Joli No’udim Hittei?- “Why shouldn’t I resist?”

Even after half a century since the birth of Bangladesh, the state has yet to ensure and sustainably implement the rights of the Indigenous Peoples (IPs) in Bangladesh. The pattern is, unfortunately, way too familiar and repetitive. Almost every year, we see violencence escalating in the hills, leaving a deep and long-lasting scar and trauma.

The 2024 Bangladesh Quota Reform Movement initially sparked hope to the indigenous communities against longstanding injustices. However, many developments since then has been rather disappointing. According to a report by the Parbatya Chattagram Jana Samhati Samiti, in 2025 alone, 268 incidents of human rights violations were recorded, affecting 606 Jumma individuals. The report further indicates that security forces, police, Bangalee settlers, and extremist groups were found responsible for these violations. It also recorded eight extrajudicial killings, 117 arbitrary arrests, 193 village search operations, and 26 incidents of violence against women and children.

Historically, little interest has been shown by the successive governments in addressing the political and structural crisis in the CHT, as Mark Twain observed, history doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes. Human rights concerns affecting the Bawm community also reflect the broader pattern of vulnerability, insecurity, and protection gaps faced by the IPs in the Chittagong Hill Tracts.

Beyond the so-called political unrest lies a deeper constitutional and legal dilemma: who qualifies as “Indigenous” in Bangladesh? The state has consistently avoided providing a concise and exclusive legal definition. Article 23A of the Constitution of the People‌‌‍’s Republic of Bangladesh acknowledges the duty of protection and development of the unique local culture and tradition of the “tribes, minor races, ethnic sects and communities,” yet it fails to guarantee Indigenous identity as a distinct constitutional category. Furthermore, constitutional frameworks and judicial interpretations have also failed to fully recognise the right to self-determination for indigenous communities.

Historically, little interest has been shown by the successive governments in addressing the political and structural crisis in the CHT, as Mark Twain observed, history doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.

In addition, many of our statutes, e.g., the CHT Accord 1997, the State Acquisition and Tenancy Act 1950, the CHT Regulation 1900, and the CHT Regional Council Act 1998, use fragmented terminology such as ‘tribes’, ‘aboriginals’, and ‘indigenous hillman’, avoiding a dignified identity for the IPs.

Moreover, from the perspective of constitutionality as well, the CHT Accord and the Regional Council Act were challenged in Md. Badiuzzaman v Bangladesh (writ petition no: 2669/2000) and Md. Tazul Islam v Bangladesh (writ petition no: 6451/2007). In April 2010, a High Court Division bench declared the Regional Council Act 1998 unconstitutional stating that it affected the unitary character of the Constitution. However, the Appellate Division later stayed the High Court verdict. While this preserved the formal validity of the Accord, implementation remains sluggish and incomplete. In my opinion, lands stand at the centre of all conflict in the CHT, pulling every social and political grievance into its depths. The land is the repository of indigenous life, holding within it the communities’ past, their cultural soul, and future viability. However, these very lands form crux of conflicts too. For instance, the Kaptai Dam submerged around 250 sq. km. of ancestral land, displacing approximately 100,000 IPs. Furthermore, Bangladesh ratified International Labour Organisation (ILO) Convention 107 but abstained from ratifying ILO Convention 169, which provides for stronger land and consultation rights. Again, it refrained from voting on the non-binding United Nations Declaration on the Rights of the Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). Such selective engagement narrows binding obligations regarding the acknowledgement of indigenous autonomy and land rights, limiting international accountability mechanisms.

Unfortunately, and perhaps most importantly, the quest for constitutional inclusivity is yet to be acknowledged. Article 6(2) of the existing Constitution defines every person as ‘Bangalees’, which radically ignores the indigenous peoples’ identity. Manabendra Narayan Larma, a former member of the Bangladesh Parliament opposed the drafted Constitution due to the imposition of Bengali hegemony on the non-Bangalee ethnic groups and tribal communities living in Bangladesh. He argued, “Under no definition or logic can a Chakma be a Bengali or a Bengali be a Chakma. A Bengali living in Pakistan cannot become or be called a Punjabi, Pathan, or Sindhi; any of them living in Bangladesh cannot be called a Bengali. As citizens of Bangladesh, we are all Bangladeshis, but we also have a separate ethnic identity....”

In sum, the CHT represents Bangladesh’s unresolved constitutional challenge of pluralism, justice, and land security. It is a stress test of Bangladesh’s constitutional maturity. How the state resolves it will define whether legal pluralism is symbolic or substantive.

The writer is official contributor to the law desk, the Daily Star.