.
Legal proceedings may drag on for years, but financial accountability shouldn’t. When officials acquire assets far beyond declared income — luxury apartments, land, vehicles — swift probes and asset seizures must follow. The ACC should be staffed not with political appointees or compromised figures, but with competent, well-paid professionals whose careers are too valuable to risk bribes.
This is no utopian dream. In the US, agencies like the FBI, Office of Government Ethics, and Inspectors General operate in cultures where bribery is a career death sentence. They hire strong candidates, pay them well and shield them from political pressure. Their loyalty lies with institutional integrity, not personal patrons — making corruption risky and structurally hard.
In stark contrast, Bangladesh’s anti-corruption watchdog is often seen as toothless, politically subservient or complicit. Investigations are delayed. Cases stagnate. Action against senior officials often needs political clearance. Tragically, the very systems meant to fight corruption are themselves corrupted.
No surprise, then, that Bangladesh was ranked the world’s most corrupt country for five years straight (2001–2006). Despite brief improvements, systemic corruption remains entrenched. That ranking wasn’t a fluke — it was the natural result of a governance culture where politicians and bureaucrats collude to loot, launder and institutionalise corruption.
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Decay of governance (2009–2024)
THE installation of the Awami League government in 2009 under Sheikh Hasina marked the beginning of a new era of misrule and administrative decay in Bangladesh. What the country has endured over the last 15 years of autocratic rule is no ordinary kleptocracy —it is a perfected system of political and bureaucratic collusion operating as a parallel mode of governance.
To fully grasp the country’s deterioration and its mode of statecraft, no single all-encompassing term suffices. We have therefore adopted the following four portmanteau terms to capture the operating framework of collusion, looting, kleptocracy, and brutal repression. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then each of these four composite terms conveys at least five hundred — saving column space and sparing readers the fatigue of rehashing long-familiar truths.
Kleptofascism (a grassroots neologism increasingly used in critical journalism) — the fusion of authoritarian control with entrenched corruption.
Lootopoliticraft (newly coined) — the systemic orchestration of looting as a strategy of governance.
Bureaupolitigraft (newly coined) the symbiotic entanglement of bureaucratic machinery and political power through mutual graft.
Necropoliticraft (from Achille Mbembe) — the deployment of state violence to disappear, silence and eliminate dissent.
No system of governance could have evolved into these four dimensions without an unshakable foundation of mutual trust and interdependence between politicians and bureaucrats — sustained by a shared immunity from fear, accountability or betrayal.
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Illicit outflows, institutional decay
THERE is no officially endorsed estimate of the total dollar value looted through corruption, embezzlement, extortion and illicit transfers of wealth by the Awami League regime (2009–2024). Nonetheless, several credible sources and indicators point to staggering figures, easily retrievable through a simple Google search.
Illicit financial flows: According to Global Financial Integrity, between 2009 and 2018, Bangladesh lost $81 billion to trade-based illicit financial flows — under- and over-invoicing of imports and exports, etc. This is only one component of overall corruption — not counting bribery, public project theft or money laundering. If the trend continued through 2024, the total could easily exceed $120 billion.
Corruption and budget leakages: The World Bank and Transparency International Bangladesh have estimated that roughly 20–30 per cent of Bangladesh’s annual budget is lost to corruption. Bangladesh’s budget in the 2023–24 financial year was approximately $94 billion. Over 15 years, cumulative budgets amount to $800–$900 billion. AÌý30 per cent corruption leakage on $900 billion equals to $270 billion potentially siphoned off.
The scale of bureaupolitigraft in Bangladesh may well eclipse any known global precedent. A mere file-handler in the Prime Minister’s Office once proudly declared assets worth Tk 40 million, while a health ministry chauffeur reportedly owned multiple luxury apartment buildings valued in untold millions. Senior police officers, too, are said to possess high-rise apartments and lavish resort properties — assets that cannot be justified by lawful earnings alone. Such countless impossibilities became possible only under the Awami League regime’s framework described by the four portmanteaus above.
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Breaking and rebuilding the system
FOR decades, sharp media exposés have failed to rattle the political or bureaucratic classes. These officials pay them little attention, knowing full well the damning mirror they hold up — and knowing even better that no real consequence will follow. What is truly needed is not another report, but a structural realignment: empowered, independent anti-corruption units, swift asset recovery, rigorous lifestyle audits, and above all, the political will to act decisively. Yet systems do not rot in abstraction; they rot through human choices.
No bureaucrat enters public service as corrupt. But when dishonesty is rewarded, when modest salaries cannot meet relentless family pressures and when promotions hinge on loyalty over merit, corruption becomes not a moral failing but a rational strategy for survival. Faith, virtue and public duty are first sidelined — then ultimately discarded. No reform — whether through new laws or an independent Anti-Corruption Commission — can dismantle the entrenched machinery of toll extortion and graft unless bureaupolitigraft is openly condemned, actively resisted and made a social taboo.
To fulfil the promises of the second republic, Bangladesh needs to ignite a transformation of character. Politicians must shed their corrupt skin and embrace selfless governance. Likewise, the bureaucracy must abandon its entrenched culture of inertia, greed and gatekeeping. They must evolve from a negative synonym of BUREAUCRATS — bribed, usurpers, rent-seekers, enablers, arrogant, unproductive, conniving, road-blockers, abusers, tricksters — to a glorifying acronym: being unselfish, efficient, accountable, incorruptible, conscientious, respectful, admittedly trustworthy, and service-spirited.
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Dr Abdullah A Dewan is a former physicist and nuclear engineer at BAEC and is professor emeritus of economics at Eastern Michigan University, USA. Humayun Kabir is a former senior official of the United Nations contributing from Toronto, Canada.
