Collective Punishment of Rohingya on Bhasan Char
How a theft led to the shutdown of an entire market and what it reveals about unchecked administrative power on Bhasan Char

An audio message circulated by CMO (care maintenance officer) Faisal, a junior camp-level official, relayed what was described as an “urgent order” from the CiC office.
All Rohingya shops and businesses in Cluster 05, including Market No. 19 and smaller shops across nearby clusters, were to be shut down indefinitely.
The reason: a theft.
Electrical wires and a motor had been stolen from a shelter used by CiC office staff. Until the items were recovered, all Rohingya-run businesses were to remain closed. Any shop that opened in violation of the order would be demolished immediately, with further legal action to follow.
There was no investigation at this stage. No named suspects. No attempt to distinguish between individuals and the wider community.
Instead, an entire population was punished. This cannot be described as policing. It is collective punishment.




Within 24 hours, the stolen items were reportedly recovered. Four individuals were apprehended: two Rohingya and two Bangladeshi nationals.
But even here, the asymmetry of power was visible. Images of the two Rohingya suspects were circulated in internal WhatsApp groups of “Head focals.” The Bangladeshi suspects were not. The Bangladeshis will likely enter the formal criminal justice system (police, courts, lawyers), while the Rohingya are trapped in the "system of exception" (CiC's whim, mobile courts, or arbitrary beating).
The initial order, however, had already done its work. Shops had been shuttered. Livelihoods were halted and a message sent.
The audio message relaying the order was circulated by CMO Faisal, a camp-level official, as I wrote above. This detail matters. By using a junior official to transmit “urgent orders,” the CiC’s office maintains a layer of distance, while enforcement is carried out through intermediaries. Responsibility becomes diffuse, but authority remains intact. I have previously reported on Faisal’s role in camp governance, including allegations from residents that he has been influential in shaping harsh enforcement practices on the island.
The logic is clear. When authority is concentrated in a single administrative office, and when those subject to that authority have no access to courts or independent complaint mechanisms, punishment becomes discretionary. It does not need to be proportionate or individualised. It does not even need to follow evidence! It only needs to be enforced.
For Rohingya on Bhasan Char, this is not an isolated incident but part of a wider pattern. During relocation from Cox’s Bazar, refugees were promised the ability to run businesses, raise livestock, and live with a degree of economic autonomy. These assurances were central to persuading many to move.
The reality has diverged sharply.
In a message circulated after the incident, one Rohingya resident described the decision as “unjust and unfair,” noting that the authorities had imposed collective punishment despite the fact that such thefts are rarely confined to Rohingya alone and often involve actors beyond the camps. The response, however, treated the entire Rohingya community as responsible.
There is a deeper issue here. The theft itself reportedly took place within a facility used by officials. That raises obvious questions about security and oversight. Yet the response was not to examine institutional failure (namely, Bangladeshi guards) but to impose sanctions on the refugee population.
This inversion, where those with the least power bear the greatest consequences, is not incidental. It is clear that it is built into the governance structure of Bhasan Char.
The CiC office exercises sweeping authority over movement, markets, dispute resolution, policing and discipline. There are no meaningful checks on this power from courts or independent bodies. In such a system, collective punishment is not an aberration. It is a tool. See this article of mine published recently in Dhaka Tribune.
The language of “management” and “security” is often used to describe how the island is run. But incidents like this reveal something else - a system in which an entire community can be penalised for the alleged actions of a few, without due process and without recourse. When a market is closed because of stolen wire, the island isn’t a “housing project”; it’s a high-security prison.
Finally, the silence of international humanitarian partners - UNHCR, BRAC etc - in the face of such blatant collective punishment is a dereliction of their protection mandate. It transforms their presence on the island from a safeguard into a silent endorsement of the CiC’s unchecked authority.
Related Reading:
Who Rules at the Camps
Dhaka Tribune (December, 2025)
Unravelling Bhasan Char: Bangladesh’s island for Rohingya refugees
DVB English (December, 2025)
Shut Down Bhasan Char Now
Counterpoint (June, 2025)
Bangladesh’s Island Warehouse for Rohingya Refugees
Failed Architecture (April, 2025)
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