Pakistan's Bangladesh overture cannot escape the stateless Bengalis question

After the ouster of Sheikh Hasina’s autocratic government in July Uprising, a warmth had descended upon the decade-long frosty relationship between Dhaka and Islamabad. Pakistani diplomats and military officials have rolled out the red carpet for their erstwhile compatriots.

High-ranking dignitaries, including Pakistan's Deputy Prime Minister Ishaq Dar, have scurried to Dhaka during the time of the interim administration which lasted till this February, and there were revivals of intelligence sharing, military cooperation, student scholarships and trade routes.

Yet, in the labyrinthine, open-sewered slums of Karachi—places like Machar Colony and Musa Colony—lies a human tragedy that still questions newfound diplomatic romance. Here, an estimated three million Bengalis live in a state of institutionalized invisibility. 

Though many were born on Pakistani soil and have known no other home for over half a century, the state treats them as unwanted ghosts. Pakistan is eagerly courting the state of Bangladesh while crushing the lives of the millions of Bengalis trapped within its own borders.

This stateless population is a legacy of the blood-soaked fracture of 1971. When East Pakistan broke away to become independent Bangladesh, hundreds of thousands of Bengalis remained in the west, working in Karachi’s ports and fishing industries. 

Over the decades, their numbers swelled. Today, three generations of Bengalis have known only the soil of Pakistan. They speak Urdu, wave the Pakistani flag at cricket matches, and contribute to the local economy. Yet, they are denied the most basic tool of modern existence: the National Identity Card.

Without this digital passport to civil life, a person ceases to exist in the eyes of the state. They cannot vote, open a bank account, buy property, or secure formal employment. For the youth of Karachi’s Bengali colonies, the lack of documentation creates an insurmountable wall. 

Gifted young footballers and cricket players find themselves barred from national teams or international travel. Marriage registration is nearly impossible, pushing families to arrange early marriages for daughters simply because advanced education and careers are legally blocked. 

It is an intergenerational trap; the administrative erasure of a parent guarantees the structural poverty of the child.

The supreme irony of this disenfranchisement is that it violates Pakistan’s own jurisprudence. The Pakistan Citizenship Act of 1951 explicitly guarantees birthright citizenship to anyone born within the territory of the state. For decades, paper identity documents offered a precarious shield. 

The crisis deepened into systematic discrimination in 2000 with the introduction of a centralized digital registry. Under the guise of national security, bureaucratic machinery began reclassifying long-term residents as "foreigners" or illegal Bangladeshi migrants. 

What should have been a routine administrative update became an instrument of institutional racism, converting a native-born population into stateless refugees.

This failure of moral and humanitarian responsibility stands in stark contrast to the path taken by Bangladesh. Following its independence, Dhaka faced the equally complex issue of hundreds of thousands of Urdu-speaking Biharis who had sided with Pakistan during the war and were left stranded in squalid camps. 

Through a protracted legal and political process, the Bangladeshi judiciary ultimately recognized the citizenship and voting rights of the new generation born on its soil. Bangladesh chose integration; Pakistan has chosen permanent internal exile.

This domestic hypocrisy casts a long shadow over Islamabad’s current charm offensive. It is simple enough to trade pleasantries in diplomatic salons, but the true measure of a state’s sincerity lies in its treatment of the vulnerable. 

Former Prime Minister Imran Khan recognized this in 2018 when he boldly promised to grant citizenship to Pakistan’s stateless Bengalis, conceding that denying them their birthright was a grave injustice. Like so many promises in Pakistani politics, the vow evaporated the moment it collided with the deep state’s security paranoia.

If the current leadership in Islamabad truly desires a genuine partnership with Dhaka, it can no longer pretend these three million people do not exist. A message of fraternal affection for Bangladesh rings hollow while the children of Karachi’s slums are denied the right to an education simply because of their ethnic heritage. 

True reconciliation cannot be achieved by merely ignoring the ghosts of the past; it requires justice for the living.

Responsibility also lies with the new authorities in Dhaka. While pursuing economic integration and regional cooperation is sensible, Bangladeshi policymakers must not allow the euphoria of a new diplomatic era to drown out fundamental human rights. 

The plight of the diaspora in Karachi must be placed squarely on the bilateral negotiation table. Dhaka must demand that any comprehensive reset in ties include guarantees of civil rights, healthcare, and dignity for the Bengali community in Pakistan.

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Siam Sarower Jamil is a Journalist and Researcher. He can be reached at siam33jamil@gmail.com