When the Investment Summit began in Dhaka in the past week, it was not the typical performance of state-led optimism that we have grown used to. From a distance, through news reports, livestreamed sessions and social media snippets, it looked more restrained, more measured. There were speeches, yes. There were the usual suits and symbols. But beneath all that, there seemed to be a quiet question rippling: is Bangladesh truly turning or just turning heads?
It is a fair question. Just a year ago, Bangladesh was living under a regime that had grown impervious to dissent and indifferent to reform. Policymaking was no longer a tool for progress. It was a currency of control. When that regime fell to a wave of protest and exhaustion, the country was not just leaderless, it was emotionally depleted.
Then came the interim government, unexpected, unprecedented, and for many, a cautious relief. At the head stood Muhammad Yunus, a man whose public life has been more about eradicating poverty than wielding political power. So, when he addressed the summit with words like 鈥榙ignity,鈥� 鈥榠nclusion鈥� and 鈥榮ocial business,鈥� it did not sound like PR spin. It sounded like someone trying to reset the national vocabulary.
Of course, vision is not policy. And poetry does not fix infrastructure. But vision still matters, especially in a country that has long forgotten to dream without being punished for it.
The technocratic heft came from BIDA鈥檚 new executive chair, Chowdhury Ashik Mahmud Bin Harun. His presentation, shared widely online, was everything Yunus鈥檚 was not: fast-paced, data-heavy and crisp. He laid out a future Bangladesh built on green energy, digital connectivity, investment zones and startup ecosystems. For many watching, especially young professionals and diaspora investors, it felt like the kind of language they had long hoped to hear from someone in public office.
But not everyone is convinced. And they should not be.
In a sharply worded critique, a senior producer of Al Jazeera English who earned public respect during the 2024 uprising, described the summit as 鈥榞randstanding鈥� and Ashik鈥檚 presentation as 鈥榝lashy but hollow.鈥� He questioned why in a country ranked 168 out of 190 in the World Bank鈥檚 Ease of Doing Business index (data from the 2020 index), more energy was not spent on real reform rather than optics. Why sign symbolic space accords with NASA, he asked, when FDI has dropped 71 per cent and capital machinery imports are at a 21-year low?
These are not bad questions. In fact, they are essential. Because Bangladesh has been here before.
In 2016, BEZA signed memorandums of understanding worth more than $20 billion. By 2020, less than 10 per cent had materialised. The 2019 BIDA summit promised another $10 billion; Bangladesh Bank data show no significant spike. In 2018, BIMSTEC鈥檚 regional dreams barely left the press release stage. So, the question looms, heavy and tired: was this summit a sign of true transformation, or just another attempt to turn heads with spectacle and speech?
For one, the absence of repression. The very fact that such critiques can now circulate publicly marks a shift. Under the previous regime, they would have likely invited harassment. This openness, however fragile, is a step towards legitimacy.
Second, the tone. There is a visible attempt, however imperfect, to shift from control to facilitation. The summit did not just invite capital; it tried, however awkwardly, to invite conversation. And for once, many of those conversations included local entrepreneurs, tech founders and, even, rural business voices, often still from the margins though.
Still, the Al Jazeera correspondent reminds us of something critical: intent does not equal impact.
The Artemis accords may inspire headlines, but they do little to inspire confidence in garment exporters facing razor-thin margins or foreign investors lost in red tape. If this government truly wants to be different, it must make execution, not optics, its currency.
That means real reform: digitised land registry, simplified licensing, legal protection for investors and a functioning one-stop investment service. Not just signing Artemis, but signing enforceable contracts for vocational training, manufacturing hubs, clean energy infrastructure. That鈥檚 how you attract giants, not with style, but with systems.
And yet, even acknowledging all of this, I am not ready to write it off.
Why?
Because for the first time in years, there is space for disagreement without fear. There is language that speaks of people, not just of policy. And there is an emerging generation of bureaucrats and entrepreneurs who seem less interested in power and more in process. That does not guarantee success. But it signals possibility.
A young startup founder posted on X, 鈥楩or the first time, I felt like this summit wasn鈥檛 just for them, it was also a little bit for us.鈥� That post did not go viral. But, it stuck with me.
No, the summit did not change the country. But, maybe, it marked a pause. A reorientation. A momentary willingness to ask: what next, and for whom?
Bangladesh may not have turned the corner yet. But, it may be learning to stop and ask: are we truly turning or are we just turning heads again? That, too, is a kind of beginning. But only if the questions stay louder than the applause.
Disclaimer: The author was not physically present at the Bangladesh Investment Summit 2025. This commentary is based on publicly available news coverage, official documents, livestreamed sessions, and social media discourse.
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Sohana Samrin Chowdhury has worked with the International Labour Organization, UNDP and WFP, focusing on skills development, labour migration, and workplace safety policy.
