Ending Bangladesh's environmental data drought
Just last year, as a Chevening scholar pursuing an MSc in Computational and Data Journalism at Cardiff University, I worked on a fascinating project: turning Britain's live rainfall data into a self-generating instrumental soundscape. It was a creative way to engage the public with environmental information, made possible due to something remarkable. Britain has a network of 1500 rain gauge stations spread across England, Scotland and Wales that feed data every 15 minutes into a public API (think of it as a direct, automated connection to machine-readable data) that anyone can immediately access free of charge from anywhere in the world. Some of these stations date back to the 1850s, and data from the stations are used to predict rain, flood and other weather events with extreme accuracy and granularity.
As a Bangladeshi, my mind jumped home. Our nation, one of the most vulnerable countries to extreme weather events, could benefit immensely from such a system. I immediately started researching. Bangladesh has fewer than 300 such stations maintained by the Bangladesh Water Development Board (BWDB). While its website looks nifty with maps of rainfall distribution and inundation, the data is updated only daily, and the raw data (the kind that can be analysed in a spreadsheet or programming language) is nowhere to be found on the site. Instead, that raw data is hidden behind several layers of bureaucratic, technological, and financial walls. The manual alone—which describes how to get a static snapshot of the data, not a live feed—is 14 pages long. One must go through a rigorous online application process, complete with a payment.
As one of the only few data journalists in Bangladesh, this is a wall I hit all too often. My search for rainfall data revealed not an anomaly, but the default setting for environmental information in our country, which is inaccessible. In fact, this isn't just anecdotal. The US-based non-profit Open Data Watch places Bangladesh 132nd out of 197 countries in its latest ranking. This abysmal position places us behind far less economically developed nations like Rwanda, Uganda, and even war-torn Myanmar.
This systemic data drought has far-reaching implications. As the monsoon recedes and the winter haze approaches, a familiar anxiety hovers over the country. But the haze that clouds our skies is matched by a second, more insidious fog: the lack of data that prevents us from holding polluters and authorities accountable.
We have been promised a digital Bangladesh for more than a decade now. But the persistent gap between the promise of the digital age and the reality on the ground is more than just an inconvenience. In the UK, rainfall data may inform an art project, but in Bangladesh, it is a tool for survival. If we had a system in the flash flood-prone Chittagong Hill Tracts and Sylhet region where a 15-minute warning of intense downpour would be issued, it would make it easier for residents to evacuate in timely manner. If we had real-time waterlogging monitoring data in Dhaka and other big cities, it would help residents make smarter decisions regarding commuting. This is not science fiction; systems like these already exist around the world.
For our country, this data drought extends far beyond rainfall data. Take Dhaka's toxic air. There are government bodies that monitor this data, but do the public have access to neighbourhood-level live data that would allow a parent to decide whether it is safe for their kid with asthma to play outside? Much ink has been spilt about Dhaka's river pollution, yet do we have updated, publicly available data showing the water quality of Buriganga, Turag and other rivers, or naming the biggest polluters?
In my experience, I have seen four main barriers to open data in Bangladesh. First is availability: data is simply not collected systematically and granularly. Second is accessibility: even when data is collected, it is often not shared publicly. The third barrier is usability: when data is released, it is frequently published in formats like scanned PDFs that have very limited machine readability and analytical usability. And finally, there is the lack of awareness. Even on the rare occasion that an open data platform is created, it remains largely invisible to journalists and researchers due to poor outreach, which leads to the simple yet frustrating truth that unused data is as good as no data at all.
Withholding environmental data stands in direct contradiction to several national and international legal commitments. Bangladesh's own Right to Information Act establishes a citizen's right to know. Bangladesh is also a signatory to the Rio Declaration, principle 10 of which clearly states, "each individual shall have appropriate access to information concerning the environment that is held by public authorities, including information on hazardous materials and activities in their communities".
Of course, fulfilling this commitment will not be an easy task. There will be technological and financial hurdles to overcome in building a robust open data infrastructure. But the biggest hurdle to overcome is not of resources but of mindset. Our policymakers, from civil servants to ministers or advisers, must shift away from a culture of data gatekeeping to one that treats data as a public utility.
With that fresh mindset, establishing a national environmental data hub could be a crucial and practical first step towards the right direction. But this platform cannot be mere lip service; the government must ensure the data hub is regularly updated with a wide range of data, from atmospheric to biodiversity to industrial emissions, all in machine-readable format. The government should also require businesses to release data about waste discharge, emissions and overall environmental footprint. Corporate pollution must be a matter of public record.
At the same time, we journalists, researchers and civil society members should step up our efforts to invest in our own data literacy so that we can investigate, humanise and disseminate data through compelling narratives that can drive public debate and hold those in power accountable.
My experience of turning British rain into music showed me the creative potential of open data. But in Bangladesh, the potential is far more practical: the potential to build a more informed citizenry, smart cities and create more effective disaster warning systems, to name a few. The future we will build depends on the data we set free today.
Muhammad Imran is a data journalist, educator and open data advocate. He can be reached at [email protected].
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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