A large Muslim population is dispossessed of their land and driven by genocidal violence into concentration camp-like conditions. They remain sandwiched between concertina wire and the threat of wholescale slaughter, and the prospect of their return to a dignified and prosperous existence appears to wane by the hour. I’m speaking here not of the Palestinians in Gaza but of the much less publicized Rohingya people. Originally from Myanmar, many now live in the world’s largest refugee camp in the region of Cox’s Bazar in neighboring Bangladesh. The fate of the Rohingya, like that of their Gazan counterparts, is intimately tied to an ongoing conflict rife with state-sponsored human rights violations and mass atrocities. The current civil war in Myanmar is a struggle between a military dictatorship and a complex, multiethnic resistance, the outcome of which has profound implications for the Rohingya’s future. 

Unfortunately, the world has paid relatively little attention to the war or the Rohingya. As Myanmar human rights activist and dissident Maung Zarni wrote, what Myanmar lacks is not “human talents or revolutionary experiences, but […] international solidarity.” At the height of the 2017 assault on the Rohingya, one analysis found that the New York Times reporting on the subject peaked at 127 articles for the year. Compare that to their coverage of the first year of war in Ukraine, where the Times claimed over 850 journalists working to produce a stream of “24/7 live briefings,” visual investigations, dozens of podcasts, and countless articles.

Despite the lackluster media attention, this is an issue of significance for the international left, which should mobilize in solidarity with the Rohingya in the same way it has done for the Palestinian freedom movement, which has seen the coalescing of disparate movements for a unified cause. 

The Rohingya people are an ethnic minority that have lived in what is now the Rakhine state of Myanmar for hundreds of years, prior to any conception of what is now considered the nation-state of Myanmar (previously called Burma). The Rohingya’s dark complexion, unique language, and Muslim identity set them apart from the mostly Buddhist and ethnically Bamar ruling class which has dominated the government and military for decades. The borders that comprise the modern state of Myanmar include dozens of ethnic groups with their own unique languages, religions, and cultural practices. Since the country’s independence from the U.K. in 1948, the Bamar-dominated government has faced almost constant opposition, which has oscillated between violent insurgencies and peaceful civil disobedience movements. Simultaneously, the country has struggled with its political identity. Less than two decades after its independence, Myanmar’s initial experiment with federal democracy came to an end when in 1962 a military junta seized power and instituted an oppressive authoritarian government. For the next several decades, the country would essentially remain under military control, with the leaders instituting a stifling program of censorship and political persecutions. In the early 2000s, discontent with the military took the form of popular protests such as the “Saffron Revolution,” which helped to spur real democratic reforms. Ultimately, however, these were wrecked on the shoals of another military coup in 2021. This current iteration of military rule has proved to be one of the most brutally oppressive regimes in the world today. 

Throughout this entire political journey, the Rohingya have remained firmly under the boot of whatever political entity ruled Myanmar. Since independence, all successive governments have refused to grant the Rohingya full citizenship or allow them to register as an official ethnic group. The justification, peddled predominantly by Buddhist nationalists and military elites, is that the Rohingya do not constitute a defined group native to Myanmar. They are, it is claimed, “Bengali” forgeries who have crossed the border into Myanmar from Bangladesh recently enough that they can be asked, or violently forced, to return. Through concerted propaganda campaigns utilizing print media as well as Facebook, Buddhist nationalists were able to frame the Rohingya Muslims as a threat to Myanmar’s Buddhist identity. The demonization became so ubiquitous that even predominant Myanmar democratic activists, such as Nobel Peace Laureate Aung San Suu Kyi, were not willing to admit to the scale of the persecution. Rakhine state’s Buddhist nationalist majority have for decades used violence and intimidation in an effort to cleanse the region of the Rohingya population, with intermittent flare ups resulting in a near steady stream of migrants crossing into Bangladesh for refuge.

In 2017, the violence reached genocidal levels when local militias, supported by the Myanmar military, swept across the region in “a coordinated campaign to forcibly relocate or remove the state’s Muslims.” The violence was indiscriminate. They burned villages and engaged in systematic rape and torture. In around a month, the perpetrators killed over 8,000 men, women and children, with 1,247 of them under five years of age. The horror had its intended effect. Over 600,000 people fled the violence, crossing the border to Bangladesh to join other Rohingya who had taken refuge in the coastal enclave of Cox’s Bazar after previous pogroms. 

Since the 2017 atrocity, the camp in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh, has swelled to nearly a million Rohingya refugees, making it the largest such camp in the world. Almost seven years later, the population has remained stagnant, and conditions in the camp have deteriorated to horrific levels. I recently spent the better part of a year in the camp as a physician treating the Rohingya, and I was shocked at their circumstances. They live in small tarpaulin huts squeezed together along overcrowded streets. The number of latrines available—much fewer than aid experts would recommend—are overflowing with human waste. When the rains come, children regularly drown in the muddy runoffs that flood the camps. Malnutrition is rampant. Just before my arrival, budget cuts forced the World Food Program to cut food rations from $12 to $8 per person per month, resulting in 90 percent of the population lacking an adequate amount of food. The effects were obvious. We often saw malnourished children die after succumbing to relatively benign infections that their weakened immune systems just couldn’t fight. The camp is surrounded by a barbed wire fence, and the movement of the Rohingya is strictly controlled by the Bangladeshi authorities, who maintain complete authority over every aspect of Rohingya life. They are forbidden from working or earning a living and are forced to rely on international aid for subsistence. They can be sentenced to jail without trial on the whim of Bangladeshi camp officials.

The circumstances in the camp reflect the precarious situation between Bangladesh and the Rohingya. Many Bangladeshis do sympathize with the plight of their beleaguered guests, but Bangladesh is also struggling with its own challenges regarding poverty and rapid development. The scale and protracted nature of the crisis have tested the host community’s generosity and provided fodder for those Bangladeshi politicians and media outlets willing to play on xenophobic tropes and paint the Rohingya as dangerous outsiders. Suffice to say, the Rohingya’s prospects for a future in Bangladesh are “bleak.” Many Rohingya I’ve met would jump at the chance to resettle in the U.S. or Europe, but given the sheer number of refugees, resettlement in a third country is unlikely. For example, as of this year, a plan organized by the U.S. has relocated only a few hundred individuals. While the international community can and should do more to offer their respective nations as resettlement options, finding new homes in third party countries for this many people is unlikely.  

A third option is voluntary return to Myanmar. The prospect of this being a realistic option depends entirely on the outcome of the current civil war. The conflict started in 2021 when the Myanmar military staged a coup d’état and deposed the country’s feeble democratic institutions. This caused immediate protests throughout the country and open rebellion from the various regional Ethnic Resistance Organizations (EROs) that operate throughout the country. The military junta wasted no time demonstrating what type of authority they intended to impose—one that has executed children as they go about their daily lives. According to Human Rights Watch, their three-year rule has been marked by “arbitrary arrests, torture, extrajudicial killings, and indiscriminate attacks on civilians.” Thus far, the Rohingya that remain in Myanmar have not fared well during the war. The Myanmar military has forcibly conscripted Rohingya into their army, creating a perverse scenario in which the victims of violent persecution are being forced to fight in support of their tormentors. There have also been recent reports of the Arakan Army, one of the more powerful EROs fighting the government, being behind atrocities committed toward the Rohingya such as mass killings and the destruction of homes. For their part, the Arakan Army denies responsibility for these acts and maintains that they “uphold the citizenship and human rights of the Muslim residents in Arakan[Rakhine].” 

However grim this all might seem, there is hope. The immediate reaction to the military junta, termed the “Spring Revolution,” was a largely peaceful civil disobedience movement. Their symbol of resistance being three fingers raised high in the air, people took to the streets in massive demonstrations that bridged gender, ethnic, and socioeconomic differences. The Spring Revolution’s broad coalition cuts a stark contrast from Myanmar’s historically conservative, patriarchal, and ethnocentric political and military elite. Even the typically sclerotic professional classes put their social status and lives at risk by participating in massive strikes and refusing to be complicit in the junta’s abuses. "Our duty as doctors is to prioritize care for our patients - but how can we do this under an unlawful, undemocratic, and oppressive military system?”, the BBC quoted one doctor saying. Scenes of physicians, nurses, teachers, and factory workers demonstrating in solidarity create hopeful images of what a post-war Myanmar could look like. Despite the peaceful nature of the protests, the junta responded with characteristic brutality. 

It is in this context that the EROs launched their armed resistance, termed Operation 1027. Their success fighting the Myanmar military is a testament to their ability to coordinate and work together—a positive sign for a future multiethnic polity in Myanmar. While it is true that some of the groups, particularly the Arakan Army, should be viewed skeptically with regards to their claims about protecting the rights of oppressed minorities like the Rohingya, others have demonstrated a real desire to create a more inclusive Myanmar. The core of this movement is the younger generation. Compared to their parents, they are less burdened by a blind reverence for the military and are under no illusions about the crimes that institution has committed. Describing the junta’s influence on the youth, one activist stated, “After the coup, they experienced how brutal the military regime is. We could see that their perspective and understanding about ethnic people has changed a lot. We have so much hope in this new generation. Unlike the old generation, they have open minds and find it easy to adapt to the situation. They even apologize regarding what happened to ethnic people and they speak out online.”

It is a testament to the possibilities EROs pose for a new Myanmar that the “R” in Ethnic Resistance Organization, alternatively, stands for Revolutionary. There is a creative process underway in the rebel held enclaves, where revolutionaries are experimenting with progressive new ideas like ethnic and gender equality. This is not to say that EROs have a perfect track record with regard to women’s rights. Advocates within the resistance recognize that “gender equality has not been prioritized in the struggle for peace, freedom, and democracy.” But women have played a leading role on the ground since the start of the conflict, and groups working closely with EROs are organizing hard to remind their comrades that “gender equality is an essential building block in dismantling patriarchal structures, such as those that characterize the Myanmar military.” In an encouraging sign of solidarity, May Oo Mutraw, advisor to the Karen National Union ERO, draws parallels between the struggles for gender and ethnic minority rights, explaining that “Myanmar’s struggles from the country’s variously oppressed ethnic, religious and woman communities underscores [sic] how the multi-layered oppression and various types of discrimination, exclusion and destruction (in the case of the Rohingya) interface.” 

The grass roots radicalism of EROs is not new. Neither, incidentally, is their fight with the Myanmar government, as many of them have been in some form of rebellion against the centralized, Bamar-dominated state for generations. Pushed to the periphery of Myanmar society, both literally and figuratively, they have been forced to develop hyper localized social services and political structures. For example, affiliated organizations have robust education programs with schools serving tens of thousands of students across regions controlled by EROs. There is a concerted effort amongst many of these groups to practice “mother-tongue-based education,” which aims to keep native language traditions alive. In some areas, complex justice systems have been developed utilizing informal dispute mechanisms, creating an intriguing area of study for legal scholars. There are also efforts to protect rural Myanmar’s lush biodiversity in ERO-controlled areas by organizations such as the Kawthoolei Forest Department (KFD). As a physician, I have found most impressive the ability of many EROs to provide medical care under extremely difficult circumstances. This is done through parallel organizations referred to as Ethnic Health Organizations (EHOs). EHOs like the Karen Department of Health and Welfare or the Mon National Health Committee run dozens of highly functioning clinics in their respective ERO-controlled territories. I have had the pleasure of collaborating with researchers and physicians affiliated with these groups and can attest to their commitment and skill in managing the health needs of their communities. 

My aim here is not to overly romanticize the EROs, which are by no means perfect organizations or a panacea for what ails Myanmar and the Rohingya. But they represent hope and a faint outline of a radically more inclusive and liberated future for Myanmar. And this hope does not rest solely with these disparate groups of revolutionaries waging a rebellion in the jungle. After the coup, activists and democratically inclined politicians, many of whom had won parliamentary elections but were ousted after the junta’s power grab, formed a new government in exile—the National Unity Government (NUG). While the NUG does include several members of Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy, whose cowardice in the face of the 2017 Rohingya genocide will forever be a black stain, there is room for optimism. The NUG has officially recognized the atrocities of the Rohingya, a major step celebrated by human rights activists, and called on them to join in their project. This is not just rhetoric. The NUG includes a prominent Rohingya member, Aung Kyaw Moe, serving in a senior ministerial role. Even members of the Rohingya community have taken notice of the promising trend. 

The NUG actively supports Operation 1027 and shares with many EROs the vision of creating a federal democracy, which would allow for a degree of regional autonomy and self-determination that was impossible under the previous iterations of highly centralized governments. A core group of NUG members known as the Committee Representing the Pyidaungsu Hluttaw (CRPH) put pen to paper, outlining what a new government might look like. In collaboration with EROs and other civil society groups, they created a Federal Democracy Charter, which serves as a political framework for federalism in Myanmar. Importantly, the document provides a guarantee of citizenship and strong protections for the civil rights of minorities such as the Rohingya. It states, “All the ethnic nationalities born in the Union shall have full rights to individual rights entitled as an individual person and ethnic nationalities shall have full rights to collective rights entitled as ethnic groups.” It also states, “direct, indirect or any forms of discrimination based on sex and gender shall be absolutely prohibited.” 

Meanwhile, the junta’s brutality has become impossible for the international community to ignore. A report written by the Special Rapporteur for human rights in Myanmar meticulously detailed the international arms networks that supply the regime with weapons. This led Singapore, which was identified as one of the junta’s major weapons sources, to crack down on arms suppliers operating in its territory. This is a positive development, but more pressure is needed to force the junta’s other major weapons contributors—Russia, China, India, and Thailand—to do the same. As the report suggests, the United Nations Security Council should debate and vote on resolutions that would explicitly prohibit the “supply of weapons, ammunition, military vehicles and equipment, dual-use goods, and jet fuel, as well as financial and technical military assistance” to the junta. While China or Russia would likely use their veto power to roadblock such efforts, forcing the debate would have the benefit of drawing the world’s attention to their support for the despotic regime. After all, the embarrassment of having to continually defend a similarly inexcusable position (opposition to a ceasefire in Gaza) has recently worn on another permanent member of the Security Council (the U.S.). Additionally, wealthy countries in Europe and the U.S. should step up funding for the 18.6 million people (about one-third of the population) in Myanmar that are in need of humanitarian assistance. Without a dramatic increase in investment, we risk a repeat of last year, when only 29 percent of the funds required to deliver adequate aid were received.   

But further isolating the junta and hampering their ability to wage war on the Myanmar population is only half the battle. Those of us concerned with peace and justice for the Rohingya should continue to push for accountability with regards to the 2017 genocide. Gambia’s case against Myanmar at the International Court of Justice (ICJ) has potential to do just that. What’s even more encouraging is that five European countries and Canada have joined the Gambian case. We should push all government signatories to the 1948 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, including the U.S., to do the same. Leftist organizations should partner with groups like the Free Rohingya Coalition, which seeks to “coordinate various initiatives such as grassroots boycotts, economic and diplomatic sanctions, and other solidarity actions” in support of moving toward a “protected homeland” for the Rohingya. We should support organizations like Forces of Renewal for Southeast Asia, which provides an intellectual space for discussing issues such as the democratic possibilities for a future for Myanmar. Here in the U.S., we could draw inspiration from other movements like the revolution in Rojava and build organizations in the mold of the Emergency Committee for Rojava that focus on dialogue with EROs and the NUG. We should support and bring visibility to leaders like Maung Zarni, recently nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize, who has long advocated for justice for the Rohingya. 

The military junta has recently suffered resounding defeats on the battlefield, and many experts believe the ultimate collapse of the regime is a real possibility. If that happens, and the NUG and EROs implement their vision of federal democracy, the Rohingya could have a viable home to return to. It could put a stop to the decades of persecution in Rakhine and bring their purgatory in Bangladesh to an end.  

When I was working in the Rohingya refugee camp in Bangladesh, I had the opportunity to visit a community center where Rohingya are struggling to keep their vibrant culture alive. I was nearly brought to tears watching an old man play a guitar-like instrument while children, many of whom were born in the camp and have never left, gathered around and sang songs in the Rohingya language. I could not help but think that scenes like this are at risk of becoming nothing but an antiquated memory and that these children might never know life outside of the barbed wire fence. Much like their Palestinian counterparts in Gaza, the Rohingya must be given the chance to return to their homeland, free from the threat of violence and persecution, or they could be lost forever.