Amidst the post-election optimism and the high hopes of returning Bangladesh to a stable democratic track, the country’s name has hogged global headlines once again for all the wrong reasons.
On March 24, the 2025 World Air Quality Report by Swiss-based IQAir revealed that Bangladesh was the world’s second most polluted country last year.
For those of us living here, the news is hardly a surprise. We experience the choking reality of shortness of breath and persistent respiratory distress daily.
Since IQAir began its flagship reporting in 2018, the air quality in Bangladesh has shown no meaningful improvement. Between 2018 and 2025, the nation has consistently ranked among the world’s worst, frequently claiming the top spot for toxic air.
To put this in perspective, the World Health Organization (WHO) sets a PM2.5 safety guideline of 5 µg/m³. These tiny particles -- 2.5 micrometers or less -- are small enough to enter the lungs and bloodstream, triggering heart disease, cancer, and permanent lung damage.
This year’s top five offenders were Pakistan (67.3 µg/m³), Bangladesh (66.1 µg/m³), Tajikistan, Chad, and the DR Congo. This means Bangladesh’s air is over 13 times higher than the WHO’s permissible limit.
While 91% of the 143 countries surveyed failed to meet WHO standards, our situation is uniquely dire. We must ask ourselves: What have we actually done as a nation to combat this suffocation?
An entire generation is being raised with asthma and chronic bronchitis during their most formative years. Beyond the physical toll of stroke and heart attacks, chronic exposure is causing permanent lung fibrosis.
Yet, our failure isn't due to a lack of policy -- it is a failure of political will.
Despite years of administrative orders and judicial interventions, our skyline remains thick with smoke from hundreds of illegal brick kilns.
Since 2010, dozens of decisions have been made to scrap the fleet of unfit, smoke-belching buses and trucks. Yet, they remain on the road, protected by a "nasty political economy" that prioritizes profit over public health.
The 2018-2025 period saw plenty of "big talk." We enacted the Air Pollution (Control) Rules 2022 and the National Air Quality Management Plan (2024-2030). We passed the Road Transport Act 2018 following massive student-led protests.
On paper, the roadmap exists. In reality, implementation is stagnant.
The occasional crackdown on brick kilns is often more of a public performance than a policy shift.
Media reports continue to highlight the nexus between illegal kiln operators and local administrations, as new brickfields continue to destroy farmlands and topsoil with total impunity.
Even the recent move to declare Savar a "degraded airshed" felt more like a PR exercise than a substantive intervention.
Most recently, in late 2024, the government set a six-month deadline to remove vehicles older than 20 years from Dhaka’s roads.
However, like the previous administration, the transitional government led by Prof Yunus appeared to back away from the move, leaving millions of commuters at the mercy of a ramshackle transport system.
While the National Board of Revenue (NBR) recently slashed import duties on air purifiers to 10%, a nation cannot breathe through filters alone.
To save a country on the brink of a health catastrophe, we need more than tax breaks -- we need the courage to enforce our own laws.
Reaz Ahmad is Editor, Dhaka Tribune.