Published: 11:56 PM, 18 September 2026
Education Day’s Vision Remains Elusive Even After 64 Years
Education is universally regarded as the backbone of a nation. Just as an individual cannot stand upright without a backbone, a nation cannot ascend to the zenith of progress and prosperity without a robust and enlightened education system. The more educated a society becomes, the greater its capacity for development, innovation, social cohesion and prosperity.
Without education, balanced and sustainable national development remains an elusive proposition. Indeed, history demonstrates that if one seeks to weaken or destroy a nation, undermining its education system can be among the most insidious ways to do so.
When we turn the pages of history, we find that one of the earliest targets in attempts to annihilate a people has often been their intellectual heritage. In numerous conflicts, victorious forces destroyed libraries, manuscripts, schools, and cultural institutions so that succeeding generations of the vanquished would be severed from their history, knowledge, culture and traditions.
In 1962, the autocratic Ayub regime constituted an education commission headed by then Education Secretary S. M. Sharif and introduced a profoundly discriminatory education policy, subsequently known as the “Sharif Commission.” Its underlying philosophy effectively treated education as a privilege for those who could afford it, transforming a fundamental social right into a commodity accessible primarily to the affluent. The policy was widely perceived as discriminatory and inimical to the aspirations of the people.
In protest against this inequitable policy, the vigilant student community called for a hartal on September 17, 1962. Professionals, workers, farmers, and people from various walks of life joined the students in solidarity.
On September 17, at around 10 a.m., thousands of students and citizens assembled at Dhaka University. Following a rally, a procession set out. Soon, news arrived that police had opened fire at Jagannath College. The procession consequently moved towards Nawabpur. Seeking to avoid a confrontation with the police near the High Court, the demonstrators turned towards Abdul Gani Road. The police, however, attacked the procession from behind.
A second confrontation erupted in front of Dhaka Court, where police and the East Pakistan Rifles again opened fire. Three protesters—Babul, Golam Mostafa and Wajiullah—were killed, more than a hundred people were injured, and hundreds were arrested. Similar attacks took place in other parts of the country. In Tongi, police fired on a joint student-worker procession, killing a worker named Sundar Ali.
The streets, stained crimson with blood, became a grim tableau of state repression. Yet the Ayub regime ultimately failed to impose its discriminatory education policy. In the aftermath, a broader movement emerged demanding a pro-people, equitable, and democratic education system.
Thus, September 17, born from the blood and sacrifice of students and ordinary citizens, gradually became recognized as National Education Day.
The struggle for universal access to education is inextricably intertwined with the historical evolution of Bangladesh. The movement was not merely a protest against a particular commission; it was part of a much larger struggle for dignity, equality, democratic rights and social justice.
At the time, the East Pakistan government had imposed Section 144 on September 9, prohibiting rallies and picketing. Yet when students defied the restriction and took to the streets on September 10, ten were arrested. Several thousand students subsequently marched through Dhaka in defiance of Section 144. Among those arrested were Abul Hasnat, Abdur Rahim Azad, Abu Hena, Kazi Zafar Ahmed, Sirajul Alam Khan and Shah Moazzem Hossain.
The students declared that unless the Education Commission’s report was withdrawn by September 17, a territory-wide hartal would be observed across East Pakistan.
Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy raised the matter in the National Assembly and urged the authorities to reconsider the report. On September 16, Suhrawardy arrived in Dhaka. Fazlul Qadir Chowdhury announced that the government would consider the report, but the students resolved to proceed with their programme.
On September 17, massive demonstrations erupted across East Pakistan and were met with baton charges and gunfire. In Dhaka, 52 people were admitted to hospital, 253 were injured, and 1,059 students were arrested. At noon, the military was deployed to contain the situation. Nawab Hasan Askari’s car was attacked, while Golam Mostafa was killed. On September 18, silent processions were held. Section 144 remained in force in Dhaka and Chattogram.
Through prolonged struggle and immense sacrifice, we eventually secured a map, an independent homeland, and a red-and-green flag. We also inherited the legacy of Education Day. Yet, tragically, the day receives little attention today beyond progressive and left-leaning circles.
More than six decades later, the fundamental aspiration of those students—to establish universal, equitable, and quality education—remains incompletely fulfilled. Despite various reforms and policy initiatives, the bureaucratic and hierarchical legacy inherited from the colonial and Pakistani eras continues to haunt our education system.
More troublingly, this crucial chapter of the history of education and the student movement has not received adequate representation in mainstream textbooks. Consequently, a large segment of the present generation remains oblivious to this remarkable chapter of our national history and, therefore, deprived of its deeper significance.
Education has once again become a commodity. The difference is that whereas it was once traded in open markets, it is now marketed through polished institutions, sophisticated campuses, and glossy advertisements. Private kindergartens, colleges and universities have proliferated, many of which demand substantial financial resources from families. Yet high tuition fees do not necessarily guarantee commensurate educational quality.
Ultimately, in the name of modernisation and reform, we embraced the National Education Policy 2010—a document articulated in polished and aspirational language, but whose implementation has often fallen conspicuously short of its stated objectives.
Instead of establishing the universal, equitable, scientific and humanistic education system envisioned in the spirit of Education Day, we have witnessed the gradual commodification and commercialisation of education. The consequences are discernible at every level—from primary and secondary education to higher education.
The country continues to experience a shortage of qualified teachers. Teachers and employees are still compelled to resort to hunger strikes, sometimes staking their lives for legitimate demands. Such circumstances constitute a profound affront to the ideals for which Education Day emerged.
We must remember that the blood of Wajiullah, Babul and Golam Mostafa did not simply dry on the streets of Dhaka. It became part of the bloodstream of a nation and coursed through the intellectual arteries of its emerging consciousness. That river of sacrifice eventually converged with the greater rivers of bloodshed that culminated in Bangladesh’s independence.
Therefore, if we aspire to propel the country towards the zenith of sustainable development, we must first formulate an education policy founded on broad national consensus—one that treats education not as a privilege or commercial product but as an inalienable right.
Let the spirit of Education Day reverberate across the country: Education is not a commodity; education is a fundamental right for all.
It is now imperative to incorporate the history and significance of Education Day into secondary-level textbooks. The state should also take effective institutional initiatives to observe the day officially and promote public awareness of its historical importance.
Inspired by the egalitarian spirit of Education Day, we must eliminate the glaring disparities between rural and urban education. A child’s educational destiny should not be determined by geography, family income or social status.
From the vantage point of the present, it is difficult to identify a genuinely coherent and effective national education framework capable of addressing the multifaceted challenges confronting Bangladesh. Education continues to operate through multiple parallel streams, while commercialisation has become increasingly pervasive.
In some instances, curricula have been burdened with communal overtones; the proliferation of certificate-oriented education has undermined academic integrity; and the overall quality of learning has deteriorated alarmingly.
Our pass rates may be rising. The number of students achieving GPA-5 may be increasing. Yet these numerical indicators cannot, by themselves, establish that the quality of education has improved. The shortcomings visible among many students today testify to a deeper crisis: we are producing certificates at a pace that is not matched by the cultivation of knowledge, critical thinking, creativity, ethics or intellectual independence.
The true condition of our education system—particularly higher education—can be discerned by examining our universities. In many public universities, the academic environment has deteriorated over time. Partisan politics, irregularities, administrative dysfunction, and institutional mismanagement have frequently overshadowed the core mission of higher education.
Yet the essence of a university is its students. Children from middle- and lower-income families enter these institutions carrying immense aspirations and dreams of transforming their lives and contributing to society. Too often, however, they find themselves ensnared in a labyrinth of corruption, misgovernance, violence and disorder. Some have even lost their lives within this vicious cycle.
The lifeblood of a university is research. Yet research frequently receives inadequate institutional priority. Plagiarism persists, academic integrity is compromised, and allegations of intellectual misconduct continue to surface. Instead of becoming crucibles of knowledge and innovation, some universities risk degenerating into factories that merely produce certificates, clerks and bureaucrats.
The culture of free inquiry remains inadequate. Freedom of expression and intellectual pluralism are often constrained, while sycophancy, servility, flattery, and institutional conformity can flourish.
Public universities continue to confront a constellation of problems: inadequate educational quality, insufficient student accommodation, poor nutrition, limited healthcare facilities, and concerns over campus safety.
Whenever a movement or crisis emerges, one familiar response from the authorities is to close universities indefinitely. Such closures may temporarily suppress visible unrest, but they do not resolve the structural problems that generate it. There remains an urgent need to address session jams, corruption, administrative failures, and institutional mismanagement at their roots.
Some vice-chancellors publicly claim that their universities do not suffer from session jams. But the question is more fundamental: how should a university be governed, what academic standards should it uphold, and what intellectual environment should it cultivate?
Much depends on the leadership and administrative capacity of the vice-chancellor. This makes the process of appointing vice-chancellors a matter of immense national importance. It is legitimate, therefore, to scrutinise whether appointments are based primarily on academic merit, administrative competence, institutional vision and integrity.
Historically, universities were often led by poets, writers, intellectuals, distinguished academics, and eminent public figures who possessed both intellectual stature and administrative credibility. The contemporary landscape has generated persistent public debate over whether political proximity and lobbying exert excessive influence over appointments to such critical positions.
The consequences of weak institutional leadership can be profound. The future of a nation can, in many respects, be gauged by the condition of its universities. When universities fail to nurture independent minds, rigorous scholarship, ethical leadership and democratic values, the consequences inevitably reverberate throughout society.
Yet public universities are financed substantially through taxpayers’ money and public resources. This raises a fundamental question: has the state adequately assessed what society receives in return for this enormous investment? How effectively are universities preparing the next generation for the intellectual, technological, economic and ethical challenges of the future?
Accountability remains indispensable. Our public universities cannot be measured merely by their number. Their proliferation does not automatically signify educational advancement. We do not necessarily need universities in every district or at every conceivable location; what we need are institutions capable of providing rigorous education, meaningful research, vibrant intellectual life, and dignified learning environments.
Autonomy should empower universities rather than render them vulnerable to external influence. A genuinely autonomous university should possess the institutional courage and intellectual independence to harness its own potential.
There was a time when university campuses were vibrant arenas of political debate, democratic participation, cultural expression, and intellectual contestation. Today, these traditions require revitalisation. Teacher recruitment must be transparent and merit-based; academic and administrative positions must not become prizes distributed through political patronage or lobbying.
Otherwise, education will continue to drift away from its fundamental purpose, while Bangladesh’s position in the global knowledge ecosystem risks further deterioration. If corrective measures are not undertaken with urgency, higher education may gradually descend into institutional stagnation.
The path forward requires more than rhetorical commitments. Commercialisation must be restrained; educational inequality must be reduced; and a time-responsive, evidence-based and broadly representative education commission should be constituted to examine the structural weaknesses of the entire education sector.
The education system must be comprehensively restructured, with particular emphasis on higher education, research, teacher development, institutional governance, academic freedom, and the strengthening of universities.
If private educational institutions are subjected to taxation or regulatory burdens that ultimately raise the cost of education, those policies should be carefully reviewed in the interest of affordability and educational access. At the same time, commercialisation must not be allowed to eclipse the public purpose of education.
Educational institutions should become spaces where democratic values, ethical reasoning, cultural practice, scientific inquiry, and freedom of thought can flourish. They must be protected from political violence and partisan coercion.
Above all, Bangladesh needs a quality-driven, inclusive, contemporary, and welfare-oriented education system capable of preparing citizens—not merely certificate holders—for the complexities of the twenty-first century. That is the enduring promise of Education Day. And that is the promise we are yet to fully realise.
Emran Emon is an eminent journalist, columnist and global affairs analyst. He can be reached at [email protected]
