Who are the Rohingya?

By AUNG TIN

Burma’s frontier areas are home to many ethnic groups that have historically existed on both sides of the country’s borders with its neighbors. Most are recognized as citizens of the countries where they reside; even military-ruled Burma is willing to accept that many non-Burman minorities have a right to call the country their home.

There are, of course, some notable exceptions. For instance, the Pashu, descendents of Muslim Malays living in Tenasserim Division, in Burma’s far south, are not regarded by the current regime as Burmese citizens, even though they were designated by the country’s post-independence government as one of Burma’s 143 ethnic groups.

Likewise, the Kaman, descendants of 17th-century Muslim mercenaries living on Ramree Island in Arakan State, have been denied the rights of citizenship since the beginning of Burma’s socialist era in 1962. To this day, they are not issued national identity cards or permitted to travel freely to other parts of the country, even when they are in need of emergency medical treatment.

By contrast, the Kokang, an ethnic Han Chinese group who have lived in Shan State since the 18th century, occupy their own “Special Region” and enjoy official status as a recognized ethnic group under the ruling junta, despite their obviously foreign origins.

What are we to make of these disparities? Are we to conclude that the Pashu and the Kaman have no place in Burmese society because of their religion, whereas the non-Muslim Kokang are perfectly acceptable members of a multiethnic Burma?

As a Burmese Muslim, this is more than an academic question for me. But rather than personalize this issue, I would like to examine it objectively, and consider how it applies to the plight of the Rohingya, a group that has become one of the most reviled in Burma.

Before we address the question of whether the Rohingya are truly Burmese or not, perhaps I should first ask if, in the eyes of my readers, they are even human. I would hope that most agree with me that they are, indeed, human beings who deserve to be treated as such. But there are some who seem to disagree. The authors of a well-known anti-Rohingya book, “Influx Virus,” for instance, liken these people to a disease that is infecting Burma. Such extreme views are not, alas, uncommon among those who would deny the Rohingya their basic human rights.

Another issue that has generated much unnecessary controversy is the word “Rohingya” itself. There are many who question the right of the Rohingya to identify themselves as such, preferring to refer to them as Chittagonians, Bengalis or even kala, a derogatory term for people of South Asian origin. But putting aside the question of their status in Burma, shouldn’t we at least be willing to call the Rohingya by the name they have chosen for themselves, just as we do with other peoples around the world?

When we consider the status of the Rohingya in Burma today, it is worth noting that this question is more controversial now than it was six decades ago, when the country first regained its independence.

At that time, a number of Rohingya were democratically elected to Burma’s post-colonial parliament and many held high-level government positions. Sao Shwe Thike, the first president of independent Burma, said that if the Muslims of Arakan State could not be considered a distinct ethnic group, then neither could his own Shan people.

School textbooks matter-of-factly identified the Rohingya as one of the nation’s 143 ethnic groups. And from 1961 to 1965, the Burmese Broadcasting Service even had a Rohingya-language program.

But this state of affairs began to change under the rule of Gen Ne Win, who seized power in a military coup in 1962. It was argued that the Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League, the main ruling party during the era of Burma’s parliamentary democracy, recognized the Rohingya as an ethnic group merely in order to get their votes. The Rohingya came to be regarded as economic migrants from Bangladesh; if they were allowed to settle in Arakan State, alarmists asserted, it would only open the floodgates and soon all of Burma would be overwhelmed.

Another consideration for the increasingly xenophobic regime in Rangoon was the rapidly expanding populations of neighboring India and China. This made it imperative to ensure that ethnic groups in borders areas, particularly the Rohingya and the Kokang, were securely under the government’s control. In the case of the Rohingya, suspicions that some harbored an extreme Islamicist agenda made them especially susceptible to pressure from the country’s security apparatus.

Whatever the arguments against recognizing the Rohingya as Burmese citizens, it is clear that the government’s policies towards them are fraught with contradictions. Although the regime that currently rules Burma categorically denies that the Rohingya are a Burmese ethnic group, it is often obliged to accept Rohingya migrants who have been deported by neighboring countries. If they did not originally come from Burma, why would the junta allow them to be sent back there?

We might also ask why the regime persists in persecuting the Rohingya and pushing them out of Burma if they are just going to keep taking them back. The answer to this question is twofold.

The first reason for the junta’s seemingly erratic Rohingya policy is that it fits with the regime’s modus operandi throughout the country. That is, it actively seeks to stir up instability in order to justify its iron-fisted rule. Mass migrations under duress create the perfect conditions for a regime that knows its survival depends on keeping the general population in a constant state of anxiety.

The second reason for targeting the Rohingya is more specific to conditions in Arakan State. The Arakanese people are among the most nationalistic in Burma. Although they are closely related to the dominant ethnic Burmans, history and geography have given them a distinct identity. They have no love for the country’s rulers in central Burma, and are often at the forefront of anti-government movements.

At the same time, however, the predominantly Buddhist Arakanese are fiercely proud of their culture and extremely resistant to what they see as incursions by Muslims from neighboring Bangladesh. In fact, their fear of an Islamic invasion surpasses their loathing for the Burmese regime—a fact that the junta is more than happy to exploit.

Such attitudes towards the Rohingya present a significant challenge for Burma’s future, since even in the event of a transition to democracy, tensions are likely to persist.

Everyone who believes that democracy, respect for fundamental human rights and ethnic equality are the foundations for a more stable and prosperous Burma must ask where the Rohingya are supposed to fit into this equation. But sadly, many act as if the best way to deal with the “Rohingya problem” is to let the ruling generals “solve” it in their usual, brutal fashion, so that future generations won’t have to worry about it.

In a recent interview, one Rohingya who survived a terrifying ordeal at sea while attempting to flee the country said, “I can no longer live in Burma. Every day the government gives us trouble. I left there, thinking that it would be better if I died at sea.”

But no matter how many are driven to such desperate conclusions, the Rohingya aren’t simply going to disappear. For the sake of Burma’s future, it would be better to learn to live with them in peace. And the best way to do that is to start treating them with decency and compassion now.

Aung Tin is a Vancouver, Canada-based Burmese activist. This commentary was translated from Burmese.