Blackout diplomacy: How the Iran War left Bangladesh in the dark

Bangladesh has once again pulled forward the clock on its commercial life. As of Thursday, shops, markets and malls across the country must shutter by 8 p.m., an hour earlier than before, part of a widening set of emergency conservation rules meant to squeeze a few more megawatts out of a grid that simply does not have enough to go around. Hospitals, pharmacies and food vendors are spared. Nearly everyone else is not.

It is a strikingly familiar scene. Only months ago, during the height of regional turmoil triggered by the Iran conflict, Dhaka ordered an even stricter curfew on commerce, forcing businesses closed by 6 p.m. That the country finds itself repeating the exercise says less about a single bad week and more about a structural vulnerability that a distant war keeps exposing.

A crisis built on two points of failure

The immediate trigger is mechanical rather than political. A fire last month at an LNG terminal operated by the American firm Excelerate Energy knocked out roughly half the country's import capacity; the facility only resumed partial operations this week. Around the same time, rough seas prevented at least two LNG carriers from offloading their cargo at Bangladesh's terminals, compounding the shortfall just as demand was already outrunning supply.

The numbers tell the story starkly. The power sector needs more than a billion cubic feet of gas daily; it is currently receiving around 700 million. With national electricity demand near 18,000 megawatts against a supply capped closer to 13,000, the arithmetic of blackout was almost inevitable. Rural areas outside Dhaka have borne the brunt, with some regions reporting outages stretching eight to ten hours a day, worsened by an ongoing heatwave.

When the grid fails, so does patience

The human cost is visible in ways that go beyond inconvenience. Frustration has spilled into open confrontation in several districts, with reports of vandalism and arson targeting electricity infrastructure in areas including Saidpur, Nilphamari and Kushtia. Utility workers report being harassed, and in some cases threatened, while attempting to collect overdue bills. The Bangladesh Palli Bidyut Association, which manages rural power cooperatives, has formally asked police to patrol substations and grid stations.

The economic toll is just as tangible. Shrimp farmers, whose product makes Bangladesh the world's second-largest exporter of the crustacean, describe watching oxygen levels collapse in their ponds each time aerators lose power. The textile and garment sector, the backbone of the national economy, is similarly exposed to an unreliable grid. For an economy this dependent on continuous production cycles, prolonged load-shedding is not a nuisance; it is a direct threat to export competitiveness.

The geopolitical undercurrent

Bangladesh imports more than 90 percent of its oil and roughly 30 percent of its gas, a dependency that leaves its energy security hostage to global markets far beyond its control. The conflict centred on Iran rattled shipping routes, spiked fuel and LNG prices, and injected volatility into precisely the supply chains Dhaka relies on to keep the lights on. A country with thin domestic reserves and heavy import exposure has almost no buffer when that volatility hits.

That exposure has pushed Bangladesh back toward an old, complicated relationship: its energy lifeline to India. The two countries are connected by the India-Bangladesh Friendship Pipeline, commissioned in 2017, under which New Delhi is committed to supplying 180,000 metric tonnes of diesel annually under a fifteen-year arrangement. Dhaka has now asked India to increase those flows, a request delivered directly to Indian High Commissioner Dinesh Trivedi by Bangladesh's energy minister, Iqbal Hassan Mahmood. India has already shipped more than 30,000 tonnes of diesel to Bangladesh since the spring, when the Iran-linked disruptions first began rippling through South Asian energy markets.

This quiet cooperation is notable precisely because political relations between the two nations have been anything but smooth. New Delhi's decision to shelter former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina after her 2024 ouster has remained a persistent irritant for the government of Tarique Rahman, and Hasina's recent public remarks from Delhi, her first since fleeing Dhaka, have only sharpened tensions. Energy interdependence, it seems, is proving more durable than diplomatic goodwill. Bangladesh needs India's diesel regardless of how it feels about India's guest.