Mohammad Basir-Ul-Haq Sinha : Bangladesh it seems, no longer frets over a shortage of doctors or engineers. Those once-coveted callings of the striving middle class have been quietly eclipsed. In their place, at every street corner and across every glowing screen, thrives a more abundant species: the self-anointed constitutional expert.
There was a time when a mild fever sent citizens scurrying to Google in search of symptoms. Now the reflex has matured—or mutated. The urban middle class no longer diagnoses illness; it diagnoses the constitution. Facebook Live streams brim with impromptu lectures on articles and sub-clauses, delivered with such effortless fluency one might suspect the speakers have ingested the entire document alongside their evening rice.
Scroll through social media and the pattern is unmistakable. One voice pronounces, with sweeping authority: “Under Article 7, this is illegal.” Moments later, another descends to correct him: “No, brother, you’ve misunderstood Article 7—I watched a YouTube video just yesterday.”
Thus unfolds a digital courtroom where confidence outruns comprehension, and citations stretch as elastically as the arguments they are meant to support.
The transformation is, in its own way, extraordinary. Individuals who, only weeks ago, might have faltered over the pronunciation of “constitution” now perform as national commentators, dispensing verdicts with theatrical certainty. Expertise—once earned through years of study—has been democratised into a restless feed of half-digested insights and algorithmic bravado.
One can almost anticipate the formalization of this burgeoning economy. Job listings may soon follow: Part-time Constitutional Expert, Full-time Facebook Warrior. Qualifications optional; conviction compulsory; loyalty to the prevailing political wind strongly preferred.
The most reliable ritual arrives at the end of any argument. When logic thins, indignation swells. “Have you even read the constitution?” becomes the rhetorical equivalent of a slammed gavel—a final flourish in a debate that long ago slipped its factual moorings.
The irony is exquisite. In contemporary Bangladesh, reading the constitution is no longer strictly necessary. Speaking about it—loudly, confidently, and incessantly—is what confers legitimacy. Silence, it seems, is the only disqualifying offence. Author’s note: The accompanying image features sheep—actual sheep, not constitutional experts—lest any confusion arise._