WARS travel far and away. But, they do not arrive with tanks or missiles but with invoices. Somewhere in the Strait of Hormuz or the Levant, a tanker hesitates, insurance premiums rise and within weeks a country thousands of miles away starts rationing fuel, recalculates subsidies and quietly revises the arithmetic of survival. Bangladesh now lives through such a quiet invasion of costs.
When the energy minister says that the economy is ‘fighting fire’ every day, it is not a rhetorical excess. It is a precise description of a system trapped in a cycle where each policy decision resembles firefighting rather than planning. Flames are visible in the balance of payment, in the rising cost of power generation and in the fragile confidence of an economy so heavily dependent on energy import. The government has taken steps — some bold, some necessary — but most of them carry the unmistakable signature of short-termism. They extinguish the immediate blaze yet leave the forest dry and vulnerable.
The uncomfortable truth is that energy crisis is not merely a product of war. It is the outcome of a long-standing structural dependence that has now been exposed under geopolitical stress. Import reliance has always been a gamble, but it becomes dangerous when conflicts weaponises global supply chains. In such a world, energy is no longer a commodity. It is leverage.
This is why the comparison with Pakistan is so striking and, perhaps, a little unsettling. A country grappling with its own economic instability has managed in a few years to bring a substantial portion of its electricity demand under solar power. The figure is not merely statistics. It is a statement of intent. It reflects a strategic recognition that energy sovereignty is no longer optional. It is a requisite for economic stability.
Bangladesh, by contrast, presents a paradox. It possesses abundant solar potential, a rapidly growing industrial base, and a clear exposure to global energy shocks. Yet, its renewable energy share remains low. Even more paradoxical is the decline in the contribution of solar energy to the grid. This is not a technological lag. It is a policy failure that has accumulated over time.
Targets have been set with impressive ambition only to dissolve quietly into bureaucratic inertia. The 2008 policy goal of achieving 10 per cent renewable energy by 2021 now reads less like a missed target and more like a forgotten promise. Programmes have been announced, master plans drafted and projects approved; yet, implementation has repeatedly faltered. Investment has been deterred not by lack of opportunity, but by uncertainty. In the language of economics, Bangladesh does not suffer from resource constraints. It suffers from a credibility deficit.
The consequences of this deficit are now becoming visible. As the country struggles to arrange additional foreign exchange for energy import, the cost is not confined to the energy sector alone. It spills over to food prices, inflationary pressure and everyday calculations of households. Energy, in this sense, is not an input. It is a multiplier of vulnerabilities.
What makes renewable energy different is not just its environmental appeal, but its economic logic. Once infrastructure is in place, the marginal cost of production approaches zero. Sunlight does not require foreign exchange. It is immune from currency depreciation, shipping disruption and strategic calculations of distant powers. In an age of uncertainty, this is not only an advantage. It is resilience.
And yet, Bangladesh has managed to make even this sector uncertain. Policy reversals, cancelled approvals and inconsistent regulatory frameworks have eroded investor confidence to a point where even fresh tenders fail to attract interest. This is, perhaps, the most damaging aspect of the current situation. Capital is not inherently risk-averse, but it is predictability-seeking. When rules change midstream, payment guarantees remain ambiguous and fiscal incentives are absent, investment does not merely slow down. It withdraws.
The irony is that despite such obstacles, the private sector has shown a quiet willingness to adapt. Rooftop solar installations in the industrial sector have grown steadily, even in the absence of strong policy support. This suggests that the underlying economics are already favourable. What is missing is not demand but facilitation.
The issue of import duties illustrates this contradiction clearly. When solar panels and inverters are taxed heavily, the signal sent out to investors is confused. On one hand, renewable energy is declared a national priority. On the other, the cost of adopting it is artificially inflated. It is difficult to imagine a more effective way of discouraging transition.
Then, there is the perennial question of land. It is often cited as a constraint, but increasingly it appears to be more of an excuse than an insurmountable barrier. The possibilities of rooftop solar, floating solar and agro-voltaic systems challenge the conventional assumption that energy generation must compete with agriculture. In reality, the two can coexist. They can even complement each other. What is required is not more land, but more imagination.
The projection for demands only intensifies the urgency. With annual energy consumption rising steadily and peak demand expected to surge, the current trajectory is unsustainable. If the additional demand is met primarily through import, the pressure on foreign exchange reserves will become chronic. This is not a temporary crisis. It is a structural trap.
Breaking out of this trap requires more than incremental adjustments. It demands a rethinking of the entire energy strategy. The idea of a three-tier approach, combining rooftop solar, utility-scale projects and accessible financing, is not revolutionary. It is pragmatic. What gives it significance is its potential to decentralise energy production and reduce systemic vulnerability.
Financing, in this context, becomes crucial. For small and medium enterprises, access to credit can determine whether renewable energy remains an abstract possibility or becomes a reality. A streamlined funding mechanism, supported by the central bank, could transform the landscape. It would democratise energy transition, allowing it to move beyond large-scale projects into the fabric of everyday economic activity.
There is also an industrial dimension that remains under-explored. Encouraging the localisation of solar panel manufacturing could create a virtuous cycle. It would reduce import dependence, generate employment and lower costs. In a world where supply chains are increasingly politicised, domestic capacity is not just an economic asset. It is a strategic one.
Ultimately, the issue is not whether Bangladesh can transition towards renewable energy. The technical feasibility is already established. The economic rationale is increasingly undeniable. The real issue is whether it can align its policies with its ambition.
The government’s target of achieving 20 per cent renewable energy by 2030 is necessary and achievable. But targets, by themselves, do not generate electricity. They require consistency, coordination and a willingness to prioritise long-term stability over short-term expediency. There is a lesson to be drawn from the current crisis. Energy insecurity is not merely an economic problem. It is a governance problem. It reflects how decisions are made, risks are assessed and priorities are set.
The war in the Middle East may eventually subside as wars often do. Oil prices may stabilise, supply chains may recover and the immediate pressure may ease. But, if Bangladesh treats this moment as a temporary disruption rather than a structural warning, it will have learnt nothing.
The fires being fought today are real, but they are also symptomatic. The deep challenge lies in ensuring that the next crisis does not find the country equally exposed. Renewable energy, in this sense, is not about sustainability but about sovereignty. And sovereignty, unlike fuel, cannot be imported.
HM Nazmul Alam, a journalist and political analyst, teaches at IUBAT.
