In 1991 Bangladesh shifted to democracy, a fashionable move that helped earn it the reputation of "Asia's rising star." At home American concepts of democracy and economic freedom have as little resonance with the Bangladesh psyche as they might have in the 18th century -- or, for that matter, the last millennium. PNS correspondent Andrew Robinson is a writer who has lived and worked in South Asia for several years.

DHAKA -- Overcrowded, flood-ravaged Bangladesh is making quite an international impact these days. Thanks to its positive GNP figures, open market policies and, above all, its fashionable shift to democracy and a free press in 1991, its earned the reputation of "Asia's rising star."

Everywhere, that is, but in Bangladesh.

Last week the country shut down for four days. Ninety-six hours of no business, no food for sale, no rickshaws, no free press. Sponsored by parties opposed to the ruling Bangladesh National Party (BNP), the strike marked the latest in a series of "hartals" (as strikes are known here) that have paralyzed Bangladesh for a year. The 96-hour shutdown was the longest in Bangladesh's history.

Yet that same week, U.S. congressman William Richardson officially praised Bangladesh for its "economic, social and political development over the last five years." In July the U.S. House of Representatives passed a resolution commending Bangladesh in the same way.

In fact, Parliament has not functioned in Bangladesh ever since most of its members began boycotting it in March, 1994. The economy has barely functioned in Bangladesh ever since opposition leader Sheikh Hasina began the hartals. For any visitor who has lived here even one week, this question is inevitable: who says democracy in Bangladesh was such a good idea?

"Why should I," asked a Bangladeshi rickshaw driver on February 3, 1988, when asked by a reporter from London's Daily Telegraph if he had voted in the elections that day. "Someone is bound to have done it for me."

The Daily Telegraph used this oft-quoted line to demonstrate the spurious nature of the elections under then President H.M. Ershad's dictatorship (with a subtle jab at dictatorships in general). But the newspaper missed the point. Elections in today's internationally approved Bangladesh -- if they are ever held -- may be more "free and fair" (less party hooliganism, less gun-pointing, more arbitrary press coverage), but the rickshaw drivers are as unlikely to make their own political decisions as they ever were.

Very few people in Bangladesh, after all, make their own political decisions. In a country where family dinners regularly mean food for 20, where the formal "sir" is added to the name of anyone who has resided on the planet longer than you (or who possesses more money), where the most valued decisions in life are those that prevent ostracism, shame and starvation in the future, independent thinking is simply not a part of the cultural milieu. In Bangladesh, the size of a political rally depends on how much money the sponsors pay for people to attend.

To vote in any democracy you have to be a certain age. Very few Bangladeshis have birthdays.

When the voter registration clerks visited my neighborhood to register voters, people were eager to sign up. A university professor helped a young housemaid fill out the form. When he asked her how old she was, she looked at him blankly and then smiled in embarrassment.

Most Bangladeshis, especially those from the villages (and 80 percent of Bangladesh's 120 million people live in villages) don't know when they were born. The professor and the voter registration clerk sized up the housemaid and wrote down "eighteen."

I've witnessed many such moments of democratic transparency -- moments when the international apotheosis of this starlet nation, so shiny, so democratically concerned (unless, of course, Islam is discussed), fades into nothingness. I've seen serious car accidents where the perpetrators have driven speedily away for fear of having their vehicles set afire by angry mobs while the victims lay unaided in the middle of a crowd of God-fearing onlookers. Last month a young girl was beaten unconscious by my next door neighbors for taking a bucket of water from their pond. Police were quickly deflected with payoffs.

Such democracy-shattering moments exist all over the world, in America as much as anywhere. But in Bangladesh democracy remains a foreign commodity, like Lux toilet soap or Celluwipes (a.k.a. kleenex). The government has always been out of touch with the common people. Today, with its fresh-from-the-box, imported democratic apparel, it seems to exist beyond even the realm of Bangladesh. The leading politicians, in their tireless effort to impress foreigners, to woo foreign investment, to do everything possible to look good in the international press, have abandoned their own people.

Everyone here knows that the common people are sick of the hartals. That people want to work. That what was once a nice vacation has become a terrible headache. To quote the rickshaw driver who regularly takes me to work (that is, when the country is working): "Forget politics. Forget voting. All we want is the money to feed our families."

American concepts of democracy and economic freedom have as much resonance in the Bangladeshi psyche of today as they might have in the 18th century. Or the last millennium.