Dhaka University is located at the heart of Dhaka, a city that stands by the Buriganga River with mostly northward expansion. Over the last 400 years, we have seen relatively little growth in the southern part of the town and the south bank of the river. The narrow alleys of Old Dhaka can be one contributing factor. The presence of some sensitive sites may also have stifled its growth. Dhaka University, initially spread across 600 acres of lush green Ramna, but later reduced to 275 acres in the last 100 years, is one such site. Together with the Pilkhana BDR compound and Azimpur graveyard, the university campus limits the scope of the city's expansion.

Compare the city map to a human face, and you'll see the campus near the jawline and neck. The university authority's recent decision to regulate traffic flow at all seven main entrances has brought the spatial issue back to the surface. But we need to be cautious in portraying Dhaka University as a mere physical space. It is the symbolic heart of Bangladesh. If it misses a beat, the whole nation feels it. If it beats too often, the entire body pulsates with energy and emotion. We have witnessed this phenomenon during various protests and uprisings. It is not an overstatement to suggest that every political movement that shaped the nation's consciousness has its origin in Dhaka University. As a living palimpsest with layered memories of the past, the university serves as an essential energy base that empowers individuals and creates a space for activism and intellectual rigour. Restricting the flow of the public into the campus, therefore, has both physical and symbolic consequences.

Prior to Victory Day, the university decided to limit campus mobility. Evidently, it prioritised self-protection over public accessibility. The exercise of autonomy by the university could potentially be detrimental to the public good. A group of teachers, representing the University Teachers' Network (UTN), recently met the vice-chancellor requesting him to reconsider the decision of blocking public thoroughfares. Engaging students to control traffic has further attenuated the situation. Newspapers and podcasts have reported on how students assisting the police force are constantly confronting passersby and preventing them from entering the campus. Their near-vigilante attitude has far-reaching consequences.

Let me begin by considering the concerns that led the administration to restrict mobility on campus. The presence of outsiders poses security challenges such as theft, harassment, accidents, crimes, substance abuse, and trespassing. Noise and overcrowding can disrupt the academic environment, hindering learning, research, and intellectual activities. Recently, permitting a mass rally in the nearby Suhrawardy Udyan made this particularly evident: punters virtually took over the entire campus, littering and urinating everywhere. The political tension persists, and it's impossible to ignore the fear of the ousted faction resuming its full fury on campus. The proctor says he must prioritise protecting his students. His statement pits the needs of a few (campus residents) against those of many (general public). As a state-funded university that hosts numerous city corporation-owned roads, the DU administration must adopt a more pragmatic approach when managing access to key public facilities. The campus houses Dhaka Medical College Hospital (DMCH) and skirts BIRDEM Hospital and BSMMU. It houses or is adjacent to two public academic centres (Bangla Academy and Shishu Academy), one vital research centre (Bangladesh Atomic Energy Commission), two national parks with historical significance, one public library, many schools and commercial centres, and access to a flyover leading to the national highway. There is no rational way the university can deny access to essential services for the sake of institutional convenience.

The restriction has forced many passengers to walk from the metro rail station or take a second ride to move through the campus. This is disproportionately affecting non-affluent citizens, leading to an increase in both travel time and cost. With so much focus on cars and rickshaws, there seems to be little control over pedestrians. On Thursday, thousands of former paramilitary men walked through the campus to gather at Shahbagh. And there were no stops for pedestrians. But the restriction barred access for patients in ambulances or passengers in cars and motorcycles from travelling. Despite possessing a DU car sticker, the slow identification and rerouting of unauthorised vehicles created a bottleneck, delaying me from approaching the checkpoint by almost an hour. I could see how the decision to divert traffic had led to public resentment.

Anyone who has read the comments on traffic alert groups on social media will notice a growing voice against the university's relocation from its current location to the outskirts of the city. People now associate DU with gated areas such as cantonments and housing societies due to its exclusionary policies.

What's even more dangerous is that the university has recruited student volunteers to serve as gatekeepers, who lack proper training in crowd management and proper gear to differentiate themselves from the general public. Heated exchanges with frustrated members of the public are becoming commonplace, which can easily spiral into violence. Some video footage shows students overstepping their authority. Their actions can damage the university's reputation and question the administration's leadership. Confrontational incidents involving students may result in legal challenges against the university. Some of the comments made by the students suggest that they see themselves as separate or superior to the general population. This can deepen social divisions and breed resentment among the public. If this situation persists, students run the risk of losing the solidarity and goodwill that they garnered during the July uprising.

Conversely, over-reliance on students for enforcing access policies suggests a failure of institutional governance. It signals that the university administration lacks the capacity to implement policies through proper channels, such as trained security personnel, advanced technology or infrastructure improvements. A confrontational dynamic between students and the public can lead to long-term polarisation, undermining the shared civic identity that DU symbolises. DU, being a university committed to sustainability, must place a high priority on inclusion. Students should not serve as gatekeepers for decentralised agencies of power that impose discipline and punishment on the public. Instead, it should portray itself as a democratic space that upholds the public's "right to the city" and not a privatised space that turns the campus into a contested and polarised site.

Since the problem concerns security, the solution lies in the employment of trained security teams for campus management. The university must hold stakeholders' meetings and devise strategies such as bypass roads, tunnels, and designated lanes for rickshaws, bikes, or cars to effectively manage traffic flow through the campus. DU must not lose its reputation as a civic space for organising public events and cultural programmes. While we must control access to sensitive or academic zones, we should maintain open access to areas such as hospitals, libraries, or museums. Dhaka University, I believe, has the intellectual acumen and pragmatism to balance safety with access and preserve the university's role as a shared, civic space.

Dr Shamsad Mortuza is professor of English at Dhaka University.

Views expressed in this article are the author's own.

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