When the powerful fall, they hire expensive lawyers. When the powerful flee, they invoke international treaties. The S Alam family—accused of looting billions from Bangladesh's banking sector—is now doing both.
The family has filed for arbitration at the World Bank's International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes, claiming Bangladesh's interim government violated a 2004 bilateral investment treaty with Singapore by freezing their assets. Their argument: We're Singaporean nationals now, and you can't touch our money.
Bangladesh has hired international law firm White & Case at $1,250 per hour to fight back. Finance Adviser Salehuddin Ahmed told journalists the case involves "a lot of money" and is "very complicated."
A billion people aren't a statistic—they're a billion stories. But sometimes one family's story involves stealing from millions. The S Alam Group stands accused of embezzling billions during former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina's 15-year tenure, when they built a conglomerate spanning banking, energy, and food sectors.
Here's how the alleged scheme worked, according to Bangladesh's Anti-Corruption Commission: S Alam-controlled banks issued loans to S Alam-controlled companies. Those companies didn't repay. The banks' depositors—ordinary Bangladeshis saving for weddings, medical emergencies, children's education—couldn't withdraw their money.
When Hasina's government fell in August 2024 following mass protests, the interim government moved quickly. They froze S Alam family assets, removed family members from bank boards, and launched investigations into what they called one of Bangladesh's largest-ever financial frauds.
The family fled to Singapore. From there, they're wielding the Bangladesh-Singapore Bilateral Investment Treaty like a shield.
These treaties—signed by countries to protect cross-border investment—allow foreign investors to challenge government actions in international arbitration. The S Alam family claims the interim government's asset freeze amounts to a "campaign of intimidation" that violates their protected investment rights.
It's a familiar playbook for the wealthy. Use citizenship shopping and investment treaties to escape accountability in countries where you allegedly committed crimes. Let international arbitration panels—operating beyond domestic courts—decide whether governments can recover stolen assets.
"This case will test whether bilateral investment treaties can be weaponized to shield corruption," says Dr. Asif Nazrul, a legal expert at Dhaka University. "If the S Alam family wins, it sends a terrible message: Loot a country's banks, get a foreign passport, and you're untouchable."
Bangladesh's banking sector crisis affects 170 million people. Several banks face liquidity crises. Depositors have protested outside branches, unable to access their savings. The interim government is recapitalizing banks, but that money comes from taxpayers.
Meanwhile, the S Alam family's arbitration claim will play out in Washington, D.C., where ICSID is headquartered. The tribunal will consider narrow legal questions: Did Bangladesh violate the treaty? Are the claimants protected investors?
What it won't necessarily consider: Whether the family actually stole the money. Whether freezing assets was necessary to prevent further looting. Whether justice for 170 million Bangladeshis matters more than treaty provisions designed to protect legitimate investment.
The interim government's lead lawyer will argue Bangladesh has legitimate regulatory authority over its banking sector, regardless of investors' nationality. They'll present evidence of fraud and embezzlement. They'll argue the asset freeze was proportionate to the alleged crimes.
But ICSID cases are expensive—White & Case's hourly rate will quickly accumulate millions in legal fees. Bangladesh's foreign reserves are already stretched. The country exported $41 billion while importing $63 billion last fiscal year, creating a $22 billion trade deficit.
Spending scarce foreign currency to defend against arbitration brought by alleged looters adds insult to injury.
"My father's savings are stuck in an S Alam bank," says Nasreen Akhtar, a teacher in Dhaka. "He saved for 30 years. Now he can't withdraw for my brother's medical treatment. And these people are in Singapore, living in luxury, suing us?"
The case highlights a fundamental tension in global finance: Should international investment law protect investors who allegedly obtained their assets through corruption? Can countries that signed treaties decades ago reclaim sovereignty to fight fraud?
Bangladesh's interim government has pledged to reform the banking sector and recover stolen assets. But the S Alam family's Singapore citizenship—and the investment treaty that comes with it—may prove harder to overcome than the regime that allegedly enabled their looting.
The arbitration will take years and cost millions. Meanwhile, depositors wait. And the S Alam family, from exile, deploy the very international legal architecture meant to protect honest investment to shield what Bangladesh alleges was massive theft.
Sometimes the powerful don't just escape justice. They make the victim pay for the trial.
