Politics shapes the destiny of a nation. It is the root system of the state, sustaining its institutions, and the compass guiding humanity’s long journey towards civilisation. Yet, over time, this noble ideal has, in many places, become imprisoned within the corridors of power. The lamp of political principle has been dimmed by the flames of personal ambition; the river of public welfare has run dry, leaving behind a desert of power politics.

As a result, the very word ‘politics’ now evokes frustration, distrust and even disgust among sections of the younger generation. Their response is often blunt: ‘I hate politics.’ But politics is the lifeblood of the state, flowing through every institution and aspect of public life. Can we really distance ourselves from the pulse of society by rejecting politics altogether?

Politics is not a temporary theatrical performance staged around the throne of power. It is the architecture of our collective existence. Which communities receive opportunities, whose voices are heard, whose rights are protected and whose dreams are allowed to flourish are all shaped, to a considerable extent, by political ideas and decisions. Politics, therefore, is not merely the art of governing; it is the profound responsibility of shaping human destiny and the future of society.

From the ancient Greek philosophers to modern political thinkers, the central question has remained remarkably consistent: who should stand at the heart of the state – the people or those who wield power? Plato's vision of an ideal republic, Aristotle's conception of human beings as political animals, Rousseau's social contract and John Locke's philosophy of individual liberty all offer different answers to the relationship between citizens and the state. Yet they share an important underlying principle: political authority must ultimately serve human beings, not itself.

Unfortunately, our political culture sometimes appears to have abandoned the garden of principle for the thorny wilderness of power. There, the weeds of blind loyalty grow faster than the flowers of reason, while the fragrance of ideals is overwhelmed by the smoke of personal interest.

If we imagine the state as a human body, its constitution is the backbone, democracy its heartbeat, parliament its brain, the executive its limbs and the judiciary its conscience. The media and civil society form its nervous system, the economy provides its vital energy, and education gives it the ability to see beyond the present. When coordination among these institutions breaks down, the entire body politic begins to suffer.

Just as a human body cannot survive without a functioning heartbeat, a state cannot retain its moral strength when the lifeblood of democracy is obstructed. And when the conscience of the judiciary falls asleep, citizens risk losing their last refuge against injustice.

Perhaps the greatest crisis arises when a state begins to disguise its illnesses as signs of good health. Corruption is presented as an unavoidable reality, questions are branded as conspiracies, criticism is treated as hostility, and unquestioning obedience is celebrated as patriotism.

Yet a state that is afraid to look at its own reflection, and unwilling to acknowledge its wounds, will find recovery increasingly difficult. Criticism is not the enemy of the state; it is the sound of conscience knocking at its door. A healthy political system does not fear scrutiny. It welcomes it as an essential condition of accountability and reform.

The political disengagement of young people should therefore be understood both as an expression of disappointment and as a quiet demand for political renewal. When displays of power matter more than ideals, competition for positions takes precedence over public service, and personal connections outweigh merit, it is hardly surprising that young people lose faith in politics.

But there is an important truth we must not overlook: when people of integrity and vision withdraw from political life, darkness does not leave the space empty. It is quickly occupied by forces driven by narrow self-interest. Abandoning a river because its water has become polluted will not quench our thirst. The responsibility is to clean the river and restore its flow.

Another inseparable dimension of politics is its relationship with history, heritage, civilisation, culture and the land we call home. History is a nation's mirror of memory; heritage gives it roots; civilisation represents its accumulated achievements; culture expresses its soul; and the motherland provides the foundation of its identity.

No nation can build a sustainable political future by uprooting these foundations. Just as a tree without roots is vulnerable to the slightest storm, a politics that forgets its history will lose its direction when confronted by the first major challenge.

The sacrifices made for our language, the struggle for independence, movements for democratic rights, the sweat of farmers and workers, and the countless sacrifices of ordinary citizens are all indispensable chapters in our national story. This history belongs to the entire nation. It must never become the exclusive property of any political party or ideological group.

When history is viewed only through the coloured lens of partisan interests, the true shape of the past becomes distorted. We must embrace our history with respect, assess it with impartiality and draw lessons from it to build a better future.

The motherland is more than lines drawn on a map. It lives in the murmuring of rivers, the dust of village paths, the sweat on a farmer's brow, the language spoken by our mothers, the courtyards of our childhood, the melodies of folk traditions and the accumulated wisdom of generations.

Politics that cannot hear the suffering of ordinary people, development that remains indifferent to dying rivers, and modernisation that measures progress only through the height of buildings while abandoning indigenous culture are all impoverished in spirit.

The true measure of development cannot simply be the length of roads, the number of bridges or the height of skyscrapers. The more important questions are whether people's lives have become safer, more dignified and full of opportunity, and whether development has improved their everyday realities.

What we need now is a new dawn in politics. Young people must move beyond the narrow windows of partisan allegiance and step into the wider landscape of civic responsibility. They must understand the constitution, study history, develop an understanding of economics, learn to verify information and embrace disagreement as an essential part of intellectual growth.

No political leader stands above the state. No political party can claim to be a substitute for the people. And no exercise of power should ever be beyond accountability.

The journey from ‘I hate politics’ to ‘I love politics’ must not be understood as an invitation to blind loyalty towards any individual, party or ideology. Rather, it should represent a commitment to justice, respect for human rights, responsibility towards history and faith in the possibilities of civilisation.

Politics should become a beacon of light, illuminating human potential rather than concealing the darkness of power.

Ultimately, we must remember that a state is not merely a geographical territory. It is the map of a nation's aspirations, the inheritance of its history and a promise made to future generations. If politics can become the guardian of that promise, it will stand as one of humanity's greatest achievements.

But if it becomes so intoxicated by power that it forgets the faces of ordinary people, history will eventually summon its practitioners to account.

People deserve a politics enriched by the strength of its roots, illuminated by the wisdom of history, elevated by the beauty of culture and animated by the spirit of humanity.

It is time for politics to step down from the stage of power and return to the doorsteps of ordinary people – where the hopes, aspirations and dignity of citizens become the most precious articles of the nation's constitution.

Political Analyst and Social Thinker
Email: fokoruddincse@gmail.com