Sitting in a bamboo shelter in the world’s largest refugee camp in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh, Rohingya refugees like Azizur Rehman are confronting a painful paradox. Once denounced for her silence during the 2017 military crackdown that displaced over 700,000 Rohingya, Myanmar’s imprisoned former leader Aung San Suu Kyi is now seen by some as a potential key to their return home.
According to The Independent UK, Rehman, who fled Rakhine State during the 2017 exodus and now works as a community leader in the camps, believes Suu Kyi was “just a rag doll who never had absolute power”. He argues that her release could “awaken her conscience and give her a chance to redeem herself for not speaking up for the Rohingya when she was in power”.
Rehman’s view is shared by many in the refugee camps, where despair over prolonged displacement has led to renewed hope that Suu Kyi could play a role in repatriation efforts. Despite her controversial defence of the military at the International Court of Justice in 2019, some refugees now see her as a victim of the same regime that has persecuted them.
The ongoing civil war in Myanmar has only deepened the uncertainty for the Rohingya. Since General Min Aung Hlaing led a coup against Suu Kyi’s elected government in 2021, the military has faced increasing resistance from pro-democracy fighters and ethnic militias. The junta, which has lost control of large swaths of the country, recently announced plans for elections by early 2026. However, opposition leaders remain jailed, and much of the country is under rebel control, leading many to dismiss the planned vote as a farce.
Meanwhile, in Cox’s Bazar, refugees like Mohammad Shakir blame General Hlaing and the Arakan Army for the continued displacement of Rohingya communities. Shakir, 35, argues that if Rohingya voices were to support Suu Kyi’s release, “she might testify that Rohingya did not commit violence, but the junta did”.
The re-evaluation of Suu Kyi’s legacy comes as international pressure mounts on the Myanmar military. In November last year, the International Criminal Court’s prosecutor requested an arrest warrant against General Hlaing for “crimes against humanity of deportation and persecution of the Rohingya”. While the request is still under review, many Rohingya see it as a step towards justice.
Rohingya refugees closely follow developments in Myanmar through television and online news, despite poor connectivity in the overcrowded camps. For some, the memory of Suu Kyi’s father, General Aung San, who once declared that “Myanmar’s citizens will live together and die together”, remains a source of optimism. Rehman recalls the red identity cards issued under Aung San’s leadership, marking Rohingya as full citizens—only to be later replaced by white cards, stripping them of their rights.
Despite the shifting sentiments, many Rohingya remain divided over Suu Kyi’s legacy. Abdul Karim, a 60-year-old refugee, laments that “we voted for her in the election as she was our only hope. But she failed us and the world”. Others, like Noor Hashim, who works with trafficking victims in the camps, believe that Suu Kyi is herself a victim of the military. “Suu Kyi has been the victim of the military like us,” he argues, calling for her release.
With the Myanmar military on the defensive and the junta’s grip on power weakening, the future of the Rohingya remains uncertain. While some hold onto the hope that Suu Kyi’s release could change their fate, others fear that their displacement will continue indefinitely. As Myanmar’s political crisis deepens, the Rohingya remain caught in a struggle for identity, justice, and the right to return home.
