By Francis Chan on June 21, 2026, Sunday

The images of desperate refugees crossing rivers, trudging through muddy fields and crowding into makeshift camps, have shocked the world. — Bernama photo

IN 2017, Sarawak dodged a bullet when the state government refused to accommodate Rohingya refugees from Myanmar.

At the time, Sarawak’s stance was heavily criticised by politicians and activists from Peninsular Malaysia.

The state government was accused of shirking its humanitarian responsibilities, and some critics even went so far as to describe the Premier and state leaders as insensitive and lacking compassion.

It was an unfair accusation as Sarawak had previously hosted two major groups of refugees.

The first were Vietnamese refugees who fled their homeland following the fall of South Vietnam in the 1970s; the second were Bosnian refugees who arrived during the conflicts that accompanied the breakup of Yugoslavia in the 1990s.

In both cases, the refugees were eventually resettled in third countries, or returned home once conditions in their countries had improved.

When Sarawak declined to receive Rohingya refugees, the state government recognised a hard reality: there was no clear or foreseeable solution to their displacement.

Unlike the Vietnamese and Bosnian refugees, the Rohingyas had no realistic prospect of returning home in the near future, and neither was there any significant international effort to permanently resettle them elsewhere.

Accepting them would, in all likelihood, mean accommodating them indefinitely.

In contrast, the first boatloads of Rohingya refugees landing in Peninsular Malaysia were welcomed by the federal government in 2017.

Some political leaders even floated the idea of granting them Malaysian citizenship in the name of humanity and compassion.

Over the years, however, as their numbers grew to several hundred thousand and concerns emerged over social, economic and security issues associated with the refugee population, public sentiment began to change.

The sympathy and goodwill that initially greeted their arrival gradually gave way to frustration and hostility among many Malaysians.

Today, with the Rohingya issue reaching a boiling point, Sarawakians are thankful that the state government stood firm in 2017.

Much has been written and posted on social media by angry Malaysians over the growing Rohingya population and the federal government’s inability either to resettle them in third countries or to repatriate them to Myanmar.

More than 350,000 Malaysians recently signed a petition calling for the refugees to be sent elsewhere.

Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim remarked in response to mounting public pressure on his Madani administration: “Send them away – to where?”

It was a question that has no answer.

One can sympathise with the present federal government as it inherits a problem that is of its own making, and is now burdened with the daunting and seemingly impossible task of managing a refugee crisis that has no easy solution.

The Rohingya issue is not merely a Malaysian problem, but a regional and international challenge, rooted in decades of persecution, statelessness and displacement.

Whether one agrees or disagrees with Sarawak’s decision in 2017, events over the past decade have demonstrated that the state government’s concerns were not without foundation.

What appeared then to be an unpopular and uncompromising position may, in hindsight, have been a pragmatic assessment of a humanitarian crisis for which neither Malaysia nor the international community has yet found a lasting solution.

The Rohingya refugee situation in Malaysia is a complex issue where humanitarian responsibility meets significant domestic resentment.

The core tension lies between the refugees’ desperate need for safety and the growing perception among some Malaysians that their prolonged, legally ambiguous presence is straining public resources and social harmony.

Malaysia is not a signatory to the 1951 Refugee Convention, meaning it does not legally recognise refugee status.

Refugees like the Rohingya – who number over 120,000 registered with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), making them the largest refugee group in the country – exist in a legal grey area.

There is no clear record of how many are not registered with UNHCR, with some estimated to be 100,000 to 150,000.

They have no formal right to work, access public education, or receive state healthcare, leaving them dependent on informal economies and non-governmental organisations (NGOs).

UNHCR is responsible for resettling refugees in third countries, but the resettlement rate is painfully slow.

This ‘imbalance’ has resulted in Malaysia having to contend with a large refugee population living within local communities for years or even decades, waiting for a future that may not come.

The government acknowledges the humanitarian aspect but also the strain on national resources.

Home Minister Datuk Seri Saifuddin Nasution Ismail had publicly stated the low resettlement rate as a key factor in the prolonged presence of the Rohingya.

However, he could not offer any clear solution to the problem aside from saying that the government was creating its own database on the refugees in the nation.

That announcement was greeted with more scorn and anger.

This policy vacuum has created a fertile ground for public frustration, which is often ignited by viral postings on social media.

A recent incident where the Rohingya community slaughtered 60 head of cattle for Hari Raya Aidiladha sparked an online backlash.

Critics questioned how impoverished refugees could afford such an expense, leading to accusations of them ‘burdening public resources’.

The lack of a coherent policy has led to the emergence of ‘Little Myanmars’ – insular, self-organised communities operating outside the Malaysian law.

This has fuelled perceptions of lawlessness and competition, with critics arguing that these enclaves represent a failure of governance.

For the Rohingya, the consequences of this resentment are severe and deeply personal.

They face discrimination in housing and employment, and many landlords and employers, fearing public backlash, refuse to rent to or hire them.

Young Rohingya are denied the right to work or pursue higher education.

They are trapped in a ‘neither-nor’ status – ‘not a student, not a citizen, not even a worker’.

Despite the narrative of being a burden, researchers and advocates point out that the Rohingya are already contributing to the economy, often in sectors with labour shortages, like restaurants and plantations.

They do so informally, without protection and often exploited.

The government has even initiated a pilot scheme to allow some to work legally in plantations and manufacturing to address labour gaps.

To resolve this, many analysts and advocates are calling for a shift from ad-hoc responses to a structured national framework for managing refugees by creating a legal pathway for refugees to work that would allow them to contribute to the economy openly, pay taxes, and reduce the negative perceptions associated with the shadow economy.

However, these ‘solutions’ fuelled even more public anger as many perceive allowing them to work legally would encourage them to remain permanently in Malaysia.

Understanding the Rohingya issue requires looking beyond present-day controversies to the historical tragedy that forced hundreds of thousands of people to flee their homeland in the first place.

The Rohingya are a predominantly Muslim ethnic minority from Myanmar’s Rakhine State, formerly known as Arakan.

For centuries, Muslims and Buddhists lived in the region, although their exact historical origins remain disputed and highly politicised.

The Rohingya regard themselves as indigenous inhabitants of the area, while many Myanmar nationalists view them as descendants of migrants who entered during British colonial rule.

Following Myanmar’s independence in 1948, the Rohingya’s status became increasingly precarious.

Successive governments gradually restricted their rights and questioned their legitimacy as citizens.

The situation worsened dramatically in 1982 when Myanmar enacted a citizenship law that effectively rendered most Rohingya stateless by excluding them from the country’s officially recognised ethnic groups.

Statelessness transformed the Rohingya into one of the most persecuted minorities in the world.

They faced severe restrictions on movement, education, employment, marriage and access to healthcare.

Many lived under conditions that international human rights organisations described as systematic discrimination and apartheid-like policies.

Violence erupted periodically over the decades, forcing waves of Rohingya to seek refuge in neighbouring Bangladesh and other countries.

However, the crisis reached its most devastating phase in 2017.

In August that year, attacks by a Rohingya insurgent group on Myanmar security forces triggered a massive military crackdown.

The Myanmar military launched what it described as a counter-insurgency operation.

International investigations, however, painted a far darker picture.

Villages were burned to the ground. Thousands were killed. Women reported widespread sexual violence.

Entire communities were driven from their homes. Within months, more than 700,000 Rohingya fled across the border into Bangladesh, joining hundreds of thousands who had escaped earlier waves of persecution.

The United Nations (UN) described the military campaign as a ‘textbook example of ethnic cleansing’.

Human rights organisations and several governments accused Myanmar’s military of committing crimes against humanity and genocide.

The images of desperate refugees crossing rivers, trudging through muddy fields and crowding into makeshift camps, shocked the world.

Today, nearly a million Rohingya remain in refugee camps in Bangladesh, while hundreds of thousands more are scattered across Southeast Asia, including Malaysia, Indonesia and Thailand.

Malaysia has long been a preferred destination because of its Muslim-majority population, relatively stronger economy and reputation for humanitarian compassion.

Sympathy for the Rohingya should not prevent honest discussion about legitimate challenges.

Malaysia has every right to regulate immigration, maintain public order and protect national interests and citizens are entitled to expect that refugees respect local laws, customs and social norms.

Is there a solution to the Rohingya refugee problem?

Their sheer number makes it impossible to come up with a viable answer.

Wealthier nations should increase resettlement programmes.

International organisations should provide greater financial assistance.

Most importantly, efforts must continue to address the root causes of the Rohingya crisis in Myanmar itself.

Until conditions exist for safe, voluntary and dignified return, the Rohingya displacement crisis will remain unresolved.

A possible solution is for the United Nation and regional organisations like Asean to pressure Myanmar to negotiate with the Buddhist Arakan army controlling the Rakhine State to allow the Rohingyas back to their original homes.

source https://www.theborneopost.com/2026/06/21/rohingya-dilemma-balancing-compassion-national-interests/