At the heart of a deeply anticipated labour-market reopening lies a delicate, fragile hope for hundreds of thousands of Bangladeshi families whose loved ones have been waiting for years to work in Malaysia. On a recent afternoon in Dhaka, members of the Bangladesh Association of International Recruiting Agencies—or those supporting the deployment of workers through selected agencies—gathered at the National Press Club to answer critics and calm a storm of rumours that threaten to cloud the resumption of recruitment. The occasion was not merely a press conference; it was a defence of a process, a plea for transparency, and a warning that false narratives could damage a lifeline for workers. With Malaysia and Bangladesh moving forward to restart manpower recruitment after a prolonged suspension, the stakes are enormous. The labour market had been shut since May 31, 2024, when Malaysia stopped recruiting from Bangladesh and several other nations. The months of silence left agencies dormant and workers stranded in uncertainty. Now, as the machinery begins to turn again, the air is charged with both excitement and suspicion, and those who are part of this new chapter insist that the process is honest, lawful, and open to all genuinely qualified players.
At the centre of their message is a demand for fair, honest communication. Atiqur Rahman Biswas, convener of the Labour Market Protection Movement, addressed the press with a straightforward explanation: the recruitment process is not a closed, backroom deal, but a system designed to include those who meet the requirements. He acknowledged that twenty-five licences were initially approved, but explained that after further discussions, all eligible licences were brought under the Foreign Worker Centralised Management System, or FWCMS. This system is meant to centralise and oversee recruitment, bringing it out of opacity and into a controlled, verifiable framework. “This is not syndication. The market is open to all capable and interested licence holders,” Mr. Biswas said, seeking to dismantle the accusations of favouritism that have circulated in recent days. His tone was firm, yet his words carried an underlying frustration: that a process built around rules and qualifications is being twisted into a story of secret alliances. There is a human dimension here, he seemed to suggest—ordinary agencies, licensed under Bangladeshi law, had followed every requirement, submitted every document, and waited patiently for approval. To brand them as part of an exclusive cartel, he insisted, is both unfair and dangerous at a time when the country needs every possible avenue to send its workforce abroad legally and safely.
The background to these anxieties lies in the turbulent history of Bangladeshi migration to Malaysia. The market reopened in August of this year after a prolonged suspension, with Dhaka and Kuala Lumpur working to restore a system that had once sent hundreds of thousands of workers south. According to the speakers, Malaysia has approved 25 principal and 312 associate recruiting agencies from a list of 423 that Bangladesh submitted. That selection, they said, did not involve any financial transactions or hidden payments to secure a place on the list. Instead, agencies were chosen on the basis of prescribed qualifications and conditions that were clearly laid out from the beginning. The repeated emphasis on the absence of money is telling. In a sector that has historically been vulnerable to corruption and exorbitant fees, the question of who gets to send workers, and how much those workers are charged, is never far from the surface. Families borrow land, sell cattle, and gather every taka they can to pay recruitment costs, often in the hope that a job in Malaysia will lift them out of poverty. Any hint that the process itself is compromised can provoke panic, anger, and a loss of confidence in the institutions meant to protect workers. That is why the BAIRA members, and their allies, are so eager to insist that the current reopening is clean, transparent, and guided by the rules set by a foreign government whose demands cannot be negotiated locally.
Looking back at earlier patterns of recruitment makes their case more understandable—and also reveals why scepticism persists. During 2017-18, Bangladeshi workers were sent to Malaysia through just 10 recruiting agencies. Then, in a more expansive phase from August 8, 2022 to May 31, 2024, workers were sent through 101 principal agencies and 250 associate agencies, including Bangladesh Overseas Employment and Services Ltd, the state-owned recruitment body. In total, around 476,000 Bangladeshi workers went to Malaysia during those periods. This history suggests a system that has grown in scale, but also one that has changed its shape repeatedly. For those who were excluded in the most recent round of approvals, the new concentration on 25 principal agencies may feel like a return to a narrower circle rather than a widening of opportunities. But the speakers argue that the landscape is different now: the introduction of the FWCMS ensures that every eligible licence holder is in the same centralised pool, and that no one is left out merely because they lack connections. The message to critics is simple: if you are capable and licensed, the door is not shut. The problem, they claim, is that some agencies and middlemen who failed to qualify in earlier rounds are now attempting to derail the entire reopening—not because the process is faulty, but because they cannot participate in it.
Abdul Gafur Bhuiyan, former senior vice-president of BAIRA, focused on the damage being done by misinformation, particularly the claim that workers would have to spend between Tk 600,000 and Tk 800,000 to go to Malaysia. Such figures are staggering, far beyond the reach of most rural families in Bangladesh. When repeated in village courtyards and social media, they can create a frenzy of fear, convincing desperate workers that they are being lured into debt and exploitation. Mr. Bhuiyan rejected these numbers outright, calling them a smear on the country’s reputation. “This is damaging the country’s image. The country that recruits workers has its own rules and regulations, and we cannot interfere with those rules,” he said. In other words, the cost of migration to Malaysia is not dominated by Bangladeshi agencies alone; it is a product of an international system, shaped by the destination country’s policies, and no amount of local protest or press conference can rewrite those regulations. What the local side can do, he suggested, is ensure that workers are fully informed, that the actual costs are made clear, and that no unauthorised middlemen exploit the confusion for personal gain. The former BAIRA leader also singled out a small group of agencies and brokers, those who had failed to qualify for the previous recruitment process, as the source of much of the disinformation. According to him, these actors are organising events, speaking to journalists, and spreading misleading information with one goal: to obstruct the reopening of a labour market they cannot enter. In this telling, the true villains are not the 25 approved principal agencies, but the voices of those who, having lost their place at the table, are trying to overturn the table itself.
Ultimately, this is a story about trust and reputation, not merely about administrative procedure. The migration sector in Bangladesh has always operated on the promise that workers will be treated fairly and that the government and private agencies will work in their best interest. When that promise is broken, it is not just a single worker who suffers—it is the entire country’s standing in the global labour market. Malaysia is a major destination, and losing it again, or sending workers into a messy, controversial recruitment process, would be a terrible blow to both national pride and the livelihood of countless families. The BAIRA members at the press conference made a point that is difficult to argue with: the agencies included in the process meet the requirements, they have been verified, and the next step is simply to send workers through them. But they also know that the battle will not end with one press conference. The rumours will keep flowing, the costs of migration will be debated, and anxious workers will seek guidance from whoever speaks most convincingly. This is why clarity matters. The government, the recruiting agencies, the media, and even community leaders all have a role to play in separating fact from fiction. Workers need to know exactly which agencies are approved, what fees are lawful, and whom to approach if they are asked for more than they should pay. In the end, the Labour Market Protection Movement’s message is not just for the sceptics—it is a call for the entire industry to hold itself to a higher standard, to protect the image of the country, and to remember that behind every application form and demand letter is a human being with a family, a dream, and a right to be treated with dignity. As the first workers begin to fly to Malaysia, the world is watching not only how quickly the process moves, but how honestly it is conducted. If the system remains genuinely open, and if those who are selected truly are the best qualified, then the reopening may prove to be the beginning of a new era in Bangladeshi migration. If not, the cost will be paid not in lost seats or cancelled flights, but in hopes deferred for years to come.