M A Hossain

There’s a slow violence unraveling in the capital of Bangladesh—not through war or terrorism, but through every breath its people take. Dhaka, one of the most densely populated cities on Earth, is gasping—literally—for air. The city’s skies, once merely hazy in winter, have become a year-round cloak of poison. The air here 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 top three most polluted cities on the planet. On average, concentrations of PM2.5—fine particulate matter linked to lung cancer, strokes, and heart disease—are 16 to 20 times above the World Health Organization’s (WHO) safe limit. These aren’t just particles in the air. They’re particles in your bloodstream, in your children’s lungs, in the final diagnosis of thousands.The numbers alone are staggering; according to research by the Center for Research on Energy and Clean Air (CREA), approximately 102,456 premature deaths annually are attributed to air pollution in Bangladesh, 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 due to long-term exposure. For a country that prides itself on developmental gains in health, education, and industry, this is nothing short of a national betrayal.And let’s be blunt: this crisis isn’t happening in a vacuum. The culprits are visible, identifiable, and shamefully tolerated. Start with the vehicular mayhem. Dhaka’s roads are a chaotic symphony of aging diesel trucks, unregulated buses, and an army of two-stroke auto-rickshaws spewing acrid fumes. There’s 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 centuries-old technology that burns coal, wood, and even tires. These kilns alone contribute more than half of the city’s wintertime PM2.5 levels. Add to that the unchecked factories, construction dust, rampant open burning of garbage, and household biomass stoves, and what you have is an urban ecosystem built on the slow annihilation of its own inhabitants.The problem doesn’t stop at the city limits. Dhaka sits downwind of India’s industrial corridor in West Bengal, where pollution has its own rich pedigree. This transboundary 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’s 6% of GDP—roughly equivalent to what the country earns from its entire export-oriented garment industry. When the lungs of laborers in factories and construction sites are compromised, so is the engine of the economy.

Consider the paradox; Bangladesh is striving to transition to middle-income status, to attract foreign investment, to boost tourism. And yet, its capital city is becoming an emblem of urban unlivability. 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 laughable, and the political will 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.” The owners of polluting industries are not nameless oligarchs—they are often politically connected businesspeople, MPs, 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’re not novel. They’re not even prohibitively expensive. But they do require resolve.Start with a decisive plan to electrify public transportation. Dhaka’s bus fleets must be overhauled with electric and low-emission alternatives, ideally financed through green bonds or climate adaptation funds. Next, shutter and modernize every brick kiln within 50 kilometers of the city. Replace them with cleaner technologies like Hybrid Hoffman Kilns or move toward prefabricated materials altogether.Enforce emissions standards with real-time monitoring and transparent public dashboards. Create an independent environmental regulatory body that can’t be muscled by ministers or businessmen. And implement congestion pricing to limit vehicular density—something even Jakarta and Nairobi are experimenting with.Urban green spaces—parks, green belts, and vertical gardens—should be more than beautification projects. They’re carbon sinks, microclimate stabilizers, and public health interventions. Cities like Medellín in Colombia have pioneered “green corridors” with dramatic success. Dhaka can, too—if it chooses to.Yet the most underutilized 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 trash outside their homes, buy unregulated generators, or oppose minor taxes that could fund public transport.This silence must end. Civil society organizations, universities, journalists, religious leaders—everyone must rally around a shared truth: clean air is not a luxury. It is a right. And the abdication of this right by both state and citizen is not mere negligence—it is complicity.Bangladesh’s incumbent Chief Adviser often touts his environmental commitments in international forums, promising net-zero emissions and climate resilience. But those pledges ring hollow when the capital city is choking and little changes on the ground.It’s 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. Contain toxic Dhaka—or prepare to bury it, and ourselves, under the weight of our indifference.