The EconomistJanuary 27th 2018 Asia 232 The growth of conglomerates initially
increased competition: in addition to Air
Koryo, for example, a riding club, a ski re-
sort and a phone company also set up taxi
services. But the big firms are starting to
gobble up or squeeze out the small busi-
nesses through which poorer North Kore-
ans make a living. Seafood companies con-
nected to the army are putting fishing
co-operatives out of business.
Analysts reckon the big companies are
a prop to the regime, too. They not only pay
taxes, but can manufacture things that are
hard for it to obtain because of internation-
al sanctions. The wealthy are presumably
happy to have increased opportunities,
even if they can be withdrawn at the re-
gime’s whim (one of the reasons for Jang’s
execution is said to have been his eco-
nomic power). The Bank of Korea, in Seoul,
reckons the GDPof the North increased by
3.9% in 2016.
But in the long run, a more “aspirational
society” and a healthy middle class may
lead to the country opening up, says Simon
Cockerell, who runs Koryo Tours, a travel
agency based in Beijing, and has visited
North Korea 168 times. These companies
have been able to grow thanks in part to a
growing consumerclass, albeit mainly
confined to Pyongyang. Sokeel Park of Lib-
erty In North Korea, a Seoul-based organi-
sation, reckons the development of new
centres of power, which follow economic
incentives, will ultimately increase pres-
sure on the regime. 7I
NSIDE a cramped flat beside a motorway
in Puchong, a suburb of Kuala Lumpur, 13
Rohingyas jostle for space. Rows of wash-
ing, rather than pictures, hang along grimy
white walls. Rubbish is stacked on two
mouldy refrigerators. The only furniture in
the main room is a sideboard stuffed with
bedding, for when the adults—who spend
their time doing odd jobs, such as collect-
ing waste orselling scrap—come back at the
end of the day to sleep on the floor. Several
are gaunt, and complain of eating only one
or two meals a day. With little else to play
with, a toddler sucks on a metal padlock as
if it were a toy.
Rohingyas are a Muslim minority who
live in Rakhine state in largely Buddhist
Myanmar. Over the past five months some
680,000 of them have fled to Bangladesh
to escape a pogrom conducted by the Bur-
mese army and their Buddhist neighbours.They now live in crowded and unhygienic
shantytown campsjust over the border. In
theory, the Burmese government is willing
to take them back, and has even signed an
agreement to that effect with Bangladesh.
But few in the camps express a desire to re-
turn withoutplausible guarantees of safe-
ty and fair treatment in Myanmar—a far-
fetched notion given the hostility of the
Burmese army and public to their return.
On January 22nd Bangladesh’sgovern-
ment admitted that it could not start the
process of repatriating them.
But the alternatives are hardly enticing.
Some 200,000 Rohingyas who fled earlier
bouts of violence are thought to remain in
Bangladesh. Others have found their way
to different countries. Precise numbers are
hard to come by, but it is estimated that
around 300,000 Rohingyas live in Paki-
stan, 250,000 in Saudi Arabia and 100,000
in Malaysia. All ofthe inhabitantsof the
flat in Puchong fled Myanmar in 2012, after
the killing of a Buddhist woman sparked
bloody anti-Rohingya riots. People-smug-
glers took them by boat to Thailand, from
where they travelled overland to Malaysia.
Pakistan and Malaysia, however, have
not signed the UNConvention on Refu-
gees, which obliges receiving countries to
help those fleeing persecution. Indeed,
Rohingya refugees tend to disguise where
they are from. Most Rohingyas in Pakistan
made their way there via Bangladesh in
the 1960s, when Bangladesh was still a
province of Pakistan. Others pretend to be
Indian Muslims, to take advantage of the
warmer welcome Pakistan accords such
people. The UN’s refugee agency (UNHCR)
has registered around 66,000 Rohingya ref-
ugees in Malaysia, giving them a special
identity card, but that does not confer theright to work or live in the country.
As Rohingyas in Malaysia cannot work
legally, they have little option but to scratch
a living collecting rubbish, or to take ill-
paid informal workon construction sites
and farms. They are vulnerable to abuse
from both employers and corrupt officials.
They have no access to public education.
Although those who are registered with
UNHCRget a discount on health care, the
vast majority have no option but expen-
sive private doctors.
Similarly, in Pakistan, Rohingya men
tend to work illegally, as fishermen, me-
chanics or waiters. Few children attend
school; child labour isrife. Outside a public
hospital in a well-to-do neighbourhood in
Karachi, a 33-year-old man is thankful that
the government does not know where he
is from. His two-year-old son has pneumo-
nia, and is being treated inside. If he had
admitted that he was Rohingya, rather
than a mohajir(a Muslim refugee from In-
dia) as he had claimed, he would have had
to turn to an ill-equipped private clinic.
Politicians in both Malaysia and Paki-
stan have been quick to condemn the re-
cent violence in Myanmar. Najib Razak,
Malaysia’s prime minister, raised the plight
of the Rohingyas at a meeting with Donald
Trump in September and at several sum-
mits ofASEAN, a regional club of which
Myanmar is a member. Khawaja Muham-
mad Asif, Pakistan’sforeign minister, has
described events in Myanmar as a “chal-
lenge to the conscience”.
Yet very little is being done to make Ro-
hingyas’ lives easier. Malaysia has started a
pilot scheme to get Rohingyas into work,
but it has only 300 participants so far. In
Pakistan the odd politician hassuggested
giving Rohingyas citizenship. But the peo-
ple of Sindh, the province of which Karachi
is capital, are not keen on the idea of com-
peting with Rohingyas for the govern-
ment’s limited resources.
As the crisis rumbles on in Myanmar,
the situation for Rohingya refugees else-
where is unlikely to improve. Making
noises about helping the Rohingyas may
be good politics, particularly in Malaysia,
where Mr Najib will face voters later this
year. But the reality is that foreign govern-
ments see them as an unwelcome burden
on the state. “Malaysian officials in the past
have said explicitly we cannot make the
situation too comfortable here, because
more will come,” says Matthew Smith of
Fortify Rights, an NGO.
As a result, Rohingyas are typically kept
in a state of deprivation and uncertainty.
Surrounded by football trophies in a room
in Arkanabad, a Rohingya neighbourhood
in Karachi, Faisal Hussain, a 22-year-old
Rohingya, admits that he often looks at im-
ages of his homeland in Myanmar. “They
have greeneryand lush farmlands,” he
says, his eyes welling up. “In my heart I
want to go back but I know I cannot.” 7The Rohingya diasporaUnwanted
everywhere
KARACHI AND KUALA LUMPUR
Life is grim for Rohingya refugees in
Malaysia and PakistanLucky by Rohingya standardsРЕЛИЗ
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