BANGLADESH has recently ratified three International Labour Organisation conventions — 150, 187 and 190. It sounds like something only bureaucrats might celebrate. But one of them, Convention 190, is not just another number on a treaty list. It speaks to something painfully close to home — dignity at work, freedom from violence and harassment. And if you have ever spoken with a garment worker, a nurse, a domestic helper or even an NGO field officer, you will know this is no abstract issue.
When I first heard the news, I thought of a woman I met in a Savar factory during fieldwork last year. She worked in the sewing section, quiet and skilled, but clearly exhausted. When I asked what ‘safety’ meant to her, she did not talk about fire exits or helmets. She said, ‘Bhai, amader jonno shobcheye boro bhoy holo apoman’ — ‘Brother, the biggest fear for us is humiliation.’
That line still sits heavy with me.
Ìý
Long overdue
CONVENTION 190 is the world’s first international treaty to recognise the right to a workplace free from violence and harassment, including gender-based violence. Think about that. For decades, the world has talked about wages, hours, safety and maternity leave, but not about dignity, about the invisible wounds people carry home after a workday filled with insults, intimidation or inappropriate touching.
By ratifying C190, Bangladesh has declared publicly: we recognise this right. We commit to change.
It is easy to overlook the power of that statement. But for a country where women form the majority of the garment workforce and informal jobs underpin the economy, this is no small matter.
Ìý
Behind glossy word
RATIFYING a convention is not merely signing a document in Geneva. It means Bangladesh must now make its laws and policies reflect the standards the convention demands. That includes clearly defining ‘violence and harassment’ in the labour law, protecting every kind of worker — formal, informal, contractual, domestic — and building real mechanisms for prevention, reporting and redress.
In plain terms: factories will have to adopt anti-harassment policies; supervisors will need training; workers will need safe channels to report abuse; and the state will have to enforce all this with more than symbolic committees and occasional inspections.
It is a tall order, but a necessary one.
Violence at work is not always physical. It hides in words, in gestures, in silence, the sarcastic remark from a line manager, the casual threat of dismissal, the unspoken rule that women must tolerate abuse to keep their jobs.
In interviews with female garment workers, many described a deep weariness: they have learnt to stay quiet, to ‘adjust’. One worker told me, ‘We know complaining doesn’t help. It only brings more trouble.’ Another said, ‘The anti-harassment committee? It’s all management people. We don’t trust them.’
So, when Bangladesh ratifies C190, the real question becomes, will it reach these women? Will they feel the difference? Or will this be another fine piece of legislation gathering dust?
Ìý
Why it still matters
SCEPTICISM aside, ratifying C190 matters for several reasons. First, it forces the state and employers to confront an issue long dismissed as ‘personal’ or ‘social’, not ‘workplace’.
Second, it aligns Bangladesh with evolving global labour standards. In a world where international buyers are increasingly scrutinising working conditions, this can strengthen our position as a responsible producer, not just the world’s cheap sewing floor.
But more importantly, it offers something psychological. For workers who have long been told their pain is invisible, C190 says: your experience counts. You have a right to respect, not merely to survival.
Ìý
Road between paper and practice
RATIFICATION is only the beginning. Implementation will test us and it will not be easy. The Bangladesh Labour Act still lacks a comprehensive definition of harassment. Labour inspectors are few and overworked. Informal workers — domestic workers, day labourers, waste pickers — remain outside the most formal protections.
And then there is a stubborn culture that resists change. When ‘adjusting’ is seen as a virtue and speaking up as rebellion, laws alone cannot fix that. It will take awareness, solidarity and leadership at every level, from factory owners to trade unions, brand buyers to policymakers.
It also requires us to rethink what dignity at work truly means. We must stop asking why a woman or a lower-grade employee did not complain and start asking why they needed to be afraid in the first place.
Ìý
Ripple beyond factory gates
WHAT excites me most is that C190 is not limited to garment factories or industrial labour. It covers anyone working as a domestic helper in Dhanmondi, a call centre employee, a teacher, a nurse, a driver. It recognises that workplace violence has many faces — verbal, psychological, economic — and that protecting workers’ dignity is not charity; it is justice.
If implemented well, it could spark a broader shift in how employers think about mental health, gender equality and social protection. A safer, more respectful workplace is not just good for workers; it is good for productivity, retention and the country’s reputation.
Sometimes I wonder what that woman from Savar would think if she heard about the ratification. Perhaps she would shrug, perhaps smile faintly and say, ‘Dekhi, ki hoy.’Ìý [Let’s see what happens.]
And that is fair. Because change rarely comes overnight in Bangladesh. It comes slowly, through small, quiet acts of courage, one woman speaking up, one manager taking training seriously, one policymaker choosing to listen.
Ratifying ILO Convention 190 will not magically fix the culture of silence. But it cracks the wall. It gives women, and all workers, the language to name what they face and a legal right to demand better.
For once, we are not talking about productivity, exports or gross domestic product. We are talking about something far more human: respect.
And perhaps, years from now, when another young researcher visits a factory floor and asks a woman what ‘safety’ means to her, she will answer differently.
‘Safety means not being afraid anymore.’
Ìý
Md Ariful Islam is a researcher and rights activist, currently working with Ain o Salish Kendra.
