The Prisoners in Bangladesh’s Backyard
The Rohingya will be the litmus test for a “new” Bangladesh’s progressive ideals.
In August 2022, the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Michelle Bachelet concluded an official visit to Bangladesh with a troubling press conference. In her statement, she expressed grave concerns regarding allegations implicating Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina and her party Awami League (AL) in a string of enforced disappearances and extrajudicial killings. Mere days before the UN chief’s statements, a Swedish news outlet had published a blistering exposé about the Hasina-led government. The report claimed a torture center for enemies of state was concealed in the very heart of Dhaka. In this eerie “house of mirrors” prison, Aynaghar, prisoners were allegedly surrounded by mirrors, making it impossible to see anything beyond their own reflections. Unsurprisingly, government officials pushed back. Aynaghar was a fabrication, they said. More so smoke and mirrors to discredit Hasina.
Two years to date, in August of this year, Sheikh Hasina fled the nation after protestors surrounded her residence and demanded her resignation for the “shoot-on-sight” orders which massacred Bangladeshi students peacefully protesting against quotas for government jobs. Within days of her departure, the dark secrets comprising Hasina’s Bangladesh began to unravel. A few individuals who had disappeared in the house of mirrors even began, like a trick of the light, to suddenly reappear.
Like Aynaghar, that which was concealed will surface in this era of a “new” Bangladesh. This Bangladesh proposes freedoms for all, unlike the “democracy” of the past regime. As each confine of the past is shattered, however, the nation will have to contend with those whom they have been complicit in abusing, silencing, and denying rightful opportunity. And for Bangladesh, the most formidable among them will be the Rohingya.
One million-plus Rohingya refugees—comprising the largest refugee camp in the world—have suffered in both their homeland of Myanmar and, although lesser known and reported, also in Bangladesh. But how is it that we have arrived here, with mistreatment even under rare instances of democratic leadership in Myanmar and in Bangladesh, their place of supposed refuge? Can a new, progressive Bangladesh even be realized in the landscape of the present Rohingya tragedy?
Inside the world’s largest refugee camp
The main Rohingya camps in Cox’s Bazar, Nayapara and Kutupalong, house refugees in crowded structures with limited access to sanitation, electricity and water. On the ground from Kutupalong, the dense mangrove forests of Myanmar can be glimpsed just a short distance across the Naf river, whose perimeters are spotted with barbed wire and border posts of armed guards. Due to frequent episodes of violence in the camp (perpetrated by battling factions of Rohingya insurgents and nearby opportunistic actors like armed gangs), security is unpredictable for aid workers and locals in the area, and conditions are particularly detrimental for the Rohingya themselves. Mustafa Zuhair—who operates the aid organization Health Management Bangladesh foundation (HMBD)—explained to me during a visit to Kutupalong in February 2023 that aid workers (citing concern for their own safety) routinely departed the camp grounds well before nightfall, sometimes as early as 3 pm.
Just one week after my departure that month, Kutupalong made news headlines: a fire had broken out, its cause unknown. Reports eventually confirmed over 2,000 bamboo and tarpaulin housings destroyed and 12,000 Rohingya displaced. Gas cylinders for cooking and even arson were conjectured as possible causes. Tragically, this incident was no anomaly. Two years prior, a fire in the same camp had displaced over 50,000. In January 2024, another fire damaged nearly a thousand housings and communal areas, including learning centers.
The Rohingya are forced to accept inhospitable camp life in Bangladesh, as it pales in comparison to what they have endured across the Naf, in their homeland. Although the mass exodus in 2017 serves as the most recognizable marker, the Rohingya have been subject to apartheid and genocide by the Tatmadaw, the Myanmar military, for decades. The Muslim Rohingya—an ethno-religious minority in the predominantly Bamar-Buddhist Myanmar—reside primarily in the western-most state of Rakhine (also known as Arakan). There, they face local inter-communal tensions with Rakhine Buddhists. This triadic structure of strained relations-between the Rohingya in Arakan, the Rakhine Buddhists in Arakan, and the central military-inform the dynamics of the ongoing civil war in Myanmar.
Indeed, the original “reason” for the systematic disenfranchisement and persecution of the Rohingya is the denial by the Myanmar government that they are natives of Arakan. A historical tour of the region, however, proves otherwise and delineates how colonialism created an initial fault line between the Rohingya and the rest of the nation. This fissure was then capitalized, aggravated, and exploited internally by Myanmar state (and endorsed by the masses and monk patriciate) through religious extremism, ethno-nationalism, and military oligarchy. Significantly, this fault line has never been effectively bridged by any party in Myanmar.
A damning revisionist history
Although Burmese administrations have insisted the Rohingya are immigrants mostly brought over during British colonial rule, there is evidence that the Rohingya settled in the Arakan region as early as the eighth century. Bangladeshi historian Abdul Karim suggests that the Muslims, originally “seafarers and traders from the Middle East,” arrived in four phases, the first prior to the establishment of the first Burmese empire in 1055 CE. Arakan remained a sovereign state until its capture in 1784 by the Burmese kingdom, and soon after, the British invaded and ruled between 1826 and 1948 in three phases of Anglo-Burmese wars.
During colonial rule, the first cracks appeared quickly. The majority of the Burmese population perceived that the British favored ethnic minorities such as the Karen, who are predominantly Christian. Because the British also brought in migrant laborers from the Indian subcontinent, tensions rose between the resident Burmese and those whom they considered foreign. Growing Buddhist nationalism in the dominant Bamar-Buddhist community fostered resentment towards “Indians” and “Muslims,” and these groups were often disparagingly referred to as “kalar” (dark-skinned). This slur, popularized over the decades, remains in use.
A fatal blow to the Rohingya’s credibility as constituents of Myanmar came when the Burmese sought their independence in the 1940s. The majority Bamar-Buddhists allied themselves with the Japanese to overthrow British rule. On the other hand, most ethnic minority groups, including the Rohingya, supported Britain based on promises the imperial power had made to them. But even after the British drove the Japanese out of Burma, the Rohingya were not given a “Muslim National Area” in northern Arakan as the British had once promised. When the Rohingya desperately appealed to Mohammed Ali Jinnah for incorporation into East Pakistan (now Bangladesh), Jinnah denied them, not wanting to entangle in Burmese regional affairs.
“No such thing as Rohingya”
General Aung San, leader of the Burmese independence movement and the Communist Party of Burma (CPB), expressed dreams of a secular Burma inclusive to all groups. He signed the 1947 Panglong Agreement along with signatories from the Kachin, Chin, and Shan ethnic groups to solidify confidence in strides towards multi-ethnic unity. Several ethnic groups, including those in Rakhine, however, were not invited. Shortly after, mere months before independence from Britain, Aung San “father of Burma,” was assassinated.
Various strains of ideology emerged in the time afterward: right-wing Burmese nationalists (influenced by Japanese Fascism), left-leaning groups in the vein of Aung San’s CPB party such as the Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League (AFPFL), and, notably, a Rohingya insurgency which sought, again, the incorporation of Rohingya-majority districts in Arakan into East Pakistan. The insurgency was defeated, but coupled with lingering resentment against Rohingya for their previous British alliances, general Burmese sentiment toward them suffered. The Rohingya were considered untrustworthy and treacherous, in addition to being “illegal migrants.” In other words, they were not true Burmese. In the 1950s, however, under U Nu and the AFPFL, Rohingya were allowed to vote and a few served as members of Parliament. This glimmer of hope for the minority, however, was never again matched by any left, right, or center party.
A military coup soon after overthrew the democratically elected U Nu and seated dictator Ne Win, ending any democratic possibility for the next two decades. Under Ne Win, the Rohingya were rapidly systematically disenfranchised. In the 1970s, Rohingya national ID cards were called into question. In 1978, the Rohingya were massacred and fled to Bangladesh during Operation “Dragon King.” Those who eventually returned to Burma were considered foreigners. A citizenship law enacted in 1982 excluded Rohingya as a recognized minority, rendering them stateless. A key uprising on August 8, 1988, initiated by student protests, swept Burma in a national, pro-democratic movement. Years later, a student leader of the 88 uprising remarked, “The Rohingya pretend they suffer so much…If the international community [exerts] force or pressure on this Rohingya issue, it will have to face not the military government but most of our people.”
The military-led government that succeeded Ne Win in 1990 continued business as usual. Operation “Clean and Beautiful Nation” in 1991 and 1992 expelled hundreds of thousands of Rohingya. Anti-Rohingya riots in 2012 further displaced the population to camps in Bangladesh (notably, Bangladesh ordered international charities to stop providing aid to refugees at that time so that more refugees would not be encouraged to “cross the border illegally”). Ultra-nationalist Buddhist monks—respected as the elites of society— campaigned for Race and Religion Protection Laws which targeted the Rohingya. The leader of the 969 movement, Buddhist monk Ashin Wirathu, blamed Rohingya for their own misfortune. “Muslims deliberately raze their own houses to win a place at refugee camps run by aid agencies,” he claimed. Wirathu also attacked South Korean UN official Yanghee Lee, appointed special rapporteur to investigate human rights violations in Myanmar, with sexist vitriol: “If you want, you may offer your [self] to the kalar. But you will never sell off our Rakhine state.”
Such rhetoric falls in line with the de facto prohibition of the word “Rohingya” itself. In their homeland, the Rohingya are classed by what they deem derogatory designations such as “illegal Bengalis.” In a nation-wide census conducted in Myanmar in 2014, the Rohingya were excluded from a list of 135 taingyinthar, or “national races.” Many enumerators, when faced with Rohingya who refused to identify as Bengali, left the premises immediately. The results of the 2014 census were that the Rohingya were simplified as 1,090,000 “non-enumerated” persons.
Aung San Suu Kyi and her National League for Democracy (NLD) party won the 2015 elections in a decisive victory. However, the NLD’s facade of unity catered primarily to its Bamar-Buddhist base. The NLD did not repeal the discriminatory 2015 Race and Religion Protection Laws, and the unprecedented carnage of 2017—which saw genocide inflicted by the Tatmadaw and the exodus of over 700,000 Rohingya—occurred under Suu Kyi’s government. Myanmar’s icon of democracy and Nobel peace laureate appeared in the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in 2019 to defend Myanmar’s genocide. Never once did Suu Kyi mention the minority by the name “Rohingya.”
When refuge becomes prison
During that fateful genocidal wave in 2017, Sheikh Hasina opened Bangladesh’s borders to the fellow Muslim Rohingya adrift at sea. They were subsequently fenced in by armed guards and packed into camps spanning a few square miles, behind luxury resorts catering to tourists in Cox’s Bazar. For her intervention, Hasina was praised by the global community. Bangladesh’s tolerance for their brothers in faith, however, began to diminish quickly.
A series of grave actions ensued: an archaic marriage ban from 2014 was resurrected in 2018 by courts. The ruling made marriage between a Bangladeshi and a Rohingya punishable by up to seven years in prison. Bangladesh’s Armed Police Battalion (APBn) unit committed unchecked violence upon those whom they were deployed to protect. Numerous cases of extortion, wrongful detention, and sexual assault emerged (Human Rights Watch has put out a notice again about Bangladeshi police conduct as recently as early this year). Despite international efforts to increase educational opportunity for the Rohingya, the Bangladeshi government prohibited Rohingya access to local Bangladeshi school systems, forcing the UN to develop the unaccredited and under-staffed “learning centers” within the camps. Rohingya were even barred from using the national Bangladeshi curriculum and learning Bangla. It appeared that Bangladesh was wary of the refugees becoming comfortable in their tongue—a tragic legacy for a nation which prides itself on having fought for its language.
Hasina, although known to trumpet Bangladesh’s economic prosperity, also began publicly insisting the Rohingya be returned as quickly as possible, as Bangladesh itself was struggling domestically. Forced relocations to the ill-equipped Bhasan Char island and premature repatriation attempts to Myanmar also followed in 2018 and 2019, threatening many Rohingya with the very fate which they had attempted to escape. The abrupt disavowal of refugees taken into the state, however, is not a new turn. In 1978, for instance, the Bangladeshi government’s reduction of food rations as a tactic to hasten the Rohingya’s departure—an action unchallenged by the UN—caused mass deaths by starvation (the UN, at the Myanmar government’s request, also shelved a 2017 assessment which revealed the dire food shortage and hunger crisis affecting the Rohingya).
Devastating, also, was the devolving rhetoric. A dangerous reputation, much like the one conferred upon them in Myanmar, began to precede the Rohingya in the sphere of Bangladeshi and international consciousness. The desperate habits of few and violence of factions within the camp became the fiber attributed to all. The refugees were vilified—by journalists, politicians, even the common man—as a monolith of miscreants and loafers and yaba (amphetamine) addicts. The lollygaggers and profiteers. The extortionists and exploiters, derelicts and drifters, saboteurs and thieves of every virtue, even life. Such typecasting became common posturing in Bangladesh and other countries which once agreed to anchor the refugees. Sociological research published earlier this year, for instance, illustrated that sympathy and confidence in the Rohingya have dwindled amongst the Bangladeshi community, a primary concern being that camps like Kutupalong have become destructive organisms which consume their own tails and disrupt local environments. Similarly, disinformation campaigns carried out by China and Indonesia have worsened ASEAN sentiments toward the Rohingya. Through these accumulating injustices and narrow caricatures, the Rohingya—in the eyes of the world—has been dehumanized in his artificial ecosystem, just as he had been in his homeland.
Several parallels exist between the struggle of the Rohingya and Bangladesh’s own nationhood. Leading up to Bangladesh’s independence, those in East Pakistan were subjected to unequal representation in government and persecution rooted in ethno-religious centrism. East Pakistanis were denigrated for being darker-skinned and, despite their majority Muslim population, disavowed as “real” Muslims due to cultural similarities shared with Hindus. During the events of 1971, many in East Pakistan sought refuge across the border, in neighboring India and, significantly, Arakan. The local Buddhist Rakhines at that time staged protests which eventually expelled not only the East Pakistanis who had crossed over, but even Rohingya native to Arakan. Bangladesh and Myanmar’s circular reasoning that the other has infiltrated illegally during times of instability is a scapegoating fallacy responsible for perpetuating the Rohingya refugee crisis.
The international community has, in some instances, overlooked domestic abuses in both nations in favor of a greater political agenda. Consider, for instance, Time magazine’s 2023 perspective of how Hasina manipulated previously positive global opinion of her. Taking in the Rohingya gave her supposed license to suppress elections and political adversaries, as few were willing to look closely at these abuses when Hasina had emerged the “savior” of refugees.
Policy change must back promise
Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD were ousted in 2021 by yet another military coup, and the junta, headed by Min Aung Hlaing, have remained in power ever since as the State Administration Council (SAC). Despite the violent response from the Tatmadaw, students, laborers, farmers, and others in the working class have united alongside ethnic armed organizations (EAOs) in many border regions in the past three years against the SAC. The National Unity Government (NUG), a government in exile, was formed after the coup and includes NLD members (including Aung San Suu Kyi), EAO affiliates, and other lawmakers and parliamentarians. Groups on the left have expanded and organized in efforts to oppose the Tatmadaw. The CPB, for example, has re-emerged with an armed wing, the People’s Liberation Army, and aspires Myanmar to be a federated state with ethnic minorities given reign over autonomous regions. Many leftist parties differ in ideological nuance and proposed methods; however, while they champion minority autonomy and recognition, the Rohingya are usually omitted from the conversation. It remains to be seen if a military vacuum can be replaced in an appropriate manner truly serving all ethnic groups, unlike the inaction and lack of teeth characteristic of the NLD’s rule.
Since early summer of this year, the opposition to the Tatmadaw has intensified to a civil war in the Rakhine state, where the Arakan Army (AA, arguably the strongest EAO and militant wing of the United League of Arakan) pursues a separatist-inclined movement desiring an “Arakan nation.” This strife has escalating consequences for the Rohingya. A deeply-fractured Myanmar has seen the Tatmadaw pitted against the AA with Rohingya killed in cross-fire and subjected to forced recruitment by both sides. 8,000 Rohingya have already crossed into Bangladesh in the past months.
These last months, of course, have also seen Bangladesh charting the course for a new government. In part of a policy address as head of the interim government, Nobel peace laureate Muhammad Yunus stated: “Our government will continue to support the million plus Rohingya people sheltered in Bangladesh. We need the sustained efforts of the international community for Rohingya humanitarian operations and their eventual repatriation to their homeland, Myanmar, with safety, dignity, and full rights.” Yunus’ statement is noteworthy and laudable—this direct address is a departure from the growing anti-Rohingya lexicon. But with civil war ravaging Myanmar, decision-making in this early stage is critical, especially with some senior officials’ tone seemingly at-odds with the government head. Mohammad Douza, an official in charge of refugee management in Bangladesh, recently parroted the ubiquitous refrain of the old guard—that the nation is “already over-burdened and unable to accommodate any more Rohingya.”
As a new Bangladesh stands, exulted in its own democratic movement, the nation can only do right by the Rohingya refugees in its backyard by avoiding the adoption of Myanmar’s playbook of discriminatory policies and harmful rhetoric. It is of emergent concern that this “new” Bangladesh delivers on the progressive ideals of its student movement by rectifying its own injustices against the Rohingya by reforming domestic policies and developing a safe, long-term solution for the refugees instead of hasty relocation efforts which pacify Bangladeshi public opinion but ultimately fail. The question stands: Can Bangladesh undo past practices which harmed refugees for decades?
Amidst episodes of violence against Hindus and indigenous tribes since Hasina’s ouster, Yunus has stressed that there is no place for discrimination in this new Bangladesh. The interim government has thus far included representatives of the Hindu community and indigenous groups of the Chittagong Hill Tracts. The Rohingya, however, are barred from representation in Bangladesh’s government and have historically been excluded from discussions regarding them. A majority of the refugees seek safe repatriation to Myanmar with reinstatement of their full rights. Unlike the separatist ideals of the Arakan Army, many Rohingya demand citizenship and statehood in Myanmar, and they fear being volleyed among displaced persons camps within their homeland.
In recent weeks, Yunus has made appeals for prioritizing Rohingya repatriation, the creation of a UN-backed “safe zone” in Rakhine state, and fast-tracking third-country resettlement of refugees. As it stands, however, over 1.3 million already reside in the Bangladesh camps and must be ensured safety and rightful opportunity until repatriation. With the Myanmar military in power, premature efforts to return the Rohingya will violate the principle of non-refoulement under international law and undermine Bangladesh’s aim of reducing rates of re-return. Sirajul Islam, a Rohingya writer and activist in Jamtoli camp, expressed to me recently: “Bangladesh plays the most crucial role in ensuring justice and accountability for us and our repatriation with the fulfillment of our demands. Since we fled our original land, Arakan, we have been constantly reiterating our desire to return to our homeland.”
Dire stakes in geopolitical chess
Regarding repatriation, there should be not only a commitment to non-refoulement, but also a greater inclusion of Rohingya voices. The primary bodies involved in repatriation efforts are currently the UN and the governments of Bangladesh, Myanmar, and China. Myanmar’s NUG entity has faced backlash from Rohingya who claim that despite the appointment of a Rohingya representative, Aung Kyaw Moe, they have not been adequately consulted and that promises for change might only amount to superficial appeasement. China’s economic investments via its Belt and Road Initiative and other infrastructure projects, particularly in Rakhine state, see to it that Chinese-Myanmar relations are not compromised and that Myanmar is not censured by international law for genocide. China vetoed a 2017 UN Human Rights Council resolution condemning Myanmar state for the Rohingya genocide, and in years since has continued to veto similar resolutions. Tellingly, China likely does not want to set a precedent for inquiry into genocide when it is ethnically cleansing Uyghur Muslims within its own borders.
Taking into account these conditions, China is unlikely to warm to the Yunus administration’s pledges, especially considering Yunus’ close coordination with the UN. With China as a key “mediator” between Myanmar and Bangladesh, this will stymie sanctions upon Myanmar and pose complications in sealing a repatriation solution.
In response to an investigation launched back in 2019, the International Criminal Court (ICC) announced on November 27, 2024 that it is seeking the arrest of junta leader Min Aung Hlaing for crimes against humanity in the genocide of the Rohingya. Mere hours later, China’s foreign ministry cautioned that the ICC must proceed in a “just and fair” manner and exercise its duty “prudently.”
Similarly, India largely sympathizes with the Myanmar state given its economic interests such as development projects for a port in Rakhine state’s Sittwe and cross-border roads and pipelines. They have adopted a lukewarm approach to the crisis, engaging in repatriation talks largely to ensure they are leveraging the situation to their own benefit when big players such as China, Russia, and the US also sit at the table.
Furthermore, international bodies such as the UN—who have an inconsistent record with how they have handled repatriation efforts and safety—must be held accountable by journalists, writers, and other Rohingya allies. Most recently, on UN day in October, Yunus called for “Reforming the UN to make it more inclusive, transparent and responsive to deliver to the aspirations of all people in an evolving global landscape.” An internal report from 2010 documents UNHCR’s role in prior repatriations (of 1978 and the 1990s), stating that in these events, UNHCR had “departed the furthest from its protection mandate and principles in any of its operations worldwide.”
Islam, the Rohingya activist, ardently expressed to me that education is the most solvent means of protection for Rohingya youth. Bangladesh’s refusal in 2017 to allow Rohingya access to the national education system was justified by the erroneous notion that repatriation would happen by 2019. The Refugee Relief and Repatriation Commissioner staunchly continued to assert in 2019: “If they stay for twenty years, you’ll need a curriculum, but if it’s just a year or two, then it’s different … There is no possibility for them to take the Bangladeshi curriculum.”
We are nearing the halfway mark for such a twenty-year stay. Bangladesh’s claim of “repatriation around the corner” is a type of sophistry responsible for creating an entire generation of Rohingya who are denied their rights to education as outlined by the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Refugees: “Refugee children need to be included in the national education systems of their host countries.” As such, Yunus’ pledge must be followed through with not only repatriation and resettlement efforts, but also urgent domestic policy reform in Bangladesh pertaining to all areas affecting the Rohingya—particularly in education access—coupled with allowance of support from the private sector.
Considering that the political legitimacy of Yunus stems from the student movement, the student leaders should continue that animus and take a proactive stance on Rohingya education. With this sort of spirited reform, the Rohingya will have greater success in permanently leaving the camp structure, something which indeed aligns with Bangladesh’s ultimate goal. Yunus’ government naturally faces the challenge of possible political sabotage by AL sympathizers and even return to the status quo of rigid political binary [Bangladesh National Party (BNP) and AL] which may make reform difficult. The new government must make an active commitment to dismantle obstacles to structural reform and create an environment conducive to productive legislation.
The familiar constellations can no longer serve as Bangladesh’s banner and guide. Two days after Yunus was sworn into office this past August, drone strikes in the fight between the Myanmar junta and Rakhine rebels massacred over 200 Rohingya fleeing to Bangladesh. It is they, nameless and faceless bodies to the world, who will ultimately test a new nation’s progressive limits. Bangladesh might never be truly liberated until it sees its own reflection clearly, when all those whom it claims to shelter are freed.
Farihah Ahmed received her MFA in fiction from Columbia University and DDS from Columbia University’s College of Dental Medicine. Her interests include intersectional education, art, and health solutions design for refugees. She is based in New York City and presently at work on a novel about the Rohingya. She can be reached at mail@fjahmed.com.
Images from the Rohingya camps are from Saiful Huq Omi’s exhibit “The Disowned and Denied: Stateless Rohingya Refugees in Bangladesh” hosted at Open Society Foundations under creative commons license (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0)