Is economic development in the Hill Tracts a double-edged sword?

Most people in the hill tracts do not have legal documents for the land they have lived on for generations. Photo: TBS

The hills have a stillness that the rest of Bangladesh never seems to have time for. Roads twist quietly around the green, homes peek out through the trees, and the air smells like wet earth after rain. When I think of the Hill Tracts, I think of slow mornings, small voices, and stories passed between generations. 

But now, resorts are popping up where there were once bamboo groves. Concrete is replacing clay. Buildings, shops, and tourism packages are arriving in full force.

We call this development. But who is it really for?

Let us not ignore the facts. A lot has changed in the last two decades. Not too long ago, many villages in the Hill Tracts were completely cut off during the monsoon. Roads would turn to mud, and communication with the outside world would vanish. 

These days, paved roads reach further, connecting once-remote communities. Schools have been built. Clinics have fans and basic medicine. There is even a mobile signal in places that did not have electricity a few years ago.

And yes, tourism is booming. Travellers from Dhaka and beyond come in droves. Young people are finding new opportunities – working as tour guides, running tea stalls, renting out boats, or even selling handmade crafts. For families who once survived on shifting cultivation and very little else, this is a huge shift. It opened a door that was shut for far too long.

But the thing is that the door does not open equally for everyone.

Poverty still runs deep in many areas. While some young people have found work in tourism or transport, many others struggle. Jobs are seasonal, unpredictable, and often underpaid. 

There are young people with big dreams and degrees, but no place to use them. They leave their villages and move to cities, hoping for a better life, only to end up in low-paying jobs, far from home and culture. The poverty that pushed them out in the first place still exists back in the hills – it just wears a different face now.

A lot of this development also seems rushed, almost imposed. Decisions are being made without truly involving the communities that are being affected the most. This is the part that feels unfair. Should not development be something we build with people, not just around them?

Land is where the pain begins for many. Families lose ancestral plots – sometimes to government projects, or outside investors, or new settlers. And there is no real safety net. Most people here do not have legal documents for the land they have lived on for generations.

If someone wants to take it, there is often no formal way to fight back. What is worse is that for these communities, land is not just about property; it is about memory, survival, and identity. Losing it does not just make them homeless; it disconnects them from who they are.

There is the cultural loss that rides silently alongside economic change. In many schools, children are taught only in Bengali. Indigenous languages are fading. Local traditions are seen as outdated, and young people are encouraged – sometimes pressurised – to blend in with mainstream Bengali culture to succeed. 

Adapting is part of growth, but when your own identity is seen as a barrier to opportunity, that is not growth. It is a silent erasure.

We cannot talk about development without talking about the environment. The hills are fragile. The soil does not hold well when it is cut into. Landslides are becoming more common. 

Forests are being cleared for rubber plantations, for wide roads, and ironically, for so-called "eco-resorts". These projects claim to be green, but they uproot trees, displace wildlife, and destroy traditional ways of living that were far more sustainable.

What hurts most is how the people who have lived in balance with this land for centuries are suddenly being told their way of life is backward. The same people who knew how to grow food without exhausting the soil, how to build homes without flattening the forest, how to live with nature instead of against it – now they are being pushed aside in the name of progress.

We are not against development. No one wants to stay stuck in time. People deserve better education, health, dignity, and choice. But development should not feel like something is being done to you. It should feel like something you are building with your own hands, on your terms.

What would it look like if development initiatives were undertaken taking the voices of the people who live in the Hill Tracts into account? If young people did not have to choose between culture and opportunity? If poverty were not treated with pity, but with policy? 

If instead of replacing old systems, we strengthened them? Imagine tourism managed by local communities, not outside companies. Schools that teach both Bengali and indigenous languages. Laws that protect land rights, not undermine them.

This is not some far-off dream. It just requires a different way of thinking. A shift from top-down control to bottom-up collaboration. From "we know what is best for you" to "tell us what you need".

The truth is, the Hill Tracts are changing. But change is not always growth. Sometimes it is a loss dressed up in glass and concrete. Sometimes it is silence where there used to be a song.

We need to ask the harder questions. Who is this development serving? Who is being left behind? Because if we keep building without listening, one day we will look up and realise the hills have lost more than just trees and rivers - people, language, and stories. And once that is gone, no road, resort, or revenue can ever be brought back.  

Sketch: TBS

Zubayer Hossen is a Programme Director at South Asian Network on Economic Modelling (SANEM). Email: zubayerhossen14@gmail.com

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard