A lot of people complain that Amar Desh, edited by Mahmudur Rahman, is not a serious newspaper. Some go further, saying that it barely qualifies as a newspaper at all. The accusation usually rests on the assumption that Amar Desh is a right-wing publication whose journalism falls short of conventional professional standards.

The criticism probably misunderstands what a newspaper like Amar Desh is designed to accomplish.

Not every newspaper operates according to the same definition of success. Some build their reputations through reporting and editorial independence. Others exist primarily to advance a political interpretation of events, consolidate an ideological constituency and influence public debate. Journalism is part of their operation, but not necessarily its organising principle.

In the United States, readers seeking authoritative reporting generally turn to The New York Times or The Washington Post. The New York Post and The Washington Times certainly occupy different positions in the media landscape. Both publish original reporting, sometimes substantial reporting, but their political identities are more central to how they are perceived and consumed.

Great Britain offers an even clearer example. The Daily Mail and Daily Express have built influential readerships around recognisable editorial positions, particularly on immigration and cultural politics. Their audiences often seek an interpretation of events consistent with their existing beliefs.

This does not make partisan journalism inherently worthless. Nor does ideological commitment automatically preclude good reporting. It simply means that the publication's relationship with its audience is different.

The Financial Times or The Guardian derive much of its authority from the reliability of its reporting. A partisan newspaper may derive its influence from the intensity of its political engagement. Both compete for attention, but they are selling different things.

Amar Desh belongs closer to the second category.

Mahmudur Rahman appears to understand the economics of this arrangement. A relatively modest newsroom, supplemented by a handful of capable journalists, can sustain a publication whose political influence exceeds what its editorial resources might ordinarily command. The return on investment is pretty good.

The newspaper does not need to compete with Bangladesh's leading publications across every reporting beat. It needs to remain visible and capable of provoking responses from people who matter.

Consider the strange advantage of a publication whose critics insist that it is not worth reading but nevertheless feel compelled to respond to its contents. If a senior government official interrupts official business to publicly denounce a newspaper article, the publication has already achieved something significant. It has converted a relatively inexpensive editorial intervention into a political event.

The official may believe that the response exposes the newspaper's deficiencies. The newspaper, meanwhile, receives publicity and confirmation of its ability to unsettle the political establishment.

This is an asymmetry of resources and attention. The newspaper invests relatively little; the state official invests considerably more. The resulting controversy increases the publication's visibility, regardless of whether the underlying reporting withstands scrutiny. For a publication whose primary currency is political relevance, the controversy itself can be an asset.

Amar Desh has demonstrated this capacity before. During the Shahbag movement in 2013, Mahmudur Rahman used the newspaper to articulate and amplify opposition to the movement, particularly among religious conservatives. Its coverage became part of a much larger struggle over political legitimacy and national identity.

The newspaper, in all good senses, was not simply describing that event, it was participating in it. And that probably helps explain its appeal. A partisan publication can function as an instrument of political mobilisation even when its journalism is contested. Its value to supporters lies partly in its willingness to articulate positions that they believe the mainstream press neglects or suppresses.

There are limits to this model. Sustained factual inaccuracies can destroy credibility beyond a publication's loyal constituency. Political influence is also no substitute for accountability. But neither problem necessarily prevents a partisan newspaper from remaining consequential.

The greater danger is indifference. Bangladesh has already witnessed what happens when a once-influential ideological newspaper loses its place in the national conversation.

Daily Inqilab was once a formidable presence in the country's conservative media landscape. Its editorial positions could provoke arguments, shape political conversations and put liberal publications on the defensive. Today, its interventions rarely generate comparable attention.

The newspaper still exists. But its ability to command the wider public's attention is diminished. That decline offers a more useful measure of the risks facing Amar Desh than the complaints of its critics. A publication can survive accusations of bias, sensationalism or poor journalism. It has a harder time surviving the loss of an audience willing to engage with it.

There is a related puzzle in Bangladesh's newspaper history. Explicit party mouthpieces, including Banglar Bani, Dinkaland Sangram, have generally struggled to establish influence beyond their political constituencies. More broadly partisan publications, such as Janakantha and Naya Diganta, have enjoyed greater success in reaching audiences outside formal party structures.

The difference may lie in the distance each maintains from its political sponsors. A party mouthpiece tells readers what an organisation thinks. A partisan newspaper offers them a broader political worldview, with enough editorial independence, variety and occasional unpredictability to remain interesting.

So Amar Desh’s long-term prospects depend less on persuading its critics that it meets their standards of journalism than on remaining indispensable to its intended audience and sufficiently consequential to attract attention beyond it. Criticism, even ridicule, can sustain that position. 

A newspaper may survive being called worthless. The real trouble begins when nobody considers it worth discussing.

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Nayel Rahman is a political analyst