Bangladesh’s Silence Fuels ARSA’s Cross-Border Terror: Who Bears Responsibility for Arakan’s Bloodshed?
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Mohammad Emdadul Islam, the retired Bangladeshi major who once served as consul in Sittwe
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In the tense borderlands where the Naf River divides Arakan’s wounded north from Bangladesh’s uneasy frontier, terror has become a daily reality. Since November 2023, the Bangladesh-based Islamist militant group ARSA (Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army) has waged a brutal campaign of violence in Maungdaw and Buthidaung, leaving more than sixty civilians dead or missing.
These victims were not soldiers or combatants—they were ordinary villagers, traders, and women collecting firewood. On January 8, 2024, three villagers were shot dead in Tat Min Chaung, while three others were left gravely injured. On July 18, seven civilians, including women, were hacked and gunned down in Letpanchay. Just two weeks later, on July 31, five more were ambushed and killed between Shwe Daung and Kyee Kan Pyin. Similar massacres followed through March 29 and October 22, when ARSA militants killed two women and wounded several others in southern Maungdaw.
These were not clashes between armed forces—no artillery, no open battle. They were targeted killings carried out through silent infiltration and quick withdrawal. ARSA strikes where villagers are most vulnerable—isolated paths, small markets, rural homes—spreading fear and instability in areas slowly rebuilding under local Arakan governance.
Local residents and security observers point to one enabler behind ARSA’s endurance: its sanctuary inside Bangladesh. From the refugee camps of Cox’s Bazar to hidden strongholds in Teknaf, the group recruits, trains, and rearms. Wounded fighters cross the Naf River, receive treatment, and return days later to continue their attacks. Despite frequent cross-border incursions, Bangladeshi border authorities have rarely intercepted or confronted ARSA units.
Intelligence sources and local reports suggest a pattern of official inaction and silent complicity. Safe houses, supply lines, and informal networks allow ARSA to operate with little resistance. Bangladesh publicly portrays itself as a victim of Myanmar’s crisis, yet its border security forces often turn a blind eye, allowing militants to slip across the frontier unchecked.
In a BBC interview on October 24, retired Bangladeshi Major Mohammad Emdadul Islam, formerly consul in Sittwe, remarked: “When people are hopeless, they can do anything bad.” Such statements—far from condemning extremism—risk legitimizing terrorism. They send a message of tolerance to those who kill without remorse. In the eyes of many Arakanese, this reflects not compassion but complicity.
The people of northern Arakan—Rakhine, Hindu, Mro, and Khumi communities alike—now live in constant fear. Farmers hesitate to enter their fields. Parents no longer allow children to walk to school unescorted. Every night, families brace for another abduction or attack.
While Dhaka insists it is overwhelmed by the refugee crisis and border instability, its failure to act decisively has made it more than a passive observer. By allowing ARSA to regroup and rearm within its borders, Bangladesh becomes an indirect accomplice to crimes that continue to devastate communities across Arakan.
ARSA’s survival depends not on ideology, but on the absence of resistance. Each unmonitored crossing, each uninvestigated killing, and each muted response from Dhaka strengthens the group’s hand. Until Bangladesh confronts the militants it harbors through coordinated border security and intelligence cooperation, the Naf River will remain a gateway for terror, not a boundary for peace.
The world must not look away. The victims of Tat Min Chaung, Letpanchay, and Shwe Daung are not mere statistics—they are the human cost of silence. True peace in Arakan will only come when Dhaka replaces denial with accountability and ends the safe haven that allows terror to thrive on its soil.
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