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An aerial view shows Rohingyas’Ìý Balukhali camp in Ukhiya, Cox’s Bazar, on August 26. | Agence France-Prese/Piyas Biswas

WHEN the chief adviser to the interim government Muhammad Yunus has presented his seven-point road map for the Rohingya repatriation in Cox’s Bazar, the stage was set for optimism. In the presence of diplomats and aid officials, Yunus has called for what seemed self-evident: a safe, dignified, voluntary and sustainable return of more than 1.3 million Rohingyas to their homeland Myanmar. He has urged donors not to abandon Bangladesh, pressed ASEAN to intensify engagement and reminded the world that the crisis began in Myanmar and it must be resolved there.

It looks like a plan on paper. It is, in reality, an expression of disappointment: a reminder that Bangladesh has carried the weight of this crisis for long eight years while the world has applauded its generosity but done little to shift the hard politics that make return impossible. Because, the seven points cannot solve a crisis built on the ruins of genocide, entrenched statelessness and a battlefield where Myanmar’s junta no longer rules.


Since the exodus of August 2017, every proposal for the Rohingya repatriation has hinged on a deceptively simple idea: creating ‘conducive conditions’ in Rakhine State and the refugees will go back home. This was the basis of the 2018 repatriation agreement between Dhaka and Naypyidaw, the six lists Bangladesh submitted between 2018 and 2020 and the small-scale ‘pilot project’ floated in 2023 to return 1,100 Rohingyas.

None of the initiatives moved forward. No refugee went back. The reason is straightforward: Myanmar still refuses to recognise the Rohingyas as citizens. To the generals in Naypyidaw, they remain ‘Bengalis’ — foreigners without rights. For the Rohingyas, memories of burnt villages, mass rape and killing are too fresh. Going back without citizenship and guarantees of safety would mean returning to the jaws of the same machinery that expelled them. Yunus’s seven points speak of ‘dignity’ and ‘voluntariness.’ But the words ring hollow in a context where dignity has no legal anchor and voluntariness cannot exist without trust. The gap between aspiration and reality is as wide as the River Naf that the Rohingyas once crossed in desperation.

The tragedy is compounded by geography. The Myanmar junta, the very entity that Yunus expects to sign off on returns, no longer controls most of the Rakhine state. The ethnic Rakhine insurgent group Arakan Army has waged one of the most successful offensives in Myanmar’s civil war. By early 2025, the Arakan Army seized control of 14 out of 17 townships, including vast swathes of territory along the Bangladesh border.

The junta still clings to Sittwe, the state’s capital, and Kyaukphyu, the jewel of Chinese investment. But the Arakan Army’s dominance is undeniable. And, here lies the paradox: while the Arakan Army frames itself as a liberation force, its relationship with the Rohingyas has historically been fraught. Reports suggest that the junta has at times armed or manipulated the Rohingyas as proxy fighters against the Arakan Army, further deepening mistrust.

So, even if the junta were willing to sign another repatriation deal, it lacks the capacity to guarantee security in most of Rakhine. And the Arakan Army, the real power on the ground, has no established framework for protecting the Rohingyas. This is the first hard truth that Yunus’s plan avoids: without the Arakan Army’s buy-in, repatriation is a fantasy.

If this were just about refugees and insurgents, solutions might be difficult but not impossible. But Rakhine is also the site of two mega-infrastructure projects that tie the crisis to regional geopolitics.

China’s Belt and Road corridor: The deep-sea port at Kyaukphyu is a strategic linchpin. It connects to oil and gas pipelines that run directly into Yunnan province, giving Beijing a coveted ‘Malacca bypass’ that avoids the congested Strait of Malacca. Billions of dollars are already sunken into this project. China cannot afford to see it collapse, whether under the junta or the Arakan Army rule.

India’s Kaladan project: The Sittwe port and River Kaladan corridor connect Kolkata to India’s landlocked northeast. For Delhi, the project is not just about trade. It is about national integration, Indo-Pacific strategy and escaping dependence on the narrow Siliguri Corridor. Instability in Rakhine jeopardises this lifeline.

This is why neither Beijing nor Delhi will let humanitarian concern dictate policy. Their priority is uninterrupted access, not refugee rights. If the Arakan Army consolidates control, they will negotiate directly with insurgents. If the junta survives, they will tolerate its brutality as the price of stability. In both cases, the Rohingyas are invisible to the calculus.

The United States, too, frames Myanmar less through a humanitarian lens than through the prism of geostrategic rivalry. The Burma Act 2022 sanctions the junta and its business networks, restricts US investments, and seeks to punish rights abusers. It is symbolically powerful but practically blunt. It cannot pressure the Arakan Army. It cannot create safe zones. And, it does not incentivise any local actor to make conditions conducive for return.

Washington’s priority is to counter China in the Bay of Bengal, not to engineer repatriation. In this chessboard, the Rohingya are pawns, protected rhetorically and abandoned strategically.

For Bangladesh, the crisis is existential. The country hosts more than 1.3 million Rohingyas, mostly in Cox’s Bazar and on the remote island of Bhasan Char. Every year, about 32,000 children are born in the camps. Aid flows are shrinking, schools are closing and opportunities for livelihoods are virtually nonexistent.

The camps are becoming pressure cookers: crime, trafficking and radicalisation fester in overcrowded conditions. For local Bangladeshis, the strain is visible: competition for resources, rising tension and fears of permanent demographic change.

Yunus’s seven points ask for ‘continued donor support.’ But donors are fatigued, crises elsewhere compete for attention and aid budgets are declining. Bangladesh is being left alone to manage what is fast becoming a permanent refugee population.

The Yunus plan is notable not for what it says but for what it omits.

Citizenship guarantees: Without legal recognition, any return will be temporary and reversible. Yet, the plan avoids confronting Myanmar’s refusal to accept Rohingyas as citizens.

Arakan Army engagement: The Arakan Army is the de facto ruler of Rakhine. Ignoring it makes any road map irrelevant.

Conditions for China and India: Unless infrastructure access is explicitly tied to protections for civilians, both powers will continue to prioritise ports and pipelines over people.

Burden-sharing: Bangladesh cannot host indefinitely without a multiyear global compact. The plan gestures at support but offers no mechanism.

This is why critics call it seven slogans rather than seven solutions.

What would a serious approach look like? Not a magic wand, but a hard-headed strategy that aligns humanitarian goals with geopolitical realities.

Direct Arakan Army engagement: International actors must establish channels with the Arakan Army to codify protections for minorities, monitored by third parties.

Rights infrastructure: China and India must be made to accept that uninterrupted access to Kyaukphyu and Kaladan depends on non-discrimination and humanitarian corridors.

Sanctions reclabiration: Washington should combine pressure on the junta with conditional incentives for any local authority that guarantees civilian safety.

Investment in camps: Education, skills training and limited work permits in Bangladesh are essential to prevent a lost generation.

Oversight on returns: Small-scale, reversible projects could test mechanisms for documentation, land rights and safety — with ‘stop triggers’ if abuses recur.

This is not idealism. It is damage control — a way to prevent the crisis from calcifying into permanence.

Eight years after the 2017 genocide, the Rohingya crisis is at a breaking point. Bangladesh is running out of space, patience and resources. The junta is weakened, the Arakan Army is rising and China and India are calculating their interests. The United States has turned the crisis into a sanctions issue, not a refugee one.

In this maze of war and geopolitics, Yunus’s seven points are not wrong, but they are woefully insufficient. Without confronting the Arakan Army, the infrastructure stakes of China and India and the limits of US sanctions, the plan is destined to remain what so many Rohingya promises have been: words on paper.

The world must decide. Will it continue applauding Bangladesh’s generosity while doing nothing to resolve the crisis? Or will it finally accept that the Rohingya repatriation is not a humanitarian checklist but a geopolitical minefield — one that requires hard bargains, uncomfortable negotiations and a recognition that compassion alone cannot rewrite the map of Rakhine?

Until then, the seven points will remain what they are: a reminder of hope in a place where hope has been exiled.

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Dr. Rakib Al Hasan is a physician, writer, activist and international award-winning youth leader of Bangladesh. He is founder and executive director of the Centre for Partnership Initiative.