Dhaka airport's Terminal-3, which had a soft launch in October 2023, has completed 99 percent of its construction, according to reports. The possibility of the completion of the remaining one percent of this billion-dollar project, requiring road and IT connectivity, tantalised us for over two years. Now we are told that the location is immune to mobile signals; they'll have to undo the ceiling décor to insert networking channels. How could we have overlooked such a vital issue for years? All the local and foreign experts and their collaborators combined could not yet make Terminal-3 operational.
The Humpty Dumpty undertone in the last line alludes to a similar historical failure. A much-vaunted heavy cannon mounted by the royalists on a church wall during the English Civil War tumbled down and cracked like eggshells when the parliamentarians damaged the base. A muffled poet could express his chuckle in rhyme using a coded language. The massive fiasco of our national airport thereby makes me resort to metaphors. So, I pose this question: how many of you have engaged in a game of Ludo, only to find yourself being "eaten" by the final large snake near the finish line?
Why does the news of parts of the freshly minted Terminal-3, still unravaged by the footfalls of passengers, needing to be demolished remind me of a game of Ludo? Come to think of it, the arrival of travellers at the airport has always been like a game of Ludo. Everything is subject to chance. Occasionally, you get unexpected help from here and there, like ladders on a Ludo board. Then there are the "snakes" all around. They come disguised as customs officials who will label your personal goods or gifts as commercial items and levy import duties to force you to come to a "mutual understanding." There are small snakes who will volunteer to write down the arrival forms of the incoming migrant workers and demand service charges in foreign currencies. The snakes will sometimes hiss behind you with their extended tissues when you are relieving yourself after a long flight. The pythons lie in the luggage handling areas and will crush open your suitcases to extract valuables.
How many times will we have to witness passengers wailing over the loss of personal items? In most cases, the poor migrant workers, ironically referred to as remittance heroes, are the primary targets who are considered easy prey. Could we consider installing software that scans the arrival and passenger information from the boarding pass? Could we explore alternatives to handwriting information that may be difficult to read, which then requires sorting by officials? I guess they cannot fully rely on the server and need a backup stack of paper copies. Could we consider having trained ushers and volunteers assist with writing down the disembarkation forms? It is painful that our bureaucracy remains incompatible with the global trend of digitalisation.
It is the same government that is busy discrediting the foreign handlers who have silently withdrawn from handling Terminal-3. The plan of the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA) managing airport services in the initial phase—while the Civil Aviation Authority of Bangladesh (CAAB) and Biman learn to transition to the world-class mindset required for running an international airport—seemed a no-brainer. It was a ladder for the transition that we were compelled to skip, and we fell right into the mouth of another snake on the board. A terminal that is 99 percent built but zero percent useful is not a national asset. It is a national metaphor. We are so close to being a world-class competitor, yet so far from it.
On the other side of the functional passenger terminals lies the cargo terminal. Anyone using the domestic airlines must have noticed the tangle of boxes filled with imported or about-to-export items. When the fire broke out at the cargo terminal months ago, we realised that "all was not well" in Uttara. The fire burned for hours, leading to numerous unsupported claims. There were machines for nuclear power projects, weapons for the army, and items that would help insurance scammers or bank defaulters. The fire halted flights for hours, but it did not stop our concerns regarding aviation safety, international shipments, possible foreign sabotage, and the integrity of secure zones. Just like the fire, the media was all ablaze for two days, and then all the news vanished. Our curiosity got smothered under the blanket of official silence. The smoke obscured yet another instance of our culture of crisis management through forgetfulness.
We find entertainment in low-level crimes, often overlooking high-level dysfunction. How valiant our authorities are, catching low-paid security personnel with mobile sets tucked in various pockets of their trousers or searching the pockets of cleaners for tips. These make for excellent social media victories but do nothing to disturb the deeply embedded syndicates whose roots stretch across agencies, contractors, and unofficial actors who thrive in the cracks of institutional weakness.
When can we have a serious reform of Bangladesh's aviation governance? Even a layman knows that too many agencies operate inside the airport: CAAB, Biman, customs, immigration, airport police, contractors, ground handlers, and freelance service workers. The outcome is a governance void in which everyone holds a nominal position of authority, but no one is truly held accountable. A similar dysfunction at the shipping port has created the need for foreign companies to take over handling and management charges. The persistent failure of the local service sector presents a dual challenge: it demonstrates that the sector's vested interests will prevent foreign operators from thriving in a cannibal culture. On the other hand, this presents a case for foreign operators to emerge as potential saviours. One does not need conspiracy theories to see the obvious: the local ground-handling sector is unable to meet basic operational standards, and the crisis of competence is now so glaring that any external alternative appears attractive.
Call me cynical, but when a system fails repeatedly and predictably, we reserve the right to suspect design, where authorities insist there are only accidents or stray incidents. What is required now is a complete overhaul of our mindset. Simply replacing one operator with another will not fix the airport's fundamental flaw. A shiny terminal does not make a modern airport. Maybe we will need some handholding and knowledge transfer at the initial stage to ensure efficient systems with trained staff and unified command structures. We need a passenger-centric governance to make the airport a welcoming place.
The Ludo metaphor can once again be useful. We need to advance slowly, square by square. We can make every improvement a ladder for the system: a new scanner, an imported trolley, a digital monitor, and a promise of cleanliness. Meanwhile, we need to avoid the snakes on the board: a connectivity dispute, a cargo fire, a bribery scandal, a foreign passenger humiliated, a viral video of lost luggage, a tout attacking a tourist, or a terminal that costs billions but cannot open. I hope the dice will provide us with the required number to reach home with the joy of winning a game.
Dr Shamsad Mortuza is a professor of English at Dhaka University.
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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