In military strategy, the concept of redundancy is often presented as an unquestionable virtue: it allows forces to survive, adapt, and respond when conventional routes or assets fail. Yet when this logic is transposed from defence doctrine into the political sphere, particularly through pressure or coercion on neighboring states, it transforms from prudence into a mechanism of regional domination. India’s obsession with the narrow Siliguri Corridor—the infamous “Chicken’s Neck” connecting its northeastern states to the rest of the country—is frequently cited by New Delhi’s strategists as a structural vulnerability, a dangerous bottleneck that could be exploited in a conflict scenario.
However, what is striking about the solutions being proposed is not just their technical focus, but the wider strategic mindset they reveal: one that treats the geography of sovereign neighbors, most notably Bangladesh, as a pliable instrument to be reshaped to suit Indian priorities. The Rangpur Corridor, presented under the rather benign codename “Shield,” exemplifies this approach. It is envisaged as a secondary land route through northern Bangladesh, ostensibly to widen the constricted 22-kilometre stretch of the Siliguri Corridor. This chokepoint, hemmed in by hills and vulnerable to artillery fire from the north—particularly from areas such as Doklam—has long been a source of anxiety in New Delhi.
Yet rather than seeking diplomatic solutions, or investing in internal infrastructure that would ease vulnerabilities without trespassing on neighboring lands, the proposed answer is to extend Indian access through Bangladesh. The effect of such an arrangement would be a dramatic widening of India’s northeastern lifeline from 22 kilometers to more than 100, moving critical supply lines out of reach of potential northern threats. From an Indian perspective, this appears as a sensible precaution, a necessary hedge against military risk. From Dhaka, however, it is hard to see it as anything other than an encroachment on sovereignty, framed under the guise of strategic necessity.
A complementary, and perhaps even more ambitious, component of this plan is the so-called “Sword”—the Chittagong Corridor. India’s northeast has historically struggled with overland logistics, with heavy armor and equipment taking days to traverse challenging terrain. Access to Chittagong Port in Bangladesh would, according to Indian military assessments, allow material to be shipped from Visakhapatnam and deployed in the northeast within hours, entirely bypassing the vulnerabilities of the northern corridor. For Indian planners, this is a rational measure, a step towards building a resilient, flexible logistics network. For Bangladesh, however, the implications are profoundly different.
Chittagong is one of the country’s principal ports, a critical node for its own economic activity and a lifeline for trade. To transform it into a route that primarily serves Indian military objectives is to subordinate Bangladeshi national interests to a foreign security agenda. It reframes sovereign territory, infrastructure, and geography as instruments in a power projection exercise, rather than as assets of the state to which they belong. When examined together, the Rangpur and Chittagong proposals reveal a pattern that goes beyond mere military prudence. The result would be a logistics system with three axes: the original Siliguri Corridor, the Rangpur land bridge, and the Chittagong sea route. Internally, India may present this as a prudent diversification of options, an insurance policy against the unpredictabilities of conflict.
Externally, however, it appears as an attempt to normalize the instrumentalization of a neighbor’s territory, to treat Bangladeshi land and ports as extensions of Indian military planning. It is a subtle, insidious form of pressure: framed as mutual interest, yet fundamentally about control. Bangladesh, as a sovereign state, retains the unquestionable right to determine the use of its territory, its corridors, and its ports. Rangpur and Chittagong serve Bangladesh first: Rangpur stabilizes northern territory and ensures secure internal mobility, while Chittagong safeguards vital maritime access for trade and economic growth. Any effort to convert these assets into instruments of another country’s military doctrine undermines the principles of sovereignty that South Asia’s postcolonial order is built upon.
It is an assertion of dominance cloaked as strategy, a hegemonic impulse dressed in the language of prudence. This is not merely a matter of territorial pride. The broader ramifications for regional stability are profound. South Asia, with its dense population, porous borders, and history of tension, cannot afford the normalization of external interference, however technical or rationalized it may appear. Stability is not achieved by exploiting perceived weaknesses or gaps in a neighbor’s geography; it is built on mutual respect, diplomatic engagement, and adherence to internationally recognized principles of sovereignty. Any approach that privileges strategic advantage over these fundamentals risks exacerbating mistrust, perpetuating cycles of suspicion, and closing off avenues for cooperation that could benefit all states in the region.
Furthermore, the assumption that logistical imperatives justify encroachment underestimates the political consequences. Bangladesh is not a passive canvas on which Indian strategic planners can sketch new lines of influence. Its population, political leadership, and institutions are acutely aware of any effort to co-opt their territory, even indirectly. Attempts to turn sovereign land into military transit routes for another country risk not only diplomatic friction but also long-term erosion of trust and goodwill. The strategic landscape of South Asia is shaped as much by perceptions and relationships as by terrain and infrastructure. Disregarding this fact in pursuit of technical military optimization is short-sighted and potentially destabilizing.
History offers lessons that cannot be ignored. Nations that treat neighbors as strategic instruments often find that the costs of such ambitions outweigh any tactical gains. Respect for sovereignty and careful diplomacy are not just moral imperatives; they are practical ones. Bangladesh’s right to control its territory and ports is foundational, and any challenge to this right, whether overt or subtle, constitutes a threat to regional balance.
Ultimately, what India frames as redundancy and resilience risks being perceived by Bangladesh and others in the region as an attempt to impose a hegemonic order, one in which strategic corridors are taken for granted and sovereignty is negotiable. The future of South Asia hinges not on the manipulation of geography or the pursuit of unilateral advantage but on mutual respect and equitable engagement. Bangladesh’s corridors are for Bangladesh to manage; any attempt to claim them under the rubric of another nation’s security doctrine threatens not only trust but the very stability of the region.
