THERE is a slow violence unravelling in the capital — not through war or terrorism but through every breath that people take. Dhaka, one of the most densely populated cities in the world, is gasping, literally, for air. The city’s sky, once merely hazy in winter, has become a year-round cloak of poison. The air is not just unhealthy. It is a weapon of mass disablement. And unlike in cases of war, there are no victors, only collateral damage, millions of them.
Air pollution in Dhaka is not a statistical quirk. It is a full-blown emergency. According to IQAir’s global index, Dhaka consistently ranks among the three most polluted cities. On average, the concentration of PM2.5, fine particulate matter linked to lung cancer, strokes, and heart diseases, are 16 to 20 times above the World Health Organization’s safe limit. These are not just particles in the air. They are particles in bloodstream, children’s lungs and the final diagnosis of thousands.
The numbers alone are staggering. According to research by the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air, about 102,456 premature death in Bangladesh annually are attributed to air pollution, the majority in its capital. The Centre for Atmospheric Pollution Studies projects that the average resident of Dhaka could lose nearly seven years of life because of long-term exposure. For a country that prides itself in developmental gains in health, education and industry, this is nothing short of a national betrayal.
This crisis is not happening in a vacuum. The culprits are visible, identifiable and shamefully tolerated, beginning with the vehicular mayhem. Roads in Dhaka roads are a chaotic symphony of ageing diesel trucks, unregulated buses and an army of two-stroke auto-rickshaws spewing acrid fumes. There is virtually no emissions testing. Catalytic converters might as well be mythical devices in this city.
Then there are the brick kilns, some 7,000 of them operating in and around the capital, many using century-old technology that burns coal, wood and, even, tyres. The kilns alone contribute more than a half of the city’s wintertime PM2.5 levels. Added to that the unchecked factories, construction dust, rampant open burning of garbage and household biomass stoves is an urban ecosystem built on the slow annihilation of its own inhabitants.
The problem does not stop at the city limits. Dhaka sits downwind of India’s industrial corridor in West Bengal, where pollution has its own rich pedigree. This trans-boundary smog, much like its regional geopolitics, respects no borders. Yet, regional cooperation on environmental health remains an afterthought in diplomatic agendas dominated by security and trade.
The human cost is devastating. So, too, is the economic toll. A World Bank report estimates that air pollution costs Bangladesh nearly $14 billion annually in lost productivity and healthcare expenses. That is 6 per cent of the gross domestic product, roughly equivalent to what the country earns from its entire export-oriented apparel industry. The lungs of labourers in factories and construction sites are compromised, so is the engine of the economy.
Bangladesh is striving to transition to a middle-income status to attract foreign investment and to boost tourism. And yet, its capital city is becoming an emblem of urban unliveability. Who would want to build a corporate headquarters, attend a conference or film a travel documentary in a city where stepping outside is a health hazard?
One might expect that faced with such existential threats, the government would respond with urgency. One would be wrong. Policies, where they exist, are often cosmetic. Yes, a few old vehicles have been phased out. Yes, there are seasonal crackdowns on brick kilns. But, the enforcement is episodic, the penalties are laughable and the political will is mostly absent.
This is a textbook case of what the American writer Upton Sinclair once observed: ‘It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it.’ Owners of polluting industries are not nameless oligarchs. They are often politically connected businesspeople, lawmakers, or patrons of ruling parties. Meanwhile, the urban poor, those with the least capacity to adapt, are the most exposed and the least heard.
Solutions exist. They are not novel. They are not even prohibitively expensive. But, they do require resolve.
It should begin with a decisive plan to electrify public transports. Dhaka’s bus fleets must be overhauled with electric and low-emissions alternatives, ideally financed through green bonds or climate adaptation funds. Next, every brick kiln within 50 kilometres of the city should be shuttered or modernised. Cleaner technologies such as hybrid Hoffman kilns should be in. It could also be a move towards prefabricated materials altogether.
Emissions standards with real-time monitoring and transparent public dashboards should be enforced. An independent environmental regulatory body that cannot be muscled by ministers or businessmen should be created. And congestion pricing should be implemented to limit vehicular density, which even Jakarta and Nairobi are experimenting with.
Urban green spaces, parks, green belts and vertical gardens, should be more than beautification projects. They are carbon sinks, microclimate stabilisers and public health interventions. Cities such as MedellÃn in Colombia have pioneered ‘green corridors’ with dramatic success. Dhaka can, too, if it chooses to.
Yet, the most underused lever in this crisis remains public pressure. The middle class of Dhaka, which once marched for language and democracy, now tolerates environmental disaster with barely a murmur. Many still burn rubbish outside their houses, buy unregulated generators or oppose minor taxes that could fund public transports.
This silence must end. Civil society organisations, universities, journalists and religious leaders must rally around a shared truth. Clean air is not a luxury. It is a right. And, the abdication of this right by both the state and citizens is not mere negligence; it is complicity.
The chief adviser often touts his environmental commitments in international forums, promising net-zero emissions and climate resilience. But the pledges ring hollow when the capital city is choking and little changes take place on the ground.
It is worth recalling the words of Robert Swan: ‘The greatest threat to our planet is the belief that someone else will save it.’ That belief, in Dhaka, is killing people.
The time for dithering is over. Dhaka does not need another feasibility study. It needs political courage, civic engagement and international cooperation. Otherwise, the city will not be a case study in development. It will be a cautionary tale in collapse.
Toxic Dhaka should be contained. Or, we should make preparations to bury it, and ourselves, under the weight of indifference.
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MA Hossain is a political and defence analyst.
