In a nation often defined by resilience and reinvention, few stories echo louder than Bangladesh’s microfinance revolution. At the heart of that movement stands Alex Counts — author, social entrepreneur, and founding president of the Grameen Foundation — whose decades-long engagement with Bangladesh has reshaped global conversations around poverty, dignity, and community empowerment.
In this exclusive interview, Counts reflects on his formative years living in rural Bangladesh, his close mentorship under Nobel Laureate Professor Muhammad Yunus, and his vision for the next generation of social change — from climate adaptation and youth leadership to digital inclusion and regional cooperation. His insights offer not only a personal narrative but a lens into Bangladesh’s evolving role as a hub of social innovation.
Dhaka Tribune: How did your early experiences in rural Bangladesh shape your sense of identity?
Alex Counts: I was a Fulbright scholar in Bangladesh from 1988 to 1989, and returned multiple times in the early 1990s before founding the Grameen Foundation in 1997. It was created as a US-based organization to extend the Grameen model globally.
Living in rural Bangladesh was transformative. It challenged my assumptions about education and success. I met countless villagers — many without formal schooling — who displayed sharp business acumen, worked tirelessly, cooperated generously, and deeply valued the opportunities provided by Grameen and Brac.
Grameen’s philosophy was simple but radical: trust the poor. Don’t micromanage — invest in the strengths they already have. I often heard the saying: “If a poor person is still alive, they must have a skill.” In a context with few jobs and minimal safety nets, survival itself is proof of resourcefulness.
Microcredit builds on that principle. Whether it’s raising livestock or sewing clothes, people had viable business ideas. And while not everyone advanced equally, even modest progress mattered.
Now, 25 years later, I’ve returned to that village near Manikganj and seen the long-term impact—children of early borrowers are now educated professionals. Sometimes transformation takes a few years; sometimes, a generation. But with trust and opportunity, change is real.
What do you see as microcredit’s most enduring impact on social change in Bangladesh?
I recently revisited the village I wrote about, and the progress was striking.
In the early ‘90s, homes were mostly thatched house (straw-roofed huts). Now, almost none remain. My former housekeeper, once living in a single-room home, now has a refrigerator. That kind of change is visible.
But the deeper impact of microcredit lies in shifting mindsets. Grameen didn’t just tackle financial gaps — it built a culture of trust and transparency. Staff mentioned how, unlike elsewhere, no one asked for bribes during hiring. Borrowers, too, were surprised they received loans by following clear rules — no hidden conditions, no manipulation.
This kind of honest interaction began to reshape expectations. People started asking: if Grameen treats us fairly, why shouldn’t government offices or local businesses? That subtle shift — from survival to dignity, from suspicion to trust — is hard to measure but incredibly powerful.
What was your relationship like with Professor Yunus, and how did his mentorship shape you?
He truly took me under his wing. I write about it in the book — how he gave me unprecedented access: I could walk into his office or his residence at any time. He trusted me deeply, and that trust became the foundation of our relationship.
Though there’s no comprehensive biography of Professor Yunus yet, my book includes significant portions about him — almost a third — because he allowed me to observe and follow him closely. He shared stories from his youth and insights that went beyond what he published in Banker to the Poor. What I captured was through the lens of someone shaped by him — not just professionally, but personally.
When I was just 30, he asked me to start the Grameen Foundation. Frankly, I wasn’t ready — I lacked most of the skills. But he believed in me. He saw a version of me that I hadn’t yet imagined. That’s his gift.
As chief adviser, he calls on every Bangladeshi to become a bigger version of themselves, and he practiced that same belief with me. He encouraged me to write this book, even though I’d never written one before. He read each chapter along the way, offered feedback, but always let me decide what stayed. That generosity and respect empowered me — not just as a writer, but as a person.
One of the most remarkable things about him is how he gives you his full attention. If you’ve ever sat with him, you’ll know exactly what I mean. He’s fully present — no distractions, no glancing at phones, no drifting thoughts. It’s a form of honoring you with his presence. I’ve tried to emulate that in my own life, though I’ll never quite match his grace. But it comes from a deep conviction: he believes that each person holds far more potential than they realize, and his attention is a symbol of that belief.
And the amazing part? It’s not just how he treats me. It’s how he treats everyone.
How can microfinance and social enterprise foster regional cooperation?
Social entrepreneurship is quietly emerging as a powerful force for regional cooperation — with Bangladesh and India at its center. Despite political frictions, both countries boast extraordinary talent, resilience, and a shared appetite for solving critical challenges. I often describe them as the twin wings of the global Silicon Valley of social innovation.
These changemakers tackle poverty, climate risk, and displacement — not through borders and rhetoric, but through collaboration. Indian microfinance leaders learned from Bangladesh; Bangladeshi innovators now partner with counterparts in India, Nepal, Pakistan, and beyond.
If you’re serious about social impact, look to South Asia. Here, trust-based, people-driven networks are quietly reshaping communities. Political headlines may dominate, but beneath them, a quieter revolution — social entrepreneurship — is stitching the region together through grassroots diplomacy and shared purpose.
What’s your vision for the next phase of social impact in Bangladesh — from digital inclusion to climate action?
Microfinance is ultimately about mobilizing people — and Bangladesh has built an unparalleled foundation for that. When I revisited the village where I conducted my research, I found those weekly center meetings still going strong after 30 years. Some attendees were familiar faces; others were the children of the original borrowers. Whether through Brac, Grameen, ASA, or others, these networks form a deeply rooted infrastructure of trust and organization.
That matters enormously for innovation. Suppose you develop a breakthrough solution for climate resilience or disease control — the challenge is dissemination. In Bangladesh, you’re not starting from scratch. These communities are organized, financially engaged, and many have track records with microfinance groups. It’s like having a grassroots credit score system — women in these networks are trusted, creditworthy, and ready to act.
In countries where microfinance isn’t well established, it’s a different story: fragmented outreach, uncertain repayment, and limited organizing power.
But in Bangladesh, the foundation is already built. Now, it’s about leveraging that for broader impact — digital access, youth empowerment, and climate adaptation. The tools are there. We just need to connect them to the next wave of solutions.
What advice would you give to Bangladeshi youth navigating rapid social and economic change?
Don’t wait your turn. Back in the ‘80s, we were taught to learn first, act later. But today, especially in Bangladesh, learning often comes through doing. At the University of Maryland, I saw students launching nonprofits and social ventures while still in school — their growth accelerated by action.
Bangladeshi youth have shown that spirit, bringing real political change. That boldness must extend into business, academia, and civil society. I once sat on a university panel where everyone was over 50. No student voice. But young people can — and should — lead in their 20s and 30s. You don’t need a title to make change.
When I founded Grameen Foundation at 30, I was unprepared and made plenty of mistakes. But as Prof Yunus told me: “Make mistakes, but don’t repeat them.”
We need to trust young people with leadership now. The problems — climate, inequality, trafficking — are urgent. Don’t wait until you’re 40. If you have an idea, act on it. Demand support. Learn by doing. Your moment is already here.
How are Grameen Foundation and Grameen America evolving today?
Grameen Foundation is doing well. One highlight is our global volunteer corps — over 27,000 people in 130 countries — supporting organizations that carry forward the Grameen philosophy in places like Uganda, Haiti, and the Philippines. It’s our way of extending Grameen’s global reach.
Grameen America, which came later, focuses on microlending in the US It now lends nearly $1 billion annually, with a 99% repayment rate and 100% women borrowers. It’s doing exceptionally well and lives up to its vision of being the “Grameen Bank of America.”
In my book, I reflect on early microlending trials in the US — initially modest, but now part of a thriving movement.
Both organizations owe their foundation to Professor Yunus. His guidance and trust empowered us to adapt these ideas across borders, and that legacy continues to grow.