Over the years, I have visited the Rohingya refugee camps in Cox’s Bazar countless times. Every visit left me with the same question. What will become of this generation if the world continues to see them only as recipients of aid?
When we speak about the Rohingya crisis, we often speak in numbers: 1.2 million refugees, funding appeals, food rations and shelter. I understand those figures matter. But numbers cannot capture what I see when I walk through the camps.
I met children who have spent their entire lives as refugees, adolescents who dream of becoming teachers, engineers, body builders or doctors, but have never had the opportunity to pursue those ambitions. I sat with mothers who worry less about today’s meal than about whether their daughters will have any future at all. I spoke with young men who desperately want to contribute, learn and support their families, yet find themselves trapped in years of uncertainty. Community leaders told me they fear an entire generation is growing older without growing forward. What struck me most is that the Rohingya are not lacking talent or determination. They are lacking opportunity.
But today, after nearly a decade, I see clearly that survival is no longer sufficient. The most critical risk is the loss of human capital. The Rohingya population is largely comprised of children, adolescents, young people and women – the populations most vital to any country’s future – yet their crucial formative years are being spent with severely restricted opportunities to gain knowledge, develop skills, build confidence and leadership.
Every year lost to a lack of learning, skill development and protection is not just another year of exile, but another year of squandered human potential. This should be of concern to far more than humanitarian organisations. History teaches us that large numbers of young people who grow up without prospects seldom confine their despair to the refugee camps. The wasted potential of today can become the seed of instability tomorrow.
Frustration can make young people more vulnerable to trafficking, exploitation, crime and dangerous migration; the weakening of protection systems makes women and girls increasingly at risk, and hopelessness drives families to take extreme risks in pursuit of a better life elsewhere. These are not hypothetical scenarios; they are the daily realities that humanitarian workers observe. Yet, the international discourse surrounding the Rohingya crisis largely remains focused on the cost of aid. These are not distant possibilities. They are realities that humanitarian workers witness every day. Yet international conversation continues to focus primarily on the cost of supporting refugees.
I argue that we are asking the wrong question. The real question is: how will it cost us as a country, a region, and a global community to let 1.2 million people lose the knowledge, skills, and self-confidence they need to rebuild their lives when the conditions for return arise? Human capital is not a luxury item to be purchased after a crisis subsides. It is the bedrock of resilience, stability, and peace.
When I spoke with Rohingya families, they consistently told me they want to return to their homeland when it is safe, voluntary and dignified. They do not want their children to remain dependent on aid forever. They want them to learn, contribute and eventually help rebuild their communities. If that future is ever to become possible, investment cannot wait until repatriation becomes a reality.
Protecting education, expanding opportunities for adolescents and young people, strengthening mental health services, supporting women and girls to become leaders, and enabling communities to build resilience are not secondary priorities. They are essential investments in future stability. At the same time, humanitarian assistance cannot replace political action. Regional and global leaders must renew efforts to create the conditions for safe, voluntary and dignified return to Myanmar while ensuring Bangladesh is not left to shoulder this responsibility alone.
Every visit to the camps reminds me that behind every statistic is a child eager to learn, a young person determined to contribute, a mother protecting her family’s future and a father trying to preserve hope despite years of uncertainty. The world still has a choice.
We can manage this crisis one funding cycle at a time or recognise the Rohingya for what they really represent: the largest reservoir of untapped human potential on the planet. History will judge us not only by how well we keep this generation alive but also by whether we offered them a future worth living.
The writer is the Acting Country Director, International Rescue Committee (IRC), Bangladesh
