Paperwork over powerplay

One of my friends has been working with a government agency for the last three years on a project, bringing more than a decade of hard-earned experience to the table, as well as the rare distinction of having actually managed the kind of project they were struggling with. His company, of course, is only a few years old, having been started by him after three decades of corporate experience. The verdict? "Not enough years of company experience." It felt like showing up at a football match with Messi on your side, only to be told the team jersey was too fresh off the tailor's table. A chamber pulled the same stunt on a skill development bid, politely ignoring the fact that we had a world-class line-up of resources.

This isn't an evaluation; this is bureaucracy's favourite sport: worshipping forms while ignoring substance. They clutch "company age" the way a drowning man clutches a straw, never mind that the actual capacity to deliver is standing right in front of them. And of course, the excuse is always wrapped in polite jargon, "procedural requirements," "minimum experience criteria", which is just a sophisticated way of saying, "We'd already decided who to give it to." The humour is dark, but the truth is simple: in these circles, paperwork outranks performance, and logic has long been declared missing.

In one of these episodes, the corporate setup resembled something out of a satire: an MD who was a bureaucrat, a DMD from the defence forces, and an evaluation committee composed of teachers and more bureaucrats. None of them had ever managed a real business, but they were asked to decide who could deliver one. It was like calling in a cricket umpire, a music teacher, and a retired major to judge a cooking competition. They would check if the curry had proper file numbers, ensure the rice stood in attention, and then mark you down because you didn't follow the "approved syllabus." That's how proposals get evaluated here: by committees that know rules better than risks, and procedure better than profit.

When decision-making is guided by rigid checklists instead of real capability, the damage runs deeper than one rejected proposal. For a company, it means being locked out of opportunities despite proven expertise, leaving talent underutilised and morale damaged. For a nation, the cost is far greater. Innovation gets sidelined, fresh players are discouraged, and projects often land in the laps of those who "fit the form" rather than those who can actually deliver. Over time, this creates a culture where rules overshadow results, mediocrity becomes the norm, and the best minds either give up or look abroad. In short, the economy pays the price while the file pushers enjoy the illusion of "due process" or the comfort of saying "interests not served."

The problem of rigid, age-based eligibility can be overcome by shifting to best-value procurement, where capability, past performance, technical approach, and resources are given more weight than the incorporation date. Global best practices highlight this: the USTDA's Global Procurement Initiative promotes life-cycle cost and quality-based evaluation; the OECD recommends principles of transparency, fairness, and inclusivity; and the World Bank encourages "rated criteria" that reward technical merit and innovation. Committees should include sector experts, not just bureaucrats, while governments can support emerging firms through mentorship and policy reforms. Such approaches foster competition, reward real expertise, and ultimately deliver better outcomes for the nation.

However, the real tragedy, or comedy, depending on one's perspective, is that Bangladesh may be the only country where university professors hold more board seats and serve on national committees than business leaders themselves. From banks to telecom to chambers, there's always a professor sitting quietly in the corner, nodding wisely, sometimes without ever having run a business or balanced a payroll. Why are they there? Two possibilities. One: they are the hidden geniuses who understand every sector better than the practitioners. Two: they're simply there to stay quiet and provide the illusion of "neutral wisdom." Either way, the nation keeps confusing silence for strategy.

The writer is the president of the Institute of Cost and Management Accountants of Bangladesh and founder of BuildCon Consultancies Ltd