Guest contributor
Shafiur Rahman
On March 17, the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army (ARSA) leader Ataullah Jununi was arrested in Narayanganj outside the Bangladesh capital Dhaka.
Fortify Rights launched its report “I May Be Killed Any Moment” the very next day, March 18, in Dhaka. Remarkably, its event took place less than 13 km from the flat where Jununi was detained, an eerie proximity that raises questions about timing and intent.
This coincidence calls for examining not just the report’s content but also the broader context in which it was unveiled.
In its report, Fortify Rights provides a harrowing look at the violence and criminality that Rohingya face in the Bangladesh refugee camps.
The report documents a series of brutal incidents – kidnappings, murders, abductions, torture, and forced recruitment – perpetrated by armed groups such as ARSA and the Rohingya Solidarity Organisation (RSO).
For those unfamiliar with the Rohingya crisis, these revelations slap the reader in the face: Rohingya refugees are caught in a relentless cycle of violence perpetrated by armed groups that operate with near-total impunity.
The report makes an urgent case for improved protection mechanisms. It exposes the abject failure of Bangladesh state authorities to intervene meaningfully. Its detailed testimonies make clear that this is not incidental violence, but a reflection of deep structural issues that sustain an atmosphere of fear and lawlessness.
This is a crucial moment to revisit the dominant framing of Bangladesh as a compassionate humanitarian actor. Fortify Rights’ findings disrupt that narrative. The state’s refusal to grant rights, provide security, or dismantle the violent ecosystem inside the camps cannot be chalked up to mere capacity limits – it is a political choice.
Additionally, one of the most valuable contributions of the report is how it sheds light on the systemic failures of the United Nations (U.N.) in responding to the Rohingya crisis.
Like in Myanmar before 2017, the U.N. is again criticised for being too cautious, too deferential to the host state, and too focused on access over advocacy. What emerges is a system of management – not protection – where Rohingya lives are corralled, surveilled, and ultimately expendable.
I made a quick comparison with an eight-year-old report by Fieldview on the U.N. response in Myanmar. It revealed strikingly similar patterns of institutional weakness. In Myanmar, the U.N. deference to the state’s policies resulted in complicity, with the agency managing detention camps for internally displaced Rohingya while downplaying the state’s atrocities.
In Bangladesh, Fortify Rights exposes a parallel pattern: the U.N. reluctance to confront state abuses, particularly the failure to protect refugees from armed group violence, forced encampment, and systematic movement restrictions.
What emerges is a familiar tension: the U.N. desire to maintain operational presence at the expense of standing up for fundamental rights.
In both Myanmar and Bangladesh, this translates into an unwillingness to publicly confront state authorities, for fear of losing access or funding.
This institutional caution extends to terminology itself. In Myanmar, the U.N. largely stopped using the name “Rohingya” to appease the government, effectively endorsing the erasure of the group’s identity.
While Fortify Rights does not focus on language in Bangladesh, the report does emphasise how refugees remain stuck in a legal black hole, denied formal refugee status and the protections that come with it.
Another troubling parallel is the U.N. failure to fully report or act on violence. In Myanmar, the agency had the best on-the-ground intelligence on systematic atrocities but failed to publicise the scale of the crisis.
In Bangladesh, Fortify Rights shows how intra-camp violence – killings, abductions, extortion – remains underreported. It reinforces a narrative of limited accountability.
The U.N. tendency to accept temporary solutions as permanent is also striking: just as Myanmar’s “temporary” displacement camps became permanent segregation tools, Bangladesh’s “temporary” emergency settlements, surrounded by barbed wire fences, are calcifying into a long-term reality with no clear pathway to rights, mobility, or citizenship for the Rohingya
Yet, for all its strengths, the report has notable weaknesses. One of the most striking is its narrow framing. Despite producing detailed and necessary documentation of violent abuses, the Fortify Rights report falls short in its call for transformative action.
It meticulously records the brutalities committed by militant groups, yet it does not push hard enough for a rethinking of the entire humanitarian aid model in the camps.
The report offers strong recommendations on legal recognition, resettlement, and accountability, but it is less forceful when it comes to economic inclusion and alternative security models – areas that are essential to dismantling the conditions that allow militancy to flourish.
By concentrating on militant violence without equally addressing the structural injustices that underpin it, the report risks being co-opted to justify further state crackdowns and repressive policies.
For advocates and policymakers, the report should serve as a wake-up call. The Rohingya crisis cannot be resolved by merely documenting violence; it requires a comprehensive, rights-based approach that tackles both the immediate security threats and the underlying causes of vulnerability.
This means pushing for legal recognition and work rights for refugees, creating avenues for economic opportunity, and fostering community-led security initiatives that empower Rohingya voices rather than silencing them.
Instead of treating them as passive recipients of humanitarian relief, such an approach recognises them as workers, community members, and political actors with the right to shape their own futures.
Equally, it means holding the Bangladesh government accountable for policies that have not only failed to protect refugees but have, in many instances, exacerbated their suffering by permitting armed groups to operate with near impunity.
Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of the report is its treatment of a Rohingya negotiator with alleged ties to Myanmar’s military junta. The report neutrally references a meeting held on November 15, 2024, where this negotiator called for peace among the armed groups.
Strangely, however, it offers no further detail on this individual’s background, nor does it mention his involvement in other significant events.
For instance, on December 25, 2024, a large rally in Kutupalong Camp 1W was held where representatives of ARSA, RSO, the Arakan Rohingya Army (ARA), and Rohingya Islami Mahaz (RIM), not only expressed gratitude to Bangladeshi authorities for facilitating the event but also engaged in fiery rhetoric – inciting violence against the Arakan Army (AA), calling them “kafirs,” and invoking jihad.
Dil Muhammad’s role was central: as the unnamed “negotiator” in Fortify Rights’ report, he presided over the meeting.
Even more alarming, on January 20, 2025, a meeting led by Dil Muhammad disclosed plans to establish committees across all camps, with families to be coerced into surrendering one male member for military training under threat of losing food rations.
That the report highlights the November 15 meeting as a call for peace, yet omits these later, more militant gatherings – all of which took place under the current interim government – is telling.
Was this omission made out of deference to the current Bangladeshi administration? The report’s launch in Dhaka, moderated by someone now anointed by Chief Advisor Muhammad Yunus as “the real Rohingya expert,” suggests there may have been a conscious effort to play down details that could point to ongoing state complicity. These missing pieces hint at a possible alignment, intentional or not, with the government’s securitisation agenda.
Notably, Fortify Rights steps outside its stated timeframe to include a peace-themed meeting under the interim government – while sidestepping more troubling events from that same period.
That silence is not merely about placating today’s administration – it may also be instrumental in advancing broader policy goals, most notably the repatriation of Rohingya refugees, which remains the cornerstone of Bangladesh’s securitisation strategy.
Instead of working to create the conditions necessary for safe, voluntary, and dignified returns, Bangladesh’s focus appears to be on manufacturing the optics of consensus and speeding up expulsion.
And here too beyond that ”negotiator” label, Dil Muhammad has played an insidious role in building momentum for state-backed repatriation narratives.
In September 2024, he appeared on stage at an Arakan Youth Movement rally – an event initiated by concerned Rohingya youth to call attention to repatriation challenges.
Yet his presence was not the result of grassroots invitation; rather, he was injected into the proceedings by Bangladeshi intelligence, transforming what had been a genuine expression of community concern into a platform for state-engineered messaging.
The timing of the report’s release, following ARSA chief Ataullah’s arrest, bolsters a narrative that links security concerns with the need for rapid returns.
News coverage of Ataullah’s alleged crimes conveniently paves the way for calls to tighten control over the camps before more “undesirables” emerge. Notably, the report does not address ARSA’s historical connections to Bangladeshi authorities, an omission all the more striking given how freely this group has operated.
Equally concerning is its failure to examine current relationships between armed groups and the interim government – a significant analytical and political blind spot, especially given that many of the same patterns of complicity appear to persist.
Fortify Rights frames the report as a briefing document for the transitional government and notes that it requested a meeting with Chief Advisor Muhammad Yunus in February 2025. But while this framing may explain the decision to concentrate on the Hasina era, it does not justify the absence of scrutiny on ongoing dynamics.
The report’s table of contents makes clear from the outset that its gaze is fixed on the past. Yet without acknowledging how state-armed group relationships may have evolved, or even intensified, under the new administration, the report risks offering a picture of impunity that is frozen in time, rather than one that meets the urgent realities of 2025.
Meanwhile, Dhaka openly admits it is talking with the Arakan Army, implying that occasional sabre-rattling in the camps is part of a broader strategy. Events like the December 25 rally not only stoked anti-AA sentiment but also showed Bangladesh’s ability to control armed groups.
This in turn, highlights an unspoken incentive for the AA to negotiate rather than risk further unrest.
In fairness, “I May Be Killed Any Moment” does not completely ignore state complicity. Fortify Rights clearly documents the Bangladeshi authorities’ failure to protect refugees and the impunity these armed groups enjoy.
Yet by not fully situating these abuses within a broader pattern of deliberate state strategy, especially Bangladesh’s forced repatriation pushes in the past and its ever-expanding “security” apparatus, the report risks being harnessed to justify crackdowns rather than urging deeper structural reforms.
It’s not that the authors deny government involvement; rather, they treat it more as a symptom of inaction than an entrenched political agenda.
If we truly aim to end the Rohingya’s perpetual state of danger, then challenging the political scaffolding enabling that violence matters just as much as exposing ARSA or RSO atrocities.
We must confront how Bangladesh’s policies – facilitating armed groups at certain junctures, restricting refugees’ freedom of movement, and pushing for expedited returns – keep the camps volatile.
Only by challenging these structural conditions, from forced encampment to manipulative intelligence operations, can we offer refugees more than mere survival.
Ultimately, only a rights-based approach that tackles the roots of both militant and state-perpetuated injustice can ensure refugees aren’t condemned to perpetual crisis.
Shafiur Rahman is a journalist and documentary maker. He writes the Rohingya Refugee News newsletter
DVB publishes a diversity of opinions that does not reflect DVB editorial policy. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our stories: [email protected]
