By Mohammed Amin, CEO of Rohingya Centre UK (RCUK)
I have spent much of my life working among our Rohingya people — as a community supporter worker, teacher, refugee, and now as a community leader engaging with civil society and working government sectors in the UK and beyond. From world largest refugee camp to Parliament and conferences in Europe, I have carried one mission in my heart: to serve our people with dignity and honesty.
I have not just visited the camps — I have lived there. I have taught Rohingya children in bamboo classrooms who dreamed of real schools prior 2012. I have carried water with mothers under the scorching sun, and I have listened to elders share memories of Arakan before the genocide. These experiences were not distant stories; they were my own life. They shaped who I am and why I continue this struggle today.
And yet, despite everything we have endured, there is one hard truth we must face: we are not only oppressed by the Burmese military and the AA extremist armed forces — we are also hampered by our own internal divisions.
We often speak of “Rohingya unity” as if it is something automatic. But when we look honestly in Arakan, in the refugee camps, and across the diaspora. We see deep cracks. Divisions based on village lines, family ties, and loyalty to certain figures keep us from standing together as one strong Rohingya nation.
Too often, capable and principled individuals are pushed aside because they do not belong to the “right” group. Leadership roles become tools for influence and personal gain rather than true service. Women are sidelined. Young people are told to “follow the orders” instead of being empowered to lead now. Meanwhile, the real issues — safe return to Arakan with dignified rights, quality education, and the fight against statelessness — remain neglected.
This type of internal politics mirrors the same exclusion we have always fought against. When we divide ourselves, we become weaker and lose focus on our true struggle: rebuilding our nation and securing justice.
I have seen both our strongest spirit and our deepest weaknesses. I have met Rohingya who dedicate their lives to supporting widows, building learning centres, and mentoring youth — not for fame, but from a deep love for the community. These are the real leaders we must support and learn from.
We need a new culture of leadership that is:
- Transparent — decisions made openly, with input from the people.
- Accountable — leaders answerable to the community, not only to close supporters.
- Inclusive — women and youth fully involved, not sidelined or silenced.
- Purpose-driven — focused on long-term collective progress, not personal positions.
We have already lost our homes and citizenship. We have lost our land — but if we lose our unity, we lose everything. We must also not lose our moral foundation and shared purpose. If we remain divided, we stay weak and ignored. But if we unite with dignity, discipline, and collective responsibility, we can rebuild our spirit even in exile.
I understand the pull to support someone familiar, someone from our own village or family. But our support is not a personal favour — it is a responsibility. It is how we protect our people’s future and ensure they do not inherit the same pain and struggle.
We must move from individual-based politics to purpose-driven leadership. We must support those who have ability or proven service, not those with empty promises or grand rhetoric without meaningful action. We must raise our expectations and hold our leaders and ourselves to higher standards.
I say all this not out of anger or disrespect, but out of love for my nation — a nation that has endured genocide, exile, and endless suffering. A nation that still stands tall, that dreams of freedom and dignity. I believe in our potential. I believe we deserve better. And I believe that change starts with each of us making bold, conscious choices.
If we keep supporting the same leaders, using the same old logic, we will keep getting the same results — exile, neglect, and continued oppression. We owe ourselves more than that.
This is not an attack on any individual, family, or group. It is a call to awaken our collective conscience. It is a plea for honest dialogue and courageous decisions that will shape our destiny.
I have lived among you, worked for you, and shared your pain and your hopes — from the camps to the community centres of the UK. My only goal is to see our people strong, united, and finally free.
If not now, when? If not us, who?
May Allah guide us toward wisdom and unity.
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this message are entirely my own, drawn from years of community work and personal reflection.