Tuesday, 27 January, 2026
Poverty is not merely the absence of income; it is the absence of access. When money moves faster, societies behave differently. As connectivity increasingly defines productivity, the central question of poverty reduction has never been how much money exists, but how quickly, cheaply and reliably it can reach the bottom of the economic pyramid.
The answer began to take shape on 3 April 1973, at a time when a newly independent, war-ravaged Bangladesh was edging towards famine. Standing on a New York street, Martin Cooper, an engineer at Motorola, made the world’s first call from a handheld mobile phone—deliberately dialling a rival engineer. The moment appeared unremarkable, almost casual. Yet it set in motion one of the most consequential transformations of modern history.
Half a century later, the mobile phone has rewritten the grammar of daily life. From zero users in 1973, global mobile adoption surged to more than 7.1 billion people by 2021. Today, over 91 per cent of the world’s population owns a mobile phone, and nearly 90 per cent lives within reach of a commercial wireless signal.
What began as an executive accessory has become a basic utility. More people now possess a mobile phone than enjoy reliable access to clean water or electricity—an extraordinary inversion of development priorities driven by the speed, scale and reach of digital technology.
In the developing world, this shift carried profound implications. Connectivity became productivity. The mobile phone opened a window of opportunity to accelerate the long and uneven war against poverty. The transformation became more dramatic when the device evolved into mobile money—an innovation the poor embraced as a gateway out of exclusion and a means of escaping the bottom of the economic pyramid by strengthening economic agency.
Mobile money enables fast, low-cost and secure payments, savings and transfers. For poor households, this means the ability to manage shocks, reduce transaction costs and participate in the economy without relying on traditional banks. It allows people to transact from their homes, store money securely and retain a greater share of their income—especially those working in the informal economy who had long been excluded from formal finance.
From Kenya to Bangladesh
The modern mobile money revolution began in Kenya. In 2007, a phone in the hand of a smallholder farmer became a bank. M-Pesa, operating under a telecom-led model, did not merely transfer money—it rewired the economy. A basic handset became a tool of survival and dignity, breaking the monopoly of branch-based banking.
Bangladesh followed not by copying Kenya, but by adapting its lessons. In 2011, Bangladesh Bank issued formal Mobile Financial Services (MFS) guidelines, opting for a bank-led model supported by nationwide agent networks. The launch of bKash the same year demonstrated how a simple device could be transformed into a powerful instrument of financial inclusion.
Within a decade, mobile money travelled from East Africa to South Asia, reshaping daily life in Bangladesh. Crowded queues at bank counters gave way to quiet transactions on village roads and city streets. This was not merely a story of technology. It was a story of power, access and the gradual erosion of poverty’s monopoly.
By 2026, a phone in the hand of a Bangladeshi farmer had effectively become a digital bank. bKash, operating under a bank-led model, evolved far beyond person-to-person transfers. A simple handset became a lifeline of survival and dignity of a huge population more than Kenyea’s M-Pesha have, shattering the monopoly of branch-based banking.
Now farmers, micro-merchants, migrant workers, urban consumers and small entrepreneurs could send and receive payments, pay suppliers, accept digital sales proceeds, save money and even access collateral-free loans instantly. What began as a poverty-focused innovation became indispensable across income groups.
Explosive Growth and Everyday Adoption
Bangladesh’s MFS industry has experienced explosive growth. By November 2024, monthly transactions had surged to 652 million, with a total value of Tk 1.57 trillion. Throughout 2024, monthly transaction volumes consistently exceeded Tk 1 trillion, reflecting how deeply MFS mobile financial services (MFS) have embedded themselves in daily economic life. Inward remittances routed through MFS platforms rose sharply, reaching Tk 12.41 billion in December alone.
By the end of 2024, Bangladesh had at least 238.68 million mobile money accounts—around 11.36 per cent of the global total. In 2024, the country accounted for approximately 8.61 per cent of global daily mobile money transactions, processing average daily values of about Tk 4,833 crore (roughly US$396 million).
Mobile money reshaped domestic remittances, retail payments and government-to-person disbursements. Social safety-net payments, stipends and Covid-19 emergency transfers increasingly flowed through MFS platforms, reducing leakage and delays. For the first time, large segments of the informal economy became digitally visible, strengthening transparency and improving policy delivery.
Women, Remittances and Resilience
This transformation had profound social effects. Women gained greater control over household finances. Rural households received funds directly, reducing dependence on middlemen. Informal workers entered the financial system without traditional bank accounts. By 2025, more than 43 per cent of mobile money accounts were held by women—many in rural areas where formal access had previously been limited.
Remittances are not merely money; they are lifelines. Globally, they touch the lives of nearly one billion people and often constitute 60 per cent or more of household income. Women dominate remittance receipt and conversion into food, education and resilience. Mobile money made these flows faster, safer and more reliable.
The Covid-19 pandemic reinforced a critical truth: digital money is not a convenience—it is survival infrastructure. During lockdowns, households relied on mobile money to purchase food, medicines and utilities from home. The cashless journey accelerated rapidly, particularly in Bangladesh, where mobile payments became a necessity rather than a choice.
Poverty Reduction: Evidence and Limits
Mobile money did not eliminate poverty, but it changed its mechanics. Financial inclusion in Bangladesh rose from below 50 per cent in 2017 to over 65 per cent by 2022, driven largely by mobile money services reaching rural and underserved populations. Bangladesh’s poverty rate declined from about half the population in the 1990s to roughly one-fifth by 2019.
Between 2010 and 2016, the national poverty rate fell from 31.5 per cent to 24.3 per cent. Empirical studies attribute a meaningful share of this decline to mobile money-enabled reductions in transaction costs and increased local economic activity. Each additional Tk 1 billion (around US$11.76 million) in bKash transactions is associated with a 0.71 percentage-point reduction in district-level poverty, statistically significant at the 95 per cent confidence level. The strongest effects are observed in the poorest districts.
Yet progress has proven fragile. According to BBS data released in January 2025, poverty stood at 19.2 per cent, compared with 18.7 per cent in 2022. A separate survey by the Power and Participation Research Centre estimated poverty at 27.93 per cent in 2025, with extreme poverty rising from 5.6 per cent to 9.35 per cent. Inflation, slower growth and post-pandemic shocks have exposed renewed vulnerability.
Globally, the picture is equally sobering. UNDP’s 2025 Multidimensional Poverty Index estimates that 1.1 billion people remain multidimensionally poor. Around 831 million people were living in extreme poverty in 2025. Roughly 1.3 billion adults worldwide still lack any formal financial account.
Yet mobile money revolution continues to demonstrate resilience. Global Findex 2025 shows that 40 per cent of adults in Sub-Saharan Africa use mobile money, often outnumbering traditional bank account holders. The sector contributed an estimated US$190 billion to regional GDP in 2023, underscoring its growing economic significance.
Resistance, Reform and Regulatory Resolve
No revolution is born in comfort. Bangladesh’s mobile money journey began in the heat of conflict—marked by regulatory battles, institutional uncertainty and political pressure.
The country’s policymakers faced a decisive choice: should the future of digital finance be bank-led or telecom-led? Before rules could be written, powerful mobile operators pushed the boundaries, launching transactions without formal approval and daring the state to respond.
Bangladesh Bank eventually stepped in, asserting firm control and restoring order. It was not merely a bureaucratic victory; it was a battle for the very architecture of the nation’s financial future.
Yet the ecosystem remained vulnerable, haunted by actors operating beyond the central bank’s regulatory perimeter—sometimes reportedly shielded by political influence. Still, through pressure and provocation, the central bank’s stewardship held firm, shaping the path of the revolution.
Until the late 2000s, formal banking was a distant dream for rural populations, informal workers and women. High costs, long distances and rigid documentation barred them from financial life. Exclusion was not accidental; it was built into the system.
The turning point came in 2011, when Bangladesh Bank issued guidelines allowing 27 banks to offer bank-led mobile financial services through nationwide agent networks. Dutch-Bangla Bank was first to enter, followed by others partnering with fintech firms.
Within months, bKash—a joint venture of BRAC Bank—surged ahead, spreading its network from capital city’s Motijheel to Majherchor, the remote islands of Bhola. The scale of adoption was unprecedented, and the country’s financial map was redrawn. Soon, fintech rival SureCash entered the market, and 29 banks launched mobile wallets. By 2016, 19 firms had rolled out services; competition intensified and the sector consolidated to 13 active providers.
The launch of MFS operators proved that mobile phones—already ubiquitous across rural and urban Bangladesh—could be transformed into financial lifelines. By 2015, registered mobile money accounts had surpassed traditional bank accounts in reach. By 2024, the country recorded over 120 million registered MFS accounts, with daily transactions exceeding Tk 2,500 crore, according to central bank data. The majority of users were low- and middle-income households—proof that the revolution was rising from the ground, not descending from above.
But the journey was never smooth. The central bank initially faced intense pressure from mobile network operators, sparking fierce debate over the bank-led model. Later, the sector faced major governance and compliance challenges, most notably with the launch of Nagad by the government’s postal department.
Operating outside the established regulatory framework, Nagad relied on temporary approvals and a partnership with the Bangladesh Post Office—an arrangement inconsistent with the bank-led model required by MFS regulations. For years it functioned without a formal licence, distorting the competitive landscape and testing the limits of the regulatory system.
Throughout this process, journalists became a crucial force—exposing risks, documenting abuses and forcing institutions to answer. The result was not merely regulatory clarity, but a fragile, hard-won institutional trust.
The Revolution That Must Reach the Last Mile
History is not only the tale of great inventions, but also the quiet story of tools that broadened who could belong. Despite the tremendous success of the MFS revolution in Bangladesh, the transformation remains incomplete when we look at the smallest shops—the corner stores that hold communities together, one small sale at a time.
Across continents and languages, the corner shop is a constant—duka in Kenya, kirana in India, corner shop in Bangladesh. These micro-retailers may be small, but they are the heart of daily life. They are the first port of call for essentials, the informal lenders of last resort and the quiet engines of local economies. And yet, despite their centrality, they remain structurally vulnerable.
Rahima Begum’s shop in Dhaka is not an exception; it is the rule. Her store is woven into a dense, informal architecture that has sustained Bangladesh’s poor for generations—long before the words “mobile money” entered public discourse. Her local bKash agent is not merely a service provider but a trusted anchor in a world where cash and credit are constantly in tension. Through him, digital value becomes practical money.
In the daily rhythm of her shop, the gaps in the system are visible. Customers pay digitally, but suppliers still demand cash. Deliveries are unpredictable, prices shift without warning, and informal credit is the only thing that keeps the shop moving. Digitisation promises to reorder these relationships—transparent pricing, reliable delivery, embedded credit. For manufacturers, it offers control and visibility. For Rahima, it offers fewer surprises and less risk.
Yet this transformation is not without cost. Informal credit—flexible, forgiving, human—is replaced by rigid repayment schedules. Efficiency can come at the price of elasticity. Data can unlock working capital, but it cannot account for illness, seasonal hardship or sudden school fees. Digital finance improves access, but inclusion remains incomplete. The poorest customers still rely on cash. The smallest retailers still operate at the edge of creditworthiness. The system works, but unevenly.
And it is in this unevenness that the true test of the MFS revolution lies. Not in aggregate transaction figures, not in valuations, not in headlines—but in whether lives like Rahima’s become less precarious, more predictable and marginally freer from the tyranny of scarcity.
The MFS revolution has already changed Bangladesh. It has expanded access, reduced risk and brought the poor into the financial mainstream. Yet the question that remains is the most important one: can mobile money lift Bangladesh’s poor—not only in theory, but in the daily reality of their lives?
The answer is not a statistic. It is the quiet possibility that, one day, Rahima will not have to borrow to survive the week. It is the possibility that her customers will no longer rely on credit to eat. It is the possibility that the poor will finally be treated not as a problem to be managed, but as citizens whose economic lives matter. If mobile money can deliver that, it will have become a revolution. If not, it will remain a promise that reached the edges—but never truly lifted them.
The Bottom Lines
The MFS revolution has already changed Bangladesh. It has expanded access, reduced risk and brought the poor into the financial mainstream. But the question that remains is the most important one: can mobile money lift Bangladesh’s poor—not only in theory, but in the daily reality of their lives?
The answer will not be found in transaction volumes or corporate valuations. It will be found in whether the poorest households gain genuine economic breathing space, whether micro-retailers like Rahima can transform fragility into stability, and whether digital finance can deliver not just convenience, but lasting dignity.
If it does, the revolution will have fulfilled its promise. If it does not, it will remain another technology that reached the margins without truly lifting them.
Comments
Poverty is not merely the absence of income; it is the absence of access. When money moves faster, societies behave differently. As connectivity increasingly defines productivity, the central question of poverty reduction has never been how much money exists, but how quickly, cheaply and reliably it can reach the bottom of the economic pyramid.
The answer began to take shape on 3 April 1973, at a time when a newly independent, war-ravaged Bangladesh was edging towards famine. Standing on a New York street, Martin Cooper, an engineer at Motorola, made the world’s first call from a handheld mobile phone—deliberately dialling a rival engineer. The moment appeared unremarkable, almost casual. Yet it set in motion one of the most consequential transformations of modern history.
Half a century later, the mobile phone has rewritten the grammar of daily life. From zero users in 1973, global mobile adoption surged to more than 7.1 billion people by 2021. Today, over 91 per cent of the world’s population owns a mobile phone, and nearly 90 per cent lives within reach of a commercial wireless signal.
What began as an executive accessory has become a basic utility. More people now possess a mobile phone than enjoy reliable access to clean water or electricity—an extraordinary inversion of development priorities driven by the speed, scale and reach of digital technology.
In the developing world, this shift carried profound implications. Connectivity became productivity. The mobile phone opened a window of opportunity to accelerate the long and uneven war against poverty. The transformation became more dramatic when the device evolved into mobile money—an innovation the poor embraced as a gateway out of exclusion and a means of escaping the bottom of the economic pyramid by strengthening economic agency.
Mobile money enables fast, low-cost and secure payments, savings and transfers. For poor households, this means the ability to manage shocks, reduce transaction costs and participate in the economy without relying on traditional banks. It allows people to transact from their homes, store money securely and retain a greater share of their income—especially those working in the informal economy who had long been excluded from formal finance.
From Kenya to Bangladesh
The modern mobile money revolution began in Kenya. In 2007, a phone in the hand of a smallholder farmer became a bank. M-Pesa, operating under a telecom-led model, did not merely transfer money—it rewired the economy. A basic handset became a tool of survival and dignity, breaking the monopoly of branch-based banking.
Bangladesh followed not by copying Kenya, but by adapting its lessons. In 2011, Bangladesh Bank issued formal Mobile Financial Services (MFS) guidelines, opting for a bank-led model supported by nationwide agent networks. The launch of bKash the same year demonstrated how a simple device could be transformed into a powerful instrument of financial inclusion.
Within a decade, mobile money travelled from East Africa to South Asia, reshaping daily life in Bangladesh. Crowded queues at bank counters gave way to quiet transactions on village roads and city streets. This was not merely a story of technology. It was a story of power, access and the gradual erosion of poverty’s monopoly.
By 2026, a phone in the hand of a Bangladeshi farmer had effectively become a digital bank. bKash, operating under a bank-led model, evolved far beyond person-to-person transfers. A simple handset became a lifeline of survival and dignity of a huge population more than Kenyea’s M-Pesha have, shattering the monopoly of branch-based banking.
Now farmers, micro-merchants, migrant workers, urban consumers and small entrepreneurs could send and receive payments, pay suppliers, accept digital sales proceeds, save money and even access collateral-free loans instantly. What began as a poverty-focused innovation became indispensable across income groups.
Explosive Growth and Everyday Adoption
Bangladesh’s MFS industry has experienced explosive growth. By November 2024, monthly transactions had surged to 652 million, with a total value of Tk 1.57 trillion. Throughout 2024, monthly transaction volumes consistently exceeded Tk 1 trillion, reflecting how deeply MFS mobile financial services (MFS) have embedded themselves in daily economic life. Inward remittances routed through MFS platforms rose sharply, reaching Tk 12.41 billion in December alone.
By the end of 2024, Bangladesh had at least 238.68 million mobile money accounts—around 11.36 per cent of the global total. In 2024, the country accounted for approximately 8.61 per cent of global daily mobile money transactions, processing average daily values of about Tk 4,833 crore (roughly US$396 million).
Mobile money reshaped domestic remittances, retail payments and government-to-person disbursements. Social safety-net payments, stipends and Covid-19 emergency transfers increasingly flowed through MFS platforms, reducing leakage and delays. For the first time, large segments of the informal economy became digitally visible, strengthening transparency and improving policy delivery.
Women, Remittances and Resilience
This transformation had profound social effects. Women gained greater control over household finances. Rural households received funds directly, reducing dependence on middlemen. Informal workers entered the financial system without traditional bank accounts. By 2025, more than 43 per cent of mobile money accounts were held by women—many in rural areas where formal access had previously been limited.
Remittances are not merely money; they are lifelines. Globally, they touch the lives of nearly one billion people and often constitute 60 per cent or more of household income. Women dominate remittance receipt and conversion into food, education and resilience. Mobile money made these flows faster, safer and more reliable.
The Covid-19 pandemic reinforced a critical truth: digital money is not a convenience—it is survival infrastructure. During lockdowns, households relied on mobile money to purchase food, medicines and utilities from home. The cashless journey accelerated rapidly, particularly in Bangladesh, where mobile payments became a necessity rather than a choice.
Poverty Reduction: Evidence and Limits
Mobile money did not eliminate poverty, but it changed its mechanics. Financial inclusion in Bangladesh rose from below 50 per cent in 2017 to over 65 per cent by 2022, driven largely by mobile money services reaching rural and underserved populations. Bangladesh’s poverty rate declined from about half the population in the 1990s to roughly one-fifth by 2019.
Between 2010 and 2016, the national poverty rate fell from 31.5 per cent to 24.3 per cent. Empirical studies attribute a meaningful share of this decline to mobile money-enabled reductions in transaction costs and increased local economic activity. Each additional Tk 1 billion (around US$11.76 million) in bKash transactions is associated with a 0.71 percentage-point reduction in district-level poverty, statistically significant at the 95 per cent confidence level. The strongest effects are observed in the poorest districts.
Yet progress has proven fragile. According to BBS data released in January 2025, poverty stood at 19.2 per cent, compared with 18.7 per cent in 2022. A separate survey by the Power and Participation Research Centre estimated poverty at 27.93 per cent in 2025, with extreme poverty rising from 5.6 per cent to 9.35 per cent. Inflation, slower growth and post-pandemic shocks have exposed renewed vulnerability.
Globally, the picture is equally sobering. UNDP’s 2025 Multidimensional Poverty Index estimates that 1.1 billion people remain multidimensionally poor. Around 831 million people were living in extreme poverty in 2025. Roughly 1.3 billion adults worldwide still lack any formal financial account.
Yet mobile money revolution continues to demonstrate resilience. Global Findex 2025 shows that 40 per cent of adults in Sub-Saharan Africa use mobile money, often outnumbering traditional bank account holders. The sector contributed an estimated US$190 billion to regional GDP in 2023, underscoring its growing economic significance.
Resistance, Reform and Regulatory Resolve
No revolution is born in comfort. Bangladesh’s mobile money journey began in the heat of conflict—marked by regulatory battles, institutional uncertainty and political pressure.
The country’s policymakers faced a decisive choice: should the future of digital finance be bank-led or telecom-led? Before rules could be written, powerful mobile operators pushed the boundaries, launching transactions without formal approval and daring the state to respond.
Bangladesh Bank eventually stepped in, asserting firm control and restoring order. It was not merely a bureaucratic victory; it was a battle for the very architecture of the nation’s financial future.
Yet the ecosystem remained vulnerable, haunted by actors operating beyond the central bank’s regulatory perimeter—sometimes reportedly shielded by political influence. Still, through pressure and provocation, the central bank’s stewardship held firm, shaping the path of the revolution.
Until the late 2000s, formal banking was a distant dream for rural populations, informal workers and women. High costs, long distances and rigid documentation barred them from financial life. Exclusion was not accidental; it was built into the system.
The turning point came in 2011, when Bangladesh Bank issued guidelines allowing 27 banks to offer bank-led mobile financial services through nationwide agent networks. Dutch-Bangla Bank was first to enter, followed by others partnering with fintech firms.
Within months, bKash—a joint venture of BRAC Bank—surged ahead, spreading its network from capital city’s Motijheel to Majherchor, the remote islands of Bhola. The scale of adoption was unprecedented, and the country’s financial map was redrawn. Soon, fintech rival SureCash entered the market, and 29 banks launched mobile wallets. By 2016, 19 firms had rolled out services; competition intensified and the sector consolidated to 13 active providers.
The launch of MFS operators proved that mobile phones—already ubiquitous across rural and urban Bangladesh—could be transformed into financial lifelines. By 2015, registered mobile money accounts had surpassed traditional bank accounts in reach. By 2024, the country recorded over 120 million registered MFS accounts, with daily transactions exceeding Tk 2,500 crore, according to central bank data. The majority of users were low- and middle-income households—proof that the revolution was rising from the ground, not descending from above.
But the journey was never smooth. The central bank initially faced intense pressure from mobile network operators, sparking fierce debate over the bank-led model. Later, the sector faced major governance and compliance challenges, most notably with the launch of Nagad by the government’s postal department.
Operating outside the established regulatory framework, Nagad relied on temporary approvals and a partnership with the Bangladesh Post Office—an arrangement inconsistent with the bank-led model required by MFS regulations. For years it functioned without a formal licence, distorting the competitive landscape and testing the limits of the regulatory system.
Throughout this process, journalists became a crucial force—exposing risks, documenting abuses and forcing institutions to answer. The result was not merely regulatory clarity, but a fragile, hard-won institutional trust.
The Revolution That Must Reach the Last Mile
History is not only the tale of great inventions, but also the quiet story of tools that broadened who could belong. Despite the tremendous success of the MFS revolution in Bangladesh, the transformation remains incomplete when we look at the smallest shops—the corner stores that hold communities together, one small sale at a time.
Across continents and languages, the corner shop is a constant—duka in Kenya, kirana in India, corner shop in Bangladesh. These micro-retailers may be small, but they are the heart of daily life. They are the first port of call for essentials, the informal lenders of last resort and the quiet engines of local economies. And yet, despite their centrality, they remain structurally vulnerable.
Rahima Begum’s shop in Dhaka is not an exception; it is the rule. Her store is woven into a dense, informal architecture that has sustained Bangladesh’s poor for generations—long before the words “mobile money” entered public discourse. Her local bKash agent is not merely a service provider but a trusted anchor in a world where cash and credit are constantly in tension. Through him, digital value becomes practical money.
In the daily rhythm of her shop, the gaps in the system are visible. Customers pay digitally, but suppliers still demand cash. Deliveries are unpredictable, prices shift without warning, and informal credit is the only thing that keeps the shop moving. Digitisation promises to reorder these relationships—transparent pricing, reliable delivery, embedded credit. For manufacturers, it offers control and visibility. For Rahima, it offers fewer surprises and less risk.
Yet this transformation is not without cost. Informal credit—flexible, forgiving, human—is replaced by rigid repayment schedules. Efficiency can come at the price of elasticity. Data can unlock working capital, but it cannot account for illness, seasonal hardship or sudden school fees. Digital finance improves access, but inclusion remains incomplete. The poorest customers still rely on cash. The smallest retailers still operate at the edge of creditworthiness. The system works, but unevenly.
And it is in this unevenness that the true test of the MFS revolution lies. Not in aggregate transaction figures, not in valuations, not in headlines—but in whether lives like Rahima’s become less precarious, more predictable and marginally freer from the tyranny of scarcity.
The MFS revolution has already changed Bangladesh. It has expanded access, reduced risk and brought the poor into the financial mainstream. Yet the question that remains is the most important one: can mobile money lift Bangladesh’s poor—not only in theory, but in the daily reality of their lives?
The answer is not a statistic. It is the quiet possibility that, one day, Rahima will not have to borrow to survive the week. It is the possibility that her customers will no longer rely on credit to eat. It is the possibility that the poor will finally be treated not as a problem to be managed, but as citizens whose economic lives matter. If mobile money can deliver that, it will have become a revolution. If not, it will remain a promise that reached the edges—but never truly lifted them.
The Bottom Lines
The MFS revolution has already changed Bangladesh. It has expanded access, reduced risk and brought the poor into the financial mainstream. But the question that remains is the most important one: can mobile money lift Bangladesh’s poor—not only in theory, but in the daily reality of their lives?
The answer will not be found in transaction volumes or corporate valuations. It will be found in whether the poorest households gain genuine economic breathing space, whether micro-retailers like Rahima can transform fragility into stability, and whether digital finance can deliver not just convenience, but lasting dignity.
If it does, the revolution will have fulfilled its promise. If it does not, it will remain another technology that reached the margins without truly lifting them.
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