Bay of Bengal, Great Power Politics and Bangladesh’s Defining Test

 

Recently U.S. President Donald Trump has issued a “threat” to take control of Greenland, the autonomous territory of Denmark. He justified this ambition by emphasizing Greenland’s strategic significance and its mineral resources. Yet intertwined with this Greenland takeover narrative is another American aspiration—one that involves Bangladesh’s Bay of Bengal. Here, too, the rationale is the same: strategic importance and natural resources.

If, in the near future, the U.S. president were to threaten the Bay of Bengal in the same way Greenland has been discussed, it would hardly be surprising. This plan is far from new; it is long-standing. From a South Asian geopolitical perspective, the Bay of Bengal is crucial for countering major powers—particularly Russia, China, and India. For this reason, Bangladesh’s maritime space holds immense strategic value for Washington. If Bangladesh fails to maintain a balanced diplomatic stance, it risks being reduced to a buffer state—and ultimately becoming a sacrificial pawn.

In such a scenario, the actors of the ‘deep-state’ may fuel proxy war with neighboring country India while remaining absorbed in advancing their own strategic interests. Recent developments increasingly reflect such patterns in the language of geopolitics. 

When U.S. President Donald Trump spoke of Greenland as a territory of strategic necessity—rich in minerals, vital for security, and therefore negotiable in geopolitical terms—the world reacted with disbelief and satire. Yet beneath the rhetoric lay a familiar logic of power politics: geography plus resources equals leverage.

For Bangladesh, the Greenland episode should not be viewed as an isolated anomaly, but as a warning signal from an international system that is rapidly shedding its moral pretenses. In an era defined by great-power rivalry, rules are increasingly interpreted through the prism of power. Strategic spaces are not respected for their sovereignty alone; they are assessed for utility. The Bay of Bengal, once peripheral in global calculations, is now firmly embedded in the geopolitics of the Indo-Pacific.

This transformation did not occur overnight. The Bay of Bengal connects the Indian Ocean to Southeast Asia, carries a significant share of global maritime trade, and sits adjacent to critical energy routes. Submarine cables transmitting global data traffic run through its waters. Its seabed holds untapped resources, while its coastline offers ports capable of reshaping regional logistics. As China expands its maritime footprint, Russia seeks warm-water relevance, and India asserts its regional role, the United States views the Bay of Bengal as a strategic counterweight—a maritime hinge in its broader containment architecture.

Bangladesh’s position within this geography is not incidental; it is central. With one of the longest coastlines in the northern Bay, an expanding blue economy agenda, and growing port infrastructure, Bangladesh occupies a space that cannot be ignored by global planners. This attention, however, comes with a paradox: the more strategically valuable Bangladesh becomes, the greater the pressure it faces to align.

Here lies the first critical dilemma. Strategic partnerships are often presented as benign or mutually beneficial, but in asymmetric relationships, the stronger party sets the terms. For Washington, engagement in the Bay of Bengal is rarely framed as domination; it is couched in the language of “security,” “freedom of navigation,” and “regional stability.” Yet history shows that such language can mask expectations of access, compliance, and alignment. Bangladesh must ask a hard question: at what point does cooperation blur into constraint?

The danger is not an overt threat or territorial claim, but a gradual erosion of strategic autonomy. Military exercises today can become basing expectations tomorrow. Intelligence cooperation can evolve into surveillance dependence. Economic incentives may come attached with political strings. When this happens incrementally, resistance becomes harder—not because sovereignty disappears overnight, but because it is diluted through normalized concessions.

Equally concerning is the logic of proxy dynamics. Modern great-power competition rarely manifests as direct confrontation. Instead, it operates through influence networks, regional rivalries, and strategic triangulation. South Asia, with its historical tensions and unresolved disputes, is particularly vulnerable to this approach. Bangladesh risks becoming a theater of pressure—economic, political, and psychological.

India’s role complicates this equation further. As a dominant regional power with its own Bay of Bengal doctrine, India is both a stakeholder and a competitor in the maritime space. Deep-state’s internal and external factors may seek to leverage Indo-Bangladesh relations—sometimes subtly, sometimes overtly—to advance their own strategic goals. In such scenarios, Bangladesh could find itself squeezed between competing expectations: align more closely with one power to balance another, or risk isolation.

This is precisely how buffer states are manufactured—not through invasion, but through strategic conditioning. A buffer state is not weak by default; it is constrained by the interests of others. It exists to absorb pressure, not to shape outcomes. For Bangladesh, the risk is not becoming irrelevant, but becoming indispensable in ways that deny it choice.

This brings us to the concept of nationalism in the twenty-first century. Bangladeshi nationalism cannot afford to be reactive or rhetorical. It must be strategic. True nationalism today is measured not by slogans, but by the ability to protect decision-making space. It requires an understanding that sovereignty is not defended only at borders, but at negotiating tables, in policy frameworks, and in long-term planning.

The Bay of Bengal offers Bangladesh an opportunity to redefine itself—not merely as a coastal state, but as a maritime power with agency. This demands a coherent national maritime strategy that integrates security, economy, environment, and diplomacy. Without such a framework, decisions will remain ad hoc, reactive, and vulnerable to external influence. Ports, for instance, are not just economic assets; they are strategic instruments. Who builds them, who operates them, and under what terms matters profoundly. The same applies to undersea cables, energy exploration, and naval cooperation. Transparency in these domains is not optional—it is essential. Strategic opacity may benefit ‘opportunist elites’ in the short term, but it weakens the state in the long run.

The responsibility does not lie with the state alone. Intellectuals, journalists, and civil society actors have a crucial role to play. Strategic silence creates a vacuum that external narratives eagerly fill. When decisions affecting national sovereignty are made without public scrutiny, the cost is often paid later—quietly, irreversibly. A vigilant society is not anti-development or anti-partnership; it is pro-accountability.

The coming years will test Bangladesh’s leadership as never before. Those who assume state power will face an unforgiving global environment where neutrality is questioned and balance is difficult. This is the acid test of statesmanship: the ability to engage all powers without being owned by any. Short-term diplomatic applause must not come at the expense of long-term strategic freedom.

The lesson from Greenland, ultimately, is not about acquisition, but about mindset. It reveals how major powers perceive the world when competition intensifies: territories become assets, allies become instruments, and principles become negotiable. Bangladesh must recognize this reality without succumbing to cynicism or fear. The Bay of Bengal can either become Bangladesh’s shield or its soft underbelly. The difference lies in foresight. Strategic maturity means anticipating pressure before it arrives, setting boundaries before they are tested, and investing in national capacity before dependence sets in. Geography has given Bangladesh importance. History will judge whether it also develops wisdom.

In this defining moment of South Asian geopolitics, Bangladesh must resist the temptation of strategic comfort and embrace the discipline of strategic clarity. The Bay of Bengal is no longer just water—it is power. How Bangladesh navigates it will determine not only its place in the region, but the resilience of its sovereignty in an increasingly transactional world.


Emran Emon is Sub Editor at The Asian Age. 
He can be reached at 
[email protected]