The Rohingya crisis should not be reduced to oversimplified narratives of colonial collaborators or ethnic insurgents.
If we fail to understand the historical context of the Arakan Kingdom, the Konbaung Dynasty, and the legacy of British rule, we risk parroting the voices of Myanmar’s military regime.

From a third-party perspective, it is essential to ask: What is justice?
The Rohingya are not demanding wealth or revenge. They simply wish to return to Rakhine State—their birthplace—with rightful citizenship and safety.

This project began with that most basic human desire.
I visited refugee camps in Bangladesh, met the Rohingya face-to-face, and listened to where they had come from, what they had lost, and where they hoped to return.
Most had lived in the same region for generations and could clearly recall the names of their villages.
Historically, Burma’s complete control over Rakhine lasted for only about 40 years in the late 18th century.
Even 17th-century Portuguese records confirm the coexistence of Muslims, Hindus, and Buddhists in the region.

Despite this, the Myanmar government continues to label the Rohingya as “illegal immigrants,” stripping them of citizenship and rendering hundreds of thousands stateless.
This has become one of the worst minority rights violations in the post-UN era.
What the Rohingya demand is simple: to live like other citizens without fear of murder or property seizure—to be recognized as people of their homeland.

All those I interviewed said the same: Myanmar is our home. Bangladesh is a foreign country.
If only their lives and property were protected, they would return immediately—leaving behind the heat, hunger, and uncertainty of the camps.

Myanmar is the only country that can resolve this issue.
It must end its ethnic cleansing and move toward inclusion through education and reform.

What is most disturbing is that such violent solutions to ethnic problems have no precedent in the history of modern democracies.
If the international community remains silent, there is no guarantee that similar actions will not be repeated elsewhere.
We must remember: under the right conditions, anyone can become a minority.
And the responsibility of solidarity is the very minimum we owe to the values we claim to uphold.

If my photographs can cause even one viewer to pause, to look more closely—then that is enough.
Photography may be slower than speech, but it often travels farther.

Hakbong Kwon, 2019