¶¶Òõ¾«Æ·

THE world is going through a major crisis, with more than 120 million people forced to leave their homes because of war, violence, climate change and poverty. According to the UNHCR’s latest report, over 43 million of them are refugees who have crossed into other countries looking for safety and a better life. From Syria and Sudan to Venezuela and Myanmar, people are being displaced every day. With all of its own problems, Bangladesh is one of the world’s biggest refugee host countries, taking in about a million Rohingya refugees right now. This global and local situation shows the urgent need for international support and strong community-based protection efforts.

More than 700,000 Rohingyas entered Bangladesh in 2017, which took the Rohingya population in Bangladesh to close to a million. While much attention has been given to their needs and challenges, less is said about their strength, skills and the ways they support each other. This community has shown a quiet power — through cooperation, learning and engagement — that deserves recognition.

The living conditions in the Rohingya camps of Cox’s Bazar remain dire, severely overcrowded spaces with limited access to essential services. For children, this means growing up in an environment where basic rights to safety, education, play and health are constantly at risk. Their psychosocial development is shaped not only by stability and care, but also by daily uncertainty, restrictions and fearful feelings often absorbed from their parents, who themselves live with the trauma of displacement and the stress of an uncertain future. In emergencies, this becomes even more urgent. Bangladesh, while hosting the Rohingyas, has not granted them formal refugee status, limiting their legal rights, freedom of movement, and long-term protections. Because of this, these problems keep coming back. Lack of formal recognition and long-term displacement have slowly destroyed the safety nets and community structures that are used to help people deal, making it even harder for the most vulnerable to recover and bounce back. But how do we start to end this constant control, even after running away from the source of violence?

In a setting where families are fragmented, movements are limited, and formal justice systems are inaccessible, children and women bear the heaviest burden. Their suffering reflects a broader collapse in the community’s ability to protect its most vulnerable. Yet, despite these challenges, community-based efforts, when nurtured and empowered, can begin to restore safety and dignity, as suggested by David Forsythe and Roberta Cohen in their protection theory. The theory emphasises that protection must be reimagined beyond formal institutions in crises where state systems collapse or are inaccessible, such as justice, law enforcement and social services. Consistent with this theory, when communities are empowered and supported, they can become active agents of safety and dignity, rebuilding local networks of care and accountability in the face of systemic failure.

Over the past eight years of my involvement with various research projects, I have observed that the Rohingya people who remain stateless, displaced and marginalised, formal protection structures are limited, and many basic services operate under strain. Nonetheless, there have been instances where community-based mechanisms have emerged to fill these gaps. Examples include community health volunteers, informal dispute resolution through respected elders, and peer-led education or awareness campaigns on health, hygiene and safety.Ìý Additionally, through my research project on the process documentation of BRAC’s Humanitarian Play Lab, I have observed that Rohingyas in the camps persist in their voluntary efforts, despite the immense adversity they have faced. BRAC has meaningfully included children, their parents, community elders and religious leaders in the process. Initiated by BRAC’s Humanitarian Crisis Management Programme in collaboration with BRAC Institute of Educational Development, the Humanitarian Play Lab offers more than just a space for play — it serves as a bridge to healing, learning and a sense of belonging. Yet, its true strength lies not only within the colourful play spaces but in how it empowers the community itself to lead the process, fostering resilience, safety and care from within.

Through Humanitarian Play Labs, Rohingya women — trained as play leaders and mother volunteers who understand the children’s language, culture and fears — engage children and their mothers in culturally contextualised play-based learning designed to support social-emotional development, early childhood education and mental well-being. We witnessed that how an ordinary woman transformed trauma into resilience using simple tools — kissas (stories), kabbiyas (rhymes), songs, physical play, and compassion. By involving caregivers, fathers, community and religious leaders, in decision-making on centre design, decoration, curriculum development, creation of play materials, child protection and child development, daily management of the centres, the play lab becomes more than a safe space — it becomes a community-owned space of care where children and community heals their psychological wounds. During the Covid pandemic, community members actively raised their voices, urging that the play centres remain open for the well-being of their children. Although in-person sessions were not possible, the intervention was adapted into a telecommunication model. About 90 per cent of the beneficiaries remained connected through the play leaders and mother volunteers, demonstrating the community’s deep commitment to their children’s development, even in times of crisis.Ìý

Despite improved access to health care and education, the Rohingya community remains deeply rooted in its traditional cultural norms. One of the most notable changes has been the evolving role of women — particularly their increased mobility and participation in public spaces. These shifts represent a significant departure from customary practices, which have, at times, created discomfort within families. However, community leaders have played a supportive and encouraging role, often engaging with families and helping to motivate and involve women in such activities. Within this context, women’s involvement was more readily acceptable at the centre, as the space was designed to be gender-sensitive and culturally-appropriate. In the camps, where formal income-generating opportunities are scarce, women’s earnings and contributions to household needs have become increasingly valued. However, many women strongly believe that they could utilise this knowledge and continue to engage in similar activities when they return to Myanmar. It indicates that the community’s role is not as passive recipients of aid and support, but as active agents of change.

Every year on World Humanitarian Day, which was observed on August 19, we are reminded of the urgent need to support those forced to leave their homes in search of safety and dignity. In my experience, communities have the power to lead their own healing processes more effectively than any external actor when they are trusted, equipped with the right tools, and their voices are placed at the centre. It is time to shift our focus towards community-based models that prioritise meaningful engagement. These approaches are not only innovative, they underscore a deeper truth: real change happens when we work with communities, not merely on their behalf.

Ìý

Atiya Rahman is an assistant scientist at BRAC JPGSPH, BRAC University, working with the Humanitarian Hub on research for displaced and vulnerable communities.