The United States–Bangladesh “Agreement on Reciprocal Trade,” signed on February 9, 2026, in Washington, has now moved from diplomatic talking point to public document. And with that transition—from secrecy to scrutiny—has come a sharper, more unsettling realization: what was presented as a pathway to deeper economic partnership increasingly resembles a framework that privileges U.S. commercial interests while narrowing Bangladesh’s policy space at a critical moment in its development trajectory.
At the center of this controversy stands the interim administration led by Nobel laureate Professor Muhammad Yunus. His government has promoted the agreement as pragmatic, forward-looking, and essential for integration into the US market.
Yet the content of the agreement, the process of its negotiation, and the voices now emerging from within and outside government tell a different story—one that raises serious questions about sovereignty, accountability, and whose interests were ultimately served. This is not merely a trade deal. It is a test case for how Bangladesh negotiates power in an unequal world.
A deal defined by asymmetry
Trade agreements are, by nature, instruments of compromise. But not all compromises are equal. The structure of this agreement suggests a clear imbalance.
Bangladesh is required to reduce or eliminate tariffs on U.S. goods across a range of sectors. The United States, by contrast, retains broad discretion over its own tariff regime. This is not reciprocity in any meaningful sense; it is managed access tilted in one direction.
The implications are immediate. Tariffs remain one of the few effective tools available to developing economies to protect nascent industries, manage import surges, and maintain fiscal stability. Surrendering that flexibility—particularly without equivalent concessions—raises questions about long-term economic resilience.
The Centre for Policy Dialogue has already warned that Bangladesh could lose more than Tk 1,300 crore annually in revenue as a result of tariff reductions. But the fiscal impact is only part of the story. The deeper issue is structural: the agreement constrains Bangladesh’s ability to shape its own industrial future.
Policy space under pressure
Beyond tariffs, the agreement introduces obligations that touch on core elements of domestic policymaking.
The “national treatment” clause requires Bangladesh to treat U.S. goods no less favorably than its own. On paper, this is a standard provision. In practice, it limits the government’s ability to prioritize domestic producers—especially in sectors where local capacity is still developing.
Similarly, provisions related to sanitary and phytosanitary standards effectively push Bangladesh toward recognizing U.S. regulatory determinations. While framed in the language of efficiency and harmonization, such clauses can reduce the autonomy of domestic regulators and shift the balance of decision-making outward.
Perhaps most consequential are the intellectual property commitments. By aligning more closely with stringent global IP standards, Bangladesh risks eroding one of its key advantages in pharmaceuticals: the ability to produce affordable generic medicines under flexibilities allowed to least-developed countries. The long-term cost of this shift may not be measured in trade balances, but in access to healthcare.
Taken together, these provisions suggest a pattern. This is not simply about trade liberalization; it is about redefining the boundaries of national policy.
Agriculture at risk
Few sectors illustrate the stakes more clearly than agriculture.
The agreement explicitly opens Bangladesh’s market to U.S. agricultural products, including meat, dairy, and grain. For a country where millions depend on small-scale farming and livestock for their livelihoods, this is not a marginal change. It is a direct challenge.
U.S. agricultural producers benefit from economies of scale, advanced technology, and, in many cases, substantial government support. Competing against such advantages is difficult for any developing country, let alone one with fragmented rural economies.
Former Fisheries and Livestock Adviser Farida Akhter captured this concern with unusual candor. Speaking at a roundtable discussion in Dhaka on March 14, 2026, she said, “Even knowing that it was against national interest, I could not stop this agreement from within the government.” She warned that the deal creates obligations to import meat and dairy products—sectors that sustain large segments of Bangladesh’s rural population.
Her remarks point to a broader truth: policy decisions made in negotiation rooms often have their most profound effects in places far removed from them—in farms, markets, and households across the country.
A question of process
If the substance of the agreement raises concerns, the process by which it was negotiated raises even more.
Transparency appears to have been limited. Key stakeholders within the government were reportedly not involved in discussions. Former Law Adviser Asif Nazrul stated in an interview with BBC Bangla, reported on April 6, 2026, “I was never called to any of the agreements that were signed with the United States.”
Farida Akhter went further, suggesting that non-disclosure arrangements prevented even insiders from understanding the full scope of negotiations.
This lack of inclusivity matters. Trade agreements are not technical documents to be handled in isolation; they are instruments that shape national development. Their legitimacy depends not only on their outcomes, but on the processes that produce them.
When those processes exclude voices—especially dissenting ones—they risk producing agreements that lack both balance and public trust.
The “America First” question
All of this leads to a more uncomfortable question: under what framework was this agreement negotiated?
The phrase “America First” has become shorthand for a particular approach to international engagement—one that prioritizes U.S. economic and strategic interests, often with limited regard for asymmetry. While it is neither surprising nor unreasonable for any country to pursue its own interests, the responsibility of the negotiating partner is to ensure that such interests are balanced, not simply accepted.
Critics argue that the Yunus-led administration failed in this regard. By agreeing to terms that expand U.S. access while constraining Bangladesh’s flexibility, the government appears to have internalized a framework that places U.S. priorities at the center.
Economist Anu Muhammad, speaking at a seminar in Dhaka on March 13, 2026, framed the issue starkly. “Those involved in the trade agreement with the United States must be brought under punishment,” he said, arguing that the deal leaves Bangladesh “tied hand and foot.” He added that what has been observed so far is that “the United States comes first.”
Whether one agrees with his rhetoric or not, the underlying concern resonates: whose priorities shaped this agreement?
From partnership to dependency?
Supporters of the deal may argue that deeper integration with the U.S. economy brings benefits—greater access to markets, increased investment, and enhanced credibility. These are not trivial advantages.
But integration without balance can slide into dependency.
When policy space narrows, when domestic industries face pressures they are ill-equipped to absorb, and when regulatory autonomy is diluted, the long-term effect is not partnership but constraint.
Bangladesh has, over the past decades, built a development model that balances openness with strategic protection. It has leveraged trade while preserving key areas of autonomy. The question now is whether this agreement shifts that balance too far.
The politics of accountability
The political fallout from the agreement is already visible.
Public concern is growing. Civil society voices are becoming more vocal. Even figures associated with the political transition that brought the interim government to power are expressing unease.
This is not simply a policy debate; it is an accountability moment.
If the agreement is as consequential as it appears, then those who negotiated it must be prepared to explain its terms, defend its trade-offs, and address its risks. That includes not only current officials, but those who shaped the process behind closed doors.
Accountability, in this context, is not about assigning blame for its own sake. It is about ensuring that decisions of this magnitude are subject to scrutiny—and, if necessary, revision.
What comes next?
The agreement has not yet entered into force. This creates a narrow but important window.
Bangladesh can still review the terms, seek clarifications, and, if necessary, renegotiate aspects that pose disproportionate risks. Doing so would not signal weakness; it would signal seriousness about national interest.
At the very least, a transparent review process—one that includes economists, industry representatives, farmers, and civil society—would help restore confidence.
The alternative is to proceed as planned, allowing the agreement to take effect while debates continue outside the structures of decision-making. That path may be administratively simpler, but it carries higher long-term costs.
A defining moment
Trade agreements often reveal more than they intend. They expose priorities, assumptions, and the balance of power within and between countries.
This agreement does all three.
It reveals a negotiation that appears tilted, a process that seems constrained, and a set of outcomes that demand careful reconsideration. It also reveals a deeper tension: between the desire to engage globally and the need to preserve national agency.
For Bangladesh, this is not just about one agreement. It is about how the country positions itself in a world where economic relationships are rarely equal.
For the Yunus administration, it is a defining test. Leadership in such moments is not measured by the ability to sign agreements, but by the willingness to reassess them when legitimate concerns arise.
The debate now unfolding is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign that the public, policymakers, and experts are doing what they should: asking hard questions about decisions that will shape the country’s future.
Those questions deserve clear answers.
Writer: Pulack Ghatack — Journalist and Analyst
