IN THE age of social media, where likes, shares, views, and reach are controlled by tech companies seeking to maximise their profit, videos of rickshaws being bulldozed spread widely, drawing sympathy for rickshaw pullers. Meanwhile, clips of electric rickshaws driving over flyovers or alongside private cars and CNGs fuel anger and frustration against them just as strongly. The reality is that facts, causality, and the lived pain of poverty rarely gain attention in our busy lives 鈥� whether we are scrolling through feeds or watching news for a fleeting sigh of relief from daily stress. As a result, the public has little opportunity to make informed decisions, even though we are constantly bombarded with information that is often selective and purpose-driven.
However, the irony is that the Bangladesh government, much like corporate bodies, appears more concerned with its image 鈥� a historical trend continued by the current administration 鈥� than with evaluating the real impacts of its decisions. Policies are too often shaped not by analysis but by notions designed to win over mainly the middle class and the wealthy, while sidelining the poor. The historic dismissive approach of policymakers toward the poor and working class has unfortunately remained unchanged as of now, even though it was they who sacrificed the most during the July uprising. Such neglect of the poor is the main reason behind the government鈥檚 motive to ban and bulldoze rickshaws, bullying and harassing rickshaw pullers instead of addressing the widespread poverty that forces people to take up rickshaw pulling almost as a last resort for survival.
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Who pulls the rickshaws?
A rickshaw puller could be a former or current apparel worker who cannot support his family with the meagre salary he receives. As a result, he turns to pulling rickshaws either to try his luck for a better daily income or to supplement his earnings with some extra money just to survive in a time of ever-increasing prices of basic necessities.
A rickshaw puller could also be a student who comes to Dhaka to pull rickshaws for a few days so that he can pay his college fees to sit for the next exam. It could be a small roadside shopkeeper who takes up this additional livelihood opportunity to compensate for his recurring losses. It could even be a small farmer who drives a rickshaw because his harvest was washed away during the last monsoon or a farmer who pulls rickshaws in the off-season to earn enough to buy seeds, fertiliser, and pesticides for the next season.
People do not pull rickshaws or drive auto-rickshaws out of luxury but rather out of despair and agony, often as a last resort. Even after backbreaking 8- to 10-hour days of labour, they cannot earn enough to live a decent life. As a result, many seek shelter with their families in shanties and slums around the city or sleep in rickshaw garages themselves, trying to save whatever little they can to send back to their villages. In the meantime, they remain in the city to serve its dwellers through rickshaw pulling.
In Bangladesh, an estimated 50 lakh rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, and easy-bikes are in operation. Unfortunately, the government has not even bothered to register the exact number of these means of livelihood. People of various identities operate these vehicles, yet poverty continues to be the unifying factor that drives them into this profession. So, when the government tries to erase this livelihood 鈥� branding rickshaw pullers as villains for traffic congestion, accidents, overspeeding, and more without addressing the root causes that push poor people into this work 鈥� shouldn鈥檛 the same reasoning apply to demanding the removal of the government itself for widespread corruption, mismanagement of public funds, and failure to alleviate poverty?
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False blaming doesn鈥檛 help
A survey shows that in Dhaka, rickshaw pullers rank first in providing transport services. Whether because of the lack of other options or because rickshaws are comparatively cheap and easily accessible, Dhaka residents use rickshaws more than any other mode of transport for personal travel. Rickshaws account for 35 per cent of all trips, followed by buses (21 per cent) and private cars (10.5 per cent).
Those who scapegoat rickshaw pullers for traffic congestion, demanding bans on rickshaws, battery-run rickshaws, and easy bikes, should first acknowledge a simple fact 鈥� road length per capita is less than one foot (0.213 metres) in Dhaka City Corporation areas. In many other developing countries, excluding advanced cities, the per capita road length ranges between 1.5 feet and 15 feet (0.5 to 4.5 metres) (Mahmud & Hoque, 2012 鈥� Management of Rickshaws in Dhaka). And yet, rickshaws are constantly presented as if they alone are to blame for Dhaka鈥檚 failure to become another Singapore or Dubai!
Many major roads in Dhaka have long been restricted for rickshaws. For example, rickshaws had been banned since 2002 on Mirpur Road (from Gabtoli to Russell Square) and on Panthapath (from Russell Square to FDC). But had the traffic speed on these roads actually improved? Can anyone expect to travel the 10 kilometres from Gabtoli Bus Stand to New Market in under two hours today?
According to a World Bank report published in 2017, the average traffic speed in Dhaka fell from 21 km/h to just 7 km/h in a decade, barely faster than walking. By 2022, it dropped further to 4.8 km/h, practically the same as walking speed. Another CPD survey found that on average, commuters in Dhaka spend 46 minutes stuck in traffic every two hours of travel (Saadat et al., 2023, CPD 鈥� Reducing Pollution for Greening Cities). And according to a US-based study that analysed travel speeds in 1,200 cities across 152 countries, Dhaka is the slowest city in the world (Akbar et al., 2023 鈥� Urban Transportation in Rich and Poor Countries).
So, are rickshaw pullers solely responsible for making Dhaka the slowest city on earth? Billions of takas of taxpayers鈥� money have been poured into flyovers, elevated expressways, and VIP roads in the name of solving traffic congestion 鈥� none of which allow rickshaw access. So, isn鈥檛 blaming rickshaws for all the mishaps simply because this large community of rickshaw drivers has no voice in the country鈥檚 power structure, which is making it too easy for the state to heap every accusation and injustice upon them?
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How to address the issue?
A non-consultative approach, a climate of threat-mongering, inconsistent planning, and uncertainty in the process have been the main themes in dealing with the rickshaw, auto-rickshaw, and easy-bike issue so far, and the current interim government is no exception. The administration has already set an example of how not to handle an issue that affects the lives and livelihoods of around one crore poor people. This issue can only be resolved through a consultative process, with compassion for the people, and in a phased, carefully planned manner.
Rickshaws, without which navigating even half of Dhaka鈥檚 streets would be nearly impossible, face periodic announcements of bans, yet few seem to rise in protest on behalf of the rickshaw pullers. Despite the backbreaking labour, every small earning matters greatly to them. It should be remembered that rickshaw pullers, like labourers, porters, bakery workers, brick kiln workers, and sanitation workers 鈥� who survive barely on what they earn 鈥� also long for relief from the inhuman hardships of their work.
If those who argue for banning rickshaw pulling as an 鈥榠nhuman鈥� profession took steps to stop the routine extortion and harassment of drivers, considered providing parking and rest areas at various points, ensured ownership rights for those who operate rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, and easy bikes, advocated for low-interest loans, and guaranteed safe housing, clean drinking water, nutritious food, and quality healthcare; if they modernised designs to make these vehicles safer and more comfortable for drivers and passengers, and emphasised proper driving training 鈥� then this profession could become far more humane.
Rickshaw pulling is not a choice. It is a forced livelihood, a means of survival for those with no alternative. Therefore, it is clear that shutting down this profession under the pretext of 鈥榠nhumanity鈥� or 鈥榣ack of modernisation鈥�, without offering any dignified alternatives, is nothing short of extreme oppression.
In 2023, when UNESCO announced the inclusion of the rickshaw and rickshaw art in its list of cultural heritage, newspapers, television, and social media were flooded with emotional celebrations for the rickshaw. Even the Bangla Academy organised an 鈥楢nanda Sammiloni鈥� (Joyful Gathering) to dedicate this achievement to everyone associated with the rickshaw profession and rickshaw art. Yet, there has been and still is no discussion about alleviating the hardships of rickshaw pullers鈥� deprived lives, no collective protest against the administration鈥檚 arbitrary bans on rickshaws and auto-rickshaws, and no initiative to secure the livelihoods of millions. We travel to many places on the cheap labour of those who leave their homes in villages and sacrifice their lives on the streets with their rickshaws to serve us. It is worth reflecting on whether our collective silence toward their daily struggle for survival mirrors the fraying fabric of our social relationships.
We need to remember that if we are merely surviving the heat of surrounding injustice while remaining trapped in our self-interest, then it is impossible for us to escape the moral consequences of that selfishness.
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Mowdud Rahman is a writer and editorial board member of Sarbojonkotha.
