There are two kinds of ghosts in Bangladesh. One belongs to folklore, haunting banyan trees and abandoned houses. The other arrives every month in a sealed envelope or a mobile app notification. It does not whisper in the dark. It simply tells you that your electricity consumption has mysteriously doubled, your bill has crossed all expectations, and your only option is to pay first and ask questions later.
When ordinary citizens begin calling their electricity bills ‘ghost bills,’ it is tempting to dismiss the phrase as social media exaggeration. But words do not become part of public vocabulary without a reason. Ghost bills have become less about mathematics and more about psychology. They reflect a deeper crisis where consumers no longer trust the numbers placed before them.
The government has responded in a familiar language. Officials have assured that genuine mistakes will be corrected. Distribution companies insist there is no policy irregularity. Consumers are advised to submit written complaints with supporting documents. Ministers explain that increased consumption, revised slabs, air conditioner usage, and misunderstandings account for most of the complaints. Technically, every one of these explanations could be valid in individual cases. Yet public anger refuses to disappear because the problem is no longer only about whether the bill is correct. It is about who carries the burden of proving the truth.
In almost every modern service industry, accuracy is the provider’s responsibility. Imagine a bank mistakenly deducting twice the amount from your account and then asking you to prove the error. Imagine an airline selling the same seat to two passengers and asking them to resolve the dispute among themselves. Such practices would be considered unacceptable. Somehow, when it comes to utility services, the consumer is expected to become an investigator, archivist, and legal petitioner simply to establish that their monthly electricity consumption could not possibly have tripled overnight. The irony is difficult to ignore. The same institutions that encourage citizens to embrace digital systems still expect many consumers to preserve old bills, photograph meters, calculate unit consumption, understand slab structures, and navigate bureaucratic procedures before their grievances deserve attention. Technology was supposed to simplify public services, not transform citizens into forensic accountants.
Perhaps the most revealing statement comes not from official press briefings but from unnamed officials who reportedly acknowledge that fiscal year-end pressures sometimes create incentives to reconcile accounts, increase revenue, or reduce system losses. Whether these pressures directly caused the current controversy is another matter. But the admission itself exposes an uncomfortable truth. When institutional performance is measured through financial targets rather than public confidence, accounting can begin to overshadow accountability. Equally troubling is the instinct to blame the messenger. Reports suggest that some local officials have chosen to accuse the media of amplifying the controversy instead of focusing on resolving complaints. This is hardly surprising. Across many institutions, criticism is often viewed as a public relations problem rather than a governance problem. It is easier to question headlines than to question internal systems.
History offers little comfort. Bangladesh has witnessed ghost bill controversies before. Previous investigations uncovered faulty meters, incorrect meter readings, and technical errors. Each episode was followed by assurances that lessons had been learned. Yet every few years, the ghosts return with remarkable punctuality. If mistakes keep repeating themselves despite repeated promises of reform, then perhaps the real problem lies not in isolated errors but in the architecture of accountability itself.
There is also a curious contradiction in the official narrative. Consumers are simultaneously told that complaints have already been resolved and that anyone with evidence should still submit complaints for further action. If the issue has indeed been comprehensively addressed, why are distribution offices reportedly continuing to receive numerous grievances every day? Public communication cannot operate on two parallel realities indefinitely.
The debate over air conditioners deserves closer examination as well. Yes, electricity consumption naturally increases during hotter months. Yes, revised tariff slabs can significantly raise bills even with moderate increases in usage. But these explanations only reinforce the need for transparent billing rather than blind reassurance. A consumer should not have to rely on ministerial speeches to understand why the amount payable has suddenly increased. Every bill should explain the calculation clearly enough that an ordinary citizen can verify it without consulting engineers or economists.
This is where trust quietly disappears. Transparency is not created by issuing press releases after public outrage. It is created before the controversy begins. Consumers should be able to compare historical consumption, understand tariff changes, verify meter readings digitally, and request independent meter inspections without entering a bureaucratic maze. Confidence grows when systems are designed to prevent disputes rather than merely settle them.
The Consumers Association of Bangladesh is correct in demanding accountability. Accountability, however, cannot end with correcting individual bills. If an incorrect bill reaches a customer, someone within the system made that possible. A correction fixes the symptom. Accountability identifies and reforms the cause. Otherwise, every correction simply prepares the stage for the next controversy.
There is another invisible cost that rarely appears in official statistics. Every disputed bill consumes citizens’ time. People skip work to visit electricity offices, wait in long queues, collect documents, argue with officials, and return repeatedly until their complaints are acknowledged. This hidden administrative burden is paid not in taka but in lost wages, missed opportunities, and accumulated frustration. A corrected bill cannot compensate for those hours.
It is undeniable that Bangladesh’s power sector has achieved remarkable progress in expanding electricity access. Millions who once lived without reliable electricity now enjoy connections. Infrastructure has improved significantly. But infrastructure alone cannot sustain public confidence. Good governance begins where engineering ends. Perhaps the most dangerous consequence of recurring ghost bill controversies is not financial but cultural. Every unexplained bill teaches citizens to suspect institutions. Every confusing explanation strengthens the belief that ordinary people are powerless before official paperwork. Eventually, distrust becomes habitual, even when the system functions correctly. Once public confidence is lost, it is extraordinarily expensive to rebuild. Ghosts, after all, survive only where there is darkness. The cure has never been louder assurances that ghosts do not exist. The cure is turning on the lights.
The electricity sector does not merely supply power to homes. It also powers the relationship between the state and its citizens. Every accurate bill strengthens that relationship. Every disputed bill weakens it. The real issue is not whether this month’s calculations were correct or incorrect. It is whether citizens can trust the system before opening the envelope. Until that question receives a convincing answer, Bangladesh will continue to pay a far greater price than any electricity bill can measure.
The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author
The writer is an Academic, Journalist, and Political Analyst. E-mail: [email protected]
