Editor’s note: This is the first in a five-part series on the price of freedom, by exploring the work and experience of Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus in Bangladesh. Deseret News Opinion Editor Jay Evensen has known Yunus since 1997 when the world leader first visited Utah. Evensen traveled to Dhaka to speak again with Yunus, entrepreneurs, politicians in the country, and even revolutionaries seeking change, to understand the risks Yunus is enduring and why peace and opportunity in Bangladesh are so important to the United States.
- She was tortured, yet she still fights for freedom
- Finding entrepreneurs among the very poor
- A twist on capitalism
- Turning Bangladesh into a pluralistic cultural center
DHAKA, BANGLADESH — Muhammad Yunus has had a tumultuous year.
Last summer, as the world watched the summer Olympics in Paris, his life teetered on a precipice.
Although he had won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2006 jointly with Grameen Bank, which he founded in order to alleviate poverty through innovative and unsecured micro-loans, he had become a target of Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina.
There were charges that his telecommunications company, which had provided affordable mobile phones to a nation where the average monthly salary today is a scant $213, had defrauded employees.
Most serious, however, were Hasina’s baseless accusations that Yunus had used his influence to get the World Bank to withdraw funding for a major bridge project.
Time magazine said the regime had initiated more than 200 cases against Yunus.
Long-time Bangladeshi politicians today say it was common for Hasina’s political enemies to be arrested and tortured, with some of them disappearing permanently.
“They had taken away our right to food, our right to speak, and our right to justice,” Aparna Roy Das, the assistant secretary for marginal manpower development affairs in the Bangladesh Nationalist Party, told me through an interpreter. “They took control of the judiciary, using it for their own benefit. Only their voices were allowed to prevail, and everything had to go according to their will.”
But now, as Yunus visited Paris for the Olympics, Bangladesh was coming apart. University students had begun anti-government and pro-democracy protests. These had started as a movement against a quota system that limited government job opportunities for students, but they took on a broader meaning as Hasina cracked down on the protesters with deadly force. According to some estimates, more than 1,400 people were killed on the streets.
Yunus didn’t know what he should do.
“I’m hiding in Paris at that time. My colleagues were saying, don’t come back now; that as soon as you come back you will be put in jail,” Yunus told me in late February inside the expansive and elegant Jumuna Guest House, located on a tightly guarded compound in Dhaka that includes his current official residence.
“This is the beginning of this uprising. I already made a statement pleading to the world that some terrible things are happening in Bangladesh. The world must respond to it and stop it, because our government is killing people in the street.”
He contemplated fleeing to Germany, Italy or Brazil.
And then, momentum shifted. Hasina fled for her life to neighboring India.
And in Paris, his phone began to ring.
“The students who are the leaders of this movement, they called me up,” Yunus said. “In the beginning I tried to excuse myself. I said, ‘No, I don’t want to get involved in that, I have always avoided that in the past.’
“They kept insisting. They called me up again, and I said the same thing. They were so insistent.”
The students told Yunus he was urgently needed. At the time, Bangladesh had already gone three days without a government.
And so, Yunus, who hours earlier had faced a choice between prison or exile, suddenly became the man in charge of a troubled nation in search of a peaceful way forward after 15 years of oppression.
The official title of this unassuming peacemaker, who celebrates his 85th birthday at the end of the month, is Chief Adviser to the Government, a temporary assignment. With parliament dissolved, his job is to organize a path forward to a popular election as soon as possible. But at what price for a man who faced more opposition last week, and a country beset by problems? And why is freedom in Bangladesh important for America?
Into Bangladesh
The skies above Dhaka, or Bangladesh in general, are listed among the most polluted in the world, fueled by Dhaka’s overcrowded, dense, cacophonous and chaotic population of 22.5 million people.
But on the ground, the grey dissolves into vibrant colors. Modern cars mix with the bright reds, yellows and blues of rickshaws — some pedaled by drivers, others powered by electric motors — and forest-green three-wheeled taxis with cages on the sides to keep passengers from falling out.
Wherever you go, the city’s millions seem in perpetual motion, bound to converge simultaneously to block your path. Horns blare incessantly. Crosstown drives can take hours or minutes, playing havoc with schedules and interview plans.
It was into this teeming Third World capital I landed late one night in February with Deseret News photographer Scott Winterton, in search of the new leader I had first met years ago in Utah, and who now is trying to reform his home country in a lasting and meaningful way.
Dhaka hardly seems like the sort of place where answers to the world’s great problems could be found. And yet, that is what Yunus has been providing for much of his life. His radically innovative approach to wars, poverty and environmental concerns has already had a profound impact on many in his country and elsewhere.
And he loves Utah.
We arrived after a typically long and laborious ride through crowded streets, horns blaring on every side. As he greeted me, Yunus was quick to remind me of his connection to Utah and his affinity for the Deseret News.
“Deseret News is very important for me,” he said as we sat in Italian rococo-styled chairs arranged in a reception room filled with art works and a large Bangladeshi flag. “Because, it was at an historical moment when I had eye surgery, and he took me to visit your editorial board.”
Yunus motions toward Dr. Scott Leckman, a longtime friend and general surgeon in Salt Lake City, who, with his wife Kay, accompanied me and Winterton on this trip.
At our first meeting, in 1997, Yunus, only three hours prior, had undergone cataract surgery.
I reminded him that he kept marveling, during that first meeting, how his eyesight was improving by the minute as the fog of the operation lifted. At the time, I wrote that this was a metaphor of how, for many people trapped in poverty, Yunus had been able to lift the fog of despair from their lives.
It would be hard to find two places that contrast more than Utah — the fastest-growing state in the U.S. during the past decade and a place the American Legislative Exchange Council has, for 18 years running, ranked as having the nation’s best economic outlook — and Bangladesh.
In contrast to Bangladesh’s average yearly salary of $2,556, Utah’s average salary for full-time workers is $80,382, while the average household income is $131,648 — figures compiled by incomebyzipcode.com.
And yet Utah’s brand of poverty, from its Native American reservations to its urban pockets in its largest metro area, are not so different from Bangladesh. The Navajo Nation, much of which lies within the state, has a per capita income of $17,443, which is two-fifths that of the national average.
Utahns have welcomed Yunus during his several trips to the state through the years, including his speeches to civic organizations.
Maybe this is because his successful approaches to poverty rely heavily on capitalist principles, although with the twist of applying profits toward solving societal problems, rather than lining the pockets of investors.
Maybe it is because he often expresses his core belief that every person is born to be an entrepreneur.
In the mid-1970s, Yunus discovered that poor village women were being held back by usurious lenders. A woman who made bamboo furniture, for instance, had to give nearly all her profits to the lender, making it impossible for her to advance.
Mainstream banks, then as now, were not interested in loaning money to poor people without collateral. But Yunus discovered that if he loaned a woman a small amount, she could secure the materials to make her own furniture and keep the profits, repaying the loan and borrowing even more to keep the business going.
In the 1980s, he established the Grameen Bank using this principle. Borrowers were formed into support groups, becoming co-guarantors of their loans and helping each other succeed. Nearly all the borrowers are women. Yunus has said he learned that women tend to be more focused on the family’s future than are their husbands, although many of the borrowers I met in Bangladesh turned the operation of their businesses over to their husbands.
Yunus also has pioneered the concept of a “social business,” which operates like a normal business except that it exists to solve a societal need, whether it’s ending homelessness, developing a yogurt designed to contain the nutrition necessary to prevent night blindness or a way to provide affordable health care, and not to enrich investors.
His message seems to have resonated with many Utahns, although not all business leaders are standing in line to forgo profits in favor of a social good.
But both micro credit and social businesses have thrived despite the hardships of a hostile governing regime in Bangladesh.
Near the outskirts of Dhaka lies the Grameen Caledonian College of Nursing, a social-business-based private school with about 700 students. Its aim is to solve a debilitating nursing shortage in Bangladesh. Next to the college, the foundation of a new 750-bed hospital and medical school is being laid. This is many years behind schedule, but its progress is a symbol of regime change.
“It was blocked by the old regime,” said Lamiya Morshed, the principal coordinator for Sustainable Development Goals at the Chief Adviser’s Office in Bangladesh. “Everything we tried to do was blocked.”
But now, Yunus has been forced to transition from “banker to the poor,” as he often is called, to leader of a nation emerging from 15 years of autocratic rule. The paths forward are not clear.
Finding the path forward
Less than three weeks ago Yunus threatened to resign after the nation’s chief military leader, Gen. Waker-uz-Zaman, gave a speech highly critical of the pace of reforms and the perceived delay in holding elections. That led to protests and demands by the Bangladesh Nationalist Party, which sees a chance to gain power through quick elections.
Sources close to Yunus told me his cabinet talked him out of resigning, which would have led to a chaotic and possibly dangerous power vacuum. He also may have been influenced by an op-ed by Mahfuz Anam, editor and publisher of Bangladesh’s Daily Star.
“Every beat of my patriotic heart, every spark of my nation building energy, every iota of my common sense, every conclusion of my rational thinking compels me to most ardently, passionately and humbly appeal to Prof. Yunus not to resign from the position of holding the helm of the nation at this crucial time,” he wrote.
When we sat together in Dhaka, Yunus was blunt when asked what has surprised him most after taking control of the government. It is the degree to which corruption is ingrained into every sector, he said.
“You don’t realize, until you get into it, the extent of it, and how intricate it is all over the whole government system,” he said.
His plan is to make more interactions with government electronic rather than face-to-face. If you pay fees or taxes online, there are fewer chances for someone to expect a bribe.
“Avoid contact with government officials,” he said.
He admits it’s not the perfect solution. He also admits he won’t have time to unravel all government corruption in Bangladesh. His goal is to get momentum going in the right direction.
“If you can take care of 10% or 15% of it, people will see that this is possible,” he said. “You will initiate — start the process.”
From the day Yunus accepted the call to serve on that warm night in Paris, time has been a constant factor. Without a parliament, he is running the nation by himself, and although people I spoke to are grateful for basic freedoms they lacked for many years — speech, assembly and protest, for example — they need local representation and a way to legislate changes.
Late last week, Yunus announced that elections will be held in April of 2026. Politicians may protest the timing, but sources near the government tell me they believe a majority of people in Bangladesh support Yunus and his efforts. One of the main obstacles is compiling a reliable database of voters, which takes time.
But Yunus understands the perils elections may bring.
Two things are most important, he said. One is to have real, fair and honest elections, free from any corruption. The other is to enact real and lasting reforms.
And, because reforms can change or dissolve from one leader to the next, he has a plan for this, too.
After being named chief adviser to the government, he initiated 15 reform commissions. These were charged with, among other things, reforming the banking sector, the judiciary, the police and the constitution. All have now submitted their recommendations.
The next step is to build a consensus and to demand commitments to agreed-upon principles.
“We will take all the recommendations and ask every political party to check off if they agree or don’t agree” to each, individually.
“When all of these are marked, we can say these are the things with which all political parties agree,” he said. “They sign it and we call it the ‘July Charter,’” in commemoration of the revolution that began last July.
But while some reforms may take place before the elections, others may have to wait. He wants political parties to commit to enacting them in the event they assume power.
More than just an honor system, the consensus sign-off provides a form of transparency and accountability or, alternatively, shaming. Ultimately, the people are in charge of what happens.
“If the party which signed it is not following it up, the people always have a chance to ask them, why did you do that?,” he said. “So, next time we don’t want to vote for you, because you didn’t keep your word. You said you agreed. Nobody forced you to say that, but you fooled us.”
Faith and hope
Like all of Yunus’ ventures, there is a strong undercurrent of faith in humanity in this — a full measure of hope in the desires he believes most people have to succeed and to help others. It is the same optimism that leads him to say that poverty one day will disappear.
“The ultimate goal was to create a new Bangladesh,” he said. “We don’t want to go back to the old Bangladesh.”
The Awami League, the party that supported Hasina, was outlawed in May, pending an investigation into possible criminal actions. Some I spoke to accuse it of spreading lies about Yunus’ government fomenting sectarian violence against Hindus. They blame Hasina and her followers for causing mischief from exile.
Yunus acknowledges that political violence occurred during the revolution, but only for a short period and without his support. More than 100 people have been arrested in connection with these incidents, a member of his staff said.
“Awami League is the one who created all this mess,” Yunus said. “They’re hated everywhere.”
Sources tell me there is little concern that outlawing the Awami League will lead to violence. “They were going to be a threat no matter what,” one said.
Reforming an entire corruption-leaden nation in a little more than a year would be a tall order for any leader, let alone one who is nearly 85 years old. But it would have been an even taller order a year ago for Yunus to believe he could escape the certainty of prison to be given the chance.
If Yunus succeeds, it may be impossible for other nations to ignore, especially in South Asia. Political freedom leads naturally to economic freedom, as well as increases in health and longevity, innovation, and enterprise.
Spend any length of time talking with the “banker to the poor,” and you’re bound to believe it can happen.