1. New US Ambassador: Dhaka’s Conversations and the Subtle Notes of Diplomacy
Whenever a new US ambassador arrives in Dhaka, a wave of discussion follows. Some people become openly optimistic; others build walls of suspicion in advance. In reality, an ambassador is not just an individual but a moment in time, a context, an international reality.
Bangladesh–US relations have long been managed through a delicate balance across several areas—political security, economic ties, human rights, travel and trade. Here, official communication matters as much as the tone and language of bureaucrats. They do not merely put names on paper; they shape the atmosphere of relationships in practice.
Brent T. Christensen is now in Dhaka. Soon after assuming office, he spoke to journalists. One thing stood out in his remarks: carefully measured words combined with clear intent. He stated that the United States does not take sides in domestic politics and that elections are the constitutional and sovereign right of the people of Bangladesh. While this may sound ordinary, such a statement carries particular weight at a politically sensitive time like this.
Diplomatic language is often calculated, constructed and formal. But when remarks are so public and widely shared, they also allow us to glimpse the person behind them. In Christensen’s words, that door appears open—there is no aggression, but there are clear expectations; no arrogance, but a call for mutual understanding.
At his US Senate confirmation hearing, he described Bangladesh as a country facing “one of the most important elections in decades”. This was neither a directive nor a threat. It was an acknowledgement of reality—one in which the election is not merely about a transfer of power, but about trust, confidence and the country’s political future.
Christensen is not new to Bangladesh. He has worked in Dhaka before and knows this city and this country. He understands the complexity of its political culture. As a result, his remarks avoid both excessive moralising and diplomatic coldness. What emerges instead is a necessary realism.
At the same time, he has made it clear that he intends to keep a close watch on China’s growing influence in Bangladesh. In his words, this is not an ideological confrontation, but a practical strategic question—where security, cooperation and balance of power intersect. The key issue is how Bangladesh protects its own interests amid competition between major powers.
These matters do not directly appear in everyday life. When rice prices rise or fall in the market, the connection to China’s influence is not immediately visible. Yet their impact on political and security thinking is profound. Decisions about infrastructure projects, defence cooperation and diplomatic alignment ultimately shape both state policy and the public’s future.
Bangladesh has often maintained balance among major powers in the past. But the current global order is no longer stable. Neutrality today does not mean silence; it means conscious choice. The new ambassador’s remarks remind us of this reality: diplomacy is no longer just the language of courtesy—it is also the language of clear positions.
2. Minority Rights: Not Isolated Incidents, but a Continuing Signal
Recent reports from different parts of the country may seem disconnected when read separately—tension in one place, attacks in another, fear elsewhere. Viewed together, however, they point to a deeper social question.
In several discussions, the Centre for Governance Studies (CGS) has stated that sustainable democracy is impossible without ensuring minority rights. This may sound like a slogan, but the reality is far more difficult. Democracy is not only about majority rule; it is also a test of how safely minorities can live.
In Bangladesh, collective identity often emerges through the struggles of different forces—religion, language, political affiliation or social class. When these identities fail to learn mutual understanding, coexistence weakens. Individual incidents become news items, but beneath them lies a domestic reality of strained social harmony.
Bangladeshi society is historically pluralistic. But pluralism survives not only in history, but in everyday practice. When minority citizens feel unsafe, it ceases to be just their problem; the foundation of trust across society begins to shake.
The problem here is not only law and order. It is also the language of the state’s response. When the state speaks late, vaguely, or tries to avoid an issue after an incident, rumours gain strength and fear spreads.
Minority rights are not merely policy guidelines or state promises; they are part of a society’s lived human experience. When a society makes even a small group feel insecure, that insecurity eventually becomes fear and uncertainty for the majority as well. When such concerns reach the level of state discussion, they are no longer just about numbers or policies—they are about values, justice and empathy. This is what we mean by “human security”.
We often say that religious coexistence has existed in Bangladesh for a long time. That is true. But stable coexistence is not sustained by history alone; it is built through effective justice and a genuine sense of safety. Creating that sense requires firm, impartial and humane state commitment—visible in practice, not just on paper.
Many find discussions on minority rights uncomfortable, sensitive or politically risky. But in a democracy, sensitivity does not mean avoidance. On the contrary, these are precisely the areas where the state must take its clearest, strongest and most humane stand.
Minority security is, in fact, a measure of a state’s strength. A state that can protect its most vulnerable citizens is the one that is truly strong.
3. Cricket, the World Cup and an Unnecessary Withdrawal
Whenever Bangladesh plays cricket, the country comes together—this has been proven many times. Winning or losing is not the main issue; stepping onto the field is what matters. From that perspective, the decision not to play in the T20 World Cup in India did not seem like a good one to me.
Sport is not merely entertainment, nor is it only diplomacy. It is a space for emotion, identity and confidence.
When governments make such decisions, they may be thinking about security or circumstances. But did they consider what people are losing?
When the Bangladesh cricket team is on the field, people—if only briefly—forget political divisions. The game brings people together, offers hope and creates a shared feeling. Withdrawing from that space is not just about missing a tournament; it weakens the emotional bond between state institutions and the public.
Participation in international sport is not only about victory; it is about presence. Whether we win or lose, both become part of our story. But if we do not play at all, the story disappears. At this moment, Bangladesh needs to be more visible and more confident—not withdrawn.
Avoiding the field may feel safer in the short term, but in the long run it creates a psychological retreat—never a healthy sign for a nation.
4. Fahmida, the Journey, and the Quiet Care of Relationships
Two days ago marked 24 years of our marriage. This is not a number for formal celebration; it is the story of growing up together.
People often confine relationships to romantic moments. In reality, relationships are built through small, everyday decisions—who listens attentively, who stays silent at the right moment, who stands by the other when needed.
Someone once said that people do not only want each other; they want the assurance of being understood and of mutual understanding. This does not arrive all at once. It is formed through time, trust and patience.
We listen to certain songs—like Stand by Me—not merely as music, but as expressions of an enduring promise: staying present for one another through darkness and uncertainty. It is not just a love song; it is a philosophy of relationship.
Marriage does not mean constant agreement; it means staying together even amid disagreement. People change with time, priorities shift, and relationships evolve. They endure only when both partners make space for that change.
The greatest enemy of relationships is not anger, but neglect. When communication stops, distance grows—and it grows quietly.
Long relationships survive not through grand promises, but through small acts of care: being consistently present, understanding each other’s fatigue, giving time to one another. These form the silent foundation of any lasting bond.
Final Words
The four themes of this week’s reflections—diplomacy, minority rights, cricket and marriage—may seem unrelated, but they ultimately converge in one place.
Everywhere, the question is the same:
Are we valuing relationships?
The relationship between the state and its citizens, between the majority and minorities, between institutions and people, and between people themselves—all require care.
Without care, relationships break.
And no state, no society, no family can endure on broken relationships.
Author: President, Centre for Governance Studies
