In the complex humanitarian landscape of Southeast Asia, the Rohingya people remain one of the most underrepresented and stateless populations in the world. While international actors and humanitarian organizations have long spoken on their behalf, a growing call within the community urges the formation of an independent Rohingya political party—one that could genuinely represent their voice, assert their rights, and potentially shift the trajectory of their future.

For decades, the Rohingya—an ethnic Muslim minority from Myanmar’s Rakhine State—have faced systemic discrimination, disenfranchisement, and waves of brutal military crackdowns. The situation escalated in 2017, when hundreds of thousands fled to neighboring Bangladesh, settling in refugee camps like Cox’s Bazar, now one of the world’s largest refugee settlements.

In Bangladesh, the conditions have remained far from dignified. Living in overcrowded, makeshift shelters, with limited access to education, employment, or mobility, the Rohingya are trapped in a state of limbo. Their political invisibility adds to the marginalization. While some community members act as camp leaders or liaison figures, most of their public representation still comes from NGOs, international bodies, or governments with their own agendas. This absence of an autonomous political structure has diluted the Rohingya’s agency in matters that directly affect them.

Historically, Myanmar’s successive military governments have denied the Rohingya citizenship, restricted their movement, and excluded them from political participation. The 1982 Citizenship Law officially rendered them stateless. Before that, some Rohingya leaders did hold parliamentary seats in post-independence Burma during the 1950s and 1960s, but those gains were gradually erased during decades of authoritarian rule. That erasure continues today—not only in Myanmar but also in the global stage where Rohingya concerns are often voiced through proxies.

A group of around 250 Rohingya arriving in Indonesia’s Aceh province in November 2023
before being turned back to sea.

A structured political party could change this. By organizing around a formal political identity, the Rohingya could advocate more effectively for their rights, both within Myanmar and in exile. A party could push for international legal recognition, demand fair treatment in host countries, and negotiate repatriation terms with more legitimacy. Repatriation—a long-promised but repeatedly stalled goal—remains elusive in part because there is no direct political pressure from a unified Rohingya body that carries formal recognition or negotiating power.

Of course, building such a party faces immense hurdles: statelessness, displacement, security risks, and the political complexities of host and home countries alike. But there are precedents where marginalized refugee communities have formed political movements in exile to keep their struggle alive and shape international discourse.

For the Rohingya, the creation of an autonomous political party is not just a symbolic act—it is a practical necessity. Without a platform to speak for themselves, they will remain subjects of third-party narratives, their fate continually decided by others. For a community that has endured decades of erasure and exile, reclaiming political voice could be the first real step toward justice, dignity, and home.

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