Of tears and desperation
People are rightfully angry, and it makes sense. Onions hold an indispensable connection with our taste buds, and therefore by extension our culture and standards of living. Not to mention the fact that the crisis is primarily the result of an internal decision made by India—a country we have a love-hate relationship with—and the malpractice of a handful of traders. Thus, it makes absolute sense that people are angry, frustrated, and have opted to express themselves in every way possible. The lack of timely action by the government and the corrupt manipulation of the market by the traders' syndicate should be spoken out against.
But a recent op-ed published in this daily on why onions should not make us "cry", also makes sense. At least it's not rice, our most important staple food. Maybe we indeed should prioritise and choose to cry about other injustices, or maybe just boycott the purchase of unfairly priced onions as a sign of protest? We as a country have gone through worse, and we can definitely wait out a few months without onions. But it's important to ask ourselves the question: is it really, deep down, just about onions?
Economically speaking, things have never been better for us. Albeit they are significantly better for a minority of the population compared to the rest, but people, in general, are better. Some may argue that the relationship between development and time is linear, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Sustaining a 6-plus percent growth for nearly a decade, as we have done so, is no normal feat. Nor is increasing the per capita income by three-fold in that same time period. Millions still suffer, but there is no denying that more people are healthier and wealthier than they were a decade ago. But if the statistics say we are better, why are we not content? Why are we triggered so easily, and why do we pounce on every opportunity to question the judgment and competence of our decision-makers?
If economic well-being alone meant rainbows and butterflies, people in Chile, for instance, would not be out in the streets right now participating in violent and massive demonstrations. The country now is in a state of emergency, and things look gloomy. The protests have come as a shock, because Chile, by most international economists, is seen as a successful example of a market-based economy. Since 1990, its story has been that of the end of a military dictatorship, the advent of democratic governments, economic growth, and rising income.
But that is not the entire story, and there exists a darker side. Economic growth has slowed down in recent years, and Chile's inequality is one of the highest among its peers in the OECD. But growth and inequality as the sole factors of discontent are challenged by the fact that Chile since 1990, has made significant progress in fighting inequality, and its growth rate still averages better than most of its Latin American neighbours.
The most profound factor, evidently, is the extreme disconnect in Chile between its citizens and the political system. Chile also ranks the lowest in the OECD in its measure of "civic engagement", and no country in South America has lower political participation. The overwhelming majority of Chile's population either do not identify with a political party or perceive them as highly corrupt. Chile's story is also that of unequal economic growth, a state increasingly withdrawn from its regulatory roles, and a political class unwilling to transform the country's economic and social model.
Chile's social unrest is a lesson of the dangers of ignoring inequality and the importance of building inclusive political institutions. Inequality in Bangladesh is also at an all-time high, and the latest data reveals an increasing trend. But perhaps the more alarming fact is that in Bangladesh, just like in Chile, political participation and peoples' trust in state institutions have also been depleted.
Sure, the fulfilment of our short-term needs of economic growth and increased per capita income has turned us into passive political actors. It does not affect us much to look the other way, to go with the flow, or be somewhat content with whatever is the status quo. But it would be good practice for our decision-makers to realise that similar rates of growth cannot be sustained consistently forever, just like it wasn't in Chile. What really matters during economic crises, besides the strength of our economic fundamentals, is the people's trust in the system and its institutions.
Manucheher Shafee is a master's student of International Development at the Paris Institute of Political Studies, referred to as Sciences Po.
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