Mahtab Uddin Ahmed

Bangladesh has built an efficient crisis factory. Take one unfortunate incident, add instant defence and political ego, invite television panels, and the issue disappears. The tragedy becomes a serial, the victim a suspect, and everyone else a supporting actor. Ratings rise.

Bangladesh welcomes foreign investors with summits and enough PowerPoint slides to illuminate Dhaka. When one retreats, the ceremony is quieter. It becomes a “strategic realignment,” the regulator calls it a business decision, and everyone hopes the logo remains long enough for the next investment brochure.

Bangladeshi entrepreneurs collaborate brilliantly at weddings, trade-body elections and occasionally when a tax proposal threatens everyone. Ask them to share technology, research or infrastructure, however, and the room suddenly develops a trust deficit larger than the national budget.

A possibly staged viral video from Russia recently showed a humanoid robot answering a customer’s push with punches and kicks.

“No” is not merely a word. It is a management philosophy and, occasionally, a retirement plan.

For decades, Bangladesh treated multinational companies as models of ethical business.

In many of our offices, the rulebook is treated like the fire extinguisher: displayed prominently, dusted before an audit, and touched only after smoke appears.

Every now and then, Bangladesh produces a rare policy miracle: an authority listens before the public loses its voice. Bangladesh Bank’s latest Bangla QR circulars deserve appreciation for correcting the course.