Abed's Luck: Vision, compassion, and tenacity in transforming development

I didn't plan a career in international development. After graduating, I joined Canadian University Service Overseas and went to West Africa to teach high school, planning to stay for two years. But one thing led to another and after four years, I realised that international development was my calling. In 1972, CARE offered me a job in Bangladesh, and I arrived in a country recovering from a cyclone and a war unlike anything I had ever experienced.

In Dhaka, I learned about BRAC, a new organisation with a small operation in Sylhet. Despite the presence of numerous international aid agencies, the concept of Bangladeshi NGOs was still new — a curiosity — but BRAC was starting to gain attention. By chance, at a Christmas party that year, I met Fazle Hasan Abed and his wife. I had no idea then what a profound impact this man and his work would have on me. And Bangladesh.

Following the cyclone and the war, Abed had left his job at Shell Oil to assist with relief efforts, but coming from a privileged background, he had not fully understood the severity of poverty or the systemic challenges facing rural Bangladesh. Once the urgency of relief work eased, Abed began to see that sustainable development could only be achieved by addressing the root causes of poverty.

Young and naïve, I knew absolutely nothing about any of this, or about Bangladesh. I was nevertheless tasked with managing a huge project with a budget ten times the size of BRAC. The Delta Housing Project aimed to build thousands of low-cost houses through cooperatives. The project, however — good looking on paper — failed miserably. The cooperatives were introduced too quickly, without any understanding of their problematic history. Project pacing was predicated entirely on the arrival of cement, and construction was timed not on the readiness of cooperative members, but to avoid the monsoon rains. Historically, time and again, cooperatives had failed, so it should not have surprised us that once the houses were built, ours too failed.

BRAC was different. Its staff were committed for the long term, focusing not only on immediate results but also on creating lasting change. Unlike me and my colleagues, BRAC staff spoke Bangla, understood the culture, and were there for the long haul. CARE staff arrived in white SUVs and speedboats; BRAC staff travelled by bus and bicycle, fitting better into the communities they served.

From Abed, I learned the importance of "unlearning." In its early years, BRAC adopted many of the approaches used by international organisations: "community development" based on adult literacy, clinics, and cooperatives. But Abed quickly saw that much of this was ineffective. Villages were not homogeneous; they comprised different groups and layers, and community-wide approaches often excluded the poor. 

He changed BRAC's focus to directly target the poorest, especially women, ensuring the benefits reached those who needed them most. This shift from a broad community development model to targeted poverty alleviation was key to BRAC's success and an important lesson worldwide.

Abed also recognised that a reliance on external funding was not sustainable. Over time, this led to the creation of social enterprises such as Aarong and BRAC Dairy, initiatives designed to generate surpluses that could be reinvested into BRAC's work.

In 1974, I left Bangladesh and helped establish a new Canadian NGO, Inter Pares, which focused on supporting local organisations, a fairly radical idea at the time. One of our first projects was a BRAC initiative. Through Inter Pares I became more familiar with BRAC, visiting Bangladesh often and spending time with Abed and his colleagues. I was continually impressed by BRAC's work, and I collaborated with them on designing a major expansion of the fledgling Non-Formal Primary Education (NFPE) programme.

Critics at the time argued that primary education was the government's responsibility. However, Abed believed that as long as the government failed to address high dropout rates and education for girls, BRAC had a role to play, not just to demonstrate a new approach, but to bridge the gap until the government could take over.

Another milestone was the establishment of BRAC Bank. Initially intended for BRAC's large microfinance operations, it faced considerable opposition before turning its attention to the all-important but much-ignored small and medium enterprise (SME) sector. This adaptability underscored Abed's tenacity, his adaptability and his commitment to creating meaningful and sustainable social enterprises for BRAC.

When BRAC expanded internationally, Abed recognised that its success in Bangladesh could not simply be copied elsewhere. For instance, in Tanzania, he observed how abundant land and low population density presented challenges very different from those in land-scarce Bangladesh. BRAC's core principles had to be carefully tailored to the unique context of each country it entered.

What truly set Abed apart was his compassion. He was quiet and contemplative, but his deep empathy was evident in everything he did. I never saw him flustered. He didn't jump from one idea to another; he invested time in thoroughly understanding and testing a concept before fully committing. But if it didn't work, he moved on. He wasn't interested in small, insignificant "pilot" projects. Scale was important. "Small is beautiful," he often said, but where deeply entrenched poverty is concerned, "big is necessary." Lasting, substantial change was his goal.

If BRAC had stopped growing in the 1980s, it would still have been a huge success. But Abed continued to innovate, introducing new ideas, growing the organization and expanding its impact. Outsiders often attribute his success to his experience at Shell Oil. I don't think that's it. Abed was not involved in the business side of Shell but his work in accounting did give him a strong grasp of finance and numbers, skills many NGOs lack. His time in the UK widened his horizon and honed his communication abilities.

Abed excelled at building relationships. When I asked him once about the secret to his success, he quoted Napoleon: "Give me generals who have luck." Abed believed he had been lucky, especially in finding the right people. But luck is about being ready, and being able to see an opportunity when it presents itself.  For example, when European milk subsidies changed, Abed saw an opportunity to expand BRAC's work with dairy farmers, improving their products and bringing them to urban areas for the first time.

Abed had a remarkable ability to identify individuals who shared his vision, passion, and compassion. His unwavering support for his team helped retain senior staff over the years. BRAC's continuity and the quality of its senior management were crucial to its long-term success.

I last met Abed in Ottawa just before Covid-19. He was in excellent health, enjoying life. Later, when his illness was diagnosed, he took the time to write, thanking me for my contributions, small as they were — a rare and touching gesture. Abed was a genuinely exceptional individual. Knowing him was a privilege and, looking back, I feel fortunate that we had him for as long as we did. Fazle Hasan Abed was a visionary whose leadership transformed development in Bangladesh and far beyond.

Ian Smillie is a development practitioner and author with over fifty years of experience in Africa and Asia. In his book Freedom from Want, he describes and analyzes BRAC's remarkable successes. A 2024 memoir, Under Development: A Journey Without Maps, concludes with a chapter entitled, "Abed."