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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

Income: Craft workers must receive remuneration appropriate to their skills.
Identity: Their identity must be connected to the work they create.
Innovation: They must have opportunities to work with new technologies, develop new products and enter new markets.
Visibility: Craft workers need greater visibility across the fashion industry, media, museums, design, research and luxury retail.
National recognition: The state must provide recognition at the highest level so that becoming a master craftsperson carries genuine social prestige.

At the centre of these five pillars should be an effective craftsperson–designer–brand cycle. Such collaboration remains inadequate in Bangladesh. Yet when weavers, designers and researchers work together, they can create new products, new stories and new markets.

I have personally experienced the success of such collaboration with a designer and a weaver in Mirpur Banarasi. That experience can also be applied in Tangail.

Simply marketing Tangail saree as a handloom product will not be enough.
It must be established as a heritage textile brand, with a diversified product range built around the saree and the distinctive characteristics of Tangail weaving.

A traditional weaving industry can become sustainable only when its market is not restricted to sarees alone.

Depending on Tangail’s weaving techniques, designs and fabric characteristics, new products can include garments, scarves, stoles, cushions and table textiles, bags, home décor, small lifestyle products and fashion accessories.

There could be:
• Everyday Tangail for the general consumer;
• Heritage Tangail featuring specific traditional weaving techniques and quality;
• Premium Tangail using finer yarns, specialised weaving, embellishment and limited production; and
• Collector’s Tangail, consisting of signature pieces by master weavers.

The purpose of this diversification is not to diminish the importance of the saree. Rather, it is to create a broader Tangail textile ecosystem centred around the saree. This would create multiple markets for the same weavers and weaving technologies, reduce dependence on seasonal demand, and give a new generation of designers and entrepreneurs more opportunities to work with heritage techniques. Then the price of a saree would no longer be determined only by the amount of fabric or the cost of production. Its value would also reflect skill, time, provenance, craftsmanship and availability—all of which can form the foundation of a luxury economy.

This is where GI offers one of its greatest possibilities.
A traceability system could be developed for an authentic Tangail saree so that, by scanning a QR code, a customer could learn:
• which village it came from;
• who wove it;
• which loom was used;
• what yarn was used;
• the yarn count;
• which weaving technique was employed; and
• when it was made.

Village → Weaver → Loom → Yarn → Technique → Product
Making this chain visible would mean that GI would no longer function merely as a form of legal protection. It would also create market value.
And when that value is created, the status and acceptance of the weaver—and of craft workers more broadly—would increase.

The role of women in Tangail’s weaving industry needs to be reconsidered.
UNESCO’s description also recognises the roles of women and other family members alongside men in pre-weaving and post-weaving activities.
But if women are seen merely as the wives of weavers or as “supporting labour” within the family, we will waste this potential.

Women can be: artisans, designers, finishers, quality controllers, entrepreneurs, co-operative leaders, online sellers and brand owners.
The age of digital commerce has created opportunities to connect directly from villages with international consumers.
A Women Weavers and Heritage Enterprise Programme could therefore be developed, covering not only weaving but also design, costing, branding, photography, digital marketing, e-commerce and export readiness.

India’s registration of the GI “Tangail Saree of Bengal” raises questions that go beyond the name itself. They concern the product’s actual geographical identity, its history, and its weaving technology. The application was initially filed in 2020 as “Tangail Saree of West Bengal.”

At the preliminary examination stage, several inconsistencies were identified regarding the product’s name. The documents referred to it variously as “Tangail Saree of West Bengal,” “Fulia Tangail Saree,” “Tangail Jamdani,” and “Tangail Saree (Indian variety).” The name was later changed to “Tangail Saree of Bengal” following a recommendation by the consultative group.

More importantly, India’s own application documents link Tangail, Bangladesh, and East Bengal to the history of the saree. Research relating to the Indian GI Journal has also noted that some documents submitted with the application identified Tangail in Bangladesh as the place of origin. This raises a fundamental question: how was a specific geographical name subsequently redefined within such a broad historical and geographical identity under the name “Tangail Saree of Bengal”?

There are also questions concerning its technical identity. The Indian GI Journal refers to the product as “Tangail Saree of Bengal (Jamdani variety)” and mentions extra-weft ornamentation. But Jamdani is not the name of a motif; it is a distinct weaving technique. The question, therefore, is how Tangail’s own designs and motifs are being placed within the identity of a Jamdani weaving technique. The use of this terminology in India’s documentation therefore warrants careful technical scrutiny.

The issue has also moved into the legal arena. The Deputy Commissioner of Tangail has challenged India’s GI registration before the Madras High Court through OP(GI) No. 1 of 2025. In its latest available order dated 8 April 2026, the court recorded that the first respondent had sought dismissal of the case on the ground that the applicant was not a “person aggrieved.” The court directed that this application be listed for hearing along with the main rectification petition. The case remains pending.

While it is important to clearly articulate our position regarding India’s GI registration and the inconsistencies in its documentation, identifying problems in another country’s documents is not enough. We must also establish our own information and narrative about Tangail in the international arena. For this, reliable and authoritative documentation needs to be developed in English alongside Bangla.

When international buyers, researchers, designers, museums and the media look for information about Tangail, we need to ensure that reliable information produced by Bangladesh is readily available to them. Unless our own narrative about Tangail’s history, weaving technology, technical terminology and distinctive identity is established internationally, narratives produced by others may become more influential.
Protecting a GI, therefore, is not only a matter for the courtroom; it is also a matter of information.

A separate zoning policy should also be considered for Tangail’s traditional production centres. This should not be a war against power looms.
Rather, there could be designated Heritage Handloom Zones where handloom clusters receive special protection and incentives.
Such zones could include:

1. Raw-material support;
2. Yarn-dyeing facilities;
3. Yarn and dye banks;
4. Loom repair centres;
5. Design studios;
6. Testing laboratories;
7. Training centres;
8. Apprenticeship programmes; and
9. Digital market support.

And, even on a modest scale, Tangail needs a Heritage Textile Museum.
Where necessary, the establishment of power looms could be regulated within designated buffer zones around traditional clusters.
A blanket ban is not the practical answer. Heritage-sensitive zoning is a more realistic approach.

At the heart of what UNESCO has recognised as heritage is the transmission of knowledge and skills from one generation to another.
Without apprentices, therefore, no safeguarding programme can succeed.
The relevant state authorities could establish a system under which each master weaver trains a specified number of apprentices every year.

Master weavers should receive an honorarium for training, while apprentices should receive stipends during their training. Once they acquire specified skills, apprentices should receive certification.
This could transform becoming a weaver or weaving craftsperson into a structured career path once again.

UNESCO inscription is not the end. It is an international recognition, but it also raises the question of safeguarding responsibility. Bangladesh now needs a Tangail Safeguarding Action Plan. This should not be limited to heritage celebrations. It must contain measurable targets. It could be a five-year action plan.

Over the next five years:
• How many new weavers and weaving-related craft workers will be trained?
• How many handlooms will remain active?
• How many master weavers will receive formal recognition?
• How many women entrepreneurs will be created?
• How many traditional techniques will be documented?
• How many new international markets will be developed?
• By how much will the average annual income of a certified heritage weaver increase?

Without answers to these questions, celebrating UNESCO recognition is easy. Turning that recognition into economic benefit is much harder.
Three priorities for saving Tangail’s weaving industry

A. People and skills: Establishing the craftsperson as a professional
1. National Tangail Artisan Registry:
Create a database covering not only weavers but also master weavers, apprentices, dyers, designers, finishers and all other craft workers connected to the loom.
2. Master Weaver Programme:
Provide national-level recognition and status to skilled weavers and weaving-related craft workers.
3. Master Weaver Apprenticeship Programme:
Provide stipends and structured training for apprentices working under master weavers in order to bring a new generation into the profession.
4. Women’s Heritage Enterprise Mission:
Help women move from skilled workers to entrepreneurs and brand owners.
5. Artisan Income and Social Security:
Alongside low-interest credit, ensure access to health and social protection, recognising craft workers not as informal labourers but as professional craftspeople.

B. Product and market: Connecting Tangail to a new wconomy
1. Premium and Diversified Tangail Market Strategy:
Create distinct heritage and luxury segments alongside everyday products, while developing new markets for garments, accessories, home textiles and lifestyle products beyond the saree.
2. Authentic Tangail Certification:
Introduce a traceability and QR-based authentication system linked to GI.
3. Sustainable Handloom Initiative:
Develop sustainability standards for Tangail handloom by considering the entire value chain—including water, dyes, yarn, energy, waste, repair and reuse—and connect the industry with international markets.

C. Knowledge, conservation and institutions: Preparing the heritage for the future
1. Heritage Handloom Zones:
Provide traditional clusters with dedicated policy protection and incentives.
2. Tangail Design and Knowledge Archive:
Document traditional techniques, construction methods, design vocabulary, motifs and production knowledge.
3. UNESCO Tangail Safeguarding Action Plan:
Develop measurable five- and ten-year national programmes centred on UNESCO inscription.

The most difficult question surrounding the future of Tangail saree is not external competition. It is the domestic labour market.

Legal and diplomatic initiatives must continue to protect Bangladesh’s geographical identity and traditional claims. But the greater challenge lies within the country itself.

The question is: Can Tangail’s weaving industry become a respectable, profitable and future-oriented profession for the next generation?
As the world moves away from the wastefulness of fast fashion and increasingly looks towards durable, repairable, reusable and circular textiles, a new opportunity is emerging for Tangail.

“Future is Handmade” is therefore not merely a statement of emotion or nostalgia. It can become the language of a new market—if we can connect handmade production with fair income, traceability, quality, innovation and sustainability.

Current textile policies of UNEP and the European union are also placing increasing emphasis on durability, reuse, repair, circularity and responsible production. The greatest asset of a heritage product is not its design, its brand, or even its GI status. Its greatest asset is the person who knows how to make it.

If a young person leaves the loom to drive a battery-powered rickshaw, we cannot blame them. They are making a practical decision about their own life. But the state must then ask itself: Why has driving a rickshaw become a more secure future for that young person than sitting at a loom?
Unless we change the answer to that question, no heritage policy will be sustainable in the long run.

To save a craft, it is not enough merely to keep the craftsperson in the profession. We must make becoming a craftsperson attractive.

A young person should be able to sit at a loom and say: This is not my father’s profession. This is my profession. This is my skill. This is my identity. And this is my future. Only then will GI become truly meaningful, UNESCO recognition become truly meaningful, and the future of Tangail saree become genuinely secure. Because heritage does not survive in a certificate. It survives in human hands.

Sources
• UNEP, Sustainability and Circularity in the Textile Value Chain: A Global Roadmap (2023)
• UNEP Textile Initiative, Sustainable and Circular Textiles (updated 2026)
• European Commission, EU Strategy for Sustainable and Circular Textiles (2022, with current implementation updates)