By M. Rahman, PhD, Advisor, Dhaka Straits Times
Every morning in the heart of Dhaka, as offices open and traffic begins its familiar roar, another workforce wakes up—one often unseen in policy discussions, but painfully visible on the roads, in workshops, tea stalls, and markets. These are the children of Bangladesh who work, not out of choice, but out of necessity.
Child labor is not a new issue here. It has lingered like a persistent shadow behind our economic story. While Bangladesh has made significant progress—from lowering extreme poverty rates to expanding primary school enrollment—the presence of working children reminds us of how much more remains to be done.
Take the case of 11-year-old Sohan, who works in a motor repair shop in Tejgaon. His hands are stained with grease, and his thin arms move with the steady familiarity of someone who has learned on the job instead of in a classroom. “My father is sick,” he says quietly. “If I don’t work, we don’t eat.” His voice is not emotional. It is practical because childhood, for him, has already been negotiated away.
According to various child rights organizations, hundreds of thousands of children in Bangladesh engage in labor, many in hazardous conditions. Factories, tanneries, brickfields, informal workshops, and domestic work remain some of the most common sectors. While laws exist—the Bangladesh Labor Act and the National Child Labor Elimination Policy—the gap between legislation and lived reality is wide.
The causes are deeply rooted: poverty, urban migration, broken family structures, and in many cases, the growing cost of living that presses households into survival mode. A mother working as a garment worker in Savar explained, “We want our children to study. But when rent increases, food prices rise, what can we do? A child’s earning becomes part of the family’s oxygen.”
Yet the economic logic that drives child labor comes with a profound social cost. When a child works, it is not only a day’s education lost—but a future compressed. Children learn to survive, but not to dream. They grow up before they grow tall.
However, the narrative is not one of hopelessness. There are promising efforts—NGO-run informal schools, stipend-based education programs, and corporate supply-chain monitoring. But these efforts, while meaningful, often struggle to reach the millions affected.
Experts argue that elimination of child labor is not possible unless we address the socioeconomic ecosystem. Dr. Farhana Begum, a labor rights researcher, notes,
“Child labor is not only a legal issue. It is an economic equation. Families need security first—livelihood, housing, and access to affordable education. Without these, laws will remain words on paper.”
Education must be made more accessible—not just in enrollment, but in affordability, relevance, and flexibility. School hours that recognize working parents’ schedules. Stipends that cover real expenses. Community childcare support for single mothers.
At the policy level, enforcement must be strengthened—not through punitive crackdowns that push child labor further underground, but through collaborative approaches involving local government, employers, unions, and community networks.
And at the societal level, we must shift how we see responsibility. Child labor is not merely the burden of government agencies. It is a collective reflection of how we value childhood itself.
Every time we purchase something cheap—from a roadside factory-produced good to a quick service at a local shop—we should ask the question: Who paid the real price?
To imagine a Bangladesh without child labor is to imagine a Bangladesh where every child holds a pencil instead of a tool, a book instead of a burden. That vision is not impossible. It requires political will, economic commitment, and above all, the courage to place humanity before convenience.
Children should not be the backbone of our economy. They should be the future of it. And the future deserves a chance to grow—slowly, joyfully, and with dignity.
