Rohingya Refugees and the Crisis in Bangladesh’s Criminal Justice System

(BANGLADESH) With more than one million Rohingya refugees living in crowded camps along the country’s southeast border, Bangladesh faces a deepening crisis in the criminal justice space. The problem goes beyond security: it is a legal vacuum born from statelessness, a lack of recognized refugee status, and tight movement controls that keep people from reaching police stations, lawyers, and courts. Rights groups say that without credible access to the formal system, the camps have grown dependent on informal leaders and ad hoc arbitration, leaving victims of crime—especially women and the poor—without real remedies.

The core problem starts with legal identity. Bangladesh is not a party to the 1951 Refugee Convention, and authorities classify Rohingya as “Forcibly Displaced Myanmar Nationals” (FDMNs), not refugees. In practice, this places them under the Foreigners Act, 1946, which regulates non-citizens but offers no path to asylum, permanent residency, or citizenship. While Articles 31 and 35 of the Bangladesh Constitution commit to equal protection and due process, camp residents rarely experience those rights in practice. The gap is not theoretical; it shapes daily life—people cannot use the system if they cannot reach it.

Informal dispute handling inside camps

Movement restrictions keep most complaints inside the camps, where dispute resolution is largely informal.

• Key informal actors: Camp-in-Charges (CiCs), Majhis (block leaders), some religious figures, and a few NGOs handle disputes.
• Limits of the system:
  • None are judges and most have no legal training.
  • There are no clear rules, no records, and little oversight.
  • Hearings are reported to be affected by favoritism, pressure from powerful groups, or outright bribery.

For many—especially women—speaking up risks backlash with no guarantee of action. Criminal cases vanish into silence and civil disputes often end in shaky compromises that may not hold.

Security challenges and criminal networks

Security conditions increase the pressure on an already weak justice environment.

• Reports show rising incidents of murder, robbery, kidnapping, extortion, drug trafficking, and sexual violence.
• Gangs operate across camp sectors and along smuggling routes, exploiting:
  • Darkness and fear
  • The knowledge that victims struggle to file police reports
• When authorities ask camp leaders to intervene, it can pit community figures against armed groups, fueling mistrust and retaliation.

Without a reliable route into the formal criminal justice system, residents describe a climate where perpetrators test limits and victims lose hope.

Barriers inside and outside the camps

Simple acts—like filing a First Information Report (FIR) with police or consulting a lawyer—are difficult. Rohingya refugees need permission to leave camps, and that permission is hard to secure. Even when complaints reach formal authorities, advocates report:

• Cases stalling amid bureaucratic delays
• Unclear jurisdiction or lack of follow-up
• Corruption that undermines trust
• Prosecutors declining to move forward
• Investigations that begin but fade without explanation

Several structural factors keep the system closed off:

• Restricted movement: Residents cannot freely travel to stations, court buildings, or legal aid clinics.
• No recognized status: Classification as FDMNs denies standard refugee protections and avenues to lawful stay.
• Weak documentation: Limited identity papers complicate case intake, evidence handling, and witness tracking.
• Informal arbitration pressure: Community leaders often push parties to settle privately, even for serious offenses.
• Risk to victims: Fear of reprisals and social pressure discourages reporting, especially in sexual violence cases.

Human Rights Watch and other organizations have documented repeated cases where victims reported serious harm but saw no meaningful investigation. Families often say they do not know where their cases stand; some report being told to return to camp leaders rather than pursue formal charges. Each failed attempt hardens the belief that the system is not for them.

Bangladesh officials say they face a heavy load: a massive population influx, limited resources, cross-border crime, and no regional return plan. That context is real, but experts warn that leaving hundreds of thousands outside the justice system imposes long-term costs for residents and the state alike.

The legal frame and what it means in practice

The country’s decision not to sign the 1951 Convention has left policy anchored in national law. The Foreigners Act, 1946, available on the official Bangladesh laws portal, outlines the state’s authority over non-citizens without creating an asylum track. Readers can review the statute here: Foreigners Act, 1946 (Bangladesh Laws).

In the camps, that legal baseline combines with movement rules to shape who can report, how, and with what outcome. The end result is a system where formal rights exist on paper for “all persons,” but many cannot exercise them.

Inside this gap, an informal justice market has taken root:

• Majhis and CiCs organize meetings; religious leaders mediate; some NGOs try to build safeguards.
• Yet none of this equals a structured, accountable court: no standard rules of evidence, no neutral record-keeping, and no guaranteed access to defense or survivor support.
• Payment requests can appear at every step. Decisions are often perceived as favoring the influential and punishing the outspoken.

For women and girls, the cost is especially high. Gender-based violence thrives behind closed doors when authorities are distant and complaints are pushed back into the community. Survivors report:

• Silencing and forced “settlements”
• Pressure to reconcile with abusers
• Lack of bridges to police units trained in sensitive crimes
• No secure shelter or witness protection

According to analysis by VisaVerge.com, durable solutions require more than security patrols or sporadic case pickups. The site’s reporting points toward a rights-based model: legal recognition, practical movement channels, and real access to police, public prosecutors, and courts. Experts say this is the only path that can reduce impunity while treating camp residents as rights holders rather than passive recipients of aid.

Recommended steps to close the gap

Advocates press several steps to start closing the justice gap:

1. Clear, lawful access to police and courts
   • Establish predictable permission procedures so complainants, witnesses, and accused persons can appear safely and on time.
2. Independent legal aid
   • Support vetted legal services inside or adjacent to camps, with privacy safeguards and trained interpreters.
3. Protection-first response to violence
   • Create survivor-centered reporting options, medical care, psychosocial support, and secure shelter.
4. Transparent referrals
   • Require written handover from camp authorities to police, with case numbers provided to complainants.
5. Training and oversight
   • Train CiCs and Majhis on lawful roles and boundaries; prohibit interference in serious offenses; audit camp-level dispute handling.

Bangladesh’s constitution, read with ordinary criminal law, already promises due process to every person in the country. Bringing practice closer to that promise would narrow the justice gap without changing the nation’s treaty posture. Even partial steps—like standard permits to attend hearings or guaranteed police intake desks near camp gates—could reduce harm immediately.

“Clear routes to report crime, legal aid that people trust, and predictable court access are tools any state can build. Each step shifts power away from gangs and toward the rule of law.”

Calls for reform and regional context

Civil society groups urge a move from mercy-based exceptions to rights-based access. That includes recognizing Rohingya refugees as persons with enforceable legal protections, not just a temporary caseload. It also means designing systems that see each case through: registration, investigation, indictment where appropriate, and adjudication in ordinary courts with appeal rights.

Where informal mediation remains, it should be limited to minor disputes and subject to clear rules and oversight. Regional factors matter: as long as return to Myanmar remains unsafe and no third-country pathways scale up, camps will likely function as long-term communities. A justice vacuum in long-term settings invites more crime, fear, and private power. Conversely, connecting camp residents to state institutions can build trust on both sides.

Officials worry about strain on courts, policing resources, and social cohesion. Those are real concerns, but there are ways to manage volume without closing the door:

• Set up camp-linked legal desks staffed by trained officers who can take statements, register cases, and arrange transport to court when needed.
• Issue standard movement permits tied to case milestones, so complainants and witnesses can travel lawfully for filings and hearings.
• Expand mobile courts for minor matters, while keeping serious crimes—like homicide, rape, and kidnapping—in the regular system.
• Publish public data on case intake, investigations opened, charges filed, and convictions, disaggregated by offense type, to build trust.

For Rohingya refugees, the stakes are basic: safety, dignity, and a fair chance to be heard. For Bangladesh, bringing camp residents into the criminal justice fold is not just about rights; it is about good policing, public order, and preventing organized crime from becoming the default authority. When formal systems work, fewer people turn to informal power brokers. When cases move, rumor loses ground to record.

The present picture shows a hard reality: statelessness and blocked access have created a steep hill to climb. But policy choices can change the slope. Clear routes to report crime, legal aid that people trust, and predictable court access are tangible tools. Each case handled fairly sends the message that the law sees them—and shifts power away from gangs and toward the rule of law.

Until broader solutions emerge, practical justice access inside Bangladesh will shape daily life in the camps. The question is whether that access will remain mostly informal and fragile—or become structured, safe, and real.