Reclaiming imagination, inclusion, and integrity in an algorithmic age
Shakil Ahmed & Kazi Ferdous Pavel
This article was originally published in Dhaka Tribune on S12 Jun 2025.
AI is no longer a futuristic promise — it is reshaping how students learn, how teachers teach, and how decisions are made across Bangladesh’s educational systems. But a deeper question now confronts us: Who gets to author this future?
This was the heartbeat of a recent multi-stakeholder dialogue hosted by the Institute of Informatics and Development (IID) in Dhaka, where educators, technologists, students, policymakers, and civil society leaders gathered — not just to discuss tools and trends, but to confront purpose and power. Framed as a “Policy Addalogue,” the session asked participants to imagine what the first page of a people-owned AI-Education policy might say. What emerged was more than policy talk; it was a moment of collective authorship.
Participants wrote fears and hopes on colored cards. They stood in constellations of emotion — some hopeful, others cautious, many torn. They mapped insights, surfaced tensions, and imagined new futures. Again and again, the conversation returned to the same provocation: Will Bangladesh shape its own AI future, or have it shaped for us?
AI is already transforming sectors from agriculture to health, but in education, it brings uniquely personal stakes: it touches how we learn, how we think, and what we value as a society. That’s why the workshop didn’t begin with charts or use cases — it began with a story circle.
Participants were invited to reflect: “Why does AI matter for Bangladesh — right now?” Their answers were not about automation or efficiency. They spoke of dreams deferred, classrooms under strain, teachers overwhelmed, and students left behind. They named fears: surveillance, job loss, and exclusion. They also named hopes: personalized learning, access for children with disabilities, relief for overburdened teachers, and new pathways for youth.
One participant asked the question that echoed throughout the day:
“What is the root cause behind our drive to use AI? The fundamental question is: Why?”
Bangladesh’s current digital and educational landscape makes this question urgent. A nationally representative IID study surveying over 3,200 households found that only 16.5% of households had internet access, and just 2.7% owned a laptop — a sobering reminder that the majority of students and families remain digitally disconnected. Without structural investment, the promise of AI could simply widen the gaps it claims to bridge.
Is AI in education merely about catching up to global trends, or could it become a tool for national self-definition — designed in our own language, grounded in our culture, and powered by the imagination of our people?
Bangladesh has a choice to make: We can be passive users of foreign systems. Or we can be sovereign authors of an AI story that is inclusive, ethical, and deeply local.
In the story circle, each group crafted a headline to capture their shared sense of Bangladesh’s AI moment. Some likened AI to a double-edged sword. Others saw it as a mirror reflecting our fractured system. A few imagined it as a bridge — if we choose to build it right. These fragments were more than metaphors. They revealed a nation at a crossroads — hopeful but uncertain, capable yet constrained.
Participants did not speak of AI as a neutral tool. They spoke of systems, values, and structural choices that determine who benefits and who is left out. One said it plainly:
“Those with access to information and financial means will always be ahead. The real question is — how do we channel AI in ways that genuinely benefit everyone?”
As the dialogue deepened, inclusion quickly rose as a foundational concern. While global narratives around AI often focus on connectivity or device access, participants pointed to deeper structural exclusions. Language, gender, disability, and geography all intersect to shape who AI will serve — and who it will leave behind. One participant, gesturing toward the everyday realities of millions, asked, “How could a rickshawala use AI to navigate Dhaka traffic?” It wasn’t a literal question. It was a call to ensure relevance — to build systems that are accessible and meaningful to all, not just the privileged few.
Without investment in Bangla and regional language models, and without grounding AI tools in local pedagogies and lived realities, inclusion will remain a myth.
Power and policy were the next fracture lines. Bangladesh, participants noted, is often described as the “land of policies” — overflowing with documents but struggling with ownership and implementation. Many questioned who is writing these policies, and for whom. “Bangladesh has local expertise, but we have to use it. Foreigners cannot write our policies for us,” one participant asserted.
Finally, the conversation turned to readiness. A study by the Asian Development Bank (ADB) found that a majority of 1,253 primary education teachers in Bangladesh were eager to use AI for lesson planning and classroom materials. But this eagerness is accompanied by a plea: AI should support, not replace, the teacher.
The opportunity, many agreed, lies in expanding what we mean by readiness. It’s not enough to train coders or distribute hardware. Bangladesh must cultivate AI literacy across society — among students, teachers, parents, and policymakers alike. This literacy must foster critical thinking, ethical awareness, and cultural grounding.
Shakil Ahmed is an educator, storyteller, and futurist at Ridiculous Futures and is currently pursuing his PhD in Futures Studies at Tamkang University (Taiwan). Kazi Ferdous Pavel is working as Joint Director (Research) and Head of the Education Unit at the Institute of Informatics and Development (IID).