Fuel rationing in a time of war: How Asia is managing scarcity

With the Strait of Hormuz blocked and the ripple effects of the Iran war disrupting global energy flows, countries across Asia are confronting a familiar but deeply complex challenge of managing limited fuel supplies without paralysing their economies. 

From informal demand suppression to tightly controlled quota systems, governments are adopting a range of strategies to ration access, stabilise markets, and maintain essential services. 

Standard policy tools like dipping into tactical reserves were deployed within days, but as those stockpiles approach critically low levels, governments have been forced to innovate. 

The result is a patchwork of radical conservation measures that are fundamentally reshaping Asian daily life, fusing 1970s-style physical rationing with 21st-century digital surveillance. 

What is Bangladesh doing? 

Dependent on imports for 95% of its fuel, the newly elected Bangladesh government had to move with uncharacteristic speed in early March to prevent a total systemic collapse. The Bangladesh Petroleum Corporation (BPC) has enforced a strict tiered rationing system. 

To further blunt the demand, the government took the radical step of bringing forward the Eid-al-Fitr holidays for a week, shutting down schools, colleges and universities during Ramadan to take classrooms and residential halls off the grid. 

Is it working? On paper, yes. BPC estimates that demand has been forced down from 380,000 tonnes to 270,000 per month. But the human cost is visible in the overnight queues at filling stations and the "Petrol Sold Out" signs that now dot the highways from Dhaka to Chattogram. And the government has to spend Tk167 crore daily to keep the fuel price steady. 

Its Asian peers have adopted other strategies. 

The return of the "Odd-Even" licence plates

For decades, the "Odd-Even" licence plate system was a legacy policy used to combat air pollution or alleviate congestion during high-profile international summits. Today, it has become a desperate tool for fuel preservation for many countries. 

The island nation of Sri Lanka, already battered by a financial crisis in 2022 that gave it a painful crash course in fuel scarcity, was the first to formalise the mandate on 19 March 2026. Under the Ministry of Power and Energy's directive, only vehicles with licence plates ending in odd digits (1, 3, 5, 7, 9) are permitted to enter gas stations on odd-numbered dates. Even-digit plates are restricted to even-numbered dates. 

The implementation was swift, enforcing an immediate 50% reduction in standard demand.

The model is rapidly spreading. Myanmar's junta government, facing severe international isolation and a collapsed domestic grid, has implemented "alternate driving days" in the primary commercial hubs of Yangon and Naypyidaw, where soldiers now guard refuelling depots. 

In Pakistan, a country facing a dire foreign exchange crisis, the odd-even system is no longer a "worst-case scenario" but has been publicly proposed by government advisors as the next unavoidable step for major hubs like Karachi and Lahore.

The rise of the 'Digital Fuel Passport'

While Odd-Even schemes manage physical queues, they cannot stop hoarding or the emergence of a thriving black market. To combat this, some countries are turning to technology, creating the world's most aggressive digital rationing systems.

The standard-bearer for this movement is, again, Sri Lanka. 

The "National Fuel Pass", a government-mandated QR code system first deployed during their 2022 crisis, was reactivated within 48 hours of the Hormuz blockade. 

The system is brutal in its efficiency. Every citizen must register their Vehicle Identity Number (VIN) and mobile number at fuelpass.gov.lk. This generates a unique QR code. When a driver arrives at a pump, they must present the code. A station attendant — often escorted by the military — scans it. The central system immediately checks the vehicle's remaining quota. The moment the quota is hit, the digital passport is deactivated for seven days.

The "Sri Lankan Model" has become a vital export. 

Pakistan is now moving at an unprecedented pace to deploy its own digital quota app. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, acknowledging the scale of the emergency, confirmed that the government would use this tech to target specific, vulnerable transportation sectors — rickshaws, public transit vans, and motorcycles — ensuring they receive a baseline of fuel at a subsidised "social safety net" price, while simultaneously preventing them from reselling it on the black market.

'Work-from-home' and 'four-day work week'

The third major step in Asia's survival strategy targets the workplace, moving pandemic-era remote work policies from a public health necessity to an energy security mandate. The rationale is that if you eliminate the commute, you eliminate the fuel consumption.

Pakistan was among the first in the region to move toward a radical reordering of the work week, announcing an official four-day work week for all non-essential public servants. Crucially, the decree included a strict mandate that 50% of all staff — including the private corporate sector — must return to mandatory work-from-home status. Major corporate centres in Karachi and Islamabad were emptied almost overnight.

This austerity model is echoing across Southeast Asia. In the Philippines, President Ferdinand Marcos Jr approved a four-day work week for public sector agencies, designed to curb government fuel and utility expenses. 

The move was paired with a dramatic authorisation from the Department of Energy allowing the temporary use of older, lower-emission-standard Euro II fuel, a clear prioritisation of supply over air quality.

Sri Lanka went even further, implementing a mandatory, mid-week shutdown of all public offices and schools. By declaring every Wednesday a "national stay-at-home day", the government aimed to create a mid-week "firebreak" that immediately preserved essential state fuel reserves.

Long-term strategy to pivot towards nuclear and coal

The mitigation strategies are not just focused on the street level; they are also sparking a long-term, and potentially permanent, rewrite of national energy grids. The crisis has all but shattered the consensus that Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) could serve as a "bridge fuel" in the region's green energy transition. The reliability of Gulf gas is now viewed as an unsustainable strategic weakness.

This has triggered rapid, dramatic steps from Japan and South Korea, who have the world's most developed nuclear infrastructure, to pivot sharply. For nations without mature nuclear programmes, the transition is more difficult — and environmentally hazardous. 

Nations like Vietnam and the Philippines, which were exploring nuclear energy prior to the crisis, are now fast-tracking their first-ever reactor development programmes with emergency backing from the World Bank.

The island nation of Sri Lanka, already battered by a financial crisis in 2022 that gave it a painful crash course in fuel scarcity, was the first to formalise the "Odd-Even" licence plate method for fuel sales. Only vehicles with licence plates ending in odd digits are permitted to enter gas stations on odd-numbered dates. Even-digit plates are restricted to even-numbered dates.

But the most significant, and immediate, consequence is the massive return to coal. India has taken the drastic step of invoking its Essential Services Maintenance Act (ESMA) to redirect all domestic coal output toward power generation, sidelining its own environmental commitments to meet its peak summer demand of 270 GW. 

To save natural gas, India also activated emergency laws to redirect natural gas that would typically go to industrial users (like steel and cement factories) into the consumer network, ensuring cooking fuel — LPG — remains available to its 1.4 billion citizens.

South Korea and Thailand similarly lifted environmental limits on their coal-fired power plants, running them at maximum capacity, while Vietnam announced a 'priority pass' for all domestic coal transport.

Bangladesh now stands at that crossroads. Its initial response has prioritised stability and flexibility, avoiding the political and administrative costs of hard rationing. But as the crisis deepens, the limits of this approach are becoming evident. Monitoring alone cannot eliminate scarcity-driven behaviour; it can only contain its excesses. 

The experiences of its regional peers offer a set of choices. A digital quota system could bring order, but at the cost of rigidity and failing due to its weak governance. Demand suppression through work and education policies can reduce consumption but risks economic slowdown, which would in turn curtail the economic growth. Supply-side adjustments require time and infrastructure that may not be immediately available. 

For the government, there is no perfect model — only trade-offs.