Let’s do something instead of killing time, because time is quietly killing us.
Day dawns in Dhaka with its decaying fleet of rickety buses coughing fumes that vitiate our airways. We breathe poison as we commute on these rundown public transports, with their broken taillights, shattered windshields, unreliable brakes, malfunctioning engines, squeaky seats, worn-out joints, loose screws and bolts, and non-existent backlights.
Hardly a tenth of Dhakaites can afford private transport.
Air pollution, which has the most harmful effect on health, causes more than 159,000 premature deaths annually in Bangladesh. Breathing Dhaka’s air is considered equivalent to smoking 1.7 cigarettes per day.
On Sunday—when transport operators met a government adviser to demand, among other things, an increase in the economic lifespan of buses and trucks by five more years and a halt to impounding rickety ones—hapless commuters, who have long endured unsafe and unhealthy public transport, had little representation to protect their interests.
Prior to the meeting, the old transport lobby had already announced a wildcat 72-hour shutdown (set for August 12 to 15), yet they assured the meeting they were not there to press demands by holding the public hostage.
It was a great relief when they came out of the meeting smiling and called off the strike.
But the most disheartening and confusing part is that we, the passengers, will now probably have to endure unhealthy and unsafe commuting for the foreseeable future.
Is the government backtracking on its decision once again?
Ever since the now-ousted Awami League government was installed through the December 2008 elections, one of its key agendas was to free the country’s public transport sector from a cartel that had long resisted any tangible reforms.
By 2010, the government had asked the relevant regulatory body—in this case, the Bangladesh Road Transport Authority (BRTA)—to phase out all rundown buses and trucks operating well beyond their intended lifespan: 20 years for buses and minibuses, and 25 years for trucks and lorries.
What was initially thought to be a simple and rational decision remained unimplemented for the 16 long years that the AL was in power during its last tenure.
Thanks to the enormous clout the transport lobby enjoyed in those days, and its leverage over the government, it successfully thwarted multiple attempts to dump rundown public transport. The government appeared too weak to enforce its own declared decisions—time and again.
Unlike political governments of the past—who had beneficiary constituencies within the transport cartel—the current transitional government of Prof Yunus has no transport lobby to appease. They should be on the side of the commuters, who deserve a much better public transport system. The government should not yield to a section of transport owners’ illogical demands, such as extending the economic lifespan from 20 to 30 years.
But at Sunday’s meeting, the transport operators argued against impounding old vehicles, claiming that if it were done all at once, 80 percent of public transport would be withdrawn from the roads, causing hardship for commuters. From what we learned about the meeting, the government assured them it would not take an aggressive approach but would instead phase out old vehicles gradually.
Interestingly, the claim that 80 percent would go off the road if the law were enforced cannot be correct. Official figures show the country has between 300,000 and 400,000 buses, minibuses, trucks, vans, and tankers registered since the late 1980s. In a recent BRTA count, about 80,000 of these had already exceeded their 20- to 25-year economic lifespan.
Is it unjustified to dump old vehicles?
Is it unjustified to ban transport that has already far exceeded its economic lifespan?
Or is it unjustified to set the lifespan bar at 20 or 25 years?
The answer should be an emphatic NO.
Dhaka has been grappling with hazardous air pollution for years, with levels worsening in recent years, earning it the label of the city with the most polluted air in the world. It is common knowledge that older diesel- and petrol-fuelled vehicles contribute significantly to vehicular emissions, including fine particulate matter (PM2.5) and nitrogen oxides.
Switzerland-based IQAir, which monitors air quality in 124 cities worldwide, reported that Bangladesh’s average fine particulate (PM2.5) concentration in 2023 was 16 times the WHO annual air quality guideline value.
Though rundown public transport is just one part of our persistent pollution problem—others include brick kilns, construction dust, and industrial emissions—targeting high-emission, aged vehicles should be a priority.
Public health is compromised every day. Commuters, with no choice but to travel by rundown buses and minibuses, are exposed to air pollution, clouds of black smoke, and incessant honking.
Operating rickety vehicles is a recipe for disaster—it is a serious public safety and road safety concern. These vehicles often develop mechanical faults, including engine and brake failures, which cause fatal accidents. Roads in Bangladesh are already notorious for accidents and deaths, with rundown vehicles responsible for a large share.
Take Delhi, the national capital of India, as an example: the authorities there set a 10- to 15-year limit for the economic lifespan of public transport. Fuel stations are prohibited from refuelling vehicles that have already exceeded this limit. Automatic Number Plate Recognition (ANPR) cameras—capable of detecting overaged vehicles—are now installed at over 350 petrol stations across Delhi. Fuel stations must log all refuelling denials. Subsequent actions include vehicle impoundment, towing, and eventual scrapping.
Probably, this is a decisive moment for us—either we enforce the law and dump the rickety buses, or we allow public health and road safety to deteriorate further.
