Misuse of climate fund must be stopped

Bangladesh, one of the world's most climate-exposed nations, has recently got a sobering reminder how vulnerable its own governance systems remains in the face of an unfolding planetary emergency. The latest findings of the Transparency International Bangladesh (TIB) reveal that more than half of the Bangladesh Climate Change Trust (BCCT) Fund-set up specifically to help communities withstand the rising seas, intensifying cyclones and creeping salinity-has been lost to corruption, political favouritism and sheer administrative decay.

It is a scandal of extraordinary scale, and one that risks undermining both domestic resilience and international confidence at a time when Bangladesh can least afford it.

Between 2010 and 2024, the BCCT approved 891 projects with a combined allocation of USD 458.5 million, or roughly Tk 38.96 billion. TIB's investigation found that irregularities consumed USD 248.4 million-Tk 21.10 billion-during the same period. The culprits form a depressingly familiar cast: politically connected power brokers, members of the fund's own governing board and sections of implementing agencies tasked with delivering projects to some of the poorest and most climate-exposed communities on Earth.

The timing of this disclosure could hardly be worse. In Brazil, climate activists and negotiators are pressing wealthy nations to increase funding for vulnerable countries such as Bangladesh. Scientists warn that rising global temperatures could render parts of the country uninhabitable within decades. And yet, just as Bangladesh seeks to make the case for fairer climate finance flows, it is forced to reckon with a scandal that weakens its moral authority and raises uncomfortable questions about whether future climate funds-however meagre or delayed-will be spent as intended.

The irony is painful. Bangladesh receives a fraction of the money it needs to confront the scale of climate devastation. Experts estimate that the country requires more than USD 12 billion annually to protect communities from floods, cyclones, droughts and salinity intrusion. But from 2003 to 2024, it secured only USD 1.2 billion from international and national climate finance mechanisms. Against such a backdrop, losing Tk 2.0 billion or more to corruption is not merely irresponsible; it is cruel. The loss is borne not by bureaucracies but by families living on eroding riverbanks, farmers battling saline soils, and women walking miles for clean water. It is measured in shattered livelihoods rather than spreadsheets.

The BCCT was created with domestic resources at a time when the global climate finance architecture repeatedly failed to deliver. It was, in essence, a declaration of agency: a recognition that Bangladesh could not wait for international generosity to materialise. That such a fund has now become a playground for political patronage is not only a national embarrassment but also a betrayal of its founding purpose. This is public money, collected from citizens who have every right to expect that the state will protect them from climate threats-not funnel resources into pet projects or private pockets.

What TIB describes is not administrative sloppiness but systemic rot. Projects were routinely approved without robust feasibility studies or environmental assessments. Monitoring was perfunctory; audits, where they existed, were weak. Selection of projects often appeared driven by partisan interests rather than scientific need. In some cases, projects were approved for areas with low climate vulnerability while high-risk regions remained neglected. If this were any other sector, the waste would be dismaying. In the climate sector, it is catastrophic.

The Climate Change Trust Act of 2010, once heralded as a pioneering framework in South Asia, has clearly not kept pace with the governance challenges that followed. Over time, the checks and balances intended to safeguard the fund have eroded. Oversight has weakened. Transparency has declined. The fund became, in effect, vulnerable to exactly the kind of political capture that climate finance experts have long warned about. Reform is no longer a recommendation; it is an urgent necessity.

TIB's nine-point proposal offers a roadmap that policymakers would be wise to take seriously. At the heart of its recommendations is the need to amend the Climate Change Trust Act and create an independent oversight institution with real authority to scrutinise allocation, implementation and auditing. Full public disclosure of project information-from approval to completion-should be mandatory. Procurement processes must be modernised, digitised and transparent. Most importantly, those implicated in corruption should face prosecution, not quiet transfers or administrative pardons.

Bangladesh cannot afford to treat climate finance theft as a minor administrative lapse. It is, in every sense, a crime against the public interest-one that places vulnerable communities directly in harm's way. Corruption erodes the state's ability to respond to cyclones. It weakens embankments that protect millions. It deprives farmers of adaptive technologies that could save their crops. And, not least, it tarnishes the country's image at a time when global solidarity is already fragile.

Yet while the domestic failures are grave, they should not obscure a parallel truth: Bangladesh has been systematically short-changed by the global north. Wealthier nations have failed for years to meet their climate finance commitments. Pledges are slow, inconsistent and often tied to bureaucratic conditions that delay disbursement. In international negotiations, vulnerable countries routinely find themselves fighting uphill battles against shifting goalposts and unfulfilled promises.

But what the TIB revelations demonstrate is that domestic governance matters just as much as international justice. Corruption at home does not absolve the global north of its obligations. But nor does global injustice excuse internal mismanagement. For Bangladesh to argue persuasively on the world stage for increased adaptation financing, it must demonstrate that it has robust mechanisms to use such funds effectively.

The moral stakes are immense. Climate change is not a distant or abstract threat for Bangladesh; it is an ongoing emergency. Every year, families lose their homes to rising waters. River erosion displaces entire communities. Salinity destroys farmland. Cyclones intensify, leaving long trails of devastation. In such a context, climate money is not merely developmental-it is existential. Misusing it is not mismanagement; it is sabotage.

Bangladesh now faces a choice. It can continue with business as usual, allowing climate funds to be captured by vested interests and leaving vulnerable communities exposed. Or it can seize this moment to rebuild trust, strengthen oversight and send a clear message that corruption will not be tolerated-especially not in a sector that determines whether millions can withstand the storms ahead.

Stopping the misuse of climate funds is not simply an institutional duty. It is a moral imperative. Bangladesh's resilience-and its credibility-depends on it.

mirmostafiz@yahoo.com