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Dhaka’s desperate need for fresh air

 Dhaka was crowned with the title of one of the unhealthiest air qualities on the planet Earth. With an AQI score of 236 and PM2.5 levels 32 times higher than WHO guidelines, the city's air is not just polluted; it is poison wrapped in the guise of urban progress. Yet, the severity of this crisis seems to hang, much like the smog, in an atmosphere of apathy. Dhaka's descent into hazardous air quality has been decades in the making, fuelled by unchecked industrialisation, reckless urban sprawl, and a systemic failure to prioritise public health. What's most alarming, however, is not the severity of the problem but the sheer inertia in addressing it. 17 months after war broke out in April 2023, a crisis of devastating proportions is unfolding. People have faced, and continue to experience, horrific violence, mass displacement, critical levels of food insecurity, and a health system pushed to the brink.

 Dhaka was crowned with the title of one of the unhealthiest air qualities on the planet Earth. With an AQI score of 236 and PM2.5 levels 32 times higher than WHO guidelines, the city's air is not just polluted; it is poison wrapped in the guise of urban progress. Yet, the severity of this crisis seems to hang, much like the smog, in an atmosphere of apathy. Dhaka's descent into hazardous air quality has been decades in the making, fuelled by unchecked industrialisation, reckless urban sprawl, and a systemic failure to prioritise public health. What's most alarming, however, is not the severity of the problem but the sheer inertia in addressing it.

Let us start with the brick kilns, or silent assassins of Dhaka's air. They line the city's outskirts, belching smoke day and night, contributing nearly 58 percent of its particulate matter. For years, the government has mandated the adoption of cleaner technology like zigzag kilns, yet enforcement has been as flimsy as a stack of poorly fired bricks. Bangladesh can no longer afford half-measures. What if every illegal kiln were shut down within six months? What if subsidies were provided for modernising these operations, paired with stringent penalties for noncompliance? The technology exists, as do the success stories—India's rapid shift to cleaner kiln technologies serves as proof. 

 

Vehicles present the next gaping hole in our air quality management. Dhaka's streets are a playground for outdated, poorly maintained cars and diesel-run buses, all spewing black plumes of death into the atmosphere. Take Singapore, a city that once faced similar vehicular chaos. They enforced strict emission standards, introduced congestion pricing, and heavily subsidised public transport. A policy that incentivises electric vehicles and phases out old, polluting ones is no longer a luxury; it is a necessity. This is not about becoming Singapore—it is about realising that clean air is not negotiable. 

Then there's construction dust, an ever-present irritant that exacerbates an already dire situation. Any glance at a construction site in Dhaka tells the story: debris flying in every direction, no covers in sight, and zero accountability. Cities like Tokyo have tackled this by enforcing rigorous site regulations—requiring barriers, water sprays, and fines for noncompliance. Dhaka's construction industry must operate with the same discipline, because no skyscraper is worth the respiratory health of millions.