Inclusion and Exclusion of the Urban Poor in Dhaka: Power, Politics and Planning 1032539232, 9781032539232

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Series Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Table of Contents
List of Figures and Tables
Introduction: A Gray Line Between Inclusion and Exclusion
1 Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power
2 Who Governs the Dhaka City?
3 Housing: A Contested Avenue
4 Informalization of Formal Utility Access
5 The Right to the Services
6 People's Power and Politics: Cooperation, Compromise, Compliance, and Conflict
Toward a Conclusion
References
Index

Citation preview

“This rich comparative ethnography of two poor neighborhoods in Dhaka offers a new perspective on existing ideas of inclusion and exclusion, as well as of formality and informality. By reexamining these common binaries, the author is able to make an original contribution to the anthropology of urban poverty and citizenship.” Arjun Appadurai, Emeritus Professor of Media, Culture and Communication, New York University “Urban policy often claims to include the poor. What does this actually mean? In a work of meticulous ethnography in two Dhaka neighbourhoods – one an informal settlement and the other a resettlement housing project – Rasheda Rawnak Khan shows in graphic detail the contrasting patterns of community formation and political initiative. A clinical and yet moving document.” Partha Chatterjee, Professor Emeritus of Anthropology, Columbia University, New York

Inclusion and Exclusion of the Urban Poor in Dhaka

Inclusion and Exclusion of the Urban Poor in Dhaka explores how the inhabitants of poor neighborhoods in Dhaka, Bangladesh, gain inclusion in the city in the face of exclusion. The book considers how the people of poor neighborhoods in this city encounter the exclusionary forces of city development, and how their inclusionary attempts have influenced the design of the city. The book is presented in two parts: first, it explains how people in poor neighborhoods face exclusion because of the imbalance of power and the environment of politics. Second, it demonstrates how the existing exclusion of the urban poor affects their strategies to gain access to urban services through people’s power and politics. Focusing on the transdisciplinary field of urban anthropology, the chapters of the book uncover the urban forces, policies, and actions that facilitate urban politics. It also investigates the people who live in poor neighborhoods, who in the face of exclusion have included themselves in urban development planning and design by employing diverse strategies against adversarial forces in urban politics, e.g., accepting dominance, bargaining, or asserting control over their lives. This book will apply anthropological theory and methodology to frame an ethnographic inquiry into the inclusion and exclusion of the people within city development design, plans, and innovations. This book will encourage the reader to understand the politics of the state’s development projects and plans, and furthermore help to persuade city government, planners, and policymakers to focus on the people’s political power and agency that enables them to achieve inclusion. It will therefore be of interest to researchers and students of urban planning and development, urban geography, and urban anthropology, as well as planning professionals and policymakers. Above all, this book seeks to show that poverty, informal settlements and urban citizenship are not the same everywhere. They vary significantly between cities and within single cities.

Rasheda Rawnak Khan received a PhD in Anthropology from American University of USA with the Hall of Nation scholarship. She had been involved in doing a collaborative research on migration with the School of Global Studies at the University of Sussex. Currently, she teaches anthropology at Dhaka University, Bangladesh. Before joining Dhaka University, she taught anthropology at Jahangirnagar University. She is a regular columnist who writes for national dailies. Her political writings have largely been focused on the concepts of power, politics, urbanization, and governance. Besides her teaching career, she is a media personality. She is one of the directors of the film “Re-storying the Anacostia River,” which was selected for some prestigious film festivals in the USA.

Routledge Research in Planning and Urban Design

Routledge Research in Planning and Urban Design is a series of academic ­monographs for scholars working in these disciplines and the overlaps between them. Building on Routledge’s history of academic rigour and cutting-edge research, the series contributes to the rapidly expanding literature in all areas of planning and urban design. Lost Informal Housing in Istanbul Globalization at the Expense of Urban Culture F. Yurdanur Dulgeroglu-Yuksel China’s Railway Transformation History, Culture Changes and Urban Development Junjie Xi and Paco Mejias Villatoro City-making, Space and Spirituality A Community-Based Urban Praxis with Reflections from South Africa Stéphan de Beer Smart Cities in Poland Towards sustainability and a better quality of life? Izabela Jonek-Kowalska and Radosław Wolniak Participatory Spaces under Urban Capitalism Contesting the Boundaries of Democratic Practices Markus Holdo Inclusion and Exclusion of the Urban Poor in Dhaka Power, Politics, and Planning Rasheda Rawnak Khan

For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/ Routledge-Research-in-Planning-and-Urban-Design/book-series/RRPUD

Inclusion and Exclusion of the Urban Poor in Dhaka Power, Politics, and Planning

Rasheda Rawnak Khan

Designed cover image: Shabbir Rahman First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 Rasheda Rawnak Khan The right of Rasheda Rawnak Khan to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Khan, Rasheda, author. Title: Inclusion and exclusion of the urban poor in Dhaka : power, politics and planning / Rasheda Rawnak Khan. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2024. | Series: Routledge research in planning and urban design | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Identifiers: LCCN 2023020869 (print) | LCCN 2023020870 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032539232 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032539249 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003414315 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Urban poor—Bangladesh—Dhaka. | Poverty— Bangladesh—Dhaka. | Slums—Bangladesh—Dhaka. | Dhaka (Bangladesh)—Social conditions. | Dhaka (Bangladesh)— Economic conditions. Classification: LCC HV4140.6.D53 K53 2024 (print) | LCC HV4140.6.D53 (ebook) | DDC 362.5095492/2—dc23/eng/20230620 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023020869 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023020870 ISBN: 978-1-032-53923-2 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-53924-9 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-41431-5 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003414315 Typeset in Times New Roman by codeMantra

To my beloved late parents Md. Anisul Haque Khan, and Professor Zohara Anis, who passionately taught me that one of the main purposes of education should be to work for the impoverished.

Contents

List of figures and tables

xiii

Introduction: a Gray Line between Inclusion and Exclusion

1

1 Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power

22

2 Who Governs the Dhaka City?

49

3 Housing: a Contested Avenue

74

4 Informalization of Formal Utility Access

104

5 The Right to the Services

132

6 People’s Power and Politics: Cooperation, Compromise, Compliance, and Conflict

161



Toward a Conclusion

201

References Index

211 229

Figures and tables

Figures 0.1 BRP Map 0.2 BRP Housing Project 0.3 Korail Map 0.4 Korail 0.5 Political Structure of the Korail Neighborhood 3.1 BRP’s One-Room Flat with small Kitchen and Toilet 3.2 Korail’s Houses on the Gulshan Lake 3.3 Vertically Extended Houses in Korail 3.4 A Deed of BRP Flat 3.5 Holding the Boundary after a Fire: People Do Not Move from Their Home Boundaries, as They Are Afraid of Losing Their Space and Boundary 3.6 An Application for BRP Flat Ownership 3.7 Author at BRP Women 4.1 A Human Chain for Water and Sanitation 4.2 Water Pump in BRP 4.3 BRP’s (Left) and Korail’s (Right) Toilets 4.4 Korail’s Kitchen and Bathroom in a Same Place 4.5 Waste Collection and Dispose in Korail 4.6 Cooking Sources in Korail: LPG Gas in Mini-Hotel, and Clay Stoves in the Walkway 4.7 BRP Respondents’ Utility Bill Receipts 4.8 Informal Utility Connections: a Korail Kid Playing Next to the Risky Utility Lines 5.1 Women Run Businesses in Korail 5.2 At Korail Tea Stall 5.3 Child Labor in Korail 6.1 Typology of Local Leadership in Korail 6.2 Political Structure of the BRP 6.3 Election Campaign in Korail 6.4 Candidates’ Wives Were in Korail Election Campaign

7 9 11 13 16 75 76 79 86 88 89 99 106 110 113 115 116 124 126 128 152 153 154 163 167 175 176

xiv  Figures and tables 6.5 Mayor Distributes Relief During Covid-19 6.6 During a Fire the Then Mayor Came to Korail 6.7 Writing Posters During Protest in Korail: “Eviction Must Not Occur without Rehabilitation” 6.8 Korail’s Six Demands 6.9 A Poster against the BRP Management

179 181 190 192 196

Tables 0.1 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 5.1 5.2

List of Powerful Actors in BRP and Korail Steps in DSK Model to Get Water in Korail Sources of Water in both Neighborhoods Sources of Electricity in Both Neighborhoods Sources of Gas The Levels of Education of Respondents’ Children Types of Employment of the Respondents

14 108 109 120 125 143 151

Introduction A Gray Line between Inclusion and Exclusion

Anyone who has read the voluminous literature about poverty, inequality, ­crowding, and habitations in the global cities of the world will know that the very rich and the very poor live in close proximity in spite of the fact that their access to housing, health, education, and power is dramatically contrastive. From Mexico City to Bangkok, from Cairo to Djakarta, from Lagos to Kolkata, these “maximum” cities are also minimum cities for 50–70% of their citizens. The poor in these cities are packed into areas which are called favelas, jhopdis, juggis, bastis, al’ahya’ alfaqira, and similar names, all of which are usually translated as “slum”. There are now hundreds of novels, films, and scholarly monographs which stress the distance between dreams and reality in these places. Almost all these images and narratives, whether they come from the United Nations or from movies like “Slumdog Millionaire”, show that citizenship in cities is not equally distributed. My book seeks to add some nuances to this set of global stereotypes about urban poverty in the age of globalization. I do so by looking closely at the social order of two poor neighborhoods in Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh. This comparison is intended to show that even two very poor neighborhoods can offer two very different lenses into one city, one state, and one larger social system. To demonstrate this difference, I focus on the complex relations between the processes of “inclusion” and “exclusion”, which are too often seen as mirror images of one another. I argue that they have different dynamics which converge in a broader politics of recognition and redistribution. The close study of the divergent maps of inclusion and exclusion lead me to other important distinctions between the life chances and the life strategies of two communities of urban poor people who live in one complex Asian city. In this sense, my book can be read as a critique of the tendency to see the urban poor of the world as a kind of demographic lump or essence, wherever they exist. Seeing the variety of the life worlds of poor citizens is a key step towards finding realistic and locally informed political solutions for the challenges of urban poverty.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003414315-1

2 Introduction The Dhaka Backdrop My experience of city life has led me to think of these various binaries as entangled rather than antagonistic. This idea was seeded in my childhood when I was a seventh grader. On a foggy winter morning, my mother, a professor, and a social worker, took me to a poor neighborhood in Cumilla, where I was brought up to show how miserable life the children were leading to in the poor neighborhoods. While the images of children’s suffering were leaving deep images of deprivation in my young heart, at the moment of leaving that neighborhood, my mother again showed and explained how their parents struggle against poverty to meet their needs and able to survive in this city. Ever since I began to study anthropology, I wanted to understand the inequalities of city life, which have haunted me since that day of my childhood. I was interested in exclusion in city life, where some residents have access to the benefits of urban life, and others do not. When I later commuted to Dhaka University, seeing the street sellers rushing to vehicles and selling products and the rhythm of rickshaw pullers driving fast in the face of police obstruction inspired me to think about the power and politics in city life as well. These scenes coincided with my mother’s later observations, where she talked about how the people of poor neighborhoods struggled to survive in the city. As I witnessed people’s everyday struggles, their confrontations, compromises, and connivance with police and other powerful actors, I began to wish to learn more about their lives and their struggle against the exclusionary behavior of more powerful urban actors. I became interested in discovering how the people in poor neighborhoods were able to claim entitlements, participate in party politics, maintain networks with powerful urban actors, create and control local leadership, and involve themselves in the city’s political spheres. Dhaka, the capital city of Bangladesh, is rapidly growing, like many cities across the world. Due to rapid urbanization, Dhaka faces numerous challenges to ensuring a quality urban life to its citizens, especially those who live in poor neighborhoods. Once in Gulshan, an elite neighborhood of the city, I headed off from the main street of Gulshan avenue, and noticed that someone inside was drinking a cup of coffee worth 400 taka (US$3.74) while sitting in a glass-enclosed coffee shop, whereas on the outside someone was accused by a security guard for touching the sophisticated, beautiful and clean glass of that cafe. If someone walks along the street for a while, one can reveal the duality of the city easily. Dhaka, though it is supposed to be a dwelling for all, is actually ridden with inequality and duality. Residents in the poor neighborhoods do not receive priority regarding city entitlements, whereas the elite can and do enjoy a higher quality of life. This results in a city where the elite live in state-of-the-art modern buildings, while people in poor neighborhoods do not even have the right to legal housing. People flock to informal irregular neighborhoods hoping to find affordable housing since they cannot even imagine living in modern high-rises. The elite, academics, and policymakers refer to these poor neighborhoods as “slums,” through which a class-bifurcated city develops. The people of these “slums” are portrayed as criminals, drug-addicts, prostitutes, vagabonds, and

Introduction  3 lethargic. The residents of these “slums” are also blamed for making the city dirty and polluted, although the city authorities are indifferent in providing services to improve the environment in these poor neighborhoods. It is clear that inclusion is one of the problems linked to rapid urban growth. To understand quality of life, I refer to inclusion in entitlements such as housing, water, sanitation, waste management, electricity, cooking gas, health, education, and employment. Exclusion refers to when people face challenges to gain these urban entitlements. I also look at the role of people in the city’s socio-economic and political life, especially people’s power of political participation. Researchers and policymakers have done much research on how to “include” the urban poor. The objective of this study is not to find out the reasons why and how the state and other elite urban actors intend to include the poor people in the city. The purpose of this book, though not the only one, to look at the politics involved in this process of their inclusion. Rather, this book is particularly interested in exploring how people achieve inclusion on their own, and at the same time, it seeks to see how obstacles exclude them and limit inclusion. Also it illuminates people’s political strategies through which they gain inclusion in the city’s social, economic, and political spheres. I have attempted to pull together ideas of inclusion and exclusion to avoid the conventional notion of the simple dichotomy between these two. There is clearly a risk of exaggerating the binary opposition of inclusion and exclusion, and of some other dualisms connected with it. I was bothered by the simple-minded understandings of inclusion and exclusion in the literature and the popular press. Wilson (2011) explored a case study of South Africa in which, under court supervision, poor people have been successfully and consensually accommodated in safe, clean, and sustainable housing; however, he did not make clear about their long-term engagement strategies for being adequately included in planning processes. Many more questions are be hidden within this one, for example, for how long the inclusion was sustained, whether it was achieved with any objective in mind, how much that objective was actually fulfilled, whether everyone was able to be included regardless of class, caste, religion, and age. Ekdale (2014) showed that the way Kenya’s journalists presented the Kibera neighborhood’s problems and discussed solutions for the inclusion in the press was different from the reality. As in the South African case, the situation of Kibera seemed more diverse than presented. In this book, I hypothesize that inclusion is not a simple concept, and a single indicator cannot determine whether people are included or not. For example, many scholars have argued that powerful actors such as NGO programs have contributed to fostering equity, empowering the powerless poor, reducing social exclusion, and enabling them to gain inclusion in the city (Baser and Hasnath Syed 2023; Taufiq 2021). This book argues that exclusion does not always make people powerless, rather in many cases it makes poor people strategic and political agents to gain inclusion. This book challenges this one-dimensional understanding of inclusion and exclusion. It argues that inclusion in one aspect does not necessarily mean being included in others. Understanding the juxtaposition of inclusion and exclusion is

4 Introduction important because it highlights the complexity and embeddedness of the communities’ reality. When we think of inclusion and exclusion as binary opposites, we may overlook the ways in which these processes intersect and interact in the lives of poor neighborhood community. By recognizing the complexity, entanglement and embeddedness of inclusion and exclusion, researchers can develop more concrete approaches to addressing urban poor communities and their livelihood strategies. This book focuses on how people are simultaneously included and excluded from the entitlements of urban life and growth. For example, a poor community may be included in the economic system through informal business and low-wage jobs, however, excluded from political power or city’s cultural activities. This concern led me to the second theme of this study: power and the political actions of the people, the extent to which the poor have access to power, and whether they can use that power to change their lives and achieve inclusion. I also focus on the inclusion/exclusion contrast as one example of the many simple contrasts that obscure the rich heterogeneity of poor urban neighborhoods. Given the derogatory stereotypes associated with the words slum or squatters, I will call these places settlements or neighborhoods. First, I have found that the respondents themselves were hesitant to introduce themselves as “slum dwellers” and blamed researchers, elite residents, and the media for the negative representation. Second, the city’s powerful actors use the term “slum” as a synonym for an informal neighborhood, which creates misconceptions about human capability and power. Though slums are considered illegal, and residents are considered vulnerable, they are tolerated and maintained because of the role they play in reproducing the legitimacy of the state and the political parties in power. I have focused on the capability and power of residents to create social and political relations and networks, to reduce exclusion and gain inclusion. Researchers have discussed the power of the elite that lies within this nomenclature. Many have explained how informal settlements became a metaphor for socio-economic divisions of the city (Bertuzzo 2016; Gilbert 2007; Mayne 2017; Perlman 2005). The terminology leads to negative perceptions of these poor neighborhoods, and to stereotyped images of the poor as powerless, apathetic, deprived, and helpless people. These stereotypes ignore the dynamic and productive nature of residents in those areas. In this book, I have deliberately used the term “neighborhoods and settlements” instead of “slums.” I have also consciously used the terms “poor and informal neighborhoods” in this study to counteract the negative connotations of these words. This book is concerned to provide a contribution to the anthropological theory of “inclusion” with ethnographic description. People’s everyday struggles, actions, and strategies motivated me to question how residents in poor neighborhoods achieved inclusion in terms of entitlements, and the city’s overall political sphere. Since the main aim of this book was to understand inclusion in multiple aspects of city life, I wanted to know whether inclusion in one sector increases the possibility of inclusion in other sectors. This book is an elaboration of a theme, which explores the forms of power and political strategies of the people.

Introduction  5 Two Contrasting Neighborhoods, Two Perspectives The neighborhoods featured as case studies in this book are BRP, a formal housing project, which has been produced by the government of Bangladesh, and Korail, an informal settlement that occupy a space of adjacent to the most elite neighborhood of Dhaka city; however, has been attacked several times by the state apparatus due to its illegal status. Here these two neighborhoods were not only the locations positioning relations between actors in time and space but were also the fields where as an anthropological researcher, I participated in knowledge production about the conceptual understanding of inclusion and exclusion, city’s plan and policy, and consequently became part of the social reality (Giddens 1998). This book is about how different groups in two communities occupy urban space, make the city their home, and control over their lives through diverse political actions and strategies. The prior literature throughout the past has almost always treated the Korail as if they were extremely poor, vulnerable, lacking access to utilities and services, where inclusion in this city is only possible through the inclusionary initiatives by the state and development agencies such as INGOs and NGOs. On the other hand, there were hardly any ethnographic research works on the BRP residents’ socio-economic and political aspects, the ones that exist were mostly about how BRP became a failed housing project (Begum et al. 2018; Hussain et al. 2015; Kabir 2013). Some scholars have blamed the absence of the government for this (Begum et al. 2018), while others have blamed the corruption of a dishonest group of bureaucrats of the Land Ministry and North South Property Development Limited (NSPDL) (Hussain et al. 2015). A question might arise about why I chose these two neighborhoods in the midst of many other poor neighborhoods in Dhaka. Since my intention was to uncover different types and levels of inclusion and exclusion, I chose two contrasting settlements to clarify the variances. Also, there is only one state-produced housing project within the Dhaka metropolitan city; therefore, I chose one formal and another informal neighborhood to balance my understanding. Also, these two neighborhoods could be expected to have different levels and kinds of inclusion and exclusion, for three reasons: first, the nature of tenure security in these two neighborhoods, where the informal residents of Korail likely face more exclusion. Second, if residents of the two neighborhoods have different levels and kinds of inclusion, it is helpful to consider whether they also have different relationships among themselves and with more powerful elite actors. Third, if they do have different political strategies and actions in the two neighborhoods, it would be useful to understand how their strategies lead to more inclusion. Emphasizing these aspects, I identified two contrastive neighborhood profiles and structures of the neighborhoods discussed in this book. For example, legality itself, the basic difference between them, indicates different patterns and levels of inclusion. At a gross level of generalization, BRP is a state-produced housing project where people involved in lower professions were able to buy apartments at low cost as part of the government’s political promise. The Korail, on the other hand, occupies the heart of the city (land price

6 Introduction is higher than in other places of the city) where the low-income people choose to migrate from the village to gain jobs in the elite neighborhoods and move to their workplaces easily. This book analyzes, through a comparative study, whether the residents’ neighborhoods were able to develop forms of inclusion and political engagement among themselves and with other powerful actors. In light of the theoretical understandings of the concepts of inclusion and exclusion, which will be discussed in Chapter 1, this book endeavors to comprehend whether the residents of poor neighborhoods were able to become included in the face of exclusion and explore the nature of the levels of inclusion among different inhabitants. BRP: a Government-Sponsored Housing Project

The government created a low-cost housing project officially known as the BRP. The primary objective of this project was to provide a permanent home to the city’s underprivileged people who used to live in scattered informal neighborhoods, especially to relocate the city’s homeless. In the 1960s, a few resettlement areas in peripheral neighborhoods in Dhaka had been considered for the creation of resettlement housing as per Dhaka’s master plan. These resettlement projects were not entirely successful for many reasons, including the fact that they did not accommodate the demand for affordable housing for the urban poor (Mohit 2012; Haque 2007; Choguill 1987). Later, another attempt in 1975 to provide legalized housing areas for the urban poor in Bhashantek area was also not effective. The project was neither affordable nor sustainable (Choguill 1987). Since then, different governments have conceptualized resettlement projects within Dhaka, but with little action. Many hoped that the new BRP housing project would be more successful. Fully funded by the government of Bangladesh, it prompted local and state actors to engage with urban rehousing. The construction work was to be carried out under the full control of the government, so that the poor would receive housing. The “beneficiaries” were meant to be relocatees from the informal neighborhoods and lower-income groups such as low-level staff of government and private offices, although, as will be seen, the reality was different. Like the previous 1975 effort, it also failed to resettle the urban poor (Kabir 2013; Mohit 2012). The Ministry of Land, which was given the responsibility to implement this project, chose part of the government land where the Bhashantek informal neighborhood housed more than 80,000 people. Around 3,300 families were evicted from a portion of Bhashantek without any relocation or compensation to begin the BRP housing project in 2003. On 29 September 2003, the Land Ministry signed an agreement with a private development company, the NSPDL, to build the housing project and fixed the end date of the project in December 2009. The government provided 47.90 acres (2,086,524 sq ft) of land, and NSPDL was to bear the construction cost. However, by 2014, only 18 of the planned 111 buildings were completed (Figure 0.1).

Introduction  7

Figure 0.1  BRP Map Source: Google Map

It is not clear how many evictees from the existing settlement of Bhashantek were allotted flats in BRP. More than 1,200 households from the Bhashantek were in the process of making deposits to NSPDL for flats. However, most did not receive flats as the NSPDL sold the flats at higher prices to well-off clients. The NSPDL was blamed, because it sold flats at higher prices than the fixed government rate. Moreover, some people who got allotment were forced to sell them due to lack of affordability. The NSPDL did not maintain the formal process or get approval from the ministry for the list of recipients, according to the rules. Although the authorities promised that evictees would be prioritized, the reality was different. Respondents said that among these 1,056 apartments, 500 were sold to well-off families and expatriates who had a relationship with the NSPDL officials or with bureaucrats, or local influential leaders, and the rest of the apartments were sold to affluent people. These apartment owners later rented out the flats to the Bhashantek evictees and other lower-income tenants such as garment workers, drivers, and low-level staff of offices. These lower-income people rented rather than bought the flats in BRP. During fieldwork, I found that apart from a few local leaders of Bhashantek, only three evictees as owners out of 1,056 apartments considered themselves to be poor. Some people who submitted deposits have not yet received their apartments; however, they lived in the project as tenants and continued the legal battle to receive their flats, which I will discuss in Chapter 6. In 1998, the AL government took the initiative to build a resettlement project in Mirpur, a neighborhood in Dhaka. The Executive Committee of the National Economic Council approved the BRP project in May 1998; work was to commence in

8 Introduction July 1998 and be completed by June 2003. The Ministry of Land (MOL) was given the responsibility to implement this project. In 1998, when the MOL took the initiative to evict the settlers, the settlers created obstacles, organized themselves for demonstrations, and forced the authorities to move back. The project did not begin at the planned time due to political and bureaucratic complexity. In 2001, after the national elections, the Bangladesh National Party (BNP) came to power and, after two years, in 2003, the BNP government adopted the BRP project. On 12 January 2004, the NSPDL received the approval of RAJUK to begin construction. It was laborious to evict a part of the Bhashantek informal neighborhood, which had been established before Bangladeshi independence. This time, when the MOL and NSPDL tried to evict the inhabitants of Bhashantek, they reframed the project as an accommodation for the evictees. Nonetheless, the residents remained opposed to the eviction and new construction, and prevented authorities from commencing the construction. When the project faced strong protests from the local inhabitants, the Land Ministry and NSPDL promised the settlers that they would receive the highest priority for new flats in BRP. A series of meetings was held with the concerned authorities in the face of demonstration. With the support of local leaders and Members of Parliament, both the Land Ministry and NSPDL finally succeeded in convincing some influential house owners and local leaders to move. The project was intended to be completed by the NSPDL; however, at one stage, the NSPDL took control of all affairs, including flat pricing and distribution. Therefore, the reality of the project came to be far removed from the government’s objective of solving the housing problems of the poor. The project plan included approximately 111 buildings, which would accommodate 13,248 families. Of these, 7,776 were for residents of the informal neighborhoods, and 5,472 flats were for low-income earners. In October 2010, the MOL cancelled the contract to NSPDL due to corruption, irregularities, and delays in execution. At this time, the NSPDL had only built ten buildings instead of 111. These ten buildings included two buildings with 288 small flats (144 flats in each) and eight buildings with 768 larger flats (96 flats in each). The NSPDL pocketed 300,000,000 taka1 (US$2,808,199.9438) in additional profits by selling 1,056 flats in the buildings to well-off families at higher prices (Dhaka Tribune 2017). The NSPDL did not maintain the formal process or get approval from the ministry for the list of recipients allotted as per the rules; rather, it advertised abroad for the sale of flats. Although the authorities promised that evictees would be prioritized, the reality was different; however, most did not receive flats as the NSPDL had sold them at higher prices to well-off clients. There is controversy over how many evictees were allotted flats in BRP. The NSPDL chief said that there were a significant number of evictees who received flats though they could not buy them due to poverty. On the other hand, respondents said that only 18 flats were sold to residents of the Bhashantek; among them were four local leaders and three influential house owners. No ordinary resident received a flat in this project, although many are now renting. According to the MOL bureaucrat, the price was fixed by calculating the construction and ancillary

Introduction  9 costs. He said that if those who could not afford flats at such a low price, they would not survive in this project later. I cross-checked this information with both NSPDL and BRP chiefs. It was clear from their interviews that the flat was priced for those who could afford to buy a flat in installments and could live here permanently while maintaining a minimum living standard (Figure 0.2). Moreover, the NSPDL sold flats at higher prices than the fixed government rate US$1,778.52 or more likely 190,000 taka for smaller flats, and US$3,276.23 or more likely 350,000 taka for larger flats). Even then, many of those who have struggled to pay their deposits have not received flats. In many cases, the NSPDL authority denied them because they did not fill in the application properly, or they did not deposit the money on time, or the applicant was incapable of showing the appropriate residence form. After filing a case against the NSPDL, some of the applicants who deposited money but did not receive a flat finally got one. Among them, some were forced to sell their flats due to lack of affordability. In the wake of these allegations, the government cancelled the contract with the NSPDL, and full control of the project was brought under the Land Ministry. The Ministry would carry out an investigation and prepare a list of beneficiaries who claimed that they submitted a deposit but did not get the flats, and the National Housing Authority would allot flats according to the list. Numerous BRP tenants who did not receive flats after depositing money filed a case against the NSPDL. Two types of petitioners were found. Those who were evicted at the time of the construction of the BRP but did not receive the flat filed one case, and those who deposited money but did not receive a flat filed another case. In the face of the court cases, the Ministry decided that those who had deposited money would receive flats in the new building during the 3rd phase.

Figure 0.2  BRP Housing Project Source: Fieldwork

10 Introduction In addition, an ordinance was passed that said that those who had made deposits for flats must be given them by 30 June 2013. By 2014, only 18 of the planned 111 buildings were completed. Altogether, 16% of the project work was completed. In March 2015, the MOL proposed constructing 12 more buildings, three smaller buildings (432 flats), and nine larger buildings (864 flats). The senior Secretary accepted this on 11 August 2015. This third phase was not yet initiated even in 2021. Korail: an Informal Neighborhood

The Korail neighborhood is located in the heart of Dhaka’s city center and is the largest informal neighborhood in Dhaka (Angeles et al. 2009), both in terms of area (90 acres or 3,920,539 sq ft) and population, with more than 175,000 inhabitants (Gruebner et al. 2014). This neighborhood is adjacent to the Gulshan-Banani Lake, an important landmark in central Dhaka; it can be accessed by multiple roads and by water (Figure 0.3). The three well-known adjacent neighborhoods of Gulshan, Banani, and Mohakhali have much affluent residential housing and are home to diplomats and many embassies. People say that the price for land in these residential areas is the highest in the city. Adjacent to these affluent areas, Korail’s location is very desirable for commercial purposes. Because of its appealing position, important property owners have created new land areas by dumping garbage in the lake and have occasionally invaded portions of the neighborhood. As a result, state officials frequently evict people who build houses and rent them out, which I will discuss in Chapter 6. Three state organizations own the land on which Korail sits: the Public Works Department, the MOL, and the Ministry of Science and Technology. Korail became popular for its low-cost, informal housing, especially after 1985, when garment factories began to open in Dhaka. The state Department of Telegraph and Telephone (T&T) had been allocated approximately 170 acres (7,405,200 sq ft) of land. The T&T occupied approximately 80 acres for its offices, residential housing for officials, and other infrastructure such as schools, college, and mosque. The rest of the 90 acres remained unoccupied. Migrants began building informal housing on these 90 unoccupied acres. Although two other government agencies (Public Works Department and Ministry of Science and Technology) were given this land to build facilities, the construction never began as settlers were living in the area. Many new inhabitants became house owners by purchasing them from original occupiers of the land. Later, they sold them to other inhabitants; the land and housing came without any legal documents or land registration papers. Many buildings have been built over time in Korail that were formerly tin-shed houses, although the legal status of those buildings and the legal position of the owners and occupants were often complex and unclear. Some of the house owners and the original occupiers became the local leaders of the neighborhood. Occupying land in Korail requires a form of political engagement that helps them to acquire an identity as local residents on the one hand, and to become political agents on the other. There is factionalism among the influential leaders about who will have more influence in the politics of this area and who will occupy the land by using this influence. Also, as they often feel overlooked by the government, they build

Introduction  11 social and political networks with powerful actors of the city to call attention to their residential environment. Due to the lack of enforcement in the case of utilities and city entitlements, legal status and activities become interwoven with illegal ones. There are many different accounts of how and when the Korail informal neighborhood started. I have relied upon the information provided by this study’s respondents. In about 1961, people began to migrate to this neighborhood from rural villages during the Pakistani regime. According to the respondents, T&T colony inhabitants first occupied this neighborhood and began building houses to rent out to migrants. They colluded with influential political leaders (locally known as big brothers or mastaans) from adjacent neighborhoods. Day by day, the house owners and local leaders increased their incomes and influence by grabbing lands in the neighborhood and renting to poor migrants. Because the Korail neighborhood was in the middle of the city with close proximity to industry, it became a favorable living option. As noted, Korail now has more than 175,000 inhabitants.

Figure 0.3  Korail Map Source: Google Map

12 Introduction Korail neighborhood is locally known by different names, including Korail Bosti, Kuril Bosti, T&T colony Bosti, Gulshan-Bonani Bosti, and Mohakhali Bosti, although among them, Korail Bosti is the best known (Figure 0.4). The majority of the Korail houses are divided into individual rooms that entire families rent. These rooms are less than 70 square feet. Influential house owners often allocate more space for themselves, especially those owners who live there. Initially, these houses would have had courtyards, but many of them have been built up, and there is almost no outside area. The house owners of Korail design and build their own houses although they do not have any professional experience. Often the competition for facilities drives people to bathe in open areas or on the road and to defecate in open spaces. Most houses did not have individual kitchens or toilets; however, a very few influential house owners arranged for a separate kitchen and toilet for themselves. Sometimes, families of more than ten people occupied a single room. In these dwellings, multiple families usually shared a common kitchen, a latrine, and shower facilities. The social norm is that the head of the household will always be male, regardless of whoever earns the highest income in the family. The exception is when there is no surviving male member; then the head of the household will be a female. In Korail, there were many female-headed households whose husbands have either died or left; however, in BRP, it was rare to find femaleheaded households. Social mobility of female members was active in both places; however, Korail women were more associated with the market economy than in BRP. To understand the socio-economic and political activities of these two areas, now I will discuss the interactions of the residents of the two neighborhoods with different powerful actors, including national and local leaders, bureaucrats, police, NGOs, CBOs, and civil society. In Korail, they construct their own socio-economic and political environment, whereas BRP residents do not have that freedom to make their own setting due to the bureaucratic intervention. The following discussion presents the background information on Bazaar, a social space where we can see the interplay of social, economic, and political engagements and interactions in the two neighborhoods. Bazaar: a Place for Socio-cultural and Political-Economic Exchange

The bazaars are the most noteworthy features of the Korail neighborhood. Korail is split into three major areas. Each is locally known by the name of its major m ­ arket: Jamai Bazaar, Bou Bazaar, Mossharrof Bazaar (named after a local leader). The Jamai Bazaar to the North and Bou Bazaar to the South bisect Korail, with a road between them. Both the Jamai and Bou Bazaars were created at Korail’s inception, but the Mossharrof Bazaar is relatively new. The latter was constructed at a corner of the neighborhood far from the other two. I heard tales about the naming of these bazaars. Many believed that the first settlers came solo after leaving their families behind. The Bou Bazaar (Bride’s Bazaar), therefore, was named to honor the memory of their wives. Some people claimed that since the Bou Bazaar brimmed with women, men had to build a bazaar of their own, which was the Jamai Bazaar (Groom’s Bazaar). There is a consensus, however, about the naming of the

Introduction  13

Figure 0.4  Korail Source: Fieldwork

Mossharrof Bazaar. It concerned a migrant who became a muscleman for political leaders, named Mossharrof. He was an emerging and energetic local leader; however, he grew too powerful, and the godfathers feared that he would surpass them. One day he was killed, but his name remains enshrined in this bazaar. The bazaar is a socio-economic and political place where many inhabitants of Korail are involved in informal businesses and where most of the essential sociopolitical decisions are made. These bazaars cover a large part of Korail’s economic activities. Many of the respondents who have shops in Korail bazaars said that their families lived by selling products there. Vendors sell vegetables, fish, meat, fruits, cooking utensils, clothes, shoes, tailoring, electronics, groceries, mechanical goods, and computers. Every item for people’s daily life is available here. There are also video game shops and cyber cafes where young people play video games and browse the internet. Various organizations, including NGO offices, madrasas, and coaching centers can be seen in the bazaars. There are many small restaurants and teashops here run by men and women. Korail’s bazaars are also considered a place to gather for leisure and political activities. Since all party offices are located here, area political activities and programs are market-centric. After returning from work in the evening, many party workers go to the party office to chat with others or meet local leaders. If there is a political program, people gather at the party offices in the bazaars. Before a big political program, meeting, or rally, the party offices are crowded. If there are any major conflicts or family feuds between residents, measures to settle them are taken in the bazaar areas. Judicial arbitration activities are conducted there in the presence of community leaders. Migrants in Korail have rural home-based committees and cooperatives, primarily situated in the bazaars; their activities and meetings

14 Introduction are held here. Residents, especially men, drink tea and talk while watching TV in teashops and small restaurants from evening until late at night. In contrast, BRP has no such economic and social center. Although BRP originally had plans to build a shopping mall, there was not even a small shop within the BRP complex during the time of fieldwork. The shopping mall was far away in the Bhashantek Bazaar. As a result, residents go outside BRP to buy daily necessities. Most men go to a nearby bazaar outside BRP to hang out in the tea stalls. They also undertake informal political actions here. Given the restrictions of the housing project, people organized politically outside the complex, mainly in the same bazaar, which I describe in Chapter 6. There is a difference between the political spheres of the two neighborhoods. Though the BRP inhabitants do not live in an informal neighborhood like Korail, BRP possesses a political structure. As an administrative entity controls BRP, there are political practices and conflicts regarding the power of its superintendent. For example, the politics of BRP are primarily concerned with project management. In contrast, the politics of Korail mainly consolidate the position of the residents within the city or are used to get utilities and services through political networks. In BRP, after the cancellation of the government’s contract with NSPDL, the MOL set up an office inside the BRP compound to manage it; this is called simply the project office. BRP residents said there were three major groups, each of which wanted to control the administration and the future project construction. These are the BRP office chief, a local political gang known as Mullah Bahini, and the former private developer, the NSPDL. The BRP does not directly attract the interest of the external forces that play a key role in Korail, including DNCC officials, ward commissioners, informal service providers, big brothers from adjacent neighborhoods, and NGOs. Thus, Korail residents are more engaged with party politics than the BRP residents, which does not have the same organization of local leaders. Those who control or form the informal neighborhoods must have direct affiliation with the ruling party. Therefore, powerful house owners are usually affiliated with the ruling political parties. There are three major parties: the Awami League (AL), presently in power, the BNP, and the Jatio Party (JP). Although they usually make alliances with the ruling party, whether it is the AL or BNP, the political activities of General Ershad’s JP in Korail are quite popular. Respondents said that since General Ershad had played a role in the development of Korail during his pre1990 presidency, some JP workers became involved in active politics during the Table 0.1  List of Powerful Actors in BRP and Korail Name

Powerful Actors

BRP

BRP project office, NSPDL, Mullah Bahini leaders, Bhashantek Thana police House owners, informal service providers, local political leaders, three prominent committee leaders, NGO officials, CBO leaders, police

Korail

Source: Fieldwork

Introduction  15 election period. General Ershad was the founder of the Korail school, and he had regular contact with the Korail school. During my fieldwork, I witnessed General Ershad visit this school and supervise school activities. These three parties each have party offices in the Korail bazaars. An alliance with the ruling party is useful so that the government party elite can facilitate service and utility supply to the informal neighborhoods. Therefore, affiliation with the government party has led to significant shifts in local power relations in Korail, which I will explore in Chapter 6. Each party has created organizing committees in different areas to conduct their activities. This affiliation has been more nourished since 1994, when local government elections began, which I will discuss in Chapter 2. The Korail-based committees control the neighborhood’s local politics, and many residents actively engage in government party politics (Table 0.1). Workers and local leaders often have tea, hang out, and conduct political discussions in the early evening. I noticed more workers in the ruling party office than in the offices of the other two parties. Moreover, there are many committees of the governing AL party, whereas the other two parties only have one committee, and the number of members is meager. When the BNP was in power, respondents reported that the BNP had many committees. Although the left-wing parties such as Jatio Sromik dol (National Labor Federation) have alliances with the urban poor in some informal neighborhoods or have declared solidarity with their demands, they have not organized activities in the same structured way. Most of the influential local leaders in Korail are associated with the party presently in power. For example, among the ten influential residents I interviewed, eight respondents were involved in AL politics. Among the other two, one was in the JP and the other was a BNP leader, whom I had purposely selected, although none of them were active in party activities. Most individuals favor the government party because they know that if they do not support the government party directly or indirectly, it would be a challenge to gain advantages. When a new government is elected, many local leaders and residents change their political party, but some retain the earlier party affiliation, even though their social and political power diminishes. However, the local leaders said that the existence of their neighborhood was threatened if they were not affiliated with the government party. Though the political leaders of different parties in Bangladesh are usually political rivals, Korail’s scenario is different. Here, the leaders are united against the state’s urban development plan to demolish the neighborhood. In contrast, those who have no affiliation or are an out-of-power party are considered disconnected. Local leaders also manage this neighborhood. They ensure the provision of services, and they act as a primary middleman between formal service providers and the residents. A few informal service providers created a business syndicate that connected electricity to houses through illegal pirate hook-ups. These linemen then took advantage of other inhabitants by charging high costs for this electricity. There are also informal means to connect water and gas. The informal service providers often get these opportunities through their affiliations with national leaders and government officials.

16 Introduction

Figure 0.5  Political Structure of the Korail Neighborhood Source: Fieldwork

There are three committees important in Korail’s political decisions. They are the Korail AL Committee (the ruling party subcommittee), the Korail Development Committee, mainly comprising community leaders, and the Korail Community Policing Committee, whose responsibility is to ensure the safety of Korail (Figure 0.5). Influential local leaders and house owners are the heads and members of these three committees. Korail is primarily governed by the decisions and activities of these committees. The influential members of these committees are gatekeepers who maintain the relationship between robust external networks and the local community. They influence who will get the benefits of DNCC and community development activities and maintain liaison with formal agencies and NGOs. These committees coordinate the overall security of the neighborhood, its development activities, political stability, social justice, and punishment. There are also two other committees with a more limited impact: the Bazaar Somiti (market association) and the Bou Bazaar Cooperative. The Bazaar Somiti was very influential during the previous BNP government. Although the current party leaders replaced the previous leaders, the influence of this committee is less than before. Although the opposition leaders have no role now, the government party leaders are at odds with each other over control of the Korail neighborhood, which I will explore more in Chapter 6. These conflicts often create the context for fires, factions, and fights. Presence of NGOs and CBOs

Though many NGOs entered informal neighborhoods through micro-credit programs, some have extended their activities. According to the survey data, more than 50 NGOs work in Korail for the development of the residents; a few NGOs have water and sanitation projects, some have educational and academic programs for children while others deliver health services. For example, in Korail, the residents have organized a formal water supply system registered with the DWASA. Many NGOs run education and health projects that address child literacy, maternal, neonatal, and child health. There are also NGO health campaigns about vaccinations, reproductive health, malnutrition, and family planning, carried out in collaboration

Introduction  17 with the Ministry of Health. Some NGOs provide legal aid for residents, especially for women and children. Numerous programs are funded by major ­international donor agencies. In Korail, there are several community-based organizations (CBOs) related to service provision. Respondents said that there are two types of CBOs: NGO-­ initiated CBOs and community-initiated CBOs, which are dominated by local leadership and ruling party-political leaders. One of the community-initiated CBOs is the “Korail Settlement Development Committee,” which operates as a neighborhood resident collective. This committee was formed in the presence of DNCC officials, DMP officials, and political leaders. Many respondents said that when they used to go to the state offices, they were asked to come with a formal local authoritative committee or CBO to negotiate with the officials. Therefore, influential house owners, local leaders, and community members themselves decided to build a formal platform to work with state officials. I will discuss this committee in more detail in Chapter 6. However, besides political CBOs, there were few influential NGO-initiated CBOs in Korail. These CBOs communicate, negotiate, and officially work on behalf of the Korail residents with the local government, NGOs, and other agencies. As an administrative entity controls BRP, the project office did not allow any NGOs to provide services in BRP; however, some informants had relations with NGOs in the Bhashantek informal neighborhood. A part of Bhashantek was not evicted, and an extended version of the informal neighborhood has been built in the vacant space next to it. This neighborhood has NGOs and other organizations with whom many BRP residents still have relations. Sometimes, they continued these relationships and took out loans from them. Nor does BRP have cooperative societies or rural home-based organizations, but some residents maintain their involvement with the previous neighborhood organizations. The BRP flat owners association used to work likes a CBO, but it has almost disappeared in the face of internal politics, a process which will be explained in Chapter 6. Urban Ethnography and Ethnographic Design The data of this book was originally obtained over the course of more than 15  months of fieldwork between 2017 and 2018, later updated in 2022, and enhanced with more recent sources. The primary ethnographic research question of this book concerns how political inclusion and exclusion affect the patterns of interaction between poor neighborhood residents and the authorities in Dhaka city. To explore inclusion and exclusion, I asked to what extent city authorities considered the urban poor as citizens, to what extent they were integrated into the economic, social, and political life of the city, to what extent they had access to housing, basic utilities, and services. How do they manage housing in this city? What do the urban poor do when state services are limited? Do they have alternative strategies

18 Introduction to get housing, utilities, and services, and manage their lives to gain inclusion in the city? Can housing inclusion increase the assurance of more inclusion? Or, if people get access to utilities, can they expect that everything else will follow? Do they have formal and informal means to interact with powerful actors to obtain utilities and services? What barriers do they experience because of the lack of formal utilities and services? Is informality itself excluding? The second issue of this study is to learn about the political power and participation of the people. The term “political” refers to individual and communal practices based on interest and power. By “political power,” I refer to the capacity of the people to employ political strategies and actions, e.g., organizing protests, controlling neighborhoods, engaging in party politics, networking with central political leaders, campaigning, and voting. Do these residents possess political power? If they do, what types of power they have? Do they participate in party politics? Do they vote and engage in election campaigns? Do they use the power of the voting bank to achieve benefits? How do they become active as political agents or influential local leaders? How do they maintain relations with national leaders, elected officials, local political party leaders, and state bureaucrats? What type of governance does the urban poor have in their neighborhoods? Do patron-client relationships exist and how do they work? Do NGOs that work in the neighborhoods play any political role as patrons or organizers? Do people bribe national leaders, elected officials, bureaucrats, and police to gain access to services and utilities? The answers to these questions showed that the comparative situation in the two neighborhoods was quite complex due to their completely opposite housing status. Inclusion is complicated – being included in one aspect of life does not necessarily mean being included in others. If people can get legal housing or utilities, they cannot expect that other aspects of inclusion will necessarily follow. Inclusion itself can exclude people from other benefits. For example, I have looked at the state’s inclusionary housing project, BRP, which failed to include people in the city’s political sphere. Poor people are not powerless, but they have the capacity to build networks, employ political strategies and actions to increase inclusion in the city. However, more inclusion in some areas, e.g., housing, does not always ensure more political inclusion. Among these relationships is the patron-client relation, which the urban poor mostly consider as political strategy, not as mere dominance. To answer the primary research question, I asked questions of 120 respondents in the two neighborhoods: 72 from Korail and 18 from BRP. Another 30 respondents were selected from outside the neighborhoods to get significant voices from those who were involved with them. These included government officials, NGOs, police, and political leaders. During participant observation, in-depth interviews, and focus group discussions, I collected evidence of the interaction of the respondents with the authorities. It became clear that authorities included not only state representatives, but also house owners, local leaders, money lenders, and central political leaders. The respondents who were local leaders and house owners considered the municipality an authority. In the case of BRP, I asked questions about the relationship between residents and the BRP office. I also looked at the creation of local organizations

Introduction  19 and people’s involvement in protests, political parties, and religious organizations. ­Participant observation provided me with important insights about communal relationships, the capacity to access power, and everyday socio-political networking within and beyond the neighborhood. Since December 30, 2018 was the national election, I visited the two neighborhoods regularly throughout that month to observe political activities such as campaigns, voting, and involvement in party politics. I attended numerous political meetings to observe how people were organized. This observation helped me to gain information that I might not have been able to get by other techniques. For example, I witnessed the informal judicial system, where the Banani Thana police were used to address problems on the spot. The informal judicial practices were also part of strategies to avoid external police harassment. Talks of commission, exchange, and monetary payments to local leaders and police officials came to my attention in this way. Throughout the interviews, I investigated the relationships between the respondents and people in authority by asking research participants to discuss external relations and pressure in political decisions at home and beyond. I asked about their experiences, challenges, struggles, voting, political activities, and difficulties in accessing services and utilities. From the focus group discussions, I gathered data on interpersonal and communal relationships, and networks with NGOs and CBOs. I looked at how the respondents of both neighborhoods interacted with local government offices, political leaders, existing informal neighborhood power structure, and police to gain benefits and solve problems. In searching for livelihood options, I looked at how urban poor used political networks and interpersonal relationships to fulfill their goals. I also looked at how residents communicated with candidates and elected officials, and how they approached authorities with various problems. I further explore how they interacted with elites to get utilities and services. Structure of the Book The primary purpose of this book is to explore the nature of the inclusion of the urban poor, how their actions work toward inclusion and access to the benefits of the city life, and what types of relations, strategies, and political actions they use. In this book, I looked at how people gained access to housing, basic utilities, socioeconomic services, political spaces, and their different forms of involvement with the powerful actors. This introductory chapter has discussed the problems created due to the fast growth of Dhaka and how the urban poor were excluded from the benefits of city life and urban growth. Therefore, how people struggled to be included in the city was an important question. It introduced the two neighborhoods of the study, BRP and Korail, and presented the key research questions. I discussed why I chose to study two different neighborhoods and explained how I obtained the data that enabled me to answer the research questions. Following from this introduction, Chapter 1 introduces basic conceptual issues on inclusion, exclusion, power and political participation, formality and informality, and poor urban settlements. The main aim of this chapter is to provide a concise,

20 Introduction up-to-date literature review of the notion of inclusion, exclusion, and the political power of people in a way that makes sense of the achievements and contradictions faced by poor people. Chapter 2 describes the development of Dhaka and the gap between formal and informal governance. It discusses the urbanization of Dhaka and how the city has been transformed by government practices. I set the scene by discussing some of the features of Bangladesh’s pre-colonial, colonial, and post-colonial periods. This chapter also discusses the power relations between central and local governments and the problems arising from the gap between the two in providing services to citizens. This chapter reviews national policies to see how policymakers have treated the urban poor. The focus of this chapter is to understand how policies and actions govern the city and exclude or include the urban poor. This background will help the reader to understand the struggles over resources played out through activities such as voting, development projects, social movements, clientelism, bribery, and nepotism. The purpose of Chapter 3 is to discuss housing inclusion and exclusion and whether the people were included or excluded in their respective housing systems. It highlights the various dimensions of the housing situation including housing plan, design, and infrastructure of the two different neighborhoods. I have questioned whether only housing inclusion can offer the poor to improve their livelihoods and quality of life in the city. This chapter discusses how many poor people of the city are unable to obtain housing due to prevailing regulations, which also created a space for non-regulated practices in the city sphere. These practices included high-priced land, a lack of income-generation opportunities, mass eviction, and dispossession. Chapter 4 explores inclusion in terms of access to basic utilities. It illustrates the different modes of utility service provision, which blurs the nature of neighborhood governance through the formal and informal politics, transactions, and networks. This chapter also describes how the poor have access to the utilities through various processes. For example, community participation with local government institutions, INGOs, and NGOs did get them some access to formal utilities in Korail. In addition to social networks through community participation, Korail residents also become involved in politics to get utilities from formal channels. It also explains how people in poor neighborhoods informally get access to utilities through political networks, informal governance, and by offering bribes. This chapter finally explains how claims to utilities are considered as a form of recognition of citizenship and also how the claims to the essential benefits help to rethink about the city service plan. Chapter 5 analyzes accessibility to three services: health, education, and employment. In this chapter, the role of government, NGOs, and civil society in providing these services is discussed. This chapter shows how the respondents of both neighborhoods manage their health facilities, children’s education, and employment in the face of exclusion. It also explains that despite the larger number of schools, including private primary and high schools, NGO schools, and madrasas, informal housing parents could afford less schooling for their children than the formal

Introduction  21 housing parents owing to economic crises, housing instability, need for child labor, eviction threats, and other factors. Chapter 6 explores the power of people to engage in city politics. It compares the inclusiveness of the two neighborhoods in terms of political participation. It also analyzes whether party politics, voting power, and networks with national leaders help gain political inclusion. It explores political action simultaneously as a measure of inclusion and a strategy to gain inclusion. In this chapter, I introduce diverse political actors with whom the residents interact, collude, compromise, and confront to gain inclusion. This chapter shows how national leaders’ activities, interests, and involvement are different in the two neighborhoods and have varying consequences for the inclusion of their residents. It also discusses both cooperative and confrontational political strategies through which people organize, survive, reduce exclusion, and make a space within the urban design. The concluding chapter returns to the significance of inclusion and power of the people in anthropological understanding the urban politics of the Dhaka city in Bangladesh. Here, I describe the patterns of inclusion and exclusion in different spheres, such as housing, utilities, services, and politics, which the people of BRP and Korail acquired through their political strategies, networks, and power. Ultimately, I tie together the power relations, strategies, networks, and politics that people employ to claim entitlements, participate in party politics, maintain networks with powerful actors, create and control local leadership, and involve in the city’s political spheres in the midst of exclusion. In this light, this book argues for both conceptual and pragmatic understandings of inclusion, exclusion, and the political power of the poor, while highlighting the particularities of the policymaking process that led to the development of the city of Dhaka in Bangladesh. Note 1 US$1 is equivalent to 106.83 taka. Figure accurate at the time of writing book in 2023.

1

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power

This chapter introduces a comprehensive theoretical discussion around inclusion, exclusion, and its relevance to the power and politics of the people who live in poor neighborhoods. This chapter will describe some of the major ideas and debates surrounding the definition and use of these concepts. This theoretical discussion also allows us to understand the patterns of interactions of people in informal neighborhoods with the state and society. Much existing scholarship on the residents of informal neighborhoods emphasizes the exclusionary practices of the state and powerful urban elites toward these people (Bock et al. 2016; Cameron 2010, 2017; da Piedade Morais et al. 2015; Hernandez and Titheridge 2016; Klaufus et al. 2017). In most cases, urban housing construction norms are based on distorted housing finance systems and most importantly, inefficient land policies and regulations that are beyond the reach of the poor (Fay and Laderchi 2005: 20). These failed policies lead to spatial segmentation, a key factor in social exclusion (Cardoso et al. 2003; Ellen and Turner 1997). These accounts emphasize the top-down approaches utilized by the state, non-state, and other powerful elite actors, including bureaucrats, political leaders, and NGOs. They discuss the historical background of several strategies of the state and other powerful actors to exclude poor people in the city. For example, in Soacha, a municipality adjacent to Colombia’s capital, Bogotá, scholars explore how travel strategies in a context of scarce provision of transport limit the vulnerable populations’ access to the city (­Hernandez and Titheridge 2016). Many scholars argue that geographical remoteness of rural areas contributes to poverty and exclusion more broadly (Bock et al. 2014). On the other hand, the people who live in poor neigborhoods in the city center are excluded in various ways. Therefore, the question is how can we define inclusion and exclusion? Inclusion and exclusion are important concepts in both academic research and policy debates because the policy-making process begins with first identifying the causes of exclusion and ends with how to include that community. In both academic analysis and policy debates, the concepts of inclusion and exclusion are considered as opposite. This book immediately raises the question of why we should not be interested in studying these concepts as binary opposite as they often overlap and interact with each other. The central question driving the first part of this chapter is: how have the inclusion and exclusion process been defined in the past and what role has the anthropological scholarship in particular played, not only in DOI: 10.4324/9781003414315-2

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  23 contributing to conceptual definitions and classifications regarding inclusion and/ exclusion, but also challenging them? We need to study the historical background of the two concepts and attempt to clarify their uses for both theoretical and empirical purposes within and beyond the discipline of anthropology. The first part of this chapter explores whether and, if so, in what ways inclusion and exclusion are useful concepts guiding both theoretical and pragmatic analysis in order to avoid the danger of conceptually binary opposition and proposition-poor research. We need to compare how different social, cultural, and political theories explain the formation of inclusion and exclusion, and how these phenomena are conceptualized in broader theoretical accounts of change in contemporary society. Scholars examine the nature of inclusion and exclusion, and grapple with questions of power and politics. A group of scholars argue how the powerful elite actors can include the disadvantaged by providing certain services with empirical evidences (Cheema 2020; Harari and Wong 2018; Herrle and Ley 2018; Silva-Laya et al. 2020). The later also discusses how people can be included in some cases, what services they will be included in, and what role powerful elite actors should play in providing services. Some authors, however, in this chapter examine the boundary between inclusion and exclusion, and compel us to consider their differences broadly. I would like to start the theoretical discussion with some questions: can a clear boundary be drawn between inclusion and exclusion? Are the discussions given theoretically for inclusion sufficient for people to be included in practical life? Where is the limit of inclusion? Does an individual’s inclusion in education guarantee inclusion in the job market, or does housing inclusion in the city assure inclusion in health? These questions underlie theoretical discussion: what’s important in thinking about these questions is that increasingly, some scholars are thinking about embeddedness and interconnectedness, rather than arguing for one system, such as either inclusion or exclusion. Though many authors lead us to think of the inclusion as an opposite idea of exclusion, some scholars claim that inclusion and exclusion are not simple opposites of one another, rather an individual can work for inclusion without necessarily battling the forces of exclusion and vice versa. I explore the processes both theoretically and empirically, by which people in the city expedite themselves with political strategies and make a space for themselves in the city despite various deprivations. I also argue that in many cases, exclusion makes people more strategic to gain inclusion in the city. In many cases, I argue that exclusion often pushes informal neighborhood residents toward inclusion in the city. The theoretical discussion around inclusion, exclusion, and its relevance to the power and politics of the people has inspired me to reframe the straight notion of formal and informal power and politics. This book delineates how informal relations and actions remain in formal institutions, which are usually thought to lie on the society side of the state-society dichotomy, are also annexed to the project of formal political power and governance. My aim in this book is, to critique binary notions of inclusion and exclusion, or, formal and informal, to draw a new theoretical framework in the orbit of political economy perspective with an anthropological understanding. The purpose of this theoretical understanding in turn is to

24  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power attempt to conceptualize inclusion within exclusion or vice versa, and c­ omprehend ­informality in formal domain or vice versa. In this book, I examine inclusion and exclusion, and formal and informal as complicated notions across the social, economic, and political domains. This allowed me to better understand people’s capability to participate in socio-economic and political activities in the context of urban politics. Without understanding this interconnectedness among different aspects of inclusion and the links between inclusion, power, and political participation, the problem of the poor in the city cannot be solved. For example, access to water in a community is portrayed in the literature as water inclusion, but is this access open to everyone in that community, regardless of whether they are rich or poor, landlord or tenant, male or female, a local leader, or a general resident? I argue that the concept of exclusion is also oversimplified. It is not just powerful elite actors that exclude the urban poor. An individual in the same community can exclude another person in various ways. Other analysts consider what the poor can do, despite the barriers they face. Their theories inspired me to think about whether the urban poor have the power to prevent exclusion or gain inclusion. The section on political participation analyzed the scholarship on community participation, patron-client relations, lawsuits, social movements, and collective protests. This discussion considered the multiple forms of power within the urban structure as well as the ways that some powerful elite actors tried to include the urban poor. Finding out how the urban poor can be included, or who gets to include whom, I rather emphasize on the political power of the people—get the answer—how the urban poor create their own spaces of inclusion in their daily lives and use strategies to overcome exclusion. Therefore, it is important to discuss how the concepts of inclusion and exclusion intersect. This chapter seeks to highlight the significance of the inclusion and exclusion at the same time as challenging the dichotomy, and to explore emerging theoretical and empirical developments, including changing attitudes to inclusion; the increasing salience of people’s political power and their agency; and employing both formal and informal governance as political strategy to gain inclusion in the face of exclusion. This chapter has two sections. First, it looks at the literature on inclusion and exclusion to understand the practices and regulations that can incorporate or marginalize the people. This section explores how understanding inclusion and exclusion can contribute to anthropological research. Then, it draws attention to the concept of power and how the urban poor can use it for their benefit. The literature raises the questions of whether the people who live in poor neighborhoods possess political power and how they participate in urban politics. Throughout the book, I use the term “informal” neighborhood as opposed to “slum.” Inclusion and Exclusion: the Conceptual Discussion The major goal of this book is to understand inclusion and exclusion among the urban poor. Numerous theoretical and empirical efforts have attempted to comprehend the ideological, political, and institutional factors that affect inclusion

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  25 and exclusion. I will discuss anthropological scholarship that has researched the ­multiple forms of power, strategies, relations, and political actions of the people that contribute to their inclusion in the face of exclusion. This section will be divided into three subsections. In the first and second subsections, I discuss the conceptual understanding of inclusion and exclusion. This theoretical discussion will conclude with scholarship that shows the relationship between inclusion and exclusion and their simultaneity. Inclusion: Making a Space in the City

Inclusion is undoubtedly one of the most discussed concepts in the field of urbanization. This notion is particularly important when addressing the question of the incorporation of the underprivileged in a society. Numerous scholars have utilized the term inclusion directly, whereas other scholars developed their theoretical discussion by using slightly different terms, e.g., social order and stability ­(Durkheim  1890), cohesion (Gray 2000), citizenship (Chatterjee 2004; Kabeer 2012; Lister 1997), integration (Commins 1993; Potter 1996), active society (Green 2012; Philip and Shucksmith 2003), and incorporation (Gore 1995). In contrast, although the theoretical aspect of exclusion has always been given prominence in academic discussion, “it is often only indirect” (Cameron 2006, 397). When scholars discuss inequality, some are emphasizing on how the city’s elite actors deprive the poorer groups and exclude them from housing, education, health care, economy, utilities, culture, or the urban space. While researching how people are included in the city after migration, some scholars have looked at networks (Fitzgerald and Zientek 2015; Massey et al. 1994), whereas others have concentrated on the difficulties of immigrant settlement and incorporation ­(Perlman and Waldinger 1997; Portes and Rumbaut 1996; Sassen 1998). Scholars have emphasized urban policy and the institutions of sovereignty and citizenship (Castles et al. 2014; Hollifield 2012), while others showed how the informal economy of the migrants plays a role in the national economy (Kapur and McHale 2012; Martin 2015). Achieving an inclusive society has become a widespread development goal of international agencies. Discussions from the late 1970s onward detailed how to include the disadvantaged within society. In 1995, the World Summit for Social Development in Copenhagen defined an inclusive society as “a society for all” in which every individual possesses rights, responsibilities, and an active role (UN 1995, 66). An inclusive society ensures equality of opportunity, regardless of origin or differences of race, gender, religion, class, generation, and geography (Atkinson and Marlier 2010, 286). Inclusion is a lens to create a more equitable society for all, such as those living on low incomes, the homeless, and other poor, leading to more effective and coordinated governance arrangements (Atkinson and Marlier 2010). The authors (2010) believe that the notion of inclusion is not only an abstract goal or idea; it is highly relevant to today’s politics. Through effective coordinated governance, politicians will feel obliged to respond to citizens’ problems with policies and programs that address the needs of the people. This also maintains their

26  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power legitimacy with the electorate (Atkinson 2000). Dutch interventions in Netherlands often included extensive urban renewal of neighborhoods to restructure housing development projects. Van Gent et al. (2009) found that in targeting a limited number of households, the Dutch Ministry of Housing did not effectively address all aspects of inclusion, because of the lack of coordination in policy-making. Numerous scholars brought the idea of integration to the fore by using it to explain the concept of inclusion. Integration is defined as belongingness in urban society and involvement in the urban economy, extending to citizenship experiences, and socio-economic and political connections with service providers, and political engagement within and beyond the places they live. Commins (1993) reminds us that individuals or groups are embedded within institutional systems. He suggests that one’s sense of belonging in society depends on four systems: the democratic and legal system, the labor market, the welfare state, and the family and community system. These systems promote civic, economic, social, and interpersonal integration respectively. Social exclusion should be defined in terms of the failure of one or more of these systems. For Commins, Civic integration means being an equal, empowered citizen in a democratic system, with a sense of access to policy-makers and centers of political power. Economic integration means having a job, and social integration means being able to access the social services provided by the State, without stigma. Interpersonal integration means having family and friends, neighbors and social networks to provide care and companionship and moral support when these are needed. (Philip and Shucksmith 2003, 463) Philip and Shucksmith believe that societal distinctions have created a “dual society” in which a large proportion are excluded and forced to rely on transfer payments versus an “active society” in which all enjoy opportunities for participation in all four systems (2003, 463). As opposed to the cohesive or active society, scholars suggest the notion of “dual society,” the existence of socio-spatial divisions within an urban space in which the city dwellers are segregated and identified according to their different economic statuses, the areas of the city they inhabit, and the sociocultural groups to which they belong (Philip and Shucksmith 2003). Active cities can offer essential services to their residents to continue an active daily life, where every citizen can lead a life of dignity and respect. This is an ideal situation within which individuals can participate in the relevant institutions of society and share in its resources and services. Numerous scholars have addressed citizenship when explaining the term “inclusion” (Chatterjee 2004; Das 2011; Glenn 2011; Kabeer 2012, 2014; Lister 1997, 1998). Glenn (2011) argues that citizenship is not a fixed legal status; rather, it is a fluid status produced through everyday practices and struggles. She believes that citizenship affects both public life (political participation and development of state policy) and private life (family and personal relations). She argues that the lack of citizenship and legal status not only affects household formation but also magnifies

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  27 other social inequalities. Lister (1997) describes the dialectical ­relationship between citizenship as “status” and citizenship as “practice.” Kabeer (2012) draws upon Lister’s distinction of these two concepts and uses them to comprehend the concept of citizenship. By using “status,” Kabeer refers to the existing legal arrangement in society—that people experience the possibilities and obstacles as members of the society with defined rights and responsibilities of citizenship. By using the word “practice,” however, Kabeer refers to the different ways in which people seek to act on and face challenges, for example, human agency to accept, to conform, to question, or to dissent. Vranken et al. (2003) found numerous roles played by individuals in the processes of social inclusion. These roles could be the producer of the labor market, consumer of goods and services, as signifiers whose identities are created through this consumption, as citizens with certain political rights, as members of social networks, and as active actors (Vranken et al. 2003). Andersson (2014) understands inclusion when people can create their own social life even in a spatially illegal environment. Like Vranken et al. (2003), I also identify numerous roles performed by individuals in the processes of social inclusion, as this book examines the nature of inclusion in terms of people’s ability to gain access to the benefits of city life, e.g., housing, utilities, socio-economic services, and the political sphere. Through the term “making a space,” I refer to the nature of inclusion where people have access to city entitlements and control over their city life, which ensures a quality urban life. Crucially, the relationship between people and a city’s political-economic actors is vital for their inclusion as it can be hypothesized that the more one can access powerful actors or resources, the more secure is one’s access to the benefits of city life, e.g., housing, water, education, health, and job. Therefore, I examine whether the people are included or not. If yes, to what extent and which strategies do they employ to get included? The answers to these questions reveal the nature of relationship between powerful actors and residents of the poor neighborhoods in Dhaka. The following section attempts to uncover the barriers that impede inclusion through a discussion of exclusion. Exclusion: Obstacles to Inclusion

Social exclusion can be considered any disadvantage that endangers or weakens everyday economic, social, cultural, and political activities. The concept of social exclusion is multidimensional and emphasizes the processes through which people are excluded from mainstream society and economic, social, and political participation. Exclusion also reduces cultural life opportunities (Duffy 1995; Geddes and Benington 2001; Percy-Smith 2000; Room 1995; Silver 1994). Exclusion is a way that the urban poor can be alienated by the monopolization of scarce resources (Davis 2011); or, by the increment of capital in gated communities, walled-off condominiums, and similar exclusivist investment hubs (Klaufus et al. 2017). Scholars (Silva-Laya et al. 2020) also argue that inclusion is stratified due to educational segmentation and urban segregation. Some scholars (de Haan 1998; Klaufus et al.

28  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power 2017) have defined the ways that individuals or groups of people are completely or partially excluded from full participation within society, e.g., from livelihoods, housing, consumption, utilities, employment, education, and citizenship. There is no consensus about the definition of social exclusion (Hayes et al. 2008), and the specific characteristics of social exclusion are context-dependent (Kummitha 2017); moreover, social exclusion can be introduced in different ways. The concept of social exclusion was first coined by Lenoir in 1974 (Bossert et al. 2007), who estimated that in the 1970s, one-tenth of the population of France was excluded. This included the young, elderly, disabled, and single parents. In the late 1980s, the issue of social exclusion became used in Western European cities when the government defined social exclusion as “a shorthand term for what can happen when people or areas suffer from a combination of linked problems, such as unemployment, poor skills, low income, poor housing, high crime environments, bad health, and family breakdown” (Social Exclusion Unit 2001, 10). Later, the European Commission played a vital role in developing and popularizing the idea of social exclusion, which has helped to create attention to the most obvious and persistent manifestations of the problem (Atkinson 2000). Levitas (1999) describes the term social exclusion more specifically when he suggested three approaches: “an integrationist,” “poverty,” and “underclass approach,” which might be recapitulated as “no work,” “no money,” and “no morals.” Levitas (1999) argues that employment is the key integrating force by providing earned income, which also creates identity, a sense of self-worth, and networks. Causes of exclusion are related to disadvantaged, unemployed, single parents with low income, and lack of resources, with redistribution as the remedy. Disadvantaged people are exposed as those who deviate from the moral and cultural norms of society and are considered burdens that create a dependency culture with “no morals” and are blamed for their poverty and its reproduction (Levitas 1999). The majority of definitions of exclusion are linked to “poverty,” considered to a “lack,” or “deficiency” of the necessities required for human survival and welfare (Wratten 1995). Scholars believe, however, that the notion of exclusion facilitates a broader understanding of the multiple dimensions of poverty (Stanley and Vella-Brodrick 2009). Giddens (1998) believes that exclusion can affect not only a few aspects of individuals but also their entire lives. Scholars consider social exclusion as a complex and multi-dimensional process that involves the lack of resources, rights, goods, and services, and the inability to participate in the normal relationships and activities available to the majority of people in a society, whether in economic, social, cultural or political arenas. (Levitas et al. 2007, 9) The long-term unemployment of an individual may lead to social isolation, which can break down social integration with family, friends, neighbors, and other social networks. Aasland and Flotten (2001), however, have considered four important living condition variables as proxies for social exclusion: these include exclusion from formal citizenship, the labor market, participation in civil society, and

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  29 social arenas. It is assumed that the individuals or group of people would not be ­considered excluded if they possess access to all these arenas. Appadurai’s (2013) work shows that the everyday lives of excluded people are dominated by risk and uncertainty. As he describes, Their temporary shacks may be demolished. Their slumlords may push them out through force or extortion. [The force of the elements or open fires] may destroy their fragile shelters and their few personal possessions. Their lack of sanitary facilities increases their need for doctors to whom they have limited access. And their inability to document their claims to housing may snowball into a general invisibility in urban life, making it impossible for them to claim any rights to such things as municipal health and education facilities [and] police protection. (Appadurai 2013, 157) Researchers find that in Bangladesh, no matter how many plans and programs are instigated by the government to include people, the nonappearance of state agencies during implementation is behind the exclusion of the urban poor (Begum et al. 2018; Choguill 1994). Sen (2000) explains social exclusion through the “capability perspective” on poverty. His insights on the nature of poverty and his contribution to policy and social action in alleviating poverty provoke new thoughts. He argues that “social exclusion can be constitutively a part of capability deprivation as well as instrumentally a cause of diverse capability failures” (Sen 2000, 4–5). For example, if an individual does not have a job or receives credit, it may lead to economic impoverishment, which in turn could lead to other deprivations, such as the starvation of one’s family, causing malnourishment and potentially homelessness. In this context, Sen’s notion of the capability of the human being is crucial to understand the capability of the urban poor to possess power within the urban power structure. This book, however, offers a new way of thinking to explore a gray area between the two ideas rather than viewing inclusion and exclusion as opposites. If we consider the notion of inclusion and exclusion from a micro perspective, can we say that just because an individual has a good job, that person will get access to the political field? For example, a woman who works for two or three households as house helper and earns sufficiently may not be able to include herself into the local politics. Due to time constraint she might not be capable to engage her during the election campaign, and even not to go for vote on polling day. This book examines how some people are excluded from the socio-economic and political life of the city, even if they have access to housing and utility facilities. It explores the difference between house owners and tenants in regard to exclusion, despite living in the same neighborhood. People from poorer neighborhoods may be excluded from various sectors of urban life; however, in this book, I observe the nature and level of exclusion in ten areas: housing, water, sanitation, waste, electricity, gas, education, health, employment, and political life. I particularly explore whether the respondents of two neighborhoods have access to them and

30  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power whether the impact of the lack of these services puts their socio-economic and political life in danger. Inclusion and/Exclusion: Conceptualization of Coexistence

Inclusion and exclusion are not simple opposites of one another—an individual can work for inclusion without necessarily battling the forces of exclusion and vice versa. Zwarteveen and Neupane’s (1996) study explores how Nepalese women irrigators used exclusionary behavior as a strategy for inclusion. Womens’ noninvolvement as formal members in male-dominated meetings and the lack of representation in the organization allows them to take more water than they are entitled to, and they do not need to contribute according to the rules. Women are formally unrecognized; therefore, the organization has difficulty enforcing its rules on them. Some approaches to exclusion have been accused of paying no attention to how inclusion can be problematic, disempowering, and inequitable (Davis 2011; Dyer 2012). Tsing (1999) revealed that in Indonesia, Meratus women experienced marginality with both limitations and opportunities. For example, when a woman moves closer to power centers, she receives luxury and servitude. Should she move away from power centers, she gains autonomy with hardships. Again, Jackson (1999) found that an individual can be included in one domain and can be simultaneously excluded from the political and economic domains. Pradhan (2006) showed that the Newars were excluded from the language domain despite being included in political and economic domains. The scholarship described above elucidate how the notion of inclusion and exclusion are defined, and constructed by scholars, and how these constructions are situated within broader contexts of political anthropology. I, therefore, examine the profound understanding of the asymmetrical and complex relationships between the different domains. This theoretical discussion encourages me to discuss issues of political power because inclusion and exclusion are inherently political and embedded in culture. For example, Beall (2002) says that social exclusion can focus on the causes of poverty and inequality and outcomes but has often ignored, questions of inclusion, including what, on whose terms, and in whose interests it occurs. Do governmental and international aid agencies’ prescribed inclusionary projects ensure equal attachment to all members in a community? Can the crises of class identity, gender politics, religion, caste, and ethnic identity challenge this loosely defined “inclusion for all?” Do people included in the community by their capability that may gain from their political power? I, therefore, turn to a discussion that details whether the people possess the power to participate in urban politics to gain services and utilities in the face of exclusion. Political Participation of the Urban Poor The above discussion on inclusion and exclusion suggests that they are not simply opposites of each other. A community or an individual can practice a variety of means to achieve inclusion. Political participation, therefore, is a way for the

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  31 people to increase inclusion and decrease exclusion. By “political participation,” I refer to the performance of political strategies and actions, e.g., organizing protests, controlling neighborhoods, engaging in party politics, networking with central political leaders, campaigning, and voting. Through these political activities, people can gain power to build relations with more powerful urban actors. They also employ various actions by themselves or with the support of others of the community to reduce exclusion in their everyday lives. Here I discuss the definitions of the term “political” and “power” used by some scholars. Leftwich (2008) calls actions political when a human community, whether family or federation, uses means to come to a collective decision to survive and prosper. Nelson (2017) examines the means by which people protect or advance their political interests. Although this may be violent, Nelson (2017) is more interested in studying non-violent patterns of participation by which people are mobilized or manipulated by others. Wolf’s (1999) discussion of multiple forms of power is useful to understand how power is involved with political participation. According to him, power resides differently within interpersonal relations, institutional arenas, and on the level of whole societies (Wolf 1999). Wolf defined four modes of power: individual power, the potential or capability that is inherited, interactions and transactions among people (which refers to the individual’s ability to impose one’s will in action), organizational power (which refers to the context in which people exhibit their abilities to interact socially), structural power (which refers to the power which manifests in relationships within certain settings and domains), and also through the organization and orchestration of the setting itself. Wolf’s discussion of power has helped me to examine if people are controlled by existing structural powers or if they possess other forms of power through which they can interact, create alliances, or mediate relations with powerful actors. It enables me to consider forms of power through which they can gain access to city entitlements. Scholars argued that these multiple forms of power may not always change the basic structure of the urban poor but could improve urban living conditions (Koenig 2011). This section, however, discusses three separate issues to understand the multiple forms of power that exist within the urban social structure. It introduces the literature that suggests that political forces exclude the urban poor. The second section discusses the literature that explores diverse forms of power exercised by the people. Finally, I discuss the scholarship that introduces the link between formal and informal power and strategies of urban governance. Political Forces That Exclude the Urban Poor

The exclusion of the poor is largely a political-economic process. It includes domination by elite powerful actors, the lack of input of the poor into urban policy, difficulties in achieving urban citizenship, and stereotypical negative understandings of the urban poor. The political processes pursued by powerful elites contribute to the exclusion of the urban poor (Ahmed and Sharmeen 2004; Banks et al. 2011). This ruling class formed hegemonic formal institutions through the dominant discourse,

32  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power planning, policies, and tactics to structure unequal cities (Comaroff and Comaroff 1999; Foucault 1991; Gramsci 1971; Sharma and Gupta 2006; van Holm 2019). Because of this inequality, many urban practices benefit the elite. Piven and Cloward (1971) argue that in America, the majority of the reforms of the last 150 years were directed by the upper class primarily to control the lower class. Colvin et al. (2010) found that middle-class, educated, and NGO professionals had an advantage over the poor working-class members of Community Based Organizations (CBOs). In Bangladesh, urban policies reflected the interests of the dominant class, creating inequality through policies and development projects. For example, Nahiduzzaman (2006) argues that most of the private land development companies had strong financial or business dealings with higher government bureaucrats and strong links to powerful political leaders. In this vein, Harvey (2009) indicates that the structural conditions that privilege private sector development not only lead to urban inequalities but also exclude the poor. Chae (2003) shows how the ruling class excluded the inhabitants from their land in the name of an informal neighborhood upgrading policy in Vietnam. This displacement resulted in gentrification, bringing benefits to landowners or private companies, real estate and commercial entrepreneurs, and the upper class. Most state agencies have historically maintained top-down policies where they ignored marginalized poor neighborhoods. Atkinson and Kintrea (2004) suggest that people’s prospects of socio-political engagement and economic activity are related to the residential location where they live. They find that “experience of deprivation may be more entrenched and fatalistic in deprived areas in response to a range of perceived negative impacts of area on social action and engagement” (Atkinson and Kintrea 2004, 437). Banks et al. (2011) argue that although the urban poor of Dhaka have been eligible to vote since 1994 in city corporation elections, they are still not incorporated into national plans and policies. Scholars have claimed that all governments in Bangladesh since its independence have been anti-urban poor. Banks et al. (2011) argue that urban poverty has also been neglected in research, policy, and action. The urban development policies and practices of Bangladesh have paid more attention to the advice of external agencies rather than considering the needs of the urban poor (Quibria and Ahmed 2007). Scholars argue that “top-down” decision-making and service delivery can be disempowering and contribute to a sense of lack of control (Blears 2003, 2017). Wratten (1995) argued that the urban poor might be denied access to basic services because they lacked political networks. Tsujita (2011) argues that the lack of political clout ensures the urban poor have no alternative but to share limited and degraded infrastructure. Chatterjee (2004) distinguishes “political society” in contradistinction to “civil society.” He considers the role of civil society to be important because it is an integral part of democracy. Participants in civil society can establish equality, ensure autonomy, participate in the decision-making process, and recognize the rights and duties of members. Nevertheless, Chatterjee considers civil society the domain of the elite and their associational life. This is mediated through different institutions located in the public sphere. He believes that this domain recognizes only

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  33 those identities with adequate political socialization to give them legitimacy from the state. In contrast, urban poor residents lack this legitimacy. Chatterjee shows that the language used to describe urban poor residents also marginalizes them. In informal settlements in Calcutta, they are labeled as “floating,” “refugees,” “landless people,” “day laborers,” and “workers with a tenuous hold on subsistence,” although they work hard and build self-help houses in their neighborhoods ­(Chatterjee 2004, 38). How has the relationship between the citizenship and the inclusion been theorized in the existing literature? First, the concept of the citizenship has so thoroughly conjoined the inclusion with the city that it is almost impossible to think of one without the other. Second, there is no space in between citizenship and inclusion. Scholars have discussed how people possess access to land, infrastructure, basic services, and the vote to understand urban citizenship (Benjamin 2008; Das  2011; Mahadevan and Naqvi 2017). For example, Das (2011) shows how objects such as electricity meters, water, sanitation, and paper documents certify property ownership, becoming “material embodiments” for establishing the right to live in a neighborhood. Scholars have argued that competition over scarce resources divided the rich and poor. For example, Ghertner (2012) argues that the urban poor claim urban citizenship by gaining access to housing and other basic services; however, the urban elite resist this demand by claiming that the city requires space for leisure, cleanliness, beauty, and order. The gray area between inclusion and exclusion within these theoretical understandings disappears. Theories of the citizenship always have implicit in them theories of inclusion where exclusion does not exist; similarly, theories of inclusion assume some theory of the citizenship in that inclusion where there is no exclusion. This book asserts that the gray area of exclusion and inclusion is hidden within this deep connection of theoretical understandings of citizenship and inclusion. For example, Simatele et al. (2017) stated that informal waste pickers in the city of Johannesburg played a vital role in municipal solid waste management and significantly contributed to the city’s fiscal development and environmental health. Nevertheless, the institutional and political framework failed to positively incorporate the informal sector into the formal systems of solid waste. In this case, it proves that there is also the presence of exclusion between citizenship and inclusion. Lewis (1966) introduced the “culture of poverty” to portrait an image of poor living where people remain poor from generation to generation due to their lack of effort to develop themselves. This culture was said to include unemployment, absence of savings, lack of privacy, physical violence, predisposition of authoritarianism, fatalism, mistrust of government, a strong feeling of powerlessness, marginality, and helplessness (Lewis 1966, 19). Renfrew (2013, 203) says that, in the 1960s and 1970s, the urban poor were widely portrayed as lazy, dependent, hypersexual, and potentially criminal members of a “seething, frustrated mass.” It placed responsibility for the “pathologies” of poverty on a criminalized urban poor, which might not be accurate. Many of the scholars echoed the notion of his “pathologies of the urban poor”; however, numerous scholars not only rejected his idea of powerlessness and marginality of the poor but also criticized it robustly.

34  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power Some scholars established that the urban poor were not marginal or excluded from the rest of society but were fully integrated, economically exploited, politically repressed, socially stigmatized, and culturally excluded (AlSayyad 2004; Bayat 2000; Renfrew 2013). Perlman disagrees with Lewis’ statement as she believes that the poor are not politically apathetic. Perlman (1976) argues that marginality myths, as instruments of social control of the poor, are a means of simultaneously blaming the poor for their condition and exonerating the dominant classes from social responsibility and equitable distribution of resources and wealth. The poor settlements were characterized as filthy disease-ridden shantytowns (Perlman 1976). Several scholars highlighted how violence played a role in depriving the urban poor who live in informal neighborhoods. Perlman (2004) shows that even after the extensive upgrading programs, including infrastructural improvements, other dimensions of life in the favela have drastically worsened. For example, international drug bosses have taken control over favelas creating domination by violence (Perlman 2005). Finally, favela residents became the target of the militarized violence of the state in the name of controlling the drug business. Although these forces are arrayed against the urban poor, many others have argued that they still find possibilities for political action. An anthropological perspective allows us to pay careful attention to the cultural embeddedness where within the concept of “citizenship” and “inclusion,” the existence of “exclusion” is effective, as I argue in this book, that within the “exclusion, “ inclusion exists, and their relations interchangeable? The following section turns to ways that the urban poor can affect their lives through their political actions and strategies. The Political Power of the Urban Poor

In contrast to the focus on the structural discrimination against the poor, other analysts consider what the poor can do, despite these barriers. This section analyzes formal political participation, community participation, patron-client relations, social movements, and collective protests. Party Politics, Voting, and Political Participation Many researchers have studied the political participation of impoverished citizens (Fischer 2008; Harriss 2005; Holston 2008; Hutchison 2007; Hutchison and Wilson 2020; Lawless and Fox 2001). They show that engagement patterns are diverse in terms of voting rights, levels of engagement, relationships with candidates, the choice to politically engage or disengage, and many other factors. Chatterjee (2004), for example, noted that the urban poor often take part in national and local politics by attending political parades, meetings, and election campaigns. These political engagements encourage political parties to recognize their citizenship. The power of voting is formal political participation. Holston and Appadurai (1998) argue how cities generate new possibilities for democratic politics that transform people as citizens.

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  35 Some scholars have shown how informal neighborhoods become voting banks for politicians who provide basic services and welfare resources in exchange for votes (Zhang 2018). Zhang argued that because informal neighborhood dwellers in Mumbai became voting banks, they gained credibility within urban politics, gained political recognition, and they also showed their persistence in city life through their political rights. In 2001, when the municipal government decided to clear an area near the Mumbai airport where some 85,000 inhabitants lived, the decision failed to be implemented because there was a municipal election in 2002 (Zhang 2018). Even the members of parliament considered this settlement an important pocket of constituents. The majority of politicians believed that the eviction of informal settlements would have negative repercussions on their votes (Sharma 2001). Zhang (2018) also revealed how numerous politicians visited the new settlers and offered them voter registration. After arranging status for the new settlers, both local and national election candidates regularly provided patronage to these new settlers before elections. In turn, depending on how the settlers cast their votes, the government might provide funds and programs for housing improvement and poverty alleviation (Zhang 2018). Similarly, Banks (2008) showed that the urban poor possessed power over the ruling government during elections in Bangladesh. Ang (2016) found that in China, the creation and distribution of public jobs were typically linked to the politics of vote-buying and multi-party competition. Scholars demonstrate the reciprocity between the urban poor and political leaders as “a regime created through… the combining of informal party tactics of mobilization with the formal state apparatus of infrastructure provision” (Roy 2004, 149). In Calcutta, India, influential leaders from the dominant Communist Party offered infrastructure improvements to informal neighborhoods before major elections (Roy 2004). Though voting is a formal political action, many researchers, like Sitrin (2012), show how voting is linked to ineffective government and corruption. Scholars generally agree that electoral politics involves the channeling of benefits toward the urban poor in exchange for votes. Scholars working in Asia ­(Chandra 2004; Lewis 2017), Africa (Van de Walle 2007), South Africa (Auyero 2001), and Eastern Europe (Kopecký and Spirova 2011) have argued that democratization has supported clientelistic politics that provides favors, such as jobs, services, cash, and food, in exchange for votes (Berenschot 2018). If a group of people fulfill the demand of the political leaders to vote during elections, they may gain material benefits and develop patronage, which helps them to secure urban citizenship. In light of the political activities of the people, adversarial policies have given way to efforts to promote and empower informal neighborhood residents, at least on paper. By offering services or resources in exchange for electoral support, the patron reminds the people that they should vote for him/her. In this context, I explore whether the use of political relationships can lead to formalization of neighborhood rights through policy and development programs. This book examines the interactions between candidates and voters and patterns of voting and political activities in the research sites and how this affects inclusion.

36  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power Community Participation National governments undertake development projects in poor urban neighborhoods, for example, upgrading the settlements and providing services and utilities. In India, heavy investment was made to upgrade informal housing, as the new government wanted to end homelessness by 2022 (Jakhanwal 2014). Similarly, in Bangladesh, the current government wanted to provide housing to all by 2021. To fulfill these ambitions, governments undertake various development projects involving state and private organizations. Influential local leaders of the community can communicate and bargain with more powerful actors, including party leaders, members of parliament, ministers, bureaucrats, NGOs, and private agencies. Many of these projects also involve community participation for service delivery and other goals. The notion of community participation suggests that the urban poor organize themselves to establish their rights and ensure their inclusion within the city that is primarily run by the elites. Chambers (1983) introduced the idea of a space for the poor to have control over their decisions. External agents may act primarily as facilitators or a source of funds. Many scholars (Cernea 1985; Hirschman 1970; Ostrom 1990) have argued that collective actions build people’s capabilities to work for their interests and improve well-being. Others have shown that community participation has the potential to empower the people who live in informal settlements (McLeod 2011; Narayan 2002; Stein 2008). Scholars have found that partnerships between the urban poor and state actors in upgrading programs can gradually reconfigure urban citizenship and the rights of the urban poor to the city (McLeod 2011). Appadurai (2001) used the concept of alliance to discuss the work of a group of non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in Bombay that have organized around land tenure, housing rights, and urban services for informal settlement dwellers. The alliance encouraged the poor to design and conduct their own censuses to compare with mainstream urban planning. The NGO-facilitated federation encouraged the urban poor to demonstrate and display effective strategies to achieve formal recognition (Appadurai 2001). Appadurai’s work allows us to pay attention to the culture of community participation of the neighborhoods—that is, how people perceive the process of participation, how their understandings are shaped by their particular locations, leaderships, and activities with the civil society organizations and state officials, and how do the state and non-state development partners design and conduct development activities? Analyzing these cultural processes through which “the citizenship” is instantiated and experienced also enables us to see that the intersection of inclusion and exclusion created by citizens is always political and contested, and is the result of community leadership processes that might be disputed and unpredictable. Community participation often takes place within the context of larger power structures. Choguill (1996) and Patel (2013) carried out research in the same upgraded informal neighborhood, Zwelisha, north of Durban, South Africa. They

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  37 both focused on the relationships among the municipality, community leaders, and other residents, but their work shows the limits of top-down participatory strategies over time. Choguill (1996) showed how the Community Development Committee (CDC) leaders bargained with the municipality in the name of community participation and strengthened the CDC’s power. Patel (2013), however, found that the CDC leaders used their position to manipulate the relationship between the municipality and the residents. According to Choguill (1996), community participation was indicative of citizenship in two ways: it allowed people to obtain basic needs, such as housing or infrastructure, and it permitted marginalized communities to influence formal decision-making and politics. Sixteen years later, however, Patel (2013) found that the core members of the CDC had not changed since the mid-1990s, and they still mediated the relationship between the state and Zwelisha’s residents, even though many of them were no longer residents of the neighborhood. Some scholars have shown that people can play a role in developing policy or at least negotiating to include their voice through community participation. Abers (1998) provided an example of such state-fostered civic organization, where a local participatory budget policy was implemented by the local government of Porto Alegre, Brazil. It has profoundly challenged clientelistic political traditions by triggering the expansion of civic organization, where the locals present the budget according to their needs. Scholars, however, have recently noted the decline of state responsiveness to political claims of the urban poor due to the influence of privatization, such as the role of the NGO network, CBOs, civil society, local leaders, etc (Lewis 2011, 2017; Wood 2003). The majority of scholars argued that formal development projects and their political processes possessed an exclusionary vision toward the urban poor. Mahadevia (2011), for example, found that big money and big players in the urban space were promoted through formal development policy, opening up cities for control. Mahadevia argued that the Mumbai development policy formulated in 2003 by an international consulting firm, McKinsey, emphasized political decisions by the state that excluded the urban poor. Researchers also have found that while an influential group of the community gain benefits through community participation, the disadvantaged groups do not do so. Power relations are maintained not only between outside actors and the urban poor but also within the neighborhood (Hohmann 2010). Numerous researchers have shown that neighborhoods often have two groups: those who possess power and political connections with political leaders, street bureaucrats, NGOs, and others without them (Conning and Kevane 2002; Paxson and Schady 2002). Both groups are often aware of the mechanisms that create and perpetuate inequality between them. The latter group may accept it as fate and attempt to continue with their daily struggles (Hohmann 2010). In light of this literature, I explore what kinds of participation exist in the research sites. Who is targeted by these participation activities? I also explore to what extent disadvantaged groups are included or excluded. Do participatory activities allow the poor to improve their living conditions?

38  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power Patron-Client Relationships Patron-client relations provided a mechanism through which people could gain inclusion by building networks with more powerful actors. These kinds of power relations often created hierarchical dependency. In informal neighborhoods, the inhabitants often attempt to gain access to services through social and political linkages to more powerful patrons. For example, a local community can collectively negotiate with an elected official to gain basic services in exchange for votes, or local leadership can be developed in exchange for employment, money, or specific personal benefits. Benit-Gbaffou and Piper (2012) also show how political patronage disrupts formal politics at both national and local scales. Electoral processes, political parties’ funding, controlling organizations, and securing voting banks are all important activities practiced by authoritative action and institutional support. Central leaders depend on the local leaders to ensure the voting banks, and the local leaders can ensure the vote if they possess authoritative relationships with the community residents, which scholars call patronage (Berenschot 2018). Sen (1999) notes that people’s endowments involve informal socio-political relationships through which claims over resources can be made. For example, a poor woman might require “help” from local patrons or influential individuals. These interactions ensure social connections with powerful patrons, and these relations open a space for the urban poor to receive necessary services. The urban poor often utilize political relationships when searching for livelihood options. The majority of discussions about this relationship carried negative connotations; however, some scholars have seen positive aspects of patron-client relationships and studied patronage as an aspect of social relationships, which helped the poor to become connected and receive resources (Chabal and Daloz 1999; Hodder 2015; Nakamura 2014). Scholars believed that this relationship could be harmonious or even a companion to democracy (Hodder 2015). This relationship cannot be treated as a discrete phenomenon that artificially separates it from social relationships (Hodder 2015). Rather, there is a connection between patronage, bureaucratic organizations, and democracy within the wider society (Hodder 2015). For example, Chabal and Daloz (1999) found that networks of informality, patronage, and clientelism in Africa determined access to resources and influence. Ferguson (2013) showed that in South Africa, poor and subaltern individuals applied a relational strategy where they voluntarily became obedient and submissive toward powerful patrons to reduce their uncertainty and vulnerability. Nakamura (2014) reveals how the urban poor develop beliefs regarding their right to develop housing by examining the relationship between informal neighborhood dwellers and local political actors in Pune, India. For example, people start to believe that some benefits are their rights, such as informal settlement declarations, marking a residential zone, political patronage, possession of ration cards, and personal water taps. These beliefs of the local people significantly influence their housing investment decisions in imitation of the local leaders, which also shapes the politics of the city. Some scholars argue that the urban poor ensure basic services through their formal political activities; however, other scholars indicate

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  39 the existence of clientelism or patronage amid this formal power structure (Auyero 1999; Deuskar 2019; Williams 2017; Wood 2003). This patronage-based behavior provoked party leaders to attempt to undermine reformed political parties and government; however, they also became unconcerned over providing services to the poor (Aufrecht and Bun 1995). Many scholars have criticized this strategy because this relationship imposed highly stratified social relations. Within this relationship, hierarchies establish the poor as more powerless and disadvantaged (Scheper-Hughes 1992; Stitt and ­Auyero 2018; Wood 2003). Others found that local patronage led to benefits such as housing or services (Hodder 2015; Nakamura 2014). A group of scholars, however, have identified how powerful actors capture programs to reduce urban poverty risk and deepen existing inequalities (Banks 2015; de Wit and Berner 2009; Patel 2013). Analysts have given different names to the self-appointed leaders that gain local influence through their relationships with more powerful patrons such as brokers. Through patron-client relationships, self-appointed community leaders develop patronage relations with local and national political leaders, government officials, and law-enforcement agents. The other members of the community develop and strengthen their social capital through networks with these local figures (Arias 2017; Khan 2000; World Bank 2007). These scholars believe that middlemen and their client relationships help the community to gain access to urban political spaces along with services, utilities, and resources. Scholars referred to mastaans as self-appointed leaders who set up committees, maintain links, and have patronage from local and national political leaders, government officials, and local law-enforcement agencies (Khan 2000; World Bank 2007). These relationships are found in many different places. In the former Soviet Union, leaders had allocated care (a scarce resource) based on political loyalties to Stalin, rather than the objective criteria of “economic planning” (Lazarev and Gregory 2003). However, to maintain patron-client relationships, local leaders have to maintain a high level of political connection, which may dictate particular actions to them (Banks 2015; Hossain 2013; Suykens 2015). The problem with informal regulation is that only a minority of the community benefits, those who are relatively well-off, politically well-connected, or able to connect themselves to more powerful actors (Hossain 2013). Wood (2003) argues that the poor have less control over relationships and events around them, as the inhabitants lack effective power. Wood (2003) claims that mastaans manage shelter and services and control access to employment as intermediaries between informal neighborhood dwellers and more formal institutions. Given the importance of patron-client relationships, I gathered data on both the urban poor and powerful actors in my research sites. Throughout my research, I have searched the forms of power, relations, and networks that the urban poor possessed as a means to achieve inclusion. Many scholars argued that the urban poor have become active in politics and more strategic in organizing themselves to claim their rights. I will now discuss these theoretical points of view in the following section.

40  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power Social Movements and Collective Protests Scholars have explored poor people’s everyday political mobilization (Piven and Cloward 1971, 1979; Smith 1989) and the emergence of radical forms of political actions (Rodgers and Jones 2011). After describing three brief historical examples of grass-roots movements, Castells defined urban social movements as “urbanoriented mobilization that influences structural and social change and transforms urban meaning” (1983, 305). Like Castells, Harvey (2008, 23) argues that it is a right of city dwellers to change themselves by altering their city. This transformation depends upon the demonstration of collective power to reshape the operation of urbanization. Harvey showed how radical political action pushed back against social and economic marginalization by drawing examples from urban uprisings around the world, including the Paris Commune, Occupy Wall Street, and El Alto, Bolivia. He believed in the potential of “rebel cities” as catalysts for a larger anti-capitalist struggle (Harvey 2014, 116). For example, the former president of Brazil, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, found that through a strong union movement, the urban poor finally gained access to tenure security in 160 illegal neighborhoods in East Sao Paolo (da Silva 2003, 194). Harriss (2005) found that the urban poor were more politically active than the other citizens, and they organized social movements based on their own interests. One aspect of my research was to consider whether the residents in my research sites participated in social movements or collective protests and whether this participation was able to increase their inclusion. If there were social movements how the urban poor organized and participated, I was also interested in how the neighborhoods were different from each other or similar. Moreno-Jaimes (2007) shows that the Mexican voters do not make accountable the elected officials for inaccessibility of basic services by voting, but rather by organizing direct protest. Pierce (2015) considers active participation in solitary and collective strategies to improve service security in the poor neighborhoods. He found that in Hyderabad, India, the residents of three informal neighborhoods created a collective platform named Basti Vikas Manch to raise their voice and actively let the state know about their displeasure with the services. Similarly, Hohmann (2010, 136) found that a strong housing rights movement has developed in the face of housing inadequacies in Mumbai, as poor people have established themselves as an integral part of the city and as contributors to cultural, economic, and social vibrancy. Chae (2018) also explained how Vietnamese workers employed diversified political actions in a multinational factory to establish their rights. Numerous researchers, however, consider people’s political participation as multidimensional (Booth and Seligson 1978; Norris 2002; Verba et al. 1973; Whiteley 2012). Inspired by them, I have studied the political participation of the two neighborhoods’ residents in many different forms, including engaging in active party politics, voting, participating in community activities, building diverse sociopolitical relations and networks, filing lawsuits, and organizing collective protests. This theoretical discussion ends with the scholarship that believes that the urban

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  41 poor possess multiple forms of power, which will be divided into two sections: formality and informality. Formality and Informality

To understand patterns of inclusion of the urban poor, it is also essential to discuss issues of formal and informal access and structures. Scholars discuss the idea of formal and informal in different aspects of life, for example: political participation, voting, community development projects, land and other services, the structure of neighborhoods, employment, economy, and the labor market (De Soto 1989; ­Harrison 2010; Lutzoni 2016; Mahadevia 2011; Mitlin 2001; Rakodi 2001; Roy 2009). Formal forms in urban governance comes from the customary system of comprehension, routine analysis, idea of legalization, regular behavior, and conventional design which can be based on the structured idea of calculated, monitored, centralized, hierarchical, bureaucratic, and intrusive controlling power of the city (Lutzoni 2016). Formal hierarchy refers explicitly to a structure where multiple levels of authorities exist, creating a vertical differentiation of power (Shantz et al. 2020). The concept of informality was first introduced by Hart’s seminal article on the informal economic sector in Ghana and the International Labor Organization’s work in Kenya (Hart 1973; ILO 1972), though the terminology was extended to many spheres outside of employment over time. Subsequently, many scholars focused on the connection between the formal and informal sectors (Portes et al. 1989). De Soto (1989) conceptualized informality on a scale of legality, categorizing economic activities and property rights as legal (formal), extra-legal (informal), and illegal (informal). He highlighted how the inability to produce capital causes informality, which is an effect of a structure that lacks formal property rights. Scholars have discussed various aspects of informality. Informality can be associated with marginality, precariousness, and social problems, which have emerged due to the absence of basic services and government intervention. Informality in urbanization is common, as people use informal strategies to find places to live, work, and get access to utilities and services, claim their rights, or even establish themselves as important urban actors (Birch 2019; Davis 2006; Fischer et al. 2014; Roy and AlSayyad 2004). Chabal and Daloz (1999) also found that informal networks in Africa were paramount and determined access to resources and influence. Pieke (1995) showed that in China, personal transactions such as corruption, gift giving, and clientelism play a vital role in mediating the transactions between market and bureaucracy, and in integrating society at the level of social action. Scholars also use the word informality which broadly refers to “the world’s open secrets, unwritten rules and hidden practices” (Ledeneva et al. 2018, 1). Koenig (2011) has also focused on the polyvalent character of the state and argued that the state apparatus consists of multiple state agencies and has multiple levels of structural power that are neither monolithic nor completely coherent; rather, they frequently conflict with one another. Therefore, within this multilayered disjuncture power structure, individual officials or offices may have different goals and ambitions that

42  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power create spaces that individuals and groups can use for their inclusion (Koenig 2011). One aspect of my research was to consider whether the residents in my research sites employed informal strategies, networks, transactions, and actions and whether these informalities were able to reduce exclusion and increase inclusion in housing, basic utilities, and socio-economic services. Scholars of political anthropology (Bourdieu 1977; Coleman 1988; Putnam 1993) have analyzed how different socio-political networks and organizations facilitate the ability of the urban poor to gain power, decision-making, and policies that assist them to achieve inclusion. Appadurai (2013) says that political process can be governed from below and brought to bear by the urban poor. For example, informal actions can be utilized as a strategy to resist marginalization and displacement. Many scholars have discussed how informality is practiced in the midst of formal politics. For example, Sitrin (2012) shows how the unemployed can only find employment by going through their local puntero, the political party broker who works for the local Peronist Party. The puntero claimed to possess the ability to arrange jobs or other services in exchange for involvement in election campaigns. I have also examined whether there were local leaders who worked for the political parties, and how they mediated the relations between elected officials and the residents in my research sites, and whether these political relations and party engagements decreased their exclusion or increased their inclusion. Informality often entails direct intervention by powerful authoritative actors. Some scholars bring to the fore an important aspect of informality in light of the fact that the elites use informality as much as the poor do. For example, state agents sometimes demand bribes or harass urban poor in the name of service provision (Gupta 1995, 2017; Heyat 2002; Scott 1972; Tellez et al. 2020). Heyat (2002) showed how municipal bureaucrats frequently harassed Azeri female entrepreneurs in the name of conducting a regulatory test for proper documentation and investigation of their work conditions. The entrepreneurs said that when municipal bureaucrats talked about bureaucratic rules and regulations during the conversation, they interpreted this as demands for bribes. Gupta (1995) found that people in India often bribed state officials to gain access to services. Roy’s work (2003, 2009) depicts informality as a state of deregulation. Roy draws upon Holston’s (2008) work on Brazilian cities by pointing to the state’s regulatory power and asks: “who is authorized to mis(use) the law in such ways to declare property ownership, zones of exception, and enclaves of value?” (Roy 2009, 80–81). Roy (2003) supplies the answer, saying that the state itself utilizes informality as an instrument of accumulation and authority for the urban elite. In this vein, Stacey and Lund (2016) find that in Old Fadama in Accra, an alternative public authority and self-governance emerges, while relations with formal state institutions shift back and forth between vilification, tacit acceptance, and productive cooperation. Simultaneously, the urban poor establish their rights and social contracts that underpin and define what will constitute the ideas of state and law through informal negotiation (Stacey and Lund 2016). It is clear from this discussion that state actors and powerful elites use informality as much as the poor

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  43 do. Since one of my research areas is a formal housing project, and the other is an informal neighborhood, I have examined whether both residents and powerful actors use informality and whether they gain inclusion through informal means. Several discussions regarding the different aspects of informality present in urban life in society inspired me to rethink the relationship between informality and inclusion. While situating my research within this relationship, I have examined whether informality itself is exclusionary. In general, many authors share the view that informality is associated with weak state capacity where the state fails to provide formal services due to resource constraints or inadequate control of the bureaucracy. As the literature reveals, the formal state is not a unitary entity but a complex, fragmented system (Migdal et al. 1994). Sitrin (2012) argues that informality hidden in the middle of the formal political process helps some to be included but deprives many. She shows that in Argentina, the participants receive light bulbs in exchange for involvement in a political rally or meeting where they are requested to shout the leaders’ names in exchange for a vote. Many often feel obliged to do so due to their poverty or unemployment and are, therefore, attached to the political and clientelistic relationship to receive services. In the context of my research areas, I examined whether informal neighborhood residents and those in the formal neighborhood were similar or different due to their formality and informality. The discussion of several scholars has further made me consider whether there is informality within the formal neighborhood. If so, is the situation between formality and informality straightforward? How do some of the urban poor alternately choose formal and informal means as a way to increase their inclusion in urban society? Formality and informality may be remarkably complex, as informality, according to scholars’ argument, is the situation of the state that allows the poor to instigate constant negotiation of land claims, but never fully resolve such issues (Roy and AlSayyad 2004, 159). Considering the same entrenchment of informality in the context of my research areas, I have explored its socio-economic, political, and legal aspects. Instead of considering informality as opposed to formality, Roy and AlSayyad (2004) argue that informality may not be considered as backward and underdeveloped. Rather, informality within cities needs to be considered a way of life, even in the formal structure of the city. Scholars, however, have shown how informal practice exists amid formal organizations (Bearfield 2009; Hodder 2010, 2018; Pieke 1995). The formal and informal forms of actions may influence the state’s decision. For example, a city administration may be tolerant toward an informal neighborhood, whereas the same city authority may attack another neighborhood through an eviction drive. The type of decision the state makes regarding the poor neighborhoods depends on residents’ political networks with state actors and their action. Sometimes their actions and movements force the government to think about inclusive policies (Fischer 2008; Harriss 2005; Holston 2008). Mehrotra (2008) finds that the forms of formal and informal governance are fluid, ambiguous, interconnected, and overlap to the point that they are difficult to decode, map, or subdivide. Scholars investigate the relationship between the formal and informal spheres of urban life and explore the change in the relation between

44  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power them (Koster and Nuijten 2016; Lutzoni 2016). It seems difficult to ­understand the gray line between formal and informal; however, Wenger (1998) argues that within informality, informal collegial and reciprocal interactions and formal management structures coexist, for example, “institutional affiliations, divisions and boundaries” (1998, 119). Koenig (2017) argues that informality can become a gateway to formality. Nakamura’s (2016) article contributes to studies of the informality of neighborhoods on two fronts. First, it displays how informal arrangements not only lead to the provision of basic public services but also persuade the workings of formal institutions through the development of policies and programs. Second, this book challenges facile understandings of large-scale informal neighborhoods, which generally portray informal settlements as chaotic, lawless, or subversive. Urban informality can take many forms. I examine the informal activities and organizations of the people and how they facilitate inclusion or reflect exclusion. The urban poor have strategies to gain inclusion in exclusionary urban areas; they “are not just beneficiaries or victims of planned intervention, but also inventive navigators” (Koster and Nuijten 2016, 282). The above literature has attempted to explain formality by using perceptions such as structured regulation and calculated systems, and informality by the ideas of alternative actions and strategies to gain inclusion in the absence of a formal regulatory system. I examine the diverse forms of formality and informality across social, economic, and political dimensions. For example, I examine whether formality merely refers to structured bureaucratic rules and regulations, or whether formality is practiced beyond that. The focus of these discussions is primarily on how informality is practiced in the absence of formal governance. However, both formality and informality can also exclude and include the urban poor, and they both can be practiced in each other’s governance. These are not discussed in detail in the literature above. To understand the diversity in formality and informality, I examine how formal governance works in informal neighborhoods such as public water service, as well as how informalities are practiced in the formal housing project. Throughout this research between the formal and informal neighborhoods, I seek to understand whether people in two different neighborhoods practice diverse actions and strategies to claim their citizenship-based entitlement rights. If so, what kinds of political power, actions, networks, and strategies do people use to decrease exclusion and increase inclusion? The Politics of Blaming and Naming: Exploring the Theory of “Slum” Rapid urbanization often leads to a turn from agriculture to factory work and the migration of people from rural to city areas. During the 19th and 20th centuries, areas composed of peasants and agricultural workers were rapidly transformed into areas constituted by city-center factory workers (Sassen 1998). Developing countries also experienced this dramatic growth of cities. With this growth, many cities have faced new and emerging challenges and crises. In 2006, nearly half of

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  45 the world’s population lived in cities; Cohen (2006, 63) suggested that over the following 40 years, an increase of two billion people in the global population was expected in urban areas in the developing world. Although urbanization has been blamed for urban poverty, some researchers have linked it to economic growth as they have argued that the benefits of an informal urban economy are more widely recognized (Glaeser and Glaser 2011; Krugman 2011). The World Bank (2009) also claimed that it would be hard to have sustained economic growth without urbanization. Some scholars find that urban problems in developing countries are often linked to the lack of necessary resources, planning, and the institutional framework to handle such pressures. The informal labor market is often seen as a route out of poverty for poor migrants. A dominant factor in the high influx of urban immigrants is greater employment opportunities in urban areas (Afsar 2000; Ishtiaque and Mahmud 2017; Stoeckel et al. 1972). Spontaneous urban growth without proper administration generates multiple forms of inequality, exclusion, and deprivation, which in turn leads to spatial inequalities, with growing informal settlements for the poor migrants and gated communities for the wealthy, in places such as Mumbai, Dhaka, Nairobi, and Cape Town. This divides the city into two groups, for example, elite and poor neighborhoods. Scholars have debated whether migration and urbanization processes can bring benefits to migrants, or whether they make the migrants’ lives more vulnerable. After settling down, the migrants often live in neighborhoods with only basic services and utilities, as it is a tremendous challenge for the city authorities to meet the demand. Scholars have shown that the urban poor often have a low standard of living because of rapid urbanization, high rate of migration, weak policies, and inappropriate incentive systems (Tacoli et al. 2015). They experience insufficient regulatory frameworks, the absence of political will, and dysfunctional housing markets (Tacoli et al. 2015). Therefore, poor neighborhoods grow and proliferate in cities. Urban researchers, therefore, studied the characteristics of poor neighborhoods. These scholars in particular have explained the different roles of these neighborhoods. Many have explained how informal settlements became a metaphor for socio-economic divisions of the city (Bertuzzo 2016; Mayne 2017). The informal neighborhood is not formally deeded; because of this, cities have not provided services such as water, sewerage, electricity. Though in the beginning informal neighborhoods were viewed as the symptom of abnormal urban growth, the notion later changed. They were considered “self-help projects” undertaken by low-income people attempting to build homes with their own skills and resources ­(Karpat 1976). Informal neighborhoods exist in many forms, and they have been given many different names: squatter areas, slums, favelas, shacks, bostis, etc. One of the most general is the “slum.” The United Nations Center for Human Settlements defined “slum” as a term used to describe “a wide range of low-income settlements and/or poor human living conditions” (UN-Habitat 2003, 3). The Cities Alliance states that “Slums are neglected parts of a city where housing and living conditions are appallingly poor” (2006, 1). Srinivas’ (2005) use of term “squatter” suggests that these neighborhoods

46  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power can be defined as residential areas developed without legal claims to the land and/ or permission from the relevant authorities to build. People can squat on land without adequate infrastructure and services; the land may belong to the state or private parties. Slums are often portrayed as the epitome of deprived urban settlement. For example, even though approximately 80% of informal settlement residents in São Paulo have a legitimate claim to property ownership (Holston 2008), they still retain the image of a slum, which indicates substandard housing. Hohmann said that many consider Mumbai to be “a city of slums” but this is misleading (2010, 135). First, not all of those who lack adequate housing in Mumbai live in slums. There are other forms of informal or illegal settlements and other gradations of homelessness that define the lives of Mumbai’s residents. Second, the word “slum” connotes physical squalor, social dysfunction, and economic stagnation. Hohmann (2010) argued that these stereotypes are often used inappropriately to describe the homes and neighborhoods of informal settlers. The term “slum” is generally used when referring to one specific category of poor neighborhood that usually is in centrally located areas, has poor infrastructure, and lacks legal status, where only low-income people reside. Scholars have criticized the use of the term “slum.” Mayne (1993, 10) argued that slums were an “imaginary schism,” discursively created by popular media and social reformers in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It divided the modern city into two opposites, one with the progressive bourgeois capitalist spirit, and the other the slum: a pre-modern space, subaltern, dark, debilitating, morally degenerate, crime-ridden, and subversive (Mayne 2017). The infrastructure in neighborhoods characterized as slums is typically due to inequalities in the service provision by the state for the poor (Mayne 2017). Gilbert (2007) argued that the term “slum” has a pejorative connotation that creates an identity and affects the reputation of its residents. When the characteristics of the residents are judged by the physical conditions of the settlements, they are viewed as people with personal defects (Gilbert 2007). Scholars who work in ­Brazil’s informal settlements affirm that the negative stereotype of the so-called favelados is fixed firmly into the middle-class Brazilian psyche (Torres 2012). The slum is considered a state of being constructed in different ways within particular cultural contexts. However, the social stigma that comes from living in slums is largely the same, a consequence of the lack of accurate knowledge about people there. One of my two study sites, BRP, was created to re-house informal neighborhood residents; official documents call it a rehabilitation housing project on government land for poor and landless people in the city. Government officials called the BRP buildings “slum dwellers’ flats.” BRP respondents said that even after buying an expensive flat, they were still considered “slum dwellers.” Fernandes and Smolka (2004) found that the residents of upgraded settlements in Latin America remained stigmatized as second-class citizens long after the settlement had been ameliorated. Many have used the term “slum” interchangeably with other negative words, for example, squatter or homeless (Chowdhury et al. 2018; Habib 2009; Tipple and

Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power  47 Speak 2006; UN-Habitat 2003). UN-Habitat (2003) states that not all slums are the same, and stereotyping the people who live in slums is perpetuating a common misconception. Due to the lack of a systematic study of slum residents, the occupations they pursue are not well understood (UN-Habitat 2003). It is often assumed that slum residents are primarily people, such as domestic servants, rag pickers, sex workers, cleaners, manual laborers and metal workers, carpenters. Others are stereotyped as being involved with drug dealing, crime, prostitution, and arms trafficking. They are considered mostly uneducated and with dysfunctional households. These images promote the idea that poor neighborhoods are “urban sores” with no positive contribution to urban development (UN-Habitat 2003). I offer a vigorous rejection of such views. Though many among the urban poor might be relatively less educated and engage in the informal economy, I have explored in this research whether they had strategies, power and actions through which they could reduce exclusion and gain inclusion. Rao (2006) emphasized on how we need to understand not only the historicisms of particular theoretical positions but also the historical consciousness of the subjects positioned within the theoretical landscapes, where “slum as theory” plays a specific role. Perlman’s (2005) findings refuted the idea that there were boundaries between Brazilian favelas and the rest of the city. She suggested that favelas should no longer be defined as illegal as the majority of the dwellers had access to utilities and brick housing, nor were they “free” places to live given the existence of a dynamic real estate market both for rental and purchase (Perlman 2005). Moreover, not all informal neighborhood residents are poor. The main distinction between slums and the formal city is the deeply rooted social stigma that adheres to them and restricts access to the formal job market and credit (Perlman 2005). Because of this stigma, young people often preferred to disguise their home addresses at work or with friends (UN-Habitat 2003). Given the derogatory stereotypes associated with the words slum or squatters, I will call these research areas settlements or neighborhoods. First, I have found that the respondents themselves were hesitant to introduce themselves as “slum dwellers” and blamed researchers, elite residents, and the media for the negative representation. Second, the city’s powerful actors use the term “slum” as a synonym for an informal neighborhood, which creates misconceptions about human capability and power. Though slums are considered illegal, and residents are considered vulnerable, they are tolerated and maintained because of the role they play in reproducing the legitimacy of the state and the political parties in power (Basu and Haque 2012). I have focused on the capability and power of residents to create social and political relations and networks, to reduce exclusion and gain inclusion. Conclusion A range of important issues and theories about inclusion and exclusion, political participation, and informal urban settlements have arisen from the discussion of scholars, discussed in this chapter. Many have interpreted inclusion as synonymous with integration, accommodation, citizenship, and incorporation in the city.

48  Understanding the Politics of Inclusion, Exclusion, and Power Some have linked ideas of inclusion to power and people’s political participation. ­However, most of this scholarship does not reveal the multifaceted patterns of inclusion, which need to be understood. In this book, I examine inclusion as a complicated notion across social, economic, and political domains. This allowed me to better understand people’s ability to participate in socio-economic and political activities in the context of urban politics. Without understanding this interconnectedness among different aspects of inclusion and the links between inclusion, power and political participation, poverty cannot be solved. For example, access to water in a community is portrayed in the literature as water inclusion; however, does everyone in a neighborhood have access to water regardless of one’s economic ability, tenure status, gender identity, and political networks? The concept of exclusion is also oversimplified. It is not just powerful elite actors that exclude the urban poor. Other analysts consider what the poor can do, despite the barriers they face. Their theories provoked me to think that exclusion is not a simplistic top-down phenomenon. Poorer people resist their exclusion and domination in the face of dramatic inequalities of wealth, income, and political power. The section on political participation analyzed the scholarship on community participation, patron-client relations, lawsuits, social movements, and collective protests. This discussion considered the multiple forms of power within the urban structure as well as the ways that some powerful elite actors tried to include the urban poor. To dive deeper into understanding popular power and politics, I considered two major forms of power and action: formal and informal. Many scholars have sought to understand the power structure by dividing it sharply into the formal and the informal. However, some have argued that there is no room for such a division. For example, informality exists within formal governance and vice versa. I have explicitly explored the concept of formality and informality in political participation, looking at formal voting, lawsuits, and informal transactions. Because of the importance of the formal/informal distinction, I studied the two contrasting neighborhoods, one of which was formal and the other informal. I examined how this basic distinction affected inclusion, exclusion, and political participation in those two neighborhoods. In the next chapter, I discuss how the present-day structures of urban governance of Dhaka developed. I focus on growth and changes in urban structures over a long period, under the different regimes. This chapter will also discuss how the new Bangladeshi cities treated urban residents, especially those in informal neighborhoods. Some urban policies will be discussed. The next chapter also introduces several state agencies, their structures, and activities, important in informal neighborhoods.

2

Who Governs the Dhaka City?

To examine inclusion and exclusion and the role of politics among the urban poor, formal governance is important. This chapter discusses city governance, policies, and the state agencies that play a crucial role in the inclusion or exclusion of the urban poor. This chapter will introduce the structure of formal governance in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Urban governance is the combination of many individuals and institutions, both public and private, which prepare plans, evaluate, manage, and administer the affairs of the city. Power exists inside and outside formal authoritative agents, and urban policy decisions are based on complex relationships between the city’s different actors. The discussion of this chapter is divided into four sections. The first section discusses the history of Dhaka’s governance to provide a background to the presentday city administration and how the city’s structure transformed administrative policies and practices. I set the scene by exploring some of the salient features of Dhaka in pre-colonial, colonial, and post-colonial periods. Historical accounts of urban governance in each period in the Indian region of Bengal reveal how Dhaka’s administration employed bureaucratic procedures. The last part of this discussion will address how excluded people in East Pakistan participated in urban politics, and how this exclusion led to rebellion, creating the resistance of 1971 and the fight to build an independent state. Even in the independent country, the urban poor have been excluded. The second section will present the growth patterns of Dhaka, where I discuss the central and local governance systems. The third section will present central government planning for urban growth. It will also discuss policy-making organizations and their inclusion and exclusion of the urban poor. In the last section, I will discuss the activities of contemporary state agencies. This background will help the reader understand the struggles over resources played out through activities such as voting, development projects, social movements, clientelism, bribery, and nepotism. Urbanization of Dhaka: a Brief Historical Background Local government structures and functions have evolved with the socio-economic and political transformation of the region. As the recorded history of Dhaka spans a time frame of over 400 years, I have divided the discussion of Dhaka’s evolving DOI: 10.4324/9781003414315-3

50  Who Governs the Dhaka City? urbanization into four phases: the pre-colonial, the colonial, the post-colonial, and post-independence. Pre-Colonial Period This city of Dhaka grew from a small settlement confined by the Buriganga and Dholai Khal rivers to a busy commercial center during the Mughal period (early 16th to the mid-18th century). There is no clear consensus about the spatial extent of the city during the early pre-Mughal and the Mughal periods (Rahman et al. 2016). Scholars have written about these early periods, for example, on the morphological evolution of Dhaka (Ferdous 2012; Mowla 1997) and socio-political perspectives of administrative structures and administrators (Barkat et al. 2015; Chowdhury and Faruqui 2009; Islam 1993, 1996). Others focused on the city’s history of urbanization, the environment, and health conditions (Dewan and Corner 2013). However, there is a great deal of debate about when and how a settlement was first established at the site of today’s old Dhaka (Dewan and Corner 2013). Although the history of the area can be traced back to the 1st century, most historians focused on the Mughal period in describing the history of Dhaka’s settlement. For example, historian Mirza Nathan claimed that there was a sizeable fort in Dhaka before it became the capital of Bengal (Daily Star 2018). Before the arrival of the Mughals, Turkish and Afghan governors ruled it and considered it an important town for business. Historical evidence demonstrated that Dhaka existed as a town before the Mughals established it as the capital of Bengal in 1610 (Dani 1962). Kabir and Parolin (2012) argued that “Human settlement in Dhaka can be traced back as far as the 12th century, but it was the Mughals who for strategic reasons established a town in the early 17th century” (2012, 1). That time urban Dhaka owed its origin to a defense and commercial center and was essentially a constellation of villages where for different reasons at different times, one village or another became the dominant political center. The center acquired the status of a city, known locally as Ganj or Hat (the marketplace). Some historians claimed that in the 17th century, urban Dhaka began as a trading post. However, during the reign of the Mughal Emperor Akbar (1556–1605), Dhaka came into the domain of the Mughal Empire, and was referred to as a thana, which meant military outpost (Henry 2010). Scholars claimed that the first urban administrative structure created on the Indian subcontinent was during the Mughal occupation in the 18th century, which led to the growth of urban economic activity, especially the rise of local manufacturers and traders (Dani 1962; Siddiqui 1994). As Dhaka became a large manufacturing center with artisans or craftsmen, manufacturers came to settle from the rural areas, especially to buy raw materials and sell garments for both internal and international consumption. Due to Dhaka’s prominence as a center of trade and commerce, foreign businessmen, traders, and bankers started to visit. The Mughal decision to make Dhaka a center in the 17th century indicates a relationship between the arrival of Europeans and the Mughals. In fact, during that period, Dhaka became a cosmopolitan place where people from all over region, as well as foreigners, came to trade.

Who Governs the Dhaka City?  51 British and European settlers arrived in large numbers and organized European companies. Simultaneously, the French and the Dutch also began to establish factories in one area of the city, the Chouk Bazaar, close to the Mughal fort and ­Buriganga River. The Chouk Bazaar became the main commercial area (Ganj/Hat) and the oldest settlement within the area of Dholai Khal. It was populated with new laborers who migrated to the city for work. In this settlement, there was a natural system of transportation, where the rivers and water channels were a main form of transport. The primary communication route was generally a river or another water channel (Khals) through which workers could commute to the Ganj/Hat, the main center of the city. The mercantile activities of foreign traders, artisans, local patrons, and workers, and the needs of administration and military defense resulted in the growth of urban Dhaka. A large number of artisans developed the city’s economic infrastructure by establishing factories that hired many workers. These included potters, gold, silver and blacksmiths, shell cutters, weavers, jute painters, and carpenters, many of whom were migrants from rural areas. The population of Dhaka reached approximately 900,000 in the 17th century because of its prosperity (Mamoon 2001). Each neighborhood during this era was known as a mahalla or ward. Scholars identified two types of mahallas: the Amiri (rich) mahallas for Mughal rulers and elite artisans, and the service mahallas for service providers (Mowla 1997). The Amiri mahallas were well defined by socially cohesive communities. Physical structures were relatively large, filled with gardens and open areas. The service mahallas, with much smaller physical structures and less privacy, often had a confined locus. Many were single-caste/lineage/professional residential areas. The nobles and gentry Mughals preferred to occupy spaces along major streets, gardens, the river, or adjacent to large open spaces distant from chaotic urban neighborhoods. The city was managed and administered by different civic bodies. Panchayats (committees of five members) managed the mahallas. The panchayat, community (mahalla)-based organization consisted of five or more persons and had executive and judicial powers (Barkat et al. 2015). A Kazi (judicial head) and a Kotewal (administrative head) were in charge of the city as a whole. The Kazi was the pre-eminent judicial officer with responsibility to enforce justice in the panchayat. A Kotewal was essentially a chief executive’s head office of the settlement. The chief executive possessed magisterial powers; however, in some cases, he was responsible for maintaining law and order in the city. Later, the Kotewal office was developed as the “keystone of the municipal organization” (Panday and Panday 2008, 561). Each mahalla had a panchayat office that was usually funded by fines, fees, and donations. Municipal duties, such as road repair, path and tank maintenance, upkeep of civic places, and appointments of Patwaris and Chowkidars, who collectively performed administrative tasks, were executed by the mahalla panchayat (Mowla 2016). The panchayat had several purposes, including arbitration of disputes, punishment of moral or social offenses, upkeep and maintenance, and upholding social norms and obligations. Although both headmen and panchayats played their role in urban areas, panchayats were more dominant in urban Dhaka.

52  Who Governs the Dhaka City? There was a lack of representation for the population within this urban government structure in the absence of a representative body. The people were not permitted freedom of speech in this top-down administration (Panday and Panday 2008, 561). For the 75 years reign of the Mughal Empire, Dhaka remained the capital of Bengal. By 1750, the Bengal region accounted for 75% of the Indian subcontinent’s goods. Dhaka, at the center, was famous for its fine embroideries, cotton, silk, muslin, and other products (Metcalf and Metcalf 2002). These products were exported to France, England, Portugal, Holland, Iran, and throughout the Middle East. Though the commercial center was Dhaka, the products, particularly muslin and cotton, were manufactured in vast areas adjacent to Dhaka. This trade and commerce encouraged a few local panchayats to try to improve communications areas with Dhaka. The Mughal administration dug a large number of canals throughout Dhaka and its adjacent areas, for boats and ships were the major means of transport that allowed Dhaka to increase connectivity with other regions. British Colonial Period The region developed the manufacture of textiles and found an expanding market in Britain as it was opened up to traders over the late 16th century. This expansion continued uninterrupted until the early 18th century when the British East India Company took over power in the region in 1757 after Robert Clive’s victory at Plassey against the last independent Mughal ruler of Bengal, Nawab Siraj-ud-Dawlah. After this victory, the British East India Company not only emerged as the dominant political power but also took on governmental authority in Bengal. In 1765, the company increasingly controlled civil administration, and in 1872, it gained the power to collect and administer the revenue of Bengal. The Portuguese, Dutch, and French had separate settlements in Calcutta; however, the British took control of them. The East India Company moved the capital of Bengal from Dhaka to ­Calcutta. The relocation of the capital to Calcutta resulted in a decline of Dhaka’s trade and commerce, leading to fewer manufacturing industries. During the colonial era of Bengal, the British rulers not only consciously distanced themselves from the natives (King 1976), but they also replaced indigenous systems with their own model of local governance and abolished judicial systems, such as the panchayat. They initiated local administration of cities with the ­British Magistrate under Bengal regulation 39 of 1793 (Mowla 2016). The local elite, including urban landholders, merchants, and traders, who supported the transformation to British Magistrate governance, became more influential and began to benefit commercially as well. The essential principle of the colonizers was to divide the society, making use of the local opportunist elite, through the policy of indirect rule (Dani 1962; Mowla 2000). This situation was based on patron-client relationships that helped the colonialists to exercise power over Bengal. Rule was based on a combination of extortion by the native collaborators and the imposition of taxes, which exploited the people in general. There was little concern about the welfare of the people; rather, the colonial rulers established local governance in their own interest. “Taxes collected for urban development went to pay

Who Governs the Dhaka City?  53 for municipal improvements and services that primarily benefited the colonizer’s district of the cities” (Mowla 2016, 16). The colonial rulers favored the development of major coastal cities and the extraction of wealth from the inland regions (Breese 1966; Jacobs 1984). Dhaka became an internal extraction area, and Calcutta the main coastal urban center, though regional patterns of settlement did not change significantly (Mowla 2016). Dhaka came to have two centers, becoming what many scholars term a dual city (Bose 1973; Brush 1962). Some called the two centers the old and new town (King 1976), others considered them cultural and administrative centers (McGee1971), whereas others noted that they separated the English from the native people (Mowla 2016). For example, the Dilkhusha neighborhood and beyond were allocated to the cantonment (a permanent military station area) and the Bagh-e-Badshahi garden area was encroached by the company’s “English” settlers. These two areas became elite areas, distinct from the rest of the city. Cities in East Bengal began to appear in a new colonial form, which reflected the new power structures and exercised functions relevant to the colonizers’ interests. For example, the British East Indian Trading Company destroyed Dhaka’s famous muslin industries, as the company rulers forced handicraftsmen to produce products at low wages. Many workers became unemployed and returned to their villages to pursue agriculture because of this exploitation. Almost 700,000 of its residents left the city; by 1800, the population declined to 200,000 (Ahsan 2009; Mamoon 2001). In 1838, the population of Dhaka was 68,338 (Mamoon 2001). Some British administrators, however, particularly the Collector Charles Dawes, attempted to return the city to its glorious past. In 1840, he launched a municipal committee of Dhaka; however, it had no funding (Mowla 2016). “Lack of financial resources remained the most important constraint to the Dhaka municipal urban development” (Ahmed et al. 2013, 29). Nevertheless, the committee widened the streets of the city to ensure the free circulation of air considered essential for public health. During 1841, urban amenities, such as piped water and streetlights were connected, and roads were constructed throughout the main city areas. In 1858, the British Crown took over the Indian administration from the British East India Company and began to restructure Dhaka, as it had suffered from disastrous famines, floods, and fires. In August 1864, the Bengal Act-III of 1864 led to the formal establishment of Dhaka Municipality, a significant step in the urban development of Dhaka. Previously, the administrative officials ran the municipal council, whereas now elected political leaders such as mayor and ward commissioners did. Under the Bengal Act, municipalities were allocated the responsibility to deal with civic amenities, such as improving sanitation, education, and other local functions. During that time, the municipality first created a house tax, which was its main source of income. Through several acts between 1870 and 1947, the municipalities gradually increased the number of representative bodies as well as its area of work. When the Bengal Municipal Act of 1884 was enacted, there were 9–30 councilors, of whom two-thirds were elected by city residents who voted for councilors from their areas (Barkat et al. 2015). Although the chairman was a district magistrate, two-thirds of elected councilors were representatives of residents.

54  Who Governs the Dhaka City? With the development of these institutions, electricity was supplied, more roads, sidewalks, and culverts were constructed, and drainage networks were established. The government had moved toward establishing responsible urban governance; however, there was still little space for the general people to participate in decisionmaking. The electoral rolls consisted of just 9% of the total population; specific qualifications, such as property ownership, income, status, location of residence, were required in order to vote. In 1921, a campaign for women’s suffrage in Bengal emerged where elite women participated to get voting rights. In the meantime, the population of Dhaka began to grow again. In 1911, the population was 125,733 (Mamoon 2001). The British planner Patrick Geddes recommended a detailed Master Plan for Dhaka in 1917. Although it was initially appreciated, it was not implemented in the following decades. The city became more urbanized; the crown government established an airport, hospitals, and educational institutes, such as Dhaka University. This government converted the fort into a jail and its surroundings to Victoria and Ramna parks, which provided green spaces. The Bengal Municipal Act 1932 brought more significant change to the structure of municipalities. For example, elected representative bodies of municipal boards were introduced; the municipality was divided into wards with a fixed number of commissioners for each ward. The act also provided an elected chairman and vice-chairman and reserved seats for different communities, such as Muslims, Sikhs, Indian Christians, and Anglo-Indians. City infrastructure was developed over the subcontinent during the British occupation of India; however, the purpose of the municipal government did not change. Rather, it retained its former position of maintaining law and order. Like the Mughals, the British government was not concerned with coordination. It constituted a local executive body that could administer the directives of colonial power (Panday and Panday 2008). Despite these changes, the politics of the municipalities were hegemonized by the local patronage and traditional power structure that was concerned with improving the quality of basic services for themselves, not the citizens (Islam and Khan 1997). Pakistan Period After approximately 200 years of British colonial rule, the people of the Indian subcontinent protested for Indian self-rule. The British government began to map out a path to independence. After independence, Hindus and Muslims decided they could no longer remain united, and in August 1947, the subcontinent was partitioned into India and Pakistan. Pakistan was a Muslim-dominated area and India was more Hindu, although there were many minority religions in India. After the partition, the area formally known as East Bengal became East Pakistan and Dhaka was declared its capital. The relationship between West Pakistan and East Pakistan was politically and administratively strained from the outset. There was political and economic inequality between the two sides of the country with West Pakistan the dominant partner. Dhaka’s population grew steadily as landless rural residents began to migrate to the city and a large number of Muslim refugees migrated to Dhaka from across

Who Governs the Dhaka City?  55 India. In 1947, Dhaka’s population was 250,000 and covered approximately 16,062 acres (Mamoon 2001). Dhaka, as the capital of the East province, had to struggle to accommodate many migrants within its administration and businesses. By 1951, the population of Dhaka had grown to 335,928 (Mohit 2012). In 1956, the Dhaka Improvement Trust (DIT) was established under the provision of the Town Improvement Act of 1953; it was renamed the Rajdhani Unnayan ­Kartripakkha (RAJUK) in 1987. Under this Act, DIT was responsible for building permits, zoning regulations, building demolition and construction, roads, bridges, culverts, shopping malls, staff quarters, industrial estates, and commercial areas (Dewan and Corner 2013). In 1960, a new Municipal Administration Ordinance was enacted to bring democratic institutions to urban municipalities (Barkat et al. 2015). At that time, ­Dhaka’s population was 560,143 and covered 18,039 acres (Mamoon 2001). Though the Pakistan government continued the same urban local government system, they brought some changes. They created new committees such as municipal town union and ward committees (Panday and Panday 2008, 562). However, the municipal committees, including the chairman and half of the members, were members by the central government of West Pakistan. It resulted in a lack of representation of the people again. There were no divisions of responsibilities among these four kinds of committees; therefore, their roles and functions were often confusing, which created conflict (Panday and Panday 2008). Therefore, rather than providing services with specific responsibility, the West officials of the municipalities controlled the administrative service in East Pakistan. Crucially, the West’s governance was characterized by patronage and self-­ interest rather than accountability, reliability, and transparency. For example, although recruitment from both the East and West wings concerned national policy, only approximately one-third of the members from the East wing were recruited into the Pakistan Civil service. The exploitation of East by West resulted in increased tension and a liberation war in 1971. However, as soon as 1948, the people of East Pakistan realized they were excluded from the activities of the government of Pakistan, beginning with the ruling government’s refusal to designate Bengali as an official language, despite the prominence of its speakers. A Language Movement against Pakistani rulers began in 1952 when it was declared that Urdu, spoken in West Pakistan, but not in the East Pakistan, would be the state language. On 21 February 1952, civil unrest erupted after the police killed student protesters from Dhaka University and other political activists. After several years of conflict between East and West Pakistan, the West Pakistan government was compelled to grant official status to the Bengali language in 1956. In 1966, a democratic political movement began, which consisted of a series of mass demonstrations and intermittent conflicts between police and the protesters. Pakistan President Ayub Khan was forced to step down in March 1969 in the face of the mass uprising in East Pakistan. Then, the army chief, General Yahya Khan, took charge and imposed martial law. He was compelled to announce the date for the National Assembly elections in Pakistan on 7 December 1970. The people of East Pakistan expressed their dissatisfaction with the ruling party of West

56  Who Governs the Dhaka City? Pakistan by voting. Out of 300 seats, East Pakistan won 162 while West Pakistan received 138. The ruling Pakistan People’s Party won only 81 of the 138 seats in West ­Pakistan. However, West Pakistan did not accept this result, which resulted in war. The nationalist movement reached its highpoint when Yahya Khan refused to hand over power to the Awami League (AL), led by Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, which won a landslide victory after the first general election held in 1970. The common people of East Pakistan fought against the armed West Pakistani military in 1971 and gained independence at the end of the year. The next section will provide a brief account of the legal and bureaucratic structure of the then newly born Bangladesh. After Independence: Bangladesh Period The new nation of Bangladesh established its capital in Dhaka in 1971. In 1972, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, under whose leadership the earlier mass movements were organized, was elected Prime Minister of the first government of independent Bangladesh. The government immediately experienced problems, including shortages of foreign currency, natural calamities such as cyclones, ruined infrastructure, lack of industries, and destroyed administrative structures. Because many villages were burned by the Pakistani army during the war, many rural residents migrated to Dhaka. These processes not only boosted Dhaka’s population but also led to the settlement of much nearby vacant and cultivated land. Those migrants were too poor to buy land, and they often formed informal housing and went in search of work. By 1974, 10% of Dhaka’s population lived in informal settlements (Choguill 1987). At that time, the population of Dhaka was 1,600,000 and covered 25,699 acres (Mamoon 2001; World Population Review 2021). The new government also acquired land and developed areas for formal neighborhoods to accommodate administrative offices and houses for officials, civil servants, and elites. The new government enacted a constitution for a secular state with a parliamentary form of government, a bill of citizen rights, and a strong commitment to local government. However, political elites, businessmen, and bureaucrats siphoned state resources into their own pockets (Umar 1989). For example, under DIT plans, many areas of Dhaka, such as Dhanmondi, Gulshan, and Banani, became affluent locations, distinguishable from other neighborhoods. The political elite, businessmen, and bureaucrats began to build houses there. These often enhanced the beauty of the city and the status of the affluent neighborhoods. However, there was nothing for the urban poor. The urban poor began to build temporary houses in the vicinity of these areas so they could reach workplaces, particularly rich houses and shops, etc. The rich did not usually object to these informal neighborhoods as they needed their labor. The Korail neighborhood is presently an informal neighborhood surrounded by affluent areas and located in the city center. In the first 15 years of independence (1971–1986), informal neighborhoods were formed at a rate of 20 settlements per year. After 1986, the rate increased to 100 informal neighborhoods per year ­(Prashika 1996).

Who Governs the Dhaka City?  57 In 1975, the prime minister of Bangladesh, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, was a­ ssassinated by the military. From November 1975 to December 1990, two m ­ ilitary dictators ruled the country: Major General Ziaur Rahman (1975–1981) and Lieutenant General Ershad (1982–1990). In 1990, the people formed a movement during Ershad’s regime to establish democracy. The autocratic General Ershad was ousted in the face of a mass movement. The fall of the military regime paved the way to regain democracy. The Bangladesh National Party (BNP) leader, Khaleda Zia (1991–1996), wife of late president General Ziaur Rahman, became Prime Minister, whereas the present ruling AL party was the official opposition. The BNP and AL parties became the two largest political parties of Bangladesh. The incumbent Prime Minister, Sheikh Hasina, who became the chief of AL party, after assassination of her father Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, was similarly elected. These two parties have alternated power since the creation of the democratic government and 1990s elections. The AL party has been in power since 2008. The Act of 1974 (Act 56) designated Dhaka as the Dhaka Municipality. The central government divided urban local governments into two main levels: municipalities (small cities) and city corporations (largest cities). In Bangladesh, currently there are 328 municipalities and 12 city corporations. In 1983, the Dhaka Municipality was renamed the Dhaka City Corporation (DCC). Eleven other large cities in Bangladesh were also granted City Corporation status later. In 1990, the population of Dhaka reached 4,486,421 in 68,201 acres (BBS 1991) and there were one million informal settlements in 2,156 clusters within the city (Mohit 2012). Until 1994, the mayors of the city corporations were appointed by the central government. In July 1992, to democratize the local councils, including city corporations, and to redefine their roles and responsibilities, the Supreme Court directed the government to organize the election of all local councils within six months. The then ruling BNP government sought permission from the court to delay elections until January 1994, so it could update voter registration lists and demarcate ward boundaries (N. Ahmed 1995). Since then, elections in the City Corporations and all other municipalities have been held democratically. In 1994, mayors were elected for the first time by popular vote in the four city corporations. The late AL leader, Mohammad Hanif, won the DCC election and became the first mayor of the DCC with a landslide victory. This election was expected to herald a new era in the history of local democracy in urban Bangladesh, where all the political parties wholeheartedly engaged in this electoral process (N. Ahmed 1995). This election also created the opportunity for city residents to choose their mayor and ward commissioners. The urban poor also possessed the right to vote. The democratic electoral system that was introduced after 1994 at the local government level in urban Dhaka ensured the election of mayors, and ward commissioners of the city corporations played a strong role in socio-economic, political, and cultural life. The election increased the importance of the city residents, and it created accountability to voters. Thus, the urban poor have become involved in party politics, especially elections. Party leaders also need a political cadre of local leaders and mastaans,1 especially during elections, to collect voters. These

58  Who Governs the Dhaka City? local leaders are tasked with ensuring voting banks; they create political networks between party leaders and state bureaucrats through party politics. Researchers believe that the beginning of political relations with informal neighborhoods dates back to a few years before the return to parliamentary democracy in the early 1990s (Jackman 2018). President Ershad attempted to stimulate support for the Jatiyo Party (JP), his own newly formed political party, before the 1986 election by increasing select laborers’ wages if they joined his party. General Ershad wanted to build popular support to maintain his ruling coalition (I. Ahmed 2004; Jackman 2018; M. Khan 2013; I. Khan 2000). This was important because there were the beginnings of a mass movement against the Ershad government and in favor of parliamentary democracy. Those poor urban residents who became involved in Ershad’s party were given political and bureaucratic benefits. Many local leaders took advantage of this opportunity to build informal housing on private or public land. Their neighborhoods later became known as the JP’s voting bank. For example, Korail was once known as a JP voting bank. Later, it moved to the BNP when that party formed a government. Now there is an AL voting bank (the present ruling party). Governments since 1991 have systematically used the urban poor to gain political power through empowering local leaders loyal to the party’s leaders. Dhaka, the capital city of Bangladesh, has experienced rapid urban growth since 1971. Rahman (2001) argues that although informal neighborhoods have existed for more than 200 years, the number of them has increased since independence. Between 1990 and 2005, the number of residents living in informal neighborhoods in Dhaka more than tripled from 1 million to 3.4 million (CUS 2006). The number of informal neighborhoods expanded by 70%, from 3,007 to 4,966 (CUS 2006, 12). The residents of poor neighborhoods are at risk when they live in low standard, insecure housing and do not have access to utilities, services, and socio-political life. Administrative Structure of Bangladesh Government As noted, Bangladesh adopted a parliamentary democracy after gaining independence in 1971. The Constitution of the People’s Republic of Bangladesh states that the administration consists of three branches: legislative, executive, and judiciary. Within the parliamentary system, the legislative branch is composed of 350 ­members of parliament, including 50 seats reserved for women. According to the Constitution, each proposal in the parliament for making a law is in the form of a bill, and if the majority of the members of parliament pass a bill, it will be presented to the President for assent (article 80). The executive branch exercises executive power: the chief of the state is the President, and the head of the government is the Prime Minister. Under the office of the Prime Minister, the cabinet is the main authoritative body of the executive branch and makes the collective decisions of the government. It is composed of the Prime Minister, 25 cabinet ministers, 7 advisors, 18 state ministers, and 3 deputy ministers. The judicial branch comprises four institutions: the Supreme Court, subordinate courts, the magistracy, and administrative tribunals. Beneath the central government administration is the

Who Governs the Dhaka City?  59 urban local government that administers city corporations and municipalities at a subnational level. The Central Government The central government has the power to make laws for the whole country through the approval of the President. The ministries and government agencies work beneath the central government, and the most influential part of the executive is the ministries. A ministry consists of at least one division or organization, although many ministries have multiple organizations. For example, the Ministry of Local Government is responsible for housing and building, regional and rural policy, municipal and city administration and finance, and the conduct of the local-level elections. It contains two divisions, the Local Government Division and the Rural Development and Co-operatives Division. Of interest here is that the local government has several agencies through which the power of the central government has been transferred to local authorities. This allows them to provide services at the local level. In Dhaka, there are other local government institutions: the City Corporations and the Dhaka Water Supply and Sewerage Authority (DWASA). Under the political leadership of the ministry, a secretary is the administrative head. That person’s responsibility is to conduct and coordinate the duties of the multiple divisions and agencies. The central government has the ultimate authority to determine the size, form, and boundaries of local government institutions and their territories. Most importantly, it allocates resources to the local governments as grants; this includes a portion of staff salaries. For example, if an elected mayor wants to introduce a program for better service delivery, one has to get approval from the Ministry of Local Government to implement the program. Moreover, the central government decides the sources of income, the rates of taxes, expenditure, and controls the functional jurisdiction of local governments. The central government also possesses the power to dissolve a local body on the grounds of gross inefficiency, tyranny, or the inability to meet monetary obligations. Though it has the authoritative power to settle inter-institutional disputes within local body areas, the central government has exhibited a lack of willingness to coordinate governance structures for the citizens, including the urban poor (Hussain et al. 2015; Panday 2017, 2019). Urban Local Government Local government facilitates welfare activities through the local people’s elected representatives. Both urban and rural local governments in Bangladesh comprise representatives elected by popular vote. These include mayors and ward commissioners in urban city corporations and chairmen in the councils of rural areas. Urban local governments were established to decentralize political power and administrative authority. They also connect local people with the central government. The central government, however, through its executive and legislative power, not only controls the local government institutions but also interferes at various

60  Who Governs the Dhaka City? levels. According to Panday (2017), the functions that have been allocated to the local government institutions are very ordinary and not specifically distributed. For example, the same function is allocated to more than one organization at a local level; often no one performs the function properly due to the lack of specific definition and jurisdiction (Panday 2017). Urban local governments have 22 assigned responsibilities, including ensuring water, sanitation, solid waste collection, housing, health care, roads, public markets, public transport, primary and secondary schools, birth, death, and marriage registration, street lightening, and other major economic activities. They tend to have difficulty carrying them out because they often lack managerial capacity and the ability to deliver services. They often keep poor records, conceal decision-making, and make decisions without including stakeholders (Panday 2017; Rahman 2001). One indicator of the limited power of local government is that it cannot appoint junior-level employees without approval from the ministry. Even if the local governments manage funding from outside projects, expenses will be confirmed by the central government. This proves that the local government possesses limited power to mobilize its funds, because of the dominant role of the central government. Local governments do not have a separate budget allocation for health services. Despite these limitations, urban local governments are desirable to citizens. City dwellers elect the mayors and ward commissioners, and these representatives try to find ways to provide better services, even if only because they hope to win votes in the next election. Even though local governments are subordinate to the central government, through them, poor people can participate; they can influence a local administration to show accountability, influence policies, and work for people-­ oriented development programs (Rahman and Rahman 2005). Bangladesh’s colonial heritage, periods of military rule, and the lack of consistency in democratic government have been some of the reason for its top-down governmental system and the lack of coordination among different agencies. The central government has been characterized by a patronage power structure rather than accountability, humanitarianism, and people friendly and participatory approaches. Numerous urban experts (e.g., Panday 2017; Rahman 2001; Rahman and Rahman 2005) believe that as long as the local government is not free from the control of the central government, the general public will be less likely to receive good services. Dhaka North City Corporation Now Dhaka has approximately 44,500 per square km. The DCC was responsible for managing this city. In 2011, the present AL government dissolved it and created two separate corporations, Dhaka North City Corporation (DNCC) and Dhaka South City Corporation (DSCC), based on the realization that it was nearly impossible for one city corporation to provide services to 12 million people. DCC North now has 54 wards, while DCC South has 75. Each Corporation is a self-governing entity with an elected mayor and ward commissioners from each ward. Since both

Who Governs the Dhaka City?  61 of my research areas are under the jurisdiction of DNCC, I am primarily interested in DNCC activities. DNCC consists of 36 wards. Large city corporations are divided into wards to make it easier for residents to get services through the ward commissioners. Each ward has an elected commissioner. An area can be divided into several wards depending on the size of the area. The ward commissioners are elected by residents. Each of the ward commissioners has a ward office where residents can come for birth or death certificates, school applications, etc. A ward commissioner also acts as a supervisor of DNCC activities by maintaining, operating, and monitoring different ward activities. Banks (2015) argues that ward commissioners are gatekeepers to the poor’s participation in the wider system of municipal governance. The people generally cannot communicate with the mayor directly; however, the ward commissioner can usually be reached, especially if there is a political network. Within limits, Dhaka’s city corporations have tried to include the urban poor in different projects. For example, during the 1990s, the DCC established a Slum Improvement Department to improve the physical infrastructure of the informal neighborhoods of Dhaka city. This was mostly funded by UNICEF, which bore 80% of the project costs; the project touched some 5,000 families. In a similar vein, the DNCC has created the Slum Development Department (SDD), which addresses potential urban disasters such as waterlogging, drainage, fire hazards, and other critical issues. Central Government Planning for Urban Growth Central government policies affect the activities of local governments. This section considers central government planning for urban areas. In recent years, national policies have been formulated to frame urban development and state agencies have begun to address urban issues (I. Ahmed 2014). The Constitution of Bangladesh ensures that “each and every citizen will have an equal access to the basic necessities of life including food, clothing, shelter, education, and medical care” (article 15). The Constitution states that the state is responsible for ensuring nutrition and the improvement of public health, along with ensuring equality of opportunity to all citizens (article 25–28). I focus on whether urban plans and policies support the words of the Constitution. The state’s Five-Year Plans are the overall policy documents that cover all policy sectors in Bangladesh for every five-year period. Some scholars believe that the urban policy framework has neglected the needs and rights of the urban poor (Rashid 2009). The Five-Year Plan: Urban Policy in Bangladesh The government formulated its first Five-Year Plan in July 1973. In October 2015, the Seventh Five-Year Plan was written for 2016 to 2020. In each plan, the policy emphasized the development of housing for government employees as well as the need to resettle informal neighborhoods (in official terms “slums” or “squatters”). For example, the First Five-Year Plan (1973–1978) emphasized the development

62  Who Governs the Dhaka City? of multi-story buildings for low and middle-income groups, although it highlighted even more the construction of private apartments and the government quarters for state employees (GOB 1973). Housing for government employees was prioritized over poor neighborhoods in the Second Five-Year Plan (1980–1985) as well (GOB 1980). The Third Five-Year Plan, formulated for 1985–1990, encouraged the private sector to become active in new housing development for the state employees; it also encouraged building rehabilitation projects for the urban poor; however, so far, no successful rehabilitation has taken place in Dhaka (GOB 1985). Creating housing estates for government officials and powerful agencies was highlighted in the Fourth Five-Year Plan (1990–1995). The new democratic government recognized the significance of the informal sector in urban development. It proposed state intervention for the people who lived in informal settlements by fostering initiatives such as building rehabilitation projects (GOB 1990). Some urban slum upgrading programs included the development of roads and drains, sanitation, street lightening, and tube well installation, which led to an improvement in the quality of life of the residents of the informal neighborhoods. A plan was developed to establish the National Housing Authority (NHA) to address housing issues among low and middle-income groups. The Fifth Five-Year Plan was formulated for 1998–2002, bringing new aims and goals. For example, this plan was to provide housing to urban working poor women in the city. It also promoted effective involvement of the private sector, through organizations such as NGOs. This plan also proposed a special loan fund for landless urban poor who wanted to build houses (GOB 1998a). As usual, this plan also stressed the importance of ensuring housing for government officials. The Sixth Five-Year Plan formulated for 2011–2015, announced an ambitious urban development program. It emphasized the steady rise of labor productivity and job opportunities in manufacturing and services. However, this document portrayed informal neighborhoods as a problem. It stated that, “the already acute slum population is growing further, contributing to serious human, law and order problems” (GOB 2011a, 209). The plan acknowledged that poor city management, low efficiency, and considerable corruption exacerbated urban problems, and that water and air pollution from poor waste and traffic management posed serious health risks. The plan gave no specifics on how to solve the problems or which ministries or departments would work on it. The Seventh Five-Year Plan, formulated for 2016–2020, claimed that “Over the last two decades, the central government has tried to address it (rapid urbanization) through multi-sectoral development projects along with policies on specific themes” (GOB 2015a, 457). This plan, however, also considered informal neighborhoods to be illegal settlements (GOB 2015a). The document suggests several strategies through which the urban poor could gain access to land, such as providing collective tenure security for communities, scaling up the Poverty Reduction Action Plan, supporting CBOs or NGOs to assist people in assessing and negotiating lease conditions, setting up cooperatives for group tenure, assisting people in creating land administrative rules for cooperatives, and sorting out land disputes. As it considered the urban poor to be entrepreneurs and self-employed in

Who Governs the Dhaka City?  63 the informal sector, it suggested the creation of special zones for micro-enterprises, farmers’ markets, and hawkers’ stalls. According to this plan, there was a need to change attitudes toward the urban poor (GOB 2015a); however, there was no direct indication of how, or who, or which agency would spearhead this change. All seven Five-Year Plans treated urbanization policies. They emphasized proper urbanization, the participation of the private sector, housing for government officials, etc. Conditions of the urban poor were integrated into several of the ­Five-Year Plans; however, specific guidelines for including the urban poor in times of rapid urbanization were not included. Mohit (2012) argued that policies have been adopted to deal with informal neighborhoods of Dhaka since 1975; however, these political approaches were ineffective because of the large scale of the problem. Specific problems included bad governance, dysfunctional land markets, corruption, and lack of political will. Recently, concerned government departments have begun to formulate their own policies. These include the National Housing Policy of 1993 and the National Health Policy of 2011. Before reviewing the national policies, I will discuss the new Master Plan for the city, the Dhaka Metropolitan Development Plan (DMDP). Dhaka Metropolitan Development Plan In 1997, RAJUK (Capital Development Authority) prepared the Dhaka Metropolitan Development Plan (DMDP 1995–2015), which proposed new city guidelines for managing urban growth. Recently, an upgraded plan was also proposed. Both plans suggested relocating the urban poor from the city center to peripheral areas, providing tenure security by occupying suburban and agricultural land near Dhaka. The second plan proposed to improve transport facilities so that the urban poor could commute from the outskirts of Dhaka to the city center. However, there were no direct and clear guidelines regarding the development of transport infrastructure nor discussion of issues such as mobility, time management, transport cost, traffic management, and air pollution during commutes. These plans were not practical and implementable due to the reality of the urban poor’s socio-economic conditions, land management systems, transport facilities, and political networks and practices (Nahiduzzaman 2012). Nahiduzzaman (2012) analyzed business relationships among powerful elite actors such as policymakers, bureaucrats, and land developers, and their interventions within the policy of DMDP. Such an exclusionary plan not only victimized poor people but also alienated them from the urban areas. National Housing Policy Framework The Bangladesh government formulated a national housing policy in 1993 at the request of international agencies, CBOs, NGOs, and professional groups. The state admitted that there were problems in the housing sector and the national housing policy acknowledged that little had been done to solve housing problems for all. Though the policy promised equal access to land and housing for all, the reality

64  Who Governs the Dhaka City? was different. For example, this policy promised that the poor, the disabled, the distressed, the aged, women, and other minorities would receive housing. Most importantly, this policy promised to ensure water supply, sanitation, and other neighborhood facilities within a reasonable time. This policy also promised cheap housing construction materials, housing loans, land tenure security, and serviced land for the poor and lower-income groups. A proposition to ensure income generation of the poor suggested the urban poor would be included in the city. This policy not only discouraged forcible relocation but also underscored upgrading existing informal neighborhoods. The urban poor of Dhaka, however, including Korail and Bhashantek residents, still live in fear of forced eviction. Even after the adoption of this policy in 1994, two state agencies, the Public Works Department, and the Ministry of Railways, evicted two different informal neighborhoods in the span of three months. That time around, 10,000 families were evicted in the name of city development. The initial draft of the national urban sector policy in 2011 proposed social justice, tenure security, and access to basic services for the urban poor. According to the Constitution of Bangladesh, housing is a fundamental right. Housing exclusion is defined in such a way that it is presented as synonymous with discrimination, unfairness, inequality, poverty, poor politics, a deficit in participation, lack of social integration, and lack of good governance. Both the national housing policy and the national urban sector policy mean to incorporate the urban poor, but they still face much discrimination. The rate at which eviction takes place in Dhaka indicates exclusion rather than inclusion. Between 1975 and 2002, more than 131  informal neighborhoods were evicted, with 58 evictions between 2003 and 2004 alone (Baten et al. 2011). Not only that, from 1996 to 2004, more than 290,000 poor people were made homeless due to 115 evictions in Dhaka, ­Chittagong, and ­Dinajpur (Baten et al. 2011). In Dhaka alone, at least 60,000 people were evicted from 27 informal neighborhoods between 2006 and 2008. Even during an era of democratic government, in August and September 2010, two huge evictions occurred in the Sattola and T&T colony adjacent to Korail (Baten et al. 2011). Approximately 2,000 households were evicted from Sattola with short notice, and in T&T colony adjacent area, 450 households were evicted just before the festival of Eid. In Sattola, houses, water supply systems, latrines, schools, mosques, and other buildings were destroyed when it was raining (Baten et al. 2011). In 2004, a large-scale eviction in Dhaka’s Bhashantek area demolished the homes of 3,300 families to make space for BRP Project, one of the neighborhoods of my research. In 2018, there was another eviction near the BRP, where more than 20,000 people lost their homes. Scholars argue that to provide inclusionary housing, the state must appropriate urban planning, regulate property rights, and include socio-political goals in the planning framework (Baten et al. 2011). These are absent in both these policies. These two documents did not present this exclusionary picture in the informal neighborhoods but concealed it. With the assistance of UNICEF, the government began implementing an informal neighborhood upgrading program in the mid-1980s including drain and sanitation construction. Many informal settlement improvement programs were

Who Governs the Dhaka City?  65 undertaken with international and national agencies, such as the World Bank and Asian ­Development Bank. Some NGOs supported informal neighborhoods improvements, including street lightening, disposal maintenance, sanitation, footpaths, and drains, but none of them solved the problem of housing (Mohit 2012; Siddiqui et al. 2000). In 1999, the government took another initiative, the “Ghore Fera” (back to home) program, which also failed to reduce rapid urbanization (Mohit 2012). These two policies have done a few things to improve informal neighborhoods. For example, the DCC has recognized the rights of the urban poor, and they implemented “Slum Improvement Programs” in three neighborhoods of Dhaka, with the collaboration of international agencies and NGOs. However, there are significant problems in reaching goals. Most programs that do exist are poorly implemented. For example, lack of disposal collection and maintenance of drains meant that the environment remained unhealthy. Second, there is still a mindset that poor people should leave the city; therefore, DMDP plans suggested shifting the poor residents from the city center to the periphery or encouraging them to return to rural areas. Moreover, there are continuing evictions, which make poor people homeless and more vulnerable. These plans and policies did not define who the urban poor were, what urban poor households were, or what constituted as an informal neighborhood, or even the types of informal economy in urban areas. National Policy for Safe Water Supply and Sanitation In 1998, the National Policy for Safe Water Supply and Sanitation was enacted. Further efforts concerning safe water and sanitation services included the National Strategy for Water Supply and Sanitation (2014), the National Sanitation Strategy (2005), the National Strategy for Water and Sanitation in Hard to Reach Areas of Bangladesh (2011), and Strategies for Water, Sanitation, and Cost-sharing for the Poor (2005). These were meant to ensure access to safe water and sanitation services at affordable cost. However, none of these policies directly target the urban poor. The policymakers did not produce a specific policy to provide adequate water supply and sanitation services to the urban poor despite the lack of water and sanitation services in informal neighborhoods. The policymakers specified objectives such as facilitating the access of all citizens to water supply and sanitation utilities, building capacity in local governments and communities to deal effectively with problems, taking measures for storage and use of rainwater, and ensuring stormwater drainage in urban areas. The policymakers suggest installing one sanitary latrine in each urban household, improving habits of proper latrine use and improving sanitary technology (GOB 1998b, 4–5). There is no specific mention of which agencies would implement these initiatives and who would monitor them. Ahmed and Ali (2006) argue for a tripartite partnership, which includes the public sector, the private sector, and citizens to facilitate solid waste management service delivery in Bangladesh; however, the policy says nothing on the issue. This type of partnership, however, exists in a few informal neighborhoods, such as Korail. I will discuss it in the following chapters.

66  Who Governs the Dhaka City? National Energy Policy There was no proposal to deliver affordable and reliable electricity service to the urban poor when the government launched a National Energy Policy in 1997. The renewed National Energy Policy of 2004, however, stated that one objective of the government was to ensure an available, affordable, and reliable supply of electricity to all citizens by 2020. There is, however, still no central organization to solve electricity problems in informal neighborhoods. The argument is that because residents of informal neighborhoods do not have authorized land or house ownership, they cannot access legal utility services. The government is hesitant to provide infrastructure to improve access to energy in urban poor neighborhoods, as it would be considered legitimizing informal settlements. To achieve the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) and a global target for universal energy access for all by 2030, many countries appear to have energy policies in place to promote electricity access (UN 2015). In light of this, the ­Bangladesh government explored the development status and impact of electricity access for the urban poor and identified the policy barriers hindering access to electricity among them (GOB 2004). Energy policies and programs in Bangladesh have predominantly targeted macro-economic growth, where the issue of the urban poor’s accessibility to electricity is absent. National Health Policy and National Urban Health Strategy Upon the formation of Bangladesh in 1971, it was decreed that of the Bangladeshi national health infrastructure was to serve the population of rural areas. Although secondary and tertiary hospitals were established in all cities, the number of public hospitals is negligible, considering the size and density of the cities. The provision of the primary health care is assigned to the local urban governments; however, there is no adequate budget allocated for it. The local governments have to wait for the decision and funding of the central government. They usually face a lack of properly trained employees, funding, manpower, and equipment. Most of the primary health services are contracted out by local governments to NGOs. The basic health services in Bangladesh treat common medical problems and refer those with other conditions better equipped hospitals, maternal and child health (including delivery), immunizations, and adolescent health care. In 2011, the Ministry of Health and Family Welfare published the first national health policy. The key objective was to ensure primary medical services for all citizens as per Section 15 (A) of the Constitution and improve people’s health and nutrition as per Section 18 (1). The second objective was to develop a system that ensured availability of health services by establishing community clinics for every 6,000 people (GOB 2011b). The key principles of this policy include equal distribution and optimal usage of available resources with a focus on the disadvantaged, poor and unemployed, to ensure availability of health information, to involve the people in planning, management, local fund raising, spending, monitoring, and review of health service delivery as part of the decentralization of the health system (GOB 2011b).

Who Governs the Dhaka City?  67 To ensure health care for the urban poor, an equitable health system, a healthy living environment, proper housing, and adequate water and sanitation are necessary. This policy, however, does not address the link between health and housing, water supply, and sanitation. There is also no discussion on how to simplify the health system or to make it accessible to the urban poor. The majority of the time, the city corporations are ill-equipped to provide the required services due to the lack of cooperation between the health ministry and city corporations. In 2014, under the pressure of civil society organizations, professional groups, and international agencies, the Local Government Division considered the demands of city residents for better health services. They prepared a national urban health strategy, which addressed the development of human resources, infrastructure for health care, strengthening partnerships and poverty reduction activities, interministerial and inter-departmental coordination, the improvement of databases and monitoring systems, decentralization of administration, and improvement of overall management in the urban health sector (GOB 2014a, 1). This strategy acknowledged the limitations of public health services and identified which sectors needed improvement. It also suggested that food, nutrition, housing, fuel, water, and physical environment were all related to urban health and should be taken into account during the preparation and implementation of urban activities. Although the urban sector strategy was more focused and goal-oriented than the national health policy of 2011, there were no direct guidelines on how to provide these services properly, which agencies would ensure their coordination, and who would improve the databases and monitor the systems. The World Bank (2018) identified two essential challenges to the provision of urban health service in Bangladesh. These were: (1) the lack of meaningful coordination between two central government agencies, e.g., the Health Ministry and the Local Government Division; (2) the inability of the urban health system to keep pace with the proliferation of informal neighborhoods. These ongoing problems ensure that health care remains beyond the reach of many of the urban poor (Afsana and Wahid 2013; Rashid 2009). National Policies for Education and Employment The government of Bangladesh has developed several national initiatives to promote inclusive education for all children. These include the national education policy of 2010 by the Ministry of Education. This policy emphasizes the inclusion of girls, children with special needs, children from ethnic communities, and other disadvantaged children, such as street children, in the educational system. Though the policy has recognized inclusive education as an approach to achieve the goals of education for all, it has paid little attention to facilitating inclusiveness into the world. For example, no effective steps have been taken to establish government schools in the poor neighborhoods. Although the policy proposes inclusive education for street children, most of them do not attend school because their families cannot afford it (Cameron 2010), and the policy does not possess any specific strategy to solve this problem. In the poor households in Dhaka’s informal neighborhoods, earning from child labor represents approximately a third of household

68  Who Governs the Dhaka City? income (Cameron 2010), compelling poor children to drop out of school. Thus, the children of poor families are discriminated against in every sphere of life, starting at birth. A low standard of living with inadequate services affects access to education and nutrition, health care, and future employment prospects. The numbers of government schools in Dhaka are negligible when compared to its population. According to Cameron, “even if there are fifty children in each class, two-thirds of the children would still be either out-of-school or using some other type of school-NGO, private for-profit, madrasa” (2012, 51). The girls of the informal neighborhoods face several challenges e.g., eve-teasing,2 sexual harassment, and early marriage. The government has introduced stipends to encourage girls to go to school, but the obstacles faced by girls from poor families have not been sufficiently addressed. There is no mention of specific steps to overcome these obstacles. The government has also formulated several labor policies since 2010, including the National Child Labor Elimination Policy 2010, the National Skills Development Policy 2011, the National Labor Policy 2012, the National Occupational Health and Safety Policy 2013, and the Domestic Workers Protection Welfare Policy 2015 (GOB 2010, 2011c, 2012a, 2013, 2015b). These policies address the needs of low-paid workers in the formal and informal sectors; however, none specifically mention steps to create employment opportunities for the urban poor, unemployment insurance, or a social security scheme. No policy mentions specific steps regarding injury benefits. The minimum wage policy has been inadequate in terms of protecting workers, especially in the informal sector. For example, the Ministry of Labor and Employment put forth the Child Labor Elimination Policy in 2010. To eradicate child labor, it identified several strategies, including offering stipends and grants (Norpoth et al. 2014). Child labor, however, is still prevalent in the informal sector. Parents’ employment can reduce the rate of child labor. It increases the rate of education and helps to form an efficient labor market, but no policy has addressed the child labor issue yet. It is hard for poor people to get government jobs without formal education, even in the lower-level state offices. The majority of poor parents are involved in informal businesses or labor markets that are saturated, competitive, insecure, low waged, and often hazardous. State representatives sometimes hinder the jobs or businesses they manage on their own initiative. For example, they encounter daily police harassment because of the lack of proper approval from city authorities. Although the rickshaw is a necessary form of public transport in Dhaka, the city corporations banned them in numerous city areas, rendering a sizeable number of rickshaw-pullers redundant. As a result, rickshaw drivers face harassment, including confiscation of rickshaws by the authorities, fines, and bribes. Street vendors and van drivers are similarly harassed for using streets or public space. Around 300,000 street vendors use Dhaka’s streets and other public spaces to sell their products (Etzold 2016, 2013), which city authorities consider illegal. Informal businessmen and women consistently face police harassment and mistreatment at the hands of government authorities, which results in economic loss. Many people employed in the private sector, such as factory workers and domestic helpers, also face obstacles. In the private sector,

Who Governs the Dhaka City?  69 their employment is not usually subject to a written formal contract; therefore, the workers may be fired anytime without notice, not paid on time, paid low wages, etc. Many female workers are underpaid and experience sexual harassment in the workplace. Policies are constantly changing but most use top-down approaches that do not pay adequate attention to the inclusion of poor urban residents. Bangladesh has many very forward-looking policies; however, they are not always put into practice. This is because of a lack of competence and resources. Many urban scholars believe that the lack of coordination among the ministries and departments is a significant reason for the exclusion of the urban poor (Huq 2014; Karim et al. 2017; Lata 2021). There is no specific discussion on how to overcome the limitations of local government, nor how to reduce the monopoly of the central government over the decisions, or how to coordinate among ministries and numerous policy makers, though many researchers consider it a significant obstacle to inclusion (Panday 2017). Haque (2007) found that the Dattapara resettlement project was expected to rehabilitate 5,000 families; however, the lack of coordination among different service providers ensured that the project remained incomplete. State Agencies This section discusses the profiles of the government agencies involved with service provision in Dhaka to develop an idea of their service delivery systems, capabilities, and processes. The primary goal of this book is to understand the level of inclusion/and exclusion of the poor residents of the two neighborhoods of Dhaka and their relationships with the service providers. Therefore, I introduce the representatives of state institutions most present in the area. These agencies are prominent, and they affect people’s daily lives and economies. Furthermore, I have explored whether they would follow the policies discussed above. RAJUK and Housing Provision

RAJUK (Dhaka Capital Development Authority) is a government organization under the Ministry of Housing and Public Works for urban planning and infrastructure and site development in Dhaka. It laid out plans for Dhaka, developed housing estates, parks, open spaces, recreation centers, roads, and industrial and commercial areas. It also approves building designs and construction plans under the Building Construction Act of 1952. One of RAJUK’s goals is to support improved housing possibilities for Dhaka residents. RAJUK acquires private or unoccupied government land for a nominal price because it is to be used for housing development. In 1960, RAJUK first developed the Gulshan Model Town, now the most affluent neighborhood in Dhaka. It later created several elite neighborhoods, including Banani Model Town, Baridhara Diplomatic Zone, Nikunja, Purbachal, and Uttora Model Town. RAJUK demolished the existing informal neighborhoods, evicted their residents, and built apartment complexes with the collaboration of private companies. These were then sold to buyers interested in purchasing a flat.

70  Who Governs the Dhaka City? Presently, it has developed many housing estates in Dhaka; however, given the cost, these are inhabited by the upper and upper-middle classes. It is clear from RAJUK’s emphasis on the middle and upper classes that these activities exclude the urban poor. In Dhaka, houses in informal neighborhoods are often built-in low-lying areas prone to flooding and without sufficient drainage to avoid waterlogging during rainy season floods (Baker and Reichardt 2007; CUS 2006). Several initiatives to provide government-sponsored housing at a subsidized and affordable price have been implemented to respond to the land and housing problem for the poor. However, these state produced housing projects are sometimes considered the government’s way to make a profit from the poor through high-interest loans (Taher 2001). The high value of land and flats excludes the urban poor from purchasing assets in the city. Consequently, it is estimated that 97% of the urban poor do not own any land (World Bank 2007, 35). The state has not used urban vacant land in Dhaka for the resettlement of the urban poor. Instead, this land is sometimes subject to land grabs by the wealthy. For example, there were 65 canals in Dhaka, which some 400 public and private individuals took for new settlements and business purposes; this included the district administration itself (Daily Sun 2017). The state evicted the urban poor who occupied this space but did not take legal action against influential persons. It is clear that the state favors elite powerful actors. The government has usually been more interested in promoting real-estate interests and the neoliberal corporate construction plans of developers rather than addressing the development of social infrastructure and the environment of the city. For example, the city authority did not properly maintain the Dhaka City Protection Embankment; therefore, a few politically influential and private investors built houses and shops on it, gradually damaging it. Even though state policy discourages forcible relocation, poor people are excluded from urban space through evictions. Bangladesh’s success in reducing poverty is threatened by forceful evictions that disrupt the poor, destroy livelihoods, uproot family integration, demolish economic activities and fixed capital, devastate socio-political linkages and safety networks, create psychological disturbances, exacerbate the housing deficit, and increase impoverishment (Islam and Mungai 2016; Rashid 2009). Dhaka Water Supply and Sewerage Authority

DWASA is a government agency under the Ministry of Local Government, Rural Development, and Cooperatives. In the Act of 1996, DWASA specified two categories of customers: residential and commercial/industrial. Those included exclusively live in legally tenured areas. DWASA’s rules and regulations state that it can provide connections only to houses that can demonstrate the legal status of their plots, which would include the possession of a house holding number from the city corporation. The majority of the informal neighborhood residents in Dhaka do not have legal documents or house holding numbers; therefore, they do not receive water and sanitation services from DWASA.

Who Governs the Dhaka City?  71 Accessing water in the informal neighborhoods in Dhaka is costly but very t­ime-consuming, physically demanding, and expensive (World Bank 2007). The water supply system is insufficient, and water quality and quantity are unsatisfactory in Dhaka’s informal neighborhoods (Rahaman et al. 2015; Rana 2011). In Korail, around 79% of respondents were not satisfied with the water availability (Biplob et al. 2011); however, this situation has changed since the DWASA water connected in 2013 through NGO network, which I will discuss in detail in Chapter 4. Scholars found that informal neighborhood dwellers of Dhaka spend nearly a quarter of their monthly income for utilities, which is more proportionate than what legal connection holders pay (Haque 2019; Rahman et al. 2015; Roy and Hulme 2013). Besides supplying water, DWASA is responsible for constructing, operating, maintaining, and providing sewage facilities. In informal neighborhoods, sanitation or garbage facilities are also unsatisfactory. Therefore, sewage and trash are released into the environment, which causes ecological damage and creates health hazards. Solid waste is often burned, emitting air pollution. For example, Korail’s trash is thrown into Gulshan Lake, which pollutes the water used as an informal water source. About 45.4% of informal neighborhoods do not have a fixed place to dispose of garbage, and 35.1% of them do not have any garbage collection system (CUS 2006). During the rainy season, the poor are most vulnerable to flood hazards, resulting in suffering. A small proportion of the urban poor (20%) use sanitary latrines and the majority use a variety of unhygienic latrines (CUS 1996). The DWASA has planned to implement the Dhaka Sewerage Master Plan 2011 under the Dhaka Sanitation Improvement Project with the support of World Bank (DWASA 2011). The primary goal was to improve the sanitation system in Dhaka city by 2035; however, it did not specify how DWASA’s sewerage networks would connect to the informal neighborhoods. Also, in this plan, informal neighborhoods’ toilet renovation was absent. Dhaka Electric Supply Company Limited

The Dhaka Electricity Company (DESCO) provides electricity to the northern part of Dhaka. The informal neighborhood dwellers cannot access legal electricity services as they do not possess legal documents for their land and are incapable of showing house ownership documents. The SDD in the city corporation office is meant to improve the infrastructure of the informal neighborhoods; however, to date, this department has not developed any relationship with service providers, through which these informal neighborhoods can get utilities (Lipu et al. 2013). This department has improved street lighting in the informal neighborhoods; however, there is no specific plan and program to improve energy access, such as lowcost electricity meters. The SDD department lacks funds; on the other hand, the service providers, such as DESCO, do not address the issue of providing services to the informal neighborhoods, thereby hindering their access to electricity. In the poor neighborhoods, if the people do not have access to adequate electrical power, their children will not be in a position to receive an education and they would be deprived of their productive work. However, in Dhaka’s informal

72  Who Governs the Dhaka City? neighborhoods, 96% of the population has access to electricity (Lipu et al. 2013). For example, Korail has 100% electricity access, but the connections are primarily informal, unsafe, and hazardous to health and the environment (Lipu et al. 2013). In the absence of formal connections, people connect the lines from the main roads or other sources through informal means, which puts them at risk and can lead to physical disaster (Aparajeyo 2005, 30). Titas Gas Transmission and Distribution Company Limited

Titas Gas Company is a central government-owned company run under the administrative control of the Ministry of Energy and Mineral Resources. One of the primary functions of Titas Gas office is to supply natural gas for cooking to citizens of different areas of Bangladesh, including Dhaka. Though the city residents receive unlimited gas service for a fixed payment per month from Titas Gas, the informal neighborhood residents do not have access to their services because of the lack of legal status. Around 40% have access to gas, although in most cases, this is through a risky informal connection (Aparajeyo 2005, 30). Lipu et al. (2013) stated that 58% of the urban poor have access to natural gas. It is understandable that many households in informal neighborhoods have informal gas connections, which pose a significant hazard to the residents. There is no national policy for delivering affordable, reliable gas services to poor urban neighborhoods. Conclusion This chapter was broadly divided into four sections. The first section discussed how the present-day structures of urban governance of Dhaka developed historically. I focused on growth and changes in urban structures over a long period, under the different regimes. Local powerful actors often created patron-client relationships with rulers, while common people often faced exploitation. This also discussed some of the strategies used by commoners to protect themselves. For example, when the muslin fabric industry declined in East Bengal after British deindustrialization and the famine of 1770, many workers returned to their villages and engaged in agriculture. During the Pakistan period, the people of East Pakistan organized multiple political movements against the West Pakistani rulers. The second section discussed how the new Bangladeshi government treated urban residents, especially those in informal neighborhoods. I discussed the present structure and policies of the central government, urban local governments, and the relationship between these levels. Although elected representatives administer urban local governments, the lack of legal status deprives the urban poor and limits the provision of local government services. The central government has control over the local government, which prevents the local representatives from operating independently. However, the urban poor have elected local representatives and become vocal in asserting their rights, building political networks, and forcing the government to formulate pro-poor policies.

Who Governs the Dhaka City?  73 The third section discussed some urban policies. These have been affected by international currents, Bangladeshi interests, and the interests of the poor. International pressure as well as the pressure of voters forced the policymakers to formulate these policies. The policies have been renewed several times over the last few years. For example, multiple housing policies have been formulated, and energy policies have been changed several times since 1996 when DWASA prepared three mega plans on water, sanitation, and drainage. Policymakers pledged to ensure “service for all,” even if many of these policies have not directly addressed the poor peoples’ needs. These policies emphasized public-private partnerships, which created alternative ways to provide services to poor neighborhoods. Some NGOs and CBOs with the support of other agencies implemented water and sanitation programs in poor neighborhoods through public-private partnerships (Hossain and Ahmed 2014). A group of scholars, however, found that the urban policy framework has neglected the needs and rights of the poor (Banks et al. 2011; Uddin et al. 2020). The last section of this chapter introduced several state agencies, their structures, and activities, important in informal neighborhoods. Notes 1 Mastaans as the muscle power of the central political leaders, in exchange for various benefits, including the illegal utility businesses in the area. They secure votes for the national leaders on one hand and control the neighborhood through this political network on the other. They are part of local leadership, but not all mastaans are local leaders and not all local leaders are mastaans. 2 Eve-teasing is a type of harassment of unwanted sexual comments by men aimed at a woman that takes place in a public place. It is usually degrading and intolerable for women.

3 Housing A Contested Avenue

One of the basic needs for any city resident is a place to live. However, for poor people, it can be challenging to find affordable and safe housing. In Dhaka, the challenge of urbanization is associated with housing. One in three city-dwellers lives in inadequate housing with no or few basic services, including a lack of tenure security (Rashid 2009). Most informal neighborhoods are characterized by low-quality housing, poor environmental conditions, overcrowding, poverty, and limited access to basic utilities and services. Therefore, housing is one of the most significant indicators of citizenship in the city, and housing quality is vital for the residents’ livelihoods. I organize this chapter, therefore, by considering access to housing first. In response to the housing problem of the poor, the Government of Bangladesh has taken initiatives to provide subsidized and affordable state-sponsored housing. These government housing projects, however, are sometimes considered the government’s way to make a profit from the poor through high-interest loans (Taher 2001). In this context, I compare the respondents from BRP and Korail since the two neighborhoods are different based on their legal housing status. The BRP offers state-sponsored formal living arrangements, whereas Korail has informal and voluntarily developed housing in which residents do not own legal housing. Korail is much larger than BRP in terms of population; it also covers a greater area. I discuss ownership patterns, affordability, quality of housing, etc., to understand housing inclusion. This chapter aims to explore the patterns and levels of housing inclusion of the respondents of the two neighborhoods. It also highlights the dimensions of the housing conditions of the two different neighborhoods. This chapter is divided into two sections. The first section illustrates the degree to which respondents are included. I look at inclusivity indicators in housing, including the legality, affordability, stability of tenure, and social networks. I also discuss different types of house ownership, financial conditions, and patterns of eviction, types of the deed (Figure 3.4), renters’ contracts, and quality of housing to understand these indicators. I also look at their satisfaction with their housing. The following section will address the obstacles that prevent access to housing and the exclusionary actions of the existing power structures. The conclusion summarizes the chapter. DOI: 10.4324/9781003414315-4

Housing: a Contested Avenue  75 Patterns of Housing Inclusion The main purpose of this section is to understand the patterns of housing structure among the two groups of respondents in Korail and BRP. The patterns of housing are related to diverse issues—from legal status to the financial conditions, eviction threats, access to utilities and services, social relations, and political networks. Before measuring housing inclusion through these indicators, I discuss the basic structures of housing and housing ownership of both neighborhoods. BRP had two types of flats based on size, smaller and larger; they generally correlated with socio-economic status because the larger flats were more expensive. The smaller flats were intended for the “slum dwellers,” primarily evictees from Bhashantek informal neighborhood. There are six buildings with smaller flats locally known as “Choto (small) flats” or “Bosti basir (slum dwellers’) flats”; each is 215 sq. ft. with one room and a bathroom and kitchen. The larger flats are 315 sq. ft. with two rooms and a bathroom and are locally known as a “Boro flats” (larger flats). The measurement of BRP documents shows that the toilet and kitchen sizes are 20.67 sq. ft., and 23.25 sq. ft., whereas the bedroom is 104 sq. ft. In both BRP and Korail, most respondents live in one-room flats; there is no privacy from children and extended family members. Many respondents said that they had to sleep next to their children and other relatives at night. Though the deeds provided by the Bangladesh government stated, “The owner has to live in one’s allotted flat, nobody permitted to rent out to others,” the ethnographic data showed many flats to be rented out. Although the evictees from Bhashantek rarely received apartments, some lived in BRP as tenants. It was convenient to work and children’s schools. Some residents had businesses such as general stores, shops, and mini hotels near this neighborhood, so they found it a good place to live, even with high rent.

Figure 3.1  BRP’s One-Room Flat with small Kitchen and Toilet Source: Fieldwork

76  Housing: a Contested Avenue Though the BRP respondents live in a legal housing project, they feel suffocated due to the flat’s small size (Figure 3.1). One of the reasons for this suffocation is that there is no balcony or terrace in the flat. Moreover, they are dissatisfied with the small size of their kitchens and toilets, though they had to share kitchens and bathrooms with others when they used to live in the old neighborhood. They said they were happy that they had individual kitchens and bathrooms; however, the tiny size of these rooms made them feel suffocated. Moreover, there is no balcony to dry clothes. Many respondents said that living in a one-room flat with their parents would be suffocating for the old parents. Since the buildings do not have elevators, it would be a challenge for the elderly to use the stairs every day. Some respondents said that although it could be helpful if their parents lived with them, their parents did not feel comfortable living in the same room. There is a common space in BRP near the stairs, but it lacks light and ventilation; therefore, this space has also become suffocating. There is no green space or park for the children, though the master plan suggested their installation. The distance between buildings is not enough for ventilation, and the narrow space creates diffused light and casts shades over pathways. Since the construction work had been discontinued for many years, people use this open space for their evening walks. Children can also play in this open space; however, they fear that once all the buildings are completed, there will be no more such open space.

Figure 3.2  Korail’s Houses on the Gulshan Lake Source: Fieldwork

Housing: a Contested Avenue  77 In Korail, out of four categories of houses, the two categories, e.g., pucca and semi-pucca, are of a permanent and semi-permanent nature (Figure 3.2). Semipucca houses have tin shed walls with roofs, while pucca structures have brick walls and concrete roofs. These two types together constitute approximately 53% of all dwelling units in Korail. Among the Korail respondents, many (39%) live in semipucca houses. The remaining 47% are kutcha and jhupri, or of temporary construction, which has a wall and roof made of bamboo, wood, leaves, etc. Most of them are hanging houses on the lakes of Gulshan and Banani. Among them, 35% live in kutcha houses with teen shed roofs; however, nearly 12% of the Korail respondents live in jhupris, which is usually made of bamboo, plastic, mud-bricks, polythene, board, scraps, walls, or thatch/straw/bamboo roofs that are more fragile than the semi-pucca and kutcha housing structure. Some wrap their housing with plastic bags for lack of housing materials; others, like influential house owners, belong to an entirely different social stratum and build pucca buildings. Some respondents reported that there are some problems regarding the physical conditions within these houses, such as lack of enough space, insufficient light, holes in the walls, no windows, and no private space. Therefore, there is no cross-­ventilation and daylight within the room, and outdoor space is also insufficient. During monsoon season, water pours through leaking roofs, and the floor becomes damp. Semi-pucca units were gradually replacing the temporary housing structures of Korail. According to Mohima, “This may be since some people gradually improved their socio-economic condition and some became politically powerful, and through this connection, they improved their housing.” The house types, however, remained the same for those who have neither extra money nor political power. Korail residents also use areas outside their houses. There is an outside multi-use space in the courtyard that includes bathrooms and kitchens. There are some communal spaces for all the residents of the house. Most of the time, the courtyard includes a tube well, shower space, and areas for washing clothes and dishes, etc. A house owner can live in one or two rooms and rent out the other rooms of the house. Both the owner and the tenants share the water pipe/tube well area, toilet, and kitchen. There is not enough space in the backyard or veranda for ten families to dry clothes. In contrast, the BRP residents do not need to share with other families, as each possesses a separate flat with an attached kitchen and toilet, though they also do not have any backyard or veranda to dry clothes. In Korail, there was no closed bathroom for showers. Women had to take a shower in an open space, which they also used for washing dishes and clothes, and collecting water. Therefore, women do not have any privacy from neighbors and passersby. Five to six women were always waiting in a queue to use the kitchen. Approximately 90% of the Korail respondents share a single toilet with other families. Even many house owners share a common toilet with their tenants. Around 21% of the Korail respondents shared rooms with other families to reduce housing costs. Thus, by using a single space for multipurpose tasks, the Korail residents can maximize their space. However, the BRP flats are structurally stronger and more secure than the Korail houses. Due to the wide range of economic and political backgrounds of Korail residents, there are diverse housing patterns. Comparatively

78  Housing: a Contested Avenue well-off people possess more structurally strong housing than the poor people in Korail. On the other hand, the infrastructure of all the flats in BRP is the same. The respondents of both neighborhoods suffered from space crises. Four characteristics were used to measure housing inclusion. These are legality, affordability, stability of tenure, and social networks. Legality is likely to mean more inclusion because the possession of a legal lot and residence reflects recognition of citizenship. Affordability of housing suggests more inclusion because it allows people to do other things besides just live; stability of tenure suggests more inclusion because it provides people a more stable and secure life. There will be legal protection against forced evictions, harassment, and other threats. Social networks suggest more inclusion because they help construct viable social relationships with extended family members, relatives, friends, and more powerful actors. If people can ensure these criteria, their livelihoods, and the city’s governance can change, especially in cases where inequality is present. Legality

Legality plays a role in housing inclusion. In the city, access to legal land is a fundamental factor in fostering inclusion. Residents of informal neighborhoods may be unhappy with government policies, as these groups did not participate in the development of regulations. Therefore, I hypothesize that poor residents consider themselves lower level when they are not part of the legal process. The lack of coordination among state agencies and informal practices results in various types of land tenure. BRP is a state-produced formal housing project, with legally recognized units and deeds for the individual flat. A private development company constructed this project on the Bhashantek informal neighborhood site. This project was created, using a top-down approach; it was prepared by bureaucrats, architects, engineers, consultants, but the residents were not consulted about their needs. In contrast to BRP, Korail is an informal housing structure developed spontaneously like other informal neighborhoods of the city. Due to the lack of legal status of Korail neighborhood, although no one owns the land on which their houses are built, residents do own houses; they are house owners, and people who do not own houses become tenants. Among them, some house owners make money through house rents and other businesses. They also can occupy more space through political networks or muscle power. Those who could not extend land horizontally due to the lack of space sometimes improved their housing unit vertically (Figure 3.3). Although the Korail land belongs to the government, many house owners have invested money to build multi-storied buildings and rent them. Some 14% of the respondents possessed a pucca building, which is an indicator locally of a wealthy household. Respondents reported that local leaders politically affiliated with national political leaders and big brothers filled up the lakeside with garbage, sand, and rubbish, to create land, and then constructed rooms to rent. However, many house owners who can invest in permanent building are afraid to do so in the absence of legality. When I asked how a house is bought or sold in the absence of legal ownership,

Housing: a Contested Avenue  79 many house owners reported that it was through word of mouth. Some d­ ocuments would be signed between buyers and sellers in the presence of community leaders, although these papers were not considered valid by the DNCC. Despite the risk of eviction, houses are regularly bought and sold in Korail because of its prime location. Moreover, people can easily buy and sell land, as there are not many formalities. Local leaders are influential local political figures who manage the neighborhoods and maintain connections with political leaders and government officials. Some respondents said that they had been residing in Korail for 40 years without legal status or documents; they were capable of remaining through the indirect support of the state authorities. They used to hold the monopoly on informal housing and could dictate their own terms and conditions, including monthly rent and land price. Korail respondents said that ten years back, the lack of legality meant the local goons or mastaans could claim any empty land, build houses, and rent them out, and even resell them to others by showing off their muscle power. In the absence of legal documents, the relatively powerful local goons used to occupy the houses of the ordinary house owners. The BRP flat owners do not have scope to extend their flats or make any structural changes due to strict regulations, whereas the Korail owners can extend their houses vertically or horizontally. Although BRP flat owners enjoy more inclusive housing facilities than Korail due to their legal status, the Korail owners experience more freedom as they are not governed and surveilled by a formal authority. As

Figure 3.3  Vertically Extended Houses in Korail Source: Fieldwork

80  Housing: a Contested Avenue their houses and utilities do not have legal status, they are not obliged to comply with building regulations. If they get a few square feet of space around their home yard, they can expand the houses. Therefore, there is no clear distinction between house compound-communal and public-communal spaces in Korail due to lack of open space. A house owner acquires social authority alongside economic advantages. To hold on to the establishment built on an unsanctioned land and to use the utilities, the house owner must acquire preeminence or adhere to more powerful people. Although the land is not legally theirs, as long as the government does not dismantle it, the house owner stays and so does one’s house. Sometimes influential owners would push neighbors to sell their homes; sometimes they would occupy the land if they got the chance, especially during government changes or after fires. Ordinary people can be dispossessed in this way because they lack formal papers and legal status. Here, threats or use of force can be used to dispossess people of property they do not hold legally in the first place. The lack of a legal address ensures the Korail residents cannot register their houses, which prevents them from getting formal utility connections and other services. A house holding number, received from the city corporation after submitting legal documents, usually determines the legal address. The lack of legal documentation of their housing ensures their inability to receive a legal housing address. In contrast, BRP residents have a legal housing address as they live in a formal housing project. However, many of them were not aware of the legality since they were not involved in the decision-making when rules and regulation were adopted. Respondents also said that though they were flat owners, they did not have any control of their own housing project. The BRP management practiced authoritative power over flat owners and tenants. Both owners and tenants had to stay submissive due to this formal housing governance. Therefore, the residents do not understand what home ownership entails—especially when it is in a cooperative format, which is governed by bureaucratic rules and regulations. Moreover, residents of BRP stated that although they were “legal,” their housing identity has been “housing for slum dwellers.” Many respondents said that because of this identity, their teenage children often preferred to disguise their home address at school. In Korail, respondents thought that the lack of legal status of their neighborhood led to police harassment, coercion to pay bribes, and denial of the protection of the law. Korail respondents preferred to approach informal judicial local bodies, instead of going to the police. Mainul said, When the rich and powerful citizens who live in affluent neighborhoods commit crimes, they are seldom punished; when the residents of Korail, in their poverty, frustration, and hopelessness, fall into gambling or addiction, the police come within a short time and arrest them quickly. If someone from Korail goes to the police custody, due to the lack of legality, the police harass them at the maximum level. BRP respondents, however, revealed that the rate at which they had to face police harassment is now somewhat lower in legal housing than in the old neighborhood.

Housing: a Contested Avenue  81 Affordability

Affordability is an indicator of inclusion because it allows people to enjoy other human rights besides just living. I wanted to know how much housing costs and how much people had for other needs such as food and other goods. For most residents, housing is their biggest and regular expense. Housing costs required a fixed amount per month, whereas people could reduce spending on food or other expenses if they needed to. Respondents were asked about their monthly income and housing cost. I investigated if someone felt obligated to pay a set amount for rent and if they could budget for food or other costs such as child’s school fees, doctor’s fees, and travel expenditures. Housing inclusion is achieved when housing costs are affordable and do not jeopardize people’s lives due to financial constraints. The majority of the respondents of both neighborhoods reported that one of the main obstacles to inclusion was the lack of housing finance. Although more than 300 Bhashantek evictees had received flats in BRP through the lottery in 2012, many could not afford to pay the monthly installments. Most of the respondents of both neighborhoods reported that the primary obstacle to achieving housing inclusion was the lack of finance and individual savings due to poverty. After spending more than 25–30% of their income on their housing, other expenses, including food and utilities were unaffordable. If a person received a flat in the first phase of the project, a buyer needed to deposit 10,000 taka (US$94), and then pay a 1,666 taka (US$16) monthly installment. This might not be possible for many poorer families struggling to make ends meet. It was expected that a significant number of evictees would be allotted flats after the Ministry of Land took responsibility for the project during the second phase. On the contrary, many respondents said that it became more impossible to buy a flat as the Ministry doubled prices. In BRP, affordability was as important as a political network to get a flat. Many people in Korail have become house owners because of their political power, muscle power, economic capability, and local authority position. In both neighborhoods, a house/flat owner acquires social authority alongside economic advantages, since house ownership is the fundamental building block that enables the residents to access other services and to build assets. Affordability depends on other factors such as the availability of house loans from banks or other organizations and the cost of housing materials. Poor people did not have access to the housing finance market, including private corporations and state organizations. For example, the Bangladesh House Building Finance Corporation does not have scheme to provide housing finance for the poor residents of informal neighborhoods, as it funds formal mortgage finance only. Respondents reported that in the absence of state housing services, NGO support for housing is the only source of financial assistance. NGOs only provided housing finance through microcredit programs, but these were rare. The reasons given by an NGO official included fears of eviction and the frequency of residents’ mobility. Some respondents reported that although many NGOs operated microcredit programs for small business in Bhashantek, very few provided loans for housing. The respondents also said that they had no access to formal bank loans because they do not

82  Housing: a Contested Avenue possess collateral. If the Bhashantek evictees received a housing loan from the bank or NGOs, they would have been able to buy flats in the BRP. In Korail, many tenants said that if they get housing finance from any source, they could buy a room, and they would not have to pay so much rent. In the case of tenants, housing affordability is also complex. Smaller flats might rent out from 6,000–7,000 taka (US$56–65), which is higher than the monthly installment, and larger flats rent for 8,000–10,000 taka (US$75–94). In Korail, the regular monthly income of all the respondents ranged from approximately 3,000  taka (US$28) to 25,000 taka (US$234), although a few influential house owners, linemen, and local leaders earned more than 40,000 taka (US$374). Respondents who lived in small flats in the BRP had a monthly income of around 10,000 taka (US$94), while larger flat respondents had an income of over 28,000  taka (US$262). In BRP, the small flat owners or tenants had to earn at least ­10,000–12,000 taka (US$94–112) per month as they had to pay house rent of least 6,000–7,000 taka (US$56–65) excluding utilities. Some respondents said that sometimes if the income was less than 10,000 taka (US$94), they borrowed money from friends or acquaintances to pay rent. Although the evictees from ­Bhashantek rarely received apartments, they lived in BRP as tenants. It was convenient to workplaces and children’s schools. Therefore, they found it a good place to live, even with high rent. They said that their cost of living, including rent, almost doubled compared to the old neighborhood. However, in the case of the tenants, the scenario in Korail is different. There is more diversity among Korail tenants than BRP tenants. BRP is more affluent than Korail because there is no cheap housing in BRP. Korail possesses more economic diversity. Among the Korail tenants, those who are economically capable could rent a pucca room with brick walls and concrete roofs equivalent to ­5,000–7,000 taka (US$47–56); again who are not financially capable could rent a jhupri for 1,200 taka (US$11) and a hanging room on the lake for 1,500–2,000 taka ­(US$14–19). Someone could rent a semi-pucca room with tin shed walls with roofs for 3,000–4,000 taka (US$28–37). As I discussed before, those with a monthly income higher than 10,000 taka (US$94) per month, can afford to rent in BRP. However, people of different incomes can inhabit in Korail due to different ranges of house rent. In both neighborhoods, a house/flat owner can become a tenant due to lack of affordability. Some people lost houses because of the need to pay loans, poverty, drug addiction, gambling, and so on. For example, Yusuf lost his house because he could not repay a loan. Rizia, Yousuf’s wife said that when her husband took a loan from a powerful moneylender, the lender would seize the land if he could not repay the loan. Rizia now lives in a jhupri and occasionally moves to the sidewalk when she is unable to pay the jhupri’s rent. Similarly, some BRP flat owners were forced to sell their flats when they could not pay. Family is a vital social and economic institution in both BRP and Korail. In Korail, families employed various strategies to afford a house such as saving money from each family member’s earnings to pay the rent, living with extended members, etc. Many Korail respondents stated that their ability to pay for housing

Housing: a Contested Avenue  83 is contingent on the presence of extended family members. Many respondents stated that their extended family members, such as their spouses’ parents, siblings, or other relatives, provided them with much support. They assess the income of all family members in households where children or extended family members are also involved in income-generating activities. If several family members work, they could afford the rent by sharing expenses; however, due to space constraints, few extended family members were found in BRP. In Korail, the highest number of respondents, 43%, belongs to extended families, while 11% of the BRP respondents belong to extended families, which indicates that the larger families live in the Korail. Numerous BRP respondents said that when they lived in Bhashantek, extended family members lived with them and took care of their children, especially when both parents worked. The BRP respondents experienced higher housing and utility costs after moving to project, which made things difficult. In Korail, many respondents reported that extended family members often contributed to the household budget. Some families had joint accounts where everyone contributed a portion of their salary to the rent. Both Sajeda’s in-laws lived with them in a single room; however, they also worked. Her three children now attend school, while her mother-in-law does the housework: cooking, washing clothes, cleaning, etc. They preferred to live together with extended family members as they considered it a survival strategy to reduce poverty. Another resident, Laily, receives financial support and household work from her parents in Korail. Without her parents’ support, she and her husband would not be able to raise their children. She rented a house next to her mother’s so that her mother could babysit her children when she and her husband were at work away from home. Laily’s father financially helped her husband to establish a tea stall. Later, they started to live together in a same room to reduce housing costs. At night, Laily assists her husband at the tea stall until midnight, as it remained open 24 hours a day. When I stayed in Korail one night, I saw Laily go to bed with her children. Her mother came to the stall to help her son-in-law. When I inquired as to how long she would be working, she responded that she would work up to 4 a.m. She worked during the night with her son-in-law, but during the day when Laily was at work, she would take care of her grandchildren. The extended family helped them to continue their business and livelihood. In Korail, most extended family members played a role in the household economy in this way. Though most lived together in a single room, some resided next door, if they could afford two rooms. In contrast, renting two flats in BRP would be problematic owing to high rents. Stability of Tenure

Tenure security enables people to access other services and develop income-­ generation activities. Tenure security is a part of housing inclusion. Stable housing tenure allows residents to engage in social and political activities, and fulfill other citizenry rights, including the right to an adequate standard of living, to hold property, to occupy and enjoy, to be free from domination, and freedom of expression. Therefore, stable tenure is related to other rights and is attached to services

84  Housing: a Contested Avenue and other housing facilities. In this section, I discuss whether tenure security brings social cohesion and stability for the residents in Dhaka. In both BRP and Korail, tenure conditions are different for owners and tenants. Among the BRP respondents, there were nine flat owners and nine tenants, whereas in Korail, out of 72 respondents, 24 were house owners, and the other 48 were tenants. My discussion will be into two parts: house owners and tenants, since tenure stability may affect housing inclusion of these two groups differently. Do tenants and owners have different experiences due to different types of tenure stability? How do they face eviction and dispossession by different actors? Owners There are the same two categories in each neighborhood – influential vs. ordinary owners. Some people own rental properties in addition to their own houses. In BRP, some respondents were leaders in the Bhashantek neighborhood, active in local party politics and on the political committees. Among them, some flat owners possessed multiple flats and were politically powerful. Respondents reported that a businessman with a political background owned eight flats in different buildings; however, he sold some of them after the media reported on it. Moreover, these owners usually had a cordial relationship with the BRP management. Some flat owners had to reach informal agreements with BRP management because they are renting flats informally; therefore, they had to abide by any decision or accept corrupt practices from BRP management. However, some flat owners are protesters. For example, some members of the BRP flat owners’ association were vocal against the corruption of the BRP authority. They were also politically connected, although not as much as the previous two. I considered them influential flat owners, as they influenced the BRP authority in many ways, which I will discuss in the following chapters. There are some differences between the owners in the two neighborhoods, especially regarding the stability of security. For example, BRP’s flats are legally allotted to the flat owners, whereas Korail’s house owners do not have legal tenure, which puts them in fear of mass eviction. Though the houses of influential leaders are more stable than those of the poor in Korail, the fear of state-sponsored eviction affects everyone, as nobody in Korail has legal documents. In BRP, due to the cooperative system and formal regulations, all owners have legal documents, common areas, and the land upon which the building is sited. Even though Korail local leaders or BRP flat owners are in a more comfortable position to access housing, data shows that all Korail respondents and 61% of the BRP respondents were worried about the stability of tenure. BRP respondents said that since it is a formal housing project, there have been no instances of forcible flat occupation yet. Even then, many BRP respondents often spend their days amid eviction threats by local goons due to protest the corruption of the BRP office, although they are legal owners and make regular housing payments. They were threatened with the cancelation of their ownership due to organizing or participating in the collective protest against the BRP office authority.

Housing: a Contested Avenue  85 However, some respondents of the BRP were ordinary flat owners. They were not as focused on influencing the project authority. They were not satisfied with the flats they received; however, they did not possess the time and willingness to protest. They live in their allotted flats and are never involved in local politics. In Korail, there are three types of influential house owners: (1) those who live alongside their tenants in the same house compound, (2) those who used to live in Korail, but have sent families (and sometimes themselves) to better areas, (3) those who never lived in Korail, but have always been absentee landlords. Generally, the socio-economic gulf between the legal city residents and informal neighborhood residents is so wide that it is clearly discernible from a distance. However, Korail does not follow this trend at all. The first group of influential house owners lives in the same house compound with tenants. Most of them live here for their own security. As the entire neighborhood is unlawful, powerful groups or individuals can rob or occupy land or rooms by force or by intimidation. If the occupiers belong to the government party, the house owner can do nothing but watch. In Korail, a land occupier can build a house with one room or more. The number of rooms depends on the size of the land acquired and the economic strength of the individual. For example, a few house owners own 30–40 rooms in different house compounds in Korail. Most of them have bigger houses and more rental units and also control the neighborhood. These are the influential house owners referred to in the book. The majority of them were engaged in informal service provision; they supplied housing and utilities to other residents at a high cost. They were capable of building and maintaining close relationships with external actors such as state officials, NGOs, political party leaders, big brothers, DNCC officials, and the police. Ten respondents belonged to this group. Though these house owners did not own the land legally, they had enough power to be considered influential personalities in the socio-political domain. Some house owners do not work outside as their main income is from rents, whereas others engage with informal service businesses. Some engage with politics, and others are shop or restaurant owners in the Korail bazaars. The second group of house owners choose to reside here because of their ties to local leadership, even if they have sent the rest of their family to a wealthy neighborhood. For example, Majid’s family lives in Mohakhali. Hasib can afford to send two of his children, a son, and a daughter, to private universities. There is a third group of house owners who, despite drawing their profits from the neighborhood, do not live there. For example, some house owners’ family members reside in affluent neighborhoods like Mohakhali, Badda, and even Gulshan. In this case, some owners appoint caretakers who supervise the tenants and collect rent money on their behalf; however, they frequently visit Korail to hold their position as house owners. The absentee landlords are mostly T&T office colony staff who have built rooms to rent out. Because these absentee landlords maintain an interest in Korail, many respondents reported that whenever the Korail residents protested Korail evictions, the T&T colony staff aided them from behind the scenes, contributing to a successful demonstration. Many of the T&T colony staff own around 10–12 houses at Korail, from which they collect a hefty rent. Therefore,

86  Housing: a Contested Avenue

Figure 3.4  A Deed of BRP Flat Source: Fieldwork

they remain vigilant about what happens in Korail. Besides these influential homeowners, there are some ordinary house owners in Korail. Among the 24 house owners, 14 respondents belong to this group. This group possesses less than ten rooms and some have only one or two rooms, whereas influential house owners have more than 10–40 rooms. They often have political affiliations but may not be as active in

Housing: a Contested Avenue  87 party politics. Each of them has taken loans from NGOs to improve a house, and many developed good relationships with local NGO offices. Korail respondents experienced different obstacles to stability, including government-­sponsored mass eviction and the action of the state agencies. Respondents reported that government-sponsored mass eviction was violent and brutal, as the evicted were incapable of preserving their property and livelihoods. Informants said that their water supply was cut off, and they were not offered relocation. Around 26% of the Korail respondents reported that they might be okay for the time being, but they were afraid that if the government planned to construct a development project here, they might be evicted. Approximately 60% of the respondents said that they might be evicted at any time. Respondents stated that there were some house owners who were forcibly displaced from their houses at least five times in the last 20–25 years. Reasons why a house owner may be forcibly displaced include fire, political revenge by another faction, or bankruptcy, especially if one needs to repay a loan. Other sorts of dispossession occur often in Korail, causing house owners to lose their homes. When the AL party came to power in 2009, the local leaders of that party dispossessed some of the houses in Korail and occupied the houses or lands under guise of political leaders. A similar episode occurred here on 10 October 2001, when the BNP formed the government. Sometimes, ordinary house owners lost their land because of clashes between the local leadership of the two fractions. In both cases, ordinary house owners were dispossessed because they did not hold legal titles in the first place. Second, this is linked to the national power politics and political parties, which will be presented in Chapter 6. Many respondents said that land grabbing by powerful local leaders in Korail was an obstacle to inclusion for poorer residents. The respondents shared several fraudulent experiences with which the police were involved. Jahid indicated in his interview that there was a conspiracy, These local goons are powerful and excluded poor people like me. I had a house with two rooms, but the police demolished them in the name of eviction. They claimed that I occupied a lakeside road. As I do not have more economic or political power, I became homeless and slept under the Mohakhali Bridge. A few months later, I came back again to Korail, got a space beside the lakeside road, and made a jhupri, but powerful people evicted me again. However, some of my neighbors who had good networks with political leaders rebuilt their houses on the other side of Korail, but I was not able to do that. I went to local political leaders who did not even bother to listen to my problem. Instead, they were busy grabbing the vacant land and renting it to us at a high price. Jahid’s experience indicates that goons were not spared eviction when an area was subject to it, but after the eviction drive, they received further assistance. Many respondents said that land grabbing was to maintain the dominance of the local leaders. To maintain this dominance, one leader occupies the land of another leader. There have been clashes between the two groups and even murders because

88  Housing: a Contested Avenue of this land grabbing. As a result, ordinary residents lost their homes, and many fled the area in fear. Many survive amid this struggle. According to the respondents, in Korail, who will vacate the land and occupy it, and who will survive depends on having networks with powerful actors such as party leaders and the police. Those who do not have networks with powerful actors, like Jahid, cannot survive as a house owner. This kind of land grabbing is conducted under the shadow of the political leaders of the government party. With the change of government, their power also decreased, and the goons of other parties took over a significant land. Korail respondents also mentioned another type of eviction, by fire. Fires have occurred often in Korail. During interviews, many Korail respondents also asked me why there were so few fires in other areas of the city, only in the informal neighborhoods. Most of the respondents stated that fire is a part of the mass eviction process, whether the city authorities or local goons do it. These numerous fires not only destroyed their houses and livelihoods, but also evicted many poorer families. Approximately 89% of the Korail respondents said that the primary motivation behind the fires was eviction. They consider fires in and of themselves as a barrier to inclusion. After the fires, many affected families lost everything, including housing and livelihoods, which evicted them from the neighborhood (Figure 3.5). Sometimes, the respondents suspected that the city authorities deliberately instigated fires as a means of eviction. The respondents suspected on the occasion that the fires were the result of sabotage. Although there is a reason behind every fire, there is no

Figure 3.5 Holding the Boundary after a Fire: People Do Not Move from Their Home Boundaries, as They Are Afraid of Losing Their Space and Boundary Source: Fieldwork

Housing: a Contested Avenue  89 investigation into these causes. Respondents said that the city administration had taken no precautionary measures. Many Korail respondents reported that their children were unable to attend school, even after they had been admitted, because the fire had taken away everything including their jobs. Many shopkeepers lost everything.

Figure 3.6  An Application for BRP Flat Ownership Source: Fieldwork

90  Housing: a Contested Avenue Though many respondents believed that the fires were the result of sabotage, some respondents have reported that the infrastructural condition of Korail houses was also responsible for fires. For example, houses are in close proximity. Many are constructed from flammable materials such as bamboo, paper, and timber; if a house catches fire due to carelessness, it can spread instantly. The house owners, who possess socio-political networks with powerful actors, such as local leaders, rebuilt the houses through loans from leaders and NGOs. If the house owners do not possess connections or the financial ability to rebuild, they sometimes sell the land at a meager price and return to the village. In BRP, some respondents reported that they might be evicted due to fires, though their modern housing project is more secure than the Korail. They said that the BRP office would cancel their ownership if their flat caught fire. Since the project office was not happy with them for many reasons, the office would find an excuse to cancel their ownership. An official of Land Ministry said in response to such allegations that the BRP office did not have the power to cancel ownership, but office staff might have made such threats to control the residents of the project. The owners got their flats by following the rules like filling up an application from the Ministry of Lands (Figure 3.6). Although there are differences between the two neighborhoods in terms of formal and informal housing, structure, and status, there are some similarities between the experiences of the residents in terms of eviction threats. While many BRP respondents face eviction threats from the BRP office and flat owners, the Korail respondents are afraid of being evicted by three types of influential actors: state agencies, house owners, and local goons. Tenants Tenants in both neighborhoods are locally known as varaitta in Bangla. Tenants usually connected with house owners through former acquaintances, neighbors, and relatives. In Korail, the house renting process is not scrutinized like BRP. In the case of BRP, the rent is set after obtaining information regarding the tenants. This is infrequently practiced in Korail, however. For example, several tenants said they received housing without providing information about themselves because they could pay a deposit. The tenants’ security depends on the tenant-owner relationship in Korail; however, in BRP, tenants must maintain good relations with the owners and the office to stabilize security. Therefore, BRP tenants have the extra burden of maintaining two different groups, the office management and flat owners. The BRP tenants are not legal tenants; therefore, they must comply with the conditions of these two groups. This is so that the tenants can issue no complaints. If a tenant violates this condition, they risk eviction. The nine tenants (50%) of BRP do not consider themselves included. Those who moved from the Bhashantek neighborhood said that they had been excluded three times, once from their own houses, then when they were deprived of flats in BRP, and now, they live in BRP in exchange for paying rents without contract documents. Moreover, the owners are not allowed to rent their allotted flats to others; even though many have done so. Tenants who live in the BRP accept this reality; therefore, they do not possess the opportunity to speak about tenant rights. As a result, no formal agreement is exchanged between the flat owner and the tenant, as the process of renting is

Housing: a Contested Avenue  91 invalid. Moreover, there is a fear of eviction at any point, either by the owners or the BRP office. In Korail, some tenants have a higher income than their landlords. Humayon, for example, had a higher monthly salary than his house owner. Knowing the renters’ monthly income allowed me to understand their economic capabilities better. People who pay their rent and utilities on time every month are more favored by their landlords and have a longer tenure. Therefore, those who pay rent on time and maintain a good relationship with the owner can be placed at the top of the ranking on tenure security in this context. On the other hand, at the bottom of the ranking may be those who are often late or unable to pay rent or face various problems, such as deteriorating relationship with the owner, inability to pay utility bills, taking drugs, having too many people in one room. Some Korail residents have lived here more than 20 years, whereas others arrived only a few weeks before fieldwork. Their primary intention is to live temporarily in Dhaka and do their best to earn a living. Many would prefer to buy land or invest in their home villages. Most of them said they did not want to waste money buying a house to be dispossessed without warning. Many try to avoid interactions with more powerful actors. If they need a certificate from the DNCC, they approach local leaders to get the approval or attestation from the ward commissioner. For this service, they pay bribes, but they do not necessarily become regular clients of the leader. Many have taken loans from NGOs at different times; therefore, there is a kind of financial relationship with the NGOs. Some respondents considered floating. They might rent a room when they have money, but when they have none, they create a temporary jhupri from polythene, often situated on the side of the road or in an open space. Since many Korail house owners live in the same compound with tenants, they are the main guardian/authority, whereas the flat owners mostly do not live in BRP. The BRP tenants considered it an advantage because, in many cases, there is no freedom when the owner lives in the same building. During interviews and focus group discussions, the majority of the Korail tenants reported that the house owners were their authority because the house owners were primarily responsible for the utilities. In the BRP, the BRP office has authority over flat owners and tenants. There was often an inter-personnel relationship between Korail house owners and their tenants. For example, some house owners who are informal service providers engage their tenants in their line businesses. Among the 48 Korail tenants, 22 said that sometimes they assisted their house owners in their businesses. The other 21 tenants said that they just paid their rent and led relatively separate lives. In Korail, however, tenants often spoke about the relationship between the house owners and the tenants as this relationship affects tenure stability. When a tenant rents a room, he or she needs to discuss the terms and conditions only with the landlord. The tenant does not have any liability to anyone else in Korail as far as the housing is concerned. The house owner-tenant relationship, therefore, is a very important aspect of the relationships among Korail residents. Interviews with the house owners suggested that they try to maintain a good relationship with the tenants as they believe the tenants would be the first people who would come to their

92  Housing: a Contested Avenue aid if they needed, or if the housing infrastructure was at risk during eviction or fire. They try to encourage a sense of responsibility to protect the household. Some house owners reported that they considered their tenants as clients. They would not have a business without clients. On the other hand, tenants usually said that they would first approach the house owners to seek help in times of need or crisis. Both the house owners and the tenants are interested in building a good relationship. As the tenants and house owners have migrated from rural areas and found a refuge in this neighborhood, there is a unified desire to save their housing and the community by organizing resistance against the city authorities. Moreover, the house owners in Korail understand that they can neither save their neighborhood nor gain the stability of tenure without a cooperative attitude. They informed me that both house owner and tenants need a strong relationship to gain stability of tenure. Zamila, a Korail tenant, states, We are tenants. In the very beginning, our owner used to show off his authority. But six months later when a bulldozer snuck in our area, my husband resisted and was able to stop the eviction with the help of others. After that incident, our owner became very friendly with us. In fact, all the house owners are much more communicative with their tenants nowadays. There are 10 families living in his house including mine. Subsequently, our owner has realized that these ten families would be the first to prevent the bulldozer trying to raze his house to the ground if ever it showed up again. Like Zamila, many respondents said that though the house owner-tenant relationship was similar to the patron-client relationship in the days gone by, these patronclient ties are like a pendulum that swings within the milieu of complex social relations. However, this link varies from person to person and also depends on circumstances. Some respondents, for example, stated that they had an excellent connection with house owners. Other times, tenants run away without paying rent due to poverty, and the house owners, vice versa, can evict any tenant without prior notice if they relationship deteriorates. The house owner-tenant relationship in Korail is much more independent than the BRP, as most BRP tenants have to stay submissive. It is difficult to get accurate information regarding house owners and the number of tenants in Korail, as there are no legal documents. In BRP, it is also difficult to get the actual number of flat owners and tenants. BRP tenants have to hide their identity, though it is an open secret. In BRP, the tenants initially introduced themselves to me as the flat owners; however, many later acknowledged they were tenants and were obliged to hide their identity. Although BRP is a legitimate structure compared to Korail, the Korail tenants are more independent than BRP tenants in terms of tenant-owner relations and the relationship with the owner in Korail is much more open and flexible. Unlike BRP residents, they do not need to hide their identity from outsiders. This type of hidden identification reveals the tenure insecurity of BRP tenants. Like Korail house owners, the tenants also faced state-sponsored mass eviction. Some 62% of respondents reported that fires resulted from prolonged and bitter

Housing: a Contested Avenue  93 conflicts between two powerful groups of local goons over land grabbing. After fires, the tenants usually moved elsewhere, often on the side of the road if they lost everything. They would rent a new home if they could afford it, although this could be difficult if they lost everything in the fire. Some who lost everything became pavement dwellers. Social Networks

This section will discuss how the respondents of both neighborhoods manage their livelihoods through social networks. Social networks are key to solving the problems of human society. Through building social networks within their communities and beyond the neighborhood, they can manage their livelihoods and other benefits. Social networks gave the poor safety nets vital to engage in politicaleconomic activities. Having social networks allows a person to do things one might never do alone. Networks also broaden options by allowing residents to learn from their peers through exchange of visits, views, and experiences. The construction of viable social relationships can also set up platforms to work on different issues: housing, savings, welfare services, infrastructural development, and land acquisition. For example, through these networks, they could identify vacant land and build housing together. Through district-based associations, they manage their funds, upgrade housing, negotiate with local authorities, and solve their problems. Building social networks and relationships may open up a new perspective that will show them how to address poverty. Both individual and collective levels of networks and relationships are used to negotiate livelihood arrangements. BRP respondents claimed that social relationships among flat residents were not as strong as they used to be in informal housing. Many BRP respondents stated that although they used to visit their next-door neighbors in the informal neighborhood, they could not continue socializing after relocating to the BRP. For example, Nazma said that in Bhashantek, if all the tenants in a single compound had a good relationship, they would feel united; however, here in BRP, every flat resident was different from one other. The majority of BRP respondents who used to live in Bhashantek did not want their children to play in apartment towers that they call “bondijibon” (captive life). Some do not even know who their next-door neighbors are. The majority of them missed their previous social life. Hashem says, Over the eight years I have lived here as a tenant, in comparison to the old neighborhood, I seldom saw relatives coming over to here at these flats. Due to space constraints, we become unwelcome to village people or relatives. As I discussed in the previous section, the house owners of informal neighborhoods, such as Korail or Bhashantek, had more relations with the tenants to protect their houses from the eviction, but this is not necessary here. Respondents reported that except for some relationships at the personal level, there was no communal network between the residents as the idea of the community did not develop here for many reasons such as ownership differentiation, management’s intervention,

94  Housing: a Contested Avenue social identity, and tenure security. For example, flat owners consider themselves legal residents. They do not want to mix with the tenants, as they are illegal residents. Perhaps the reason is that legitimate flat owners have less necessity for a helping hand concerning housing inclusion, as they have already tenure security. Many flat owners alleged that the tenants ruined the BRP environment. However, due to having their own apartment and communal living, some of them can borrow money from each other to pay for installments or utilities if needed. On the other hand, among the flat owners, some owners have developed a better relationship with the BRP office. Moreover, BRP had no social organization to connect people with one another. Individual connections exist in certain buildings, particularly with next-door neighbors. There was a BRP flat owners’ association, which the project administration disbanded. Furthermore, the building structure means each flat is isolated from the others, and there is no cordiality or exchange of goodwill among neighbors. They cannot communicate with one other in the same manner they used to with other neighbors in informal housing, particularly those who live in the same premises, due to the individual flat arrangement. Because multiple families in Korail share a common household compound, a sense of communal ownership has developed inside each complex. However, due to a lack of social organization, BRP flat owners lack compassion for relatively impoverished tenants. BRP respondents also indicated that they were unable to build social networks among themselves, owing to the lack of a flat owners’ association or any other sort of community organization. However, some of them were able to organize a protest against the management through interpersonal networking, which I will discuss in Chapter 6. ‘Some people came to Korail knowing that they had a contact in the city when they migrated; others said they first migrated to the city without any prior acquaintances or connections. These contacts were primarily people from their rural area, and some were relatives such as sisters, brothers, cousins, aunt, in-laws, and uncles. Many migrants found a home in Korail and BRP through people that they had known in their rural homes. For example, Siraj got housing through help from a friend in his village. Therefore, relatives, friends, neighbors, and villagers from the same area played an important role in settling in Dhaka after migration. Respondents who got support from these networks reported that they offered shelter and food on their arrival and supported new migrants to find housing in the same neighborhood. According to Liton, After we had migrated to town from rural areas, we needed some time to adapt to this new environment. In the very beginning, we did not understand many things. We have learnt and developed our strategies of survival from our individual experiences and from social networks. In the city, unlike the villages, nobody is willing help without being offered something in return. Therefore, social network is very important here. If you have a relation with someone, only then you can expect to get support. In the very first days after my arrival in Dhaka, I got help from a person who also migrated before me from my village. I was staying with him for few days at his room. Later,

Housing: a Contested Avenue  95 when I found a way earn a living by starting a business with a van, I shifted from his room to another room and brought my family from the village. Akhi says, “in troublesome times, we seek help from those who migrated from the same place as ourselves.” “Furthermore,” relates Akhi, “when someone migrates from the village, they seek shelter in the relatives’ or acquaintances’ homes. A couple of months later when the newcomers have settled down, they search for jobs and gradually move into their own places.” After settling down in the neighborhood, social networks helped respondents engage in income-generating activities. Sometimes the person who assisted them in settling also helped them find a job so that they were able to start earning money immediately. Once respondents earned a livelihood, they had access to the local authority, opportunities for loans from moneylenders, and access to NGOs. They said that one network helped create more networks. Once they had a job, they could expand their social networks. The importance of a job in creating networks was similar in BRP. Colleagues, neighbors, house owners, and employers have also been added to individual social networks. For example, the NGO that Hosna is associated with and takes loans from was connected through her house owner. She got her first job through her neighbor. This job helped her to pay her rent in Korail. Some respondents in BRP also borrowed money from each other to pay their house rent. Some of them expanded their social networks with employers as well. Respondents said that many Korail house owners developed their housing infrastructure through the NGO networks; however, many poor tenants were excluded due to the increase in house rent. Therefore, numerous couples in Korail shared their room with other relatives to reduce the cost of the rent. Even in the femaleheaded households, extended family members, neighbors, or relatives often were of great help. For example, Sabiha, a tea stall owner, continued her business without her husband, who left a few years ago. Her neighbor, a housewife who stays at home, helps her in the tea stall, and she even runs the business when Sabiha goes to school with her children. In many cases, community members play an essential role in the lives of the Korail, where all city services are uncertain to access. Most tenants create networks. However, those who have no connections or networks struggle to survive. The people of both neighborhoods borrowed money from other sources based on their informal relationships with landlords and neighbors. For example, besides NGO and cooperative loans, some respondents took loans from friends, relatives, and employers when they bought their house or invested money in a business. Besides NGOs’ microcredit program, in Korail, some influential house owners and local leaders lent money at high interest. Some people are more comfortable with them instead of NGOs, as they can repay informally. In addition, if the network is good, some people help by lending money without interest. In Korail, some people were socio-politically disconnected, and others were well connected. Influential local leaders may evict those who are relatively weak economically, socially, or politically. Sometimes their belongings are looted under cover of political violence. If someone was isolated from the community network,

96  Housing: a Contested Avenue the influential mastaans may conspire to oust him/her, undermine their rights, and take their currency and property. Some people may live in this neighborhood without facing these problems; however, having a relationship or contact with local leaders, or influential relatives, or any kind of network eases their survival. Since these house owners live on an informally occupied land, opponents will seize the opportunity, bulldoze their houses, and grab the land if they are seen as weak. For instance, if Helal’s house is being bulldozed, his tenants, friends, and neighbors will come to his rescue. So, it is helpful to form strong ties to the surrounding people to give someone a hand if need be. Moreover, if a house owner does not belong to the government party, the person has to be obedient or submissive to the ruling party henchmen. The majority of the local leaders are usually actively engaged in government party politics to gain housing inclusion. One must either maintain networks or pay bribes to local political leaders to enjoy a hazard-free existence. Residents employed different strategies, including building social networks to evade mass eviction by the state agency, which I will discuss in Chapter 6. However, when Korail residents face eviction, the sense of communal cohesion becomes very apparent. Not only that, when Korail catches fire, the Korail residents do not wait for the political leaders, mayor, or ward commissioner’s assistance. They unite to help out friends and neighbors. Korail had several large fires during fieldwork, and every time, I observed the same cooperation. For instance, a girl named Motia and some youths went door to door to collect between two and three hundred clothes on a winter night. As soon as she knocked on the door, people just handed her those clothes. Motia sorted a pile of girls’ clothes, two other piles of children’s and men’s clothes and put them separately. Subsequently, she filled five separate sacks of clothing, which were then carried by some boys to the places ablaze. The DSK-CBO committee distributed these clothes to the victims. They announced the arrival of clothes over the loudspeaker. Everything is organized like a relief mission sent by the government or an NGO; however, the majority of the relief was organized by community organizations such as youth clubs, football clubs, and rural home-based cooperatives. There were also several groups from beyond the Korail that stepped forward with aid. Respondents informed me that these were all spontaneously planned and came freely due to their social networks with Korail. In this section, I provided ethnographic data in order to get a fuller picture of how the respondents get support from different actors, depending upon their degree of relatedness. Through social networks, they can develop networks with different people and obtain a degree of patronage from the network and relations. The most vulnerable residents develop relationships that may be utilized as a safety net. Respondents shared their experiences about gaining support from the diverse actors at times of crisis or dire need. During a fire, I also met some women from different neighborhoods with breakfast and lunch for the fire victims’ families. One of them said that she had a hairdressing business and three of the girls who worked for her came from Korail. They requested her to help them, so she came with food. Another lady owned a boutique; five workers were from Korail. She bought

Housing: a Contested Avenue  97 food, some warm clothes, and money for them. Four ladies, who employed Korail ­residents as maids or security guards at their houses, came as a group with food and clothing. However, to make a network, Korail respondents said that they had to provide effort. For example, if someone makes cakes during winter or even cooks a special dish on a grand occasion, they distribute it to the neighbors, especially to the house owner. They believed that it made their relations stronger. Neighbors console neighbors in distress and share information regarding jobs. Therefore, these social relationships are vital for reducing exclusion. In essence, the more one is able to access the resources through social networks, the more secure one’s livelihood and the greater the degree of relationships available, which can help increase housing inclusion. However, getting a social network requires maintaining relationships with influential actors, which in many cases may not be possible for poor respondents. The kind of communal sense that works in informal housing does not work in formal housing projects due to lack of community organization, leadership, complex relations between residents and management, and social distance between flat owners and tenants. I will discuss this in more detail in Chapter 6. Moreover, residents who came from the Bhashantek were considered “poor slum residents” by others. Some respondents reported that they did not know who lived in the flat next door. From the above discussion, it is clear that BRP’s neighborhood-based social network is somewhat weaker than that of Korail due to living in a formal project. The reason is that legitimate BRP flat owners have less necessity for maintaining social networks to ensure housing security. On the other hand, lack of housing security was a continual reminder of Korail residents’ lack of citizenship, making them more active in maintaining social networks with influential actors. Obstacles to Inclusion In their search for inclusion, the residents in my sample faced various forces that excluded them. I discuss two major issues in this section: attempts by the state agency to dispossess Korail in the name of city development projects and patriarchy, faced by women in both neighborhoods. Mass Evictions

Though the national housing policy discouraged forcible relocation and underscored the upgrading of the informal neighborhoods, eviction took place regularly in Korail, which indicates exclusion rather than inclusion. Recently, the city authorities also began to talk about the relocation of Korail inhabitants in the name of city development. A state agency wanted to set up a high-tech Information Technology (IT) park for public and private sector development. For this to occur, the court directed the creation of a plan to relocate Korail residents. During interviews with different state officials regarding this plan, it became obvious that the city authorities would proceed with a new development project

98  Housing: a Contested Avenue and make an argument for clearing this land. As occurred in Bhashantek, the government may create a community leadership platform to convince the Korail community to vacate for a new development project. Korail respondents blamed the state’s beautification and development projects, which are designed to evict them. Within these plans and programs, they said that there is no place to gain citizenship. The Korail residents faced mass eviction several times by state agencies. Faisal works as an owner of a tea stall with his wife, and his shop was demolished because it was situated alongside the lake. He could not afford to reconstruct the shop there, so he rented a room next to his house to convert into a makeshift shop. Faisal still laments the demolition of his shop, Suddenly I saw a bulldozer. Even then, I was convinced that the leaders would be able to minimize large-scale destruction. Before I could blink an eye, they were next to my shop. I put my child down and tried to rescue some goods and materials. The authorities announced, “If we didn’t, they would roll the bulldozers and would not be responsible for our losses. We were given less than 24 hours to clear out.” Mass eviction of informal neighborhoods is an obstacle for the residents to achieve inclusion and citizenship. State-sponsored eviction threats and housing precarity reinforced Korail residents’ sense of exclusion and everyday belonging, a problem not present for BRP flat owners. Culture of Patriarchy

Female respondents from both neighborhoods reported that housing inclusion for women is problematic due to patriarchy. They said that poor women do not possess equal access to housing due to the lack of property and housing rights. “We women represent the urban poor and vulnerability to the state and donor agencies, but we are most deprived of housing benefits,” Yasmin said. Female respondents in Korail reported that although political leaders, NGOs, and civil society prioritized female participation and talked about female empowerment, they rarely offered women concrete benefits. For example, when it came to receiving benefits from agencies such as the city corporation, officials ask women their husband’s names as if a woman cannot possess an identity of her own. Nazma, who received a flat in BRP, used to live in Bhashantek; she said that, as a woman, she had to fight ten times harder than a man to get the flat. Many tried to portray her as a bad woman without character to prevent her from getting a flat. Nazma’s struggle suggests that patriarchal practice leaves women with less power than men in regard to owning flats, land, and property (Figure 3.7). Nazma shared another experience, which showed how authority portrayed women when they took part in protests to gain inclusion. During the BRP protest, male protesters had to go through various allegations of rebellion, conspiracy, anti-government action, and fraud; however, the authority brought charges against

Housing: a Contested Avenue  99

Figure 3.7  Author at BRP Women Source: Fieldwork

the 70-year-old woman, Nazma, alleging that she was immoral, involved in prostitution, and ruining the BRP environment. Like Nazma, some women who took part in the protest were portrayed similarly to suppress their active participation. It is clear from this incident that in a patriarchal society, character assassination of women is more acceptable than the portrayal of women as rebels.

100  Housing: a Contested Avenue In this patriarchal society, however, a house is usually in the man’s name, not in the name of both men and women as co-earners of the household. Female respondents shared how they were excluded from housing. They said that although they do all the work in a house, raise children, earn money, play a role in buying a house or paying rent, they must give the name of the husband or father while owning or renting the house. In the second chapter, I described how national housing policies of the NHP and NUSP promised that poor, widowed, and elderly women would receive housing. However, the reality was different due to these patriarchal practices, which excluded women from housing opportunities and ignored their agency. For example, in BRP, out of 18 respondents, the majority, including female respondents, were engaged in income activities; however, aside from Nazma, no women possessed a flat in their own name. They said that this society does not believe that the wife’s name can be used on the housing ownership or renter’s documents if the husband is alive. Single mothers had to fight harder to rent a house. All 36 female respondents agreed that patriarchy was one of the most important factors preventing women from achieving inclusion. It was most challenging for unmarried and single mothers to get housing as single occupants in Korail. Fatema’s experience encapsulates the women’s distress, despair, and deprivation. Fatema, a single mother with three children at home, had to leave for work by 5:45 a.m. as her work at the hospital commenced at 7 a.m. Sometimes she had to do night duty as well. Fifteen years ago, she migrated here with her husband. She used to work as maid in two households at Gulshan, while her husband was a rickshaw-puller. After a few months of marriage, she was often beaten by her husband. At first, she struggled to cope with the reality and thought that her strife would continue indefinitely. Meanwhile, she stumbled upon the news that her husband lived with another wife in a separate area. Nevertheless, she got a job at this hospital and accepted that she had to struggle alone and strove to survive with her three daughters. The hospital job required that she was outside the home all day. Fatema, therefore, asked her neighbor Swapna and her husband, who remained at home after sunset, to keep an eye on her children and household. One day, however, when Fatema returned home around 9 p.m., she spotted Swapna’s husband leaving Fatema’s room. Fatema’s elder daughter did not utter a word, instead she embraced Fatema, sobbing. Fatema understood but could do nothing. She made a decision the next day to move to another area of Korail. Fatema said that it was challenging to get a house, as the owners did not want to rent a house to a single mother like her. However, after several attempts, she finally moved with the support of a friend. After moving, she understood she was going to experience new problems as a single mother. The house owner used to harass Fatema in various ways. He offered to have sex with her in place of paying the rent. When some people found out that there were no male members in the house, they began harassing her and her daughters. Then she went out to search for her husband. She found him and realized his second wife was expecting. She offered to look after the pregnant Champa, her co-wife, and requested that her husband live with his two wives. It was difficult

Housing: a Contested Avenue  101 for Fatema to fight alone. Circumstances forced her to find her husband and live together with her co-wife in one room. Otherwise, according to her, “This patriarchal society would not let me, or my children live. Having been separated from my husband for two years, I cannot say how many men at that time wanted to have sex in the name of helping me.” Female respondents in Korail experienced far more challenges than their BRP counterparts due to their fragile, unhealthy, and unsafe housing arrangements. Problems included a lack of private space, fragile doors, holes in walls, and insufficient toilets and bathing areas. A significant number of Korail women (68%) reported that they or their daughters had been subjected to sexual harassment because of the poor housing structure. Because the doors were not secure, the Korail respondents said that anybody could enter into their room at any moment. For those with houses of paper and polythene, people could see inside through holes. It is a clear violation of their right to privacy. Almost 84% of Korail women said that they had to take baths in an open space, such as the yard of their house compound, in front of men. The BRP respondents who used to live in informal neighborhoods said that they felt much safer in a BRP apartment when compared with their previous housing. Conclusion This chapter has used four indicators to assess the residents’ access to housing in the two neighborhoods: legality, affordability, stability of tenure, and social networks. Through these discussions, I have also tried to understand the satisfaction of the respondents with the housing inclusion of the two areas. According to the preceding discussion, many poor residents of the city were unable to obtain housing due to prevailing regulations, which also created a space for non-regulated practices in the city sphere. These practices included high-priced land, a lack of income-generation opportunities, mass eviction, and dispossession. In terms of legality, BRP and Korail residents experience different levels of inclusion. BRP residents had more tenure security than people in Korail due to their legal status. A significant number of BRP flat owners with legal ownership considered themselves included as they conducted cordial relations with the BRP authority. In contrast, many respondents have had bad experiences with the BRP management where they were threatened with eviction, despite it being a state property and the fact that the owners had legal ownership. Many respondents had uncomfortable relations with the BRP management as the BRP office treated them as ordinary poor people from informal neighborhoods. Fernandes and Smolka (2004) argued that the residents of upgraded settlements in Latin America remained stigmatized, as second-class citizens long after the settlement had been ameliorated. In a similar vein, the BRP was known as “slum dwellers’ flats” by management and other powerful actors of the city. BRP respondents said that even after buying an expensive flat, they were still considered “slum dwellers.” Due to their lack of legal status, Korail residents are frequently subjected to eviction and fires, interrupting their lives. Four types of eviction and dispossession occur in Korail because of the lack of formal documents and legality:

102  Housing: a Contested Avenue government-sponsored mass eviction and dispossession by local goons’ muscle power and politics of land grabbing, through fire, and tenants evicted by house owners usually for non-payment of rent, drug use, etc. In each case, the evictees were dispossessed since they had no legal tenure. However, the lack of renters’ documents ensures that residents in both communities have little tenure security. Even though Korail house owners suffer more evictions than BRP flat owners, Korail owners enjoy more opportunities, such as profit from home rent, housing extension, and building social networks. In terms of affordability, most of the respondents of both neighborhoods reported that the primary obstacle to achieving housing inclusion was the lack of finance and individual savings. To ensure affordable housing, the Bangladesh government has opted for the resettlement project policy, which was not affordable for many Bhanshantek residents. Though BRP was to be an example for an alternative living arrangement for poor people, they could not afford flats in BRP. In the context of this housing development policy, the activities of the Land Ministry itself caused a rise in land prices throughout the city causing the concentration of property in a few hands and obliging tenants to pay high rents. The true problem in finding a legal solution to the housing problem in the BRP project lies in the economic interests of powerful actors. In terms of stability of tenure, some BRP respondents have had bad experiences with the BRP authority where they were threatened with eviction, despite it being a state property where the owners possessed legal ownership. In both neighborhoods, tenants are more vulnerable than the house/flat owners since owners can evict tenants without prior notice since there are no formal documents. However, Korail tenants do not have to keep their identities a secret. Although the existence of various organizations, NGOs, clubs, cooperatives, and socio-political networks in Korail is strong, the BRP respondents have little access to them. In BRP, the authority did not allow them to create organizations or cooperatives. Rather, the BRP office has rendered the operations of the flat owners’ association null and void, as I shall explain in Chapter 6. Within the socio-political networks in Korail, a patron-client relation exists between privileged house owners and external powerful actors. Therefore, some had resided in Korail for 50 years without legal status; they could remain through indirect support of the state authorities. Ensuring housing inclusion requires more effort, time, labor, and political engagement from the Korail residents, which is less necessary for the BRP flat owners to do. These will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 6. The two primary barriers to integration are ongoing worries of mass evictions and patriarchy. Some state agencies have claimed ownership of Korail and attempted to evict Korail repeatedly in the name of city development; however, they have not been successful in the face of the residents’ political networks, roles in the city economy, and protest, which I will explore in Chapter 6. Overall, people of BRP have more housing security than people of Korail, but BRP tenants are less secure than residents of Korail, even if Korail housing lacks legality and stability. However, the BRP was assigned to set up an example to show an alternative living arrangement for the inhabitants of informal neighborhoods. Over time, the

Housing: a Contested Avenue  103 Land Ministry bureaucrats gathered information through statistics, such as surveys, and arguments were made to create legal categories of permanent housing projects, whereby poor people within Dhaka were solely identified as “in need of help.” As a result, a particular municipal problem has become a site of governmental intervention to construct a housing project for the urban poor, where the inclusion of the poor remains in doubt. Instead, by eliminating the previous informal neighborhood without relocating the residents, the individuals who had lived there for an extended period were made more vulnerable. The role of the policymakers and elites in housing inclusivity of the urban poor may be clearly understood by analyzing the state documents of the government, which I discussed in Chapter 2. The high value of land and the cost of flats exclude the urban poor from purchasing assets in the city. Consequently, it is estimated that 97% of the urban poor do not own any land (World Bank 2007, 35). The state has not used urban vacant land in Dhaka for the resettlement of the urban poor. Instead, this land is sometimes subject to land grabs by the wealthy. The state evicted the urban poor who occupied this space but did not take legal action against the influential persons. Scholars find that the state favors the elite by promoting real-estate interests and the major construction plans of developers rather than addressing the development of social infrastructure (Nahiduzzaman 2012). Although some poor people received flats in the formal BRP housing project, a form of inclusion, there is an idea among elites that giving more housing inclusion could encourage more rural people to migrate. For these reasons, powerful elites do not desire to solve the urban poor’s housing problem. It might cause elites to lose some of the benefits that they have. The following chapter will investigate access to essential utilities.

4

Informalization of Formal Utility Access

Access to utilities is a requirement for inclusion into urban citizenship. In this chapter, I look at five utilities: water, sanitation, waste management, electricity, and cooking gas. The residents of informal neighborhood generally have limited or no access to formal utilities because of the hazardous layout and the illegal status of their housing. The lack of utilities disrupts their city life, hinders their socioeconomic development, and leads to obstacles to inclusiveness. For example, many urban poor children cannot study due to the lack of electricity. Access to basic utilities plays a crucial role in creating opportunities and possibilities to reduce urban poverty. While there is widespread understanding of the role of utility access in sustainable development, there is still little policy on how the urban poor can access utilities, as discussed in Chapter 2. While it is expected that citizens of a democratic and modern country have access to utilities, many informal neighborhood residents in Dhaka are deprived of them due to their lack of legal status. In contrast, BRP residents have the right to utilities from formal service providers. The situation is the opposite of Korail where lack of utilities disrupted everyday life and economic activities. The poor residents held meetings and demonstrations to demand water in absence of legal water supply and sanitation, putting pressure on the government (Figure 4.1). This chapter analyzes the patterns of inclusion and exclusion of people in terms of access to utilities. I organize the discussion of utilities around several indicators to understand the patterns and levels of inclusion: legality, affordability, stability of access, social networks, and satisfaction. This chapter explains how people access and manage utilities, even in the face of non-legality. Affordability considers utility cost in BRP and Korail. Through stability of access, I look at risk while accessing and using utilities. I also looked at the quality of service in both neighborhoods. This chapter discusses how gaining access to utilities in Korail is related to social networks through social engagement, community support, reciprocity, and trust among their neighbors. I examined whether the respondents were happy with their utility connections and quality of service. This chapter is divided into five sections. In these five sections, I consider the following utilities: water, sanitation, waste management, electricity, and cooking gas. The conclusion will summarize the key points of this chapter. DOI: 10.4324/9781003414315-5

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  105 Water The quality and quantity of water are always unsatisfactory to the urban poor (Rana 2011, 33). Accessing water in informal neighborhoods in Dhaka is timeconsuming, physically demanding, and expensive (World Bank 2007). The lack of adequate water can result in health problems, and adverse effects on their socioeconomic livelihoods. For example, researchers discovered that the residents of three informal neighborhoods in Dhaka, including Korail, were spending approximately 13–23% of their average monthly income to get water. In contrast, the DWASA’s legal connection holders in Dhaka paid less than 5% of their income per month (Rahman et al. 2015, 1). The policymakers had no specific policy to provide adequate water supply and sanitation to the urban poor. As discussed in Chapter 2, two of the four national water policies recently emphasized the importance of water access for the vulnerable poor: each poor household requires a water point with a minimum of 50 liters for a person’s daily use (GOB 2014b, 6). Policies also stated that the water point should be within 150 meters of the household premises, and the collection time should be within 20 minutes. The level of inclusion of the respondents in two neighborhoods varies with their legal status. BRP respondents possess equal access, whereas Korail respondents cannot access water equally. In BRP, every flat resident possesses access to piped water through BRP’s water pump (Figure 4.2). In 2009, when people began to live here, BRP residents started to get formal water after a few months. The BRP developed its own water system with DWASA’s support, using water supplied from deep tube wells. In each flat, residents have two water taps in the toilet and kitchen. The majority of the BRP respondents formerly lived in informal neighborhoods and had experienced water scarcity. After relocating to the BRP, they had access to water. Table 4.2 shows that 100% of BRP respondents have access to legal water. The respondents said that if the pump motor fails or is out of order, they face a water crisis. This generally occurs several times a year. During these, they use manual tube wells, of which there are three on the BRP premises. In Korail, there are informal means to access water. There was no legal water access in Korail before March 2013. The Korail residents struggled to access a minimum amount of water for everyday use. People had to stand in queues, and it took two to three hours to collect a bucket of water. Shefali informed me, around 2000–2001, women would travel miles to collect drinking water from the public taps beside the main road. Previously, it used to be even worse; however, we could use water from the Gulshan Lake back then. Now, the lake is trashed, and its water is toxic. Shefali added, A single bucket of water would have to be utilized for an entire day’s affairs, including drinking, bathing, sanitation, until the next day’s collection of

106  Informalization of Formal Utility Access water. When I think of all the hardships and scarcity of water I’ve had to bear, tears trickle down my cheeks. I used to work (as a maid) at a house in Gulshan. When the work was over, I used to fill bottles of drinking water and carried them all the way home. Meanwhile, the population is increasing compared to the water supply. The first water service in Korail came through a local NGO, DSK (Dustha Sasthya KendraHealth Service for the Distressed People) in a limited way. DSK used to sell water to the people of Korail from a water point, which was inadequate to meet demand. Gradually some local leaders started supplying water by setting up informal water points, which I will discuss later. However, in 2013, Korail residents were able to gain legal water from DWASA through community participation. To get water from DWASA, Korail residents were supported by different agencies; in addition to DWASA, they were supervised by DSK, supported by donors, and monitored by the DSK-CBO.1 The Korail communities held meetings and demonstrations to demand water in absence of legal water supply, putting pressure on the government. They also submitted a memorandum to DWASA and organized a strike in 2005 for water rights. The local leaders of Korail were vocal about their socio-economic and political contribution to the city. The political parties announced their solidarity and said they would provide legal water connections to the informal neighborhoods if they won the upcoming election. Several parties announced such commitments as they

Figure 4.1  A Human Chain for Water and Sanitation Source: Fieldwork

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  107 recognized Korail leaders’ political activities during elections. In December 2007, the interim government introduced a partnership with the Asian Development Bank to support DWASA; it was supervised by a local NGO, DSK. The project was prepared by following the National Water Policies, whose goal was to provide improved water services to all citizens of Dhaka by 2025. DWASA revised its customer categories and added lower-income people who resided in informal neighborhoods of Dhaka as a third category in the new citizen charter, although their existence was not even mentioned in the earlier charter. Only the people included in this citizen’s charter receive DWASA water services. However, locals called this project the DSK model, as it was managed and monitored by DSK. The responsibilities of DSK-CBO included the everyday operation of the water points, revenue collection for water, and repayment of the loan to DSK. DSK helped several house owners with microfinance at a 10% interest rate if they could not provide a deposit for a water connection. It is DSK’s responsibility to submit the payment to the DWASA. According to a DSK official, We argue that the poor people who live in informal neighborhoods have the ability to pay for water if an NGO like DSK guides them to manage the process. We first talked to community members in Korail as they had asked us to do something to get water for many years. At the beginning of this project, we went to the Korail inhabitants to understand their priorities their willingness to pay water bills. We received 100% support from the community, which was our main argument for starting this model. We went to DWASA and showed the demand for water and people’s willingness to pay bills. We started to provide water through DWASA with the support of donor agencies and the community. A DSK official outlined the different steps through which they provided formal water through DWASA (see Table 4.1). Around 15,000 families in Korail received formal water. The DSK personnel indicated that from the very beginning, the community was supportive of receiving water from DWASA. They were communicative, argumentative, and enthusiastic about gaining access at every step. The respondents also revealed that they wholeheartedly supported DSK attempts to get water, although some informal service providers opposed it. Community members expressed their views in numerous meetings. They were most concerned about the water payments, how many hours water would be available, and who would deposit the monthly payment in the bank. Every house owner who wanted to receive DWASA water would need to submit a demand letter to DSK to become a customer and get a meter. There was, however, a political dispute over the distribution of posts among the CBO leaders. It was so severe that DSK had to form this DSK-CBO through organizing an election. Since only the house owners could get water meters, candidates and voters were all house owners. The DSK trained the CBO members to collect payments, maintain the water points, monitor the entire system, and report monthly to DSK. Now, the influence of the DSK-CBO extends beyond the Korail, as it is one of the most important

108  Informalization of Formal Utility Access Table 4.1  Steps in DSK Model to Get Water in Korail Steps Activities

Actors

1

DSK, community leaders, and community DSK and leaders DSK

2 3 4 5 6 7

Initial discussion with local leaders, public meeting with communities to explain the project plans, such as payments policy, maintenance of water pump, etc. Collect community feedback Prepare a proposal and submit plan to the donor agencies; apply for funds Baseline survey, site selection, and system design for the water points Form DSK-CBO and begin negotiation for permission for water from DWASA; receive approval from DNCC Construct pipeline network in Korail, establish DWASA water pump Water system management, monitoring, collecting monthly payment and repayment of the loan to DSK

DSK, donor agency WaterAid DSK, DWASA, DNCC, DSK-CBO DSK, DWASA, DNCC DSK, Customers, DSK-CBO

Source: Fieldwork

actors in Korail during any discussion with local government ­agencies. However, political mobilization, networks with NGOs and donor agencies, ­socio-economic and political engagements and contributions helped them to gain a sense of citizenship rights through which they claimed legal water. Finally, many Korail residents have received legal water from this community action project. Still, most of the water connections in Korail are operated through informal governance. Influential local leaders and house owners primarily run these water connections. For example, numerous mastaans supplied water to Korail through pipes from the main road and established non-legal water points. There are small-scale independent informal service providers and more extensive informal networks through influential political goons. Some service providers got water directly from the DWASA pipeline; they had negotiated with DWASA officials and police to connect with street-side water sources. Some of the mastaans, who were associated with line businesses, tapped water pipes regularly with the support of corrupt DWASA officials, which disrupted DWASA’s water flow system, therefore, DWASA subscribers did not get enough water. Although more than 15,000 families were getting water through the DSK model, informal water providers still ran their businesses. When the DSK model was launched, some of them opposed it because they thought they would lose their clients. An official from DWASA informed me that it had experienced difficulties in providing services due to the lack of resources, rapid urbanization, poor water quality, lack of manpower, and leakages in the network. He added that as the city grows, the water demand escalates every day; therefore, it becomes harder to supply water to each household. He indicated that the mastaans of Korail were also doing illegal business by excavating DWASA’s water pipes. Moreover, the municipality and inspection department often conducted excavations to disconnect mastaans’ illegal lines, which further hindered the formal water access of Korail.

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  109 Table 4.2  Sources of Water in both Neighborhoods Name of Source

Formal pipeline Informal tap water From vendors monthly NGO pipeline Lake water Hand tube well Public tap Borehole Purchase daily

Korail

BRP

Number

%

No

%

32 27 11 15 3 9 11 3 6

44 38 15 21 4 13 15 4 8

18 — 3 — — 7 — — —

100 — 17 — — 39 — — —

Source: Fieldwork

Although there are different types of water connections in Korail, many r­espondents do not have adequate access to water, and many respondents are dependent on several sources of water simultaneously. These sources can be broadly divided between formal/legal and informal/non-legal means. In BRP, 100% of the respondents have access to legal water, whereas 44% of Korail respondents subscribed to a legal water service. In addition to using legal water, a significant number of respondents in Korail also use non-legal sources to get good quality water. Table 4.2 shows that the Korail respondents have access to many non-legal sources; however; they have to struggle more than BRP respondents to get water. Table 4.2 also shows that 38% of the Korail respondents regularly subscribe to water from informal service providers in return for a monthly payment. There are some water vendors who deliver water to the residents in different ways. Many women in Korail carry water in containers and sell it. A few NGOs established water-vending machines, where clients fetch water. Those who cannot pay due to its high cost (2%) depend on adjacent lake water. Nine respondents (13%) used shallow tube wells, whereas 15% depended on street public taps. Both neighborhoods have water accessibility; however, it is challenging for the poorer residents to obtain it at affordable prices. Each BRP resident has to pay a flat rate of 250 taka (US$3) monthly for water. They deposit this money at the BRP office. Before house owners of Bhashantek moved to BRP as tenants, some used informal water services, either free or at a low cost. The BRP respondents mentioned that when they used to live in Bhashantek, and if they went home, they did not subscribe to water for a few months. This was not possible in BRP due to its formal system. Asmani Begum said that when she went to a village for three months, she had to pay the total price for utilities with a 10% late fee after returning. Many BRP residents considered it a burden to pay 250 taka (US$2.34) monthly, even if they were not home for months. However, 17% of the BRP respondents said that sometimes they bought drinking water from private vendors, as they did not have confidence in the BRP water quality. In comparison to BRP, many Korail respondents possess

110  Informalization of Formal Utility Access

Figure 4.2  Water Pump in BRP Source: Fieldwork

the flexibility to avoid paying for utilities. For example, if a Korail tenant did not have enough money to pay the water bill, they would collect water from the lake or another informal source. On the other hand, if a BRP tenant got water from an informal source, they still had to pay the utility bill through the BRP office. This is a matter of flexibility as well as affordability. Tenants have less choice in choosing their water supply than the house owners in Korail. A tenant usually receives water from the house owner’s supply system, whether formal or informal, and he or she has to pay the water bill with the rent to the house owner. Some house owners build wells within the compound for water preservation. In the majority of cases, house owners collect water from a tap or well. All the tenants said that house owners were more included than tenants because the house owners could apply for DWASA water, not tenants. It suggests that house ownership is an essential factor for the establishment of water rights. A Korail house owner must pay around 20,000 taka (US$187) for a meter through which multiple households can consume legal water. A legal connection can connect up to 12 households. In BRP, the yearly cost of each flat is approximately 3,000 taka (US$28) for water, whereas a house owner or tenant who has access to DWASA water in Korail, pays 1200 taka (US$11) to 1440 taka (US$13) yearly, depending on the connected number of households. However, many respondents preferred the vendors who deliver water carts with small tanks or drums. Only a minority of the population (44%) was connected to DWASA water, even though DWASA’s water price was lower than the informal water price. For example, DWASA connection holders had to pay 15.93 taka (US$0.15) per 1000 liters, whereas informal connection holders paid a varying amount, ranging from 170 taka to 250 taka (US$1.6–2.34) per 1000 liters.

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  111 Different categories of people paid different amounts for water. For example, around 8% of the Korail respondents purchase water daily. NGOs sold water to the residents in 5 liter bottles. A client can insert the required number of coins (5 taka/ US$0.04) in a vending machine and remove the bottle, usually a sealed 5 liter bottle. Some private-sector service providers deliver water jars to clients’ homes. From them, people can buy a 18.5 liter bottle for 40 taka (US$0.37). In that case, they have to pay 1,892 taka (US$17.7) per 1000 liters, whereas DWASA connection holders pay only 15.93 taka (US$ 0.15) for the same quantity of water. Water tariffs from the private vendors are 122 times higher than the cost of DWASA’s water. The yearly cost of water for clients in Korail with intermittent water varies from around US$21 to US$36 for a limited amount of water; therefore, they believe that they pay less than if they had DWASA water. Moreover, they can negotiate the prices with vendors; sometimes they may receive water on credit. However, those who buy water from vendors said that they only purchased drinking water. They can also get water according to their needs and schedule. Some prefer water from vendors because vendors address the consumers’ requests and complaints, whereas it was difficult to convey complaints to DWASA. Many respondents in Korail prefer the informal system as it has the flexibility to connect or disconnect. Some of the house owners cannot afford DWASA’s initial connection costs. Therefore, many tenants cannot get formal water either. However, in both neighborhoods, some poorer families prefer informal service provision as they can stop the service at any time, not possible in the formal system. Many house owners in Korail were connected to both formal and informal water sources. They resold water to tenants, fixing the prices based on family size. Sometimes house owners give a discount on the cost of water to get a tenant. For example, Zamila could not get water from the DWASA pipeline, as she works during collection times, so she would purchase a bucket of water from her neighbor. Some 2% of respondents depend on their neighbors’ or owners’ water sources as they return home late night and do not have the option to collect DWASA’s scheduled water, available twice a day in the morning and at noon. However, in many cases, the sources of water and prices vary among the respondents. Those who cannot afford to purchase water in Korail are most excluded. The poorest mainly end up buying drinking water only. Some of them depend on adjacent lake water, others on street public taps. For example, for drinking, Rahima collects water from the mosque’s tap, and for washing clothes and dishes, she uses lake water. However, as they do not possess a permanent source of water, they consider themselves excluded. Stability of water service implies that continuous water supply is available, stable and safe for human consumption. Though respondents wanted the government to provide water to their households, they also accessed water through informal systems due to service continuity. Respondents who subscribed to DWASA water said that sometimes they got sticky and gray-colored water from the line. Korail subscribers did not get DWASA water round the clock, rather twice daily for only two to three hours. Some Korail respondents were dissatisfied due to DWASA connection’s discontinuity, short timing, and poor quality of services. In BRP,

112  Informalization of Formal Utility Access there were basins and sinks in kitchens and toilets, but many times the water pump did not generate enough water due to machine failure. The lack of confidence in DWASA water quality and the small amount of water provided prompted some respondents to buy water from the vendors, particularly drinking water. Although many respondents did not know the water source of the private vendors, they believed that vendor water was safer than the DWASA water. Social networks may be important in getting water access. In BRP, as the residents have equal access from the same source, they do not need to collect water from neighbors or other sources. In contrast, Korail residents depend more on social networks. Many Korail respondents got water from neighbors due to good relationships and collected water without instant or monthly fixed payment. It is quite acceptable for the poorest families to collect water from street taps, from the mosque, and the school. Some respondents prefer to buy water from vendors because a socio-personal relationship with a vendor can help them in various ways. For example, they can negotiate prices and may receive water on credit. Through maintaining a social network with NGOs, Korail residents got access to formal water. The DWASA official said that the main force behind changes in policy was the poor communities themselves and their socio-political networks. They pressured the government through NGO and CBO networks that forced DWASA to pay attention to informal neighborhoods. The media also played an important role, often writing about the water crisis in neighborhoods like Korail. Through networking, the Korail residents organized demonstrations on the streets and provided interviews to the media. Korail people also expanded their relationship with the media through the NGO social network. In BRP, some respondents were frustrated about paying for water every month. Many of them lived in villages for a part of the year, yet they had to pay for water every month. However, 61% of the BRP respondents were quite satisfied with the service. In contrast, only 18% of Korail respondents were satisfied with water delivery for the last few years; many of those could afford both formal and informal services. Most of the Korail respondents said they were not fully satisfied with the level of access, quality, and quantity of DWASA water. Water access for Korail tenants is worse than for house owners, and tenants pay significant amounts. Although Korail residents have demanded access to formal water for decades, only about 10,000 ­families have access to this water. The DSK system could supply more water to more people, but it still faced opposition from several mastaans, as discussed above. Sanitation Policymakers have not paid as much attention to sanitation as they have to water. After obtaining water from DWASA, Korail inhabitants expected to access DWASA’s other services, such as construction, operation, improvement, and maintenance of the necessary infrastructures to collect, treat, and dispose of domestic sewerage. However, that was not available. Dhaka does have a formal sewerage system, primarily for residential and commercial areas; however, only 40% of urban residents have access to hygienic sanitation (Islam 1993). The informal neighborhood residents rely on septic tanks, pit latrines, or open space with no sewerage. There is

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  113 no state provided service to empty the waste from toilets and transport it for safe treatment. Many informal neighborhood residents dump their waste into the nearby lake, an open canal, or the river. Sewerage and trash are released into the environment, which causes ecological damage and creates health hazards. Many in the city face waterlogging due to the lack of proper sewerage management, particularly during the rainy season. BRP residents have individual toilets within each flat. BRP residents are comparatively better served, as 100% of respondents possess an attached toilet; the flats have a septic tank connected to the public sewer. In contrast, most informal neighborhoods lack adequate sanitation infrastructure, leading to pollution. The house owners in Korail do not possess proper legal sanitation, and both hygiene and privacy are absent. Though DNCC was responsible for constructing public latrines, and DWASA was to maintain drainage infrastructure and disposal of sewerage, both authorities argued that they did not have enough labor and resources to provide services in the informal neighborhoods. In contrast, DWASA was willing to provide water to informal neighborhoods because it got funds from donor agencies, was under pressure from local government to meet voters’ demands and international organizations for better water access. Korail local leaders, including the DSK-CBO and house owners, were attempting to get funding from donor agencies for sustainable sanitation through NGO networks. Korail has two types of toilets: old-fashioned and new. The majority of the oldfashioned latrines were overhung/hanging latrines that did not have a floor, roof, or any permanent materials, such as toilet paper or material for using water. These latrines usually have no doors and are partially covered with polythene or paper that does not withstand rain. New toilets, however, were built with a water sanitation seal pit; they have a built-in commode, a device used to cap a well, piped sewer, and flush system. A few NGOs, such as DSK and World Vision, assisted

Figure 4.3  BRP’s (Left) and Korail’s (Right) Toilets Source: Fieldwork

114  Informalization of Formal Utility Access in constructing several sanitation chambers in specific places for residential use; ­however, the number is inadequate compared to the size of the population. In Korail, around 10–15 family members use a latrine, including the house owner’s family. Akhi said she and more than 35 other people share a toilet as her house owner provided one toilet for all the tenants. Tenants expressed more dissatisfaction than house owners, as they had to share a toilet with more than 30–50 people. The poorest families in the study had to share a toilet with a higher number of families than well-off families. Approximately 7% of the respondents in Korail said that sometimes they defecated in the open space or near the lake due to inadequate sanitation. Many children used the yard or open spaces to defecate. To measure the affordability and cost of sanitation, I looked at monetary, health, and social costs. Existing toilets were in poor condition due to the lack of proper maintenance. One reason is that most residents do not fully understand the importance of hygienic sanitation. Ventilation and lights were not appropriately set up and water was not available in latrines. Moreover, state agencies do not tend to see sanitation as a necessary condition of economic development or a source of improved welfare. Therefore, respondents in Korail expressed their dissatisfaction with sanitation. According to the community leader Majid, Before, many people defecated in the lake; now time are changing. The population also increasing every day. The proportion between the number of toilets and the population is still inadequate. For 175,000 people, there are around 1,500 latrines including hanging latrines. Some NGOs provided materials for public latrines free of cost, and we built latrines by ourselves. A few NGOs provided loans for sanitation to the house owners. Like Majid, many respondents said that there were not enough latrines for the population and its needs. Though sanitation is socially and economically worthwhile, no government institutions or private agencies provided the necessary funding to build required latrine. Many respondents reported that they came late to work due to the queues outside latrines. Poor sanitation, therefore, leads to loss of time. There is also a health cost to poor sanitation. Most Korail residents still used unhygienic shared latrines (Figure 4.4), resulting in diarrhea and other health issues. The interior and exterior of the toilets were filthy and unhygienic due to open sewerage, which results in the accumulation of bacteria and parasites. These latrines are usually constructed on the shores of the lake, and the sewerage is dispersed into the water. Some Korail house owners hired sweepers to empty waste from the toilets; the sweepers often dump the waste in the lake. They have no other option but to dump it in the lake. Many poor families use lake water, which puts them at health risk. Human excreta pollute nearby water sources and the environment, increasing public health risks. Many Korail children became sick from dysentery, which was directly related to poor sanitation. They had to admit them to the hospital, which increased their medical costs. Sharing public toilets causes further problems for women and girls. Many of them were harassed and assaulted there, particularly at night. Few were abducted

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  115 when they used public toilets. One respondent’s neighbor, Hafiza, was sexually harassed when she approached a public toilet at night. She dropped out of school because of mental trauma. Many female respondents felt insecure and believe that they did not have enough privacy. Hanging latrines could be dangerous for children unless an adult accompanied them. Moreover, many toilets are often temporarily unusable because of the lack of proper maintenance. To get better sanitation, they built social networks with NGOs through community projects. According to respondents, sanitation was the most neglected service. Numerous Korail residents recently used new community pit latrines built with materials provided by the NGOs. These are hygienic only if water is available. Two NGOs have encouraged house owners to build sanitary latrines by providing them with loans. Some respondents also reported that, if needed, they could use a neighbor’s toilet. In BRP, though each family has access to individual sanitation facilities, many of them were dissatisfied with the small size of their toilet. Respondents reported that when they were purchasing the flats, they expected the toilet would be bigger. They said that the toilet’s small size (20.67 sq. ft.) made it difficult to use the latrine and bath comfortably. They were upset that they could not expand the toilet. Inadequate ventilation and light (Figure 4.3) ensured the toilets were dark even during the day, and it was laborious to dispose of odors spreading throughout the house. Although the BRP’s sanitation is better than Korail, the flats are not as hygienic as they should be due to the lack of proper ventilation and light.

Figure 4.4  Korail’s Kitchen and Bathroom in a Same Place Source: Fieldwork

116  Informalization of Formal Utility Access Nobody is satisfied with Korail’s sanitation. Though some of influential house owners built individual toilets for themselves, they reported that the lack of a formal sewerage system ensured that sanitation in Korail was poor. Many house owners reported that their septic tank has never been emptied because most of them were connected to open ground or directly to the lake. Respondents reported that if the city authority had taken the initiative and connected their sanitation with the public sewerage, the environment would have been better. Most Korail respondents considered themselves to be at the lower level of inclusion in access to sanitation. They also expected further community-based projects with the NGOs and DNCC to build toilets. Waste Management Proper waste management is essential for any neighborhood. Without an appropriate waste management service, a neighborhood remains unhygienic and unhealthy. As citizens, poor neighborhood residents have the right to waste management services. Waste management service requires an efficient and community-supported integrated system. This can be provided by DNCC through sorting and treatment facilities, dumps and bins, trucks, and transfer stations. Korail residents were more severely affected by unsustainably managed waste than BRP inhabitants. In BRP, waste service is available and well arranged by the BRP office. Respondents reported that the BRP staff carried out garbage collection twice a week, and the BRP office monitored the process. Each flat resident placed a waste box in front of the door, and the waste collector picked it up and returned the empty box.

Figure 4.5  Waste Collection and Dispose in Korail Source: Fieldwork

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  117 In contrast, the Korail residents do not have access to waste disposal (­Figure 4.5). According to an official of DNCC: “It was difficult to collect waste from every corner of Korail. The huge size of garbage collection truck could not reach Korail due to narrow access to the route, lack of resources, and manpower.” Due to the lack of garbage containers from the municipality, 35% of Korail respondents admitted that they disposed of solid wastes in their surroundings, particularly in open space, lakeside roads, and the lake. This has resulted in an unhealthy and unhygienic environment. The DNCC’s job is to collect garbage from the main road by sending trucks. A few years ago, the DNCC provided a single municipal dustbin truck close to T&T colony’s main road. It is difficult for the residents to make the long trek to dispose of their domestic garbage in the municipal dustbin. There is a community waste management project in Korail, though numerous respondents avoided participation in it. Instead, they disposed of their waste through informal means, such as casting it into the lake. In the absence of formal waste management within their neighborhood, the Korail Development Committee leaders initiated a community participation project with the help of the city corporation and two NGOs. Each NGO supplied 50 vans; therefore, 100 vans collect garbage from every household and dispose it of in the municipal dustbin point on the main road. The number of vans was inadequate for more than 175,000  people. BRP respondents reported that for garbage collection they had to pay 100 taka (US$94) per month along with a service charge. In Korail, each room in a house is required to pay 50 taka (US$0.47) per month through which the van driver’s salary is paid. Many respondents said they mostly dumped their household wastes in the lake, as paying around 50 taka (US$0.47) per month was too expensive for them. Therefore, only 31 respondents (31%) subscribed to this service. Among them, some respondents are happy that they can systematically dispose of their waste. Some of the respondents are forced to pay this money because their house owners use this service. There is also plenty of waste on the roadside as nobody from the Korail community monitors this. People said that two-thirds of waste generated in Korail was not collected. Food waste, paper, rubbish, roadside litter, household products, vehicles, damaged toys, and old clothes litter open spaces. Around 22% of the respondents are unenthusiastic about paying this fee because of the cost and inadequacy of the service. They claim that the waste collected by the city corporation’s truck is dumped in the water or burnt within the Korail’s open areas, which causes water, land, and air pollution. Many respondents are dissatisfied with the amount of money they had to pay for garbage collection in both neighborhoods. Approximately 57% of respondents of both neighborhoods revealed that they preferred to dump their waste in the lake or open drainage instead of spending money. Drainage and drain clogging are important for neighborhood health and environmental conditions. Several NGOs tried to raise awareness about the relations between health, sanitation, and the environment, though I found many drains blocked with garbage and solid waste in Korail. According to the respondents, a few NGOs assisted them in repairing drains and walkways to prevent waterlogging. They believed that poor waste management harmed their socio-economic,

118  Informalization of Formal Utility Access political, and cultural lives. Dumping waste beside the road has resulted in the infrequent cleaning of storm-water sewers. Since the city authority does not clean these drains, blocked drainage creates contamination. Environmental pollution is increasing, and people are suffering from various diseases. Many Korail respondents were confused as to whether the DNCC or DWASA was responsible for maintaining the city’s solid waste management system. An official of DWASA informed me that, the city’s storm-water drainage responsibilities are shared with the city corporation, and according to this law, the city corporation is responsible for the cleaning and maintaining of smaller drainage pipes, while DWASA is responsible for maintaining larger canals and storm-water pipes of the city. According to him, “Whereas we are struggling to provide sanitation services to residential and commercial areas with our limited resources, it is challenging for us to think about the drainage systems of informal neighborhoods without the support of other agencies.” He also added that neither DNCC nor DWASA have enough resources or a big enough workforce to provide adequate waste management services to the informal neighborhoods. His interview indicates that local governments also are not capable of doing so. It also indicates a lack of will from the state service providers, politicians, and NGOs to address sanitation issues. In the case of waste management, BRP residents possess access to a stable service that they receive from the BRP office in exchange for monthly payment. Korail residents do not have regular access to a similar service. One of the members of the Korail committee said that, like DWASA water, there is no direct involvement from the DNCC or any NGO in regard to waste collection. Therefore, people do not take the issue of littering seriously. The residents of the two neighborhoods possess different types of waste management systems. Both neighborhoods possessed formal service, but neither of them were from the city corporation. The Korail committee supervised Korail’s service, whereas the BRP office provided the service. This service is a necessity to ensure cleanliness and hygiene; however, some respondents in both neighborhoods consider that paying money regularly for garbage collection is expensive. Electricity Electricity is another utility important for inclusion. Electricity is an essential tool for people’s everyday livelihoods, socio-economic development, poverty mitigation, and education. Residents’ productivity may increase if electricity is available to them in their neighborhoods. Services such as street lighting may ensure the safety of people’s movement at night. Plenty of small entrepreneurs not only improve their quality of life by engaging in manufacturing but also develop the country economically. Moreover, these entrepreneurs create job opportunities within the community and encourage others to get involved in production. If people received access to electricity, they could conduct more productive business, and

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  119 their literacy, health, economic opportunities, and participation in the labor market might increase. In 1997, when the Bangladesh government first published a National Energy Policy, there was no proposal to deliver affordable and reliable electricity to the urban poor. However, the renewed policy of 2004 stated that the objective of the present government was to ensure an available, affordable, and reliable supply of electricity to all citizens by 2021 (International Institute for Sustainable Development 2013). In this policy, the government discussed the status and impact of electricity access for all citizens and identified the policy barriers hindering access (GOB 2004). The reality is that many informal neighborhoods of Dhaka still do not have legal electricity. Many poor neighborhoods have access to informal electricity, but these informal strategies are usually unreliable and risky, high cost, and lack stability and continuity. In this section, I discuss the level of inclusion in terms of electricity in both neighborhoods. Subsequent sub-sections will discuss how and who supplies legal and non-legal connections, whether these supplies are secure or risky. Finally, it will compare the respondents’ satisfaction based on accessibility, affordability and costs, stability of access, and social network. The BRP residents have 100% accessibility to formal electricity because they possess legal status. The BRP office centrally controls this electricity, which comes from DESCO. There is a substation from DESCO to bring electricity to BRP. Several staff members, known as BRP’s utility staff, manage this substation. Their job is to manage the circulation of power from this substation and alleviate the potential for a power supply crisis. Each flat has an electric meter, based on the client’s electricity usage. Only a few Korail residents had access to formal electricity supply. Most Korail residents got electricity informally, but it was often at a high cost. Approximately 4% of the Korail respondents had no access to electricity due to poverty, although their house owners’ or neighbors’ houses had connections. Their children were not able to read in the evening. However, 96% of the respondents had access to electricity. As electricity networks require public investment and willingness of the formal service providers, it is difficult for an informal neighborhood to get electricity due to its lack of legal status. The majority of the informal service providers tapped illegal connections from DESCO, Dhaka’s electricity provider. Other informal service providers brought connections from other sources. I discuss here how formal connections were made with DESCO and how this formal connection supplied others illegally through a multiplying system (Table 4.3). The ultimate source of most electricity was the formal service provider, DESCO. There were both legal and illegal means through which Korail residents had access to electricity. There were five sources: a legal subscription to DESCO, tapping a neighborhood electric line or main road’s power pillars, buying from someone with a legal subscription, purchasing from someone who has a tapped line from other neighborhoods, and solar panels. Approximately 6% of the respondents recently began to utilize solar panels. To get solar panels requires some money, but they also give a certain amount of autonomy. First, I will discuss the process of making illegal connections. Then I will explain how legal connections came.

120  Informalization of Formal Utility Access Table 4.3  Sources of Electricity in Both Neighborhoods Name of Modes

A legal subscription to DESCO Tapping a neighborhood electric line Buying from someone who has a legal subscription Buying from someone who has a tapped line Solar panels No connection Total

BRP

Korail

Number %

Number %

18 — — — — — 18

4 21 26 14 4 3 72

100 — — — — — 100

6 29 36 19 6 4 100

Source: Fieldwork

Kuber accounted his informal efforts to connect electricity with aid from a g­ overnment official. Kuber was the first individual to steal electricity from the Gulshan neigborhood connection. In an interview, he presented the story of the illumination of Korail. “I had just migrated from my village in Karimgonj,” he began, I didn’t have a place to stay in this metropolis. I came here to earn a living, with no more than 800 Taka ($7.48) in my pocket. I rented a room, and I began in petty businesses. There was no electricity at home, but the rest of the city was blazing with bright lights. I wondered and pondered about my role in developing Korail. In the meantime, I involved myself in party politics. Why didn’t the government provide us electricity? After a while, I met powerful political leaders. I informed them of my queries. They assured me they would consult the relevant authorities. But they told me nothing more. One day, I went to the electricity office (DESCO) to discuss the issue. I asked them about the legal process of acquiring electricity. I offered them large bribes so that they would look after the legalities and paperwork, but they delayed longer and longer and finally welshed on their promises altogether. One day, when I unleashed my anger and frustration on an official who didn’t follow up on his promises despite receiving money, he tried to calm me down and took me to dinner with two of his colleagues at a restaurant. They informed me that they left no legal stone unturned to provide electricity in the settlement, but it couldn’t be done because of the lack of legal status. If Korail residents wanted electricity, the only way was to steal it, which was a very risky affair. They said that if I could do that, I would become very rich, but if I failed, then I would have to pay a huge price, even my life. They showed me how and from where I could get a connection. They also told me that since they were government officers, they would deny all involvement with me if I got caught and would not take any responsibility. Otherwise, they risked losing their jobs as well. So, they gave me two verbal conditions. I couldn’t utter their names if the police caught me, and if I succeeded, I had to give them 40% of my profit. Subsequently, I met those officials several times even in the middle of the night to plan to

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  121 steal electricity. The officials showed few houses in Gulshan. Among them, I pointed out a house owned by a retired Inspector General of police, who did not even live in the house as he was in the USA. I cultivated a friendship with the house’s night guard who used to live in Korail and a month later, I offered him 10,000 Taka ($94) and requested his help in diverting the connection. He agreed, and at three in the morning, I looped long strands of wire, hid them alongside the lake, and got electricity by pilfering it from the opposite side of the lake. Since that day, Korail was dark no more. It too started enjoying the blessing of electricity. Following Kuber’s footsteps, some local mastaans attempted to get electricity by stealing from the line on the main road. The DECSO officials who initially aided the local leaders to connect considered the situation out of hand. As many connections as there were before, they were stolen from different neighborhoods. The escalation of the electricity theft spurred DESCO to disconnect the illegal lines to Korail. DESCO officials agreed to install a few of their electricity lines after consultation with Korail Bazaar Somiti (a politically influential local committee) leaders, which acted like a CBO at that time. Approximately 20 influential house owners submitted applications on the behalf of Korail Bazaar Somiti. In 2002–2003, Korail was covered by a new formal connection by DESCO. According to Hasib, during the former BNP government in 2002–2003, the Korail Bazaar Somiti decided to bring DESCO connections only for shops in the bazaar. Few DESCO officials sat down with the Somiti members on numerous occasions and agreed to provide a connection. Members who were given this connection would have to pay a large sum of money while ensuring the connection of their electricity lines through sub-meters. If these conditions were followed, the DESCO officials would upgrade the connections unofficially from 3 to 10 KW capacities, but they claimed a monthly commission. This Somiti undertook decisions on behalf of the community in regard to electricity service. The majority of members possessed a strong political background, and many of them worked as the muscle power of then ruling party leaders. However, those officials informed them that these 20 house owners would have to pay around 450,000 taka (US$4212) to get connection. This would be bundled together to create a connection that would have to be settled in one person’s name. The majority of them were disappointed to hear this and gave up the idea of gaining a DESCO connection. However, five to six house owners who were interested chose the person that would be officially approved for the connection. Among them, Shahid was a very influential local leader of the ruling party at that time. He finally received a DESCO connection in the Jamai bazaar. That was the first connection to Korail from DESCO. Following Shahid’s footsteps, three more influential local leaders took a line from DESCO. Since they had an upgraded connection, they started to resell electricity at high prices to other shops and homes. A DESCO official said in his interview that those in power practiced different forms of corruption. These included non-legal connections to informal neighborhoods, shops, industries, erroneous meter reading, meddling with meters, taking

122  Informalization of Formal Utility Access bribes during the setting up of a new connection, collusion with contractors in the procurement of materials, etc. They could not do anything because of the vicious syndicates within which local goons serve as intermediaries. These goons managed informal connections through their relationships with street officials, such as police, audit officials, and electricians. The duty police, in turn, have corrupt relationships with low-level officials of DESCO. In exchange for bribes, the lower officials manage the other formalities, including approval from the upper-level bureaucrats. Corruption occurred at multiple levels. A few powerful local leaders could get a formal electricity connection from DESCO by using their political network, bribery, and collusion. Those who could deposit the money in advance and possessed political connections would subscribe to DESCO’s connection. Although formal electricity was available in BRP, it was difficult for some respondents to afford it. The BRP office collected an additional 100–200 taka (US$0.93–1.88) monthly for lights in the balconies and stairways, generator, and common meter (for compound lightening, water pump) as part of the cooperative fee. The BRP respondents paid for their own electricity according to meter readings, which might range from 400 taka (US$3.75) to 800 taka (US$7.49). Korail Bazaar Somiti members who got a connection from the DESCO authorized line had to pay a regular bribe a month during that time. They could offer connections to shops and nearby houses, and they could earn at least 50,000 (US$468) after paying the fees to those DESCO officials and police who helped them. A legal DESCO holder might provide a connection to many houses. For example, where a fan and a light together can cost 100 taka (US$0.94) per month, the tenant has to pay 300 taka (US$2.80) per month. Gradually, this number kept increasing. The bill per meter has increased, and many of the tenants have TVs, mobile phones, and refrigerators in their houses. As a result, electricity costs have increased accordingly. Most Korail house owners could not subscribe to DESCO’s power supply legally. First, they did not have a house-holding number, and second, they could not afford the high cost of electrical accessories and connection, including installation and meter. For example, a huge amount of money is needed to receive new connection from DESCO in the neighborhood. The majority of the house owners, therefore, get their electricity informally, which is less costly. Numerous respondents said that if the government provided electricity to them directly at a reasonable price, the money would go to the state treasury instead of political leaders, local goons, police, and DESCO officials. Mohima, a key informant said, If the state agreed to provide electricity, nobody would get connected through informal service providers. Owing to the inadequate supply of electricity, the urban poor like us suffer. It directly affects not only the country’s economy, but our economy as well. Usage varies from one house to another within Korail, based on the pathway to get power and negotiations with informal service providers and house owners. The regular mode of payment is to pay the electricity bill by meter. For example, the

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  123 BRP respondents pay what the meter reader says. However, in Korail, a house owner decides what amount to charge a tenant per month for a light, fan, or other electronics. Different house owners calculate utility bills differently. For example, Khadija paid 150 taka (US$1.40) per light bulb monthly, whereas Laily paid 180  taka (US$1.68). Informal service providers supply electricity to the house owners at double or triple the legal price, and house owners often charge the price of electricity to tenants. Poor tenants pay more for electricity than legal users of DESCO power. Despite their access to formal electricity, numerous BRP respondents were dissatisfied with the extra payment for common usage. It was difficult for them to accept that, even if a resident has not resided in the flat for a few months, they would still have to pay the utility bill. When they resided in old settlement, they did not have to pay such bills if they were not present. They could disconnect a utility line whenever they wanted. However, as they presently live in a cooperative, they cannot disconnect utility lines at will. They believe, therefore, that they are losing money. In contrast, when a Korail tenant wanted to disconnect for few months, it was possible to do so. In Korail, many respondents possessed a low level of satisfaction due to the high cost, lack of stable access, and quality of service. Now only a few powerful people have electricity through DESCO; it is not available to all. Influential local leaders could buy formal lines from DESCO and supply numerous informal connections from that legal connection. Rest of the residents were receiving electricity through these informal service providers; however, they considered themselves excluded as they were getting high-cost, low-quality, unreliable, and non-legal electricity. An informal service provider mentioned that more than 30,000 families live in Korail, and more than 25,000 families were connected informally. According to Fotik, an associate of an informal service provider, These informal power lines pose serious dangers to our community. A few informal service providers operate these illegal electricity connections. They supply electricity with the support of corrupt officials and DESCO staff. As the state does not directly provide electricity service to every house, the deprived house-owners have to find another way to get electricity. So, the state provokes the informal service providers to supply electricity through informal means, which causes serious accidents. The electricity business of Korail ran through a combination of corruption and political relations. Numerous respondents who were incapable of gaining a formal power supply reported that people would not buy electricity from the informal providers at a high cost if DESCO provided low-cost affordable power with minimum safety hazards. The lack of adequate legal connections deprived most of the people in Korail, while simultaneously, it enabled numerous influential informal service providers to become extremely powerful and earn a lot. Powerful residents maintained patron-client relationships with high-level political leaders and influenced the bureaucracy through their political networks. If they could manage

124  Informalization of Formal Utility Access these legitimate connections through bribes and political networks, they could gain DESCO connections. Cooking Gas Natural gas is the major source of energy for cooking in Bangladesh. City dwellers can get a legal natural gas connection from six gas distribution companies in exchange for a fixed monthly payment; consumers recently paid 975 taka (US$9.12) for a double burner and 925 taka (US $8.65) for a single burner. Titas gas company supplies natural gas for several districts of Bangladesh. As Bangladesh extracts natural gas and city residents use it for cooking, poor urban residents have the same expectation. A local leader of Korail said, “It is the discrimination of the state that we do not have access to cooking gas.” Moreover, rapid urbanization has made it difficult to get alternative sources of cooking fuel such as wood or charcoal. The government is interested in decreasing the pollution involved in using charcoal or wood. There is, however, still no central organization to solve the gas problems in informal neighborhoods. Titas gas officials said that residents of informal neighborhoods do not possess authorized land or house ownership; therefore, they cannot access gas from the Titas Company. The government is hesitant to provide infrastructure to improve access to energy in poor neighborhoods as it would legitimate informal neighborhoods. Moreover, it would encourage more people to migrate from village to town. This section discusses accessibility to cooking gas in both neighborhoods. It shows how and who connects and supplies cooking gas and whether these sources are safe and secure. Finally, it will compare inclusion based on legality, accessibility, affordability and costs, stability of access, and quality of service (Figure 4.6). Due to their legality, BRP respondents have access to formal gas. As with electricity, the Korail residents are deprived of formal Titas gas due to their lack of legal housing. The majority of the Korail respondents expressed their views that

Figure 4.6 Cooking Sources in Korail: LPG Gas in Mini-Hotel, and Clay Stoves in the Walkway Source: Fieldwork

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  125 the lack of a legal gas line made their everyday lives miserable. They said they have the right to this facility as the rest of the city dwellers receive the benefit of natural gas; however, the whole Korail gets it through informal means. The informal service providers who provided gas through illegal connections said that they would not provide gas if the state ran a line to Korail. People actually use multiple sources of cooking fuel in both BRP and Korail. BRP respondents said that despite having access to formal gas, they needed to rely on other sources due to the lack of adequate gas pressure. Korail respondents use different sources as there is no formal gas service. Table 4.4 shows that 78% of the Korail respondents used gas stoves through non-legal gas connections, smuggled in from other neighborhoods. In Korail, every household either has a kerosene or clay stove as an alternative technology. A few wealthier households had an LPG (Liquefied Petroleum Gas) cylinder, though they generally used an informal gas connection. It is not easy to find the tree branches and wood to fuel clay stoves. Moreover, many small entrepreneurs make a living by manufacturing various products which require gas; these include street food producers, hotel, and tea stall owners. Titas gas lines are connected informally within Korail, and Kuber was the first person to establish an illegal connection. Although very few shops and homes were connected at that time, gas connections are now in almost every house. There are many tea stalls and hotels in bazaars where people use illegal gas stoves, which is an open secret (Figure 4.6). BRP residents have to spend more money for cooking gas than Korail residents. Around 88% of the BRP respondents reported that they were dissatisfied with the fact that they could not use gas due to inadequate pressure though they were paying. Instead, they had to spend extra money for kerosene stoves to substitute for gas. Though few BRP respondents possessed an electric stove, nobody in Korail used them due to the high cost of electricity. A Korail house owner determines how much a tenant pays for cooking gas. For example, a house owner who possesses five rooms calculates the cost for his double burners by dividing the 1200 taka (US$11.23) by six users, including himself. Every user would pay 200 taka (US$1.87) per month for that illegal gas connection. It would depend Table 4.4  Sources of Gas Name of Source

Formal gas connection Informal gas connection LPG cylinder Kerosene stove Clay stove Electric stove Source: Fieldwork

BRP

Korail

Number

%

Number

%

18 — 3 11 — 3

100 — 17 61 — 17

0 56 4 35 26 —

0 78 6 49 36 —

126  Informalization of Formal Utility Access

Figure 4.7  BRP Respondents’ Utility Bill Receipts Source: Fieldwork

upon the number of burners the owner has and the total number of tenants as well. If there are fewer tenants, the individual, gas bill rises. Korail tenants said that they had to pay in between 200 and 250 taka (US$1.87–2.34) for gas. The BRP respondents pay a fixed fee of 450 taka (US$4.21) per month. This is more than what the Korail respondents pay. It may go up further, since the government a few

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  127 years back increased the price of Titas gas from 450 taka (US$4.21) to 975 taka (US$9.12) for double burners, while BRP residents still continue to pay the previous price (US$4.21). BRP residents predicted that they would have to purchase gas at the new price (US$9.12) pretty soon; however, the new pricing is not applied to them yet. If the new pricing is applied, BRP residents will have to pay four times the amount that Korail residents pay for gas connections. Though a Korail house owner has to pay more than a BRP flat owner, the Korail owner can share the gas bill with the tenants. In many cases, Korail house owners fixed the house rent, including utility charges, which was more convenient for the tenants. This is not possible for the BRP flat owner. Regarding affordability, Kuber said: It was not so easy to bring a gas connection to Korail. When I brought the connection, I had to negotiate with street-level officers of Titas Gas Company and pay a large sum of money. Now those who are connecting lines also have to keep paying for these connections monthly. Numerous respondents mentioned that despite the large sums the local leaders earn for gas service, a sizeable percentage of the money has to be spent to manage the Titas officials and the police. Ultimately, they are content as they are receiving gas. People calculate inadequate gas differently in BRP and Korail. In BRP, it is the level of gas pressure. The gas stoves provide only low heat in BRP, which results in lengthy cooking times. BRP also faced no gas for several periods. Many women work and cannot tend meals for long durations. BRP respondent Sajeda said, Because of the gas scarcity in our neighborhood, either I wake up at 4 am and cook, or I have to wait until I come back from work. If guests visit, it would be embarrassing because I cannot cook for them. It extremely expensive to have an electric stove, and I cannot afford to buy meals for the children’s lunch. Sometimes the gas goes out for two to three days. Those of us with young children suffered a lot because of the low gas or no gas. Like Sajeda, every BRP respondent said it was in dire need of better gas. Nazia prepared food at home and supplied it to food shops in the market. The lack of gas, however, has incapacitated this business. Her contract was canceled as she failed to provide food on time. Other stoves, such as mud stoves can be arranged in the absence of gas in Korail, but it is difficult in BRP flats. Similarly, the use of a cylinder gas or electric stove requires permission from the BRP office. In contrast, Korail residents do not need permission to use multiple stoves. The BRP respondents reported that they must pay for both natural gas and kerosene if they use kerosene stoves due to low gas pressure (Figure 4.7). Not everyone had their own gas stove: for example, eight to ten families in Korail could share two burners. Generally, an ordinary house owner brings in two burners. Influential house owners may have more. In Korail, it is a question of access to burners. As the number of stoves was less than the number of households, most

128  Informalization of Formal Utility Access

Figure 4.8 Informal Utility Connections: a Korail Kid Playing Next to the Risky Utility Lines Source: Fieldwork

respondents suffered from inadequate gas. For example, Korimon was ­cooking at 11 a.m. When I met her, 5–6 other women were waiting in a queue to cook after her. Some Korail respondents were very poor and incapable of paying gas bills, while others were not interested since they had to wait in a long queue. A few Korail respondents, who could afford it, mentioned that they were thinking of buying LPG cylinders/bottles from private companies, but LPG is more expensive than Titas gas. A 12.5 kg LPG cylinder costs from 1,300 taka to 1,550 taka (US$12.16–14.50), and two are needed monthly. Regarding Korail, an official of Titas gas said, The state decided to stop piped gas connections to regular households, given the dwindling gas production in the gas fields. Only industries and power plants have been prioritized for formal gas connections. In this context, the LPG cylinder will be the main source of gas for people who do not already have a gas connection. As informal neighborhood residents do not have house-holding numbers and they live on government land, our agency would not be able to supply gas under existing law. It is true that they are managing gas illegally, but if the government provided LPG cylinders at lower prices to poor people, the poor would benefit. It might also lessen the tendency for illegal connections, which is very dangerous. However, it is costly for the poorer families to use LPG as an alternative to Titas gas; therefore, they use kerosene or clay stoves in most cases. It is more difficult for the poorest groups in Korail, especially those who live in Jhupri, as they cannot get illegal gas connections. The official also said that illegal gas connections are exacerbating the gas crisis. As formal gas was available in the BRP, there was no such risk, although many respondents said that the quality of the pipes in the kitchen was poor. In contrast, Korail’s gas lines are hazardous. I witnessed two large fires during fieldwork, and many residents blamed it on the risky gas lines. The respondents mentioned that

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  129 gas lines were spread across the Korail like spider webs. There were two recent fires where 526 houses were burnt in December 2016, and around 4,996 ghors (rooms) burnt in another fire on 16 March 2017. The respondents said that if the government had connected the gas lines to the Korail legally, they would not risk their lives. After that fire, many Korail residents were afraid to use gas. Halima mentioned she could not use a gas stove now as she had lost everything in that fire. She now uses a mud stove. Halima said, That night I was in a deep sleep when I could hear the shouting of “fire, fire.” At the very first moment, I couldn’t understand. When I felt the heat of the fire, I just ran with two children, but I had one more on the bed and the fire spread to my room. I was shouting, “help,” because one of my children was in the room, on the bed. A man saved my son. Otherwise, I would have lost him! Halima suffered serious trauma, as she feared for children. Respondents like Halima have experienced the destruction of belongings as fires occurred. They wanted legal and reliable gas service for their safety. Korail respondents also reported that though they managed gas through illegal means, it was not permanent. Sometimes, police cut the lines and disrupted their cooking. Then respondents had to cook with kerosene or clay stoves. The primary concern of this discussion was to whether the respondents were able to get natural gas, as a gas connection from the state-owned company is usual in urban areas of Bangladesh. Despite their public gas connection, none of the BRP respondents were highly satisfied due to the low pressure. Nor was anyone among the 72 Korail respondents satisfied with gas accessibility. For the poorest groups, it becomes difficult in Korail to access cooking gas due to the cost. Lack of access to gas reduces the income of small entrepreneurs in both Korail and BRP. However, some Korail respondents were satisfied in a sense that at least they had an informal gas supply in absence of formal connection. Most Korail respondents reported that they feel excluded due to the inaccessibility and risky connections. They blamed fires on poor gas lines. In Chapter 3, I talked of people blaming fires on developers who wanted them to move out. Fires due to poor gas lines are more convincing. During the fieldwork, I saw numerous hazardous gas lines, from which fires could break out. I also saw children playing next to these lines, which was very risky (Figure 4.8). The mastaans connected the illegal gas lines, on the one hand, the police disconnected on the other; however, after bribery transactions with the duty police and some Titas officials, they reconnected them. These activities with gas connections are quite risky and can lead to many accidents. Conclusion: Gaining Access to Utilities This chapter discussed the differences in the inclusion levels of the two neighborhoods in terms of basic utilities. The BRP residents received utilities from the state due to their legal housing. The residents of Korail have access to the

130  Informalization of Formal Utility Access utilities through various processes. Due to the lack of proper housing ownership ­documentation, they did not have formal access to water, sanitation, waste management, electricity, and gas. Community participation with NGOs and local government institutions did get them some access to formal utilities in Korail. In addition to social networks through community participation, Korail residents also become involved in politics to get utilities from formal service providers. When they failed to get utilities directly from formal service providers, they informally arranged for the utilities through political networks and by offering bribes. For water, electricity, and cooking gas, they also tapped connections from adjacent neighborhoods despite differences in legal access; respondents in both neighborhoods use informal sources. BRP respondents have recourse to informal sources in crises, but Korail respondents are dependent on informal sources. For example, BRP respondents have formal access; however, sometimes they use informal sources in a crisis moment, whereas most Korail respondents are dependent on them. Though each flat in BRP pays similar amounts, in Korail, different categories of people pay different amounts due to diverse connections. There are also differences in payment systems. In Korail, since house owners determine the rate tenants to pay for utilities, rates can vary from household to household. Tenants can reduce utility rates through bargaining with house owners. Many Korail house owners fixed the house rent, including utility charges, which was more convenient for the tenants. In BRP, besides utility bills, every resident must pay a fixed service charge. Though most Korail residents have access to utilities through informal service providers, some poorest people are less included due to high costs. Many poor families manage to get water from informal sources, such as a street-side pipe, a mosque, or Gulshan Lake. They are excluded from electricity service. In Korail, the clients can disconnect or reconnect at any time, which is not possible for BRP respondents. The majority of Korail respondents have a higher level of flexibility in their utility payments than their counterparts in BRP. The BRP management provided utilities through state networks, while Korail house owners were usually responsible for providing utility connections to their tenants. If a Korail house owner could not provide regular utilities, the owner would lose tenants and face financial loss. The Korail respondents, both owners and tenants, were satisfied with informal services because they could survive in the city. Korail residents increased social networks and continued their struggles to gain inclusion. Legal versus illegal status offered different levels of inclusion and citizenship in urban Dhaka. Legal status could make BRP respondents feel included. The lack of legal status confirms the Korail respondents’ instability regarding housing and formal utility inclusion. Despite the possession of formal utilities in BRP, the respondents still felt excluded. First, they felt prices were high; second, the provision was not always regular and of quality, such as low-pressure gas for cooking; third, they felt that the BRP office was corrupt regarding payments. Some BRP respondents organized collective protests against the corruption of the BRP management, which I discuss in detail in Chapter 6.

Informalization of Formal Utility Access  131 It can be said that although BRP people have more access to housing and ­utilities than Korail residents, it is not a binary situation. BRP residents, although having access to state housing, are not entirely included, while Korail residents have managed to get some utilities housing stability, even though they are not legally entitled. Das (2011) showed how objects such as electricity meters, water, and paper documents certify property ownership, becoming material elements for establishing the right to live in a neighborhood. For Korail residents, claims to these material elements such as water, sanitation, waste management, electricity, and cooking gas are not only about utility inclusion but also demand for inclusive citizenship with entitlement rights, belonging, and recognition. Claims to utilities are thus both about citizenship as a form of recognition and also claims to the essential benefits that decrease their exclusion and increase inclusion. Though Korail residents believed that “we are also citizens,” elite residents might think that they would face utility scarcity if the informal neighborhoods were given utilities. It may be that they are afraid to lose the regular flow of utilities they have. The nature of corruption, which provides barriers to inclusion, patterns of protest, and political action for establishing entitlement rights, will be revealed in Chapter 6. Chapter 5 will discuss the levels of inclusion of the respondents in these two neighborhoods regarding socio-economic services such as health, education, and employment. Note 1 A CBO was organized specifically to operate the DSK water system.

5

The Right to the Services

Three services are essential for inclusion: health, education, and employment. The lack of access to these services adversely affects the everyday lives of the urban poor of Dhaka. Lack of access to adequate health care and medicines may restrict ability to work. Similarly, lack of education may prevent people from attending school and deprive them of a well-remunerated job. Services may facilitate income-generating activities that enable people to become more active citizens. These are essential aspects of human rights of citizenship, belonging, and development. Access to these services allows people to maintain a healthy urban life, participate in socio-political activities, and develop their generation and the next generation. Objectives include ensuring primary health care for all citizens as per Section 15 (A) of the constitution and developing the people’s health and nutrition as per Section 18 (1) and improving a system that ensures sustained availability of health services by establishing community clinics for every 6,000 people (GOB 2011b). The constitution also recognizes education as a fundamental right for all. The government formulated several national policies to promote inclusive health and education for all. Moreover, Bangladesh has signed the SDGs, which obliges the country to ensure access to services for all the citizens and increase safety and inclusivity among cities and neighborhoods. It also aspires to achieve universal health coverage by 2032. If the government can ensure health and education services for all, it can help the inclusion of the poor. Despite the constitution, national policies, and international commitments to ensure equal services to all citizens, there are gaps between policymakers and the poor. The poorest of the city remain excluded (Lewis 2018; Mosse 2007). Access to one service depends upon the level of access to another. A low standard of living with inadequate services affects not only access to education but also nutrition, access to health care, and future employment prospects. This chapter will address the situation in the Korail and BRP neighborhoods. Does everyone have equal access to public services? If not, do they possess alternative sources for them? Can the private sector and NGOs play a role in providing alternative services in the face of inaccessibility? To measure the inclusiveness of services, I have used the following indicators: availability, affordability, quality of service, and social networks. This chapter consists of four sections. The first three DOI: 10.4324/9781003414315-6

The Right to the Services  133 sections will discuss access to health, education, and employment, respectively. The conclusion summarizes the chapter. Health Care Access to quality health services is important in many ways. Good physical health saves medical costs. It not only encourages children to attend school, but it also helps them to obtain greater knowledge (Mannan 2013). Good health can help the urban poor, who possess limited access to assets and the economic market, to develop their economic and social life. If the poor do not receive adequate health services from the state, it restricts them from going to work, or their children cannot attend school because of the lack of proper medication. They will be deprived of good jobs due to a lack of education. Therefore, it is important to incorporate health-care facilities into general economic and social arrangements. Sen (2015) argues that all the factors are interrelated: it is important to give centrality to health to enhance human capabilities. Four types of health services exist in Dhaka: public health care, private health care, traditional medicine, and NGO health services. There are three types of systems within public health care, primary health centers, vaccination programs, and hospital structures. There are two types of private practice: individual practitioners and pharmacies. Traditional healers provide traditional medicine. Some NGOs provide health-care services in poor neighborhoods. In this section, I discuss these four health-care provisions in both neighborhoods. Public Health-Care Service

The Ministry of Health and Family Welfare (MOHFW) is responsible for ­providing comprehensive health-care facilities for all the citizens of Bangladesh. Under the supervision of the ministry, local governments and city corporations are responsible for ensuring primary health care. The public secondary and tertiary health-care services in cities are primarily the responsibility of the Ministry of Health. Local governments run small- to medium-sized hospitals and outdoor facilities (GOB  2012b). There are two large-scale primary health-care projects in urban areas, the Urban Primary Health-Care (UPHC) Project and the Smiling Sun Franchise Program. These are directed by NGOs in association with the city corporations and are financed by donors (GOB 2012b). The MOHFW contributes to UPHC through outpatient services distributed by its secondary, tertiary, and specialized hospitals in urban settings. Bangladesh has achieved significant progress in health service provision over the last few years due to increased access to health through a combination of increasing facility levels, and community and household-level service provision strategies; however, challenges remain ­(Mannan 2013). Researchers found that the unavailability of doctors and nurses, their attitudes and behavior, lack of drugs, waiting time, and travel time have contributed to low access to public hospitals (Siddiqui and Khandaker 2007). Public

134  The Right to the Services health services are also unavailable to citizens due to the absence of critical staff, unavailable essential supplies, inadequate facilities, and the low staff service quality (Andaleeb 2000). There are insufficient primary health-care centers in urban areas. However, the Ministry of Local Government initiated the UPHC Delivery Project to provide primary health care from July 2012 onward. This project institutionalizes a sustainable system to deliver pro-poor primary health-care services in urban areas through public-private partnership agreements with NGOs and other service providers. The Ministry of Local Government is the executing agency, and all city corporations are the implementing agencies in their respective project areas. There are 55 UPHC Centers, 10 maternity clinics, and 22 public hospitals in Dhaka. Every five years, they decide which NGO will supervise the maternity hospital for the next five years. According to a local government officer, the UPHC Centers carried out medical care and pathological tests at low cost. Many services were available: reproductive health care, child health care, and vaccination, family planning, adolescent health care, infectious diseases, free tuberculosis diagnosis and treatment, eye diseases, behavioral change through communication, and laboratory facilities. Respondents have a different opinion regarding the availability of services from the UPHC Centers. Many respondents reported that they went to the UPHC Center but did not get the medical services promised. For example, Begum went to the hospital with her sick teenage daughter the day before I met her. I asked if there was an UPHC Center nearby in her neighborhood, and asked her why she didn’t go there? Throwing a counter question to me, she said: They could not give anything except some advice concerning where I should go for better treatment, which I already knew very well. Then why should I go there? Rather I went to DMCH (Dhaka Medical College Hospital) directly without wasting my time in the urban center. She added: “These centers don’t have enough doctors or medicine.” Some respondents were satisfied with their services in UPHC Centers although they reported that there were problems, including a shortage of space and staff crises. As there are not enough medical facilities like hospitals, the patient may have to be admitted to another hospital. Respondents in both neighborhoods unanimously believed that they were more vulnerable to health problems than the rural population. The respondents generally felt more comfortable going directly to DMCH rather than to the UPHC Centers because of the lack of necessary services. According to BRP respondents, there is no hospital in BRP, though the NSPDL and MOL both promised them hospital facilities within the compound. Therefore, they also had to go to DMCH for health-care service. Regarding the immunization program, BRP female respondents said that they did not have access to vaccination programs within the neighborhood like Bhashantek or Korail. BRP female respondents vaccinated their children outside BRP at the

The Right to the Services  135 nearest center, situated in the adjacent bazaar on the opposite side of the BRP, approximately a ten-minute walk away. According to Sajeda, Before buying a flat, we heard that there would be a hospital in BRP. But the reality is that we don’t even have a first-aid facility, let alone a full-fledged hospital. Though it is a formal project, none of the government services work properly. The residents of both neighborhoods are satisfied with the availability of child vaccination programs. Many female respondents (especially those with children) in both neighborhoods expressed their satisfaction with the immunization program. Health Assistants, NGOs health workers, and family planning workers come to their doors, reminding them about vaccinations. Inadequate manpower and financial resources mean that the urban local government bodies provide vaccination through a joint venture with NGOs. People said that they had to stand in long lines at the Expanded Program on Immunization sites until a few years ago. Now, the joint venture makes it easier to get vaccines for children at outreach sites and satellite clinics. This service is no longer time-consuming; instead, it is comfortable, relaxing, and within the neighborhood. Women also reported that although they were afraid of talking with the hospital’s doctors, the female vaccinators were not moody or reserved. Women felt they could share other maternity-related problems with them. The vaccinators often offered suggestions to new mothers about handling newborns and how to feed them properly, which was a tremendous help to residents. Getting services from a government hospital was difficult for the urban poor; however, most of the respondents of both neighborhoods used the services of DMCH in the face of limited services at the UPHC Centers. There are numerous barriers to get health care at government hospitals. First, there is a long queue: a patient might have to wait the entire day to be treated. Since the majority of participants worked in the informal sector, it was difficult to lose a day’s wages due to the long queues in the hospital. Therefore, 17% of respondents tried to avoid to government hospitals. Second, transport to the hospitals including DMCH was difficult, and many did not know how to find the particular person or place they needed when arriving there. Many respondents reported that they became nervous going to the DMCH due to transport and communication hassles. Respondents of both neighborhoods believed that if the public hospital was close to their neighborhoods, then they might have more access. This would reduce the amount of time it would take to be seen by a doctor, and it would affect the issues of social distance and communication. The urban poor with limited resources balance their healthcare expenses against daily income. Receiving services in that overcrowded and overburdened hospital is difficult, and many residents cannot access the services of DMCH because of the lack of appropriate knowledge regarding the process. Several female respondents from both BRP and Korail mentioned their miserable journey through pregnancy, as

136  The Right to the Services there was no government hospital near their neighborhood. In most cases, husbands and adults pressured them to deliver the baby at home after considering transportation, costs, the admission process, and distance. Ayesha shared her experience, My husband is a rickshaw puller. At midnight I developed labor pains and my husband took me to DMCH on his rickshaw. But it was far from our settlement. One of our neighbors was holding me on the rickshaw. I could not bear the pain. Just a few yards before reaching DMCH, my water broke and my first baby girl was born on the side of the road. It is our life! After that my husband took me to the hospital and the ward nurse said, as the baby is already born, they do not need to admit me. Though many of them manage to get to the hospital, the medicine they are prescribed can be expensive and potentially more than they can afford. Some respondents prefer to spend the extra money for a private doctor to avoid the hassle of government hospitals. They consider time to be money, as many of them depend on daily income. Therefore, many were unable to afford extra time to see a doctor during work. However, there is a culture of offering bakshish (a small bribe in advance of service) in public hospitals for everything from a doctor’s appointment to getting a bed in a ward. Approximately 6% of respondents said that they had to bribe the staff or pay brokers to get services in public hospitals. Shahidul said, This Dhaka Medical hospital is a very big and complex one for me. I don’t even understand which building or floor to go to for a specific disease, nor do I understand the admissions formalities. The hospital ward boys also undermine us as we are poor. They provide better service to people who offer them bribes. I didn’t even have money to buy medicine, so how could I afford to offer a bribe? Many respondents in both neighborhoods answered that their image of poor neighborhood residents, financial barriers, lack of knowledge, and socio-economic discrimination are all hurdles that prevent them from getting public health services. Quality of service is also an indicator of inclusivity. Patients’ class identity, such as elite or poor, plays an important role in determining access to health services. Many respondents talked about health-care providers’ lack of responsiveness and their unwillingness to provide the best services. They also claimed that several doctors refused to discuss their illnesses in further detail because of lack of time. This is perhaps not surprising given that there are only 3.05 doctors and 1.07 nurses per 10,000 people in Bangladesh (MOHFW 2011). A doctor in a government hospital often has to see 50 or more patients a day, which makes it difficult to get quality treatment. Respondents cited several reasons behind the poor quality of service in the public health-care system, including lack of drugs and commodities, discrimination against the poor, deficiencies in logistics, doctors, and staff, poor supervision, lack of trained providers, and informal payments. Both the Health Ministry, a central government agency, and the DNCC, under the local government, are engaged with providing UPHC service. However, the

The Right to the Services  137 lack of coordination between the two agencies regarding service provision and referral systems poses challenges for the urban poor to get quality and accessible health care. A significant number of respondents experienced confusion and anxiety because they thought they did not possess enough knowledge to make the best use of the hospital. The respondents reported that there were also no referral systems from UPHC Centers to public secondary or tertiary health facilities. Therefore, many of the respondents preferred to use private services. Private Medical Services

The number of privately run facilities has increased in response to growing frustration with public health institutions (Mannan 2013; Siddiqui and Khandaker 2007). The lack of adequate public health care motivated them to seek care from the private sector. The private health sector includes clinics, private hospitals, individual doctor’s practices, and pharmacies. Before going to a government hospital or private clinic, they often went to a pharmacy. Approximately 43% of respondents said when they understood that the problems were not solved by the pharmacy-provided medication, they began to consider hospitals as an alternative. In both areas, some said they were obliged to go to a private clinic due to the lack of adequate beds in public hospitals, even though they had seen a doctor at DMCH. Respondents also said that even if a government hospital doctor told them to have diagnostic tests, they would often get them at a private hospital or clinic to save time. To reduce the hassle of long trips, some used nearby clinics. Private hospitals are more directly accessible than public hospitals because they provide services in exchange for fees. Many pathological tests are not available in public hospitals because of the lack of adequate logistic support and technicians. The high cost of formal private sector care results in high out-of-pocket expenditures. Some respondents had spent money for what they considered unnecessary diagnostic tests and cesarean sections. The notion that private hospitals conduct business to make money was a commonly held belief among respondents. Some respondents said that they were forced to borrow from NGOs or other sources to pay medical bills; some later had to sell assets to pay off these debts. For example, Razia said she received a bill of 100,000 taka (US$936) a few days after her husband was admitted to a private hospital. To pay, they had to sell all of their belongings and borrow money. As private services are often costly, respondents often used pharmacy as the first point of care; 20% of respondents use clinic-based consultations. There is no pharmacy in BRP; therefore, they buy medicine from pharmacies suggested by the shopkeepers in the nearest bazaar. Sometimes they ask the shopkeeper (most pharmacy staff did not possess medical or pharmacy degrees, but they did have experience in the pharmacy business) for a suggestion of which medicine to purchase; sometimes, they knew which medicine to buy without asking. There are several pharmacies in Korail. People would come to them complaining of fever, cough, diarrhea, back and neck pain. Some are simply self-treating by buying drugs. Many respondents reported that they never went to see a doctor but just bought over-the-counter medicine from a pharmacy. Some of them spoke to the pharmacist to get more effective medicine if a cough persisted for more than

138  The Right to the Services three to four days. If that counsel did not prove effective, then some would go to public hospitals or traditional healers. Kibria, the owner of a Korail pharmacy, said: Many patients come to my pharmacy in a day. First, I listen to their problem, then prescribe them medication according to their symptoms. If they feel good, that is perfect. But if the problems persist and the medication does not work, moreover, if they lose weight, or any other symptoms crop up, I refer them to a diagnostic center or government hospital. If an NGO offers services for this disease, I refer them there. Then if the NGO health workers cannot serve them with their available medical supplies and equipment, they are referred to a hospital. It depends on the patients’ financial condition whether they would be able to go to a private clinic for diagnosis and treatment. As a part of participant observation, I saw more than 15 clients coming to buy medicine without a prescription within two hours. Kibria’s pharmacy sold three types of medicine: allopathic on the first shelf, ayurvedic on the second, and homeopathic medicine on the third. When I asked why he kept all these medicines, he said it was due to the clients’ demand. Many clients requested ayurvedic or homeopathic medicines. Some of the respondents said that although they could access private hospital, did not receive the quality treatment they expected for the amount paid. The hospital staff considered them poor and displayed a lack of empathy toward them. Traditional Healers

Approximately 57% of respondents used multiple health services simultaneously due to lack of accessibility, consideration of affordability, or loss of confidence in the quality of service. Traditional healing practice is an essential and integral part of the health-care system in Bangladesh. It served approximately 80% of all sick or ailing people (Haque et al. 2018). If a pharmacy prescription were ineffective, respondents would either go to a hospital or a traditional healer for further treatment. Cultural beliefs and traditions, the inaccessibility of public health service and the high cost of private clinics led people to consult with informal health service providers. People procured health care from heterogeneous healers using Kabiraj, Ayurvedic, and homeopathic traditions. The Kabiraj made medicines based on multiple medicinal plants, where they used both indigenous knowledge and modern laboratory facilities to cure various diseases. In Ayurvedic medicine, the physician and the patient believe that health and well-being depend on a balance between mind, body, and soul. Therefore, an Ayurvedic physician promotes guidelines for good health, although treatments may be geared toward specific health problems. Homeopathic physicians believe that the body can cure itself, but they treat both acute and chronic conditions to enhance this ability. Homeopathic medicines are mainly made from small amounts of natural substances like plants and minerals. Although these traditional healers have different methods, in Korail, all of these traditional practitioners were referred to as a single identity “Kabiraj.” Kabirajs do

The Right to the Services  139 not require any formal registration, in contrast to formal doctors or medical staff; however, Ayurvedic and homeopathic practitioners require government registration. Although I did not know any traditional healers who lived in BRP, I saw some in the nearby bazaar; they were used by BRP residents. Most respondents cited easy access and low payment as important criteria for their use of traditional health care. Unlike the government hospital, private formal clinical service, or NGO health care, respondents do not need to be registered formally as a patient. The next section discusses NGO health services. NGO Health Services

In Korail, a few NGOs work on health issues. There are also some collaborative programs between the government and NGOs through donor-funded projects. Since Bangladesh is committed to achieving universal health coverage by 2032, the government has started to work with NGOs to provide services such as the UPHC project and vaccination programs, which I discussed above. Because numerous NGOs deliver services door-to-door, donor agencies are interested in working with them. Moreover, the lack of manpower and resources makes it difficult for state agencies to reach people. NGOs are also interested in providing health care because some already carry out health awareness programs. Although the government is working with NGOs on community health projects in Korail, this is not possible in BRP, for reasons already noted. According to an NGO official, NGOs work in public health as a complement to the public service network. They are not a parallel service provision system. Though NGOs have worked more in rural areas, many are now investing in informal urban neighborhoods, because they are not a government priority. We mainly provide preventive and basic care. Two issues are important right now in Korail. One is to increase awareness about health issues for which there is effective prevention. The other one is to support government vaccination campaigns. Some maternity services are provided by Manoshi, Marie Stopes, Bangladesh Rural Advancement Committee (BRAC) Maternity Center, and Smiling Sun. To measure the availability, affordability, and quality of NGO health services, I have chosen the Manoshi project as a case study. This was run by BRAC in Korail. The Manoshi Project The Manoshi (Maa, Nobojatok O Shishu, or Mother, Newborn, and Children) project was a community-based service for maternal, neonatal, and child health services. Since 2007, BRAC implemented this project in poor urban neighborhoods. The local government is not directly involved except for providing permission. Korail was one of the earliest sites, and the program ran from January to ­September in 2007 in several phases. At one point, this program in Korail was ended. The main objectives of this project were to decrease the morbidity and

140  The Right to the Services mortality of mothers, newborns, and children through a community program of essential health services. BRAC recruited female Community Health Workers (CHW, Sasthya Sebika) from the community. They had at least some reading and writing skills. These CHWs were the backbone of this project. They conducted home visits and interacted with the Korail child delivery center. During home visits, they disseminated health knowledge, collected information on family planning and vaccination status, and discussed other issues such as pregnancy, newborns, and deaths. They also convinced mothers to use delivery service centers, supported and trained birth attendants for safe and clean delivery and offered essential newborn care. In the case of complications, they accompanied mothers to referral hospitals. Many Korail respondents informed that they could afford this service. They said it helped them, as it was costly to go to private clinics. For example, if the mother goes to a private hospital, the cost is at least 40,000–50,000 taka ­(US$374–468). Some respondents were also concerned that the CHWs might inspire the women to go to modern clinics or have Cesarean sections, which would be more expensive. Men always preferred a home delivery done by midwives as it reduced their expenses. After childbirth, if a midwife receives 500 taka (US$4.68) and a new cloth, it is considered enough. Many older women in Korail help during child delivery without the expecting remuneration. They considered this an act of moral responsibility. Many respondents, especially men, said that, “NGOs come with new ideas as if we cannot move forward without these modern systems.” Referring to their mothers’ or grandmothers’ delivery histories, they claimed that home-based delivery was the best. Many of the male respondents emphasized the economic constraints. They argued that if NGOs would help in free delivery, they would not have any problem. Some male respondents believe that NGO would not give anything for free; however, they would teach expensive methods to their wives, although the hospital cost is too high for many of them. During the discussion with male respondents, Tajul was saying, They just provided an awareness program, not a health service free of cost. Whenever health workers left my home, my wife started to tell me what I should buy for her. One day I saw that my wife already bought vitamins from the NGO. After her departure, I asked her to rethink my source of money and she became angry. She was fasting the whole day and was very angry with me. Then I went to the NGO health workers and told them not to visit my home anymore. My wife, my baby, and I will understand what I had to do. They did not have to teach me. Moreover, many of the respondents cannot afford the time because most NGOs’ health-care centers are open between three to five days a week and are closed by 5 p.m. Most Korail residents are involved in the informal sector and return home from work after 9 p.m. NGO health services remained unreachable to some respondents.

The Right to the Services  141 CHWs, from the NGO, received incentives of 50 taka (US$0.468) per ­identified pregnancy and 150 taka (US$1.40) per delivery for pregnant women they accompanied to the Manoshi delivery center. Moreover, they could make a little money by reselling basic health commodities that they bought from NGO, such as sanitary napkins, contraceptives, condoms, iodized salt, and basic medicines (vitamins, pain killers, antacids, iron, folic acid, and antihistamines). After buying these products from the NGO, they could then sell them to pregnant mothers for a little profit. NGO had three motives: first, introducing modern products to poor women; second, to bring to poor women aspects of modern medical science; and third, avoiding the direct payment of salaries to CHWs. This strategy encourages CHWs to sell vitamins and other goods directly to pregnant women. Regarding the quality of service, several respondents said they benefited from this service, and the quality was good, although some disagreed. Some respondents especially emphasized Manoshi’s referral system that allowed a pregnant mother to connect with quality health facilities if she faced complications. Another positive aspect of Manoshi was that there were several qualified doctors in this project with whom the respondents could easily talk and share their experiences about motherhood. Some assistants to the doctors were also helpful and supportive; they shared patient problems. They also appreciated the CHWs who visited their homes and provided suggestions before and after pregnancy. Though many respondents thought that this referral system was positive, some said it also had a negative side. They believed that the referral system limited their choices to go elsewhere. If there was no doctor available in that specific hospital, or if there were not enough beds, they had to wait. Moreover, the respondents reported that the NGOs stopped their services anytime due to lack of funds. Begum’s younger child was delivered by the Manoshi project. She said that in the beginning, the quality of service was state-of-the-art, but after a few years, it was closed. According to her, Suddenly, I had seen many women going to the center in vain because it was already closed. I heard that the funding for Manoshi had expired, which is why the program was terminated. When their money runs out, NGOs pack up. How do we benefit from such projects? They kick up a ruckus when they visit our homes and warn us of the perils that lay ahead if we don’t use their services. Aren’t there pregnant women today that are risking their lives? What is the gain of all these awareness campaigns if the pregnant women in peril today don’t have their services available? What is project’s word worth? Four interviewees received support directly or indirectly from the Manoshi’s CHWs. The CHWs visited them before and after delivery and offered them the possibility to buy vitamins. While the women cordially received the Manoshi’s CHWs, the men in their houses felt that the visits invaded the privacy of their homes. Women felt comfortable since they wanted to learn about pregnancy, breastfeeding, vitamins, vaccination, and other health issues. Their husbands, however, wanted to keep their wives more invisible to the public. Shefali, who had

142  The Right to the Services delivered her baby at Korail and viewed the Manoshi project positively, was a hospital worker. Both she and Khadija worked for the Manoshi project as health workers. Later, this experience helped Khadija get employed at the hospital where she currently works. Both Shefali and Khadija received direct benefits by working with the project. Like them, many CHWs got work in private hospitals and clinics when the Manoshi project was no longer in their neighborhood. Many female respondents were disappointed about the short length of the project and expressed their concern. Almost 98% of the respondents reported that many NGO services were too goal-oriented and short-term and did not establish permanent health structures. A pregnant woman named Farida, who was listening to our discussion with other female respondents, added, My mother and grandmother before her had delivered at home. The Manoshi project taught us that delivering at home is extremely hazardous as it puts the lives of both the mother and the child in jeopardy. Therefore, safe maternity entails delivering at a Manoshi delivery center or with the help of a trained birth attendant at a hospital. I completely agree with Aunt Begum that since they had campaigned so loudly and confidently for safe maternity, then where are they now during my pregnancy? They had assisted me when I delivered my firstborn, but I don’t see them doing anything anymore because they ran out of funding. Have the perils of maternity evaporated along with their funding? No matter how many services the NGOs provide, they never stay long enough to connect with us at a personal level. Some 37% of the BRP respondents said that the hospital was a safe place for pregnant mothers to deliver. They believed that if there were an emergency during childbirth, the doctor could take immediate action. However, if a woman’s condition worsens during home delivery, it would be challenging to deal with it in a timely fashion, due to transportation problems, the hospital admission bureaucracy, availability of doctors, etc. Most respondents said that delivery in their own homes was better if there were no severe problems with the pregnancy. They used to believe their home was the most private and comfortable space for a mother; however, nowadays, some of them prefer the hospital. Some respondents said that if there were pregnancy complications, they would like to be admitted to the hospital. They described some of the incidents where the patient had to be transferred to the hospital after identifying potential complications during home delivery. In Korail, women were in a quandary: although they have been offered a safe and modern alternative to traditional birthing techniques, without the health-care workers present to instruct them, they struggled to use this hospital delivery system. Some respondents reported they had to depend on health workers for services and systematic procedures such as buying vitamins, regular checkups, and getting hospital referrals. The absence of public health care ensures that residents are forced to turn to private providers. However, many people are relatively poor and cannot afford these private services. Begum and Sen (2005) also recognize that many low-income families typically curtail their monthly expenditures or take loans to pay for private health care or hospitalization.

The Right to the Services  143 Korail residents have more access to diverse health care providers than BRP inhabitants. For example, Korail is home to many traditional healers who assist Korail inhabitants in obtaining alternative treatment. Within Korail, various pharmacies assist inhabitants in obtaining first aid and medications; BRP residents do not have a pharmacy in the compound. Some Korail respondents also reported that during times of crisis, NGOs assisted them. As a result, Korail people have more possibilities for obtaining health-care services than BRP residents. However, besides new concepts of health care, such as vitamins, vaccinations, and modern hospitalization, people also need education and jobs so that the community can acquire the qualifications and capacity to enhance their inclusion. I discuss inclusion in education and employment in the following sections, respectively. Access to Education Without access to education, it is challenging for a community to achieve inclusion. Even though the government provides free education, stipends, and schools close to informal neighborhoods, it is difficult for poor parents to send their children to school because of their economic circumstances, frequency of migration, housing instability, etc. The Constitution of Bangladesh declares that all children will receive free and compulsory education (Article 17). The government has developed several national policies to promote inclusive education for all children. These policies emphasize the inclusion of girls, children with special needs, children from ethnic communities, and other disadvantaged children, such as street children, in the educational system. Bangladesh, moreover, conforms to the Education for All objective of the SDGs. There are government-provided scholarships, such as the Primary Education Stipend Program introduced in 2002, to provide benefits such as the elimination of school fees, stipends, and free textbooks. In many informal neighborhoods of Dhaka, children’s access to education was limited by factors such as poverty, gender roles, migration, nutritional deficiencies, and reliance on child labor (Cameron 2010). Many residents enrolled their children but were unable to continue education because of poverty. Table 5.1  The Levels of Education of Respondents’ Children Education Level

Not in school Primary level (grade 1–5) Secondary level (grade 6–10) Adult children (grade 11–12 & above) Madrasa at primary level Madrasa at secondary level NGOs school Source: Fieldwork

Number of Children BRP

Korail

2 21 26 4 3 2 0

46 56 31 3 26 7 42

144  The Right to the Services The education system of Bangladesh works as follows: primary level (grades 1–5), junior level (grades 6–8), secondary level (grades 9–10), higher secondary level (grades 11–12), and tertiary (undergraduate and above). The government of Bangladesh provides free compulsory education with a stipend up to grade 8, with entry to grade 1 beginning at six years old. Recently, the Prime Minister’s Education Assistance Trust has started to provide scholarships, admission assistance, and medical grants to poor and meritorious students at secondary, higher secondary, and tertiary levels (GOB 2020). However, many parents do not know the admission process and scholarship programs due to their recent migration ­(Cameron 2010). Moreover, due to the lack of specific guidelines, the target groups fail to receive the stipend. Around 46% of stipend resources go to non-poor children (AlSamarrai 2009). Among the respondents themselves, 43% of the Korail respondents never attended school, although only 6% of the BRP respondents had no schooling. I collected data based on the current state of education of 58 children in BRP and 211 children in Korail. Among them, about 78% of BRP children and 44% of Korail children were born and raised in Dhaka. The rest of them migrated from different villages with their parents. Table 5.1 shows the extent to which BRP and Korail respondents have access to education for their children. In this discussion, to understand the levels of inclusion of children in the two neighborhoods, I have divided three levels of education: primary level (grades 1–5) that corresponds to primary above, secondary level (grades 6–10) that indicates to junior (grades 6–8) and secondary (grades 9–10), and adult education that indicates to higher ­secondary (grades 11–12) and university level. Primary Level Children

Residents of both neighborhoods said that they desire for their children to attend school. Some parents, however, could not afford to send children to school. Parents’ involvement can encourage children in diverse ways, such as contacting teachers and others at the school; assisting children with homework and class projects; participating in school events, etc. This kind of parental involvement was difficult for some respondents, as they were forced to send their children to work to pay for three meals a day. There was a primary school and a madrasa within the BRP. There also was a private kindergarten in BRP, later developed into a primary school. The BRP authority did not construct anything except the mosque. This school is sustained solely on the students’ tuition fees. According to Rahela, This school runs on student fees, but all parents cannot afford to send their children here; we cannot. The monthly tuition fees and other expenses are around 1000 taka ($9.36), which is tough for parents like us. There is no government school within the BRP complex though we heard that all services would be provided.

The Right to the Services  145 Respondents said that although the buildings are still being constructed, there is no plan for a school or hospital in BRP. During Covid-19, the school faced financial challenges, as students were unable to pay their fees. The number of students has decreased by almost half since the pandemic began. In Korail, there are several types of schools, such as NGO-based preschool and kindergarten, private schools for-profit, and madrasas. BRAC education program runs 31 schools in Korail, known as BRAC Schools. In fact, the neighborhood has more than 50 organizations for children’s education at the preschool and primary school level run by NGOs, madrasas, and orphanages. There are 20 nongovernmental primary schools and nine madrasas in Korail. Approximately 78% of Korail respondents said that at least one of their children attended primary school. Though there was no NGO-based school in BRP, many children in Korail were receiving preliminary education in NGO schools. A few NGOs operated schools for “working children,” to cater to their needs. Many children in Korail attending NGO schools primarily came from significantly poorer groups. Some NGO schools provided uniforms, textbooks, and other educational needs free of cost. The lack of affordability means that many parents may not send their children to primary school. Korail respondents who struggle for housing, food, and water, and utilities did not always consider schooling a priority. Parents also need to fulfill certain requirements to attend public primary schools. It can be difficult to go through the admission process in a school in an unfamiliar place; parents need to collect and submit birth certificates. The birth certificate may not have been brought from the village, and it can be difficult to get a replacement. Subsequently, the parent needs to procure a residential paper from the ward commissioner’s office; often one must pay a bribe or move through local leaders. Many poor parents do not feel they can afford education for their children. Sometimes, after completing all the requirements and enrolling in the school, it was difficult to continue because of deplorable economic situations. For example, Tahera, a single mother with three children, said that if her son had gone to school, she would not have been able to bear her family expenses, including house rent. Therefore, although she sent her son to primary school a few years ago, she was later forced to send him to work in a store. Despite compulsory education for all and government-provided scholarships, many primary school age children in Korail were not attending school due to circumstances such as lack of money, health problems and poor nutrition, eviction threats, and constant moving. Among the respondents’ children, nine primary school age children had to work as a result of poverty. Twelve primary level age children were admitted to school; however, their parents could not afford to monitor their attendance, and they dropped out. One of the parents informed me that they went to work in the morning and returned home in the middle of the night. As a result, it was impossible to see if the child was attending school. Many poor parents admitted their children to NGO schools to avoid the complications of the formal admission system to public schools. Moreover, some NGO schools allocated time separately for working children. For example, the

146  The Right to the Services ROSC (Reaching Out-of-School Children) project established the “Anondo School” (School of Joy) with an accelerated curriculum during flexible hours, through the Ministry of Primary and Mass Education, co-funded by the World Bank. Their primary focus was to integrate working children into the mainstream education system so that after this school, they could join a mainstream school. Some NGO schools provide qualitative education; however, some parents were not satisfied with their availability there. Moreover, the children of influential house owners or leaders were more likely to be in NGO schools with good facilities, although they were targeted at the children of poor families. Respondents said that other children went to these schools, when their parents could get strong recommendation from influential leaders. However, among the respondents, those who sent their children to these schools were satisfied with the education system and other facilities. For example, Usman, a shop owner in Korail, said proudly that his daughter could communicate with foreigners in English when they visited Korail. Many private kindergartens and primary schools have a good education but are expensive and not affordable for many parents. Therefore, some parents are dissatisfied with these schools because of the high tuition fees. Approximately 12% of the Korail children were attending an Arabic institution at the primary level, such as a muqtab or a madrasa. In contrast, 5% of the BRP children went to muqtabs and madrasas inside and outside BRP. Most of the parents of these children were satisfied with the madrasa education system. When I asked about the quality of these madrasas, most of them answered that they had no idea about the quality and they never thought about that. However, they were happy to think that their children were being educated in religion, and many of them were free of cost. Secondary Level Children

Although BRP did not have government secondary level schools, there some several schools close by. For example, Bhashantek Government High School and Dhamalkot Adarsha High School are close to BRP. According to the original plan for BRP, there was supposed to be a government high school; however, I saw no evidence of one. The majority of the children from BRP, therefore, can go to these schools. In contrast, in Korail, there are two non-governmental secondary level schools. There are also government schools in adjacent neighborhoods, for example, the T&T colony area, Badda, Bonani, and Mohakhali, and many students from the Korail neighborhood attend them. There were some students from both Korail and BRP in higher secondary education. Many Korail respondents, especially those who were poor tenants, could not even afford to bring their children to the city. One of the main reasons to migrate is for work, and there is no one to look after children if both husband and wife have jobs. They often leave the older children with their parents in the village due to economic affordability, safety, and the urban environment. No BRP child was left in the village home. A significant number of primary students were forced to drop out at the secondary level. Numerous children in Korail worked instead

The Right to the Services  147 of attending school, due to poverty. For example, Dalim was 12 years old and worked in a motor garage, getting a monthly salary. His mother said that Dalim’s father had remarried and it was difficult for her to pay family expenses. Dalim completed his primary school and got a chance to be admitted to a junior secondary school; however, he then dropped out of school to help his mother. Dalim wanted his younger two siblings to go to school and continue their studies. Not all children in a family necessarily go to school. For example, Shefali said that her elder daughter had to leave school six months after enrollment so that she could look after her younger siblings. Her other two daughters were going to NGO school. Shefali said, As my husband left us and I am the only earning member of my family, I need to work as much as I can. Before getting a hospital job, I used to work as domestic worker for three houses in a day. As a mother, I could not bear to see my children’s hungry faces. I could skip meals for myself, but my children cannot. For them, I had to work hard. My elder daughter began to go to school when my husband was with me. But later when he left us, I had to work. But I had two more kids in my house; who would take care of them? My elder daughter left school and she took care of them when I was at work. Like Dalim’s mother or Shefali, some respondents said that their poverty deprived their children of an education. Some respondents could not afford to send their children to secondary school. A secondary student has to pay for private coaching, tuition fees, exam fees, and other expenses to do well; this is not possible for many poor families. For example, after his son finished primary school, Selim wondered how he would be able to afford the next level of education. He has three more children, and he doubts whether he will be able to afford their education as neither he nor his wife have job security. Many parents said that poverty and the uncertainty of their employment were the biggest obstacles to educating their children. The respondents mentioned several other factors besides poverty as hindering their children’s schooling, especially at the secondary level. Sometimes, due to lack of parental supervision, many teenagers were neither working nor in school; I would see some of them hanging out with friends in the Korail bazaars during school hours. Nurunnahar, a domestic worker, recounted how her 16-year-old son mingled with unscrupulous friends and gradually became a drug addict because of the friends’ influence. Many parents considered that sending children to primary school was enough. Moreover, many did not have the knowledge or confidence to send their children further into secondary schools. Many respondents reported that having NGO schools for pre-school and primary level children encouraged them to enroll their children. Sometimes NGO workers go door to door and ask parents to send the children to school, but this does not happen at the secondary level. As a result, there is a kind of hesitation, fear, and shyness in parents’ minds about sending children to secondary school. Many parents reported that they did not even know when they should enroll their children. I also found when visiting my respondents’ houses that some children quit school when they fell ill. When I

148  The Right to the Services asked schoolteacher Faijul, the main reasons why many children never enrolled in school, he answered, A few years ago, a survey we did for an NGO showed that 76% of parents were not able to send the children to school as they do not have any permanent work. In many cases, either both or one parent might be addicted to drugs or involved with violence. Due to migration from one settlement to another and high mobility in the middle of the year, many children cannot enroll in school. Many children are also excluded from education due to ill health or a disability. Many children have to work in factories as they are the key breadwinners of their families. Moreover, gender is sometimes a barrier to girls’ education, especially in poorer areas. The experience of many teenage girls in both neighborhoods is similar; often they are bullied on their way to and from school. Some parents informed me that their secondary school age daughters had experienced harassment, including obscene gestures, different types of bullying, etc. A few respondents said that their children were able to transfer to government high schools after primary, but fire or eviction forced them to quit as their parents lost all belongings. According to Saiful, a van driver and a Korail tenant, To get admission into a government school from Korail is not easy. But when a few children were able to go to a government high school or college, a mass eviction or a devastating fire would destroy our dreams. I lost everything in a recent fire. I did not know how I would be able to send my children to school again. These horrific fires devastated us and flung us away from our dream. The reality is that we are helpless poor, and our children have no right to become doctors, engineers, or professors. Lucky had the same tone. A grade 10 student, she was going to sit for her Secondary School Certificate (SSC) examination, but three weeks before, all her books and household belongings were burnt in a fire. Lucky said that the fire was the result of sabotage. She showed me that everything they had has been razed to the ground. She said, “You know what, I am pretty sure that the fire was the result of sabotage. There was no point in setting fire to our belongings. We were poor before, but now we have become the poorest!” Many students like Lucky were board examinees that year. That fire also burned their dreams to take the public examination under the ministry of education. Therefore, fire is another obstacle to the education of children in Korail, which BRP children do not have to face. Some respondents were more concerned about the environment and quality of education in public secondary schools, as they noticed that some of their children had lost interest in going to secondary school. Many of the respondents of teenage children at the secondary level said that their children heard negative comments from their classmates about living in poor neighborhoods. Korail respondents also said that teachers and students sometimes scolded children, saying they “smell of

The Right to the Services  149 slums.” This could give children an inferiority complex. Many teenagers gradually dropped out of school due to bullying. BRP children also face this type of bullying because of their housing identity, known as the “housing of the poor.” Adult Education

Although there is no college or university in the two neighborhoods, some are close. The majority of the children from BRP, therefore, can go to these colleges. Adult children with whom I talked in both neighborhoods said that it was challenging for them to pay for university level education. They reported that since they could not continue college education, they had entered the labor market. Comparing the two neighborhoods, the education rate of the children in both has increased compared to their parents. For example, among the respondents, 6% of the BRP respondents did not have schooling, whereas 43% of the Korail respondents never attended school. Children’s education is more available than that of parents due to government stipends, compulsory education policy, expansion of madrasa education, and an increase in the number of NGO schools. It had become somewhat easier for parents to afford education for their children; however, students of poor areas still experience obstacles to education, such as child labor, eviction, child marriage, and lack of social safety nets. Several Bhashantek applicants for flats in BRP received them because of better educational qualifications. For example, those who could read and write understood the residential application process better. They knew that they had to deposit money in the bank on the correct date and appropriately communicated with the company. Brokers could not deceive them and the staff of NSPDL could not take advantage of this. As a result, they got flats, though some of them were forced to sell due to later financial crises. In Korail, 8% of the respondents had access to a secondary level education, though only two respondents claimed they completed this level of study. In BRP, 39% of the respondents had completed secondary school, whereas 11% of the respondents also completed adult education from colleges and madrasas. Therefore, it can be said that BRP respondents have more educational inclusion than Korail respondents. The level of education also varied between male and female respondents. Among the respondents from both neighborhoods, male respondents possess a higher rate of education than females. Among BRP respondents, 22% of women had primary level education; two were admitted into secondary but failed to continue due to early marriage. In contrast, among the Korail respondents, 4% of women started studying at the primary level; however, no one could complete it, due to poverty, social pressure, migration, or early marriage. The barricades that used to work against the education of the previous generation are still in place. Although the level of educational inclusion of female respondents in BRP was higher than among the Korail female respondents, 4% of the Korail respondents enrolled in adult literacy programs in NGO schools. A respondent told me that this helped her become the leader of an NGO’s microcredit group; she could sign her name and others’ names as well.

150  The Right to the Services Many respondents said that poverty and the uncertainty of their employment were the biggest obstacles to educating their children. Many Korail respondents could not afford children’s education due to extreme poverty, but no such case was reported in BRP. In Korail, many poorer respondents struggled to eat three meals a day, not the reality of any BRP resident. The proliferation of NGO schools and madrasa education was an effort in Korail to improve education that was absent in BRP. From the interviews, it became clear that parents in both neighborhoods were quite aware of their children’s education. Though all were not able to afford school education, everyone realized that education led to better employment. If their children did not go to school, they would lag in the job market. Respondents in both neighborhoods reported that they spent significant time not working and worrying about the absence of unemployment benefits from the state. Uncertain employment also affected personal, social, and family relationships. Some respondents could not become entrepreneurs due to lack of access to bank loans, although they had the other qualifications. Pintu (27), graduated but could not find a job. He said a large gap exists between academic and technical knowledge, which causes problems for youth searching for employment. The lack of education results in discrimination and exclusion from some parts of the job market, which I will discuss in the next section. Access to Employment The primary reason respondents migrate to Dhaka from the village is that they believe Dhaka offers more job opportunities and provides a pathway to reduce poverty. The ability to find housing and access to health care and children’s education depends largely on the income of the household. Achieving employment is one of the most crucial challenges in achieving inclusion, as the concept of inclusion involves a complex web of multiple components of life such as good housing, better health and longevity, and education. Economic opportunities lift the urban poor out of exclusion and improve their lives. For example, a secure job can reduce urban poverty, promote economic inclusion, and ensure good housing with public services. The urban poor experience obstacles, however, including job loss, low wages, and insufficient income. Many of them are involved in informal businesses or labor markets that are saturated, competitive, insecure, low waged, and often hazardous. In this section, I discuss several aspects of employment to understand if the respondents are included, such as the nature of jobs people engage in and how they involve themselves in the informal economy in the absence of formal jobs. Are they satisfied with their income? What type of incomes do they earn? How does this vary between BRP and Korail? Besides describing the respondents’ occupations, I also analyzed job availability, stability of income, social network, and satisfaction. To understand the inclusion of respondents in the city economy, I discuss their income at the end of the employment discussion. Types of Employment of the Respondents

In this section, employment is classified into two sectors: employed and selfemployed. When an individual works for a formal office or company in exchange

The Right to the Services  151 for remuneration, I considered him or her an employed person. On the other hand, I considered as self-employed people who work for themselves instead of working for an employer. In analyzing data, I choose to classify respondents into two types: low-paid employees in formal offices, such as in the government and private offices, garments, clinics, shopping malls, and self-employed, such as domestic workers, rickshaw pullers, or microenterprise owners. Many respondents were employed and self-employed simultaneously; therefore, it was difficult to divide their employment status between these two types. For example, many respondents would work as cleaners/salesmen/receptionists in offices or shopping malls during the day, and in the evening, they would sell homemade products in the bazaars (Figure 5.1). Many had teashops in the bazaars (Figure 5.2), and vans for selling food and other products. In those cases, some of them considered themselves both employed and self-employed. Table 5.2 displays the occupations in which the respondents were engaged during fieldwork. The garment sector was the most reported source of employment in Korail, especially for the women, whereas services in different private agencies were more available to BRP respondents. This may be because the many factories are situated in the Tejgaon area, an industrial area of Dhaka, adjacent to Korail. BRP is in Mirpur, where there is an abundance of shopping malls, clinics, hospitals, and offices. The majority of the respondents of both neighborhoods preferred jobs close to where they live to reduce transport costs. Although those who work in garments and private offices consider themselves to be formally employed, many of them are employed through oral contracts, not written ones; the salary process Table 5.2  Types of Employment of the Respondents Types of Occupation

BRP

Gender

F

M

%

F

M

%

Garment worker Schoolteacher Private service (cleaners, hospital assistants, shop keepers, messenger, staff at private offices) Domestic helper/ driver/ security guard Petty traders (vegetable, handicrafts) Business (landlord, informal line business, rickshaw and van for rent) Van driver Tea stall owners Uber driver Rikshaw puller Housewife Day/construction laborer Street food seller (bread, cake, loaf, snack items) Total

2 0 2

1 0 3

16.67 0 27.78

9 0 7

2 1 4

15.27 1.39 15.27

0 1 0

0 1 1

0 11.11 5.56

8 4 0

5 5 7

18.05 12.5 9.72

0 1 0 0 1 0 2

0 1 2 0 0 0 0

0 11.11 11.11 0 5.56 0 11.11

0 3 0 0 1 2 2

2 2 1 2 0 2 3

2.78 6.94 1.39 2.78 1.39 5.55 6.94

9

9

100

36

36

Source: Fieldwork

Korail

100

152  The Right to the Services

Figure 5.1  Women Run Businesses in Korail Source: Fieldwork

is also informal. For example, Diba works in a shopping mall as a saleswoman, but both her job and salary are informal, not documented. Significantly, 44.45% of BRP respondents and 31.93% of Korail respondents were employees. On the other hand, approximately 55.56% of BRP respondents and 68.04% of Korail respondents were self-employed. I considered housewives to be self-employed because they were often involved in income-generation activities; however, they were not involved in any specific jobs during my fieldwork. A comparative analysis shows that while BRP is ahead in terms of overall employment, there are more selfemployed people in Korail. Though influential flat owners in BRP possessed multiple flats, they did not acknowledge they possessed more than a single flat. Some influential house owners in Korail considered house ownership a profession, as it was a source of income. Their main earnings come from rents, whereas others also pursue informal service businesses. Some engage with politics, and others are shop or restaurant owners in the Korail bazaars. Among the influential respondents, others possess rickshaws or a van garage. They rented those vehicles daily. Although three BRP respondents were involved in microenterprises, one said that she was not the critical bread earner of her family. In winter, she made homemade cakes and sold them in BRP’s open space. Petty traders are those who sell products with low capital investment. In Korail, petty traders (12.5%) primarily buy products from the wholesale market and sell them in Korail, Gulshan, or Banani bazaar. Some sell homemade products such as chotpoti, achar (pickle), cakes, and cookies in front of schools, and shopping malls. Many respondents from the poorer group in Korail are regularly involved in the petty business. Although respondents in both neighborhoods had low-paid employment, most respondents also looked for jobs with better remuneration. In Korail, approximately one in four people said that they engaged in multiple jobs simultaneously, only one in seven in BRP. Respondents engaged also in casual employment in both neighborhoods. As many respondents in Korail were engaged in multiple occupations, it was difficult for someone to identify their primary occupation. For example, Joynal was a rickshaw puller by day and a security guard at night. He was confused as to whether he should consider himself a rickshaw puller or security guard. Several female respondents in Korail worked several jobs simultaneously. For example, Salma worked in a hotel near Korail as a chef’s assistant for three hours a day, and

The Right to the Services  153

Figure 5.2  At Korail Tea Stall Source: Fieldwork

after this, she worked in two houses in Gulshan as a housemaid. Several low-paid employees intended to engage with microenterprises after office hours or a regular job as a second source of income. In many families, children were also involved in the labor market because of poverty, which I discussed above. Many children in Korail worked non-paid workers in establishments, such as the motor garage, tea stalls, hotels, and other shops. Here employers considered that gaining knowledge or a job skill was payment in kind. For example, Siraj’s son worked as an assistant in a motor garage and the owner of the garage offered him two meals a day rather than payment. Many employers believe that children learned how to work from them; therefore, the children’s family should be grateful as they could learn. Although the work undertaken by children is not included in this table, their income is deposited in the family joint account and plays an important role for family income (Figure 5.3). The BRP respondents tended to have more stable jobs than did Korail respondents. For example, during the two years of fieldwork, nine of the Korail respondents were unemployed for several months at different times, whereas no one in the BRP was unemployed. The jobs of BRP respondents are somewhat more formal than those of Korail; Korail respondents are more associated with informal work, such as domestic workers, security guards, and drivers. Many Korail residents had little job stability compared to workers in the formal sector. The absence of job

154  The Right to the Services

Figure 5.3  Child Labor in Korail Source: Fieldwork

stability and security pushes people to engage with multiple jobs to ensure survival if they lost a job. Some 34% of the respondents from both neighborhoods reported that they were satisfied with their present jobs, including those in the informal economy. Respondents attributed satisfaction to the fact that they could afford to send their children, to rent a house, and to pay for food and other expenses. Nevertheless many were not satisfied with their current job. Some reported that their dissatisfaction was due to a lack of job security, the uncertainty of getting a salary at the end of the month, exploitative behavior of the employer, low salary, etc. Many respondents experience various forms of exclusion in the workplace, which prevented access to safe, secure, and healthy working environments. Low-wage labor, overtime work without pay, and poor nutrition made many factory workers vulnerable to health problems. Some unsafe workplaces caused workers to develop disabilities; some reported workplace fatalities. For example, Rozina’s husband, a construction laborer, fell from a two-story building during construction. He broke his leg, and his spinal cord became paralyzed. The developer company paid 10,000 taka (US$94) for medical expenses, which only paid for a few medicines. Rozina said that she had to spend a lot of time to get even this much from the developer. Two garment workers reported that they were injured at work but did not receive any compensation. Instead, they were fired. All but two women (one from each neighborhood) were engaged in either paid employment or microenterprises. Some of their husbands were unemployed, and a few were addicts; the wives were the breadwinners. All these factors make

The Right to the Services  155 the women more responsible toward family. These responsibilities for families ­encouraged them to take even a low paid and irregular job rather than nothing. However, in the labor market, women workers tended to be more concentrated than men workers in low-quality, low-paid, irregular and informal employment. Almost all the female respondents in both neighborhoods reported they were subjected to sexual harassment at the workplace, on the way, or in public transport. They mentioned that if men did not harass them, women would work in more productive sectors. The number of female-headed households in Korail is more than in BRP. ­Halima, for example, said that her spouse remarried and left home. Her family consists of three children, one of whom also works. Two remain at home as they are not of working age. Halima must juggle housework while also being employed as a domestic helper for other households. As a result, she is unable to work regularly due to time restrictions. Several female respondents reported that the additional burdens of domestic work prevented them from engaging in income-generating activities far from home. Female respondents faced limited skills, restricted mobility, limited access to capital and work experiences, discrimination at home and the workplace, limited representation in formal governance structure, and the need to do unpaid domestic work. Yet female participation in the informal economy is high because employers can pay female workers less than men, in most cases, just half the wages of male workers. Even in formal businesses like the garment factories, women are paid half as much as their male counterparts because they do less productive work in a day than men. Korimon, a garment worker said, “I am paid half as much as my male colleague because of the argument that I am a woman and cannot work like him!” Social networks help the urban poor to get jobs. Respondents reported that getting a job was a bit easier for those with good networks. Networks can provide information about where to find a job, how to apply, and whom to contact. Sharifa works in a big restaurant in Gulshan. She said, One of my neighbors who worked in that hotel as a waiter knew that I was looking for a job. Through his acquaintance, I started working in the kitchen of this restaurant. I wash dishes and toiltes two times in a day and earn 2500 Taka ($23) per month. I also searched how they cooperate with their employers to build a social network. By providing extra services, they can build a good relationship, provide some social security, and get financial support. Some social networks are developed among professional peers in Korail. According to Akhi, I do not go to work on Monday evening. So, I take care of Korimon’s children on that day. On the other hand, Korimon does not go to the factory on Thursday, and she takes care of my children on that day. So, we get two days in a week and feel safe for these two days. Korimon has two children and I have one. For the remaining four working days, Korimon’s elder daughter takes care of three children.

156  The Right to the Services Many respondents reported that most of the time, they received jobs through p­ eople from the same area or acquaintances. To get employment, maintaining a social tie is essential. For example, Akhi used to work as a domestic helper in an apartment at Gulshan. She had a friendly relationship with another domestic worker, Sonia, who worked in the same building. One day Sonia informed Akhi about a job at a garment factory. Like Akhi, many reported that due to interpersonal relations and social networks, they could move forward. Akhi became a worker in the formal sector, whereas she used to work as a maid. She considered herself more confident than before due to her job status. Several respondents informed me how the relationships with peers help them find employment. In Korail, there are many social organizations: rural home-based associations, mutual savings groups, sports and reading clubs, cultural and educational groups, and religious groups. Although their aims and objectives are different, their main intention is to bring residents together, make them active and visible, and unlock their collective strength. For example, Korail’s youth clubs actively engaged in socio-economic activities. However, BRP did not have this range of voluntary organizations. Some respondents said that they developed cordial relationships with influential local leaders who stand by them in the days of their unemployment through providing loans or offering short time informal jobs. Respondents of both neighborhoods said that social networks also functioned as job referral networks. Moreover, through social networks, connections are made with NGOs or organizations, which may help people to get jobs or microcredit. Many health workers like Shefali and Khadiza worked in NGOs’ health projects like Manoshi, which gave them the experience to work in other clinics. Many NGOs offer microcredit that can be used to start businesses. Residents from both Korail and BRP can get NGO loans; even though NGOs are not active in BRP, people can get loans from NGOs in neighboring areas. Bank loans can be a tremendous aid to creating an informal business, although some respondents considered it a burden as well. However, many respondents reported that receiving a loan from an NGO helped them to become small entrepreneurs. Many respondents who belong to the poorer group in Korail reported that they did not receive loans from NGOs. Economic Inclusion and Exclusion

The informal economy in both neighborhoods was essential to overall incomes and employment. The average level of income in BRP was higher than in Korail, even though Korail residents had a broader range of income. Some influential house owners have much higher sources of income and other respondents have much lower incomes. Both groups have multiple sources of income. In most cases, if several family members earn money, their income is put into a joint account. For example, during the day, Ambia’s mother-in-law runs the family shop, her husband drives the van, and Ambia works in several homes as maid. After returning home in the evening, Ambia runs the shop while her husband takes a nap, and after 10 p.m., the husband runs the shop until 4 a.m.; then, Ambia’s father-in-law runs the shop.

The Right to the Services  157 Everyone participates in income activities. Sometimes, their children run the shop when the grandparents are taking a bath or having lunch. Rojina, whose husband was paralyzed, worked for four houses as a domestic aid. She did not even get the time to eat lunch. She earned 2,600 taka (US$24.33) per month from the four houses. Her elder daughter cooked for the family. Her elder son, Kawsar, ten years old, picked remnants and edibles from the dustbins to sell to his Mohajon (remnant trader). Sometimes, he received approximately 300 taka (US$2.80) a month; however, sometimes the Mohajon did not pay him. They lived in a jhupri made of plastic. Their house was washed away during a monsoon, and they were forced onto the street, sheltering under a shed or school building. When the monsoon passed, Rojina rebuilt her house in the same place. Regarding child labor, most employers hire children as they can be paid low wages and do not need formal contracts. Many families in Korail depend on the income of children, especially in single-headed households. Shorif, a waste picker, whose job was to carry waste from the local dustbin to the DNCC truck in the main road by using a van, said, I did not inherit this job from my forefathers as a ‘sweeper’ but everybody here, in Korail, calls me by the derogatory term methor (one who cleans feces). I was forced to do this job because I never went to school and I have no other work skills. My mother died when I was five during the birth of my twin sisters. My father was a rickshaw puller who left us back in the village and moved to Dhaka. I heard that he remarried. My maternal grandparents took responsibility for. But a few years later grandmother died, and my maternal uncle threw us out of the house. Now my sisters are in Dhaka, where they work as live-in-domestic servants. I sometimes visit them there. I wish I could earn enough money that we could stay together. But with my limited earning it is difficult. Like Shorif, some respondents lacked the skills to obtain a good job. Joynal, a rickshaw puller, said that sometimes, in their efforts to be included in the urban economy, people faced many obstacles, including financial inability to start their own business or lack of skill, making them more vulnerable. He tried multiple times to start a company but failed each time, forcing him to work as a rickshaw driver. Not only that, influential residents and those who work in the formal economy are inclined to view informal vendors and producers as inferior. When people bypass the formal system and informally start to earn income, they often face barriers that make their lives more miserable. For example, many van drivers and rickshaw pullers in Korail reported that they had to face police harassment. Those respondents who sell street food are often accused of illegally occupying the roadside. They had to pay bribes to the street police regularly to avoid these charges. Rickshaw driver Joynal said that there are many roads in Dhaka where rickshaws are not allowed. When he drove down one of those roads, he was not only accused by the police, but he got his rickshaw broken. Later, Joynal had to spend a lot to repair the broken rickshaw. However, he felt lucky that the police

158  The Right to the Services did not seize it. Often, the police break rickshaws and take them away due to the legal violation. Joynal added that police seized more than 10,000 rickshaws from the poor and dumped them near the police barrack. Adult children and those who have completed college in both neighborhoods did not feel that they got well-remunerated jobs. Many who were unemployed expressed frustration during interviews. They were dissatisfied with the kind of schooling they received, which did not assist them in obtaining a suitable job. Pintu said that if the state provided vocational training free of cost for the unemployed, it might help people find jobs. Around 54% of respondents from BRP thought that NGOs and private sector employers should provide vocational training to reduce youth unemployment. Many respondents reported that unemployment frustrated youth and made them vagabonds. These youth became involved with drugs, joined local gangs, and created associations with goons. They needed money for drugs, which drove them to commit crimes. On the other hand, Bashir, from BRP, said, If the youth received support from the state or NGOs or anywhere, they could be our assets. This generation has the digital world at its hand; they just need capital or a little support that we poor parents cannot provide. During an interview in Korail, Imran, an ordinary house owner’s son, said, Like me, many youth lose their mental harmony since they cannot live normally because they don’t have jobs. I wanted to create a business and applied for a loan from the Youth Development Department, but they did not approve it. Still, they proclaim on their website, banners, and in the media, that no one will be unemployed. I was not able to pay a bribe to get a loan, nor did I have a powerful relative who would recommend me. Both groups of respondents were struggling to gain well-remunerated jobs in Dhaka, although BRP respondents usually have higher incomes than the Korail respondents. There are several Korail respondents, however, who possess a high level of income; Korail residents are both much wealthier and much poorer. On the other hand, some BRP respondents do not have high incomes but manage to pay house rent and service charges by doing multiple jobs simultaneously or borrowing money. Conclusion This chapter has shown how access to good health, education, and employment was difficult for respondents from the two areas. In terms of health care, BRP inhabitants have fewer alternatives than Korail inhabitants. There are two significant reasons for this: first, Korail is closer to the city center than BRP; second, the presence of NGOs in Korail has guaranteed that numerous NGO health services are available there. In addition, Korail is home to many traditional

The Right to the Services  159 healers who assist inhabitants in obtaining alternative treatment. Within Korail, various pharmacies assist inhabitants in obtaining first aid and medications; BRP residents must obtain these from Bhashantek Bazaar. As a result, the inhabitants of Korail have more possibilities for getting health-care services than the residents of BRP. However, in general, public health services for the urban poor are inferior to those in rural regions, where the government has established health complexes. Despite the larger number of schools, including private primary and high schools, NGO schools and madrasas, Korail parents could afford less schooling for their children than BRP parents owing to economic crises, housing instability, need for child labor, eviction threats, and other factors. However, in both BRP and Korail, children’s access to education compared to their parents has increased. Owing to sexual harassment and eve-teasing, female students in these communities find it challenging to obtain a high school education. BRP children also face bullying because of their housing identity, known as the “housing of the poor.” Because of this stigma, teenagers often preferred to hide their home addresses at school or with friends. When it comes to employment opportunities, Korail people have a more comprehensive range of options than BRP inhabitants, although the majority of them offer low pay. Despite the fact that BRP has a greater average income than Korail, Korail residents had a wider range of income. In Korail, influential house owners and local leaders had considerable incomes; others had a middle level of income, and still others, the poorest families, had quite low earnings. The first group is interested in increasing incomes and social statuses in Dhaka. In contrast, many respondents of the second group are interested in sending money home to their families after covering family expenses, such as children’s education. The last group is struggling to manage to pay rent and three meals a day. Residents of both neighborhoods were struggling to gain inclusivity through well-remunerated employment. Although BRP respondents were more included than Korail in terms of housing and utilities, this chapter suggests that both neighborhoods’ residents are similar in accessing these services. In some cases, Korail residents are slightly ahead of BRP inhabitants. For example, Korail residents have more access to diverse health-care providers than BRP inhabitants. Korail respondents reported that during times of crisis, NGOs assisted them. Several respondents received NGO health care during evictions and fires. In 2017, after a fire, BRAC set up a temporary medical camp to provide first aid. Some female respondents in Korail were more favorable about NGO health services than their microfinance programs. Microfinance sometimes helped people to pursue businesses, although, many families found it a burden to pay back loans. As no NGOs were in BRP, the residents had to go to nearby informal neighborhoods to get their services. Arguably, however, due to short-term projects, NGOs do not enhance the inclusivity of poor people much. These project-based services could not ensure people’s inclusion in health care. There is only a minor difference in access to these services, because people who live in BRP remain part of non-elite Dhaka. They face similar problems to Korail

160  The Right to the Services residents in getting access to good health care and education for their children; however, sometimes BRP respondents do have slightly better employment prospects due to their marginally better education. The poorest families of Korail have it worse, although the wealthier Korail residents can have better lives and be more included than the people in BRP. The diverse patterns of political action discussed in the next chapter explain how the neighborhoods have tried to reduce exclusion and ensure inclusion through political action.

6

People’s Power and Politics Cooperation, Compromise, Compliance, and Conflict

I am particularly interested in measuring the inclusivity of poor communities and uncovering the multiple forms of political power they employ. I hypothesize that there are multiple national and local political actors in competition, diverse sociopolitical relations and networks, and heterogeneous political power in Dhaka, which allow the people of poor communities to negotiate or collude with policymakers and other powerful actors. Many researchers who have conducted research on the political participation of poor citizens (Das and Walton 2015; Harriss 2005; Holston 2008; Hutchison 2007) argue that their engagement patterns are diverse in terms of voting rights, levels of engagement, relationships with candidates, choice to politically engage or disengage, and many other factors. Chatterjee (2004) noted that the urban poor often partake in national and local politics by attending political parades, meetings, election campaigns, etc. These political engagements encourage political parties to recognize their citizenship. In this chapter, I unpack the multiple forms of political power and actions the residents of poor neighborhoods employ to gain citizenship. I will also discuss how political actions reflect inclusion and citizenship. By “political” I refer to individual and communal practices based on interest and power. I also use the term “political participation” to refer to the means through which the urban poor use multiple forms of power to build relations with more powerful actors. They also employ diverse actions by themselves or with the support of others to gain inclusion within urban structures. Political participation might be a measure of inclusion in and of itself. I, therefore, posit political action as simultaneously: (1) a measure of inclusion—to understand how people who can act politically and make their voices heard are more included in the urban scene, and (2) a strategy—to understand political action, a tactic that people can use to make themselves more included within the urban space. To measure political inclusivity, here I explain the variety of political behaviors to see how people interact with powerful actors. These could also be a political strategy for achieving citizenship. I discuss how the respondents of both neighborhoods employ various political actions to reduce exclusion. To understand their political action, I first discuss the types of political actors with whom they affiliate and then how they highlight their interactions with authorities through actions. The purpose of this chapter is DOI: 10.4324/9781003414315-7

162  People’s Power and Politics to discuss how people of two different neighborhoods utilized various political actions as a strategy to achieve inclusion in the city. Structurally this chapter has two main sections. The first section introduces the powerful actors who affect people’s lives in the communities, and the second ­section will address how political actions have been employed within and beyond the community. Since the data showed that political actors and activities were more effective in Korail than in BRP, I analyze Korail before BRP. The conclusion will summarize how effective political action can increase inclusion. Political Actors and Organizations The urban poor’s journey toward inclusion in regard to housing, utilities, and services encourages them to seek out more powerful political actors or patrons. A wide range of possible political actors exists within the community. There are also people outside the community with whom people build relationships to achieve inclusion through political activities. These political actors consist of political leaders and elected officials, government officials of DNCC, DWASA, and DESCO, officials of NGOs and donor agencies, leaders of CBOs, influential house owners, local leaders, mastaans, home associations, community clubs, wealthier neighbors, and employers. Respondents have built connections with all of them at various times. Many of the political actors outside of the neighborhoods are related to residents for political or business objectives. Many political actors, such as local leaders, community-based organizations, and house owners live in their communities. Some actors from outside the community, such as the police, can be found in both places. Though they may reside inside the neighborhoods, respondents consider them to be external actors. These relationships may be solid, long-term, and all-encompassing, but they may also be fragile. For example, one might have a strong relationship with a landlord; if someone moves away, this relationship is over. The majority of political actors may only be influential in limited ways. For example, the NSPDL chief helped Nazma qualify to buy a flat but did not help her collect the money she needed to purchase it. A local leader offered a job to Shila but did not take action against the mugger who harassed her on her way home from work. To get formal water, the Korail house owners got assistance from multiple political actors, including DWASA, a local NGO, a donor agency, and local political leaders, such as the mayor and ward commissioner. This section looks first at the political organization and political actors in Korail. It then addresses political organization and actors in BRP. Finally, it discusses some other important political actors. Political Organizations, Leadership, and Political Actors in Korail

At present, local leadership in Korail is based on three neighborhood Committees: the Korail Development Committee, Korail Awami League Committee, and the Korail Community-Policing committee. The majority of local leaders and influential house owners are members of these committees. The respondents engaged with

People’s Power and Politics  163 active party politics possessed a political network with the local leaders. These local leaders create a political network between party leaders and state bureaucrats through party politics to gain services for the neighborhood. On the one hand, local leaders, as house owners, collect rents and fees for utilities, which they manage informally through the socio-political network. On the other hand, they manage the whole community through their authoritative local leadership and local committees. There are differences among these local leaders based on their political activities, community participation, dominance, and connectivity with external political actors. For example, those who act as the musclemen of the central leaders and terrorize the neighborhood are called mastaans or goons. Ahmed (2004) shows how local leaders maintain the “mastaan structure” in the neighborhood and manage their efforts to extort votes from the community during elections. Thus, political parties in Dhaka began to develop in informal neighborhoods as voting banks that were primarily run by local leaders, who offered services in collaboration with the central leaders. The mastaans became influential political actors of the community through the provision of services and securing votes for central leaders in return for services and other benefits. Mastaans are portrayed “as mediating access to work and public services, as running extortion networks and providing political muscle” (Jackman 2018, 1214). Almost 80% of the households in the informal neighborhoods pay rent, which is managed by these local “mafia” known as goons or mastaans (CUS 2006) (Figure 6.1). Local leaders and mastaans appear to be synonymous, yet there is a minor distinction between the two categories. In their interviews, the majority of respondents used the terms local leaders and mastaans interchangeably, which may explain why

Figure 6.1  Typology of Local Leadership in Korail Source: Fieldwork

164  People’s Power and Politics the line between them is not highly visible. For example, many influential house owners who were not necessarily mastaans were called mastaans by numerous respondents. The idea behind this is that unlawfully seizing property and building several houses without being a mastaan is impossible. According to conversations with powerful leaders, mastaans engage in land grabbing, extortion, murder, and other violent crimes because they are ready to use violence to achieve their goals. On 18 August 2022, a man was murdered in a clash between two groups over control of committee membership and gas line business in Korail. For a long time, there was a dispute between two groups over the formation of unit committee of AL party in Korail. They instill terror in the neighborhood so that everyone is terrified of them, and they gain power. Although they are frequently linked with important political figures, not everyone engages in politics. They often serve as musclemen for larger political leaders, and some of them enter politics intending to become local or national political leaders. To ensure a large number of voting, the national leaders depend on local leaders. The latter can ensure votes if they have authoritative relationships with community residents, usually in the form of local patronage (Berenschot 2018). In Korail, people who want to be local leaders gradually try to distinguish themselves from the mastaan image. Some leaders are attached to community development activities, and some with violence; however, others possess both at different times. For example, Helal was a mastaan, and he grabbed land using violence. For the last few years, he became a political leader and offered benefits to ordinary people to gain votes and support for his party leader, the ward commissioner. Some significant local leaders, like Helal, were among my respondents, and their image progressed from mastaans to local political leaders over time. They achieved their authoritative positions by establishing patron-client relations with external patrons; however, they also act as patrons in the neighborhood to obtain local leadership. They are more concerned with establishing rights with a power base inside the community than with an external patron; however, they utilize an external patron to position themselves as an internal patron. I will analyze how they became local patrons through political actions in the second portion of this chapter. The main strength of the local patrons comes from their connections with other influential urban actors, which ordinary residents do not usually have. Survival in an informal neighborhood necessitates that the local leaders and house owners build strategic relationships through formal and informal political actions with government officials, national leaders, police, and others. This relationship is deeply rooted in the political-economic structure of Korail. These external networks often allow local patrons to benefit economically. For example, on the one hand, as a client of an elected political leader, Helal had local political power and position. On the other hand, he often offered jobs, loans, and assistance with housing to others and became a patron within the neighborhood. The more followers a local patron can create in the neighborhood, the more he appeals to the outside patrons. These local patrons work in their self-interest as well as community welfare. As people who have achieved a level of individual inclusion, they utilize their clout to get houses, electricity, running water, and gas connections. They begin to work

People’s Power and Politics  165 for community inclusion to maintain their local leadership. In this field of local politics, some resort to corruption and violence, but they also offer benefits to followers. Violence plays a significant role in many situations, such as factional politics, extortion, and murder. Circumstances can alter if the political party in power changes or if the local patron’s economic resources or influence are depleted. With the change of government, the power and position of the local leaders or mastaans also changes. For example, Kuber and Aziz, who were politically influential during the BNP government, were forced to leave their line business to members of the ruling AL party after the change of government. This emphasizes the precariousness of this informal power. These two former local patrons already had a degree of personal inclusion because they both owned many homes in Korail, but the utility line businesses could not be maintained. They also hoped to return to power if the governing party changed, allowing them to reclaim their line enterprises. To gain access to government offices and networks, the common residents of Korail maintained socio-political relationships with these local leaders. For example, residents who needed papers signed by the DNCC office, to validate birth, marriage, divorce, remarriage, unemployment, inheritance, nationality, character, annual income, and deaths, went through Hasib, who had access to external actors who could help. Both local leaders and common people shared experiences about their political participation, activities, and alliances. The elected members do not have a common platform for listening to the people; they only deal with problems they have heard from the local leaders who communicate with them individually. Some grassroots political committees also connect with the voters. Local leaders are universally house owners with multiple rooms. Fotik was a mastaan and a line businessman who engages in an electricity supply business. Linemen specialize in providing informal utilities, such as water, electricity, and gas, through illegal pirate hookups. His political position was crucial in gaining support from government officials for his business; therefore, Fotik was lobbying to stay on the local committee of the ruling party. In most cases, the mastaans or local leaders are influenced by their superiors, who are referred to as “godfathers” or “big brothers.” The mastaans or local leaders act beneath the godfathers, who use them for political protection, successful campaigns, and the development of voting banks. For example, Nazir, who had gained power as an emerging youth leader, was trying to become more influential through a kind of clientelism with his immediate boss, Helal. Nazir was inspired by Helal’s activities, political position, and power. Those who choose clientelism, like Nazir, considered it a strategy of political inclusion. Korail’s political committees control its socio-economic and political life. Influential local leaders and house owners are the heads and members of these committees. They actively engage in government party politics, given the fact that the existence of their neighborhood was threatened if they were not affiliated with the government party. They ensure the provision of services, and they act as a primary middleman between formal service providers and the residents. To get utility and services, these local leaders choose clientelism through maintaining political

166  People’s Power and Politics networks with national leaders. Again, by political patronage at the local level, these local leaders control Korail’s socio-economic and political life. BRP Management, Political Organizations, and Actors

In BRP, the management office supersedes the role of local leaders. The BRP office administered the neighborhood, including utility supply, repairs, and payment collection. Moreover, in contrast to Korail (around 30,000 voters), BRP is not a vital voting bank since only a limited number of voters (approximately 1,200) live there. The BRP does not directly attract the interest of the external forces that play a key role in Korial. Despite some influential flat owners, BRP residents could not create a local leadership structure due to the bureaucratic management, directly administered by the Land Ministry. Because there are questions and conflicts regarding the power of the superintendent, the politics of BRP are primarily concerned with project management. The BRP chief is a formal head, but not a representative of the people who live in BRP. BRP respondents stated that they had to accept the domination of the BRP office. Many of the tenants maintained strong networks with the BRP office in the hopes of getting a flat in the future. While Korail had multiple powerful actors, everyone in BRP pointed to the BRP office as a powerful actor whose administrative control they had to accept. BRP residents initially believed that the government takeover of the project from the NSPDL would be beneficial. One year after the NSPDL chief was fired, however, they realized that the corruption had not changed, regardless of who was in charge. The present BRP chief is the leading authority. The chief supervises whether the project’s work is carried out properly, project cost, budget, and development activities. Residents need to obey his rules. Political actors in BRP include influential flat owners, many of whom used to be local leaders in Bhashantek. Not all of them resided in their BRP flats. Many flat owners, in particular the absentee owners, maintain a cordial relationship with the BRP chief. Even though these owners do not live in the BRP, they remain members of the flat owners’ association. The members of BRP flat owners’ association were internal political actors, but the BRP office stopped their activities. Two representatives, elected from each building, are supposed to meet every three months. Overall, there were 36 representatives on the committee. The responsibility of the flat owners’ association is to review the bills paid by the residents and the accounts of the proceeds from the rent of the garage and cattle farm, initiated as a source of income for the project. The association should determine whether the project office is managing these sources of income properly. Monthly expenses for the project include staff salaries, water pump repairs, security, and waste management. The money is provided from the monthly fees paid by residents. After taking charge, the present BRP chief held board meetings in 2011 with the leaders of the flat owners’ association. The influential flat owners usually supported the decisions of the project chief. Essentially, they supported one another. Flat owners were able to illegally rent out their apartments in return for the support of the

People’s Power and Politics  167 project chief. However, some association members started claiming that the chief needed to show proper documents and accounts of income and expenditure. The bureaucratic administration could not accept their actions. Therefore, the meetings abruptly ceased. These flat owners organized collective protests against the current administration, which I will discuss in more detail below. Another group of political actors is known as Mullah Bahini (the local political structure of Bhashantek, mostly local goons). This leadership was somewhat transformed as some residents moved to BRP. Some of the group’s leaders were able to buy multiple flats as discussed above. Because this leadership has political authority in both Bhashantek and BRP, they try to control BRP. This leadership is split into two factions, one backing the current BRP head and the other, the previous NSPDL chief. Since many flat owners protested against the present BRP chief, he accepted support from the Mullah Bahini due to their muscle and political power. When the NSPDL chief experienced difficulties during the earlier building and flat allotment procedures, he survived with the help of some Mullah Bahini. The lack of party politics inside the BRP also discouraged the development of political actors there. Local leaders in Korail were more interested in community leadership since being a leader created business opportunities in service provision, which the BRP office administered exclusively. There is no room for brokerage at BRP because it is run by a formal administration. Construction on BRP is unfinished, and work may resume in the wake of a new tender announcement. Both the NSPDL and Mullah Bahini want to participate, and there is political-economic tension between these groups and the BRP administration. Interviews with the three groups clarified that their interests revolved around controlling the BRP neighborhood and subsequent construction (Figure 6.2). The BRP office collects money from the residents every month for fees to pay for utilities and services. The flat owners’ association leaders cannot account for where the money is spent, and many flat owners are skeptical about the validity of expenses. The financial issues have created divisions between the residents and

Figure 6.2  Political Structure of the BRP Source: Fieldwork

168  People’s Power and Politics the BRP office. Many flat owners believed that the re-establishment of the NSPDL would be a better option. The local leaders of Mullah Bahini also believed that if they got power over future project construction work and supervision of the BRP, they too would do a better job. In this context, some BRP residents organized against the present BRP administration. I analyze these activities in the second section. Internal and External Political Actors

Respondents in both neighborhoods reported that they had to face the domination of powerful political actors, internal and external. In all cases, external actors such as national leaders, officials, and NGOs were dominant. Internally, the relatively powerful local leaders dominated the common people. Most of the time, internal and external powerful actors work together, though both prioritize their interests. For example, when the NGOs devised a project, they initially contacted local leaders. The local leaders could involve themselves, family members, or supporters in the project to maintain their power of patronage. On the other hand, NGOs could work smoothly if they get local leaders’ support. Internal Political Actors Within the neighborhood, respondents possessed different political attitudes. Some respondents accepted the domination of political actors, and some countered it. Domination poses risks to inclusion. Factional politics exists between powerful local leaders, which can result in land grabbing, extortion, and murder, and disrupts livelihoods. The more disadvantaged Korail respondents experienced a higher level of dominance and were less likely to challenge more powerful political actors. Some ordinary house owners reported that they had to accept the dominance of the local patrons to secure their housing; this was a strategy to increase inclusion. Some tenants did not intend to stay in Korail for a long time; therefore, they did not accept dominance as they planned to return to their villages. On the other hand, all the BRP tenants had to accept the dominance of the BRP office and flat owners. A Korail tenant can change their housing if they do not like the house owner’s dominance. In Korail, there are many opportunities for equivalent housing at a similar price or lesser price; people can more easily move to another place, whereas, in BRP, there is limited number of flats. Therefore, it is more expensive to move, and people are less likely to do so. Some Korail tenants migrated to other informal neighborhoods because of the domination of local leadership. For example, several female respondents reported that they were compelled to change housing several times because of sexual harassment from house owners and internal powerful actors. External Political Actors Both BRP and Korail respondents said that like internal actors, they had to face the domination of external powerful political actors, who are involved in the social,

People’s Power and Politics  169 economic, and political life of these neighborhoods. For example, to gain utilities and services, it is essential to lobby national leaders, big brothers, and government officials. In community participation projects, external powerful actors such as NGOs or government agencies displayed similar top-down approaches toward the poor community; each had its interests. Respondents said that NGOs primarily worked with house owners and local leaders instead of tenants or poorer groups. NGOs maintained good rapport with local leaders to gain more credibility. Even when they formed CBOs, NGOs chose the house owners. During moments of crisis, the municipal government provided some welfare. The local leaders, however, often allocated it to their supporters. For example, the DNCC mayor gave blankets to Korail dwellers during the winter. Most were distributed through the local leaders, who first took blankets for themselves and for their families, friends, clients, and relatives. The poorer groups of respondents were often deprived of the blankets meant for them. Other Important Political Actors There are some important political actors with whom residents of both neighborhoods interact such as police, political big brothers, and goons. Many residents of Korail and BRP conducted their businesses and engaged in informal jobs in other neighborhoods; therefore, they had to maintain a relationship with the street police, political party leaders, and local goons in those neighborhoods. In this section, I will discuss how the respondents of both neighborhoods conducted their businesses in collusion with these important political actors through informal means such as bribery and patron-client networks, etc. These political workers, leaders, and the goons are affiliated with the ruling party, which gives them the power to control the social, economic, and political spheres of an area. Korail residents needed the support of the duty police to continue unauthorized utility businesses and gain support from government officials. The Korail leaders also formed a security force called the Korail Community-Policing committee to supply round-the-clock security. The metropolitan police developed a communitypolicing strategy to encourage the public to partner with the city police to control and prevent crime. Therefore, local leadership formed a community-policing body with the support of Dhaka Metropolitan Police (DMP) to protect Korail. The members of this body assist the police with information about crime, criminals, and resources, opinions and moral support for crime prevention programs. On the other hand, the BRP office recruited security guards to ensure project security. Although both the neighborhoods have their own security arrangements, the presence of DMP is noticeable as well. In part, this is because the Bhashantek police station is located inside the BRP compound. Korail is situated close to the Banani police station; whenever I visited Korail, I saw a few duty police in the Korail bazaars. Many respondents said that the relationship between Korail residents and the police is complicated. On the one hand, it is antagonistic and often lacks mutual respect and trust. However, during fieldwork, I saw police in the bazaars, inside shops, drinking tea, gossiping, and sharing food with shopkeepers, local leaders,

170  People’s Power and Politics and other people. The police also pose risks to Korail residents, who have adopted diverse strategies to deal with them. There are many ways that residents interact with the police. Informal service providers try to manage the police in Korail; entrepreneurs such as street food sellers, rickshaw pullers, van drivers, and other petty businessmen encounter police as a problem, and the BRP respondents face the police as they share the BRP compound together. Informal service providers conduct their everyday activities in the presence of police. Informal service providers worked with illegal water, electricity, or gas connections and interacted with police from the local police station almost daily. Police were aware of the informal businesses and the informal service providers, also known as linemen. Most of the duty police received a commission from these linemen; however, police who did not get commissions, but would like to have them, prevented linemen from connecting new lines. Informal service providers reported that some police arrested them for conducting illegal businesses as a strategy to increase their financial gain. The cooperative relationship between the linemen, government officials from service provision offices, and the police are based on informal strategic interaction, which respondents called “commission-based businesses.” Linemen refer to the police as “business partners.” Kuber said that the police took bribes every month when he was an informal service provider. Hasib said: “Both formal service provision officials and police receive certain informal financial rewards for indirectly supporting informal service providers. They are also part of this informal business.” He countered by asking me, Do you think that the police don’t know that almost every house has access to electricity? Don’t they know the process through which we connect these illegal lines? The DESCO officials and the police are involved in this business. We need to provide a fix amount of money to them every month. The linemen sometimes had to face the risk of a police raid, however. For example, police may disconnect illegal utility connections and arrest the linemen. The linemen often attempt to convince the local police, particularly those to whom they regularly provide a commission to prevent the raids. Riajuddin, the president of a rural home organization, revealed: If you bribe the police, everything is okay in Korail, but if you refuse to give them money, they will call you a criminal. If you go through the newspaper, you will see the information on how the police collect a large amount of money per month from Korail, as commission from the linemen for utilities. Riajuddin also said, There are strong allegations that the police share illegal earnings. The illegal service providers and local leaders, who are Korail builders, change their political allegiances as soon as the ruling party changes. Police are

People’s Power and Politics  171 transferred, and new officers come. But everything remains the same, except for a few new faces. The duty police said that the police do not allow illegal utility services in Korail. One police officer said, “If you read the newspaper, you will see a few days ago, we arrested a drug dealer from Korail, who is also an illegal electricity service provider. Who caught them?” When I shared this with Riajuddin, he stated that there is always a political reason behind such an arrest: either that person is a member of the opposition political party or clashed with or disobeyed the political leaders. A bureaucrat of the Titas gas company said that upper-level bureaucrats were disappointed about the attitude of the Korail police, who did not seem interested in taking action against the illegal utility businesses. The official said, When the audit officials go to the Korail for field visits, they disconnected the illegal lines. But after a few hours, they were reconnected. How was it possible if police didn’t support them in this business? We and other state officials informed the police several times to take action against these illegal connections, but they refused to bring cases against those involved in setting up the lines. Or sometimes they took action to no result. After reporting the matter to the police, the police said that it is because of their audit officers that the linemen get the opportunity to conduct these illegal businesses. The field-level audit is to cut off unlawful connections and punish individuals who take them; however, it is evident from the linemen’s interviews that these audit officials are more interested in discovering how to create new unlawful connections than disconnecting existing connections. In Chapter 4, I recounted Kuber’s interview, in which he claimed that government officials and police assisted him in obtaining illegal electricity and gas lines in exchange for a commission. It indicates that corruption allows these strategies to work. As Korail residents did not receive formal services, they considered informal services as a path to inclusion. Informalities within the formal structure were an indicator of their inclusion. Analysis of this behavior reveals two different forms of police management: receiving commissions and transferring uncooperative police through informal political networks. Both Korail and BRP residents had to maintain a relationship with the street police in those neighborhoods, where they conducted their businesses. Shamsu, a vegetable vendor, sold produce in Gulshan, an affluent neighborhood. He had to maintain a relationship with the street police to occupy the space on the road. He paid commission not only to the police but also to the local political leaders who controlled the area. The police became more involved if parking regulations were contravened. According to Shamsu, All the roads of the city are divided and controlled by the local police and the local mastaans who control area politics and businesses. If you want to do business on the road, you have to pay a commission to both parties. Otherwise, you will be evicted within a few days.

172  People’s Power and Politics Washim, who sold chotpoti (a traditional street food) in front of a college, told me that he had to give 1,000 taka (US$9.36) per month to the street police for this position. He also had to pay 3,000 taka (US$28) per month to political big ­brothers who control the area politically. Sometimes, traffic police also demand money. While interviewing Solaiman during field research, customers came to bargain for vegetables. Out of the blue, a beat police officer came sniggering: “Hey, buddy, having a jolly old time selling veggies? You see, while you are dealing in cash, your van is blocking the street!” The police officer attempted to roll the van over. Experienced in his business, Solaiman started grovelling on the street, asking for mercy: “Please, sir, this will never happen again. Please forgive me. This van is all I have. If you break it, my family will die without food.” As I was going to intervene, the policeman asked Solaiman to accompany him to the police station. After approximately 20 paces, Solaiman removed cash hidden in a corner of his lungi (male skirt) and dropped it in the policeman’s gaping hand. The policeman left without uttering another word. As Solaiman returned, I asked him: “What’s the matter?” He replied bitterly: “It was just a show to get some cash.” He explained, I’m familiar with this old trick of the street police. As soon as you slide some cash into their pockets, the high and mighty law and order disappears into oblivion. Don’t pay and the hands of justice will choke you to death. Once I decided that I wouldn’t pay them every day. I was arrested and taken to the station. What I observed there terrified me. Those who paid were released. Those who refused were beaten black and blue. I no longer refuse. Apart from them, I have to pay the local mastaans as well. I make my payments, 50 taka ($0.47) daily. Whether I’m able to sell something today or not is not their concern. If one forgets to pay his dues, the street cops seize everything and hold him hostage. The thugs, on the other hand, are not so decent. They smash everything to bits. Nonetheless, they don’t terrify me as cops do. I can reason with the hooligans, but the cops are legalized goons, which gives them the power to do what they wish. As a result, all of us subalterns, for example, vegetable vendors, rickshaw, or auto-rickshaw drivers, we all must pay an additional tax to our masters in uniform. When I first came to Dhaka eleven years ago, I didn’t understand all this. I used to get so upset and frustrated that I blamed myself for being poor and starving, and sought justice from God. One day, a fruit seller named Bablu said, “If you want to survive in this city, you’ll have to be strategic. The police will not directly ask you to provide bribes but will destroy your product if you don’t offer them a good bribe. Grow up, be smart, and make connections.” Immediately, I didn’t grasp the significance of his words. So, I observed him closely, who he hobnobbed with and the image he projected of himself. I started to follow him, to make connections that still help me out. I still have to pay bribes, but not as punctually as I used to. They don’t smash my belongings anymore either. Just like the fruit-seller, sometimes I too stop by at duty police’s home in the morning and pay my respects, for example a few kilos of okra, or whatever

People’s Power and Politics  173 I have bought from the wholesale market. I’m on good terms with the police as well as hoodlums. This helps. Nobody beats anymore if I fail to pay one day. They allow me to make payments the next day. One thing is clear from Solaiman’s case to avoid obstacles to doing street business in the city, entrepreneurs must keep the employees of the state satisfied. These poor businessmen are deprived more than once by the state. First, due to state rules and regulations, they are excluded from gaining public space for doing their business. By providing regular bribes to state actors, they are excluded a second time. Like Solaiman, street vendors, rickshaw pullers, and other petty traders face almost the same experiences with street police. Police manipulate the fact that it is their responsibility to keep free the public space and the street from the hawkers; however, entrepreneurs can use them if they bribe the police. It was challenging to run an informal business without a relationship with the police and the local goons. Like Korail, BRP’s street food sellers and other small businessmen shared their stories regarding how they managed the police and local goons to continue their street businesses. For example, Dulal, a street seller, occupied a space on Mirpur Road near BRP. He said, One day, a police officer came to me and told me to sell him a bedding set at half price, despite the fact I used to provide bribes to him. I also had to provide 3,000 taka ($28) monthly to the local goons. Respondents said that providing informal fees to the street police became their strategy to occupy public spaces; otherwise, they could be evicted at any moment. If anyone did business in front of a market, then the bribe tripled. Hawkers roaming Gulshan market and its environs or sitting on the sidewalk had to pay a minimum of 300 taka (US$2.80) a day. The economic inclusion of the hawkers of both Korail and BRP depended on paying these informal fees. Their responses clarify several things: if someone wishes to engage in any business in the city, they will first have to deal with the police. Second, if a person can offer regular bribes to the police, he or she can continue doing business without fear of being raided. Third, mastering a strategy for establishing an informal relationship with the police increases one’s level of inclusion in the city’s economy. Although the city encourages poor people to come to town because it needs their services, its prohibitions obstruct their jobs. To overcome the state-created barriers, authorities, such as the police, take bribes to allow people to participate in the informal sector. In general, the majority of the respondents of both Korail and BRP reported that they always tried to avoid interactions with the police. On the other hand, local leaders tried to maintain good relationships with them. Approximately 86% of Korail respondents preferred to go to community leaders or request a shalish (informal judiciary process) to solve their problems rather than to go to the police station. However, due to the lack of informal socio-political life in BRP, there was no informal judiciary; therefore, they had to go to the police station.

174  People’s Power and Politics Encounters with the police in Korail result in harassment or the obligation to pay a bribe to avoid arrest and incarceration. The majority of the respondents complained that the police failed to assist them. Nevertheless, in all three Korail bazaars, male shopkeepers maintained a strategic relationship with local police. Police were often seen with tea and snacks in local shops. The majority of the time, shopkeepers did not take money, as they considered it a strategy to maintain a good relationship. According to Lokman, a shop owner, To maintain a good relationship with the police is important for those who have stores here in the bazaar. So, non-monetary treats build a relationship between the shop owners and the police. They are not asking us to give free food to them; rather, we shopkeepers do it for our own interest. For example, I offer them tea so that our relationship becomes informal and friendly. Violent incidents often occur in the bazaar. I need to be careful that my shop won’t come under attack. If I have a good relationship with the police, the mastaans will think twice about damaging my shop. BRP respondents had different experiences in encounters with the police. There were previous conflicts, such as during eviction and protests against NSPDL. The evictees assembled and stormed the project gate when they discovered they had not been allocated flats a few months before the BRP launch. However, the police monitored their movements in the BRP and dispersed the evictees when they attempted to attack the NSPDL office. The police harassed several evictees who protested against the BRP administration. Political Actions This section will analyze how the respondents of both neighborhoods interact with powerful political actors and the political actions they employ. First, I will explain the actions they employ and then analyze the respondents’ power of interaction, political actions, relations, transactions, and strategies with powerful actors. Here, I consider all kinds of participation in political action as an indication of inclusion. Respondents actively participated in party politics, community development projects, lawsuits, bribery, and protests. At the same time, many of these actions are undertaken as a strategy to increase inclusion. Party Politics, Election Campaign, and Voting

Most of Korail is situated in ward 19 of the DNCC, with a small part in ward 20. Due to Korail’s sizable number of voters (about 30,000), it is considered a vital voting bank by all political parties. On the other hand, the BRP, with 1,200 voters, is located in ward 15. Both neighborhoods belong to the same parliamentary constituency, Dhaka-17, where there are 313,998 voters. According to the respondents and political leaders, during DNCC elections, apart from Korail, other neighborhoods of ward 19 are elite, and voters in these elite areas are less interested in

People’s Power and Politics  175 voting. The media also claimed that the voting bank of Korail was crucial for the candidates. Political leaders predicted that the winner would be the person who could gain the Korail voting bank. Korail residents could choose candidates in the hope of getting more civic services. For example, Hasib said: “We need services; therefore, we are interested in becoming involved in elections for our own community interest.” A national leader also said that the Korail voting bank always makes the difference between victory and defeat. This indicates a strategy for becoming greater inclusion. During the last national general election in 2018, many election posters and banners were seen across Korail but none in BRP. Election activity in BRP was relatively low due to the low number of voters, lack of party leadership within the community, and prohibition of political activities. On the other hand, in Korail, before the election, every political party planned a systematic and organized campaign program by forming election committees. Posters and banners festooned Korail and made it colorful and noisy, and candidates and party officials campaigned uninterrupted. Local leaders prepared numerous rallies. For example, in the afternoon of 12 December 2018, the Korail Juba League (AL party’s organization) activists staged a motorbike rally and chanted slogans. Local leaders offered cold drinks to youths. Approximately one hour later, a parade in favor of the JP candidate, General Ershad, was assembled. Many joined the procession on foot. The next day, the candidates of other parties also campaigned in Korail. Local leaders and their followers tried to recruit voters. Several parties divided the committees into active partisan groups, such as women, youth, and different associations to connect with voters. Workers crowded in front of the party office with slogans. There was a competition among local leaders regarding how many people they could gather for their immediate leaders. Fotik had the responsibility of bringing the people from his unit to the campaign. He collected people in the Jamai Bazaar and ordered three tea stalls to serve tea and biscuits. Within an hour, he had gathered approximately 200 people, and at one stage, they marched toward Banani field to chant the candidate’s name. Almost every teashop of the Korail bazaars provided breakfast and tea to voters. The candidates’ budgets paid the bill. As soon as a candidate arrived in Jamai Bazaar, the entire area became vibrant with supporters’ chanting slogans. They held pre-election rallies, took walking

Figure 6.3  Election Campaign in Korail Source: Fieldwork

176  People’s Power and Politics tours in all the bazaars, and shook hands with shopkeepers, seeking their votes. Some of them approached houses and distributed gifts of food, clothing, T-shirts, umbrellas, and hats. They also held small gatherings in different bazaars (Figure  6.3). They promised to ensure electricity, free medical care, and primary education to improve living standards. Several candidates spoke in favor of the development of a sewerage system. Other candidates promised mosquito-free neighborhoods, and some said they would develop roads. Although such promises were typical among candidates, few kept their word upon gaining power. In contrast to Korail, there are no political party committees in the BRP. Since BRP is situated in a government housing project and run by a state agency, the government party (the AL, which has been ruling the country since the establishment of the BRP) expects to receive the votes of the BRP residents. BRP respondents said that the candidates take into account the entire Bhashantek area including the informal neighborhoods, not just BRP. Indeed, the population of BRP is just a minority of the area’s population. At the same time, there is no utility shortage in BRP except low gas pressure; therefore, they are not as interested as Korail in using political means to get utilities. Electoral politics is not necessarily the strategy of choice to increase inclusion among BRP residents. A small group of women went from house to house in Korail (Figure 6.4), trying to persuade female voters to vote for their respective candidates. These women were primarily the wives of local leaders; however, some were tenants as well. I observed how they convinced the voters; I overheard Tayeba saying to the women: “If we vote for

Figure 6.4  Candidates’ Wives Were in Korail Election Campaign Source: Fieldwork

People’s Power and Politics  177 the government party candidate, we will receive benefits from the government. If we want service and progress in Korail, we should vote for him.” Korail residents interacted with national and DNCC elected officials, including their Members of Parliament, the mayor, and the ward commissioner, to get housing and other welfare benefits in exchange for their votes. Numerous Korail residents reported that votes could change their housing conditions; therefore, by engaging in party politics, or at least, by voting, they could become more included. For example, the Korail development committee named their neighborhood “Korail Adorsho Nogori,” in English “Korail Ideal City.” For this name, they got support from the then DNCC mayor. Since they did not have legal house holding numbers, after the 2015 DNCC election, the Korail local leaders demanded the newly elected mayor for a neighborhood name so they could use it as their home address. They said after receiving the name, although it was unofficial, they could now write their home address on different official papers e.g., children’s school admission forms, job applications, etc. By maintaining a political lobby with the elected leaders, using voting rights, and patron-client networks, they finally managed to get this name. Therefore, electoral politics as a formal tool is essential for their inclusion. “Though we know that gaining access to services is not as simple as a vote, still, a vote has the power to gain services,” said local leader, Helal. He elaborated, We were seen merely as a voting bank; however, now the time has changed. During voting, it was not clear who was the beggar and who was the house owner, for only the ballot is counted. The reason for this is that cities are becoming more accommodating to us and our demands, and the most important thing is that we are now being heard. Our political affiliation and hard work have successfully shown that we are a political force. Many candidates that we have supported in the DNCC and Parliamentary elections have come to power. We can go to the elected leaders and claim that we voted for you, and you won. Now give us a chance to gain citizenship by providing services. Helal described how he and his assistants would knock door-to-door to ask for votes on the behalf of his candidate. Helal’s comment demonstrates that their voice and standing as citizens are recognized through the political process of voting. Except for a few workers of opposition parties, all local leaders and employees, including him, asked citizens to increase their votes for ruling-party candidates so that the leaders could rely on them. Many respondents stated that they voted for the candidates hoping that they would protect them after the election. It is because of these voters that Korail ensured its survival. For the people of Korail, active party politics is a strategy of inclusion. Many respondents claimed that Korail people should vote for the governing party’s candidate in the mayoral election. If any candidate from the opposition party became mayor or ward commissioner, the government would have limited opportunities to develop Korail. As a result, while a government is in power, they believe it is wise to vote for the candidate of that party, rather than the candidate of the opposition party, believing it will help them secure citizenship, community development, and other advantages.

178  People’s Power and Politics Both the then mayor and the ward commissioner said in their interviews that they did not want their big voting bank to be evicted. This was a sign that politicians saw them as important citizens. The mayor and the commissioner both promised during the campaign to provide Korail residents with services if they won. For example, they claimed that the DNCC made arrangements for 100 vans to collect garbage through NGOs, provide street lighting, ensure security, and provide benefits such as blankets, food, and clothes during disasters. This ward commissioner claimed that he and his mayor kept their election promises. He stated that, Through a community project with NGOs and a donor agency, we gave them more than a hundred vans to collect their garbage; we constructed roads and provided water from DWASA with DSK, and we arranged to establish community-­policing committee with the support of the DMP police to ensure security in Korail. We always stand with them in case of a fire or any other danger. When you enter any house in Korail, you will see that it has an informal house holding number and they have named it the “Korail Ideal City.” We are not hindering their development activities; rather, we are trying to give them the help they desire. They helped me to win in the election battlefield; now it is my responsibility to help them to gain citizenship. When Korail leaders received verbal endorsement from the DNCC and DMP police as “Korail Ideal City,” many respondents considered it an indirect approval from state agencies. However, it was neither an official name nor a formal approval. Claims to unofficial name for the neighborhood are thus both about citizenship as a form of recognition and also claims to the essential benefits that increase inclusion in the city. Like the ward commissioner, other political leaders also said individually they never wanted Korail to be evicted because they needed the voters who campaigned and voted for their candidates. They believed that voters in developed residential neighborhoods were not as active as voters in the informal neighborhood. The elected MP said that when he went to a public meeting at the Banani ground during the election, few elites from Banani were present. Instead, the people in the meeting were from Korail and adjacent informal neighborhoods. Leaders value this because the Korail local leaders stand by them on the electoral battlefield. That is the main reason that political parties and party leaders seek to create alliances with them. Local leaders, in turn, need these national leaders for community improvement. There was a time when influential residents appeared to benefit from being ­musclemen. However, since 1994, the formal voting rights bestowed upon the urban poor strengthened political participation; now, many local leaders aspire to gain further influence by becoming political party and community leaders, instead of musclemen. During the interim government (2006–2008) under military control, many local leaders realized that Korail could not be saved through muscle power alone. They were more subject to arrest by the police for their misdeeds. Some had to flee because of the change of government; a few were killed by gunfire surrounding land grabbing or illegal businesses; some were simply taken away by the

People’s Power and Politics  179

Figure 6.5  Mayor Distributes Relief During Covid-19 Source: Fieldwork

police. Numerous musclemen, therefore, became directly involved in party politics because they felt it could serve the people and protect the neighborhood. Majid, a local leader said, There have been many elections in between, and we have been able to build a strong position in politics with our votes. As a result, now the elected leaders listen to our demands very seriously and in many cases fulfill our demands through community participation projects such as water supply. I would say this is possible because of the power of our voting bank. The majority of the respondents’ responses were similar to Majid’s. The local leaders consistently displayed concern regarding the elections since Korail’s voting bank was vital. They considered themselves to be spokesmen on behalf of candidates or political parties and felt pressured to manage their neighborhood voting bank. When I asked why they felt they were under pressure, all the local leaders gave identical responses. Their patrons have a reciprocal interest in them, and each expects something from the other. For example, Khalil said: “Just as I want the help of my patron to run my informal business, so my patron expects votes.” As Kuber stated, his political identity once helped him in the utility business, which he lost them after the government changed. The local leaders and influential house owners are usually connected with the higher level of party leaders and oversee the local leadership of Korail. That is why a local leader’s assistant, Fotik, was lobbying to become a committee member. He said that engaging with electoral politics was an important strategy to survive in the urban space and gain citizenship. After the election, local leaders have the right to urge those they elected to undertake development in their interest. Elected leaders are under less pressure to be directly responsive to voters after elections. On the other hand, voters have expectations and demands for the officials

180  People’s Power and Politics they elected. For example, candidates pledged road construction, insect repellent, and neighborhood cleanliness during the campaign. In response to public pressure, elected officials enlisted the help of politically connected local leaders to meet their requests. Local leaders serve as go-betweens for elected authorities and residents in this situation. They deliver the voters’ demands to the elected leaders, and on the other hand, they do what is necessary to meet the demand on behalf of the leaders. For example, after a fire, they inform the ward commissioner of the assistance they require; then they decide how to distribute relief and to whom. To fulfill their role as intermediaries, they are frequently rewarded handsomely on both sides; they can generate local clients and a considerable following, while they also build a robust political network with elected officials. Some local leaders have grown in authority as a result of their contacts. Because there was no direct connection between high-level leaders and voters, local leaders had the chance to employ both groups to expand their power bases. For example, Taher had a strong connection with political leaders and government officials, which helped him get electricity from DESCO. This solid political network gave him authority in the community, and he used his political connections to control the neighborhood, for example, an area of Korail’s informal electrical service. The mayor and ward commissioners came forward after a devastating fire during my fieldwork. The present Mayor distributed relief during Covid-19 (Figure 6.5). The respondents acknowledged that the DNCC helped them with the recovery. This aid, however, was primarily due to the pressure of the voters, according to the respondents since these elected officials need votes from Korail residents to remain in office. From this incident, it is clear that if the mayor/commissioner does not come to the aid of people in times of danger, they will remember this during the election and the elected officials will receive fewer votes. That is why the people’s representatives offer aid during emergencies (Figure 6.6). Wherever local leaders experienced obstacles to their control of Korail through administrative action, they contacted high-level patrons to intervene for them. For example, in the case of the gas business, a violent incident occurred between two linemen over the occupation of an area in Korail. The police arrested both men for conducting illegal gas businesses, but both were released after two days on the orders of an influential political leader. That leader summoned both men, told them to fix the boundaries between them and to conduct their business in cooperation with each other. One said that they both had to provide a monthly commission to that leader. Several respondents said, particularly local leaders employed political techniques to increase inclusivity. They believe that only the Korail leaders have the power to influence the authorities to undertake development projects after the election. Both national and local leaders were aware that their economic goals were not achievable without a political link between them. There were numerous attempts from both sides to maintain that link. Some respondents reported that political affiliation created opportunities from the party in power. When the party lost power, the opportunities disappeared. Therefore, some people maintain political networks but ensure that they are not publicly noticeable. They fear that if they actively engage with politics and the government changes, people from the party in power

People’s Power and Politics  181

Figure 6.6  During a Fire the Then Mayor Came to Korail

will occupy their house. Approximately 8% of the Korail respondents and 11% of the BRP respondents avoided talking about their participation in politics. However, some respondents were not actively involved in party politics, as they could not see a platform through which they could press their demands to those they elected. Many residents cannot vote in the city, but they do not always publicize this, since they have realized that they do not possess any value as non-voters. By being a voter, one has value in the urban political field. Therefore, being able to vote is one measure of inclusion. Some were non-voters; others could not vote for various reasons. Hasib, in his years of community organizing as a local leader, saw the many practical hurdles that kept Korail inhabitants from making their voices heard. For example, new migrants often found it difficult to register. They struggled to earn a living and did not have time to undertake the administrative process. Unwillingness to become a city voter was also another motivation. The primary goal of many residents is to send a portion of their monthly earnings to their village families. As a result, they want to return to the village and vote in local elections. However, even registered voters might not vote because of time constraints, illness, lack of transportation, disapproval of candidate choices, and lack of interest. A few respondents could not cast ballots as a clash between two groups intimidated them. However, the majority of Korail’s registered voters voted in both national and city corporation elections. Even some respondents who saw themselves as minimally included voted under pressure from local leaders. For example, some tenants claimed they were obliged by the local leaders to vote. Korimon stated that she became a city voter at the request of Hasib. Korimon said an election occurs once every five years, during which the politicians or local leaders pay attention to them for a few days. Abu, a waste collector, said that all the political parties campaigned

182  People’s Power and Politics to capture the votes of Korail residents during the pre-election ­campaign. Abu shared his experience from the last DNCC election campaign in 2015, Candidates from all parties came to Korail, held public meetings with us, entered houses, talked, and begged for our vote. Our local leaders informed them in advance about our demands and they made promises that if they won, our demands would be fulfilled. Just now they needed our vote. I did not understand the party’s manifesto. I was more concerned about services or housing in Korail. Rojina, who lived in an open space in a jhupri, said that she received extra care from the local leaders and the election candidate for a few days during that time. During campaigns, local leaders created a list of vulnerable residents within Korail, and the candidate provided benefits to those on the list. Rojina said that everyday there were frequent marches, public meetings, and rallies. Local leaders urged them to join, and Rojina joined several times when she could and received money or food on the behalf of the candidate. She once joined a public meeting and received 50 taka (US$0.47) for the whole day. Korimon said that the local leaders’ wives and some female political activists went door-to-door during the campaign, encouraging female residents to attend meetings and get tea, biscuits, and 50 taka (US$0.47). She also received a new sari from them for attending the meeting. Rojina said that every political party offers something to the poor to vote for them, but they were no longer included by the politicians and local authorities when the election was over. Zamila said that she accepted gifts or money if candidates offered. However, she voted her own political preference. Some people believed that the local leaders had better knowledge and paid attention to their choices. People became disillusioned when their elected ward commissioner or mayor failed to display people-centric policies for the community. Korail leaders were locally influential, and candidates or elected members displayed concern for them due to their muscle power, political networks, patron-­ client relationships, and voting rights. Their political relationships with party leaders ensured that whenever state agencies or private developers tried to evict them, they could approach the elected officials to prevent eviction. This political network meant the entire community was willing to receive attention from a candidate. Hasib claimed: Ten years ago elected leaders did not visit the Korail, whereas now, every single candidate visits Korail several times during the election campaign. Because we are a large voting bank, we have significant influence over the outcome of the election. Zamilla claimed: “They now come to us because they need our vote. Now we have become an essential part of the city.”

People’s Power and Politics  183 The situation in BRP was different. A majority of BRP voters also voted. One of the conditions for owning a flat was to have a voter ID, so all flat owners were registered voters. However, two of nine flat owners could not vote as they were out of town. Three of nine tenants were not registered. Among the six registered tenants, only two voted. Three did not cast a ballot, and one did not have the time to vote. There are no political party committees within the BRP; therefore, local leaders engage in party politics outside the BRP compound, within Bhashantek. The lack of party politics within BRP means that voters were not pressured to vote by local leaders. Since there were no party committees in BRP, campaigning during the elections was not essential. Moreover, no one from this government housing project campaigned for the opposition party. BRP’s refusal to support the opposition party was a political strategy. The majority of the respondents from both neighborhoods voted for the AL candidate (the party already in power) in the last DNCC election. Most Korail respondents claimed that they voted for the AL party candidate to reassure the government that they supported the government party, whereas the majority of the BRP respondents said that they voted for the AL party because they lived in a government housing project. However, many BRP flat owners were involved in the internal politics of BRP, which I will discuss in the protest section. Tenants do not have the opportunity to participate in internal politics, however. In contrast, in party politics, numerous Korail tenants were actively involved from their own desire or because of the leadership of their landlords. Some tenants thought they could become house owners through active engagement in party politics. Khalil, for example, was a renter when he first arrived in Korail and used to do business with Begum’s husband Dabir. They partnered up for a fuel wood business. Once natural gas became available, fuel wood sales declined. As an aide to a local patron, Khalil built connections in local politics over time. Later, he became involved in party politics and began an illegal cooking gas supply business with the support of his political big brother. He currently owns several houses, comprising more than 35 rooms. The shift in living situations of people such as Khalil, demonstrates a link between socio-economic achievement and political participation. Following their vote, the Korail leaders solidified their position in party politics and local government. To protect themselves, they developed political strategies to improve their neighborhoods. In BRP, there was no opportunity to engage in party political activities within the housing project. Legal Battles: Lawsuits Against the Authorities

This section will discuss three lawsuits, which reveal how the residents of poor communities tried to ensure housing entitlements. People from Korail and BRP both undertook lawsuits. This section is divided into three parts. The first shows how Korail residents undertook lawsuits in the face of mass eviction. In the second, I discuss a lawsuit against the Ministry of Land (MOL) filed by the ­Bhashantek informal neighborhood because their housing was demolished for

184  People’s Power and Politics BRP. The outcomes of these two cases were quite different. While Korail ­residents filed to stop ­ongoing and upcoming mass evictions, the Bhashantek evictees filed lawsuits against a mass eviction already being implemented. Third, numerous BRP residents, who currently live in BRP flats or nearby areas, filed cases against NSPDL, because they did not receive flats after paying deposits. The Lawsuit in Korail A few local leaders in Korail expanded the neighborhood by occupying part of the Gulshan and Banani Lakes through the political network with AL party big brothers and leaders. Their main purpose was to build new houses they could rent out. In January 2012, a news report claimed that part of Gulshan Lake had been encroached. The High Court, therefore, issued rule no. 8/2012, directing two state agencies (Bangladesh Telecommunication Limited and the Ministry of Public Works) to clear all illegal structures around the lake. Respondents said that on 3 April 2012 they received notice that the illegal structures approximately 20 feet on both sides of the road beside the lake would be reclaimed. However, because Korail leaders had previously secured a stay order from the High Court on a separate eviction matter in 2008, this new eviction order was carried out in defiance of the High Court’s previous judgment. On 4 April 2012, a forced eviction drive occurred in Korail while a writ against the eviction was pending. In response to a request by several Korail residents for legal assistance, two local NGO legal aid and human rights organizations, Ain-O-Salish Kendro (ASK) and Bangladesh Legal Aid and Services Trust (BLAST), filed petition no. 3814/2012 in the High Court on 15 April. Eleven petitioners, including BRAC, Coalition for the Urban Poor, DSK, Nijera Kori, and five residents of Korail, approached the court with a petition that challenged the threat of mass eviction. The petitioners argued that the demolition of the informal neighborhood was a violation of the right to a home under the laws of the Constitution of Bangladesh as guaranteed by Articles 31 and 32. Moreover, the Bangladeshi government had signed the International Convention on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights; therefore, the state was required to ensure the right to shelter. The lawyers argued that the government was obliged to follow this treaty. One of the five persons participating in the petition, a local leader, Maidul, said: They started from the road but moved closer to our houses. Everybody lost everything, stock, furniture, household belongings, everything because we did not get the time to move them. We tried to negotiate with the magistrate in charge, but the riot police drove us back. Then we started to talk to each other. On the one hand, we took to the streets to organize protests; however, we had a meeting with several influential house owners and legal aid NGOs on how to fight the legal battle. As BLAST and ASK had provided legal aid before, in 2008, we approached them to file a petition again so that we could get a stay order. By this time, we had learned from the newspaper that there was a court order in January to clear the banks of Gulshan Lake. But

People’s Power and Politics  185 this order was only valid until someone could appeal to the court for a stay order. As a result, the Korail residents got a stay order from the High Court stipulating that state agencies did not have the right to evict until the state has arranged city relocation for residents. The court also ruled that forced eviction without prior consultation or resettlement plans would be considered illegal. Korail local leaders’ strategy included two major actions. First, they allied with several NGOs to file lawsuits. Second, they sought to convince the court that they had the legal right to remain in the city. Most respondents were unclear about the legal and constitutional issues involved in housing policies. However, they were all aware of their right to gain relocation before eviction. Korail residents approached this legal encounter with the support of the two NGOs. The legal assistance argued that the constitution of Bangladesh considers housing to be a basic necessity and one of the fundamental principles of state policy. Third, the current prime minister promised that if her party gained power, her government would not evict Korail residents until their relocation could be arranged elsewhere in the city. Fourth, Bangladesh subscribed to international conventions including SDG and MDG that the government should follow. The Lawsuit in Bhashantek Bhashantek evictees also filed a lawsuit to stop the mass eviction. Although the Bhashantek neighborhood is not my subject of study, the goal of this chapter is to understand the diverse political actions of poor communities. Moreover, many people in BRP had lived in this older neighborhood. In 1998, when the government announced the construction of BRP for the poor landless, Bhashantek residents realized that the state would demolish their neighborhood. In 2003, the MOL did evict a part of the Bhashantek neighborhood to build BRP. On behalf of all the displaced households of Bhashantek, BLAST and ASK worked with evictees to file a writ to ensure their prior relocation. This public interest lawsuit was notable because, although many house owners were displaced, they could not take any steps to prove their housing rights. Therefore, after BLAST’s lawsuit, more than 127 families who had lived in Bhashantek for many years filed petitions, challenging the threat of forced eviction. They claimed that without resettlement, the forced eviction of Bhashantek constituted a violation of the right to housing. The High Court initially issued a rule against the MOL. It also asked the MOL to explain why eviction without relocation should not be declared invalid since it violated the Bhashantek residents’ constitutional right to housing. In 2004, however, the MOL nevertheless evacuated a part of Bhashantek without complying with the court order, using a large police force. At that time, the media reported that the eviction of Bhashantek was illegal and unjust, given the High Court ruling that informal neighborhoods could not be evicted without rehabilitation (Daily Songram 2019). Though the case is presently pending a hearing, the NSPDL with the support of MOL commenced construction of the BRP on this vacant land by

186  People’s Power and Politics colluding with local goons in Bhashantek. The local leaders also convinced the ordinary house owners of Bhashantek that every owner who was capable of purchasing a flat would get one. Lawsuits in BRP Following the project’s construction, many house owners in the old neighborhood discovered that they did not receive an allotment in the BRP even if they had made deposits. Several of them filed lawsuits against NSPDL, which had collected the money and was in control of flat allocation. The NSPDL chief had accepted the applications, security, and installment money, and put it in the NSPDL’s office account instead of the state bank. The MOL found that the NSPDL broke the law. On the other hand, some of those who paid deposits but did not receive flats discovered that their names were not even registered among depositors. Overall, approximately 1,207 people who paid deposits were not allocated flats. Therefore, many of them filed cases against the NSPDL chief. Respondents believed that MOL bureaucrats had colluded with NSPDL as well. The Land Ministry was compelled to cancel the construction contract in the face of pressure when the defendants who had paid the NSPDL chief deposit money sued the NSPDL. The NSPDL chief fled abroad after these allegations of corruption. The Land Ministry then undertook an investigation to evaluate the project, discovering problems such as extreme indifference and the absence of the MOL during project construction and allotment. Hence, the NSPDL chief prevented the poor from receiving their flats. Many urban experts, media, and the investigation committee deemed it a failed housing project since the government intended the project to address the housing problem of urban poor (Daily Songram 2019). Still, various errors in execution resulted in the failure to provide homes to this population. This effort did not alleviate the poor’s housing problems, but it complicated them. For example, vacating a part of the Bhashantek neighborhood by destroying houses without planning for relocation has thrown homes, employment, companies, and children’s schools into disarray. Many folks later had financial difficulties as a result of paying deposits for the property. Furthermore, for those who did receive flats, the cost of an apartment was far more than people’s income, and many people could not envision owning an apartment here. Researchers and urban specialists have stated that the government has failed miserably in its efforts to rehabilitate Bhashantek’s impoverished population (Dhaka Tribune 2017). Once the NSPDL had gone, people who deposited money but did not get flats blamed the Land Ministry for their deprivation. Subsequently, the Land Ministry constructed another eight buildings with the advance deposits of clients. According to the BRP chief, most who had deposited money were able to purchase flats following the completion of the new buildings of this project. However, several respondents said that some people never were allocated flats even after paying money and they live as renters in BRP. Neither the chief nor the respondents could accurately estimate how many people have yet to get their units. This was because

People’s Power and Politics  187 many purchased flats and then resold them, while others asked to have their ­deposits refunded since they could not afford to purchase flats. I interviewed three people who moved to other parts of Bhashantek. They said that many people who provided money were continuing their lawsuits so that they could either get their deposits back or receive a flat. They said they would not leave the BRP alone until they got their flats. A high-level bureaucrat said that the Land Ministry needed to construct more buildings in BRP compound because of this pressure. In his words, “As they already submitted the deposit for a flat, I don’t think they will leave it until they get a flat. The ministry should take the responsibility.” He said, “There were other cases against eviction before BRP was created, and the Land Ministry needs to relocate those evictees who filed cases. If not, the ministry will face legal complications in the future.” The people from Bhashantek filed cases with the support of NGOs, and they also took direct action against the NSPDL by filing individual court cases. Monsur, who sued the NSPDL, said, The state is supposed to ensure basic needs for us: housing, food, health, and education. But it cannot provide them. We accept that, and in the absence of state services, we manage our livelihoods. The state has crippled us by evicting us, but this cannot be the behavior of the state. Still, we accept it. When we became homeless, we deposited our all savings in the NSPDL at the call of the government, even when they did not deliver. We had no choice but to sue. We paid money to the NSPDL as we didn’t know who was private and who was a government agency, because they developed the project together. Many respondents, like Monsur, said they filed their lawsuits because they had been deceived. From Monsur’s interview, it was clear that he would feel more included if he got these basic services from the city. The government is committed to international agreements to provide housing to all citizens; however, instead of doing so, the MOL evicted and broke its promises to allocate flats to the evictees. Therefore, evictees have stood up for their allotment rights in court. Although they may be poor, they have the power to seek rectification from authorities. Residents of both areas considered legal action a measure of inclusion because they battled legally to lessen exclusion. Residents in both communities were citizens with the ability to file court proceedings. Residents of disadvantaged communities had the opportunity to go to the court and sue for housing if they face eviction. In terms of the outcomes, neither was entirely successful. Korail appears to have carried out more successful litigation than Bhashantek and BRP. Korail residents have received a stay order from the High Court, whereas the lawsuits filed by Bhashantek and BRP residents are still pending. Moreover, Korail respondents said that after the stay order, they never experienced such a large eviction; however, around hundred families were evicted from the lake area in 2022 to prevent lake encroachment. On the other hand, the MOL and NSPDL constructed the BRP project by ignoring the High Court’s ruling. Even if the High Court treats the poor equally when it comes to filing lawsuits, state agencies do not always do so.

188  People’s Power and Politics The national Information and Communication Technology (ICT) Division p­ roposed to build the Mohakhali ICT Village high-tech park near Korail as part of the Private Sector Development Support Project in 2014. The High Court, however, asked the ICT Division to take adequate steps for the relocation of the Korail inhabitants in response to a writ suit filed in 2012 with the cooperation of two NGOs. Following that, in 2014, the ICT Hi-tech Park Authority provided six proposals for the resettlement of Korail residents. Various NGOs have made a number of counter-proposals. They urged that the government include the poorest households and take into account their sources of income and transportation expenses when deciding where to build housing. They also underlined that low-cost housing allocation must be transparent and based only on need. The government could not legally proceed with the IT park plan if the NGOs’ suggestions were ignored. Community Participation

Active community participation is another measure of inclusion. I considered how participation in formal community projects allows people to become political actors or gain the skills to do so. Community participation was extensive in Korail. Previous chapters showed the importance of NGOs. Respondents also reported that some NGOs’ projects worked with women to improve leadership skills. A community participation project paved and widened numerous roads. With the support of the DMP, the community transformed a building used by drug addicts into a mosque and daycare center Korail residents have made some changes to their lives through active participation in community projects. Many consider these organizations to be supportive due to their socio-political engagement. CBOs created for community participation projects were considered solid platforms for residents to negotiate with local government officials, national leaders, NGOs, and other external political actors. For example, in the event of a fire, disaster, or other needs for relief, these organizations could determine need and distribute aid. CBOs also negotiated with NGOs or the DNCC for benefits. This active participation allowed people to become political actors, which allowed them to increase their inclusion. Although the Korail residents have made many changes to their way of life through community participation, they were not always successful in countering the top-down approaches of more formal powerful actors. Two CBO leaders said that more powerful actors overpowered them during participatory initiatives. At project meetings, they noticed that their opinions were sought but not always accepted. For example, in the case of the waste management project, Korail residents wanted the participation of DNCC or NGOs on a larger scale, but the external political actors ended their responsibility once 100 vans were delivered. There was a lack of external monitoring of their use. Owing to increased community support for internal political actors, residents could bargain to safeguard their community’s interests. They talked with numerous NGOs, local government officials, and elected officials on ways to address Korail’s critical situation after fires. They also discussed with DESCO possibilities to obtain legal electricity under the supervision of an NGO. Korail’s internal political actors

People’s Power and Politics  189 achieved political skills through their active engagement in these community initiatives, and they used them to raise their voices in public meetings, conferences, and decision-making. The presence of NGOs in Korail and their socio-economic engagement increased the number of political actors and the opportunities for residents to work in community projects through collaboration with state agencies and NGOs. In contrast, there were no such opportunities in the BRP because there were neither NGOs nor community projects. As a result, Korail residents were more involved in decisionmaking with external political actors due to community programs than BRP inhabitants. Now, I will discuss how the respondents organized themselves collectively to protest eviction and other exclusionary behavior and how their socio-political networks supported them. Collective Action and Protests

On April 4, 2012, the High Court approved the eviction of a Korail road from the Gulshan lakeside. A bulldozer entered Korail through the lakeside road and began to demolish illegal structures, leaving more than 2,000 people homeless. The residents took to the streets in protest to disrupt the mass eviction. The Dhaka Divisional Executive Magistrate, who carried out the eviction, entered the area with a bulldozer and explained he had only come to demolish the illegal structures within 20 feet of Gulshan Lake. The residents realized that the eviction could not be stopped. Therefore, community leaders and house owners called a meeting and instigated various actions, including road barricades, human chains, writing posters, etc. Some people worked to ensure their safety from the bulldozers while others moved their belongings out of their homes. The residents whose homes were not in danger began a peaceful protest on heavily frequented roads. They blocked the road and held a public meeting to announce that they would not leave the busiest road until the government ceased the eviction. One of the leaders said, If you rich people want to go by car, you have to drive on our chests because if the state can’t give us a piece of land to survive, we have no choice but to die. So, you can go by driving on our blood. As the protesters watched the bulldozers move in the next day, they intensified their movement. They planned to occupy the airport road on 5 April 2012, to protest. They presented demands to the government; for example, the eviction must stop (Figure 6.8). They should not be evicted without relocation because the prime minister had promised that during the election campaign. The Korail community leaders declared the previous night that no one should go to work. All tenants were requested to join the movement. Korimon said, This is the place where we belong, and the surrounding areas provide our livelihoods. For example, many garment workers are employed at the textile industries located nearby, or as maids in the upper-class residential areas,

190  People’s Power and Politics such as Gulshan, Banani, and Mohakhali. If the government perceives us as a burden, then who would do these jobs? The city’s economy would be in a standstill, which is exactly what we demonstrated to the state on 5 April. When our leaders forbade us from going to work, all of us left home to participate in the human chain and lie down on the road, which paralyzed the city. If Korail collapsed, it would be difficult for the tenants to locate new homes. Both the house owners and the tenants took an oath to fight as one because the children’s school and their workplaces could not be relocated in a single day. Many individuals worked in stores around Korail’s bazaars. Many garment factories, houses, and workplaces came to a halt after the statement that no one from Korail should work. During the protest, they repeatedly chanted: “Where will we go if the Korail is evicted?” The slogans asked the government: if they possessed the right to vote, why did the state evict them? (Figure 6.7) Meanwhile, the local leaders communicated with the central party leaders. They invoked the period a few months earlier. In November 2011, the mayor resigned when the national government passed a bill to split the Dhaka City Corporation into DNCC and DSCC. Therefore, the DNCC office of the mayor was vacant. Respondents said that if there had been an elected mayor, they would not have been evicted. Nor did they have other elected representatives they could approach to demand housing rights.

Figure 6.7 Writing Posters During Protest in Korail: “Eviction Must Not Occur without Rehabilitation” Source: Fieldwork

People’s Power and Politics  191 The Korail community leaders were able to get their demands met through a one-day movement, however. On 5 April, they continued the protest, which prevented vehicles from entering or exiting. This was arguably the most important road in the city, as it was the entry point for all international traffic. It was also close to Korail. A significant number of passengers were stranded. Korail residents demonstrated their displeasure by lying down to protest on the airport road at one point. Due to traffic jams, the roads were blocked; elites were pressuring the DMP to solve the problem. More than a hundred police arrived to forcibly disperse the crowd. They failed to quell the demonstration, and then the police chief came and requested them to go home. The protesters claimed they would not be satisfied until the home minister negotiated their terms. The police chief telephoned the then home minister on the spot. The DMP commissioner promised to cease the eviction and requested that people go back to Korail. The protesters were satisfied with the offer and dissolved the protest that evening. Majid, a local leader, said that since then, Korail never experienced such a large eviction like this one. After that, sometimes the state evicted few houses from the lake area to prevent the lake encroachment, but they immediately raised their flag, blocked main roads, showed protests, and started movement against the eviction without resettlement. For example, in September 2022, when about a hundred houses were evicted, during office hours (at 9.00 a.m.), the evicted people showed their discontent through protest by blocking the main street and creating severe traffic in the entire city. The Korail protesters defended each meter of the land they occupied. Their collective protest sent a strong message to the government, showing that Korail residents could shut down the city. Korail community leaders had established themselves as active citizens by providing services in elite areas and political networks through the voting bank. They had also expanded their socio-political networks with NGOs and civil society. Along with the collective protest, these external networks played an important role in helping them to win against the mass eviction. Because many Korail inhabitants had been in the city for a long time and were connected to a variety of socio-economic and political networks, they used them during the protest. These political networks established them as active citizens and they could claim to gain inclusiveness. The NGOs and civil society members who supported them had to act swiftly during the protest. It was a spontaneous collective political action and over in approximately 48 hours. On the same day that the Korail inhabitants protested, an NGO network held a press conference to express their support for the Korail inhabitants. Some NGO personnel assisted respondents in creating posters, according to respondents. Supporters acted out of both self-interest and compassion for human rights. Residents of Korail requested that the state be held accountable. According to respondents, many NGOs, civil society activists, journalists, and university students joined the demonstration, since many of the demonstrators from Korail were university workers, including doormen, cleaners, security guards, and drivers. During the media coverage of the Korail protest, civil society members pressured the local authorities to fix the matter. In the media, members

192  People’s Power and Politics of civil society and urban specialists emphasized the relevance of services provided by Korail r­ esidents­. Respondents said industries and garment factories became paralyzed because people did not go to work. One of the respondents, Raima Alim, an industrialist who lived in Gulshan, said, The government should not move the Korail residents out without first making alternative arrangements for them. If the Korail residents move from here, it would make the rest of the lives in this city miserable. We can’t think of our life without their services. She also revealed that the absence of domestic helpers and drivers that day made it difficult for many of the women of the Gulshan-Banani areas to get to work. They also faced difficulties sending the children to school on that day due to the absence of drivers and maids. Many of the upper class understood that without these helping hands, the city would become ineffective.

Figure 6.8  Korail’s Six Demands Source: Fieldwork

People’s Power and Politics  193 Getting support from external actors such as NGOs and civil society was h­ elpful to Korail residents during the protest. Though they believed that external actors were supporting them in their own interest and privilege, the Korail residents used specific aspects to stress their right to political inclusion. For example, Hasib said, Yes, many NGOs, and civil society members were with us, but they were with us for their own interests. We have heard that they held a press conference and submitted the demand for justice to the city authorities. But the NGOs did this from their own business purposes as they have invested a lot of money in various projects, including micro-finance. It would be very difficult for them to get back the loan money if we were evicted. Begum, a household helper, said, “The aristocrats of Dhaka cooped up in ­Gulshan-Banani who depend on the Korail people for their domestic chores were compelled to be supportive. If we cannot live here, who will serve them?” Begum spoke of the protest slogans that she can still remember, such as “who will clean your house without us? Who will cook for you? Who will drive your car? Now tell us state, who will run the city?” This slogan emphasized the importance of the work undertaken by Korail residents. Work was disrupted in public and private offices, business centers, factories, retail malls, restaurants, and educational institutions, where Korail residents worked as cleaners, chefs, maids, drivers, and office assistants. The fact that Korail residents established themselves as essential for city services assisted them in gaining political inclusion. The situation was asymmetrical and complex. People still were excluded, even though the residents received support from elected leaders, as long as the city had not adopted a housing inclusion policy that would protect them. At the same time, via their political networks, Korail residents held elected authorities and other external political actors accountable for the inaccessibility of housing. They also enlisted the help of NGOs and civil society activists, and residents in affluent neighborhoods to achieve political acceptance. Although not highly remunerated, they were integrated into the city’s economic life through their jobs and services, and the partnerships they formed with external powerful actors. Korail residents utilized their economic networks and political alliances to seek inclusion in the city. The second example discusses how Korail residents protested against an NGO for the death of a pregnant mother, even though maintaining a relationship with NGOs was one of their primary political strategies for inclusion. In this case, residents besieged the NGO office after learning that a pregnant mother in Korail had died while seeking services at a maternity project. NGOs maintained a good rapport with the local leaders to gain credibility in Korail. In case of an emergency, the NGOs negotiated with local leaders as that NGO office had done. The settlers, too, received advice from local leaders before the police came. Nowadays, there is an awareness of sanitation, cleanliness, and the effectiveness of the health services due to NGO awareness programs. When the woman was taken to that hospital, it was already late, and the mother died due to prior health complications; however, her family members and locals spontaneously organized a collective march to the

194  People’s Power and Politics NGO office followed by hundreds of people as soon as news of the death reached at Korail. Later, local leaders came to the center and solved the problem between NGO officials and the locals. They explained that she had some prior health complications and such an accident could have happened even in hospital due to her critical condition. The testimonials of several respondents allowed me to understand how local leaders were significant political actors during the eviction protest; however, at the same time, they served as intermediaries during the health-care demonstration. They had a crucial role in organizing the eviction demonstration. Still, they addressed difficulties in the health-care demonstration through a calm dialogue between an NGO and local people. That eviction campaign disturbed their everyday lives and attempted to force them to leave the city. The eviction protest had more long-term consequences than the health-care protest. However, residents were able to get long-term reform due to both protests; there has been no large mass eviction since this protest. The eviction protest enhanced the standing of the Korail people and their struggle for citizenship. Their status within Korail has grown due to their leadership skills and community-protection strategies. However, some leaders were criticized for their role in the health-care protest, since people believed that local leaders sided with NGOs and downplayed the community protest. These examples demonstrate that Korail residents have the power to negotiate with more powerful actors. The people of Korail have consciously developed a collective community against the state’s unfavorable regulations. Similarly, they have begun to establish a sense of collective identity against the NGOs as well. The BRP interviewees were involved in two entirely different protests. First, I discuss how the Bhashantek evictees protested mass eviction and disrupted BRP construction. Some received flats after this protest, and others hoped that they would get housing in the third phase of the project. Then, I address the organized collective protest of the BRP flat owners against the present BRP management. In the face of Bhashantek demonstration and legal action, the Land Ministry and NSPDL Company evicted a part of Bhashantek neighborhood. However, after the eviction, the Bhashantek evictees organized a protest against the NSPDL. When the first flats were distributed, numerous evictees were angry that they did not receive them. These deprived applicants often approached the NSPDL office and threatened the personnel, as they had already paid a deposit for housing. They allied with each other and threatened to attack the NSPDL office and occupy the BRP flats. They hampered construction work in various ways. The NSPDL chief tightened security and requested the police station next door to provide extra security. A security check post with a fence was established to create a border between the old settlement and the new BRP project. Kashim, a BRP tenant, said that the NSPDL was initially frightened that the excluded evictees would take over the BRP flats. Security guards were hired to prevent the evictees from entering. A few months before the BRP launch, the evictees gathered and attacked the project gate. They broke through and fought with security guards in an attempt to take possession of the flats. But the Bhashantek police station building was in the BRP compound. Whenever the evictees attempted to attack the NSPDL office,

People’s Power and Politics  195 the police repelled and dispersed the protesters. However, the evictees were used to police persecution. According to Dulal, a BRP tenant, formerly of ­Bhashantek, “No matter how many police and security guards were provided, the NSPDL had a hard time dealing with protesters physically and mentally. The protesters still had to fight on the legal battlefield.” He said that they ousted the NSPDL from BRP by organizing a protest because the Land Ministry eventually cancelled the contract with NSPDL. Dulal also said that many who paid deposits but did not receive flats received them after these political actions against the NSPDL. However, many poor families sold the flats due to the high prices. When the BRP residents gradually began to understand that there was corruption in the management of BRP, they organized a protest. In 2009, during NSPDL management, the flat owners formed an owners’ association. According to the deed, the owners’ association would take over the management of BRP after the completion of all 111 buildings. Because the work on the project has not been completed, the BRP office remains in charge of the management. The new BRP administration held two board meetings with the flat owners’ association after taking office in 2010. Later in 2011, the BRP chief suspended meetings. He cited as justification that the members could not agree on any issues, that certain members were purposefully complicating the decision-making process, etc. Then the project office abruptly ceased the quarterly meetings, and many owners began to feel excluded. Some respondents said that the management continued to supervise the project, even though almost all existing flats had been sold. Complaints focused on the details of unallocated money, the money taken from residents every month, how many bank accounts there were, and financial statements. According to the regulations, the flat owners’ association should be aware of expenses. Flat owners said that all BRP expenses were supposed to be decided democratically; however, the BRP office did not allow the association at the decision-making table. Therefore, the bureaucratic management had more authority than the elected association. The respondents reported that the project office collected a significant amount of money from the flat residents for utility bills. Their suspicion was that the BRP chief neither deposited their money in the government treasury nor used it to develop BRP. The flat owners entered the project office in June 2013, demanding to know where and how the office deposited the money. The project office did not show them the accounts. The BRP flat owners’ association protested openly, starting a conversation with utility service providers during a meeting. As a part of the protest, in February 2014, they submitted a memorandum of corruption and embezzlement to the Land Ministry. They also listed the areas of corruption on posters that targeted the project chief and his men (Figure 6.9). One of the protesters said, After putting the posters on the walls, management hired thugs from the Mullah Bahini to beat us. All posters were torn down. When the project staff removed these posters, we printed them again and put them up. It is like living in water and fighting with crocodiles. They threatened to kill us.

196  People’s Power and Politics

Figure 6.9  A Poster against the BRP Management Source: Fieldwork

People’s Power and Politics  197 Some respondents claimed they were receiving eviction threats, but they refused to back down from their ongoing protest. However, not all flat owners were involved in the protest. Several flat owners keen to take advantage of the bureaucratic system established an alliance with some members of the flat owners’ association. During the eviction, those local leaders were part of the NSPDL conspiracy. Some became influential flat owners supporting corruption in the BRP office, hoping for their gain. A protester said that the BRP chief and a few influential flat owners conspired to exclude those who spoke out and held the management accountable. The project chief said in his interview, “If you go to their flats, you will find furniture, televisions, refrigerators, mobile phones, etc. However, they are reluctant to pay their utilities and other service charges.” He also cited the considerable costs involved in running such a large project, including security, payment of staff, cleaning, running water meters and the electricity sub-meter, utility staff, and maintenance. However, he said, owners were not interested in knowing about this. Regarding the closure of the association’s board meeting, he said they had created trouble among themselves and could not come to decisions when they had meetings. To deal with the problem, he had to cease meetings. According to the chief, he stopped the board meeting because a few owners were ruining the environment. Nevertheless, he prevented the practice of internal democracy by utilizing his bureaucratic position. The BRP residents had been protesting since early 2014. They began by filing a written complaint to the Land Ministry. The ministry did not acknowledge it for the first two years, however. Later, in May 2016, when protesters began threatening to sue, the ministry was compelled to form an investigative committee. The committee focused on a few issues, such as investigating monthly income and expenditure accounts from July 2013 to 2016. The investigation report found that the association of the flat owners had not been active since 2011, as there had been no regular board meetings. Also, the BRP office showed that they had paid to repair the power line every month; however, an investigation revealed that it was the responsibility of DESCO, not the BRP office, to pay for the repair. They also found some problems with bank accounts. For example, the office did not manage the money through the state bank account. The investigation report also revealed that the unfinished construction was not approaching completion, thereby delaying the successful completion of the project. From July 2013 to March 2016, a total of 13,670,179 taka (US$127,962) was collected from the utility charges of BRP residents (S. Ahmed 2016). In short, the inquiry found the veracity of some allegations made by the defendants, and the report was submitted to the Land Ministry. In BRP, the powerful actors are the Land Ministry, the NSPDL, the BRP office, and influential flat owners who supported the management, and the protesters of the flat owners’ association. Raising a voice against project management while living in a state project was challenging; however, achieving results even when the activities were recognized was more challenging. However, protesters did not hesitate to take political action against NSPDL or the BRP office management.

198  People’s Power and Politics There are some distinctions between protests in the two communities. Although the BRP respondents had limited political activities and opportunities to protest compared to the Korail respondents, both groups of respondents organized against powerful actors, including state agencies, private developers, and NGOs. The people of Korail were ultimately more successful in using political action to increase inclusiveness. Despite the fact that Bhashantek residents expelled NSPDL and compelled the Land Ministry to handle the project directly, they could not successfully reoccupy their land. Not all evictees got flats after construction. In contrast, the Korail protest enabled individuals, particularly local patrons, become more effective than they had been previously. Protests and legal aid efforts aided ordinary Korail residents to become more active. Residents increased the reach of their political, economic, and social networks, preventing eviction and laying the groundwork for the state to relocate them before destruction. As soon as the ICT Division planned to create an IT park in Korail, numerous options from NGOs, including relocation, were presented to the government. BRP protesters demonstrated that the project management embezzled their funds and were able to persuade the Land Ministry to look into it. Even though the charges were proven to be true, the BRP office is still in control of administration. It is clear from the above discussion that Korail residents were more politically involved than BRP residents, as their informal housing status encouraged them to remain politically involved to gain urban citizenship. They formed alliances with political leaders and other important political actors through a variety of strategies, including party politics, voting, and patron-client networks. On the other hand, BRP flat owners had tenure security due to living in formal housing. Therefore, they did not need to engage in party politics as a survival strategy. Moreover, unlike Korail leaders, the BRP residents did not have the opportunity to conduct political organizational activities due to bureaucratic restrictions. In each neighborhood, political action worked as a strategy for inclusiveness. Diverse political actions, such as party politics, voting, lawsuits, community projects, and collective protests, all were enactments of citizenship that helped residents to gain citizenship-based rights. People use such political actions as strategies to claim urban citizenship, to decrease exclusion and increase inclusion. Conclusion The primary goal of this chapter was to show the multiple forms of power that people employ and the political actions they undertake to gain citizenship. The chapter also looked at relationships with powerful actors and their extent, political actions in which they collaborated, and how these efforts worked to increase citizenship. The respondents of both neighborhoods employed different means of political action to reduce obstacles and increase inclusion. Political participation refers to the multiple forms of power people use to build relations with more powerful actors and to act by themselves or with others to increase inclusion. Korail house owners engaged in party politics to gain inclusion. In contrast, BRP flat owners engaged in internal politics to gain control over project management. BRP residents were

People’s Power and Politics  199 less involved in party politics due to living in a state-produced ­housing. Some ­respondents became clients of the BRP chief; others employed collective protests against the management. Korail residents gained access to utilities and services through political networks, activities, election campaigns, votes, and patronage. They received support from external political leaders against mass eviction, which helped them establish citizenship-based rights and stop the eviction. Political activities supported clientelistic politics that provides favors, such as jobs, housing, services, cash, and food in exchange for votes (Auyero 2001; Berenschot 2018). Yet, as Korail residents fulfilled the demands of political leaders to campaign and voted during elections, they gained material benefits and became parts of patronage networks, which helped them secure urban citizenship. The BRP respondents possessed less power to manage themselves directly than the Korail respondents, even though BRP had legal housing and utilities. The dissolution of the BRP flat owners association constituted exclusion. The BRP management systematically ignored and sometimes actively silenced those owners who spoke. Tenants could not lodge complaints because of their irregular status; this has weakened their ability to hold their owners to account. In contrast, many Korail house owners and tenants both are independent and vocal, and there is accountability toward each other. Many scholars (Cernea 1985; Hirschman 1970; Ostrom 1990) have argued that collective actions build people’s capabilities to work for their interests and improve their well-being. Others have shown that community participation has the potential to empower the people who live in informal settlements (McLeod 2011; Narayan 2002; Stein 2008). Partnerships between the urban poor and state actors in upgrading programs can gradually reconfigure urban citizenship and the rights of the urban poor to the city (McLeod 2011). Similarly, Korail residents had a platform to raise their voices against injustice through their engagement with NGOs, CBOs, local leadership, political committees, clubs, and other organizations absent in BRP. Sometimes, through the NGO networks, the residents lobbied for favorable regulations, for example, to get water or file lawsuits. In addition, political mobilization compelled DWASA to supply water to informal neighborhoods like Korail in Dhaka. Some respondents ran their businesses by maintaining patron-client relations with political leaders, government officials, police, and NGOs. The relationship between NGOs and Korail residents had developed over a long time, since the two sides shared mutual interests. The NGOs were interested in running programs in education, health, micro-credit. At the same time, Korail residents wanted to gain the benefits of these programs and inclusion through NGO connections. For Korail leaders to get and keep power, they had to maintain patron-client relationships with and accept the dominance of powerful actors outside the community. For example, respondents said that local government officials and NGOs decided who would be involved in a project. According to Helal, “To gain compliments, votes, and monetary profit, local government officials always intervened in development projects, and we had to accept their intervention and maintain patronage to get future development projects.” Sometimes the local leaders

200  People’s Power and Politics were unenthusiastic about the intervention of the local government bureaucrats. Although not all ­interventions were equally appreciated, local leaders embraced outside interference as a requirement to increase inclusion and citizenship. In BRP, many tenants were still waiting for apartments; therefore, they maintained clientelism with the BRP office in the hopes of being included in the future. While Korail had multiple powerful actors, everyone in BRP pointed to the BRP office as a powerful actor whose administrative control they had to accept. In BRP, many flat owners struggled to organize protests the management; however, due to the dominance of these powerful political actors, ordinary flat owners have little importance, and tenants have no voice. On the other hand, although influential house owners ran the Korail protest, ordinary house owners also played an important role. Most Korail tenants were also involved. This chapter showed how national leaders’ activities, interests, and involvement were different in the two neighborhoods and had varying consequences for the inclusion of their residents. Political parties valued the residents of Korail more than BRP because it had a large voting bank, party workers, utility businesses, and local leaders’ political support. Korail’s local authorities in particular have become more included due to their active involvement with powerful actors; for them, this is a deliberate strategy of political inclusion.

Toward a Conclusion

The broadest lesson that I would like my readers to take away from my study is that they need to rethink many of the familiar oppositions which are used in studies of cities, housing and poverty. These include: inclusion versus exclusion, formal versus informal, legal versus illegal, organized versus disorganized. Each of these oppositions needs to be deconstructed, since they may not be two sides of the same coin. Each side has its own meaning, logic and context. Moreover, each of these pairs can change the political significance of the others, and so they must be read as a dynamic and interactive set. Thus, illegal housing can affect the power to organize, exclusion might facilitate dis-organization and eviction may stimulate mobilization. Even more significantly, in both the Dhaka neighborhoods which I studied, there is a remarkable amount of internal heterogeneity. This fact is often obscured by the use of homogenizing categories like “slum”, “poor”, “powerless”, etc. Poor populations in many big cities are highly differentiated, and thus their relationships to the state, to NGO’s, and to each other are not uniform or simple. Most generally, the path to empowering the urban poor will have to build on these many different profiles of struggle, rather than by simplifying them through simple conceptual or political formulae. In this sense, Dhaka is an example of the worldwide growth of large, unequal, and poorly governed cities. Inclusion and Diversity Despite living in a single neighborhood, residents varied in their level of inclusion due to income, gender, age, class, religion, and socio-political position. Though many Korail residents managed to get relatively stable housing and utilities, some of the poorest did not have access, due to lack of affordability. Most female respondents in both neighborhoods faced obstacles to housing inclusion due to their gender identity. In both areas, tenants were also more vulnerable than house owners as they did not have formal contracts. Thus, owners could evict them without prior notice. At the same time, affluent tenants were less vulnerable due to their economic and socio-political status. In general, the more a person could access socio-economic and political life, the more secure their inclusion. Moreover, the DOI: 10.4324/9781003414315-8

202  Toward a Conclusion more people could expand their socio-political relations and networks with authorities, the more they could ensure access to inclusion, especially in housing. Housing Inclusion

This complicated look at the city inspired me to understand that inclusion, like the city, was quite multi-faceted. For example, in Korail, house owners had more access to microcredit or any other services from the NGO network compared to tenants. Indeed, NGOs in Korail deliberately excluded tenants from their target population in many ways. Municipal officials and NGOs decided which community members would be involved in Korail’s community development projects. For example, many Korail house owners developed their housing infrastructure through the NGO networks; however, many poor tenants were excluded due to the increase in house rent. On the other hand, the BRP project itself became exclusionary, although the purpose of this intervention was to make Dhaka more inclusive by providing housing for the urban poor. Data indicated that BRP was to be an example for an alternative living arrangement for poor people, as poor neighborhood residents could not afford flats in BRP due to financial crisis. In the context of this housing development policy, the activities of the Land Ministry caused a rise in land prices throughout the city causing the concentration of property in a few hands and obliging tenants to pay high rents. Only an insignificant number (218 out of 3,330 evicted families) of people received allotments for apartments; among them, most people could not buy flats because they could not afford the monthly installments. Some lost their deposits; others bought the flats but had to sell them when they could not pay. Some of those who paid deposits but did not get flats spent a lot of money in litigation year after year, which made them even poorer and more vulnerable. The simple distinction between legal and illegal cannot predict complex outcomes. Even though Korail house owners suffered more evictions than BRP flat owners, Korail owners enjoyed more benefits of ownership. They could rent rooms, extend their housing, and build independent socio-political networks to protect investments. In contrast, BRP owners did not have the opportunity to expand the tiny one-room flats allotted by the government. BRP renters were also less secure than both house owners and renters in Korail. The lack of renters’ documents ensures that renters in both communities have little tenure security. Due to government prohibitions against tenancy; however, BRP tenants had to keep their identities secret. Therefore, they were more vulnerable in case of disputes. Inclusion in Essential Utilities

BRP residents had formal utilities due to their residence in a legal housing project. Residents of Korail had no legal access to utilities; however, Korail residents were also able to access utilities through various processes. In the absence of formal utilities, people of informal neighborhoods could gain informal utilities through socio-political networks. Many Korail mastaans and local leaders

Toward a Conclusion  203 had utility businesses, which were made possible through political networks and bribery. However, these provided access to utilities for many residents of Korail. Both Korail owners and tenants were satisfied with informal services because they could survive in the city albeit with high-priced utilities. People considered their inclusion by using indicators such as cost and time. For example, even when DWASA water was available, many residents continued to get water from informal providers because they had offered flexible time and payment arrangements. Korail residents paid different amounts depending on the connections they had. Some of Korail’s poorest people had less access because they could not afford any of these connections. Although the interior toilet allowed the BRP residents to get in-house water and sanitation services, it likely resulted in higher rents that reduced the affordability of the BRP. People could get formal services in Korail by building and maintaining social networks. Residents of Korail had no legal access to utilities owing to a lack of legality; however, they received DWASA water through community engagement with NGOs. Korail had numerous organizations, clubs, and cooperatives, and NGOs, with whom Korail people could expand networks. The BRP respondents have little access to these organizations and networks. In BRP, the authority did not allow them to create organizations or cooperatives. Rather, the BRP office has rendered the operations of the flat owners association null and void. Community projects such as water, sanitation, and waste management helped Korail residents to gain a minimum of inclusion; however, the utilities were insufficient and unstable compared to legal sources. Korail inhabitants were dissatisfied with the low quality and unreliability of illegal utility connections, whereas there was dissatisfaction among the BRP respondents regarding the payments. Korail tenants could negotiate utility payments with the house owners or informal service providers and sometimes paid late, whereas BRP residents had to pay 10% extra if they failed to make payments within the first ten days of a month. Inclusion in Socio-economic Services

In addition to utilities, I looked at inclusion in terms of three socio-economic services: health, education, and employment. The legality of BRP’s housing and utilities did not directly result in better access to health, education, and employment. It might be predicted that BRP respondents would be more included in terms of socio-economic services than the Korail respondents. However, this was not the case. I clarify this matter with some examples. In terms of health care, the respondents reported that there were no referral systems from primary health care centers to public secondary or tertiary health facilities. Therefore, many of the respondents in both neighborhoods preferred to use alternative health services. BRP inhabitants have fewer alternatives than Korail inhabitants. Residents in Korail had diverse health care and education providers in their neighborhood, such as NGOs health care, traditional healers, and pharmacies. In contrast, BRP residents did not have close neighborhood NGO networks or community participation projects for these services.

204  Toward a Conclusion There was a private kindergarten in BRP, later developed into a primary school. A private board of members governed it with the support of BRP management. There was also a madrasa within the BRP compound. There were also private schools and madrasas in Korail. Since there is no NGO-based school in BRP, no children went there. More than 50 NGOs and private education institutions were found in Korail including pre-school, primary, high schools, and madrasas; many Korail children attending NGO schools came from significantly poorer groups. Despite the larger number of schools, including private primary and high schools, NGO schools and madrasas, Korail parents could afford less schooling for their children than BRP parents owing to economic crises, housing instability, child labor, eviction threats, and other factors. Moreover, another reason for low rate of education in Korail is that efforts to build capacity within education management in projects had been fragmented and largely ineffective. This discussion further evokes heterogeneous perspective of the role of NGOs: while one group of researchers (Foo 2018; Gupta 2021; Taufiq 2021) positively presents their contribution to increasing equity and reducing social exclusion, another group criticizes their work. Some researchers have considered NGOs as partners of the state in structural coordination policies that can be a cost-effective alternative to public service delivery (Lewis et al. 2021). In both BRP and Korail, children’s access to education compared to their parents has increased; however, NGO schools were not allowed in BRP. When it comes to employment opportunities, Korail residents have a more comprehensive range of options than BRP inhabitants, although the majority of them offer low pay. People in BRP have slightly better and remunerative employment on average than sample of Korail, but Korail residents include both much richer and much poorer folks. Despite the fact that BRP has a greater average income than Korail, residents of Korail had a wider range of income. For example, in Korail, influential house owners and local leaders had considerable incomes; others had a middle level of income, and still others, the poorest families had quite low earnings. However, Korail allowed possibilities for the very poor to survive, which did not exist in BRP. Since the BRP owners had to pay monthly installments, the house rent for the tenants was almost the same, and the utility bills had to be paid on time, economically marginalized people could not afford to live there. However, residents of both neighborhoods were struggling to gain inclusivity through wellremunerated employment. Through diverse transactions, both groups of respondents were able to achieve long-term secure relationships with the police and other powerful actors that increased economic inclusion. For example, the street vendors and rickshaw pullers regularly paid bribes to the police and local goons to occupy the street and earn a living. In summary, the concept of inclusion is complicated and diverse. This book challenges a simple-minded understanding of inclusion. Inclusion by one measure does not necessarily mean being included in others. Therefore, if people gain greater inclusion in one sector, e.g., housing, that does not mean that everything else will follow. For example, although the provision of legal property rights in BRP enabled an improved urban life, this was in regard to housing and utilities only. The

Toward a Conclusion  205 poorest families of Korail have it worse, although wealthier Korail ­residents can have better lives and be more included than the people in BRP. The majority of the Korail respondents have a higher level of flexibility in their utility payments than their counterparts in BRP. Korail residents increased social networks and continued their struggles to gain inclusion. Legal versus illegal status offered different levels of inclusion and citizenship in urban Dhaka. Legal status could make BRP respondents feel included. The lack of legal status regarding housing and utilities confirmed the insecurity of Korail residents. Despite the possession of formal utilities in BRP, the respondents still felt excluded. For example, they felt prices were high; the provision was not always regular and of good quality. They complained about the low-pressure gas for cooking. Although BRP residents have more access to housing and utilities than Korail residents, it is not a binary situation. BRP residents are still not entirely included, while Korail people have managed to get some utilities, and to some extent, housing stability for more than 50 years, even though they are not legally entitled to it. For the Korail residents, therefore, claims to material elements such as water, sanitation, waste management, electricity, and cooking gas are not only about utility inclusion but also demand for inclusive citizenship with entitlement rights, belonging, and recognition. Claims to utilities are thus both about citizenship as a form of recognition and also claims to the essential benefits that decrease their exclusion and increase inclusion in the city. DNCC arranged corona virus vaccination in the post Covid era for the Korail dwellers. They considered receiving Corona vaccination from the DNCC, along with rest of the city residents, as recognition of citizenship. To gain inclusion, residents of two neighborhoods employed different means of political participation. Many Korail house owners engaged in party politics to ensure housing inclusion and become local leaders. Korail tenants were also involved in local politics. In contrast, BRP residents were less involved in party politics. BRP flat owners engaged in internal politics to gain control over project management, whereas tenants had no voice. Some respondents became clients of the BRP chief; others employed collective protests against the management. The diverse patterns of political actions discussed in the next section explain how the neighborhoods have tried to reduce exclusion and ensure inclusion through multiple political actions, power, and strategies. Power and Politics: Political Inclusion To increase inclusion of the urban poor, we need bottom-up approaches. We need to understand people’s capability to accumulate and use power. It was clear that people in poor neighborhoods of the study used political strategies and actions to achieve inclusion and control their own lives. Some scholars have suggested that poor residents are not connected to urban political power (Levitas et al. 2007; ­Wratten 1995), but the data from this study showed they did have the power to involve themselves in the city’s social, economic, and political life. People’s active engagements in party politics, collective protest against mass eviction, participation during

206  Toward a Conclusion election campaigns, and community participation all ­established Korail ­residents as an ­integral part of the city and contributors to economy and society. Despite inhabiting an informal neighborhood, the people of Korail were able to participate in formal governance. They gained some control over their lives through negotiating with the authorities because they had access to the socio-political domains and acted as a voting bank in electoral politics. In BRP, the inclusion they gained by living in a legal neighborhood did not allow greater political participation or new forms of inclusion. Despite living in a formal state-sponsored project, where housing and utilities were available, BRP residents had to live under a dominant bureaucratic gaze that excluded some attempts to increase inclusion. Moreover, in contrast to Korail, the population of BRP was small. Therefore, BRP failed to be a significant voting bank for political parties or their electoral candidates. It was also in the interest of national leaders to maintain BRP as a viable project, but, under the circumstances, this did not work in favor of residents, especially tenants. There would always be more people who want to rent there. Due to its sizable voting bank, national political leaders were interested in protecting Korail. I focused on urban politics to understand the political complexities of inclusion. Elected leaders supported local leaders who provided votes to them. However, national leaders act in their interests, and their interests evolve in numerous ways in different areas. Keeping in mind national leaders’ political interests, Korail leaders employed political action to ensure political inclusion through party politics, voting, and political clientelism. The relationship between national leaders and community leaders was shaped and reshaped by people’s political activities and networks within Dhaka’s social, economic, and political structure. This relationship depended on their behavior toward each other in regard to the level of inclusion and exclusion. For example, when external political actors recognized Korail residents as citizens in exchange for their votes and treated the local leaders as their party workers, community members worked for political leaders and campaigned for them. As citizens, Korail residents organized protests when they faced eviction and filed lawsuits. In Korail, the main goal of protest was to save housing from state-sponsored eviction. People also wanted to pursue needs, interests, and entitlements. Residents of Korail have used their capacity to protest to pursue additional inclusion, such as to get DWASA water, new roads, children’s education, health care, and microcredit institutions, among other things. Korail residents had lived there for 50 years without legal status. This was possible due to the indirect support of the state authorities, which Korail leaders procured through involvement in party politics, especially with the government party. Therefore, when a political party came into power, they established themselves through significant voting as a bloc. Even though Korail residents were living with more exclusionary policies and obstacles of state regulations than BRP residents, Korail residents possessed multiple forms of power, strategies, and political actions to obtain inclusion through formal and informal means. Strong patron-client relationships occurred between Korail’s local leaders, house owners, CBOs, and external political actors. Due to Korail’s strong political

Toward a Conclusion  207 network among local leaders, house owners, and tenants, Korail tenants joined local leaders in anti-eviction protests. Tenants had better lives in Korail as a result of their active involvement in protest organized by local leaders. Scholars have argued that self-appointed local leaders created and maintained patron-client relationships, but that higher levels of the political network might dictate particular actions to them (Hossain 2013; Suykens 2015). Scholars also criticized the use of patron-client relations because this hierarchical relationship established the poor as more powerless and disadvantaged (Stitt and Auyero 2018). Banks (2015) added that this clientelistic network was based on an exploitative relationship that excluded most households from resources. My data refute the above arguments for several reasons. First, some relations were argumentative and antagonistic even within clientelism. For example, people continued collective protest against state agencies and NGOs. And people raised questions against the patrons. One example was the demonstration in Korail against the health services of an NGO when a pregnant mother died under its supervision. Though numerous Korail residents were beneficiaries of that specific NGO, when the common interest of the community was threatened, they stood united and formed a prompt protest against the NGO’s irregularities. Similarly, in BRP, when the management terminated meetings of the flat owners’ association, residents did not silently accept the repression of the patrons. They instead took steps to gain administrative support through emotional or affective appeals from the Land Ministry, by submitting memoranda, and organizing protest in the face of severe obstruction of BRP management. Second, my data showed that people could be included through clientelism. In both research areas, poor people maintained relations with diverse actors to reduce exclusion. For example, in BRP, some respondents supported the BRP office, a kind of patron-client relation. In contrast, other respondents employed collective protest against the management. Third, individuals had different experiences in their attempts to achieve inclusion. Relations between powerful actors and residents are not straightforward, but rather complex and multifaceted. For example, the bribery transactions of street vendors, rickshaw pullers, and linemen with police were a monetary loss. Nevertheless, residents considered this informal monetary exchange to be a strategy of inclusion, not clientelism. This book also highlights the limits of political participation of poor people in their attempts to gain inclusion. Though the provision of legal property rights in BRP enabled an improved quality of urban life, this was in regard to housing and utilities only. Despite having housing inclusion, BRP owners were formally excluded from the decision-making table. The BRP office managed the housing project through a bureaucratic system where those who spoke out were systematically ignored and sometimes actively silenced. Despite Sen’s (1999) arguments about the importance of income, this is a case where greater income did not contribute to expanding freedom of choice or decision-making. According to the BRP management, the residents were already included enough, and when they looked for greater inclusion, they were asking for something extra. Where residents move to gain inclusion as necessity, the state actors consider it as ‘extra demand’ of the people. These neoliberal development projects work through and beyond formal

208  Toward a Conclusion policies and institutions of bureaucracy. They are forced to offer basic services at the face of internal politics and international donor-driven pressure on the one hand, and legitimize exclusions, violence, and dispossession, on the other. There is a gap between people’s demands and government policies, which this book offers some suggestions to fill. The data indicated that BRP’s relatively educated and employed residents possessed a less active political life than the residents of Korail. However, BRP residents did not remain politically inactive, powerless, and silent under the pressure of bureaucratic management. In BRP, many flat owners organized protests to gain inclusion, but others chose to show loyalty to management. Protesters raised their voices, not for exit, but to inform the Land Ministry of their concerns about problems within the management. Despite living in an exclusionary environment where they had limited scope to carry out political action, BRP residents still tried to employ political action for change and control over their lives. I have aimed to extend existing anthropological scholarship by showing that the structural organization of the neighborhood has an effect on the kinds of political organizations that exist. Here different housing statuses, population sizes, and administrative organizations affected the political participation that was feasible. People who lived in poor neighborhoods were not powerless, as some scholars have suggested. The presentation of informal neighborhoods as exploited and excluded is present in an extensive body of recent urban scholarship (e.g., Cameron 2017; Hackenbroch and Hossain 2008; Hossain and Khan 2012; Latif et al. 2016). The portrayals of poor neighborhoods in the existing literature mask the diversity of residents, blending them into a homogenous mass, where they are represented as powerless and fully excluded. This book seeks to add a new dimension to our understanding of the power of the people who live in poor neighborhoods. Even under exclusionary urban governance, people in poor neighborhoods tried to achieve inclusion and control over their own lives through various political strategies and actions. The poor maintain multifaceted relations and strategies to reduce their exclusion. I have also shown how people can use their socio-political networks and political organization to achieve greater inclusion. Examining inclusion as a complicated notion across social, economic, and political domains allows us to better understand people’s capability to participate in political activities. This understanding of inclusion suggests the need for a more systematic exploration of the social and political relationships within and beyond the neighborhoods. As mentioned above, although BRP residents had a greater average income than Korail, residents of Korail had a wider range of income. Therefore, there is a income distribution issue. Due to the freedom of participation in the social, economic, and political spheres of Korail, some people in Korail can be very wealthy, yet there are also possibilities in Korail for the very poor. Some Korail residents got jobs and other facilities through the local leaders and house owners, who worked as vote collectors for the national leaders. Because of the class distribution in Korail, inclusion was stratified. For example, house owners had more access to NGO microcredit than tenants. Again, poor people could borrow from other sources, such as house owners, employers, cooperatives, or neighbors. Sometimes, they could pay

Toward a Conclusion  209 back without interest and a fixed deadline. In contrast to Korail, the BRP residents had a less developed neighborhood social life due to the domination of BRP management, which restricted them from gaining adequate services. Urban renewal policies and development plans have concentrated on housing and utilities inclusion, and the right to enjoy socio-political life remain neglected. The data in this study suggested that the basic problem for the residents of BRP was that they were not treated as full owners with the decision-making capacity that they deserved. This was due to decisions on the part of the administration not to hand over management of the cooperative organization to residents until virtually the whole complex was built. This left residents in a kind of instability, which made them feel deprived. There is an argument that legal housing ownership, the presence of formal agencies and public services could play a role in accelerating the power and livelihoods of the poor, leading to more inclusivity. However, the case of BRP showed that this did not always occur. The BRP residents are still struggling with tiny apartments without balconies, low quality of some utilities, and lack of socio-economic services such as health care, education, and employment, which prevents them from enjoying a quality urban life. Separation from the socio-political sphere also hindered them from asserting their rights. While the Korail residents widened their spectrum of inclusion through political actions, the dissolution of the BRP flat owners association constituted exclusion. The BRP management systematically ignored and sometimes actively silenced those owners who spoke. Tenants cannot lodge complaints because of their irregular status; this has weakened their ability to hold their owners to account. In contrast, in Korail, many house owners and tenants are independent and vocal, and there is accountability toward each other. Overall, residents of the two neighborhoods have become more included in some extent, but not on a regular basis. Both groups are still far from having an adequate quality of life. People who live in BRP and Korail both remain part of non-elite Dhaka society. Residents of BRP face similar problems to those in Korail in getting access to good health care and education for their children. Sometimes they do have slightly better employment prospects due to their marginally better education. Most female residents of both neighborhoods faced obstacles to inclusion due to their gender identity. They were regularly sexually harassed within and beyond their neighborhoods, even at their workplaces. Because of the stigmatized notion of “slum dwellers’ housing,” many youth of both areas often preferred to disguise their home addresses at college, work, or with friends. Although the BRP’s sanitation is better than Korail, the flats are not as hygienic as they should be due to the lack of proper ventilation and light. Housing is of questionable quality where BRP flats are too small and Korail rooms are too fragile; utilities do not work adequately in either place; getting good education and jobs is problematic in both places, and both groups have challenges dealing with the national health system. This book showed that inclusion is sometimes viewed too narrowly. Here, I have argued that the concept of inclusion cannot be limited to getting some benefits. The concept of inclusion as usually used has disregarded local communities’ powers of political participation, their networks, strategies, and demands. The concept of inclusion

210  Toward a Conclusion should be much broader and flexible, as I have argued in this book. Through the understanding of the concepts, patterns, and levels of inclusion, this book challenges the conventional idea of inclusion, which has been perceived and determined by elite policymakers, academics, researchers, donor agencies, and media, and which has overlooked the power of the poor. The most analytically significant finding is that the notions of inclusion and exclusion can have not only political, embedded, contested, and uneven outcomes, but also contradictory interaction effects which create a gray area. This poses the methodological challenge of how to measure and explain the power of people that they employ to gain inclusion in the city. Through the conceptual and empirical understanding of the existence of gray line between inclusion and exclusion, this ethnography explores the political strategies and actions of how people gain inclusion in the city. This book highlights locally attuned power politics that may provide a nexus between authoritarian populism and the recent rise of the state’s neoliberal urban development projects in the name of inclusiveness around the world.

References

Aasland, Aadne, and Tone Flotten. 2001. “Ethnicity and Social Exclusion in Estonia and Latvia.” Europe Asia Studies 53(7): 1023–1049. Abers, Rebecca. 1998. “From Clientelism to Cooperation: Local Government, Participatory Policy, and Civic Organizing in Porto Alegre, Brazil.” Politics and Society 26(4): 511–537. Afsana, Kaosar, and Syed Shabab Wahid. 2013. “Health Care for Poor People in the Urban Slums of Bangladesh.” The Lancet 382(9910): 2049–2051. Afsar, Rita. 2000. Rural-Urban Migration in Bangladesh: Causes, Consequences and ­Challenges. Dhaka: University Press Limited. Ahmed, Akhter, and Taniya Sharmeen. 2004. Assessing the Performance of Conditional Cash Transfer Programs for Girls and Boys in Primary and Secondary Schools in ­Bangladesh. Draft Paper, April 14. Washington, DC: International Food Policy Research Institute. Ahmed, Iftekhar. 2014. “Factors in Building Resilience in Urban Slums of Dhaka, ­Bangladesh.” Procedia Economic and Finance 18: 745–753. Ahmed, Imtiaz. 2004. “Mastanocracy, Violence and Chronic Poverty: Issues and Concerns.” In Chronic Poverty in Bangladesh: Tales of Ascent, Descent, Marginality and Persistence, edited by Binayak Sen and David Hulme, 100–109. Dhaka: Bangladesh Institute of Development Studies. Ahmed, Nizam. 1995. “Party Politics in Bangladesh’s Local Government: The 1994 City Corporation Elections.” Asian Survey 35(11): 1017–1029. Ahmed, Shafiul Azim, and Syed Mansoor Ali. 2006. “People as Partners: Facilitating People’s Participation in Public-Private Partnerships for Solid Waste Management.” Habitat International 30(4): 781–796. Ahmed, Siraj Uddin. 2016. Vumi Montronaloyer Aoutadhin Bhashantek Elakar “Dhaka Mohanogorir Chinnomul Bosti Basi o Nimnobittoder Sorkari Jomite Bohutol Bishisto Vobone Punorbason” Shirshok Prokolper Sarbik Karjokrom Porjalochona Songkranto Committeer Protibedon [Report of the Committee on Review of Overall Activities of the Project entitled “Rehabilitation of Vulnerable Slum Dwellers and Lower Classes in Government Buildings on Multi-storey Buildings on Government Land” in Bhashantek Area under the Ministry of Land]. Dhaka: Bangladesh Ministry of Land. Ahmed, Sohel, Khondokar Nahiduzzaman, and Glen Bramley. 2013. “From a Town to a Megacity: 400 Years of Growth.” In Dhaka Megacity: Geospatial Perspectives on Urbanization, Environment and Health, edited by Ashraf Dewan and Robert Corner, 23–43. Berlin: Springer Science & Business Media.

212 References Ahsan, R. Majid. 2009. “Changing Pattern of the Commercial Area of the Dhaka City.” In Dhaka Past Present and Future, edited by Ahmed Sharif Uddin, 396–414. Dhaka: The Asiatic Society. AlSayyad, Nezar. 2004. “Urban Informality as a ‘New’ Way of Life.” In Urban Informality: Transnational Perspectives from the Middle East, Latin America, and South Asia, edited by Ananya Roy and Nezar AlSayyad, 7–30. Oxford: Lexington Books. AlSamarrai, Samer. 2009. “The Impact of Governance on Education Inequality: Evidence from Bangladesh.” Public Administration and Development 29(3): 167–179. Andaleeb, Syed Saad. 2000. “Public and Private Hospitals in Bangladesh: Service Quality and Predictors of Hospital Choice.” Health Policy and Planning 15(1): 95–102. Andersson, Ruben. 2014. Illegality, Inc. Clandestine Migration and the Business of Bordering Europe. Oakland: University of California Press. Ang, Yuen. 2016. “Co-optation and Clientelism: Nested Distributive Politics in China’s SingleParty Dictatorship.” Studies in Comparative International Development 51(3): 235–256. Angeles, Gustavo, Peter Lance, Janine Barden-O’Fallon, Nazrul Islam, A. Q. M. Mahbub, and Nurul Islam Nazem. 2009. “The 2005 Census and Mapping of Slums in Bangladesh: Design, Select Results and Application.” International Journal of Health Geographics 8(32): 1–32. Aparajeyo. 2005. Slum Observatory: A Study on the Slums of Dhaka City. Bangladesh: Aparajeyo. Appadurai, Arjun. 2001. “Deep Democracy.” Environment and Urbanization 13(2): 1–44. Appadurai, Arjun. 2013. “Housing and Hope.” Places Journal. Accessed 28 November 2020. https://doi.org/10.22269/130305. Arias, Enrique Desmond. 2017. Criminal Enterprises and Governance in Latin America and the Caribbean. New York: Cambridge University Press. Atkinson, Anthony, and Eric Marlier. 2010. “Living Conditions in Europe and the Europe 2020 Agenda.” In Income and Living Conditions in Europe, edited by Anthony Atkinson and Eric Marlier, 21–36. Luxemburg: Publications Office of the European Union. Atkinson, Rob. 2000. “Combating Social Exclusion in Europe: The New Urban Policy ­Challenge.” Urban Studies 37(5–6): 1037–1055. Atkinson, Rowland, and Keith Kintrea. 2004. “‘Opportunities and Despair, It’s All in There’: Practitioner Experiences and Explanations of Area Effects and Life Chances.” Sociology 38(3): 437–455. Aufrecht, Steven, and Li Siu Bun. 1995. “Reform with Chinese Characteristics: The Context of Chinese Civil Service Reform.” Public Administration Review 55(2): 175–182. Auyero, Javier. 1999. “From the Client’s Point of View: How Poor People Perceive and Evaluate Political Clientelism.” Theory and Society 28(2): 297–334. Auyero, Javier. 2001. Poor People’s Politics: Peronist Survival Networks and the Legacy of Evita. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Baker, Judy, and Iwona Reichardt. 2007. A Review of Urban Development Issues in Poverty Reduction Strategies. Washington, DC: World Bank Group. Banks, Nicola. 2008. “A Tale of Two Wards: A Participation and the Urban Poor in Dhaka City.” Environment and Urbanization 20(2): 361–376. Banks, Nicola. 2015. “Livelihoods Limitations: The Political Economy of Urban Poverty in Dhaka, Bangladesh.” Development and Change 47(2): 266–292. Banks, Nicola, Manoj Roy, and David Hulme. 2011. “Neglecting the Urban Poor in ­Bangladesh: Research, Policy, and Action in the Context of Climate Change.” E ­ nvironment and Urbanization 23(2): 487–502.

References  213 Barkat, Abul, Sayeedul H. Khan, Shantanu Majumder, Muhammad Badiuzzaman, Nazme Sabina Kawsher Ahamed, and Mohammad Abdullah. 2015. Local Governance and Decentralization in Bangladesh: Politics and Economics. Dhaka: Pathak Shamabesh. Baser, Shahadat and Abu Hasnath Syed. 2023. The Rise and Fall of the NGOs in ­Bangladesh: What Does the Future Hold? Global Perspectives on Non-Governmental Organizations. London: IntechOpen. DOI: 10.5772/intechopen.107855. Basu, Ipshita, and Kazi Haque. 2012. “Urban Governance in Dhaka: An Overview.” In State of Cities: Urban Governance in Dhaka, edited by Ipshita Basu, 1–11. Dhaka: BRAC University Institute of Governance Study. Bayat, Asef. 2000. “From ‘Dangerous Classes’ to ‘Quiet Rebels’: Politics of the Urban ­Subaltern in the Global South.” International Sociology 15(3): 533–557. BBS (Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics). 1991. Dhaka Statistical Metropolitan Area, ­Bangladesh Population Census 1991. Dhaka: Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics. Beall, Jo. 2002. Globalization and Social Exclusion in Cities: Framing the Debate with Lessons from Africa and Asia. Working Paper 02–27. London: Development Studies Institute, London School of Economics. Bearfield, Domonic. 2009. “What Is Patronage? A Critical Re-examination.” Public Administration Review 69(1): 64–76. Begum, Halima, Philip Richard Heywood, and Connie Susilawati. 2018. “Assisted Community Housing Initiative in Dhaka: Rethinking Role of NGOs in Affordable Housing Development.” Environment and Urbanization ASIA 9(2): 214–229. Begum, Sharifa, and Binayak Sen. 2005. “Pulling Rickshaws in the City of Dhaka: A Way Out of Poverty?” Environment and Urbanization 17(2): 11–25. Benit-Gbaffou, Claire, and Laurence Piper. 2012. “Party Politics, the Poor and the City: Reflections from South Africa.” Geoforum 43(2): 173–229. Benjamin, Solomon. 2008. “Occupancy Urbanism: Radicalizing Politics and Economy Beyond Policy and Programs.” International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 32(3): 719–729. Berenschot, Ward. 2018. “Political Economy of Clientelism: A Comparative Study Indonesia’s Patronage Democracy.” Comparative Political Studies 51(12): of ­ 1563–1593. Bertuzzo, Elisa. 2016. “The Multifaceted Social Structure of an Unrecognized Neighborhood of Dhaka City: Experiences from Korail Bastee.” In Dhaka: An Urban Reader, edited by Mahbubur Rahman, 151–161. Dhaka: The University Press Limited. Biplob, Pramanik, Dipok C. Sarkar, and Ram C. Sarkar. 2011. “Assessment of Water Supply and Sanitation Facilities for Korail Slum in Dhaka City.” International Journal of Civil and Environmental Engineering 11(5): 115–128. Birch, Eugenie. 2019. “Informality as a Way of Life.” Paper Presented at the Workshop of the Penn IUR Series on Urban Informality, Institute for Urban Research, University of Pennsylvania, April 24. Blears, Hazel. 2003. Communities in Control. London: Fabian Society. Blears, Hazel. 2017. “The Road to Empowerment.” In Whose Government is It? The Renewal of State-citizen Cooperation, edited by Tam Henry, 73–87. Bristol: Bristol University Press. Bock, Bettina B., Giorgio Osti, and Flaminia Ventura. 2016. “Rural Migration and New Patterns of Exclusion and Integration in Europe.” In Routledge International Handbook of Rural Studies, 1st ed., edited by Mark Shucksmith and David Brown. Routledge. https:// doi.org/10.4324/978131575304.

214 References Bock, Bettina, Katalin Kovacs, and Mark Shucksmith. 2014. “Changing social characteristics, patterns of inequality and exclusion.” In Territorial Cohesion in Rural Europe: The Relational Turn in Rural Development, edited by Andrew K. Copus and Philomena de Lima, 193–212. New York: Routledge. Booth, John A., and Mitchell A. Seligson. 1978. “Images of Political Participation in Latin America.” In Political Participation in Latin America: Volume 1, Citizen and State, edited by John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson, 3–33. New York: Holmes and Meier. Bose, Ashish. 1973. Studies in India’s Urbanization 1901–1971. Bombay: Tata McGraw Hill Publishing Co. Ltd. Bossert, Walter, Conchita D’Ambrosio, and Vito Peragine. 2007. “Deprivation and Social Exclusion.” Economica 74(296): 777–803. Bourdieu, Pierre. 1977. “Symbolic Power.” In Identity and Structure: Issues in the Sociology of Education, edited by Denis Gleeson, 112–119. Driffield: Nafferton Books. Breese, Gerald. 1966. Urbanization in Newly Developing Countries. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, Inc. Brush, John E. 1962. “The Morphology of Indian Cities.” In India’s Urban Future: Selected Studies from an International Conference, edited by Roy Turner, 57–70. Berkeley: University of California Press. Cameron, Angus. 2006. “Geographies of Welfare and Exclusion: Social Inclusion and Exception.” Progress in Human Geography 30(3): 396–404. Cameron, Stuart James. 2010. Access to and Exclusion from Primary Education in Slums of Dhaka, Bangladesh. CREATE Pathways to Access. Research Monograph No. 45. ERIC, Center for International Education, University of Sussex. Cameron, Stuart James. 2012. “Great Hopes, Good Jobs, Affordable Investments, and Becoming a Real Person: Education Decisions of the Urban Poor in Dhaka, Bangladesh.” Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Sussex. Cameron, Stuart James. 2017. “Urban Inequality, Social Exclusion and Schooling in Dhaka, Bangladesh.” Compare: A Journal of Comparative and International Education 47(4): 580–597. Cardoso, Adalberto, Peter Elias, and Valéria Pero. 2003. “Urban regeneration and spatial discrimination: the case of Rio’s favelas.” In Proceedings of the 31th meeting of the Brazilian Association of Graduate Programs in Economics, Belo Horizonte. vol. 41. Castells, Manuel. 1983. The City and the Grassroots. Berkeley: University of California Press. Castles, Stephen, Ellie Vasta, and Derya Ozkul. 2014. “Australia: A Classical Immigration Country in Transition.” In Controlling Immigration: A Global Perspective, edited by James Hollifield, Philip Martin, and Pia Orrenius, 128–150. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Cernea, Michael. 1985. Putting People First: Sociological Variables in Rural Development. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Chabal, Patrick, and Jean-Pascal Daloz. 1999. Africa Works: Disorder as Political Instrument. Oxford and Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Chae, Suhong. 2003. “Spinning Work and Weaving Life: The Politics of Production in a Capitalistic Multinational Textile Factory in Vietnam.” Ph.D. Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, City University of New York. Chae, Suhong. 2018. “The Political Processes of the Distinctive Multinational Factory Regime and Recent Strikes in Vietnam.” Global Economic Review 47(1): 88–104. Chambers, Robert. 1983. Rural Development: Putting the Last First. Harlow: Longman. Chandra, Kanchan. 2004. Why Ethnic Parties Succeed: Patronage and Ethnic Head Counts in India. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

References  215 Chatterjee, Partha. 2004. The Politics of the Governed: Reflections on Popular Politics in Most of the World. New York: Columbia University Press. Cheema, Shabbir. 2020. “Governance for urban services: towards political and social inclusion in cities.” In Governance for Urban Services: Access, Participation, Accountability, and Transparency., edited by Shabbir Cheema, 1–30. Singapore: Springer. Choguill, Charles. 1987. New Communities for Urban Squatter: Lessons from the Plan that Failed in Dhaka, Bangladesh. New York: Plenum Press. Choguill, Charles. 1994. “Implementing Urban Development Projects: A Search for Criteria for Success.” Third World Planning Review 16(1): 25–40. Choguill, Guaraldo Marisa. 1996. “A Ladder of Community Participation for Underdeveloped Countries.” Habitat International 20(3): 431–444. Chowdhury, A. M., and Shabnam Faruqui. 2009. “Physical Growth of Dhaka City.” In Dhaka: Past Present Future, edited by Sharif Uddin Ahmed, 43–61. Dhaka: The Asiatic Society of Bangladesh. Chowdhury, Zahid Ul Arefin, Steffen Jensen, and Tobias Kelly. 2018. “Counting Torture: Towards the Translation of Robust, Useful, and Inclusive Human Rights Indicators.” Nordic Journal of Human Rights 36(2): 132–150. Cities Alliance. 2006. “Cities Alliance for Cities Without Slums: Action Plan for Moving Slum Upgrading to Scale.” Cities Alliance, Washington, DC. Accessed 20 August, 2018. http://www.citiesalliance.org/sites/citiesalliance.org/files/ActionPlan.pdf. Cohen, Barney. 2006. “Urbanization in Developing Countries: Current Trends, Future ­Projections, and Key Challenges for Sustainability.” Technology in Society 28(1–2): 63–80. Coleman, James. 1988. “Social Capital in the Creation of Human Capital.” American Journal of Sociology 94(1): 95–120. Colvin, Christopher, Steven Robins, and Joan Leavens. 2010. “Grounding ‘Responsibilization Talk’: Masculinities, Citizenship and HIV in Cape Town, South Africa.” Journal of Development Studies 46(7): 1179–1195. Comaroff, John, and Jean Comaroff. 1999. Civil Society and the Political Imagination in Africa: Critical Perspectives. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Commins, Patrick, ed. 1993. Combating Exclusion in Ireland. Brussels: European Commission. Conning, Jonathan, and Michael Kevane. 2002. “Community-Based Targeting Mechanisms for Social Safety Nets: A Critical Review.” World Development 30(3): 375–394. CUS (Center for Urban Studies). 1996. Survey of Slums and Squatter Settlements in Dhaka City. Dhaka: Center for Urban Studies. CUS (Center for Urban Studies). 2006. Slums of Urban Bangladesh: Mapping and Census, 2005. Dhaka: Center for Urban Studies and National Institute of Population Research and Training. da Piedade Morais, Maria, Bruno de Oliveira Cruz, and Carlos Wagner de Albuquerque Oliveira. 2015. Residential Segregation and Social Exclusion in Brazilian Housing ­Markets. Discussion Paper, 122. Brasília: Institute for Applied Economic Research. da Silva, Luiz Inácio Lula. 2003. “The Program for Land Tenure Legalization on Public Land in Sao Paulo.” Environment and Urbanization 15(2): 191–200. Daily Songram. 2019. “The Dream of the Bhashantek Dwellers to Live in Flats is Shattered.” March 3. Daily Star. 2018. “Mughal Dhaka and its River Fortification System.” May 7. Accessed 29 November, 2020. https://www.thedailystar.net/in-focus/mughal-dhaka-and-its-riverfortification-system-1566436.

216 References Daily Sun. 2017. “Four Hundred Grabbers Eat into Dhaka Canals.” 22 August. Accessed 27 August, 2019. https://www.daily-sun.com/printversion/details/249640/400-grabberseat-into-Dhaka-canals. Dani, Ahmed Hasan. 1962. Dacca: A Record of its Changing Fortunes. Dhaka: Asiatic Press. Das, Veena. 2011. “State, Citizenship and the Urban Poor.” Citizenship Studies 15(3–4): 319–333. Das, Veena, and Michael Walton. 2015. “Political Leadership and the Urban Poor: Local Histories.” Current Anthropology 56(S11): S44-S54. Davis, Mike. 2006. Planet of Slums. New York: Verso. Davis, Peter. 2011. Social Exclusion and Adverse Incorporation in Rural Bangladesh: Evidence from a Mixed-Methods Study of Poverty Dynamics. Working Paper, 193. Bath: Chronic Poverty Research Centre. Accessed 16 June 2019. http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ ssrn.1896135. de Haan, Arjan. 1998. “Social Exclusion: An Alternative Concept for the Study of Deprivation?” IDS Bulletin 29(2): 10–19. De Soto, Hernando. 1989. The Other Path: The Invisible Revolution in the Third World. New York: Harper and Row. Deuskar, Chandan. 2019. “Clientelism and Planning in the Informal Settlements of Developing Democracies.” Journal of Planning Literature 34(4): 395–407. Dewan, Ashraf, and Robert Corner, ed. 2013. Dhaka Megacity: Geospatial Perspectives on Urbanization, Environment and Health. Berlin: Springer Science and Business Media. de Wit, Joop, and Erhard Berner. 2009. “Progressive Patronage? Municipalities, NGOs, CBOs and the Limits to Slum Dwellers’ Empowerment.” Development and Change 40(5): 927–947. Dhaka Tribune. 2017. “Rehabilitation of Slum Dwellers: Taking the Right Approach.” March 3. Accessed 23 December 2020. https://www.dhakatribune.com/bangladesh/ dhaka/2017/03/03/rehabilitation-slum-dwellers-taking-right-approach. Duffy, Katherine. 1995. Social Exclusion and Human Dignity in Europe: Background Report for the Proposed Initiative by the Council of Europe. Strasbourg, France: Council of Europe. Durkheim, Emile. 1890. Moral Education. New York: Free Press. DWASA (Dhaka Water Supply and Sewerage Authority). 2011. Dhaka Sewerage Master Plan Project, Master Plan Report. Dhaka: DWASA. Dyer, Caroline. 2012. “Formal Education and Pastoralism in Western India: Inclusion, or Adverse Incorporation?” Compare: A Journal of Comparative and International Education 42(2): 259–281. Ekdale, Brian. 2014. “Slum Discourse, Media Representations and Maisha Mtaani in ­Kibera, Kenya.” Ecquid Novi: African Journalism Studies 35(1): 92–108. Ellen, Ingrid Gould, and Margery Austin Turner. 1997. “Does Neighborhood Matter? Assessing Recent Evidence.” Housing Policy Debate 8(4): 833–866. Etzold, Benjamin. 2013. The Politics of Street Food: Contested Governance and Vulnerabilities in Dhaka’s Field of Street Vending. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag. Etzold, Benjamin. 2016. “Migration, Informal Labor and (Trans) Local Productions of Urban Space: The Case of Dhaka’s Street Food Vendors.” Population, Space and Place 22(2): 170–184. Fay, Marianne, and Caterina Ruggeri Laderchi. 2005. “Urban poverty in Latin America and the Caribbean: Setting the stage.” In The Urban Poor in Latin America, edited by Marianne Fay, 19–46. Washington, D.C.: The World Bank.

References  217 Ferdous, Farhana. 2012. “The Spatial Analysis and Morphological Evolution of the ‘Bazaar Streets’ and Urban Structure of Dhaka City.” Urban Design International 17(3): 206–220. Ferguson, James. 2013. “Declarations of Dependence: Labor, Personhood, and Welfare in Southern Africa.” Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 19(2): 223–242. Fernandes, Edesio, and Martin Smolka. 2004. “Land Regularization and Upgrading Programs Revisited.” Land Lines 16(3): 12–16. Fischer, Brodwyn. 2008. A Poverty of Rights: Citizenship and Inequality in Twentieth-­ Century Rio de Janeiro. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Fischer, Brodwyn, Bryan McCann, and Javier Auyero, eds. 2014. Cities from Scratch: Poverty and Informality in Urban Latin America. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Fitzgerald, Hiram, and Renee Zientek. 2015. “Learning Cities, Systems Change, and Community Engagement Scholarship.” In Learning Cities for Adult Learners: New Directions for Adult and Continuing Education, edited by Scott Leodis, 21–34. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley Periodicals Inc. Foo, Katherine. 2018. “Examining the Role of NGOs in Urban Environmental Governance.” Cities 77: 67–72. Foucault, Michel. 1991. “Governmentality.” In The Foucault Effect: Studies in Governmentality, edited by Graham Burchell, Colin Gordon, and Peter Miller, 87–104. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Geddes, Mike, and John Benington. 2001. Local Partnerships and Social Exclusion in the European Union: New Forms of Local Social Governance. London: Routledge. Ghertner, Asher. 2012. “Nuisance Talk and the Propriety of Property: Middle Class Discourses of a Slum-Free Delhi.” Antipode 44(4): 1161–1187. Giddens, Anthony. 1998. The Third Way: The Renewal of Social Democracy. Cambridge: Polity Press. Gilbert, Alan. 2007. “The Return of the Slum: Does Language Matter?” International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 31(1): 697–713. Glaeser, Bernhard, and Marion Glaser. 2011. “People, Fish and Coral Reefs in Indonesia: A Contribution to Social-ecological Research.” GAIA: Ecological Perspectives for Science and Society 20(2): 139–141 Glenn, Evelyn Nakano. 2011. “Constructing Citizenship: Exclusion, Subordination and Resistance.” American Sociological Review 76(1): 1–24. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 1973. The First Five Year Plan (1973–1978). Dhaka: Planning Commission. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 1980. The Second Five Year Plan (1980–1985). Dhaka: Planning Commission. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 1985. The Third Five Year Plan (1985–1990). Dhaka: Planning Commission. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 1990. The Fourth Five Year Plan (1990–1995). Dhaka: Planning Commission. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 1998a. The Fifth Five Year Plan (1998–2002). Dhaka: Planning Commission. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 1998b. National Policy for Safe Water Supply and Sanitation 1998. Dhaka: Local Government Division, Ministry of Local Government, Rural Development and Cooperatives. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2004. National Energy Policy 2004. Dhaka: Ministry of Power, Energy and Mineral Resources. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2010. National Child Labor Elimination Policy 2010. Dhaka: Ministry of Labor and Employment.

218 References GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2011a. The Sixth Five Year Plan (2011–2015). Dhaka: Planning Commission. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2011b. National Health Policy 2011. Dhaka: Ministry of Health and Family Welfare. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2011c. National Skills Development Policy 2011. Dhaka: Ministry of Education. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2012a. National Labor Policy 2012. Dhaka: Ministry of Labor and Employment. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2012b. Health Bulletin 2012. Dhaka: Directorate ­General of Health Services, Ministry of Health and Family Welfare. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2013. National Occupational Health and Safety Policy 2013. Dhaka: Ministry of Labor and Employment. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2014a. National Urban Health Strategy 2014. Dhaka: Local Government Division, Ministry of Local Government, Rural Development and Cooperatives. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2014b. National Strategy for Water Supply and Sanitation. Policy Support Unit (PSU). Dhaka: Local Government Division, Ministry of Local Government, Rural Development and Cooperatives. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2015a. The Seventh Five Year Plan (2016–2020). Dhaka: Planning Commission. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2015b. Domestic Workers Protection Welfare Policy 2015. Dhaka: Ministry of Labor and Employment. GOB (Government of Bangladesh). 2020. Government of the People’s Republic of ­Bangladesh Prime Minister’s Education Assistance Trust, Secondary and Higher Education Division. Dhaka: Ministry of Education. Gore, Charles. 1995. “Introduction: Markets, Citizenship and Social Exclusion.” In Social Exclusion: Rhetoric, Reality and Responses, edited by Gerry Rodgers, Gore Charles and Jose Figueiredo, 1–40. Geneva, Switzerland: International Institute for Labour Studies, United Nations Development Program. Gramsci, Antonio. 1971. Selections from the Prison Notebooks. New York: International Publishers. Gray, Andrew. 2000. “Adaptive Ecosystem Management in the Pacific Northwest: A Case Study from Coastal Oregon.” Conservation Ecology 4(2): 1–6. Green, Duncan. 2012. From Poverty to Power: How Active Citizens and Effective States Can Change the World. Oxford: Oxfam. Gruebner, Oliver, Jonathan Sachs, Anika Nockert, Michael Frings, M. Khan, Mobarak ­Hossain, Tobia Lakes, and Patrick Hostert. 2014. “Mapping the Slums of Dhaka from 2006 to 2010.” Dataset Papers in Science 2014, June 25. Gupta, Akhil. 1995. “Blurred Boundaries: The Discourses of Corruption, the Culture of Politics and the Imagined State.” American Ethnologist 22(2): 375–402. Gupta, Akhil. 2017. “Changing Forms of Corruption in India.” Modern Asian Studies 51(6): 1862–1890. Gupta, Minisha. 2021. “Role of NGOs in Women Empowerment: Case Studies from ­Uttarakhand, India.” Journal of Enterprising Communities: People and Places in the Global Economy 15(1): 26–41. Habib, Enamul. 2009. “The Role of Government and NGOs in Slum Development: The Case of Dhaka City.” Development in Practice 19(2): 259–265. Hackenbroch, Kirsten, and Shahadat Hossain. 2008. “‘The Organized Encroachment of the Powerful’: Everyday Practices of Public Space and Water Supply in Dhaka, Bangladesh.” Planning Theory and Practice 13(3): 397–420.

References  219 Haque, Imdadul, Alauddin Chowdhury, M. Shahjahan, and M. Golam Dostogir Harun. 2018. “Traditional Healing Practices in Rural Bangladesh: A Qualitative Investigation.” BMC Complementary Medicine and Therapies 18(62): 1–15. Haque, Mahfuzul. 2019. “Urban Water Governance: Pricing of Water for the Slum Dwellers of Dhaka Metropolis.” In Urban Drought: Disaster Risk Reduction, edited by Bhaswati Ray and Rajib Shaw, 385–397. Singapore: Springer. Haque, Munshi Shafiul. 2007. “Shelter Design and Development, Bangladesh Perspective: In Search of Sustainable Shelter for the Urban Poor.” Accessed 30 November 2020. http:// www.hdm.lth.se/fileadmin/hdm/alumni/papers/SDD_2007_242b/Munshi_Haque_-_ Bangladesh.pdf. Harari, Mariaflavia and Maisy Wong. 2018. “Slum Upgrading and Long-run Urban Development: Evidence from Indonesia.” 2018 Meeting Papers 367, Society for Economic Dynamics. Harrison, Elizabeth. 2010. “Unpacking the Anti-corruption Agenda: Dilemmas for Anthropologists.” Oxford Development Studies 34(1): 15–29. Harriss, John. 2005. “Political Participation, Representation and the Urban Poor.” Economic and Political Weekly 40(11): 1041–1054. Hart, Keith. 1973. “Informal Income Opportunities and Urban Employment in Ghana.” Journal of Modern African Studies 11(1): 61–89. Harvey, David. 2008. “The Right to the City.” New Left Review 53: 23–40. Harvey, David. 2009. Cosmopolitanism and Geographies of Freedom. New York: Columbia University Press. Harvey, David. 2014. Seventeen Contradictions and the End of Capitalism. New York: Oxford University Press. Hayes, Alan, Matthew Gray, and Ben Edwards. 2008. Social Inclusion: Origin, Concepts and Key Themes. Canberra, Australia: Social Inclusion Unit, Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet. Henry, Beveridge. 2010. The Akbarnama of Abu-L-Fazl, Vol. I & II. Delhi: Low Price Publications. Hernandez, Daniel Oviedo, and Helena Titheridge. 2016. “Mobilities of the Periphery: Informality, Access and Social Exclusion in the Urban Fringe in Colombia.” Journal of Transport Geography 55: 152–164. Herrle, Peter, Astrid Ley, and Josefine Fokdal. 2018. From Local Action to Global Networks: Housing the Urban Poor. Oxon: Routledge. Heyat, Farideh. 2002. Azeri Women in Transition: Women in Soviet and Post-Soviet ­Azerbaijan. London: Routledge. Hirschman, Albert. 1970. Exit, Voice, and Loyalty: Responses to Decline in Firms, Organizations and States. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Hodder, Rupert. 2010. “Informality in the Philippine Civil Service.” Asian Studies Review 34(2): 231–251. Hodder, Rupert. 2015. “What’s Wrong with Patronage?” Global Society 52(2): 166–173. Hodder, Rupert. 2018. Small Business, Big Society. Singapore: Springer. Hohmann, Jessie. 2010. “Visions of Social Transformation and the Invocation of Human Rights in Mumbai: The Struggle for the Right to Housing.” Yale Human Rights and Development 13: 135–184. Hollifield, James. 2012. “Governing Migration.” In Global Migration: Challenges in the Twenty-First Century, edited by Kabita Khory, 183–209. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Holston, James. 2008. “Insurgent Citizenship in an Era of Global Urban Peripheries.” City and Society 21(2): 245–267.

220 References Holston, James and Arjun Appadurai. 1998. “Introduction: Cities and citizenship.” In Cities and Citizenship, 1–18. New York: Duke University Press. Hossain, Khandker Zakir, and Shafiul Azam Ahmed. 2014. “Non-conventional Public-­ private Partnerships for Water Supply to Urban Slums.” Urban Water Journal 2(7): 570–580. Hossain, Mohammed Aslam, and Tauhid Hossain Khan. 2012. “Poverty and Public Services: Exclusion of Urban Poor.” In Decelerated Decline: State of Poverty in Bangladesh, edited by Rashed Titumir, 1–13. Dhaka: Shrabon Prokashani. Hossain, Shahadat. 2013. “The Informal Practice of Appropriation and Social Control: Experience from a Bosti in Dhaka.” Environment and Urbanization 25(1): 209–224. Hussain, Rasel, Amit Saha, Golam Rabbani, Irin Pervin, Wasifa Shamma, and Sazzad H. Khan. 2015. “State and the Low-cost Housing for the Poor: Fall of Bhashantek Rehabilitation Project (BRP) in Dhaka City, Bangladesh.” Journal of Education and Practice 6(13): 1–12. Huq, Parvaz Azharul. 2014. “The Limits of Citizen Participation in the Urban Local Governance Process in Bangladesh.” International Journal of Public Administration 37(7): 424–435. Hutchison, Jane. 2007. “The ‘Disallowed’ Political Participation of Manila’s Urban Poor.” Democratization 14(5): 853–872. Hutchison, Jane, and Ian D. Wilson. 2020. “Poor People’s Politics in Urban Southeast Asia.” In The Political Economy of Southeast Asia: Politics and Uneven Development Under Hyper Globalisation, edited by Toby Carroll, Shahar Hameiri, and Lee Jones, 271–291. Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan. ILO (International Labor Organization). 1972. Employment, Incomes and Equality: A Strategy for Increasing Productive Employment in Kenya. Geneva: International Labor Organization. International Institute for Sustainable Development. 2013. Energy Subsidies in Bangladesh: A Profile of Groups Vulnerable to Reform. Dhaka: Bangladesh Institute of Development Studies. Accessed 20 February 2021. https://www.iisd.org/gsi/sites/default/files/ ffs_stakeholders_bangladesh.pdf. Ishtiaque, Asif, and Mallik S. Mahmud. 2017. “Migration Objectives and their Fulfilment: A Micro Study of the Rural-Urban Migrants of the Slums of Dhaka City.” Malaysian Journal of Society and Space 7(4): 24–29. Islam, Rezaul, and Ndungi wa Mungai. 2016. “Forced Eviction in Bangladesh: A Human Rights Issue.” International Social Work 59(4): 494–507. Islam, Nazrul. 1993. “The Bangladesh Situation in Urban Management Capacity.” CUS Bulletin on Urbanization and Development, 24 and 25. Dhaka: Center for Urban Studies. Islam, Nazrul. 1996. Dhaka from City to Megacity: Perspectives on People, Places, Planning and Development Issues. Bangladesh Urban Studies Series, Issue 1. Dhaka: Department of Geography, University of Dhaka. Islam, Nazrul, and Mohammad Mohabbat Khan. 1997. Urban Governance in Bangladesh and Pakistan. Dhaka: Centre for Urban Studies. Jackman, David. 2018. “The Decline of Gangsters and Politicization of Violence in Urban Bangladesh.” Development and Change 50(5): 1214–1238. Jackson, Cecile. 1999. “Social Exclusion and Gender: Does One Size Fit All?” The ­European Journal of Development Research 11(1): 125–146. Jacobs, Jane. 1984. Cities and the Wealth of Nations. New York: Penguin Books. Jakhanwal, S. P. 2014. “Urban Development and Exclusion of the Poor: An Integrated ­Perspective.” Social Change 44(4): 605–614.

References  221 Kabeer, Naila. 2012. “Empowerment, Citizenship and Gender Justice: A Contribution to Locally Grounded Theories of Change in Women’s Lives.” Ethics and Social Welfare 6(3): 216–232. Kabeer, Naila. 2014. “The Politics and Practicalities of Universalism: Towards a CitizenCentred Perspective on Social Protection.” European Journal of Development Research 26(3): 338–354. Kabir, Ahsanul, and Bruno Parolin. 2012. “Planning and Development of Dhaka: A Story of 400 Years.” Paper Presented at the International Planning History Society Conference, Sao Paulo, July 15. Kabir, Tamanna. 2013. “Housing Affordability of Slum Dwellers in Slum Resettlement Project: A Case Study of Bhashantek Rehabilitation Project, Dhaka, Bangladesh.” Journal of Habitat Engineering and Design 4(2): 87–98. Kapur, Devesh, and John McHale. 2012. “Economic Effects of Emigration on Sending Countries.” In The Oxford Handbooks of the Politics of International Migration, edited by Marc R. Rosenblum and Daniel J. Tichenor, 131–155, Vol. 1. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Karim, Tahia, Hossain Lipu, and Sultan Mahmud. 2017. “Electricity Access Improvement Using Renewable Energy and Energy Efficiency: A Case of Urban Poor Area of Dhaka, Bangladesh.” International Journal of Renewable Energy Research 7(3): 1296–1306. Karpat, Kemal Hasim. 1976. The Gecekondu: Rural Migration and Urbanization. New York: Cambridge University Press. ­ angladeshi Khan, Iqbal Alam. 2000. “Struggle for Survival: Networks and Relationship in a B Slum.” Ph.D. Dissertation, Department of Social and Policy Sciences, Bath: University of Bath. Khan, Mohammad Mohabbat. 2013. From Government to Governance: Expanding the Horizon of Public Administration to Public Management. Dhaka: The University Press Limited. King, Anthony. 1976. Colonial Urban Development: Culture, Social Power and Environment. London: Routledge. Klaufus, Christien, Paul Van Lindert, Femke Van Noorloos, and Griet Steel. 2017. “Allinclusiveness versus exclusion: Urban project development in Latin America and Africa.” Sustainability 9(11): 2038. Koenig, Dolores. 2011. “Multiple Actors and Contested Terrains: Strategies of Pro-poor Action in Contemporary Urban Restructuring.” Journal of Developing Societies 27(3&4): 327–353. Koenig, Dolores. 2017. “Informality as a Strategy to Formalize: Finding Housing in ­Bamako, Mali.” Anuac 6(2): 63–68. Kopecký, Petr, and Maria Spirova. 2011. “Jobs for the Boys? Patterns of Party Patronage in Post-Communist Europe.” West European Politics 34(5): 897–921. Koster, Martijn, and Monique Nuijten. 2016. “Coproducing Urban Space: Rethinking the Formal/Informal Dichotomy.” Singapore Journal of Tropical Geography 37(3): 282–294. Krugman, Paul. 2011. “The New Economic Geography, Now Middle-aged.” Regional ­Studies 45(1): 1–7. Kummitha, Rama Krishna. 2017. Social Entrepreneurship and Social Inclusion. Singapore: Palgrave Macmillan. Lata, Lutfun Nahar. 2021. “To Whom Does the City Belong? Obstacles to Right to the City for the Urban Poor in Bangladesh.” Journal of Contemporary Asia 15(4): 638–659.

222 References Latif, Mahmuda Binte, Anjuman Irin, and Jannatul Ferdaus. 2016. “Socio-economic and Health Status of Slum Dwellers of the Kalyanpur Slum in Dhaka City.” Bangladesh ­Journal of Scientific Research 29(1): 73–83. Lawless, Jennifer, and Richard Fox. 2001. “Political Participation of the Urban Poor.” Social Problems 48(3): 362–385. Lazarev, Valery, and Paul Gregory. 2003. “Commissars and Cars: A Case Study in the Political Economy of Dictatorship.” Journal of Comparative Economics 31(1): 1–19. Ledeneva, Alena, Anna Bailey, Sheelagh Barron, Costanaza Curro, and Elizabeth Teague. 2018. The Global Encyclopaedia of Informality: Understanding Social and Cultural Complexity. London: University College London Press. Leftwich, Adrian. 2008. Developmental States, Effective States and Poverty Reduction: The Primacy of Politics. UNRISD Project on Poverty Reduction and Policy Regimes. Geneva: United Nations Research Institute for Social Development. Levitas, Ruth. 1999. “Defining and Measuring Social Exclusion: A Critical Overview of Current Proposals.” Radical Statistics 71: 10–27. Levitas, Ruth, Christina Pantazis, Eldin Fahmy, David Gordon, Eva Lloyd-Reichling, and Demy Patsios. 2007. The Multi-dimensional Analysis of Social Exclusion. Project Report. Bristol: University of Bristol. Accessed 28 November 2020. https://repository.uel.ac.uk/ item/8666q. Lewis, David. 2011. Bangladesh: Politics, Economy and Civil Society. New York: ­Cambridge University Press. Lewis, David. 2017. “Organizing and Representing the Poor in a Clientelistic Democracy: The Decline of Radical NGOs in Bangladesh.” The Journal of Development Studies 53(10): 1545–1567. Lewis, David. 2018. “Peopling Policy Processes? Methodological Populism in the ­Bangladesh Health and Education Sectors.” World Development 108: 16–27. Lewis, David, Kanji, Nazneen, and Themudo, Nuno. S. 2020. Non-governmental Organizations and Development. London: Routledge. Lewis, Oscar. 1966. “The Culture of Poverty.” Scientific American 215(4): 19–25. Lipu, Molla Shahadat, Taskin Jamal, and Muhammad A. Miah. 2013. “Barriers to Energy Access in the Urban Poor Areas of Dhaka, Bangladesh: Analysis of Present Situation and Recommendations.” International Journal of Energy Economics and Policy 3(4): 395–411. Lister, Ruth. 1997. “Dialectics of Citizenship.” Hypatia 12(4): 6–26. Lister, Ruth. 1998. “Citizenship on the Margins: Citizenship, Social Work and Social Action.” European Journal of Social Work 1(1): 5–18. Lutzoni, Laura. 2016. “In-formalized Urban Space Design: Rethinking the Relationship Between Formal and Informal.” City, Territory and Architecture 3(20): 1–14. Mahadevan, Subadevan, and Ijlal Naqvi. 2017. “Contesting Urban Citizenship: The Urban Poor’s Strategies of State Engagement in Chennai, India.” International Development Planning Review 39(1): 77–95. Mahadevia, Darshini. 2011. “Branded or Renewed? Politics, Policies and Processes of Urban Development in the Reform Era.” Economic and Political Weekly 46(31): 56–64. Mamoon, Muntassir. 2001. Unish Shotoker Dhaka [19th Century’s Dhaka]. Dhaka: Ananya Prokashoni. Mannan, M. A. 2013. “Access to Public Health Facilities in Bangladesh: A Study on Facility Utilisation and Burden of Treatment.” Bangladesh Development Studies 36(4): 25–80. Martin, Philip. 2015. “Economic Aspects of Migration.” In Migration Theory: Talking Across Discipline, edited by Caroline Brettell and James F. Hollifield, 89–114. New York: Routledge.

References  223 Massey, Douglas, Joaquin Arango, Graeme Hugo, Ali Kouaouci, Adela Pellegrino, and Edward Taylor. 1994. “An Evaluation of International Migration Theory: The North American Case.” Population and Development Review 20(4): 699–751. Mayne, Alan. 1993. The Imagined Slum: Newspaper Representation in Three Cities, ­1870–1914. Leicester: Leicester University Press. Mayne, Alan. 2017. Slums: The History of a Global Injustice. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. McGee, T.G. 1971. The Urbanization Process in the Third World. London: McGraw-Hill. McLeod, Ruth. 2011. Building Effective Relationships Between the Urban Poor and Government. Comic Relief Literature Review People Living in Urban Slums International Grants Program, 1–42. Accessed 29 November 2021. https://contentstore.cla.co.uk/ secure/link?id=719dd5bf-cf86-e911-80cd-005056af4099. Mehrotra, Rahul. 2008. “Introduction: Learning from the Kinetic City.” In Urban Transformation, edited by Ilka Ruby and Andreas Ruby, 202–204. Berlin: Ruby Press. Metcalf, Barbara, and Thomas R. Metcalf. 2002. The Concise History of India. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Migdal, Joel S., Atul Kohli, and Vivienne Shue. 1994. State Power and Social Forces: Domination and Transformation in the Third World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mitlin, Diana. 2001. “Civil Society and Urban Poverty: Examining Complexity.” Environment and Urbanization 13(2): 151–173. MOHFW (Ministry of Health and Family Welfare). 2011. Human Resources Development. Dhaka: Bangladesh. Mohit, Mohammed Abdul. 2012. “Bastee Settlements of Dhaka City, Bangladesh: A Review of Policy Approaches and Challenges Ahead.” Social and Behavioural Sciences 36(1): 611–622. Moreno-Jaimes, Carlos. 2007. “Do Competitive Elections Produce Better Quality Governments? Evidence from Mexico Municipalities, 1990–2000.” Latin American Research Review 42(2): 136–153. Mosse, David. 2007. Power and the Durability of Poverty: A Critical Exploration of the Links between Culture, Marginality and Chronic Poverty. Chronic Poverty Research Centre (CPRC) Working Paper, 107. Manchester: CPRC. Mowla, Qazi Azizul. 1997. “Settlement Texture: Study of a Mahalla in Dhaka.” Journal of Urban Design 2(3): 259–275. Mowla, Qazi Azizul. 2000. “Colonial Urban Morphologies: An Inquiry into Typology and Evolution Pattern.” Khulna University Studies 2(1): 45–62. Mowla, Qazi Azizul. 2016. “Colonial Spatial Planning Versus Local Tradition in the Morphology of Urban Dhaka.” In Dhaka: An Urban Reader, edited by Mahbubur Rahman, 1–30. Dhaka: The University Press Limited. Nahiduzzaman, Khondokar. 2006. “Housing the Urban Poor: Planning, Business and Politics. A Case of Duraipara Slum.” M.A. Thesis, Department of Geography, Norwegian University of Science and Technology. Nahiduzzaman, Khondokar. 2012. “Housing the Urban Poor: An Integrated Governance Perspective, the Case of Dhaka, Bangladesh.” Ph.D. Dissertation, Department of Urban Planning and Environment, Stockholm Royal Institute of Technology. Nakamura, Shohei. 2014. “Impact of Slum Formalization on Self-help Housing Construction: A Case of Slum Notification in India.” Urban Studies 51(16): 3420–3444. Nakamura, Shohei. 2016. “Revealing Invisible Rules in Slums: The Nexus between Perceived Tenure Security and Housing Investment.” Habitat International 53: 151–162. Narayan, Deepa. 2002. Empowerment and Poverty Reduction. Washington, DC: The World Bank.

224 References Nelson, Joan. 2017. Access to Power: Politics and the Urban Poor in Developing Nations. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Norpoth, Johannes, Grob Lukas, and Rahima Aktar. 2014. Child Labor in Bangladesh: An Analysis of Gaps and Weakness of the Existing Legal Framework. Institute für Entwicklungsforschung und Entwicklungspolitik Working Paper, 204. Bochum: Ruhr-Universität Bochum. Norris, Pippa. 2002. Democratic Phoenix: Reinventing Political Activism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ostrom, Elinor. 1990. Governing the Commons: The Evolution of Institutions for Collective Action. New York: Cambridge University Press. Panday, Pranab Kumar. 2017. Reforming Urban Governance in Bangladesh: The City Corporation. Cham and London: Palgrave Macmillan. Panday, Pranab Kumar. 2019. “Public Participation in Local Governments in Bangladesh: Experience, Challenges and the Future.” Asia Pacific Journal of Public Administration 41(2): 85–96. Panday, Pranab Kumar, and Pradip Kumar Panday. 2008. “The Development of the Urban Government System in Bangladesh: Does Coordination Exist?” Local Government Studies 34(5): 559–575. Patel, Kamna. 2013. “The Value of Secure Tenure: Ethnographic Accounts of How Tenure Security is Understood and Realised by Residents of Low-income Settlements in Durban, South Africa.” Urban Forum 24(2): 269–287. Paxson, Christina, and Norbert Schady. 2002. “The Allocation and Impact of Social Funds: Spending on School Infrastructure in Peru.” The World Bank Economic Review 16(2): 297–319. Percy-Smith, Janie. 2000. Policy Responses to Social Exclusion: Towards Inclusion? ­Berkshire: Open University Press. Perlman, Janice. 1976. The Myth of Marginality: Urban Poverty and Politics of Rio de Janeiro. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Perlman, Janice. 2004. “Marginality: From Myth to Reality in the Favelas of Rio de Janeiro, 1969–2002.” In Urban Informality: Transnational Perspectives from the Middle East, Latin America, and South Asia, edited by Ananya Roy and Nezar AlSayyad, 105–146. Oxford: Lexington Books. Perlman, Janice. 2005. “Drugs and Violence: The New Reality of Marginality.” The Journal of Contingencies and Crisis Management 13(2): 76–78. Perlman, Janice, and Roger Waldinger. 1997. “Second Generation Decline? Children of Immigrants, Past and Present: A Reconsideration.” International Migration Review 31(4): 893–921. Philip, Lorna, and Mark Shucksmith. 2003. “Conceptualizing Social Exclusion in Rural Britain.” European Planning Studies 11(4): 461–480. Pieke, Frank. 1995. “Bureaucracy, Friends, and Money: The Growth of Capital Socialism in China.” Comparative Studies in Society and History 37(3): 494–518. Pierce, Gregory. 2015. “Basic Services, Low-income Settlements and the Local State: How Collectively Organized Initiatives Redress Inequalities.” Ph. D. Dissertation, Department of Urban Planning, University of California, Los Angeles. Piven, Frances Fox, and Richard Cloward. 1971. Regulating the Poor: The Functions of Public Welfare. New York: Vintage Books. Piven, Frances Fox, and Richard Cloward. 1979. Poor People’s Movements: Why They Succeed, How They Fail. New York: Vintage Books. ­ conomy: Portes, Alejandro, Manuel Castells, and Lauren A. Benton, eds. 1989. The Informal E Studies in Advanced and Less Developed Countries. Baltimore, MD and ­London: Johns Hopkins University Press.

References  225 Portes, Alejandro, and Rubén G. Rumbaut. 1996. Immigrant America: A Portrait. 2nd ed. Berkeley: University of California Press. Potter, Philip. 1996. “Alternatives to the Concept of ‘Integration’ in the Struggle Against Exclusion.” In Housing Question of the ‘Others,’ edited by Emine Komut, 492–501. Ankara: Chamber of Architects of Turkey. Pradhan, Rajendra. 2006. “Understanding Social Exclusion and Social Inclusion in N ­ epalese Context: Some Preliminary Remarks.” The Organization 9(3): 161–180. Prashika. 1996. Report of the Urban Poverty Reduction Process. Dhaka: Asian Development Bank, Government of Bangladesh, Local Government Engineering Department, and Prashika. Putnam, Robert. 1993. Making Democracy Work: Civic Traditions in Modern Italy. ­Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Quibria, Muhammad, and Shafi Ahmed. 2007. Aid Effectiveness in Bangladesh. Munich Personal RePEc Archive Paper, 10299. Germany: University Library of Munich. Rahaman, Muhammad, Tahmid S. Ahmed, and Abdullah Al-Hadi. 2015. Water Pricing for Slum Dwellers in Dhaka Metropolitan Area: Is It Affordable? Research Monograph, Department of Civil Engineering, University of Asia Pacific, Dhaka. Rahman, Mashrur, Kawser Bin Zaman, and Roxana Hafiz. 2016. “Translating Text into Space for Mapping the Past Territory of a City: A Study on Spatial Development of Dhaka During Mughal Period.” City Territory Architect 3(1): 1–16. Rahman, Mohammed Mahbubur. 2001. “Bastee Eviction and Housing Rights: A Case of Dhaka, Bangladesh.” Habitat International 25(1): 49–67. Rahman, Shamsur, and Mizanur Rahman. 2005. “Local Government in Bangladesh: Major Issues and Challenges.” In The Role of Public Administration in Alleviating Poverty and Improving Governance, edited by Jak Jacobs, 141–157. Kuala Lumpur: Asian Development Bank. Rakodi, Carole. 2001. “Forget Planning, Put Politics First? Priorities for Urban Management in Developing Countries.” International Journal of Applied Earth Observation and Geoinformation 3(3): 209–223. Rana, Masud Parves. 2011. “Urbanization and Sustainability: Challenges and Strategies for Sustainable Urban Development in Bangladesh.” Environment, Development and Sustainability 13(1): 237–257. Rao, Vyjayanthi. 2006. “Slum as theory.” International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 30(1): 225–232. Rashid, Sabina Faiz. 2009. “Strategies to Reduce Exclusion Among Populations Living in Urban Slum Settlements in Bangladesh.” Journal of Health, Population and Nutrition 27(4): 574–586. Renfrew, Daniel. 2013. “‘We Are Not Marginals’: The Cultural Politics of Lead Poisoning in Montevideo, Uruguay.” Latin American Perspectives 40(1): 202–217. Rodgers, Dennis, and Gareth A. Jones. 2011. “The World Bank’s World Development Report 2011 on Conflict, Security, and Development: A Critique through Five Vignettes.” Journal of International Development 23(7): 980–995. Room, Graham, ed. 1995. Beyond the Threshold: The Measurement and Analysis of Social Exclusion. Bristol: Polity Press. Roy, Ananya. 2003. “Paradigms of Propertied Citizenship: Transnational Techniques of Analysis.” Urban Affairs Review 38(4): 463–491. Roy, Ananya. 2004. “The Gentlemen’s City: Urban Informality in the Calcutta of New Communism.” In Urban Informality: Transnational Perspectives from the Middle East, Latin America, and South Asia, edited by Ananya Roy and Nezar AlSayyad, 147–170. Oxford: Lexington Books.

226 References Roy, Ananya. 2005. “Urban Informality: Toward an Epistemology of Planning.” Journal of the American Planning Association 71(2): 147–158. Roy, Ananya. 2009. “Why India Cannot Plan Its Cities: Informality, Insurgence and the Idiom of Urbanization.” Planning Theory 8(1): 76–87. Roy, Ananya, and Nezar AlSayyad, eds. 2004. Urban Informality: Transnational Perspectives from the Middle East, Latin America, and South Asia. Oxford: Lexington Books. Roy, Manoj, and David Hulme. 2013. “How the Private Sector Meets the Demand for Lowincome Shelter in Bangladesh.” Shelter 14(1): 90–98. Sassen, Saskia. 1998. Globalization and Its Discontents. New York: New Press. Scheper-Hughes, Nancy. 1992. Death without Weeping: The Violence of Everyday Life in Brazil. Berkley: University of California Press. Scott, James. 1972. “Patron-client Politics and Political Change in Southeast Asia.” The American Political Science Review 66(1): 91–113. Sen, Amartya. 1999. Development as Freedom. New York: Anchor Books. Sen, Amartya. 2000. Social Exclusion: Concept, Application and Scrutiny. Social Development Papers 1. Philippines: Asian Bank Limited. Sen, Amartya. 2015. “Universal Health Care: Health for All, Now (Development).” World Nutrition 6(3): 157–159. Shantz, Slade, Geoffrey Kistruck, Desiree F. Pacheco, and Justin Webb. 2020. “How Formal and Informal Hierarchies Shape Conflict within Cooperatives: A Field Experiment in Ghana.” Academy of Management Journal 63(2): 503–529. Sharma, Aradhana, and Akhil Gupta. 2006. The Anthropology of State. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing Ltd. Sharma, Archana. 2001. “Politicians Did Not Want to Alienate Airport Slum Dwellers Before Civic Polls.” Times of India (Mumbai), December 7: 7. Siddiqui, Kamal. 1994. Local Government in Bangladesh, 2nd ed. Dhaka: National Institute of Local Government. Siddiqui, Kamal, Jamshed Ahmed, and Mustaque Ahmed. 2000. Overcoming the Governance Crisis in Dhaka City. Dhaka: University Press Limited. Siddiqui, Nazlee, and Shahjahan Ali Khandaker. 2007. “Comparison of Services of Public, Private and Foreign Hospitals from the Perspective of Bangladeshi Patients.” Journal of Health, Population and Nutrition 25(2): 221–230. Silva-Laya, M., D’Angelo, N., García, E., Zúñiga, L., & Fernández, T. 2020. “Urban Poverty and Education. A Systematic Literature Review.” Educational Research Review 29: 100280. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.edurev.2019.05.002 Silver, Hilary. 1994. “Social Exclusion and Social Solidarity: Three Paradigms.” International Labor Review 133(5–6): 531–578. Simatele, Danny Mulala, Smangele Dlamini, and Nzalalemba Serge Kubanza. 2017. “From Informality to Formality: Perspectives on the Challenges of Integrating Solid Waste Management into the Urban Development and Planning Policy in Johannesburg, South Africa.” Habitat International 63: 122–130. Sitrin, Marina. 2012. Everyday Revolutions: Horizontalism and Autonomy in Argentina. Exeter: Swales and Willis Ltd. Smith, Gavin. 1989. Livelihood and Resistance: Peasants and the Politics of Land in Peru. Berkeley: University of California Press. Social Exclusion Unit. 2001. Improving UK Government Action to Reduce Social Exclusion. London: Office of the Deputy Prime Minster. Srinivas, Hari. 2005. “Defining Squatter Settlements.” Global Development Research Center. Accessed 12 November 2019. www.gdrc.org/uem/define-squatter.html.

References  227 Stacey, Paul, and Christian Lund. 2016. “In a State of Slum: Governance in an Informal Urban Settlement in Ghana.” The Journal of Modern African Studies 54(4): 591–615. Stanley, Janet, and Dianne Vella-Brodrick. 2009. “The Usefulness of Social Exclusion to Inform Social Policy in Transport.” Transport Policy 16(3): 90–96. Stein, Alfredo. 2008. “Critical Issues in Community Participation in Self-help Housing Programs: The Experience of FUNDASAL.” In Community Development in Theory and Practice: An International Reader, edited by Gary Craig, Keith Popple, and Mae Shaw, 204–217. Nottingham: Spokesman. Stitt, Mary, and Javier Auyero. 2018. “Drug Market Violence Comes Home: Three Sequential Pathways.” Social Forces 97(2): 823–840. Stoeckel, John, Akmal Chowdhury, and K. Aziz. 1972. “Out Migration from a Rural Area of Bangladesh.” Rural Society 37(2): 33–41. Suykens, Bert. 2015. “The Land that Disappeared: Forceful Occupation, Disputes and the Negotiation of Landlord Power in a Bangladeshi Bastee: Negotiating Landlord Power in a Bangladeshi Bastee.” Development and Change 46(3): 486–507. Tacoli, Cecilia, Gordon McGranahan, and David Satterthwaite. 2015. Urbanization, RuralUrban Migration and Urban Poverty. Working Paper, 1. London: Human Settlements Group, International Institute for Environment and Development. Taher, Nadia. 2001. “In the Shadow of Politics: US AID-Government of Egypt Relations and Urban Housing Intervention.” Environment and Urbanization 13(1): 61–76. Taufiq, Hossain Ahmed. 2021. “Role of NGOs in Fostering Equity and Social Inclusion in Cities of Bangladesh: The Case of Dhaka.” ArXiv. /abs/2107.13716. https://doi. org/10.48550/arXiv.2107.1371 Tellez, Juan Fernando, Erik Wibbels, and Anirudh Krishna. 2020. “Local Order, Policing, Bribes: Evidence from India.” World Politics 72(3): 377–422. Tipple, Graham, and Suzanne Speak. 2006. “Who is Homeless in Developing Countries? Differentiating between Inadequately Housed and Homeless People.” International Development Planning Review 28(1): 57–84. Torres, Izabel. 2012. “Branding Slums: A Community-driven Strategy for Urban ­Inclusion in Rio de Janeiro.” Journal of Place Management and Development 5(3): 198–211. Tsing, Anna. 1999. “Becoming a Tribal Elder, and Other Green Development Fantasies.” In Transforming the Indonesian Uplands: Marginality, Power and Production, edited by Tania Murray Li, 159–202. Amsterdam: Harwood Academic Press. Tsujita, Yuko. 2011. “The Implications of Migration and Schooling for Urban Education Disparity: A Study of Delhi Slum Children.” In Inclusiveness in India: A Strategy for Growth and Equality, edited by Shigemochi Hirashima, Hisaya Oda, and Yuko Tsujita, 136–171. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Uddin, Sayed Mohammad Nazim, Jutta Gutberlet, Anahita Ramezani, and Sayed Mohammad Nasiruddin. 2020. “Experiencing the Everyday of Waste Pickers: A Sustainable Livelihoods and Health Assessment in Dhaka city, Bangladesh.” Journal of International Development 32(6): 833–853. Umar, Badruddin. 1989. Samorik Shashon o Bangladesher Rajniti [Military Rules and Politics of Bangladesh]. Dhaka: Pratik Prakashona Songstha. UN-Habitat (United Nations Human Settlements Programme). 2003. The Challenge of Slums: Global Report on Human Settlements. London: Earthscan. UN (United Nations).1995. Program of Action of the World Summit for Social Development. New York: United Nations. Accessed 15 February 2019. http://www.un.org/esa/socdev/ wssd/index.html.

228 References UN (United Nations). 2015. The Millennium Development Goals Report. New York: United Nations. Van de Walle, Nicolas. 2007. “Meet the New Boss, Same as the Old Boss? The Evolution of Political Clientelism in Africa.” In Patrons, Clients and Policies: Patterns of Democratic Accountability and Political Competition, edited by Herbert Kitschelt and Steven ­Wilkinson, 50–68. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Van Gent, Wouter, Sako Musterd, and Wim Ostendorf. 2009. “Bridging the Social Divide? Reflections of Current Dutch Neighborhood Policy.” Journal of Housing and the Built Environment 24(3): 357–368. van Holm, E. J. 2019. “Unequal Cities, Unequal Participation: The Effect of Income ­Inequality on Civic Engagement.” The American Review of Public Administration 49(2): 135–144. Verba, Sidney, Norman H. Nie, Ana Barbic, Galen Irwin, Henk Molleman, and Goldie Shabad. 1973. “The Modes of Participation: Continuities in Research.” Comparative Political Studies 6(2): 235–250. Vranken, Jan, Pascal De Decker, and Inge Van Nieuwenhuyze. 2003. Social Inclusion, Urban Governance and Sustainability: Towards a Conceptual Framework for the Urban Governance. Social Inclusion and Sustainability (UGIS) Research Project. UGIS Collection 1. Antwerp: Garant-Uitgevers Company. Wenger, Etienne. 1998. Communities of Practice: Learning, Meaning and Identity. ­Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Whiteley, Paul. 2012. Political Participation in Britain: The Decline and Revival of Civic Culture. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Williams, Martin. 2017. “The Political Economy of Unfinished Development Projects: Corruption, Clientelism, or Collective Choice?” American Political Science Review 11(4): 705–723. Wilson, Stuart. 2011. “Planning for Inclusion in South Africa: The State’s Duty to Prevent Homelessness and the Potential of ‘Meaningful Engagement.’” Urban Forum 22(3): 265–282. Wolf, Eric. 1999. Envisioning Power: Ideologies, Dominance and Crisis. Berkeley: University of California Press. Wood, Geoffrey. 2003. “Staying Secure, Staying Poor: The ‘Faustian Bargain.’” World Development 31(3): 455–471. World Bank. 2007. Bangladesh Dhaka: Improving Living Conditions for the Urban Poor. Bangladesh Development Series, 17. Dhaka: The World Bank. World Bank. 2009. Reshaping Economic Geography. World Bank Report. Washington, DC: The World Bank. World Bank. 2018. Health and Nutrition in Urban Bangladesh: Social Determinants and Health Sector Governance. Direction in Development-Human Development. Washington, DC: The World Bank. World Population Review. 2021. World Population by Country. Accessed 25 November 2021. worldpopulationreview.com. Wratten, Ellen. 1995. “Conceptualizing Urban Poverty.” Environment and Urbanization 7(1): 11–38. Zhang, Yue. 2018. “The Credibility of Slums: Informal Housing and Urban Governance in India.” Land Use Policy 79: 876–890. Zwarteveen, Margareet, and Nita Neupane. 1996. Free Riders or Victims: Women’s NonParticipation in Irrigation Management in Nepal’s Chhattis Mauja Irrigation Scheme. Research Report, 7. Colombo: International Irrigation Management Institutes.

Index

Note: Bold page numbers refer to tables; italic page numbers refer to figures and page numbers followed by “n” denote endnotes. Aasland, Aadne 28 Abers, Rebecca 37 access: to education 143–150; to employment 150–158; to housing 1, 17, 19, 29, 33, 74, 98, 101, 131, 205 active society 25, 26 adult education 149–150 affordability: in BRP 81–82, 102, 104, 110, 124, 127, 145–146; housing inclusion 81–83; in Korail 81–84, 102, 104 Ahmed, Akhter 163 Ahmed, Shafiul Azim 65 Ain-O-Salish Kendro (ASK) 184–185 Ali, Syed Mansoor 65 AlSayyad, Nezar 41, 43 Ang, Yuen 35 Appadurai, Arjun 29, 34, 36, 42 Asian Development Bank 65, 107 Atkinson, Rowland 32 authorities, lawsuits against 183–184 Awami League (AL) 14, 56 Banani Model Town 69 Banani Thana Police 19 Bangladesh 56–58; administrative structure of government 58–59; central government planning for urban growth 61; Five-Year Plan 61–63; National Energy Policy 66; National Health Policy 66–67; national housing policy framework 63–65; national policies for education/employment 67–69; National Policy for Safe Water

Supply and Sanitation 65; National Urban Health Strategy 66–67; state agencies 69–72; urban policy in 61–63 Bangladesh Legal Aid and Services Trust (BLAST) 184–185 Bangladesh National Party (BNP) 8, 14–16, 57–58, 87, 121, 165 Bangladesh Rural Advancement Committee (BRAC) Maternity Center 139– 140, 145, 159, 184 Banks, Nicola 32, 35, 61, 207 Baridhara Diplomatic Zone 69 bazaars: as place for political-economic exchange 12–16; as place for socio-cultural exchange 12–16 bazaar somiti (market association) 16, 121, 122 Beall, Jo 30 Begum, Sharifa 142 Bengal Act-III 53 Bengal Municipal Act 53–54 Benit-Gbaffou, Claire 38 Bhashantek: as informal neighborhood 6, 8, 17, 75, 78, 183–184; lawsuit in 185–186 Boro flats (larger flats) 75 Bosti basir (slum dwellers) flats 75 British Colonial period 52–54 British East India Company 52–53 BRP: collective action and protests 189–198; community participation 188–189; government-sponsored housing project 6–10, 7, 9; lawsuits in 186–198; powerful actors in 14 Building Construction Act 69

230 Index Cameron, Stuart James 68 Castells, Manuel 40 Chabal, Patrick 38 Chae, Suhong 32, 40 Chambers, Robert 36 Chatterjee, Partha 32–34, 161 child labor 21, 67–68, 143, 149, 154, 157, 159, 204 Child Labor Elimination Policy 68 children: primary level 144–146; secondary level 146–149 Choguill, Charles 36–37 “Choto (small) flats” 75 Cities Alliance 45 citizenship 1, 20, 25–27, 47, 74, 78, 97–98, 178–179; formal 28; and inclusion 33, 131, 161, 200, 205; rights and responsibilities of 27; urban 31, 33, 35–36, 104, 198–199 civil society 12, 20, 28, 32, 36, 37, 67, 98, 191, 193 clientelism 20, 38–39, 41, 49, 165, 200, 206–207 Clive, Robert 52 Cloward, Richard 32 coexistence, inclusion/exclusion 30 Cohen, Barney 45 collective action 189–198 collective protests 40–44, 189–198 Colvin, Christopher 32 Commins, Patrick 26 commission-based businesses 170 Community Based Organizations (CBOs) 12, 16–17, 32, 37, 62, 63, 73, 131n1, 162, 169, 188, 199, 206 Community Development Committee (CDC) 37 Community Health Workers (CHWs) 140–142 community participation 36–37, 188–189 cooking gas 3, 104, 124, 124–131, 125, 128, 183, 205 Covid-19 145, 179 culture of patriarchy 98–101 culture of poverty 33 Daloz, Jean-Pascal 38 Das, Veena 33, 131 Dattapara resettlement project 69 Dawes, Charles 53 De Soto, Hernando 41 Dhaka: administrative structure of Bangladesh government 58–59;

after independence 56–58; backdrop of 2–4; Bangladesh period 56–58; British Colonial period 52–54; central government 59; central government planning for urban growth 61; Dhaka Metropolitan Development Plan (DMDP) 63, 65; Dhaka North City Corporation (DNCC) 60–61; Five-Year Plan 61–63; historical background 49–50; National Energy Policy 66; National Health Policy 66–67; national housing policy framework 63–65; national policies for education and employment 67–69; National Policy for Safe Water Supply and Sanitation 65; National Urban Health Strategy 66–67; Pakistan period 54–56; pre-Colonial period 50–52; state agencies 69–72; urbanization of 49–50; urban local government 59–60; urban policy in Bangladesh 61–63 Dhaka City Corporation (DCC) 57, 190 Dhaka City Protection Embankment 70 Dhaka Electric Supply Company Limited (DESCO) 71–72, 119–124, 162, 170, 180, 188, 197 Dhaka Improvement Trust (DIT) 55 Dhaka Medical College Hospital (DMCH) 134–137 Dhaka Metropolitan Development Plan (DMDP) 63, 65 Dhaka Metropolitan Police (DMP) 169, 178, 188, 191 Dhaka North City Corporation (DNCC) 60–61, 79, 85, 91, 113, 116–118, 136, 157, 162, 165, 169, 174, 177– 178, 180, 182–183, 188, 190, 205 Dhaka Sanitation Improvement Project 71 Dhaka Sewerage Master Plan (2011) 71 Dhaka South City Corporation (DSCC) 60, 190 Dhaka Water Supply and Sewerage Authority (DWASA) 59, 70–71, 73, 105–113, 118, 162, 178, 199, 203, 206 diversity: economic 82; and inclusion 201–205 Domestic Workers Protection Welfare Policy 68 dual society 26

Index  231 Dustha Sasthya KendraHealth Service for Distressed People (DSK) 106–108, 178, 184 economic: diversity 82; exclusion 156–158; inclusion 156–158; integration 26 education: access to 143–150; adult education 149–150; primary level 144–146; primary level children 144–146; secondary level 146–149; secondary level children 146–149 Ekdale, Brian 3 election 8, 15, 18–19, 32, 34–35, 55–60, 106–107, 179–183 election campaign 174–183 electricity 118–124, 120 embedded 26, 30, 210; cultural embeddedness 34; inclusion and exclusion 4, 30 employment: access to 150–158; economic inclusion and exclusion 156–158; types of 150–156, 151 entitlement 2–4, 11, 21, 27, 31, 44, 131, 183, 205, 206 environmental pollution 118 Ershad, General Hussain Muhammad 14–15, 57–58, 175 Ershad, Hussain Muhammad 57–58 essential utilities, inclusion in 202–203 ethnographic design 17–19 eve-teasing 73n2 exclusion 1; conceptual discussion 24–30; defined 3; economic 156–158; obstacles to inclusion 27–30 external political actors 168–169 Ferguson, James 38 Fernandes, Edesio 46, 101 Five-Year Plan 61–63; Fifth Five-Year Plan (1998–2002) 62; First Five-Year Plan (1973–1978) 61; Fourth FiveYear Plan (1990–1995) 62; Second Five-Year Plan (1980–1985) 62; Seventh Five-Year Plan (2016– 2020) 62; Sixth Five-Year Plan (2011–2015) 62; Third Five-Year Plan (1985–1990) 62; urban policy in Bangladesh 61–63 floating 33, 91 Flotten, Tone 28 formality 41–44 formal utility access, informalization of 104–131

Geddes, Patrick 54 Ghertner, Asher 33 “Ghore Fera” (back to home) program 65 Giddens, Anthony 28 Gilbert, Alan 46 Glenn, Evelyn Nakano 26 globalization 1 Gulshan Model Town 69 Gupta, Akhil 42 Hanif, Mohammad 57 Haque, Munshi Shafiul 69 Harriss, John 40 Hart, Keith 41 Harvey, David 32, 40 health/health care 1, 3, 133–139; adolescent 66; child 16, 66; environmental 33; facilities 20; NGO health services 139; private medical services 137–138; public 53, 61, 67, 114, 133, 137, 159; public health-care service 133–137; reproductive 16; traditional healers 138–139 Heyat, Farideh 42 Hohmann, Jessie 40, 46 Holston, James 34, 42 housing: obstacles to inclusion 97–101; owners 84–90; patterns of housing inclusion 75–84; tenants 90–97 housing inclusion 202; affordability 81–83; culture of patriarchy 98–101; legality 78–80; mass evictions 97–98; patterns of 75–84; stability of tenure 83–84 housing project: BRP (see BRP); government-sponsored 6–10, 7, 9; Korail neighborhood (see Korail neighborhood) inclusion 1; and citizenship 33, 131, 161, 200, 205; conceptual discussion 24–30; culture of patriarchy 98–101; and diversity 201–205; economic 156–158; in essential utilities 202–203; housing 75–84, 202; making space in the city 25– 27; mass evictions 97–98; obstacles to 27–30, 97–101; political 205– 210; in socio-economic services 203–205 informality 41–44 informalization of formal utility access 104–131

232 Index informal neighborhood 4–5, 34–36; accessing water in 71, 105; Bhashantek 6, 8, 17, 75, 78, 183–184; as illegal settlements 62; Korail neighborhood (see Korail neighborhood); large-scale 44; and NGOs and CBOs 16–17; patronclient relationships 38–39; political relations with 58; scattered 6; sewerage in 112–113 informal transaction 48 integration: civic 26; defined 26; economic 26; interpersonal 26; social 26, 28, 64 internal political actors 168 interpersonal integration 26 Jackson, Cecile 30 Jatio Party (JP) 14, 58 Kabeer, Naila 27 Kabir, Ahsanul 50 Khan, Ayub 55 Khan, Yahya 55–56 Kintrea, Keith 32 Koenig, Dolores 41, 44 Korail neighborhood 10–12, 11, 13; bazaars 12–16; Korail Awami League Committee 162; Korail Community-Policing committee 162, 169; Korail Development Committee 117, 162; lawsuit in 184–185; political structure of 16; powerful actors in 14 lawsuits: against the authorities 183–184; in Bhashantek 185–186; in BRP 186–198; in Korail 184–185 Leftwich, Adrian 31 legality: housing inclusion 78–80 Levitas, Ruth 28 Lewis, David 33–34 Lipu, Molla Shahadat 72 Liquefied Petroleum Gas (LPG) 125, 128 Lister, Ruth 27 Lund, Christian 42 Mahadevia, Darshini 37 making space 27 Manoshi project 139–143 Manoshi (Maa, Nobojatok O Shishu, or Mother, Newborn, and Children) project see Manoshi project mass evictions 97–98

Mastaans 11, 39, 57, 73n1, 79, 96, 108, 112, 121, 129, 162–165, 171–172, 202 material embodiments 33 Mayne, Alan 46 McKinsey & Company 37 Mehrotra, Rahul 43 microfinance 107, 159 Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) 66 Ministry of Energy and Mineral Resources 72 Ministry of Health and Family Welfare (MOHFW) 66, 133, 136 Ministry of Land (MOL) 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 14, 183, 185–187 Ministry of Local Government, Rural Development, and Cooperatives 70 Ministry of Science and Technology 10 mobilization 35, 40; political 40, 108, 199; urban-oriented 40 Mohit, Mohammed Abdul 63 Moreno-Jaimes, Carlos 40 Mughal Empire 50, 52 Nahiduzzaman, Khondokar 32, 63 Nakamura, Shohei 38, 44 Nathan, Mirza 50 National Child Labor Elimination Policy 68 National Labor Policy 68 National Occupational Health and Safety Policy 68 National Policies for Education and Employment 67–69 National Policy for Safe Water Supply and Sanitation 65 National Sanitation Strategy 65 National Skills Development Policy 68 Nawab Siraj-ud-Dawlah 52 neighborhoods 5–17; BRP (see BRP); informal (see informal neighborhood); Korail (see Korail neighborhood); poor 1–6, 17, 20, 22, 24, 27, 32, 40, 43, 45–47, 58, 62, 66–67, 71, 73, 116, 119, 124, 133, 136, 148, 161, 202, 205, 208 Nelson, Joan 31 Neupane, Nita 30 NGO health services 139 non-governmental organizations (NGOs) 5, 12, 14, 16–17, 20, 22, 36–37, 62– 66, 81–82, 85, 90–91, 95, 97, 98, 102, 108–109, 111–118, 130–145, 168–169, 185, 187–194

Index  233 North South Property Development Limited (NSPDL) 5–9, 14, 134, 149, 162, 166, 168, 174, 184–187, 194–195, 197–198 owners 84–90 Pakistan 54–56 Panday, Pranab Kumar 60 Parolin, Bruno 50 party politics 34–35, 174–183 Patel, Kamna 36–37 pathologies of the urban poor 33 patriarchy 98–101 patronage 35, 38–39, 54–55, 60, 96, 164, 166, 168, 199 patron-client relationships 38–39 patterns of housing inclusion 75–84 Perlman, Janice 34, 47 peronist party 42 Philip, Lorna 26 Pieke, Frank 41 Pierce, Gregory 40 Piper, Laurence 38 Piven, Frances Fox 32 political actions 174–184; election campaign 174–183; lawsuits against authorities 183–184; legal battles 183–184; party politics 174–183; voting 174–183 political actors: external 168–169; internal 168; and organizations 162–168; other important 169–174 political inclusion 205–210 political mobilization 40, 108, 199 political organizations 162–168 political participation 34–35; of urban poor 30–34 political parties 4, 14, 19, 34, 38–39, 42, 47, 57, 87, 106, 161, 163, 174, 178–179, 181, 200, 206 political society 32 political strategy 18, 24, 161, 183 politics: of blaming and naming 44–47; and power 205–210; power of urban poor 34; structure of Korail neighborhood 16; and theory of “slum” 44–47 poor neighborhoods 1–6, 17, 20, 22, 24, 27, 32, 40, 43, 45–47, 58, 62, 66–67, 71, 73, 116, 119, 124, 133, 136, 148, 161, 202, 205, 208 posters 175, 189, 191, 195 poverty 1, 32, 45, 104, 150

Poverty Reduction Action Plan 62 power: politics 87, 210; and politics 205– 210; voting 21 Pradhan, Rajendra 30 Primary Education Stipend Program 143 primary level children 144–146 private medical services 137–138 public health 53, 61, 67, 114, 133, 137, 159 public health-care service 133–137 public services see services Rahman, Mohammed Mahbubur 58 Rahman, Sheikh Mujibur 56–57 Rahman, Ziaur 57 Rajdhani Unnayan Kartripakkha (RAJUK) 8, 55, 63, 69–70 Rao, Vyjayanthi 47 Reaching Out-of-School Children (ROSC) project 146 refugee 33, 54 Renfrew, Daniel 33 right to the services 132–160 Roy, Ananya 42–43 sanitation 112–116, 113, 115 secondary level children 146–149 Sen, Amartya 29, 38, 133, 207 Sen, Binayak 142 services: access to education 143–150; access to employment 150–158; health care 133–139; Manoshi project 139–143; right to the 132– 160; socio-economic 203–205 Sheikh Hasina 57 Shucksmith, Mark 26 Simatele, Danny Mulala 33 Sitrin, Marina 35, 42–43 slum 44–47; defined 1, 46; as deprived urban settlement 46; derogatory stereotypes associated with 4; dwellers 4, 46–47, 209; politics of blaming and naming 44–47 Slum Development Department (SDD) 61 Slumdog Millionaire 1 Slum Improvement Programs 65 Smiling Sun Franchise Program 133 Smolka, Martin 46, 101 social integration 26, 28, 64 social movements 40–44 social networks 93–97 socio-economic services 131, 203–205, 209 socio-political networks 191

234 Index Srinivas, Hari 45 Stacey, Paul 42 Supreme Court 57–58 tenants 90–97; social networks 93–97 tenure, stability of 83–84 theory of “slum” 44–47 Titas Company 124 Titas Gas Transmission and Distribution Company Limited 72 traditional healers 138–139 Tsing, Anna 30 Tsujita, Yuko 32 UN-Habitat 47 UNICEF 61, 64 United Nations Center for Human Settlements 45 urban citizenship 31, 33, 35–36, 104, 198–199 urban ethnography 17–19 urbanization of Dhaka 49–50 urban-oriented mobilization 40 urban policy in Bangladesh 61–63 urban poor: political forces that exclude 31–34; political participation of 30–34; political power of 34 urban poverty 1, 32, 45, 104, 150 Urban Primary Health-Care (UPHC) Project 133–134, 137, 139 urban segregation 27

utilities: cooking gas 124, 124–129, 125, 128; electricity 118–124, 120; essential 202–203; gaining 129–131; inclusion in 202–203; sanitation 112–116, 113, 115; waste management 116, 116–118; water 105–112, 106, 108, 109, 110 Uttora Model Town 69 Van Gent, Wouter 26 voting 21, 34–35, 174–183 voting bank 18, 35, 38, 58, 163, 165, 166, 174, 175, 177–179, 191, 200, 206 Vranken, Jan 27 waste management 116, 116–118 water 105–112, 106, 108, 109, 110 Wenger, Etienne 44 Wilson, Stuart 3 Wolf, Eric 31 women: elite 54; housing inclusion for 98; Korail 12, 101, 151–155; Meratus 30; Nepalese 30; suffrage in Bengal 54; urban working poor 62 Wood, Geoffrey 39 World Bank 45, 65, 67, 71 Wratten, Ellen 32 Zhang, Yue 35 Zia, Khaleda 57 Zwarteveen, Margareet 30