When Lights Go Out, Governments Fall

In Bangladesh, political legitimacy is not only contested at the ballot box or on the streets—it is tested, quite literally, in the dark. The history of the country makes one thing abundantly clear: energy is not just an economic sector; it is a political barometer. When the lights stay on, governments endure. When they don't, the consequences can be existential.

The period from 2001 to 2006 under the Khaleda Zia-led government remains one of the most politically instructive in Bangladesh's energy history. During that time, the state minister responsible for power, Iqbal Hassan Mahmood, who today once again holds the energy portfolio, presided over a system that became synonymous with chronic failure.

Load shedding was not an inconvenience; it was a way of life. In many parts of the country, electricity was available for only a fraction of the day. Irrigation collapsed, industries slowed, classrooms functioned by candlelight, and urban frustration turned into rural rage. The crisis reached such intensity that it triggered a political outcome almost unheard of in Bangladesh: the forced removal of a minister for administrative failure.

That removal did not solve the crisis. His successor, a retired army officer, resigned within months, effectively admitting that the problem was beyond administrative tinkering. This was not a policy failure, it was a systemic breakdown.

The consequences were immediate and explosive. The Kansat protests of 2006 became emblematic of how energy shortages translate into political violence. Public anger over electricity shortages escalated into deadly confrontations, illustrating a simple truth: when the state cannot provide power, it loses its moral authority to govern.

The political fallout did not stop there. The erosion of public confidence contributed to the government's de-legitimization, setting the stage for its controversial attempts to manipulate the caretaker government mechanism. What followed-- the protests, paralysis, and eventual military-backed intervention known as the 2007–2008 Bangladeshi political crisis -- cannot be understood without recognising energy as a foundational trigger. Energy did not cause the crisis alone, but it weakened the state enough for everything else to unravel.

Fast forward to the long rule of the Awami League, which built much of its political legitimacy on infrastructure expansion, including power generation. For years, improved electrification helped sustain a narrative of development and stability. But this stability was more fragile than it appeared. The shock came with the Russian invasion of Ukraine, which disrupted global energy markets and exposed Bangladesh's structural vulnerability: its heavy dependence on imported fuel. As global LNG prices surged and supply chains tightened, the government struggled to maintain a consistent energy supply without draining foreign exchange reserves.

Load shedding returned-- not at the scale of 2006, but enough to trigger a psychological shift. For a population that had grown accustomed to relative stability, even moderate disruptions felt like regression. Energy shortages fed directly into inflation. Production costs rose, transport became more expensive, and the price of essentials followed. The crisis became not just about electricity, but about livelihoods. The urban middle class felt squeezed, while the rural poor bore the brunt of rising costs. This is where energy intersects with politics in its most dangerous form: not as a technical issue, but as a multiplier of grievance.

The fall of the Awami League after nearly 15 years in power is often explained through the lens of authoritarian overreach and democratic fatigue. That explanation is not wrong, but it is incomplete. Political dissatisfaction needs a catalyst to become explosive. In Bangladesh's case, that catalyst was energy insecurity. Had the government been able to cushion the energy shock through reserves, governance, or transparency, the broader political crisis may have remained contained. Instead, allegations of capital flight, mismanagement, and entrenched oligarchic interests compounded the problem, eroding public trust at precisely the moment when resilience was most needed. Energy, once again, became the fault line through which deeper structural weaknesses surfaced.

The return of the Bangladesh Nationalist Party to power in 2026 carries with it a profound historical irony. The same party, and crucially, the same energy minister now confronts a crisis that echoes the past—albeit in a far more complex global environment. The immediate trigger this time is geopolitical. The US invasion of Iran and the resulting instability in the Strait of Hormuz have disrupted global energy flows. For a country like Bangladesh, which imports the overwhelming majority of its fuel, this is not a distant crisis; it is an existential one.

The government’s response has been swift but reactive: emergency fuel procurement, diversification of suppliers, and diplomatic outreach to countries like India and Oman. These efforts have prevented immediate collapse, but they have not resolved the underlying vulnerability. Queues at petrol pumps, rising prices, and persistent inflation signal a system under strain. The government insists there is no "crisis," yet its actions, price adjustments, austerity measures, and aggressive sourcing tell a different story. This dissonance is politically risky. In Bangladesh, perception often matters as much as reality. A government that appears defensive or in denial risks losing control of the narrative.

The BNP government's reluctance to acknowledge a full-blown crisis is understandable. Political memory looms large. The events of 2001–2006 serve as a cautionary tale of how quickly energy failures can translate into political collapse. At the same time, the government's initial decision to hold fuel prices steady, despite global increases, was a calculated political move. It bought time and preserved public goodwill. But such policies are inherently unsustainable. Eventually, reality asserts itself, as it did when prices were finally increased. For now, the increases appear measured. But the real question is not the level of prices, it is the trajectory. If inflation continues to rise, if supply disruptions persist, and if foreign exchange pressures intensify, the political cost will accumulate. Energy crises do not explode overnight. They erode stability gradually—until suddenly.

Bangladesh’s political history reveals a recurring pattern: energy shortages trigger economic stress. Then the economic stress amplifies public dissatisfaction. And public dissatisfaction weakens political legitimacy, and weak legitimacy eventually invites political confrontation. This cycle is not deterministic, but it is deeply embedded.

The coming months will test whether the BNP government can break this cycle. Success will depend on three factors. First, supply management. Diversifying energy sources and securing stable supply chains are essential. Short-term fixes must evolve into long-term resilience. Second, economic buffering. Energy price shocks must be managed in a way that protects the most vulnerable without destabilizing fiscal balances. Third, and perhaps most importantly, political communication. Transparency and credibility are crucial. A government that acknowledges challenges and demonstrates control is more likely to retain public trust than one that appears evasive.

The central lesson is stark: in Bangladesh, energy is politics. It determines whether factories run or close, whether farmers irrigate or fail, and whether cities function or stall. But beyond these material effects, it shapes something more intangible yet more powerful-- public confidence. The events of 2006 showed how quickly that confidence can collapse. The events following the war in Ukraine demonstrated how energy shocks can destabilise even entrenched regimes. And the unfolding situation in 2026 suggests that Bangladesh remains structurally vulnerable to the same dynamics.

The difference today is scale. The country is more developed, more interconnected, and more dependent on global markets than ever before. This makes both the risks and the stakes higher. For the BNP government, the challenge is not merely to manage an energy crisis. It is to avoid repeating history. Because in Bangladesh, when the lights begin to flicker, it is not just an infrastructure problem, it is the beginning of a political countdown. And history suggests that once that countdown begins, it rarely ends quietly.