In Dhaka, time is not measured in minutes, but in patience. For the frustrated commuter trapped at the Bijoy Sarani signal or inching through the chaos of Mohakhali, the concept of "development" often feels like a cruel joke. We see the concrete pillars of mega-projects rising above us, yet down on the asphalt, the traffic crawls at less than seven kilometres per hour — slower than a brisk walk. This stagnation is not merely a logistical failure; it is a profound political metaphor for a state that has historically prioritised the hardware of construction over the software of governance.

As Bangladesh heads to the polls on February 12, 2026, the air is thick with the dust of campaigning and the noise of promises. But for the dizzied voter, the election boils down to a simple, visceral question: can any of these parties actually get us moving? An analysis of the manifestos reveals that the transport syndicates — the invisible network of extortion and fragmented authority — remain the greatest challenge to any incoming government.

The illusion of progress: Moving beyond the concrete

For over a decade, Bangladesh has followed a "flyover-first" philosophy. The skyline has been pierced by the Metro Rail and elevated expressways, touted as the harbingers of a modern nation. However, urban planners and civil society observers have long warned that this was a strategic error. In a dense, unplanned metropolis where roads constitute only 7% of the surface area, building vertical infrastructure for private cars does not solve congestion; it merely relocates the bottleneck to the next exit ramp.

The problem with these capital-intensive projects is that they were often designed for visibility rather than basic utility. We have gleaming bridges that lead into choked, two-lane alleys because the agencies responsible for the bridge do not talk to the agencies responsible for the alley. This election is a referendum on this "concrete illusion". Do we continue with expensive, debt-heavy hardware, or do we finally pivot to the unglamorous, foundational work of managing the streets we already have?

Three dreams, one reality

The three primary political forces have offered distinct roadmaps, but each must be measured against the same unforgiving reality of our current road culture:

The dream of speed (BNP): The Bangladesh Nationalist Party promises high-speed bullet trains to zip us from Dhaka to Chittagong in an hour. It is a seductive vision of leapfrogging our terrestrial mess. However, at a potential cost of $12 billion, we must ask: will this solve the daily gridlock in Mirpur or Motijheel? Without fixing the chaotic bus system on the ground, high-tech solutions risk becoming "white elephants", serving an elite few while the majority remain stuck in the mud.

The dream of integrity (Jamaat-e-Islami): The Jamaat-e-Islami alliance emphasises "Governance based on Justice" (Insaf), pledging "honest leadership" to cleanse the regulatory bodies of corruption. It is a powerful narrative, but moral uprightness alone cannot fix a traffic signal engineering failure. Honesty is the essential foundation, but a functional road network requires technical depth and a departure from "reactive administration" — where action is taken only after a tragedy sparks public outrage.

The dream of structure (NCP): The student-led National Citizen Party proposes a "Second Republic" that dismantles the syndicates through a "Single Transport Authority", similar to London’s TfL. While this is the most technically sound solution, it is also the most politically dangerous. It requires a direct confrontation with the powerful forces that mobilise voters and fund campaigns.

The politics of fear: Why reform stalls

We must address the "Billion Taka Elephant" that keeps politicians awake at night: the fear of the street. Research by Transparency International Bangladesh suggests that the private bus sector pays over BDT 1,000 crore annually in institutionalised chandabaji (extortion). This is a parallel tax system that governs our neighbourhoods with iron-clad authority.

Many public leaders are privately terrified of proposing structural changes — such as banning unfit vehicles or restructuring routes — because they know these actions can trigger a transport strike that paralyses the nation. For a reform to be technically sound, it must also be politically survivable.

Any successful intervention must proactively engage and pre-empt the stakeholders whose livelihoods or interests might be affected by the intervention. This means addressing potential resistance through rigorous awareness campaigns, transparent negotiation, and collaborative problem-solving so that stakeholders are brought on board before an intervention is launched. We need a "Social Safety Net for the Street" — integrating current operators and drivers into the new system or providing mitigation packages to prevent them from taking to the streets in protest. No politician has yet indicated a willingness to undertake this messy, human work of reform.

Groundwork for a moving nation: The BTTF Taskforce Model

To move forward, the next government must establish a National Transport Reform Taskforce. This is not a soft suggestion; it is the mandatory groundwork for any of the manifesto promises to succeed:

1. Integrated Taskforce (PMO Level): Currently, transport governance is fragmented. The police manage traffic, the regulator handles licences, and City Corporations fix sidewalks. None talk to each other. We need a taskforce housed in the Prime Minister’s Office to cut across these silos, including Home Affairs, Health (for trauma care), and Education (for awareness).
2. Professionalised enforcement: We need a dedicated traffic enforcement force — permanent, highly trained, and insulated from political pressure. Rotating general police into traffic duty lacks the continuity needed to enforce lane discipline against VIP motorcades and syndicate buses alike.
3. Institutional reconstruction: Our national regulatory body must be completely overhauled. While driving tests and vehicle inspections naturally require a physical presence, the entire administrative cycle — from application and fee payment to appointment scheduling — must be digitised. By removing human discretion from the paperwork and automating the backend, we can eliminate the "broker" (dalal) system that currently thrives in the gaps of our manual processes.
4. The Road Safety Dashboard: To build trust, reform must be visible. We need a transparent, real-time public portal showing progress against Key Performance Indicators (KPIs). A visible "Transport Health Index" would allow citizens to track whether a government is actually delivering or merely printing flyers.

A new road culture

Beyond policy, we need a transformation of our "road culture." Currently, our roads reflect a culture of aggression and impunity. A new road culture means yielding to ambulances, honouring pedestrian crossings, and treating a rickshaw driver with the same dignity as a CEO.

When the powerful break traffic rules without consequence, it sends a message that the law is optional. If the "July Charter" is to mean anything, it must mean that the law applies to the Land Cruiser as much as it does to the bus. This requires leadership not just from the government, but also from religious institutions, schools, and the media.

The verdict of the road

So, where does this leave the voter? We are caught between the allure of high-speed dreams, the promise of moral cleansing, and the structural overhaul proposed by the youth. We must ask: are we ready to support a leader who might face a month-long transport strike to break the syndicates? Are we ready to prioritise a bus that runs on time over a flyover that looks good in photos?

Every fatal crash is not just an accident; it is an indictment. The true test of the next government will not be the inauguration of another mega-project. It will be the day a commuter can travel from Uttara to Motijheel without fearing for their life, without losing three hours of their day, and without paying a bribe.

On February 12, we will cast our votes. But the real result will be measured in the weeks that follow, on the dusty, noisy, gridlocked pavement. If the new government can fix the traffic, it can fix the nation. Until then, we remain — quite literally — stuck.

Sajedul Hoq is a development practitioner and the President of Bangladesh Traffic & Transport Forum. He can be reached at [email protected].

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