WHEN a village is swept away by floods in Bangladesh, the global north praises the survivors’ ‘resilience’. But is resilience a badge of honour — or a painful coping mechanism in a world rigged against the poor?
In the age of escalating climate crises, ‘resilience’ has become a buzzword. International development agencies, NGOs, and policymakers tout it as a triumph — communities learning to live with disaster, adapting with dignity. But behind the glossy reports and celebrated case studies lies a harsher truth: for many in Bangladesh, especially in the coastal areas, resilience is not a choice but an imposed burden. It is survival dressed up as success, absolving the real perpetrators of responsibility.
Glorification of survival
FROM community-built flood-proof homes to women-led farming cooperatives in saline-inundated fields, Bangladesh’s so-called ‘success stories’ are heavily promoted in global development forums. These stories feed a comforting narrative: that with enough ingenuity and support, even the poorest can overcome the ravages of climate change.
But to call this ‘success’ is to wilfully ignore the violence that necessitated such adaptation in the first place. Bangladeshis are not adapting because they have been empowered; they are adapting because they have been abandoned. When resilience is celebrated without a corresponding demand for systemic change, it becomes a tool of injustice — a way to normalise suffering instead of confronting its causes.
Adaptation as individual responsibility
NEOLIBERALISM, the dominant global economic ideology, excels at turning collective crises into matters of personal responsibility. Under this logic, climate adaptation shifts from being a systemic obligation to a heroic individual endeavour. Take, for example, the proliferation of micro-insurance programmes in coastal Bangladesh. Poor farmers are encouraged to ‘protect’ themselves against cyclone damage by buying tiny insurance policies. On the surface, it sounds empowering. In reality, these programmes place the burden of climate risk squarely on those least able to bear it. Should a catastrophic storm hit — intensified by the unchecked emissions of industrialised nations — the meagre payouts barely cover the losses. Meanwhile, industries and governments that profit from environmental destruction face no corresponding obligation.
Similarly, community-based adaptation projects, while fostering admirable grassroots innovation, are often funded as end-goals rather than temporary measures pending larger systemic reforms. Communities are given the impossible task of fighting rising seas and salinisation with ‘climate-smart agriculture’ while national policies continue to permit extractive industries and coastal development projects that worsen the threats.
Hidden violence of ‘solutions’
THE celebrated flood-proof homes of Satkhira and Khulna districts — raised on plinths and built with ‘resilient materials’ — are often cited as shining examples of adaptation. Yet few ask why villagers must rebuild their lives on precarious ground in the first place.
Intensive shrimp farming, driven by global demand and enabled by lax regulation, has devastated natural mangrove defences and poisoned freshwater supplies across southern Bangladesh. Land-grabbing by corporate interests leaves communities no choice but to settle in increasingly flood-prone areas. The flood-proof house becomes not a symbol of triumph but a grim monument to forced adaptation: a home designed not for security but for surviving the next inevitable disaster.
Adaptation projects that focus narrowly on technical fixes, without challenging the economic systems fuelling environmental degradation, serve only to entrench vulnerability. They transform suffering into spectacle — something to be studied, documented and funded — rather than eliminated.
Resilience rhetoric: a convenient distraction
THE embrace of resilience language is not accidental. It provides governments, corporations, and international organizations a way to appear compassionate without sacrificing profit or power. If the poor can adapt, after all, why should the rich change?
By focusing attention on the ability of vulnerable communities to cope, the narrative conveniently erases the responsibility of the fossil fuel giants, the industrial polluters, and the policymakers who continue to prioritise short-term economic growth over planetary survival. It suggests that the problem lies not in global inequality but in insufficient innovation at the community level.
This logic is both insidious and profoundly unjust. It treats resilience as an end rather than a bridge to systemic transformation — a way of coping with injustice rather than ending it.
Towards a justice-centred climate response
IF RESILIENCE is to mean anything other than abandonment, it must be redefined.
True adaptation cannot merely equip the poor to endure endless cycles of disaster. It must dismantle the structures that produce vulnerability in the first place: economic exploitation, environmental degradation, and political marginalisation. Climate justice demands that adaptation efforts be tied to systemic accountability — forcing governments and corporations to bear the costs of the crises they create.
This means not only strengthening levees but also strengthening land rights. Not only introducing salt-tolerant crops but also reining in industries that destroy ecosystems. Not only praising community innovation but also demanding reparations and radical policy shifts from the global north.
The people of Bangladesh — and countless others around the world — deserve more than survival. They deserve a future where resilience is not a necessity born of systemic betrayal but a collective achievement of a just and equitable world.
Aminur Rahman is a researcher and development professional. Quazi Arunim Rahman a lecturer at the University of Brahmanbaria.
