In 2020, Dominic Cummings, the enfant terrible of Brexit, launched a quixotic quest to inject "weirdos and misfits" into the British government.

His goal was to disrupt the sclerotic civil service and bring unconventional thinking to policy making.  While Cummings' experiment flamed out spectacularly, its echoes can now be heard in the unlikely setting of Bangladesh.

Mahfuj Alam, a prominent figure in Bangladesh's current political landscape, has issued his own call for radical reform of the country's bureaucracy. 

Like Cummings, he envisions a cadre of young, tech-savvy professionals bypassing the creaky gears of the old guard. 

Mahfuj's appeal has resonated with a youthful population yearning for change, but can his vision overcome the deep-rooted resistance to reform?

Bangladesh's civil service has long been plagued by political patronage and inertia. Critics argue that it functions more as an arm of the ruling party than a neutral instrument of governance.

This politicization has become particularly acute under the Awami League's extended tenure, fueling perceptions of bias and undermining public trust.

The interim government, tasked with the Herculean task of reforming this entrenched system, surely faces an uphill battle. 

Past attempts at reform have  foundered on the shoals of bureaucratic resistance. Mahfuj's strategy of creating a parallel structure of skilled outsiders offers an intriguing, albeit risky, alternative.

Whether this bold experiment will succeed remains to be seen.  Bangladesh's "weirdos and misfits" may well find themselves entangled in the same web of patronage and inertia that has stymied reform for decades.

But in a country yearning for change, their disruptive energy may be just what's needed to shake up the status quo.

Cummings’ legacy: What Bangladesh can learn

Let’s first take a look at what happened in Great Britain.

Cummings, Boris Johnson's erstwhile consigliere, tried to shake up Britain's hidebound bureaucracy by injecting it with data scientists, renegade economists, and tech wizards. 

His primary goal was to circumvent the ossified civil service and inject some Silicon Valley disruption into the halls of Whitehall. The experiment, however, imploded in a cloud of controversy and infighting.

Now, Mahfuj is embarking on a similar quest to reform his country's own entrenched bureaucracy. 

He, too, envisions a cadre of young, skilled professionals bypassing the traditional system. But can Bangladesh learn from the wreckage of Cummings' failed revolution?

The key, it seems, lies in striking a balance between disruption and inclusion. Cummings' approach, while audacious, alienated career civil servants and ultimately fueled resistance to his reforms.

His opaque selection process and disdain for established procedures created more chaos than change.

Mahfuj must avoid these pitfalls.  He needs to ensure transparency and meritocracy in recruiting his new guard, while also finding ways to integrate them with the existing bureaucracy. 

This means clear criteria, open competition, and a commitment to collaboration rather than confrontation.

The challenge is formidable.  Bangladesh's civil service, like its British counterpart, is deeply resistant to change. 

But with a deft touch and a willingness to learn from past mistakes, Mahfuj's experiment may yet succeed where Cummings' failed.  The future of Bangladesh's governance may depend on it.

Mahfuj Alam’s vision: A Bangladeshi experiment

There is no doubt that Mahfuj’s ambitious plan to overhaul Bangladesh's government has captured the imagination of a nation weary of the status quo.

His call for young, talented individuals to lead the charge resonates deeply with a generation that came of age during a period of rampant corruption and political stagnation. 

Mahfuj's vision harkens back to the spirit of the mass uprising that challenged the kleptocracy that ruled Bangladesh for 15 long years, a movement where civil society demanded accountability from a bureaucracy widely seen as complicit in the plunder.

What sets Mahfuj's initiative apart is its sheer scale and ambition. He envisions a sweeping transformation of the civil service, one that empowers young professionals and dismantles the entrenched power structures that have long stifled progress.

This youth-led movement holds the potential to revitalize Bangladesh's governance in several crucial ways. 

Firstly, it taps into the vast potential of the country's youthful population, over 40% of whom are under 25.

By providing opportunities for this generation to serve in government roles traditionally dominated by older, politically connected elites, Mahfuj's initiative could inject a much-needed dose of dynamism into the system.

Secondly, Mahfuj's plan promises to decentralize power, breaking the stranglehold of the central bureaucracy and empowering local administrators to implement policies tailored to their specific needs.

This shift could unleash a wave of innovation and responsiveness, allowing regions to address their unique challenges without being hamstrung by Dhaka's bureaucracy.

Finally, by creating a diverse network of reformers, Mahfuj seeks to foster a culture of accountability and transparency.

This new cadre of civil servants, unburdened by the baggage of the past, could bypass the vested interests that have long obstructed progress.

Greater transparency in recruitment and policy implementation could also help restore public trust in a system that has been deeply eroded by years of corruption and mismanagement.

Mahfuj's vision is bold, and the challenges ahead are formidable. But his appeal to the idealism and energy of Bangladesh's youth offers a glimmer of hope for a more responsive and accountable government, one that truly serves the needs of its people.

What will be the risks and challenges

While Mahfuj's bold vision for reforming Bangladesh's bureaucracy has ignited hope, it also comes fraught with significant risks. 

Attempting to bypass the deeply entrenched civil service could backfire, creating friction and slowing progress rather than accelerating it. 

The existing bureaucracy, with its intricate web of relationships and vested interests, may view Mahfuj’s initiative as a threat, leading to resistance and sabotage.

Furthermore, Mahfuj's non-traditional recruitment methods could create a perception of elitism, alienating those within the existing system who might otherwise be open to reform.

If the process is seen as favoring a select group of individuals, disconnected from the realities of Bangladesh's political landscape, it could undermine Mahfuj's credibility and fuel resentment.

Perhaps the biggest challenge lies in ensuring the sustainability of Mahfuj's reforms.  History is littered with examples of parallel systems that collapsed once the initial enthusiasm waned or leadership changed. 

The demise of Cummings' experiment in Britain serves as a cautionary tale. Without careful integration with existing institutions, Mahfu's initiative could prove to be a fleeting phenomenon, dependent on the continued support of individual leaders and vulnerable to shifting political winds.

Navigating these challenges will surely require a deft touch. Mahfuj must find a way to balance his desire for radical change with the need to build consensus and ensure buy-in from key stakeholders. 

He must also address concerns about elitism and transparency, ensuring that his reforms are seen as fair and inclusive. 

Ultimately, the success of Mahfuj's ambitious plan will depend not only on the brilliance of his vision but also on his ability to navigate the treacherous currents of Bangladesh's political landscape.

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Adil Mahmood is a former journalist