Bangladesh has no shortage of strategies, frameworks, and masterplans for education. From UNESCO’s Readiness Assessment Model to the government’s Blended Education and Skills Masterplan, the paperwork is there. Anyone who has worked inside the system knows that good frameworks alone do not guarantee change.
Why? Because the real obstacles lie in the politics of time, space, and power. Unless we confront these, AI in education risks being another shiny plan that never takes root.
The age of distraction
To tackle complex challenges like climate change or equitable education, groups need to think and act deeply together. Yet we live in what might be called an age of distraction. Policymakers and practitioners are constantly busy -- running from one meeting to the next, scanning headlines, approving projects -- but rarely have the time to engage in deep reading, deep writing, or deep listening.
Otto Scharmer, the systems thinker, describes four levels of listening:
- Downloading: Hearing words but letting them pass in one ear and out the other.
- Debating: Listening with an open mind, but only at the level of facts and logic.
- Empathizing: Listening with an open heart, attuned to the emotions behind the words.
- Presencing: Listening with an open will, where the speaker’s and listener’s futures intertwine.
Most of us, Scharmer warns, stay stuck in the first two levels. That is true in Bangladesh’s education system as well. Without the capacity to listen deeply, how can leaders speak or act deeply?
AI may promise faster analysis and decision support, but if humans cannot slow down to use these tools with wisdom, frameworks will remain surface-level checklists.
The politics of power
A second barrier is the way development actors often work in silos. Ministries, NGOs, and donors may all claim to champion education reform, but too often they work despite each other. Each designs its own projects, competes for visibility, and lobbies policymakers separately.
This creates what might be called development distractions. Policymakers are pulled in different directions, chasing donor priorities or project funds, instead of exercising autonomy to design coherent strategies. The result? High-budget projects that look impressive on paper but lack long-term sustainability or alignment with national priorities.
AI in education could become yet another fragmented project -- rolled out by different agencies, tested in isolation, and never scaled -- unless we address this political economy of distraction.
The politics of space
The physical layout of Bangladesh’s education bureaucracy is itself a barrier to collaboration. Consider this:
- The Ministry of Education and the Directorate of Secondary and Higher Education sit near the Secretariat.
- The National Curriculum and Textbook Board (NCTB) is in Motijheel.
- BANBEIS is at Dhaka University.
- NAEM is in Dhanmondi.
- The Directorate of Primary Education (DPE) is in Mirpur.
- The National Academy for Primary Education (NAPE) is all the way in Mymensingh.
Each of these bodies plays a crucial role. Yet scattered across the city (and beyond), how often do their staff have the chance for informal “water-cooler conversations” that spark collaboration? Even within offices, architecture rarely encourages open coordination.
Technology may help bridge this gap -- virtual platforms, digital twins, even the new metro line making travel easier -- but unless we consciously design for ecosystem interactions, geography will continue to reinforce silos.
The politics of governance
Perhaps the most entrenched barrier lies in power structures inherited from colonial administration. The cadre system divides civil servants into administrative and technical tracks. The logic is that administrative cadres can manage any sector, while technical cadres bring subject-matter expertise.
In practice, this means officials with backgrounds in forestry or land management may suddenly be placed in charge of education policy -- making decisions without ever having taught in a classroom. Technical professionals, meanwhile, are often sidelined from decision-making authority.
Contrast this with Malaysia, where entry into the Ministry of Education requires at least five years of teaching experience. In Bangladesh, teaching rarely leads to policymaking; instead, education policy is too often shaped by people with little grounding in pedagogy.
The result? Decisions about curriculum, teacher training, or the role of AI are not based on the best available evidence, but on bureaucratic precedent and administrative convenience.
If Bangladesh wants AI in education to succeed, technical expertise must be empowered, not subordinated to outdated governance logics.
Why frameworks fail without trust
At the heart of these challenges is trust -- or rather, the lack of it. Research from the Stanford Social Innovation Review notes that “the single most important factor behind all successful collaborations is trust-based relationships.” Without trust, networks collapse into competition, delivery units become turf wars, and frameworks gather dust.
Bangladesh’s education system reflects this reality. Actors distrust one another’s motives; cadres distrust professionals; agencies distrust NGOs; donors distrust government capacity. AI cannot solve this by itself. But unless we build trust, no framework -- no matter how elegant -- will deliver results.
The stakes
Why does all this matter? Because AI is not a neutral tool. It will amplify whatever system it is placed into. If deployed in an ego-system, it will accelerate competition, confusion, and fragmentation. If embedded in an ecosystem, it could enhance collaboration, alignment, and collective intelligence.
That choice depends less on the algorithms and more on the politics of time, space, and power in Bangladesh’s education system.
Shakil Ahmed is an educator, futurist and storyteller at Ridiculous Futures, network coordinator at #NextGenEdu and studying his PhD in Futures Studies at Tamkang University, Taiwan.