UAI welcomes Chinese shuttle diplomacy that has resulted in Pakistan and Afghanistan agreeing to a ceasefire, allowing the citizens of both countries to enjoy Eid in a respectful and peaceful manner.

UAI also greatly appreciates the role of China—currently the penholder on Afghanistan in the UN Security Council (UNSC)—at the multilateral level, as well as its call on all “relevant countries to unfreeze and return the assets of Afghanistan’s central bank.” The seizure of Afghanistan’s sovereign external reserves—the property of the Afghan people—by the United States and some European allies occurred shortly after the return of the Taliban to Kabul in August 2021 and the withdrawal of US and allied forces.

This ruinous measure was a significant factor in cratering the economy and undermining the banking system. Described by UAI as collective punishment, it has contributed to alarming levels of poverty and debt, the collapse of livelihoods, and the use of adverse coping mechanisms such as the exchange of young girls in marriage or the sale of body parts, such as kidneys, to stave off hunger.

Underlining the need for increased, rather than reduced, support for humanitarian action, Chinese representatives at a recent UNSC meeting called on “traditional donors, particularly those countries that bear historical responsibility toward Afghanistan, to resume and increase their aid” as soon as possible.

China’s diplomacy for long-term peace and stability ‘a rare, trustworthy public good,’ says expert
Shen Sheng.

For further information, see the following link:
China calls for Afghanistan-Pakistan ceasefire, ‘serving as stabilizing anchor for regional security in turbulent world’
Published in The Global Times. March 18, 2026 https://www.globaltimes.cn/page/202603/1357145.shtml

The post China Champions the Unfreezing of Afghanistan’s Funds appeared first on United Against Inhumanity.

Having worked for years among refugees, people who fall in the interstices of state protection and need international protection, has led me to think critically about the nation-state, which has become today the sole political system considered as legitimate for organising collective life. The refugee might indeed be the political figure of our times, just as the citizen was during the French Revolution. It is a source of existential anxiety for nation-states, considering that the principle of non-refoulement – so central to international refugee law – represents a limitation of the prevailing doctrine of state sovereignty, constructed on the right to control a territory and its population and therefore to exclude non-nationals.

I had always considered that Jewish diasporic history offered a source of inspiration to imagine transnational forms of political participation. Indeed, the very notion of diaspora invites us to think beyond the normative framework of the nation-state and resist against the ideology of cultural homogeneity. It opens the possibility of transversal connections, through which separate places effectively become linked together by multiple attachments and social ties cutting across national borders. It might be a conceptual alternative to the prevailing model of the nation-state, based on the triad of population-language-territory, which restricts political rights to people supposed to share a cultural identity and dwell in a delimited piece of land. By contrast, Zionism endorses the universalisation of the nation-state as the only entity able to offer protection to people and harmoniously organise social life. 

For years, I tried to keep a certain distance from Israel and Palestine. Conducting research on Afghanistan and among Afghans, I felt I already had my load of human suffering. But I could not decline the invitation through Basil Farraj, a former PhD candidate of the Institute who is currently professor at Birzeit University, to participate in the inaugural Ramallah Congress on the Decolonisation of Palestine, jointly conveyed by Progressive International, the Ibrahim Abu-Lughod Institute of International Studies at Birzeit University, and Al-Shabaka: The Palestinian Policy Network. I travelled in the region between the 8^th and the 17^th of November 2025. 

Some twenty delegates – parliamentarians, journalists, lawyers, scholars – from Belgium, Croatia, France, Germany, Ireland, Spain, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, and the United States participated. Crossing the border from Jordan was already an experience that introduced us to the prevailing ambiance. We had been informed of the possibility that our electronic devices might be checked by the Israeli border guards. As a consequence, we were advised to purge our cell phones from anything that could be related to the Congress and remove apps that could be seen with suspicion, such as Signal and Telegram. This set the tone. And indeed, during the whole trip, the omnipresence of the surveillance technology implemented by the Israeli state provoked in me a feeling of unease that I never had before, even in undemocratic places where I travelled, such as Afghanistan, Iran, or Syria.

As of the first day in Ramallah, we were able to visualise the political topography of occupation and colonisation. Every hill surrounding the city was occupied by Israeli settlements, which behind high fences looked like military outposts. Like a scar in the landscape, the ugly concrete wall separates local villagers from their agricultural lands. Its security purpose did not appear clearly. Palestinian society is under siege. I was overwhelmed with a sense of asphyxia. 

For the following two days, we attended a conference on the campus of Birzeit University. A variety of topics were addressed ranging from settler colonialism, the economic dimension of occupation, the right to education, access to land and agriculture, the role but also the limitation of international law, the principles inspiring the BDS (Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions) movement. Some presentations were more analytical, some others more everday but poignant testimonies of what it means to live and study under occupation. Unlike in Afghanistan, the political administration and humanitarian apparatus were left outside the scope of the discussion by successive speakers. The Palestinian Authority appeared discredited and UNRWA was not considered as very relevant when it came to political solution.

A smaller group of delegates, of which I was a part, extended their stay to travel throughout occupied Palestinian territory. With the Bisan Center, a Palestinian civil society organisation that promotes among other things community development programmes, we had the opportunity to visit the region of Tulkarm, in the north of the West Bank. We met farmers who showed us their vegetable gardens and olive groves. They described the raids conducted by the settlers. These are more and more frequent and violent since 7 October 2023.

Settlers burn trees and poison the land to render it unsuitable for agriculture. The landscape conveys a clear picture of dispossession. This includes multiple check points, yellow and the orange gates that may be closed without prior notice which renders every journey a random venture, the omnipresence of settlements overlooking Palestinian villages. We pass billboards with the inscription “No Future in Palestine” in Arabic, sometimes illustrated by an image of Palestinians being expelled from Gaza. Like the thousands of Israeli flags bordering some roads, it is a campaign by a settler group whose final objective towards Palestinians is all too evident. And indeed, we also had the opportunity to see the refugee camps of Tulkarm and Nur Shams, emptied manu militari from their populations in the summer of 2025. As night fell, they appeared as black holes at the edge of the town.

With colleagues from Sabeel, an ecumenical liberation theology center, we toured Jerusalem and Bethlehem. We also went to the Bedouin village of ‘Umm al-Kheir in the South Hebron Hills. Forcedly displaced from the Negev in 1948, these families purchased some land on the southern edges of the West Bank. After all these years, they are now encircled by Israeli settlers, who are becoming more and more aggressive. During our visit, some Israeli vehicles started to circulate around us while filming us through the windows. Eventually, two young women and a man, fully armed, came to indicate that we were in a military zone. After some tense exchanges, another man arrived. He shouted at us, hostilely, that we had 4 minutes to clear off. Like his colleague, his face was covered. He wore a balaclava and sunglasses, but his uniform had no military insignia indicating his Unit. When we left, he followed us on the road for 20 minutes. 

I will keep a vivid memory of many encounters, be it with a Jewish peace activist who considers that the humanist legacy of Judaism has to be protected from the Israeli apartheid regime and genocidal action, or with the director of an organic farm saying that Palestinians do not just want peace but want freedom. My trip to a dystopian land, a giant field for testing surveillance technologies and weaponry, was quite traumatizing but also uplifting given the fortitude of those I met. Facts are so crude that they speak for themselves. But I was equally shaken by my return to Switzerland. The complicity of Western authorities is no longer possible to ignore. Peace and justice are not a means to an end but an imperative human right. For Ilan Pappé, the great Israeli historian, the ideological project of the Israeli state is collapsing from within.

Relying on the principle that only people supposed to share a cultural identity and dwell in a delimited piece of land may live harmoniously together, the two-state solution enshrines the prevailing model of the nation-state that I mentioned at the beginning of this brief article.

Can’t the Holy Land be a place where the meaning of living together is reinvented in an inclusive way?

Don’t we all have a responsibility towards Palestinians as well as Israelis?

I am reminded of Omar El Akkad’s recent book: “One day, everyone will have always been against this”. Could this be today?

About the author: Professor Monsutti works at the Department of Anthropology and Sociology, Graduate Institute of International and Development Studies, in Geneva.

The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author of the presentation and do not necessarily represent the views of United Against Inhumanity (UAI).

The post “Travelling in a Dystopian Land: Occupied Palestine” by Alessandro Monsutti. appeared first on United Against Inhumanity.

The Rohingya are a stateless Muslim minority group from Myanmar who have been subjected to decades of repression and expulsion. While the plight of those living in countries such as Bangladesh, India and Malaysia has been well documented, much less is known about those who reside in Saudi Arabia. This blog analyses the limited evidence available.

Introduction

For many years, members of Myanmar’s Rohingya population have travelled to Saudi Arabia seeking economic opportunity and refuge from persecution. But these goals have proven to be increasingly elusive.
Restrictions on movement and residency have intensified, increasing the Rohingya’s exposure to exploitation and deepening the precarity of daily life. Lacking legal protection and stable pathways to regularization, they face growing uncertainty, including, for some, the prospect of detention and deportation.
These developments reveal a broader pattern in which official ambiguity derives not from an administrative oversight but as a central feature and failure of governance for the Rohingya in Saudi Arabia.

Saudi Arabia’s Rohingya population

The Rohingya presence in Saudi Arabia dates back to the 1950s, when small numbers travelled by land and sea to Mecca to perform Hajj. Larger waves followed in the early 1970s after violence perpetrated against them in Myanmar. In 1973, King Faisal granted residency to Rohingya fleeing persecution, allowing them to work, live and travel within the Kingdom.
Many settled in under-served neighbourhoods of Mecca and Medina, forming close-knit networks that expanded over time as established families helped relatives to obtain visas through Saudi sponsors. Most work in low-paying roles such as street vending, cleaning, portering and other forms of unskilled labour, with the more fortunate amongst them becoming drivers.

For many, these arrangements initially appeared to offer a pathway to stability. Generations born in the Kingdom were able to maintain residency, a status that was often perceived as a type of informal citizenship. These arrangements, however, relied on administrative discretion rather than legal guarantees.

In terms of numbers, estimates vary widely. Several suggest that between 400,000 and 500,000 Rohingya are resident in the Kingdom, while the 2022 Saudi census recorded 163,700 people originating from Myanmar. In 2017, the authorities reported issuing approximately 250,000 special residency permits to Rohingya.

These divergent numbers reflect the wider challenge of Rohingya recognition and representation in Saudi Arabia. The absence of consistent registration mechanisms, combined with ambiguous legal status, contributes to persistent uncertainty over the size and visibility of the population.

Saudi refugee governance

Saudi Arabia is one of 44 states that are not signatories to the 1951 UN Refugee Convention. It has no domestic legal framework for the recognition or protection of refugees. As Maja Janmyr and Charlotte Lysa note, the Saudi approach is best described as ad hoc, including the provision of temporary residency permits, limited access to basic services such as health and education, and short-term integration in the labour market.

In that respect, Saudi policy is closely tied to the kafala or sponsorship system. This framework reinforces the temporary nature of migration and shifts administrative responsibility onto employers, who exercise significant control over foreign workers.

Thus, in 2005, the Saudi Interior Minister stated that the Rohingya were “Burmese Muslims” who had come to perform Hajj but could not return, granting them residency and permission to work. Employers were encouraged to recruit from the Rohingya community, an arrangement later formalised by a Ministry of Labour policy that allowed employers to hire four times as many Rohingya as other foreign workers.

In 2013, the government established a committee to regulate the residency status of the Rohingya, but the resulting framework applied only to those who had arrived before 2008. Subsequent policy amendments expanded the authority of employers under the kafala system, enabling the Rohingya to be detained and deported if they attempted to work for anyone other than their officially recognised sponsor. As a result, some had no choice but to surrender their passports to their employers and to work under exploitative conditions.

Saudi Arabia has a distinct vocabulary in relation to the Rohingya and other refugees, referring to them not as such but as “guests,” “visitors,” or “brothers,” drawing on the language of Islamic hospitality and solidarity. This narrative serves several functions. It presents Saudi Arabia as a generous host, implies that the Rohingya displaced are receiving a favour rather than exercising rights, reinforces the expectation that all refugees are temporary regardless of how long they have lived in the Kingdom, and obscures the state’s legal responsibilities toward those in need of international protection.

Rights and citizenship

When the Rohingya first arrived in Saudi Arabia in the 1950s, Bangladesh was part of Pakistan, many believed that long-term residency would lead to some form of regularised status or even citizenship. According to one Pakistani embassy official interviewed in 2012, this expectation contributed to the country’s decision to stop renewing passports for Rohingya who had historically been documented as Pakistani nationals.

The absence of a secure nationality has left many Rohingya families in an increasingly precarious position. Under Saudi nationality law, children born to Rohingya fathers and Saudi mothers are not automatically eligible for citizenship, reinforcing patterns of inherited statelessness across generations.

Regional dynamics also play a role. Bangladesh, whose large migrant workforce in Saudi Arabia depends on the kafala system, has limited leverage to reject Rohingya deportations. Saudi authorities have reportedly used this labour dependency in negotiations over accepting deported Rohingya, underscoring how migration governance intersects with statelessness and economic interdependence.

Saudi Arabia’s ad-hoc approach has left many Rohingya in a condition of ‘permanent temporariness’, with longstanding residents unsure of whether and to what extent any of the rights and permissions they hold today will still apply tomorrow.

In March 2017, the Saudi Interior Ministry launched the ‘Homeland without illegals’ campaign, part of a wider effort to curb irregular migration and enforce residency rules. Since then, the authorities have carried out extensive raids to identify, detain and deport individuals deemed to lack valid documentation.

Detention and deportation

Many of these operations have occurred in Rohingya-populated neighbourhoods of Mecca, with reports of officers conducting raids while dressed as local residents. Businesses in these areas have also been targeted, while identity checks at roadside checkpoints have become more frequent. These practices have generated heightened uncertainty, prompting many Rohingya to rely on encrypted messaging apps to communicate with each other and to avoid digital surveillance.
Tensions have been heightened by clashes involving different migrant communities, private citizens and the security forces, with some reports suggesting that such incidents have been exacerbated by an inadequate police response.
Those detained during police operations are typically transferred to large detention centres, the most prominent being the Shumaisi facility near the Jeddah–Mecca highway. The complex reportedly holds up to 32,000 people and spans more than 2.5 million square metres, with men detained separately from women and children.

Upon arrival, detainees have their belongings, including passports and documents, confiscated. Many report receiving little information about their cases or the duration of detention, with some held for several years.
Concerns about the treatment of detainees in Shumaisi have been raised for more than a decade. A 2015 Human Rights Watch report documented inadequate food and sanitation and instances of violence by guards. Videos circulated by detainees show Rohingya prisoners engaging in a hunger strike. During one 2019 protest, seven out of roughly 650 Rohingya detainees were hospitalised. Other accounts describe immigration officers threatening to withhold water, blankets and clothing.

For many detainees, the primary motivation for protest is the desire to be released so they can resume work and support families abroad. Yet the statelessness of the Rohingya severely limits their options. Appeals to the consulates of India, Nepal and Pakistan are routinely rejected. Bangladeshi diplomats sometimes facilitate exit in exchange for a reported fee of $500 to $700, while other detainees resort to informal payments in the hope of securing their release.
Prolonged confinement contributes to significant psychological distress. A report by Middle East Eye highlights the anxiety produced by unclear legal procedures and uncertainty over release, with detainees describing a persistent sense of insecurity about their future.

Upon release, individuals undergo biometric registration, including fingerprint and retinal scans, which are added to a national database that bars undocumented workers from re-entering the Kingdom. While release provides relief for some, others face long-term consequences, including loss of livelihood and separation from community networks established over decades.

Despite the conditions reported by detainees, the official discourse portrays those held in Shumaisi as violators of immigration and residency laws. The official Saudi Gazette has also described the facility as a well-resourced centre providing food, healthcare and administrative support to those awaiting deportation.
Deportations are publicly framed as “repatriations” to countries such as Myanmar, Bangladesh and Pakistan. For many Rohingya, however, these states do not represent places of origin or citizenship, raising further concerns about their rights. Saudi government statements also emphasise the financial cost of deportation, reinforcing a narrative in which enforcement is presented as both necessary and burdensome.

The role of UNHCR

Saudi Arabia is not a signatory to the 1951 UN Refugee Convention and has no formal procedure for the recognition of refugee status. UNHCR works in a restrictive environment and in close cooperation with Saudi authorities, limiting its ability to intervene on behalf of people falling under its mandate.

These constraints are reflected in the organisation’s public documents. Its 2024 factsheet on Saudi Arabia, for example, portrays the country as a “longtime partner” and emphasises the Kingdom’s contributions to humanitarian and development programmes. The Rohingya in Saudi Arabia are, the factsheet reports, treated “generally tolerant.”
This diplomatic language is typical of UNHCR’s engagement in non-signatory contexts, where the organisation’s activities depend heavily on maintaining constructive relations with the state.

As Lysa notes, UNHCR’s role in Saudi Arabia consists primarily of advocacy and monitoring. Its ability to register or provide direct assistance to refugees is limited, as is its access to people who are detained or at risk of deportation. These considerations all reinforce the ambiguous status of the country’s Rohingya refugees.

Conclusion

The absence of formal refugee recognition and rights in Saudi Arabia is not merely an administrative oversight, nor is it a refusal to adopt legal frameworks associated with Western legal traditions. It forms part of a governance model that allows the state to have a wide degree of discretionary authority over the Rohingya and other residents who are not Saudi citizens.

To enhance their protection, the Rohingya in Saudi Arabia should be formally recognised as refugees by the country’s authorities, rather than being broadly categorised as ‘Burmese’ or as ‘Muslim migrants from Myanmar’. Such formal recognition would improve the ability of the Rohingya to exercise rights and access services, while reducing the risk of them being subjected to punitive treatment.

Legal recognition as refugees should be accompanied by mechanisms that protect Rohingya from employer abuse, passport confiscation and arbitrary loss of residency. Establishing clearer pathways to regularisation would reduce the ‘permanent temporariness’ that currently characterises their situation. On no account should members of Saudi Arabia’s Rohingya population be deported to Myanmar.

While recognising the constraints under which UNHCR has to work, the organisation should advocate with the Saudi authorities on behalf of the Rohingya, speaking out in public when necessary to challenge the country’s policy of strategic ambiguity. In accordance with the global commitments it has made in relation to refugee consultation and representation, UNHCR should support the establishment of Rohingya-led organisations, ensuring that their perspectives and protection priorities are brought to the attention of the authorities.

About the Author: Sumayya Ferdous is a humanitarian practitioner and researcher specialising in Rohingya refugee protection and displacement issues. Her work focuses on gender, child protection, and advocacy for the rights and wellbeing of displaced communities.

The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author of the presentation and do not necessarily represent the views of United Against Inhumanity (UAI).

The post “When ambiguity is policy: Saudi Arabia and its Rohingya population” by Sumayya Ferdous appeared first on United Against Inhumanity.

Based on the presentation delivered by Kholood Khair at the UAI General Assembly

Sudan is facing a convergence of crises—humanitarian, political, military, and existential. In her compelling address at the UAI General Assembly, Sudanese analyst Kholood Khair, Director of Confluence Advisory, offered a sharp and deeply informed account of how Sudan reached this point and what the international community continues to misunderstand.

A Revolution Interrupted

Khair traced the roots of the conflict to the 2018–2019 revolution, a national awakening that went beyond the traditional urban centres to include peripheral regions that had long suffered under neglect, exploitation, and militarisation.

The revolution was followed by a fragile civilian–military partnership that collapsed with the 2021 military coup, which:

• Restored entrenched military and economic elites
• Reinvigorated Islamist patronage networks
• Reversed Sudan’s brief re-engagement with global institutions

The war that erupted in 2023 was not an isolated event but the culmination of a counter-revolutionary project aimed at dismantling the civic forces that had challenged the old order.

Militarisation and the Breakdown of Society

The war has resulted in:

• Forced recruitment by both the Sudan Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF)
• Ethnicised violence and targeted displacement
• Widespread hunger and collapse of services
• The systematic dismantling of civil society networks

Khair stressed that this is not merely a “civil war.” It is a war on civilians, designed to destroy the infrastructure of resistance committees, professional associations, women’s groups, and youth movements that powered the revolution.

The Battle for Global Opinion

A major theme of Khair’s presentation was the weaponisation of narrative.

Both SAF and RSF run sophisticated international propaganda efforts:

• SAF positions itself as the defender of national sovereignty
• RSF presents itself abroad as the anti-Islamist, technocratic, stabilising force

These narratives distort the conflict, reducing it to a binary that excludes civilians, erases the revolution, and obscures the deep structural drivers of violence.

Gulf Power Politics: A Critical Layer of the Conflict

Khair made it clear that Sudan’s war cannot be understood without acknowledging the strategic involvement of Gulf states—particularly Saudi Arabia and the UAE.

Why the Gulf is deeply invested in Sudan

Sudan’s value to Gulf powers lies in:

• Red Sea access and military positioning
• Land and agricultural projects linked to Gulf food security
• Gold trade networks, particularly those connected to RSF-linked companies

These interests make Sudan not simply a neighbour, but a geopolitical prize.

Saudi Arabia’s Influence

While Saudi Arabia publicly presents itself as a mediator—most visible through the Jeddah negotiation track—Khair highlighted that it also shapes the international frame through which Sudan is interpreted.

Riyadh’s influence results in:

• A diplomatic approach that prioritises elite-level stability over democratic transformation
• International messaging that sidelines Sudanese civilian political actors
• External pressure to favour agreements that maintain militarised political orders

Saudi Arabia’s close alignment with Western policymakers amplifies its narrative power.

The UAE’s Strategic Entanglement

The UAE, Khair noted, has longstanding ties to:

• RSF leadership
• Gold extraction and export chains
• Security contractors and logistical networks

These connections create strong incentives for Abu Dhabi to maintain influence over whichever actors can secure its economic and security interests.

Gulf Rivalries Exported Into Sudan

Although Saudi Arabia and the UAE are partners, their visions for Sudan diverge:

• Riyadh prefers a more consolidated, state-centric security arrangement
• Abu Dhabi has cultivated relationships with non-state actors, particularly the RSF

These tensions export Gulf rivalries directly into Sudanese political and military structures, often at the expense of civilian governance.

The Consequences for Sudan

Khair emphasised that Gulf influence has:

• Militarised Sudanese politics, deepening war economies
• Marginalised civilians in peace talks and international diplomacy
• Fragmented international policy, as Western actors treat Gulf states as indispensable partners in Sudan policy

In short, regional geopolitics—not Sudanese aspirations—often shape the world’s approach to the conflict.

A Call for Civilian-Centred Solidarity

Khair closed with a sobering assessment: Sudan is experiencing the world’s largest displacement crisis, a rapidly escalating famine, and a collapse of humanitarian access. Yet only a fraction of the UN’s funding appeal has been met.

Her message to the GA was unequivocal:

Sudan needs a global solidarity movement that places civilians—not militaries and not regional powers—at the centre of diplomacy, aid, and political engagement.

Without such a shift, Sudan risks being permanently trapped between the interests of warlords and the strategies of powerful external actors.

The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author of the presentation and do not necessarily represent the views of United Against Inhumanity (UAI).

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Based on the presentation of Ubai Aboudi at the UAI General Assembly

In his stark and urgent presentation to the UAI General Assembly, Ubai Aboudi, Director of the Bisan Center for Research and Development, offered a devastating assessment of the situation facing Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank.

A Ceasefire in Name Only

Aboudi opened by rejecting the notion that the recent “ceasefire” represents any real relief. Since its announcement:

• 440 Palestinians have been killed
• Starvation remains widespread
• Medical supplies are blocked
• Reconstruction is impossible, as no building materials are permitted in

Gaza remains physically uninhabitable: flooded camps, destroyed infrastructure, and nearly two million people confined to less than half the territory.

Only 20% of daily essential goods are allowed in—a level Aboudi described as structurally engineered humanitarian deprivation.

The West Bank: A Silent Catastrophe

While global media attention is fixed on Gaza, the West Bank has suffered:

• 28 entire communities displaced since late 2023
• Over 30,000 people forcibly uprooted
• Settler attacks carried out with total impunity
• Collapse of the public sector, including health and education

The Palestinian Authority cannot pay its workers, as Israel withholds tax revenues. Schools operate sporadically; medical facilities are running out of essential medicines.

Unemployment has soared above 35%. Poverty is now at 70%.

A System of Brutal Dehumanization

Aboudi detailed:

• Widespread torture of detainees
• Sexual violence against both male and female prisoners
• Over 70 deaths under torture in Israeli detention since October 2023
• A carceral system so pervasive that one in two Palestinian men has been detained at some point in his life

This, he argued, is the essence of the Israeli system: a structure built to break Palestinian society socially, economically, politically, and physically.

Impunity as Policy

Aboudi highlighted a startling statistic from an Israeli Freedom of Information request:

• More than 470 complaints were filed by Palestinians against settlers for violent attacks.
• Zero settlers were prosecuted.

This total impunity is not an accident; it is a deliberate feature of the system, he said. Violence against Palestinians—whether by the state or by settlers—is systematically protected.

An Economy on the Brink

Perhaps the most alarming warning: banking relations between Palestinian and Israeli institutions are on the verge of collapse.
If these sever entirely, all imports—including food, medicine, and fuel—could stop.

This would trigger immediate economic freefall.

A Genocide in Progress

Aboudi was unequivocal: Palestinians are facing an ongoing genocide, one that is bureaucratically managed and normalized. Its purpose is to make Palestinian life unliveable. His closing message was a call for sustained, global civil engagement—to pressure governments, demand accountability, and counter the silence that enables the destruction of an entire people.

The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author of the presentation and do not necessarily represent the views of United Against Inhumanity (UAI).

The post “Low-Gear Genocide”: the Systematic Destruction of Palestinian Life appeared first on United Against Inhumanity.

The armed conflict in Sudan has uprooted millions of people, some of whom have taken refuge in neighbouring Egypt. As this blog explains, the journey is a difficult and dangerous one, not only for those escaping from Sudan but also for those wishing to return to their homeland.

War and displacement

It has been two and a half years since the outbreak of the war between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), a paramilitary group. During that time, over one and a half million Sudanese have crossed the border into neighbouring Egypt, with 795,000 officially registered as refugees with UNHCR.

This refugee movement has taken place despite the fact that the border between Sudan and Egypt has become almost legally impenetrable. In June 2023, Egypt all but abandoned the longstanding Four Freedoms Agreement on cross-border movements, requiring all Sudanese citizens to apply for visas before entering Egypt.

This initiative was taken against the backdrop of the EU’s establishment of a financial aid package to Egypt, to the tune of some 7.4 billion Euros, which came into effect in 2024. Part of the package was intended to fortify Egypt’s borders and to deepen cooperation with the EU on addressing the perceived threat represented by refugee movements from the Horn of Africa to Egypt and subsequently across the Mediterranean Sea.

In practice, however, Egyptian visas have been rarely issued to Sudanese citizens, especially those who lack the coveted wasta, an Arabic word meaning “connections and influence.” As a result, most of the people wishing to escape from the escalating violence in Sudan had to engage the services of human smugglers in order to make the journey through the desert to the relative safety of Egypt.

These journeys were often treacherous and traumatic. Refugees were crammed into the back of the smugglers’ pickup trucks and tied together so that they would not fall out. The trucks crossed the desert at high speed, the passengers at risk of dehydration during the heat of the day and hypothermia during the cold of the night.

To avoid being caught, the smugglers rarely stopped their vehicles, depriving refugees of the opportunity to eat or go to the toilet. Those who fell off the speeding vehicles were usually abandoned in the desert, as were those who got into arguments with the smugglers. They were then at risk of being captured by human trafficking gangs who patrolled the route to Egypt, looking for easy targets to hold for ransom.

Given these dangers, it was a major relief for the Sudanese to arrive in the southern Egyptian city of Aswan, a place where they could make phone calls to friends and relatives and make plans for the onward journey to Cairo. While many had family members and social networks in the Egyptian capital, life there brought its own hardships.

Precarious conditions in Egypt

The assistance available to refugees in Cairo has been cut as a result of reductions to the aid budgets of donor states and humanitarian organizations. Even registered refugees need valid residency permits to access public services such as housing, healthcare and education, and it can take more than a year for those permits to be renewed. As a result, many refugees are left in a precarious legal situation. To make the situation worse, police raids have become increasingly common in those parts of Cairo where refugees have congregated, with some of them being deported.

In these circumstances, it is not surprising that Sudanese refugees in Egypt have been asking themselves whether they should return to their own country. And some of them have actually done so. As reported by several media outlets, Egypt’s national railway service has been providing the refugees with free journeys from Cairo to Aswan, where they can board a bus that takes them back across the border and onward to Khartoum.

These reports have tended to emphasize how pleased the refugees are to return to Sudan, and how thankful they are to Egypt for its hospitality. But the hope and positivity expressed by some of the returnees do not tell the full story. The grim reality for most is that they are leaving Egypt because of the difficulties of life in that country. And once they have crossed the border, they are confronted with a new set of hardships in Sudan.

While some parts of the country have become less dangerous since the SAF recaptured Khartoum in March 2025, much of the country’s infrastructure has been destroyed.

Electricity is in short supply. Clean water is scarce, while rates of cholera and dengue fever are rising. The RSF has continued to fly armed drones into the capital city, while massacres are taking place in and around the city of El Fasher in the western region of Darfur.

Going back to Sudan

Having found their homes destroyed, their possessions looted and their neighbourhoods turned into military centres that are inaccessible to civilians, some of the refugees who took the train and bus back to Sudan are now moving to Egypt for a second time. A number are travelling backwards and forwards between the two countries, visiting family members who refused to leave Sudan, especially the sick and elderly, making a living by trading Sudanese goods such as coffee, spices and tobacco, or attending important events such as weddings and funerals.

Needless to say, such cross-border movements are dangerous. As well as the risk of death, injury and abandonment as a result of road accidents and breakdowns, travellers are liable to be shot by soldiers. They are also expensive. A friend who recently went to Sudan to attend a family funeral was obliged to pay the equivalent of $420 for a five-day return journey. But with regular migration routes all but closed, there is no other option.

Egypt is eager to promote the notion that the Sudanese are happily returning to their own country and successfully re-establishing their lives there. This narrative, it is hoped, will placate the Egyptian population, who increasingly believe that refugees have stolen their jobs and pushed up rental prices. It will also please the EU, which is eager to see Sudanese refugees going back to their homes. The reality, however, is that the conditions of life in both Egypt and Sudan will continue to generate treacherous cross-border movements of people.

About the author: Elena Habersky is a PhD Candidate at the University of Glasgow studying the
movement of Sudanese refugees to and from Cairo.

The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of United Against Inhumanity (UAI).

The post “Treacherous travels: Sudanese movements to and from Egypt”, by Elena Habersky appeared first on United Against Inhumanity.

A recent high-level conference at the United Nations failed to chart a path to solve the Rohingya crisis, while the need for international commitment and a comprehensive approach is more acute than ever.

On September 30, the United Nations General Assembly held a special conference on the Rohingya in New York. Unlike other UN conferences, the meeting did not follow a well-defined preparatory process, and UN member states did not present a negotiated outcome.

The participants mostly listened to three-minute speeches from Rohingya participants (but not including refugees in Bangladesh), UN member states and agencies, and civil society organisations.

It is not clear what anybody took away from the event, and there was no time for genuine debate, except during some informal sideline events. Presentations by most delegations reflected existing findings and recommendations, and new perspectives were limited.

On the positive side, active international media engagement reminded the world of the Rohingya’s plight, and some government donors announced new financial contributions. There was also evidence of a growing understanding that support for Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh must shift from humanitarian relief to long-term solutions. Also, many acknowledged that the current situation in Rakhine State is not suitable for their immediate return.

Time will tell whether the conference becomes a starting point for greater international commitment to solving the Rohingya crisis. But can a one-day meeting turn into a process?

Rakhine has been engulfed in a bloody war between the Myanmar junta and the Arakan Army since November 2023. Blockades imposed by the Myanmar military regime, as well as its widespread use of indiscriminate artillery and airstrikes, are exacting a huge toll on civilians, and many have fled the state, while those who remain are struggling to survive.

The already dire situation along the Bangladeshi border has deteriorated further in recent months, as clashes between the AA and Rohingya armed groups, including the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army and the Rohingya Solidarity Organisation, have increased.

The AA has accused both the Bangladesh Border Guard and the Myanmar junta of arming Rohingya militias and facilitating their attacks in northern Rakhine, while the Bangladeshi authorities and Rohingya militias accuse the AA of committing atrocities against Rohingya civilians.

In this context, the opportunities for dialogue that many in the UN conference hoped for are gradually slipping away.

Meanwhile, Bangladesh has often received praise for being a generous host of around 1.1 million Rohingya refugees. While gratitude is warranted, the government has implemented a policy of exclusion that keeps the Rohingya in highly securitised camps, banning them from employment and official education.

Bangladesh disappointed many at the UN conference with its refusal to lift these bans, which stands in the way of much needed sustainable solutions. Allowing the Rohingya to work would defray humanitarian costs and ensure that refugees acquire the skills and experience they will need upon their return to Rakhine.

There are also Rohingya in other countries, but they are usually ignored – and the UN conference was no different. According to a report by Doctors Without Borders, in 2024 the number of Rohingya around the world totalled 2.8 million. The four countries with the largest numbers of refugees were Bangladesh with 1.1 million, Pakistan with 400,000, Saudi Arabia with 340,000 and Malaysia with 210,000.

By ignoring this reality, the conference failed to acknowledge that the Rohingya crisis needs a variety of approaches. While in Bangladesh ultimate repatriation is the key priority, in countries with refugee flows from decades ago, such as Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, other solutions could be pursued, such as integration into host societies.

Meanwhile, there are several key issues that should be part of overall solutions for the Rohingya in Rakhine. These include equality before the law and citizenship for them, dispelling the “fog of war” in the conflict by distinguishing between true and false information, and the development of a comprehensive plan for the state.

Many speakers in New York stressed the importance of Myanmar citizenship for the Rohingya, but their interventions suggested a limited understanding of the complexity of the situation. For instance, who should grant them citizenship? The military junta, which has lost control of much of the country, the National Unity Government, or the AA? 

Myanmar is an enormously diverse country, and the issue of citizenship is part of a wider, and still open, question of inclusion and equality for all.

Successive governments have used this diversity to divide the Myanmar population, while the debate on citizenship is virtually absent within the resistance movement, constituting a “blind spot” of the anti-junta camp, in the words of analyst Sai Latt. While younger generations are more open to dialogue, it lingers as a significant reluctance to openly discuss the issue among the general population. 

The Federal Democracy Charter, a roadmap for transition to a new constitution, was adopted by the National Unity Consultative Council in 2021, and it continues to categorise people into two groups: officially recognised indigenous ethnic groups (or taingyinthar) and others – with differential rights.

Although the NUG initially hinted that it was prepared to accept citizenship for the Rohingya, its commitment appears to have faded. In 2024, the parallel government issued a joint position statement with allied organisations which includes the principle of “national equality”, but this suggests such an equality is reserved for officially accepted national groups.

It must be remembered that not only the Rohingya have been denied citizenship, but also other Muslim communities, Chinese, Hindus, Gurkhas, Sikhs, Anglo-Burmans and others. It is high time to explore collaboration with these groups and present the citizenship question in all its dimensions.

A more immediate problem is to know exactly what is going on in Rakhine. Suffering is obviously immense and atrocities are committed on a regular basis, but getting correct information is difficult amid conflict, displacement and telecommunications blockades. As often happens in such situations, deliberate disinformation thrives.

Linked to this “fog of war” is the question of victimhood. The fact that the Rohingya are victims is accepted around the world. But what about the other communities in the state, including the Rakhine majority or minorities like the Maramagyi, the Mro, the Kaman, the Hindus, the Chin and others? They too are victims. They too have had their villages bombed and burned, while thousands are displaced in areas with no access to aid. 

The acknowledgement that all Rakhine populations have been victimised would be a first step toward reconciliation. It is also evident that there are different degrees of victimhood and destitution; this too must be acknowledged before any fruitful dialogue can take place.

Yet what is needed first are independent investigations into what has happened in northern Rakhine since the war resumed in November 2023, including allegations of atrocities committed by the Myanmar military, the AA and Rohingya militants. The AA’s recent invitation to Tom Andrews, the UN special rapporteur on human rights in Myanmar, to visit the country could be the start of a process toward a better understanding of what has been happening in northern Rakhine over the past two years.

It is also necessary to ascertain what has happened in the camps in Bangladesh: how did Rohingya militias manage to get a firm hold on the refugees? Where do their funding and weapons come from? And how is it possible that thousands of fighters managed to cross, seemingly unnoticed, the border to Rakhine?

Beyond that, a comprehensive plan for Rakhine is needed, focusing not only on humanitarian needs but also on addressing three major crises pertaining to security, economics and development, and human rights. This suggestion dates back to 2017, when the Advisory Commission on Rakhine State, headed by Kofi Annan, made it part of its recommendations.

To assist with the development of such a plan, the international community must move away from its traditional state-centric approach, which implies continued acceptance of Nay Pyi Taw’s military regime as its main interlocutor. 

A good starting point would be pragmatic crossborder humanitarian support to the state, which requires full cooperation from Bangladesh. This support is not only urgently needed but is also in the interest of authorities on both sides of the border, and it would help to create the kind of stability and security needed to move forward.

Yet, adequate humanitarian support for the Rohingya camps in Bangladesh, and for the population in Rakhine, is only the beginning of a massive task. For now, the UN conference has not delivered better prospects for long-term assistance needed to equip Rohingya outside Myanmar with the kind of skills they will need on their return. It is also important for the Rohingya to unite and counter efforts to divide them.

About the author: Laetitia van den Assum is a former Netherlands ambassador. She was also a member of the Advisory Commission on Rakhine State (2016-2017).

The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of United Against Inhumanity (UAI).

This article was previously published by Frontier Myanmar: https://www.frontiermyanmar.net/en/searching-for-solutions-for-the-rohingya/

The post “Searching for solutions for the Rohingya” by Laetitia van den Assum. appeared first on United Against Inhumanity.

I’ve been studying the Rohingya refugee situation in Bangladesh since 2020. I’ve spoken to countless Rohingya refugees living in camps in Bangladesh. I’ve conducted research with Rohingya refugees and written with them. I’ve travelled to Bhasan Char twice, and those trips allowed me to gain a deeper sense of the situation there and the nature of challenges faced by refugees relocated to the island. So, what I’m speaking about today is based on five years of constant engagement with the Rohingya refugee situation in Bangladesh.

I’m going to discuss two key findings based on the research my colleagues and I have conducted at the Centre for Peace and Justice at BRAC University and the University of Oslo in Norway. Based on these two findings, I will discuss two alternative approaches or interconnected solutions. It’s undoubtedly going to be hard to make these alternative approaches a reality, but the fact that it’s an uphill battle shouldn’t be a reason to shy away from trying to alleviate the plight of the Rohingya people in Bangladesh.

Key Finding 1: A Limited ‘Right to Have Rights’

“With a limited ‘right to have rights,’ the status of over a million Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh is precarious.”

Let us, for a moment, think about the existing legal and political framework in Bangladesh. Bangladesh is not a party to the 1951 Refugee Convention or its 1967 Protocol, and it does not have a national refugee law. The majority of the Rohingya people do not have refugee status. In the absence of refugee status, their protection is governed by confidential Memoranda of Understanding (MOUs) between governments and UNHCR (to which the refugees have no access), by constitutional guarantees of basic rights, and by ad hoc policies.

This is why we borrow from Hannah Arendt and say that the Rohingya in Bangladesh live with what we call a “limited right to have rights.” This enables the Bangladesh government to respond to the plight of Rohingya refugees in an ad hoc manner, leaving them in a state of precarity, as demonstrated in their fragile access to education, livelihoods, and justice.

For example, refugees found outside designated camps have often been detained under the Foreigners Act of 1946. In practice, the justice system available to them is not through formal courts of law but through administrative officials in camps and informal systems of justice led by Rohingya armed groups and community leaders.

“The Rohingya in Bangladesh live under ad hoc governance — a system where protection depends on politics, not on rights.”

The Right to Education

During extensive fieldwork in Ukhiya and Bhasan Char, many of the Rohingya refugees who participated in Focus Group Discussions (FGDs) felt that the educational facilities in the camps existed only in name — that many were merely for “show.” Refugees expressed dissatisfaction with the quality of education provided by NGOs, with one Rohingya respondent pointing to low salaries for teachers, which resulted in a lack of qualified staff in schools run by INGOs and NGOs.

Key Finding 2: Livelihoods and the Right to Work

“Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh are not officially or legally allowed to work.”
This restriction stems from fears of exacerbating tensions with host communities and concerns that employment opportunities would encourage refugees to stay rather than return to Myanmar.

And yet, work happens. Refugees participate in the informal economy, often in exploitative conditions. Some are engaged by NGOs or UN agencies as “volunteers,” earning small stipends that provide a degree of dignity but fall far short of real self-reliance.

Let’s not forget that decades of marginalisation in Myanmar mean that many Rohingya also lack the formal education or vocational training needed to break into skilled professions in Bangladesh and beyond.

The result is a cycle of dependency: refugees survive on humanitarian aid, while the host state and communities feel the mounting pressure of limited resources.

Although not officially permitted to work, many refugees engage in informal labour outside the camps or in small businesses either refugee-run or in partnership with host community members. Refugees accessing the informal labour economy in the host community stay outside the camps for five to ten days straight.

It was a shared understanding between the refugees, Rohingya majhis (community leaders), and the police that refugee men would return to their shelters only after their work was complete and they had earned enough money.

When a 20-year-old Rohingya man working as a day labourer inside the camps was asked if he ever wanted to get an education, he said:

“I did want to, but I must eat. If I study, I can’t get by. And if I focus on getting by, I can’t study.”

Interestingly, while Rohingya refugees living on Bhasan Char are permitted to work, the lack of market integration with the mainland has severely limited sustainable livelihood opportunities on the island — leaving many feeling “disappointed and betrayed.”

Towards Solutions: Recommendations

This situation cannot continue indefinitely. To move beyond survival to dignity, two key steps are essential.

1. Adopt a National Refugee Law

Bangladesh should adopt a national refugee law. Such a law need not replicate the 1951 Convention word for word; rather, it should be rooted in the lived experiences of the Rohingya in Bangladesh and in the country’s own long history of hosting displaced populations.

Over the past two years, I was fortunate to lead a team of young, passionate researchers, and we prepared a comprehensive Model Law for refugees in Bangladesh, which emphasises access to livelihoods, education, justice, and movement, among other rights.

2. Recognise the Right to Work — and Go Beyond the Law

Here, the international community plays a vital role. Bangladesh alone cannot shoulder this responsibility. The compacts relating to Jordan and Ethiopia provide important precedents: Jordan issued work permits to Syrian refugees in exchange for foreign investment and trade preferences.

A similar Bangladesh Compact, backed by substantial international financing, could allow Rohingya refugees to contribute to the economy rather than be perceived as a burden.

“Shared responsibility must mean shared opportunity.”

We don’t have to call it the Bangladesh Compact — terminology can evolve — but the principle of partnership remains crucial.

Over the past year, due to political transitions, the situation has become even more challenging. When I first visited Bhasan Char in 2022, a Rohingya man told me:

“The easiest way to address my sadness is by letting me work.”

When it comes to searching for alternative approaches to the Rohingya situation in Bangladesh, it is still possible to move away from precarity towards meaningful protection.

We can still move away from exclusion to empowerment.

To achieve protection and empowerment, we must envision the value of enacting a domestic model law for refugees — one that dismantles the architecture of exclusion (which Shafiur bhai spoke about earlier) — and forge a compact with the international community that promotes greater responsibility-sharing.

“Protection without empowerment is unsustainable; empowerment without inclusion is impossible.”

Only then can the integration of the Rohingya people into Bangladesh be perceived — and realised — as a win-win for both the Rohingya and local communities.

This is a slightly revised version of the author’s presentation on the Workshop on Alternative Approaches to the Rohingya Refugee Situation (London, September 5, 2025).

About the author: Dr. M. Sanjeeb Hossain is a law scholar specialising in refugee rights at the Centre for Peace and Justice, BRAC University, and the Department of Criminology and Sociology of Law, University of Oslo.

The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of United Against Inhumanity (UAI).

The post “Alternative and Medium-Term Approaches to the Rohingya Refugee Situation”, by Dr. M. Sanjeeb Hossain appeared first on United Against Inhumanity.

From the author’s contribution to the Panel on Rakhine State, London workshop “Alternative Approaches to the Rohingya Refugee Situation,” September 5, 2025.

Over the years, a considerable number of issues and problems related to the Rohingya have been defined. But solutions have mostly focused narrowly on how humanitarian assistance should be applied. For the upcoming UN conference on the Rohingya (September 30, 2025), a much more comprehensive approach is required.

1. Which Rohingya are we talking about in the run-up to the UN conference?

A 2024 report by Doctors Without Borders entitled Behind the Wire estimates that in 2023 there were 2.8 million Rohingya around the world. Let’s say there are 3 million now.

Of these 3 million, 1.2 million are in Bangladesh, and only around 500,000 probably remain in Arakan (Rakhine State). That leaves another 1.3 million in other countries such as Malaysia, Indonesia, India, Pakistan, and Saudi Arabia.

But in preparations for New York, we hear mostly about those in Bangladesh, and not about other countries hosting refugees. And ironically, as the conference approaches, India has been forcing Rohingya refugees back into Myanmar and Bangladesh, while earlier this year Malaysia pushed unseaworthy boats packed with fleeing Rohingya back onto the high seas.

Bangladesh has managed to draw attention to the Rohingya on its territory. But what about other countries? What have they done, and what has the UN done to make sure that the Rohingya crisis is treated as a global crisis?

2. The question of inclusion, or equality for all in Myanmar, including citizenship

The author Sai Latt calls the absence of this question a ‘blind spot’ in the anti-coup movement—and rightly so. Myanmar is a country where issues of diversity and ethnicity have long been used to divide population groups.

Look at the Federal Democracy Charter. It is a roadmap for transition to a new constitution. It was adopted by the opposition National Unity Consultative Council (NUCC) in 2021 and is meant to lead to a transitional constitution for Myanmar. But work has been painfully slow.

The original document of 2021 does not accept the principle of non-discrimination and equality for all.

Tragically, it continues to categorize people in two groups: officially recognized ethnic groups (or Taing Yin Thar) and others with differential rights. I was deeply disappointed when I first noticed this. It didn’t match the enthusiasm and determination of so many in the Spring Revolution for the kind of profound change that is needed.

A new draft for a transitional constitution is now being prepared. It will probably be adopted ahead of the junta’s planned December elections. That makes this a critical time to lobby for changes that reflect equality for all.

Importantly, this is not only a Rohingya issue. It also affects other communities, including other Muslims, Chinese, Hindus, Gurkhas, Sikhs, Anglo-Burmans, and so on. Let’s start presenting the problem in its full dimensions and join hands with other groups whose very identities are at stake. It is an issue that potentially excludes between 10 and 15 percent of Myanmar’s population, including the Rohingya (according to Dr. Sai Latt).

3. The fog of war

It is hard to characterize the current situation of the Rohingya in Arakan (Rakhine State) and in the refugee camps in Bangladesh. The suffering is immense, and atrocities are being committed. But as in many other places around the world, violent conflict, displacement, and hunger obscure a clear view of developments on the ground. And as often in such situations, deliberate disinformation thrives.

Let’s not pretend we have a full view of what is happening in Arakan and in the camps. Lack of independent access and blocked internet connections compound an already complex situation. It pays to be careful with news and information circulating both in Arakan and in Bangladesh. Independent confirmation is needed but often unavailable.

It is a tragedy that the military regime in Naypyidaw has succeeded, once again, with its divide-and-rule policy. Even though it no longer controls over 90 percent of Arakan’s territory, the divide between Arakan’s communities is its success. And it has also increased distrust within the Rohingya community.

Closely linked to the fog of war is the issue of victimhood. Obviously, it is not necessary to argue that the Rohingya are victims; that is accepted around the world. But what about the other communities in Arakan—the Rakhine, the Maramagyi, the Kaman, the Hindus, the Chin, and many others?

They too are victims. They too have had their villages bombed and burned, their clinics, schools, and prayer houses destroyed, while thousands are displaced in areas where relief goods do not reach them.

A first step in reconciliation could be the acknowledgment that all of Arakan’s people are victims. And clearly, there are different degrees of victimhood and destitution, and these too must be acknowledged.

But what is needed first are independent investigations into what has happened in northern Arakan and in Bangladesh over the last two years. One part should deal with atrocity allegations against Myanmar’s military regime, the Arakan Army, and Rohingya militias; the other should focus on what happened in Bangladesh. How did Rohingya militias manage to get a firm grip on the Rohingya population in the refugee camps? Where did funding and arms for their operations come from? And how was it possible that hundreds managed to cross the Bangladesh–Myanmar border unnoticed?

4. Comprehensive plan for Arakan

Arakan’s problems are manifold. While it is tempting to focus only on some of the worst manifestations, such as the Rohingya crisis, this would not bring about the badly needed comprehensive and sustainable solutions.

What is needed is one comprehensive plan for all of Arakan—one that focuses not only on humanitarian needs but on dealing with three major crises:

• The security crisis
• The economic and development crisis
• The human rights crisis

Of course, transitional justice elements should be part of the plan.

To assist with the development of such a plan, the international community must move away from its traditional state-centric approach that implies kowtowing to the brutal regime in Naypyidaw and to the international supporters who follow it blindly.

Clearly, cross-border humanitarian support is critically important and needed immediately. I know that cross-border assistance remains a sensitive issue in Bangladesh. But perhaps Bangladesh could look at the decades-long experience on the Myanmar–Thai border, where growing pragmatism has led to practices that work much of the time. Such assistance would help create the kind of stability and security in Arakan that is so important for Bangladesh.

About the author: Laetitia van den Assum is the former Ambassador of the Netherlands in Myanmar and member of the Advisory Commission on Rakhine State (2016–2017), chaired by Kofi Annan.

The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of United Against Inhumanity (UAI).

The post “Rohingya and Arakan: From Humanitarian Crisis to Comprehensive Solutions”, by Laetitia van den Assum. appeared first on United Against Inhumanity.

The humanitarian discussion around Rohingya refugees often portrays Bangladesh as a generous host burdened by circumstances beyond its control. This “burdened host” humanitarian storytelling is everywhere. But this narrative misses the real story.

Bangladesh has built a political economy of containment around the Rohingya refugee population. In fact, its posture as a reluctant host masks a calculated strategy. Successive governments have adapted to the Rohingya presence through policies that convert exclusion into domestic political capital and international leverage. Control and restriction are not unfortunate by-products of crisis management; they are deliberate, embedded in policy, and materially rewarding for political and economic elites.

We’ve seen the same pattern again and again — from forced returns in 1978 and the 1990s, to the refusal to register Rohingya after 1992, to the post-2017 regime of restrictions. Temporary shelter is offered, but long-term marginalisation is the rule.

The camps have been deliberately kept isolated and securitised. Barbed wire fencing, bans on formal education, livelihoods, and movement, and the tolerance of armed groups and abusive policing all serve a dual purpose: to avoid integration and to maintain a constant crisis atmosphere that is useful for bargaining.

The real question is: how do we make it more costly for Bangladesh to maintain the current system of Rohingya exclusion?

Bangladesh extracts four key benefits from its restrictive approach:

1. Political dividends: Bangladesh portrays itself internationally as a humanitarian host. By doing so, it secures global legitimacy and donor goodwill — even as it enforces draconian policies against the Rohingya.
2. Economic gains: Bangladesh secures aid flows, infrastructure development, and contracts for local elites.
3. Labour exploitation: Bangladesh benefits from undocumented Rohingya workers in various industries.
4. Geostrategic leverage: The refugee population becomes a bargaining chip in relations with China, India, ASEAN, and the West.

Wherever you read about the Rohingya, you will read that they are “aid-dependent.” But let’s deconstruct that.

The idea that the Rohingya are merely passive recipients of aid erases their economic contributions and, more crucially, their systematic exploitation in Bangladesh’s informal labour markets. Far from being idle, many Rohingya work — without rights, protections, or fair pay — in agriculture, construction, salt farming, and informal garment production. These roles remain unrecognised precisely because formal recognition would require labour protections and disrupt a supply of cheap, exploitable labour.

The “aid-dependent” label functions ideologically: it naturalises containment, justifies exclusionary policies, and conceals the surplus value extracted from Rohingya lives. It also serves the interests of both Bangladeshi elites and international agencies — one gains control and patronage, the other maintains funding pipelines and institutional relevance. In truth, the Rohingya are made vulnerable not because they are a burden, but so they can be exploited — both as cheap labour and as commodities within the aid economy.

When aid is cut and work is criminalised, refugees are pushed into unregulated, exploitative labour markets just to survive. The system traps them between dependence and danger — punished if they rely on aid, punished if they try to be self-reliant.

This is why framing the challenge as one of “mitigating impact” through infrastructure or investment is so misleading. The issue is not the presence of refugees, but the architecture of exclusion that keeps them from contributing safely and legally. The greatest constraint on economic potential in Cox’s Bazar is not the refugees themselves, but Bangladesh’s deliberate policy of containment. Restrictions on movement, work, and education have disabled meaningful participation while fuelling dependency and resentment. Infrastructure without rights becomes another tool of control.

A serious strategy ought to begin by enabling safe, lawful livelihoods — not as a political reward, but as a practical necessity in a protracted crisis. Denying Rohingya the ability to work legally compounds both humanitarian dependency and local economic dysfunction. It prevents them from living with dignity and denies host communities the potential gains of shared growth.

Forward-looking investment must integrate both refugee and host communities through area-based development: co-owned enterprises, skills training centres, and joint access to services, energy, and water. Development finance must be made conditional on rights-based reforms and not used to entrench a regime of exclusion. Any serious economic strategy must begin by restoring Rohingya agency.

This architecture of control is enforced top-down through the Camp-in-Charge (CiC) system. It is a command structure run by government officials with absolutely no democratic accountability to refugees. CiCs sit at the top of an exploitative hierarchy, overseeing everything from aid distribution to information flows. They act as gatekeepers for UN agencies, NGOs, and refugees alike, wielding authority through favouritism and coercion. The CiC system does not increase protection or participation. Instead, it entrenches dependency and sidelines Rohingya voices from decisions that shape their lives. It is not a humanitarian mechanism; it is an authoritarian one.

Local hostility to the ideas proposed by United Against Inhumanity is almost inevitable unless the structural drivers of resentment are confronted. For years, state narratives and media framing have cast the Rohingya as job-stealers, resource burdens, criminals, and security threats — a portrayal weaponised by political elites to justify harsh restrictions while ignoring the role of state policy in manufacturing this tension. Any serious alternative must go beyond service delivery and confront this manufactured hostility head-on.

To elicit support from both local people and authorities, the strategy must centre on shared prosperity, not parallel systems. That means:

• Area-based development that visibly benefits both groups (e.g. joint access to schools, health clinics, water, and transport infrastructure);
• Transparent governance of aid funds to reduce elite capture and corruption;
• Job creation schemes that favour Bangladeshi–Rohingya collaboration, rather than competition;
• Narrative re-framing, supported by independent media and civil society, to dismantle the image of the Rohingya as burdens and instead show them as contributors.

So what does it really mean to go beyond the tired script of “repatriation and relief”?

It means breaking with the architecture of containment — a system that international agencies have too often stabilised through funding models, risk aversion, and bureaucratic inertia. Donor models remain timid: short-term, optics-driven, and allergic to political confrontation. By avoiding issues like movement, legal identity, or work rights, they end up reinforcing the very architecture of containment they claim to alleviate.

Institutions like the World Bank, ADB, UNDP, UNHCR, and IOM must fundamentally reorient their engagement.

That means:

• No more funding without rights. Development finance must be tied to concrete gains: freedom of movement, access to work, education, and legal identity.
• No more secret MOUs. How on earth would that be acceptable to the Rohingya?
• No more parallel systems. Investments need to link refugee well-being to host community prosperity — not as some kind of charity, but through inclusive planning and shared governance of infrastructure, services, and livelihoods.
• No more empty theatre. Stop staging high-profile visits while the real economy is built on refugee exploitation.

To conclude: Bangladesh’s model of Rohingya containment is not a temporary holding pattern — it is politically and economically rewarding for the state. International actors must stop sustaining it. That means recalibrating the cost-benefit equation: confronting the aid-industrial complex, dismantling the fiction of dependency, and building pathways to refugee agency through enforceable rights and economic inclusion. Anything less will simply reproduce the very exclusions we claim to oppose.

About the author: Shafiur Rahman is a journalist and documentary filmmaker focusing on the politics of refugee management in South and Southeast Asia. He writes the Rohingya Refugee News newsletter.

The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of United Against Inhumanity (UAI).

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