When I last wrote in these pages about the Rohingya camp, the process had reached an important milestone. It was presented as a long-overdue step toward democratic participation -- the first time refugees would elect their own representatives. Now that the process has culminated in the formation of the United Council of Rohang (UCR), it is clear that what emerged is not self-representation. Instead, it is state-supervised choreography.
According to the Convening Committee’s own figures, just 3,693 voters were identified across 33 camps - roughly 0.3% of the population. From these, a Congress of 480-500 counsellors was selected, who then chose 28 executive members and five rotating presidents. In a population of more than 1.1 million, this means the new “leadership” represents 0.003% of those they claim to speak for. Even before questioning motive or method, those numbers alone should give pause.
The state’s role in shaping the exercise was never hidden. The Refugee Relief and Repatriation Commissioner (RRRC) approved the process, authorized the zones and categories, and positioned its officials as “observers.” But in a securitized environment where every meeting and movement depends on permission, an “observer” who licences the process is not neutral -- they are its architect. The Rohingya organizers who ran the polling did so under constant supervision.
That architecture became plain again during the final phase. Among refugees from Rathedaung Township, Mr Ahmed Hussain was selected by the election commission as one of eight executive members. On the eve of his oath-taking, the RRRC office reportedly ordered his removal and the inclusion of four others instead -- one already a sitting council member, in breach of the stated rules. The Rathedaung Society for Peace and Development lodged a formal complaint, calling it an “act of discrimination.” Their appeal for reinstatement was ignored.
A similar irregularity emerged in the Kutupalong Registered Camp (KRC), where no election was held at all, yet an individual named Abdul Hamid was suddenly drafted into the executive committee. According to local elders, even Hamid’s father was summoned by the KRC committee to explain how his son had been “helicoptered” into the post. The episode underlines how arbitrary appointments now substitute for even the pretence of voting, extending the pattern of intervention to the registered camps themselves.
This was not an isolated anomaly. Leaders in the registered camps of Nayapara and Kutupalong had already boycotted the vote, saying there had been no consultation and no clarity about purpose. In Bhashan Char also, no election took place. And during the subsequent Stakeholders’ Dialogue in August, at least two elected presidents -- Showife and Jahangir -- were barred at the last minute, prompting a statement from Rohingya Genocide Survivors Cox’s Bazar that the event had been captured by diaspora factions aligned with the Arakan Rohingya National Council (ARNC) and the Rohingya Consultative Council (RCC).
All this points to a consistent pattern -- opaque processes mandated from above, dressed in the language of participation. The structures may change their names, but the choreography of control remains.
The newly formed UCR describes itself as a “historic” civil-society body committed to unity, justice, and dignified return. Its leadership has already held meetings with Mukti, the ICRC, and Children on the Edge UK. Such encounters will likely be framed as evidence of “Rohingya-led engagement” and used to reassure donors that localization is taking root.
But localization, in this context, risks becoming the latest instrument of co-option. When civic space is absent and when refugees cannot organise freely, register associations, or speak without fear, the handover of programmes to “local actors” does not devolve power. It consolidates it in the hands of those already approved by the state. A handful of interlocutors can then be showcased as the “Rohingya voice,” giving Dhaka and its aligned Bangladeshi NGOs greater leverage over budgets, projects, and legitimacy.
This version of localization is window dressing. It is a bureaucratic performance of inclusion that leaves underlying hierarchies intact. The question it evades is political, not logistical -- who benefits from keeping the Rohingya exactly where they are and how they are?
Behind every new council or committee lies a familiar calculus. The Rohingya camps represent not only a humanitarian challenge but also an economy - of contracts, sub-grants, and security provisioning. A controlled representative body, however small, helps stabilise that economy. It provides the appearance of consent for policies designed elsewhere.
By producing a leadership structure that is visible to donors yet answerable to administrators, the RRRC and its partners have effectively created an interface: a “Rohingya-led” entity that is safe for engagement because it cannot act independently. It can meet visiting delegations, sign letters of cooperation, and attend conferences -- but it cannot question the system that governs the camps.
This is why the rhetoric of empowerment rings hollow. The true measure of representation is not whether refugees are filmed taking oaths but whether they can dissent, organise, and hold their leaders accountable. None of those conditions exist in Cox’s Bazar today.
Supporters of the process will argue that something is better than nothing and that imperfect structures can evolve. But history suggests otherwise. When power is granted as a favour, it rarely matures into autonomy. Unless Rohingya communities are allowed to form associations freely, elect leaders openly, and contest authority without reprisal, each new “election” will remain a curated performance designed for the next diplomatic stage rather than for the people on whose behalf it claims to speak.
The UCR may soon appear in donor briefings as a partner for “locally led solutions.” Yet genuine localizationwould begin by enabling civic space, not constraining it. It would ask who controls resources, not merely who distributes them. And it would confront the uncomfortable truth that the current system thrives on Rohingya exclusion. Until that changes, representation in the camps will remain what it has always been --disempowered.
Shafiur Rahman is a journalist and documentary filmmaker focusing on the politics of refugee management in South and Southeast Asia. He writes the Rohingya Refugee News newsletter.