Tangail’s weaving heritage: At crossroads of crisis and possibility

Tangail saree has received two major forms of recognition. One is its legal identity as a Geographical Indication (GI) product of Bangladesh. An even greater cultural recognition came from UNESCO. In 2025, the Traditional Saree Weaving Art of Tangail was inscribed on UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. This recognition extends beyond the saree itself to acknowledge the knowledge, skills and social practices associated with its production.

On paper, this is undoubtedly a major achievement. But it inevitably raises another question: how much have these recognitions actually changed the lives of weavers and other craft workers involved in the production of Tangail saree? And how attractive is this traditional craft as a profession to the younger generation?

It is still difficult to answer these questions positively. That is why we need to rethink what GI and UNESCO recognition actually mean. A heritage textile does not ultimately survive through certificates, logos or registrations. It survives through people and their skills. If those skilled hands leave the loom for other occupations, eventually we may be left with the name Tangail saree, but not with the people who know how to make it.
So the first question should be: What are we actually trying to save?

The answer to that question should be where the formulation of future policy for Tangail begins.

Tangail’s weaving industry is not the same as Tangail saree

It will be difficult to understand the problem if Tangail’s weaving industry and Tangail saree are treated as one and the same.

Tangail’s weaving industry represents a much broader social and economic landscape. It involves weavers from different communities as well as a wide range of labour and skills.

At the same time, the distinctive product identity and brand known as Tangail saree has a historical association in which the Basak weavers have played a particularly important role. Muslim weavers subsequently became significant participants in this production tradition as well. UNESCO’s description also refers to both the Basak and Jola communities and to the transmission of knowledge and skills from one generation to another within families.

Tangail’s weaving industry is not the exclusive property of any single community. But neither can the historical relationship between the Basak community and the brand identity of Tangail saree be denied.
This distinction is extremely important for policymaking.

A conservation policy must therefore be both heritage-specific and socially inclusive. The historical characteristics and technical identity of Tangail saree must be preserved, while all the communities of weavers and craft workers who keep the industry alive today must be recognised as part of the heritage economy.

The objective should not be to establish ownership by one community; it should be to ensure the continuity of skills.

Where is the future of the profession?

Bangladesh’s GI application for Tangail saree identifies a broad geographical area of production. Various areas including Pathrail-Chandi in Delduar, numerous villages in Kalihati and different parts of Tangail Sadar form part of its production landscape.

In other words, Tangail saree is not the product of a single factory or a single village. It is a large and interconnected production ecosystem.

The problem with this ecosystem is that we have learned to count products, but we have not yet learned to count people adequately.

The number of looms is important. But even more important are these questions:

How many active weavers are there? How many master weavers? How many are between 18 and 30 years of age? How many are entering the profession? How many are leaving it? How many women and men are involved in pre-weaving and post-weaving activities? How many apprentices could become skilled weavers or craft workers within the next five years?

Without this information, heritage policy will largely be formulated in the dark.

The Bangladesh Handloom Board’s GI application also refers to training for weavers, marketing support, and pre- and post-weaving assistance. But after obtaining GI status, the next question should be: How can these responsibilities be turned into a measurable safeguarding programme?

Not simply about power looms

When discussing the crisis facing Tangail’s handloom industry, we often point a finger at power looms. That captures only part of the problem, not the whole picture.

Technology itself is not the enemy. Jacquard, Chittaranjan and subsequent technological changes have expanded possibilities for new designs and forms of production in Tangail weaving. Consumer demand and products have also evolved alongside technological change.

So the question should not be whether power looms should exist or not.

The real question is: Which products should remain on handlooms—and why?

The economics of mass-market products and heritage products are not the same.

If a power loom can produce more fabric in less time, forcing handlooms into direct competition with power looms in the general market could be economically disastrous for handloom weaving.

The role of the state, therefore, should not be to shut down power looms. It should be to create a distinct economic space for heritage handloom products.

The number of skilled master weavers is declining

Another major challenge facing Tangail’s weaving industry is the declining number of skilled master weavers.

Many of those who have spent decades mastering the operation of a loom through experience and hands-on learning are now 50 or older. At the same time, insufficient numbers of young people are entering the profession to replace them.

The result is a serious generational gap.

A skilled master weaver does much more than operate a loom. Their experience encompasses an understanding of yarn, tension control, reading designs, identifying problems with the loom and maintaining the quality of the fabric, along with many other subtle skills.

Losing a master weaver, therefore, does not simply mean losing a worker. It means losing a repository of knowledge.

Much of this knowledge is acquired outside formal educational institutions, through years of practice, and passed from one generation to the next. It can be described as a form of guru-to-disciple knowledge transmission.

From looms to battery-powered rickshaws

This problem exists in many weaving regions. But Tangail’s situation needs to be viewed somewhat differently.

For a young person choosing a profession, tradition may matter—but it cannot be the only factor determining that choice. They also need income, independence, social status and a sense of security about the future.
A person may earn at most around Tk 500 a day working at a loom. By driving a battery-powered rickshaw, it is possible to earn at least twice as much.

A young person choosing the rickshaw, therefore, is making a perfectly rational economic decision. They cannot be blamed for it. A battery-powered rickshaw is not a symbol of a “bad profession”. It is simply an alternative available in the labour market. And that is precisely what reveals the depth of the problem.

Here lies a major international opportunity for Tangail. Around the world, the fashion and textile industries are moving towards sustainability and circularity. The United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) has identified three broad priorities for making textile value chains more sustainable and circular: changing consumption patterns, improving production methods and investing in infrastructure.

The European Union’s Sustainable and Circular Textiles Strategy is likewise promoting longer-lasting, repairable, recyclable and higher-quality textiles.

The future of fashion, therefore, is not simply about producing more and selling faster. It is also about durability, repair, reuse and reducing waste.

This transformation can create new opportunities for handloom and handmade products.

A handmade product has a direct relationship with the skill of the craftsperson, the time invested, local knowledge and the production process itself.

So “Future is Handmade” should not remain merely an attractive slogan. It must be connected to Tangail’s economy.

The future of handmade will become meaningful only when three things rise together: market value, craftsperson income and social status.

At the same time, we should not automatically assume that handloom is sustainable simply because it is handmade.

Sustainability must be considered across the entire value chain—yarn, dyes, water, energy, production, use, repair, reuse and waste.

But the emerging global demand for more sustainable textiles can create an important market opportunity for traditional handloom regions such as Tangail.

We do not need to “save” weavers, we need to glorify their profession.

This is where the philosophy of our heritage and traditional craft policies needs to change.

We generally view craft workers as poor, marginalised, disadvantaged and dependent on assistance. Yet we simultaneously expect these same people to preserve our heritage.

That is not how a heritage economy is created.

A master weaver must receive the respect and value accorded to a master craftsperson.

At the same time, their skills must have market value. Their work must have an identity. They must have their own names attached to what they create.

A customer should be able to say: “This saree was woven by Master Weaver X.” Just as the name of a fashion designer can increase the value of a product, the name of a craftsperson should also be capable of creating value. We need to build an ecosystem in which that becomes possible. Then a young person is no longer simply continuing their father’s profession. They are choosing a creative profession of their own.