INTERNATIONAL
Trump’s UN speech just fueled Myanmar’s attempt at expelling the Rohingya
US President Donald Trump speaks during the 80th United Nations General Assembly, in New York City, New York, US, September 23, 2025. - REUTERS/Jeenah Moon/Filepic
WHEN U.S. President Donald Trump addressed the United Nations General Assembly on its 80th anniversary, his words reverberated far beyond New York. They were meant as a rallying cry against what he termed the “globalist migration agenda.”
AI Brief
Yet, in effect, his speech provided an unwelcome gift to regimes bent on exclusionary nationalism. For Myanmar, which has long pursued a strategy of rendering the Rohingya stateless and unwanted, the speech was more than rhetorical—it was legitimizing.
Trump urged nations to close borders, expel foreigners, and guard against migrants “you’ve never seen before, that you have nothing in common with.” He painted migration as an existential threat, warning of countries being “ruined” or “destroyed” by outsiders. Such framing, delivered from the podium of the United
Nations, cannot be dismissed as mere political theatre. It carries symbolic weight, suggesting that great powers will not only tolerate but may tacitly endorse such exclusionary measures.
For Myanmar’s generals, who for decades have denied the Rohingya citizenship and rights, Trump’s language is validation. The Rohingya’s marginalization is deeply rooted: since the 1982 Citizenship Law, they have been stripped of recognition as one of Myanmar’s “national races,” rendering them stateless in their own homeland. Successive governments labelled them “Bengali” interlopers from Bangladesh, despite centuries of Rohingya presence in Rakhine State.
This legal exclusion escalated into systemic violence. On August 25, 2017, Myanmar’s military launched a brutal campaign in Rakhine State marked by mass killings, widespread sexual violence, and the burning of villages. Within weeks, over 700,000 Rohingya fled to Bangladesh, joining hundreds of thousands already displaced in previous waves of persecution. Human Rights Watch has since documented how, five years on, the Rohingya remain trapped between refugee camps in Bangladesh and apartheid-like conditions in Myanmar, with no justice, no freedom, and no path to citizenship.
By rebranding expulsion as national self-preservation, Myanmar’s rulers find a powerful international voice indirectly affirming their domestic policies of exclusion. The danger lies not in direct coordination—no one suggests Trump scripted Myanmar’s actions—but in the ripple effects of rhetoric. When the leader of the world’s most powerful nation normalizes the idea of expelling foreigners, authoritarian regimes hear permission. They calculate that international norms have shifted, that condemnation may be muted, and that human rights obligations are optional. For persecuted minorities like the Rohingya, the consequences are chilling.
The United Nations, established to uphold human dignity, risks being repurposed into a stage for justifying its erosion. International law rests not only on treaties and institutions but also on the power of precedent and example. If the norm of protecting minorities is abandoned at the rhetorical level, it erodes the will to act at the policy level. Trump’s speech, therefore, is not just a domestic political message, it is a global signal that undermines decades of fragile progress on human rights.
Myanmar, of course, does not require external encouragement to repress the Rohingya. Its policies of forced displacement, denial of citizenship, and violent crackdowns predate Trump’s return to the presidency. Yet external affirmation matters. It emboldens the generals, reduces their fear of isolation, and complicates the efforts of ASEAN, the UN, and humanitarian actors to hold Myanmar accountable. In geopolitics, perception shapes behavior as much as capability.
The broader danger is that Trump’s speech contributes to a global climate where scapegoating the vulnerable becomes politically defensible. Across regions, governments facing economic crises or security dilemmas may find it easier to blame migrants or minorities. The Rohingya’s plight then becomes part of a wider trend—the normalization of expulsion as statecraft.
This is precisely why rhetoric at the UN matters. Words from its podium are not just fleeting soundbites; they are signals that shape norms. In the 20th century, leaders used the General Assembly to rally against apartheid, to denounce colonialism, and to call for global solidarity. Today, the same stage risks being used to justify exclusion and persecution.
ASEAN, in particular, cannot afford to be silent. Myanmar is part of the regional community, and its treatment of the Rohingya undermines ASEAN’s credibility as a body committed to peace and stability. When the language of a major power seems to embolden policies of expulsion, ASEAN must reaffirm its own principles of inclusivity and human dignity. Otherwise, the region risks complicity by silence.
Trump’s UN speech may have been aimed at shoring up his domestic political base, but its international consequences are far-reaching. For Myanmar, it sounded like a green light. For the Rohingya, it deepened the shadows of uncertainty. For the international community, it was a reminder that words can empower either protection or persecution. The choice is ours: to allow the normalization of expulsion or to defend the universality of rights.
In this sense, Trump’s address was not just another fiery speech. It was a moment that emboldened those who see minorities as expendable. Myanmar is already acting on this logic. The world must decide whether to challenge it—or to let silence and rhetoric conspire against the most vulnerable.
Phar Kim Beng, PhD, is Professor of ASEAN Studies and Director of the Institute of Internationaliation and ASEAN Studies (IINTAS) at the International Islamic University Malaysia.
Luthfy Hamzah is Senior Research Fellow at IINTAS and a specialist in trade, political economy, and strategic diplomacy in Northeast Asia.
** The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the position of Astro AWANI.
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AI Brief
- Trump's UN speech framed migration as a threat, indirectly validating exclusionary policies like Myanmar's treatment of the Rohingya.
- Myanmar has long denied the Rohingya citizenship and rights, with past violence forcing hundreds of thousands into refugee camps.
- The speech risks normalising expulsion globally, weakening human rights norms and complicating efforts to hold regimes accountable.
Yet, in effect, his speech provided an unwelcome gift to regimes bent on exclusionary nationalism. For Myanmar, which has long pursued a strategy of rendering the Rohingya stateless and unwanted, the speech was more than rhetorical—it was legitimizing.
Trump urged nations to close borders, expel foreigners, and guard against migrants “you’ve never seen before, that you have nothing in common with.” He painted migration as an existential threat, warning of countries being “ruined” or “destroyed” by outsiders. Such framing, delivered from the podium of the United
Nations, cannot be dismissed as mere political theatre. It carries symbolic weight, suggesting that great powers will not only tolerate but may tacitly endorse such exclusionary measures.
For Myanmar’s generals, who for decades have denied the Rohingya citizenship and rights, Trump’s language is validation. The Rohingya’s marginalization is deeply rooted: since the 1982 Citizenship Law, they have been stripped of recognition as one of Myanmar’s “national races,” rendering them stateless in their own homeland. Successive governments labelled them “Bengali” interlopers from Bangladesh, despite centuries of Rohingya presence in Rakhine State.
This legal exclusion escalated into systemic violence. On August 25, 2017, Myanmar’s military launched a brutal campaign in Rakhine State marked by mass killings, widespread sexual violence, and the burning of villages. Within weeks, over 700,000 Rohingya fled to Bangladesh, joining hundreds of thousands already displaced in previous waves of persecution. Human Rights Watch has since documented how, five years on, the Rohingya remain trapped between refugee camps in Bangladesh and apartheid-like conditions in Myanmar, with no justice, no freedom, and no path to citizenship.
By rebranding expulsion as national self-preservation, Myanmar’s rulers find a powerful international voice indirectly affirming their domestic policies of exclusion. The danger lies not in direct coordination—no one suggests Trump scripted Myanmar’s actions—but in the ripple effects of rhetoric. When the leader of the world’s most powerful nation normalizes the idea of expelling foreigners, authoritarian regimes hear permission. They calculate that international norms have shifted, that condemnation may be muted, and that human rights obligations are optional. For persecuted minorities like the Rohingya, the consequences are chilling.
The United Nations, established to uphold human dignity, risks being repurposed into a stage for justifying its erosion. International law rests not only on treaties and institutions but also on the power of precedent and example. If the norm of protecting minorities is abandoned at the rhetorical level, it erodes the will to act at the policy level. Trump’s speech, therefore, is not just a domestic political message, it is a global signal that undermines decades of fragile progress on human rights.
Myanmar, of course, does not require external encouragement to repress the Rohingya. Its policies of forced displacement, denial of citizenship, and violent crackdowns predate Trump’s return to the presidency. Yet external affirmation matters. It emboldens the generals, reduces their fear of isolation, and complicates the efforts of ASEAN, the UN, and humanitarian actors to hold Myanmar accountable. In geopolitics, perception shapes behavior as much as capability.
The broader danger is that Trump’s speech contributes to a global climate where scapegoating the vulnerable becomes politically defensible. Across regions, governments facing economic crises or security dilemmas may find it easier to blame migrants or minorities. The Rohingya’s plight then becomes part of a wider trend—the normalization of expulsion as statecraft.
This is precisely why rhetoric at the UN matters. Words from its podium are not just fleeting soundbites; they are signals that shape norms. In the 20th century, leaders used the General Assembly to rally against apartheid, to denounce colonialism, and to call for global solidarity. Today, the same stage risks being used to justify exclusion and persecution.
ASEAN, in particular, cannot afford to be silent. Myanmar is part of the regional community, and its treatment of the Rohingya undermines ASEAN’s credibility as a body committed to peace and stability. When the language of a major power seems to embolden policies of expulsion, ASEAN must reaffirm its own principles of inclusivity and human dignity. Otherwise, the region risks complicity by silence.
Trump’s UN speech may have been aimed at shoring up his domestic political base, but its international consequences are far-reaching. For Myanmar, it sounded like a green light. For the Rohingya, it deepened the shadows of uncertainty. For the international community, it was a reminder that words can empower either protection or persecution. The choice is ours: to allow the normalization of expulsion or to defend the universality of rights.
In this sense, Trump’s address was not just another fiery speech. It was a moment that emboldened those who see minorities as expendable. Myanmar is already acting on this logic. The world must decide whether to challenge it—or to let silence and rhetoric conspire against the most vulnerable.
Phar Kim Beng, PhD, is Professor of ASEAN Studies and Director of the Institute of Internationaliation and ASEAN Studies (IINTAS) at the International Islamic University Malaysia.
Luthfy Hamzah is Senior Research Fellow at IINTAS and a specialist in trade, political economy, and strategic diplomacy in Northeast Asia.
** The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the position of Astro AWANI.