Climate resistance: The dire need of private sector intervention

Structures impacted by a severe weather event in a coastal area of Bangladesh, illustrating the challenges of climate resilience. Photo: Mohammad Minhaj Uddin

Isn't it a common scene? To find ourselves drinking tea from pretty ceramic mugs at offices, conference rooms and our homes, while we talk about climate resilience or adaptation in Bangladesh. The conversation almost always circles around the government, NGOs, or foreign donors. But can we really afford to leave the private sector out of the equation? 

That gap is becoming impossible to ignore if we are to survive, and possibly thrive in the face of intensifying weather shocks.

The ordeal is not a seemingly theoretical one anymore. How many times in the current and the past year, have we seen floods swallowing villages, cyclones tearing through coastal homes, or heatwaves bringing city life to a standstill? 

In 2024 itself, Bangladesh lost nearly 1.8 billion US dollars in economic output because of heat-related health problems and lost workdays, as per the World Bank. That is almost half a percent of our GDP, gone simply because the weather has turned against us. And scientists warn it will only get worse. Rising "feels like" temperatures are already overwhelming against what the thermometer shows. By mid-century, our rainfall extremes could be up to 50 millimetres higher on a single day. Can we imagine the stress on our already fragile infrastructure?

The state cannot possibly carry this entire burden of concern alone. Whether we talk about the budget or international donor dynamics, it is futile per se. That is why private sector intervention is not just wanted, it is needed. Think about it. Who builds the factories, the roads, the logistics systems that our economy relies on? Who designs the houses, grows the food, finances the insurance? Irrespective of our attachment to the state, it is the private sector that ultimately steps into construction. However, the story here is that when it comes to climate resilience, there is no immediate utility to enjoy for the private sector.

While the rat race of leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) certifications and green factories has become the standardised norm to demonstrate global alignment, it is ultimately the environment around us where we live. What's the point in chasing sustainability if our home is not so sustainable?

Private firms have the scale and speed that governments often lack. A resilient port or transport hub financed by private capital could secure thousands of jobs for years to come. Businesses also have the capacity to innovate. Drought-tolerant seeds, climate-smart irrigation, or floodproof building materials are usually born from private research and development. Why shouldn't these be mainstream in Bangladesh? 

When floods destroyed over a million tonnes of rice recently, the loss was not just to the farmers but to the entire supply chain, from traders to exporters. Isn't this proof that resilience in agriculture is both a public and private responsibility?

So what kind of interventions are we actually talking about? 

Picture Dhaka's skyline sparkling with reflective "cool roofs" to reduce heat. Imagine housing projects in coastal towns that are built with elevated foundations, rainwater harvesting, and solar back-up. Imagine roads and bridges constructed with durability in mind, not just lowest-cost shortcuts that collapse under stress. And think of financial instruments such as weather-based crop insurance which allows small farmers to get back on their feet after a storm. 

Wouldn't these make our economy stronger, fairer, and more future-proof? These are currently happening from an aspect of social intervention from agencies, NGOs, and as competition ideas. Just imagine the scale of it if the private sector decides to help.

This is not only about profit and loss — it's about lives, dignity, and justice. And that makes it everyone's responsibility.

The private sector can also play a crucial role in developing early warning systems and climate data. If businesses are equipped with real-time flood models or hazard maps, they can adjust their supply chains, relocate warehouses, and protect workers before disasters hit. But here's the question: if all this is possible, why isn't it happening already?

The answer is partly in the barriers and partly in enablement. Resilient infrastructure costs more upfront, and many firms are hesitant to pay when the benefits lie years down the road. Weak enforcement of building codes, shifting policies, or unclear land titles discourage serious investment. And then there is the question of incentives. If the benefit of a strong embankment is shared by the whole community, why should a single firm pay the bill? These are real concerns, but they are not impossible to overcome.

Here, the government could play a part as both a facilitator and a regulator. Policies need to be predictable and consistent. Tax breaks and blended finance models are examples of financial incentives that can reduce the risk of private investment. Resilient standards should be required in public procurement so that contractors are compelled to innovate rather than take shortcuts. Architects, engineers and local governments can be empowered to incorporate adaptation into every project with training and technical support. 

This is not just about profit and loss. It is about lives, dignity, and justice. It is always the poorest who pay the highest price when climate disasters strike. Slum dwellers, small farmers, coastal families: they do not have the financial cushion to rebuild after each blow. If private businesses can help fortify homes, secure supply chains, and keep critical services running, isn't that also an act of needed social responsibility?

There is also a bigger picture. A Bangladesh that is perceived as too risky will lose foreign investment, jobs, and growth opportunities. But a Bangladesh that embeds resilience into its very DNA can inspire confidence, attract capital and project stability. That is why climate resistance must not remain a slogan or a government-first task. It must become a shared mission.

So let me leave you with this thought: imagine your factory, your home, your village, or your farm under a severe weather shock tomorrow. Would you want weaker dams, fragile roads and collapsing homes? Or would you prefer infrastructure and systems that bend but do not break? These are choices we must make today, not tomorrow.

If the choice is "no, I don't want all that to happen," it reminds us that we are, above all, humane. The people we sell to, the people we earn from, and those who live around us share that same humanity. Yet, they often stand at a disadvantage when it comes to being prepared for the future. 

Mohaimenul Solaiman Nicholas is a graduate of Economics and Social Sciences from BRAC University. 

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.