Bangladesh’s politics today resembles a peculiar, colorful stage where new dramas, new characters, and fresh confrontations unfold daily. Once, the main instruments of this political theater were posters, banners, slogans, and long marches. But times have changed—so has the lexicon of protest. Kitchen eggs and footwear have now become the new language of politics, fresh symbols of dissent, and even a form of “folk literature.”
From the outside, it may appear laughable—is this really a form of protest? But a closer look reveals that egg and shoe-throwing is not mere amusement; it is the manifestation of deep political frustration, anger, and satire. The French are called romantic, the Japanese disciplined, the Americans courageous—and Bangladesh seems to have earned a unique identity: “They protest by throwing eggs and showing shoes.”
At first, the international community assumed it might be a new kind of festival for the Bengali people. They chuckled at the egg-throwing spectacles abroad—at Begumpara in London, Jackson Heights in New York, or Lakemba in Sydney—and thought, “Ah, a new carnival!” But eventually, they realized that it was no festival; it was a sharp, satirical depiction of a nation’s political frustrations. Just as jute once symbolized national pride, eggs and shoes have now become Bangladesh’s new political brand. The difference is clear: selling jute brought foreign currency, but throwing eggs brings YouTube clips, TikTok videos, and international laughter.
Despite our pride in Rabindra Sangeet, Lalon songs, Baul traditions, Jamdani, muslin, or jute heritage, the most widely discussed cultural symbol today is this egg-and-shoe phenomenon. Have we truly entered a new era where poetry or music no longer defines our national identity, but the trajectory of eggs and the flight of shoes does? This question now challenges us.
Bangladesh’s simplified political traditions no longer exist. Politics has grown complex, and politicians increasingly entangled in greed. In the past, the barometer of government failure often reached alarming highs. Politics here is no longer a gentlemanly game. The streets are now dominated by the “egg squads” and “shoe wielders.” Standing outside and throwing an egg or a shoe has become far more effective than hours of parliamentary deliberation. Budget deficits, bank fraud, climate crises—all complex issues are distilled into simple actions. An egg becomes the ultimate argument; a shoe becomes the final word. This mode of politics is direct, swift, and delivers the public’s sentiment clearly. Democratic discussions are now replaced by a new tradition of immediate projection.
Though aggressive and direct, this new style of politics conveys public sentiment and political messages precisely. Parliamentary debates and analytical reports are bypassed in favor of instant action, where every egg and shoe is more than protest—it is the latest medium for expressing citizens’ anger, resistance, and political influence. In short, this represents a new political posture where dialogue is secondary, and direct action communicates citizens’ messages to the government.
Bangladesh’s political stage today is a unique, colorful arena where fresh dramas, new characters, and surprising conflicts play out daily—sometimes leaving audiences awestruck. Earlier, the language of this theater was banners, slogans, microphones, marches, and fasts. Citizens would take to the streets with slogans in their voices, banners in hand, hoping their political message would resonate. Today’s generation, however, considers these methods outdated and unnecessary. Now, the new language of the streets is eggs and shoes—political tools, social performance, and art all in one. Parliamentary debates, media coverage, and televised discussions seem irrelevant. A single egg thrown, or a shoe hurled, becomes the latest expression of public frustration—sometimes direct, sometimes satirical. This is more than mere anger; it is a social message uniting people across age, class, and background. Children, youth, and elders alike witness firsthand that symbols of state failure are now represented by the trajectory of eggs and the swing of shoes—a strange yet potent projection of civic action.
Internationally, Bangladesh is recognized with humor: “A country where the first instrument of protest is an egg, and the final word is a shoe.” This is not mere satire; it is an internationally recognized marker of Bangladesh’s political culture. Today, images of Bangladeshi protests go viral on YouTube, TikTok, and news media worldwide. Every nation has an identity: the French are romantic, the Japanese disciplined, the Americans brave. Bangladesh’s identity today is: “They protest with eggs and shoes.” If symbolic representations were added next to the national flag at the UN, one could imagine a basket of eggs alongside a pair of shoes. Textbooks for children might read: “Throwing eggs and displaying shoes is a cherished cultural heritage of Bangladesh.” On one hand, it’s embarrassing; on the other, a kind of satirical pride—this is our new form of national branding. After jute, this is arguably Bangladesh’s most talked-about “export product,” albeit one that brings international embarrassment and laughter instead of foreign currency.
Will we overcome this “eggocracy,” or will UNESCO one day declare: “Egg and shoe-throwing is Bangladesh’s priceless cultural heritage”? Perhaps we will proudly proclaim, “Yes, this is our national pride.” Yet along with that pride may come bitter irony, because such traditions are not markers of national progress, but rather symbols of frustration.
Our expatriates are a source of pride. Their contribution to the nation goes far beyond remittances. While sending money strengthens families, mitigates inflation, and supports foreign investment and banking systems, they now contribute in a new political and cultural dimension—what some call “Egg Dance.” Whenever ministers, MPs, or political leaders travel abroad, expatriates appear with eggs in hand. From Jackson Heights in New York to Begumpara in London and Military Road in Toronto, eggs are hurled. This is more than protest—it is an international expression combining political satire, social discontent, and citizen power. Initially, foreigners are bewildered. Some imagine it as a spiritual ritual to cleanse leaders of misdeeds; others see it as a form of performance art where citizens artistically direct their frustrations at the protagonist and antagonist alike. Through YouTube, TikTok, and global media, this “Egg Dance” spreads rapidly, creating international awareness while carrying political and social weight.
Eggs and shoes are not just protest tools—they are becoming a national brand. Pride or embarrassment? After jute, they are perhaps the most discussed “export product.” No foreign currency is generated; only international attention, satire, and laughter. Expatriates’ contributions now extend beyond economics—they reinforce Bangladesh’s political identity globally. The combination of remittances and “Egg Dance” demonstrates that Bangladeshis, whether at home or abroad, can project their discontent, satire, and political demands on the international stage. This has become a cultural brand, marking Bangladesh as a peculiar, humorous, yet politically profound nation.
Digital platforms amplify the power of the egg. Today, protest success is no longer measured by crowds but by likes, comments, shares, and views. Each egg thrown at the right moment becomes a viral video on YouTube, TikTok, Instagram, and global media—a political currency of sorts. Shoe-throwing similarly garners hundreds of thousands of views, conveying political messages beyond entertainment. Social media has created a new culture, where influence is defined by screen visibility. In the future, Bangladesh may even host awards like “Best Egg Throw” or “Best Shoe Launch.” Politicians might walk the red carpet while a screen flashes: “Here occurred the most historic egg and shoe toss.” Social media ensures the protest remains permanent, visible, and mapped on the international stage.
So think: the French are romantic, the Japanese disciplined, the Americans brave. What about Bangladesh? “They protest with eggs and throw shoes.” If symbols were placed beside the national flag at the UN, perhaps a basket of eggs and a pair of shoes would be there—our unique cultural heritage. The question remains: is this a source of national pride, or truly a mark of embarrassment? Are we writing a new history, or merely making ourselves the subject of global amusement?
Every nation has its identity. The French are romantic, the Japanese disciplined, the Americans brave. When Bangladesh’s name comes up, foreigners laugh and say: “They are the people who always have eggs in hand.” Perhaps one day, textbooks will include eggs and shoes as part of Bangladesh’s priceless cultural heritage. On one hand, it is embarrassing; on the other, satirically proud—this is national branding in the age of “eggocracy.” After jute, this is arguably the most discussed export product. The difference is clear: no foreign currency comes, only international laughter.
Will Bangladesh escape this “eggocracy”? Or will UNESCO declare: “Egg and shoe-throwing is Bangladesh’s invaluable cultural heritage”? Then we may proudly say, “Yes, this is our national pride,” though with bitter irony, as such a tradition signifies frustration, not progress.
The writer is a journalist, Social Researcher and Secretary General, Columnist Forum of Bangladesh
