A political economy of urban planning failure
My 23-month-old son was born in Dhaka and is growing up here, in a city that has deprived him of almost every form of sociocultural association and of the natural environment essential to his physical growth and mental development. His everyday life is confined to walls, windows, doors, and digital screens. He has no place to walk, run, or play outside his home. He has no peers or older children to meet. Neither my wife nor I can find the time to take him to daycare centres or friends’ houses to socialise, nor can our friends or relatives come to our house with their children. He has never even seen a green space near his home. I used to take him out for a while each day, walking along the pavement beside a playground near our home, a ground so heavily used that hardly any grass or greenery remains.
This public playground, Balur Math in Lalbagh, is crowded with young people and adults at almost every hour. Footballs and cricket balls fly from every corner, dust obscures pedestrians’ view and settles over nearby buildings, and noise from the field and pavement carries across the whole area, loud enough to wake people even in closed bedrooms. The pavement itself is heavily crowded with street vendors, beggars, smokers, street singers, medical representatives, cyclists, motorcyclists, joggers, walkers, people chatting, passers-by, and children and infants accompanied by their parents or relatives.
By my own count over nearly three years, more than 5,000 people use the ground each day, 150,000 each month, and 1.8 million a year—unsurprising in one of the densest cities on the planet, where between 15,000 and 50,000 people live per square kilometre. It is one of the few places in Old Dhaka, home to more than five million people, where anyone can breathe in the open air, though that air is among the world’s most polluted. Local politicians used to rent this heavily fenced ground to sporting clubs and private organisations, restricting ordinary people’s access to a public space. Since the mass uprising of July 2024, when fences on several sides were torn down, public access has increased.
Balur Math in Lalbagh, on the edge of the densely built-up area of Old Dhaka. The photo was taken on 22 November 2024, while two sporting clubs were playing football.
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Balur Math in Lalbagh, on the edge of the densely built-up area of Old Dhaka. The photo was taken on 22 November 2024, while two sporting clubs were playing football.
My wife and I could find time for our toddler, and for ourselves, to meet other children and our neighbours if there were an open green space near our home, instead of densely packed apartment blocks containing hundreds of commercial premises: restaurants, hospitals, pharmacies, salons, schools, coaching centres, fitness centres, factories, banks, and community centres. Sudden fireworks and loud music from wedding and birthday parties at these community centres regularly shatter the quiet of the whole area at midnight, frightening residents, including children and elderly people.
This plot- and apartment-based urban life leaves little room for collectivity, reflecting an individualistic ‘urban clannism’ rather than a shared sense of ‘urbanism’.
Residential buildings in my moholla—not a neighbourhood in the usual sense—create a ‘vertical social space’, in which apartment dwellers know one another only well enough to say hello; an open green space beside those buildings would create a ‘horizontal social space’, in which residents would have a chance to meet and interact. This plot- and apartment-based urban life leaves little room for collectivity, reflecting an individualistic ‘urban clannism’ rather than a shared sense of ‘urbanism’. Like my family, millions of Dhaka’s residents are deprived of sociocultural capital and access to the natural environment, both of which are essential to a healthy upbringing and a healthy life.
The realities described above represent only the surface of life in what has been ranked the world’s third-worst city to live in, behind only two war-torn capitals, Damascus and Tripoli, and they raise a series of critical questions about Dhaka’s liveability and sustainability. Why did Bangladesh fail to plan its capital city? How did the state fail to implement city plans even when it had good ones at hand? Why did the state surrender its power to urban elites to make and remake its principal city? This piece answers these questions by tracing the history of urban planning failure, presenting empirical and archival evidence, and framing the idea of Dhaka’s slow—or sudden—death: in short, by identifying the political-economic factors behind that failure.
Over its 2,500-year history, Dhaka thrived, declined, and re-emerged four times within a 50-mile radius of its present location: Wari-Bateshwar (300 BCE–100 BCE), Vikrampur (100 BCE–1300 CE), Sonargaon (1338–1608 CE), and the present site of Dhaka since 1608 (Iqbal, I. (2013). First master plan for Dhaka city: An environmental exploration).
In the 1590s, Dhaka had nearly 3,000 people and covered an area of two square kilometres. In 1608, it became a Mughal provincial capital with a population of nearly 20,000. By the 1760s, its area had expanded to eight square kilometres and its population had passed 200,000, following the acquisition of the Diwani of Bengal. The population then shrank to nearly 20,000 as Calcutta took control of trade and administration. By 1872, it had risen again to 69,000, and by 1941 to 212,154, of whom 129,233 (61 per cent) were Hindus and 82,921 (39 per cent) were Muslims (Rahman, M. A. (2022). Dhaka before and after Partition).
A 1924 map of Dacca from A Handbook for Travellers in India, Burma and Ceylon (1:28,000), published by John Murray.
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A 1924 map of Dacca from A Handbook for Travellers in India, Burma and Ceylon (1:28,000), published by John Murray.
In 1947, the year of Partition, Dhaka expanded to 64.7 square kilometres, with a population of 300,000. By 1961, the city’s population had risen to 556,749: 506,059 Muslims (91 per cent) and 50,690 Hindus (9 per cent). In 1981, Dhaka expanded to 510 square kilometres under its first metropolitan status, achieved in 1978, and was home to three million people. After RAJUK, the capital development authority, was established in 1987, the Dhaka Metropolitan Area (DMA) expanded to 1,353 square kilometres. Today, the DMA’s population of more than 25 million (96 per cent Muslim and 2 per cent Hindu) lives within 1,528 square kilometres—an increase of nearly 8,233 per cent in population and more than 2,262 per cent in area since 1947.
Behind this growth lies little or no official documentation of planning before the late nineteenth century. In the 1880s, the British government implemented several plans to acquire land for railways and other administrative purposes in Dhaka, thereby diminishing the economic and social importance of rivers and canals (Iqbal, I. (2013). First master plan for Dhaka city: An environmental exploration).
Ramna Gate in 1901, near the site of present-day Doyel Chattar. Source: British Library.
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Ramna Gate in 1901, near the site of present-day Doyel Chattar. Source: British Library.
In 1917, however, the Scottish sociologist and town planner Sir Patrick Geddes drafted a master plan for Dhaka that emphasised the preservation of its natural canal network, then about 25 miles long, as well as its open spaces. Ramna Park and the Race Course were two places where greenery, water bodies, and open spaces were thoughtfully planned and preserved.
After Pakistan emerged as an independent nation, the country’s power elites remade Dhaka with little or no planning. In 1947, Hindus owned more than 85 per cent of the land and other immovable properties in Dhaka city (Guha, S. (1950). Non-Muslims Behind the Curtain of East Pakistan; Lambert, R. (1950). Religion, economics, and violence in Bengal: Background of the minorities agreement; Tan, T. Y. and Kudaisya, G. (2000). The Aftermath of Partition in South Asia).
Chowk Bazar, Dhaka, in 1885. Source: British Library.
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Chowk Bazar, Dhaka, in 1885. Source: British Library.
Between 1947 and 1950, however, many of Dhaka’s large Hindu landowners left their properties behind as they migrated to India. The Pakistani government then took over that land and designated it “abandoned property”. (It was relabelled “enemy property” after the India–Pakistan War of 1965 and has been known as “vested property” since 1971.)
A portion of it was used for government offices and residences. During the Pakistan period and afterwards, however, a large portion was transferred to power elites through a series of land-transfer laws: the East Bengal (Emergency) Requisition of Property Act (XIII of 1948), the East Bengal State Acquisition and Tenancy Act (1950), the Evacuees Acts of 1949–57, the Disturbed Persons Rehabilitation Ordinance of 1964, Order XXIII of 1965, the East Pakistan Enemy Property Administration and Disposal Order (1966), and the Continuance of Emergency Provisions Ordinance of 1969 (Barkat, A., Zaman, S., Khan, S., et al. (2008). Deprivation of Hindu Minority in Bangladesh; Feldman, S. (2016). The Hindu as other: State, law, and land relations in contemporary Bangladesh).
Anu Muhammad argued that the new bourgeoisie emerged in independent Bangladesh by “grabbing the abandoned landed wealth of Hindus and plundering the state’s resources” (Muhammad, A. (1992). Kotipoti, Moddybitya, Abong Shromik [The Millionaire, Middle Class, and Labour]).
These power elites followed a simple logic of land occupation: wherever a plot could be seized or leased, a building went up for business or residence—no matter where the plot lay or who owned it.
These power elites followed a simple logic of land occupation: wherever a plot could be seized or leased, a building went up for business or residence—no matter where the plot lay or who owned it. Plots were also used to establish informal commercial settlements, or slums, by bringing poor people in to live and work there. The city thus began growing plot by plot, in outright disregard of formal planning. Khaleed Ashraf (2012, Designing Dhaka: A Manifesto for a Better City), an architect and urban planner, makes a similar point: “Dhaka proceeds only with bursts of ad-hoc decisions”, growing as a “plotted settlement” through “wild urbanization” (Ashraf, K. K. (2012). Designing Dhaka: A Manifesto for a Better City; Barkat, A., Zaman, S., Khan, S., et al. (2008). Deprivation of Hindu Minority in Bangladesh).
Under the Dhaka Improvement Act of 1953, the Dhaka Improvement Trust (DIT) was formed in 1956 to plan and manage Dhaka. The DIT prepared the first master plan for Dhaka in 1959, covering 290 square miles. That plan focused on preserving natural water bodies, greenery, and open spaces. It proposed reserving 38.7 per cent of the DIT plan zone’s total land area for water bodies and 5.1 per cent for open spaces, as well as relocating the central jail (83 acres) and the old airport (500 acres) to northern Dhaka. Nothing was implemented, however: “Personal and vested interest within the DIT created a fertile ground for corruption at the expense of Dhaka’s urban planning regime, with grave implications for the post-war phases” (Iqbal, I. (2013). First master plan for Dhaka city: An environmental exploration).
The DIT also had well-developed plans in the 1960s for building residential housing, creating commercial spaces, and developing public infrastructure. One example was Dhanmondi, originally designed for two-storey, bungalow-style buildings with gardens. That plan was abandoned in the mid-1980s, and thousands of residential and commercial buildings subsequently mushroomed across the area. The DIT also continued the British colonial practice of retaining the cantonment (over 1,500 acres) and the East Pakistan Rifles (now Border Guard Bangladesh, 186 acres) in their existing locations, thereby impeding the development of any comprehensive master plan for the city (Iqbal, I. (2013). First master plan for Dhaka city: An environmental exploration).
Bangladesh became an independent nation in 1971 but took 24 years to produce its first master plan for Dhaka: the Dhaka Metropolitan Development Plan (DMDP) of 1995. The DMDP had three components: a Structure Plan, an Urban Area Plan, and a Detailed Area Plan (DAP). Only the DAP was gazetted by the government, in 2009, and no component of the DMDP was effectively implemented within the proposed timeline of 1995 to 2015. Before the DAP appeared, Dhaka had already become a city of chaos, with industrial facilities built haphazardly by the ready-made garment sector and informal industrialists, rampant housing projects undertaken by RAJUK, which had replaced the DIT, and unregulated residential and commercial developments built by individual landowners. In short, Dhaka grew almost entirely without order for more than 50 years, from 1947 to 2000.
Since the 2000s, we have seen several major urban plans for the Dhaka metropolitan area, including the draft National Urban Policies of 2006, 2011, and 2014; the Detailed Area Plan (2022–2035); the Second Perspective Plan 2021–2041; and the Bangladesh Delta Plan 2100.
There are also two major transport plans for greater Dhaka—the city plus Munshiganj, Gazipur, Manikganj, Narayanganj, and Narsingdi: the Strategic Transport Plan (STP) of 2005–2024 and the Revised Strategic Transport Plan (RSTP) of 2015–2035. The Dhaka Transport Coordination Authority (DTCA) drafted these with support from the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA). At least 18 ministries and 42 government agencies guide, implement, and monitor urban plans and development work in Bangladesh (The Seventh Five-Year Plan, 2016–2020). Urban researchers and practitioners argue, however, that “the lack of coordination and absence of interaction among these entities” are responsible for corrupt and illegal urbanisation in Dhaka. Little effective effort has gone into implementing any of these plans, and the result is the disastrous urban conditions described below.
Between 1947 and 1990, business elites and government agencies acquired more than 4,265 acres of public land in Dhaka (Muhammad, A. (1992). Kotipoti, Moddybitya, Abong Shromik [The Millionaire, Middle Class, and Labour], p. 107; Shafi, S. (2008). Role of state agencies in transformation of public lands in Dhaka city, pp. 3–7). More than 50 real estate companies also “illegally occupied” over 600 acres of public land in the city (Shafi, S. (2008). Role of state agencies in transformation of public lands in Dhaka city; Siddiqui, K., Ahmed, J., Siddique, K., et al. (2010). Social Formation in Dhaka, 1985–2005: A Longitudinal Study of Society in a Third World Megacity, p. 7). Between 1990 and 2010, urban elites expropriated over 6,000 more acres (Feldman, S. and Geisler, C. (2012). Land expropriation and displacement in Bangladesh; Siddiqui, K., Ahmed, J., Siddique, K., et al. (2010). Social Formation in Dhaka, 1985–2005: A Longitudinal Study of Society in a Third World Megacity). One real estate company occupied nearly 100 acres of public land in a single location in Badda and sold off “every single” plot without informing the city authority (Chowdhury, K. R. (2007). Bashundhara Group gets away with Tk 400cr: Badda land grab). Urban researchers have characterised this type of land accumulation as “outright plunder and loot of state and abandoned property” (Siddiqui, K., Ahmed, J., Siddique, K., et al. (2010). Social Formation in Dhaka, 1985–2005: A Longitudinal Study of Society in a Third World Megacity, p. 192). These practices have helped make Dhaka an increasingly unliveable place, drastically shrinking its green spaces, water bodies, waterways, streets, parks, playgrounds, and other open spaces.
Another woeful example of urban planning failure is the Purbachal New Town project. It began in 1996 with the permanent eviction of more than 30,000 people from 17 mouzas, or villages, the felling of millions of trees, the destruction of habitats and wildlife, and the transfer of poor people’s land to urban elites and the middle class. The project covers over 6,220 acres, taking in parts of Dhaka’s Khilkhet, Narayanganj’s Rupganj, and Gazipur’s Kaliganj. Yet, after more than Tk 12,000 crore has been spent over 30 years, little visible progress has been made. Tayeb (2021, Don’t let Purbachal be a squandered opportunity) argued that the project “turned into a quagmire of corruption, nepotism, and mismanagement—a black hole sucking in enormous economic and natural resources, giving nothing back in return”.
The urban planner Adil Mohammad Khan told The Daily Star that “Purbachal is developing as an unplanned extension of Dhaka city” (Rahman, A. and Alam, H. (2021). Purbachal: An extension of chaotic Dhaka?).
The Purbachal New Town Project. The images are taken from Bratto Amin’s 2023 film Kompanydesh.
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The Purbachal New Town Project. The images are taken from Bratto Amin’s 2023 film Kompanydesh.