Myanmar and Bangladesh have agreed to
repatriate the 650,000 refugees who have fled violence in Rakhine state within
two years. Many are concerned – and rightly so
The Guardian Editorial
The 650,000 Rohingya Muslim refugees who have
fled what the UN human rights chief has called “a textbook case of ethnic
cleansing” must have the right to return to their homes in northern Rakhine
state, Myanmar. To say otherwise would be to concede to those who forced them
out – the security forces and militias who have raped and beaten civilians,
burned houses and killed even infants. Authorities say the campaign is directed
against militants who attacked police, but the civilian toll speaks for itself.
Despite this, some of the Rohingya now living in wretched conditions across the
border in Bangladesh have said they wish to go back.
It is equally clear that refugees must not be
forced to return. Many more of them, according to NGOs supporting them, are
determined never to go back or are terrified of doing so without guarantees of
their security, property, livelihoods and freedom of movement. Some were
persuaded to return after escaping previous waves of violence, only to find
their lives in peril again. Previous episodes of displacement and return “do
not inspire confidence”, the House of Commons international development
committee has warned, noting the failure to consult refugees and expressing its
grave concerns about plans to send them back.
Just over a month ago, Bangladesh and Myanmar
announced an agreement to begin repatriation next week. Human Rights Watch
called that an impossible timetable for safe and voluntary returns. Now the
governments say that the process will be completed in two years. Bangladesh
officials say they have already picked 100,000 people, selecting them at
random, and say they will be asked their wishes once vetted and approved by
Myanmar.
Worse still, Myanmar has said it plans to
house 30,000 in a “transition camp”. Consider its record. Around 120,000
Rohingya who returned after violence in 2012 are held in internment camps in
central Rakhine state, with another 200,000 in villages with similar
restrictions on their movements.
“Parts of the camps are literally cesspools,”
Unicef’s spokesperson Marixie Mercado reported last week. She noted that
restrictions have got even tighter since 2016, making it still harder to
deliver aid and worsening conditions. Education and healthcare are desperately
deficient, but accessing services outside is often impossible. Inhabitants must
pay for a permit even if they are leaving for medical treatment, and need a
doctor’s certificate.
It is not surprising that Bangladesh, with
its constrained resources, should be anxious for the Rohingya to leave. A
funding conference in October won pledges of around £266m; Bangladesh estimates
that the cost of even basic services for the displaced could be more than £1bn
a year. International donors should step up. But when they do so, they should
press the two governments to not just delay but scrap this agreement, and to
include the UN high commission for refugees in their new discussions.
Meanwhile, they should continue to press for
accountability for those involved in atrocities – who otherwise have every
reason to believe they can repeat them with impunity. They should demand the
release of the Reuters journalists charged under the official secrets act after
investigating the crisis. Ultimately, the Rohingya – still dismissed as illegal
“Bengali” immigrants – need a proper path to citizenship, but that is a more
distant aspiration. The haste to repatriate the refugees is disturbing. But the
real problem is not the timeline but the deal itself, and the assumptions and
attitudes underlying it.
