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The crisis in Bangladesh's healthcare system is a known fact. It is being felt daily by millions of people who are forced to wait for hours in overcrowded public hospitals, struggle to afford exorbitant fees in private clinics or face the cruel choice between treatment and survival. The state of our hospitals today is not just a reflection of weak infrastructure and understaffed wards, but a broader indictment of failed policies and neglected priorities.
Government hospitals, meant to be the backbone of public healthcare, are crippled by dilapidated infrastructure, insufficient medical staff, lack of modern equipment, and an overwhelming patient load. Many lack essential medicines, diagnostic facilities, or even proper sanitation. The result is predictable: citizens who can better-off avoid these institutions altogether. Ironically, this flight from the public sector includes not just the wealthy, but even sections of the middle and lower-middle classes, who increasingly see no alternative but to seek treatment in private hospitals.
But here lies the cruel paradox: in the private sector, healthcare has been transformed into a commodity. Profit motives, disregard for regulations, and an absence of ethical safeguards mean that patients are often treated less as human beings in need of healing and more as customers purchasing a product. Here, life-saving services are packaged like consumer goods-sold at high prices and marketed through advertisements, promotions, and flashy claims of "world-class" facilities.
This crisis is not simply a matter of hospitals, beds, or doctors. It is the direct result of the country's failed health policy. Bangladesh's Constitution guarantees access to healthcare as a basic right. Yet, in practice, this guarantee remains confined to paper, a hollow promise that fails millions who depend on it.
There are cases where due to their inability to pay the treatment bill, parents had to flee hospitals leaving their children in the ICU.
Questions have been raised if hospitals have no responsibility beyond demanding bills? Is there no space in our healthcare system for empathy? Should poor patients always be treated as liabilities unless they can pay? At what point does a system built to heal transform into a mechanism that alienates the very people it should serve?
Healthcare in Bangladesh has now become stratified along lines of class, creating a cruel form of social segregation. The wealthy fly abroad for treatment or turn to expensive, large-scale private hospitals in Dhaka. The middle class-often the most vulnerable-take loans, sell property, or exhaust life savings just to afford operations or critical care. And the poor? They endure untreated illnesses, resort to unqualified practitioners, or, in the worst cases, abandon their loved ones in hospital corridors.
This is not merely an economic disparity; it is a form of social injustice. It is the erosion of the very idea that life has equal value, regardless of income or status. When the ability to access healthcare depends on how much money one has, society fractures into tiers of humanity-where the lives of the poor become expendable, and the wealthy are protected by privilege.
Underlying this crisis is the abysmally low budgetary allocation to healthcare. In the 2024-25 fiscal year, Bangladesh devoted only 5.4 percent of its national budget to the health sector. Experts widely agree this is far below what is required for a country of more than 170 million people. To make matters worse, even this inadequate allocation fails to translate into effective services because of widespread corruption, inefficiency, and resource mismanagement. Funds are siphoned off, equipment procurement is riddled with irregularities, and accountability remains elusive.
As a result, the gap between demand and supply grows wider every year. The private sector fills this vacuum, but without proper oversight, it is driven almost entirely by profit motives. Across the country, new hospitals and clinics emerge, not as centers of healing, but as businesses competing through "packages," "special deals," or glamorous advertising campaigns. The tragedy is that this commercialisation takes place in a sector that should, by its very nature, place life and dignity above all else.
The current situation cannot be allowed to persist. Healthcare must be reclaimed as a fundamental public good rather than a market-driven service. Several steps are urgently needed.
First, private hospitals must be brought under a strict regulatory framework. Standardised rates for admission, ICU charges, diagnostic services, and essential treatments must be set and enforced. A mandatory quota for poor patients, ensuring access to free or heavily subsidized care, should be part of licensing requirements. Transparency in billing, along with strong monitoring mechanisms, is essential to prevent exploitation.
Second, public hospitals must be strengthened. This means not only increasing budgetary allocations but also ensuring those funds are properly spent. Investments in infrastructure, training, and technology are vital. Equally important is creating an environment that promotes professionalism, ethics, and accountability among healthcare workers. Doctors and nurses must be incentivised to stay in the public system rather than migrate to private practice or abroad.
Third, healthcare must reach rural Bangladesh. The concentration of advanced facilities in urban areas leaves the majority of the population underserved. Strengthening community clinics, upgrading district hospitals, and ensuring consistent availability of medicines can create a more equitable distribution of services.
Fourth, civil society must be engaged. NGOs, charitable organizations, and corporate social responsibility (CSR) programs can play a vital role in bridging gaps. However, their contributions must complement, not replace, the responsibility of the state. A dedicated health fund for poor patients, managed transparently and independently, could provide immediate relief for those unable to afford critical treatment.
One of the most pressing questions we face is whether healthcare for the poor will remain dependent solely on sympathy and charity. While acts of compassion from individuals or institutions are valuable, they are not a substitute for systemic change. A humane society cannot allow the health of its most vulnerable citizens to depend on chance generosity or the goodwill of strangers.
Instead, healthcare must be recognized and enforced as a fundamental right. Just as access to education or protection from violence is considered non-negotiable, access to medical treatment must be guaranteed for all, irrespective of income or social position. This requires political will, legal safeguards, and a social commitment to equity.
If Bangladesh is to move forward as a just and inclusive society, it must confront the inequalities that plague its healthcare system. The story of the mother forced to leave her child behind should serve not only as a moment of grief, but as a catalyst for reform. No one should ever be placed in such an impossible situation.
The future demands that we reimagine healthcare not as a bill to be paid, but as a shared responsibility and a moral obligation. In this vision, hospitals are not businesses but sanctuaries of healing. Doctors and nurses are not service providers chasing profits, but professionals guided by ethics and compassion. And the state, rather than shirking its duties, stands firmly as the guarantor of health for all.
This is not an impossible dream. Many countries with fewer resources than Bangladesh have made remarkable progress in creating inclusive healthcare systems through strong policies, effective regulation, and social mobilization. What is required is the courage to place human lives above financial interests, and the determination to turn constitutional promises into lived realities.
Bangladesh stands at a crossroads. It can continue down the path of commercialisation and inequality, where healthcare remains a privilege of the wealthy and a torment for the poor. Or it can take decisive steps to reclaim healthcare as a basic right, accessible to all without discrimination.
The choice should be clear. Healthcare cannot remain a luxury item or a cruel lottery of fate. It must be the most basic assurance of citizenship-one that affirms the equal worth of every life. For the millions who struggle to afford treatment, and for the dignity of an entire nation, the time to act is now.