Every year, when global university rankings such as the QS or Times Higher Education (THE) rankings are released, they spark waves of excitement and debate around the world. In Bangladesh, these rankings receive widespread attention in both print and social media. Some celebrate, others express disappointment, and many engage in heated discussions. Universities that climb higher in the rankings celebrate with pride; their faculty and students feel vindicated, the government issues statements, and the media joins the chorus.
But when a university performs poorly, a counter-narrative emerges — that global rankings "don't really matter," or that "no other country makes such a fuss." Yet if these rankings truly had no significance, they would not evoke such emotion, pride, or frustration. Beneath this entire spectacle lies an essential question: what do these rankings actually measure, and why do they matter?
Broadly speaking, global rankings assess both research quality and teaching standards. Research quality is gauged through indicators such as publication output, citation impact, and international reputation. Teaching quality is evaluated through the faculty–student ratio, learning environment, and academic prestige.
The international character of a university is measured by the proportion of foreign students and faculty, while industry engagement is assessed through the volume of research collaborations and funding from the private sector. Finally, global reputation is shaped by surveys of academics and employers worldwide. While methodologies vary from one ranking system to another, all aim to provide a holistic picture of where a university stands on the global map.
Recently, the Times Higher Education (THE) World University Rankings 2026 have been released. Among over 150 Bangladeshi universities, not a single one appeared in the top 800. Five universities were ranked between 801 and 1000 — Dhaka University, Jahangirnagar University, and Gazipur Agricultural University among the public institutions; and North South University and Daffodil International University among the private ones. What is disappointing this year is that BUET, long considered the country's premier science and engineering institution, has fallen to the 1001–1200 range, alongside Rajshahi University, KUET, Bangladesh Agricultural University, BRAC University, and JUST.
Now let's look at some of our economic and regional peers. Ten years ago, no Vietnamese university ranked even within 1200. Today, one is in the 501–600 range, and two are between 601–800 — while Bangladesh has none. The key difference? Vietnam has consistently invested over 4% of its GDP in education and research for more than a decade, whereas Bangladesh spends only 1.6–2.1%. In Pakistan, one university ranks between 401–500, and eight between 601–800. In India, one ranks between 201–250, another between 351–400, and Jamia Millia Islamia between 401–500. It is worth noting that several top Indian institutes such as IIT Delhi, Bombay, Madras, Kanpur, Kharagpur, and Roorkee have boycotted THE rankings for years. Otherwise, they would likely occupy positions within the top 400.
Our real focus must be on building strong academic foundations — fostering rigorous research, creative teaching, intellectual freedom, and social responsibility. Once those pillars are strong, our ranking will naturally follow.
These comparisons with Vietnam, Pakistan, and India make one thing clear: Bangladesh has steadily fallen behind in both education and research.
It is worthwhile to analyse China's meteoric rise. Tsinghua University is now ranked 12th, Peking University 13th, and Fudan University 36th in the world. China's steady rise as an economic and geopolitical superpower is reflected in the parallel ascent of its universities. Given China's massive and consistent investment in education, its recruitment of world-class scholars, and its relentless pursuit of research excellence, that day seems not too far away.
The continued global dominance of the United States and the United Kingdom also rests heavily on their universities' excellence. The day Chinese universities match or surpass them in rankings will mark the day China becomes the world's leading superpower.
When it comes to Bangladesh, we have chosen the path of quantity over quality — an expansion driven more by illusion than intention. Sadly, Bangladesh tells a different story: once we had universities ranked among the top 600 in the world, but today, despite an explosion in the number of institutions, the overall quality has declined sharply. This reflects a fundamental policy failure: successive governments have prioritised expansion over excellence. The outcome is a system where quantity replaces quality — a model that ultimately drags a nation backward. Our infrastructure, governance, and even public morality all reflect this deterioration.
Education spending has fallen in tandem with this decline — and the correlation is unmistakable. Universities create people, and people build nations. But when universities fail to produce capable, ethical, and innovative citizens, the nation itself falters. Ironically, some policymakers seem pleased that Dhaka University has risen to the 801–1000 range from last year's 1001–1200 — as though this minimal gain were a national victory.
The big question is, why do rankings matter? For students, global rankings serve as a roadmap — showing where quality education and research thrive. For policymakers, they function as a performance index, highlighting how national institutions measure up to international standards and where improvements are needed. Top-ranked universities easily attract foreign students, research funding, and industrial partnerships — boosting both the economy and the country's global image. Rankings are, therefore, not just a matter of pride but of strategic national importance.
The next question is: What should we do? When the current government assumed power, I hoped it would seize the opportunity to set bold precedents: allocate 4–5% of GDP to education and research to ensure long-term commitment from future governments; establish two international-standard institutes — one in fundamental science and another in technology — staffed with world-class scholars from home and abroad, following the Chinese model. Regrettably, neither initiative materialised. This was a squandered opportunity — not just a disappointment to me, but to the entire nation.
Education, like water, flows better when there is a gradient — between teacher and student in knowledge, experience, and wisdom. When that gradient disappears, learning stagnates.
It is also true that global rankings are not without bias. Most indicators are still Anglocentric and Western-oriented, favouring large, research-heavy institutions in Europe and North America. Consequently, many universities in Asia, Africa, and Latin America — despite their profound contributions to local education and development — remain invisible in these tables.
Moreover, excessive obsession with rankings can distort academic priorities: universities begin chasing publication numbers instead of genuine research impact, or they invest in cosmetic reforms while neglecting deeper academic restructuring.
Rankings should be viewed as a tool for improvement, not as the ultimate verdict. The true measure of a university lies not only in numbers but also in its social role, cultural contribution, and commitment to nation-building.
For a country like Bangladesh, where higher education is expanding rapidly, global rankings can serve as an important benchmark for motivation, but they must never become the sole objective. Our real focus must be on building strong academic foundations — fostering rigorous research, creative teaching, intellectual freedom, and social responsibility. Once those pillars are strong, our ranking will naturally follow.
At the heart of this crisis lies the teacher shortage and quality gap. Out of approximately 16,800 university faculty members across more than 150 universities, only 6,400 hold PhDs. That means over 10,000 faculty members lack doctoral training. Can we then truly call all these institutions "universities"?
To teach undergraduate and postgraduate students effectively, teachers need not only advanced degrees but also years of research experience and maturity. Education, like water, flows better when there is a gradient — between teacher and student in knowledge, experience, and wisdom. When that gradient disappears, learning stagnates.
Another issue is cultural: in Bangladesh, many teachers consider earning a PhD the final milestone. Intellectual curiosity fades; administrative ambition takes over. Many vice-chancellors, pro-VCs, and deans today obtained their PhDs just 5–8 years ago — precisely the period they should be doing their best research. Instead, they chase positions, leaving classrooms and laboratories deprived.
Moreover, teachers waste enormous time managing dormitories or engaging in politics. If our students were truly self-disciplined, hall management could be delegated to staff and student bodies, freeing teachers for their real work — teaching and research.
Ethical erosion compounds the crisis. Some teachers who are lethargic in their own classrooms turn remarkably dynamic in private universities where they teach part-time for extra pay. When students witness this double standard, they lose respect for the profession itself.
Imagine, hypothetically, if within six months Bangladesh recruited 10,000 new PhD-level teachers, including 3,000 highly qualified international scholars. Would our students still need to go abroad for higher education? How much foreign currency could we save? How much "brain drain" could we prevent? The transformation would be revolutionary. To change a country, we must first change its people — and to change its people, we must change its teachers.
World university rankings are not merely lists; they are mirrors reflecting the strengths and weaknesses of a nation's higher education. Used wisely, they can inspire progress and excellence. But they are not an end in themselves. The true purpose of a university is to pursue knowledge, cultivate critical thinking, and serve society. Rankings only have meaning when they strengthen these intellectual and humanistic values — not when they distort them.
Dr Kamrul Hassan Mamun is a professor in the Department of Physics at Dhaka University. He can be reached at [email protected].
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