A fractured book for a fractured moment: What Ali Riaz chose not to write
Ali Riaz, maybe a name not very known to us even a few years ago, is now synonymous with the developments after the fall of the fascist regime.
A fractured book for a fractured moment: What Ali Riaz chose not to write
Ali Riaz, maybe a name not very known to us even a few years ago, is now synonymous with the developments after the fall of the fascist regime.
As the head of the constitutional reform commission, his contribution to this country for the past two years is both undeniable and, to some extent, controversial. So, when one of my friends suggested his book, A Fractured Path, I knew I had to read it.
The book is surprisingly light, with a total of 114 pages, some of which are occupied by the many references used. It seemed quite odd to me that, in the heat of the political turmoil in October 2025, he would decide to publish a book, a considerable portion of which is expectedly written whilst the live conversations about the July Charter and the reforms are fragmenting the nation’s political discourse.
However, as I soon realised, this book was not made to be a historical fact-based encyclopaedia of the current (2025) events. Rather, it reads much like a Wikipedia article constituting events from 1972 to July 2024, an article that may not be as interesting for the well-informed, which led me to the question: who was this book even for?
Before I address that question, let’s discuss what the book entails. Seventy per cent, roughly the first 76 pages, constitutes the historical events that have shaped Bangladeshi politics. According to Mr Riaz, Bangladesh historically had two significant opportunities to ensure a proper institutionalisation of our democracy, and in both instances, we fell short.
One of those instances is 1972. Emerging through the independence war, we had the opportunity to rebuild the abandoned institutions. Yet, according to Ali Riaz, we chose the convenient route. By “we”, I do mean the political establishment, and you can easily guess exactly who headed that establishment.
Another instance came in the 1990s. General Ershad’s fall meant that political parties once again had an opportunity to put aside petty lust for power and think of the country’s future. Yet again, the country struggled to move on. It seemed politicisation had taken over all our meaningful institutions that were supposed to keep our democracy afloat.
As I was reading through these first few chapters, I sometimes felt intrigued, sometimes frankly bored as I had a basic knowledge of history. I also understood that anyone above a certain age was aware of all these events, leading me to wonder why I was reading this fact-based “Wiki” piece at a time when there are persistent tensions between the government and the opposition regarding fundamental issues of the constitution, and the all-important referendum.
Wouldn’t it be a better use of Ali Riaz’s time if he had documented a true representation of the current events that were taking place behind closed doors? Wouldn’t it be a greater service to history and to Bangladesh, if he could remove the masks of those politicians who love to spew the popular message outside but express a completely different one inside?
This is when I understood who this book was for. It wasn’t meant for history. This book does not and cannot stand as the documentation of intense negotiations taking place between Bangladesh’s political class because it was never intended to be.
This book was for the students of political science, more specifically the students of Illinois State University in the United States.
The 114 pages are nothing more than a summary of literature reviews, most probably meant for undergraduate students, reiterating common theories and world events with that of Bangladesh’s political strata.
What else is the use of this book? Released in the year 2025, still amidst tense negotiations, Bangladesh surely did not need another history book filled with proper citations of famous political theorists and news articles.
Any layman, more or less conscious of Bangladesh’s struggles, understands the need for strong institutions, rigorous checks on power, and a functioning parliament.
Why would that reader need Daron Acemoglu’s Nobel-winning theories referenced (Why Nations Fail) to reiterate the obvious again?
The disappointment did not end there. As the need for institutions was being hammered in almost every page, another basic question was lingering in my mind.
What does he really mean by institutions devoid of political influence? Does he mean institutions out of the Executive’s reach of influence? If that is the case, then is he actually, in essence, arguing for a “deep state”?
A state within, which wishes the bidding of no one, not even a political leader, an elected one nonetheless. Even in the beloved US, where the audience of this book resides, federal judges, district attorneys, the Supreme Court, and even the intelligence communities are all partisan.
They might not appear to be wearing a red or blue tie, but you will hear the terms “Democrat judges” or “Republican DAs”, not in the speeches of ordinary people, but in the speeches of Trump, or Obama for that matter.
Nothing structural of what “inclusive institutions”, meaning an institution devoid of political influence, was going to be made or could be made, was discussed. I mean, how could he have discussed it within 100 pages? He wasted 70 per cent of it recounting historical literature.
Such a shame. As a person of authority, history demanded a full record of what discussions had constituted the July Charter, referendum, and other reforms, and who voiced what opinions.
It is a failure of civil society, time and time again, that they do not serve their due diligence.
It is a failure of civil society that they cannot foresee the needs of the future. Rather, they stay stuck between what happened in the past and what might constitute their next source of revenue.