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Military Mayhem in Myanmar: the end of a democratic experiment

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A group of monks walk in the streets of Yangoon, Myanmar’s largest city. Photo Credit: Flickr, licensed under Creative Commons.

On February 1st 2021 a coup d’état ended Myanmar’s decade-long experiment with democracy, ushering back in the ruthless military rule of the Tatmadaw. Since then, the “lady of Myanmar,” Aung San Suu Kyi, who became an icon for democracy after spending 15 years under house arrest, has been detained in an unknown location. She now faces various charges, including the possession of illegal walkie-talkies – an obvious pretext intended to keep her away from Myanmar’s political scene. Meanwhile, under the blazing sun of Myanmar, the Tatmadaw has re-established its reign of terror. Security forces have killed hundreds of opponents and injured thousands more. Authorities have also suspended most television programs and blocked access to Facebook and other social media sites.

Myanmar’s coup d’état has significant domestic and regional implications. Internally, historical ethnic divisions have seemingly softened, and formerly divided actors are now uniting against a common foe – the Tatmadaw. Regionally, the coup is sowing uncertainty throughout Myanmar’s neighboring countries, with serious consequences in two particular domains: first, the ASEAN bloc; second, China’s Belt and Road Initiative.

Ethnic minorities and the Bamar majority

 Squeezed between India and China, Myanmar is a melting pot of cultures that counts more than 135 ethnic groups within its territory, with Buddhism being the dominant religion.
Since 1962, Myanmar’s ethnic division was cleverly exploited by Tatmadaw military forces as a tool to legitimize their rule. According to their distorted narrative, a military regime is necessary to defend Myanmar from the enemies of the nation, which consist of a cabal of ethnic minorities claiming autonomy and undermining national unity. Thus, in the Tatmadaw’s words, the military forces are the real guardians of the Buddhist nation of Myanmar.

The reality is quite different. The military rule has merely instrumentalized Myanmar’s ethnic diversity in order to cling to power. The mastermind of the February coup, Senior General Min Aung Hlaing, is widely known for commanding the extermination of entire villages belonging to various ethnic minority groups such as the Shan and the Kokang, and for authorizing the ethnic cleansing of Rohingya Muslims. In such a fragmented reality, the Tatmadaw has always feared an alliance between the Bamar majority, which mainly inhabits the country’s heartlands, and ethnic minority groups, who largely inhabit border areas. Such an alliance could in fact lead the civilian population to unite against the military, undermining their rule.

Today, in the mountainous periphery of Myanmar, the Tatmadaw’s worst nightmare is coming true.

In the frontier regions, groups of armed ethnic minorities have been fighting for autonomy for decades, for them, the military brutality that Bamar anti-coup protesters have experienced since February is nothing but a continuation of the same oppression they have been enduring for decades. In this sense, ethnic minorities provide important insights on the best tactics to fight against the Tatmadaw. Thus, since February, anti-coup protesters, namely members of the Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM), have fled to the mountainous periphery of Myanmar to collaborate with ethnic armed groups. Thousands of activists are now learning from these resistance groups how to load a rifle, throw hand grenades, and assemble firebombs, de facto transforming into a guerrilla force.

People like Nerdah Bo Mya, a member of the Karen National Union (KNU) – the oldest rebel group which protects the Karen ethnic minority – are showing their solidarity to Bamar anti-coup protesters. “We have heart for these kind of people, because we have gone through this ourselves and we know what kind of pain, what kind of suffering… what kind of atrocities they’re going through, so we can put ourselves in their shoes”, said Nerdah. Similarly, many among the Bamar population are now apologizing on social media for not acknowledging the minorities’ experience of repression over the past years. The military coup has now clearly revealed to the Bamar population the real extent of Tatmadaw’s brutality, leading Myanmar’s majority to soul-search and change their perspective towards ethnic minorities.

Thus, for now, the Bamar population and ethnic minorities are united against the military regime, with both parties applying the principle of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” leaving aside old tensions to fight against a common foe. However, looking to the future, doubts arise. Although this newly-emerged unity represents a great leap forward in Myanmar’s fractured social reality, the Bamar majority and the ethnic minorities seemingly have different plans for Myanmar’s future. Anti-coup protestors want democracy under Suu Kyi, while minorities want self-determination and autonomy, thereby leaving many questions unanswered.

A Kayan woman, a sub-group of the Karen people. Women are known for wearing neck rings as part of their cultural identity. Photo Credit: Flickr, licensed under Creative Commons.

The ASEAN bloc

At a regional level, the reaction to the military coup appears slow and limited. Like never before, Myanmar’s crisis has exposed an uncomfortable truth about ASEAN: the bloc is unable to reach a cohesive response to any common problem.

On one side, Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore have criticized the use of violence against Myanmar’s civil society. On the other side, Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam have remained largely silent, which does not come as a surprise, considering that Thailand’s prime minister himself gained power after a coup in 2014. Even worse, ASEAN recently invited the mastermind of the coup itself, Senior General Min Aung Hlaing, to their official summit in Jakarta. Thus, not only did ASEAN not show any effective response, such as suspending Myanmar’s membership, but it also indirectly legitimized Myanmar’s brutal generals. In addition, after Western states applied several sanctions on trade to punish the military regime, ASEAN members undermined these efforts by continuing to trade with Myanmar. Injecting billions of dollars of investment into Tatmadaw’s business empire, they are helping to cement a de facto military-oligarchic ruling class. Paralyzed in a permanent state of indecision, ASEAN is now facing the prospect of a civil war in one of its member countries, with the potential of a disastrous regional spillover effect. And on top of this, its coordinating power is inevitably losing credibility in front of the international community.

China’s Belt and Road Initiative

The military coup has also posed serious threats to China’s Belt and Road Initiative. Before, Beijing had closely collaborated with Aung San Suu Kyi’s democratic parliament, signing various contracts for future projects in Myanmar. In 2017, the two governments agreed to the China-Myanmar Economic Corridor agreement (CMED), which included various infrastructure projects that were intended to revitalize Myanmar’s economy, while providing China with a land route to the Indian Ocean via Myanmar. This would diminish Beijing’s over-reliance on the Strait of Malacca for oil and gas imports. Now, some analysts believe that these projects will be delayed due to Myanmar’s instability.

Conclusion

Only time will tell what the future holds for Myanmar. But there is no doubt that the military coup has unleashed a sequence of effects that will have impacts not only inside the country but also across the region. On one side, the coup offers opportunities for domestic social cohesion. On the other side, it represents a testing time for the ASEAN bloc and significant instability for China’s Belt and Road Initiative.

Has Myanmar’s military overplayed its hand?

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An example of military propaganda. The Tatmadaw has long portrayed itself as the sole protector of Myanmar’s interests. Photo Credit: Immu, Licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

On 27th March, Myanmar’s powerful military (commonly known as the Tatmadaw), killed over 100 civilians protesting its 1st February overthrow of Aung San Suu Kyi’s democratically elected government. The Tatmadaw has reacted forcefully against demonstrators since the start of the protests, and this was not the first time it had killed civilians. However, the crackdown was unprecedented in its brutality. Despite the bloodshed, protestors defied the military by returning to the streets the very next day, and over a month later the protests show no sign of fading away.

The foundations of the chaos in Burma run deep. During colonial rule, the British governed the minority dominated periphery regions as self-governing frontier areas, separate from Burma proper. This divide and rule strategy saw ethnic minorities heavily recruited into the colonial army while the Bamar majority was excluded. The legacy of ethnic division was compounded by the founding of the modern Burmese state, which was largely built around the Bamar dominated army of the Burmese nationalists. The Rohingya crisis of 2015, which saw Suu Kyi, the symbol of Myanmar’s democracy, taking a nationalist line in defence of the Tatmadaw’s campaign of ethnic cleansing, emphasises just how deep ethnic divisions lie in Myanmar. Successive military regimes have exploited this ethnic dimension to remain in power, casting themselves as the defenders of the Bamar majority and promoting ethnic nationalism. Following decades of military rule, the military generals came to see themselves as the only ones who knew what was good for the country. However, the question remains, what prompted the Tatmadaw to seize power this time, and given the widespread public opposition to the coup, has it overplayed its hand?

Why did Myanmar’s military believe a coup was necessary?

The military has denied it carried out a coup and has instead claimed that it acted in defence of democracy, citing fraud and discrepancies in the 2020 general election, although the extent to which it genuinely believes this is debateable. Consequently, there are other theories as to why the Tatmadaw seized power. Its support for the democratic transition has always been contingent upon its ability to retain a high degree of influence in the country’s political system, Myanmar’s constitution reserves 25% of seats in parliament for the military and has a threshold of 75% for any constitutional changes. However, the landslide 2020 election result for Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy was seen as providing a mandate for constitutional reform and increased the pressure on the military not to stand in the way. It is no coincidence that the coup occurred the day the new parliament was due to be sworn in. It has also been suggested that powerful military chief General Min Aung Hlaing was acting to protect his personal interests. The General was due to retire in 2021 and, faced with the potential threat of international prosecution for genocide against the Rohingya, may well have acted to extend his immunity.

Why has the coup faced such resistance?

Myanmar has changed since being put on the path back to civilian rule. Reform has been slow, but Myanmar’s large young population has experienced greater personal freedoms and better access to education, information, and the rest of the world. After experiencing these freedoms, this new generation has little desire to live under the restrictive military rule of previous decades. This attitude can be seen in the prominence of the three-finger salute in images of the protests. The symbolic gesture has been widely used by young activists across South East Asia as a sign of defiance against authoritarianism. Believing it can reimpose military rule as if nothing has changed represents a significant gamble by the Tatmadaw. It is an even greater gamble to do so having just removed a popular democratic government. Aung San Suu Kyi holds a revered status in Myanmar, and further endeared herself to the people by risking her international reputation to defend Myanmar (and by extension the Tatmadaw) against accusations of genocide at the International Court of Justice. This despite her previous long imprisonment at their hands. Suu Kyi’s landslide election victory not only demonstrated her and the NLD’s enduring popularity amongst the people, but also highlighted Myanmar’s growing rejection of the Tatmadaw. The military’s proxy party won only 33 of 476 seats. Even those activists who turned away from the NLD as a result of their inaction over the Rohingya crisis have proven willing to stand alongside them in opposition to the coup.

What does this mean for Myanmar?

In the short term, the Tatmadaw is under increasing pressure from both inside and out. The regime’s initial support from Russia and China, who blocked condemnation of the coup at the UN, has waned as the crackdown has grown increasingly bloody. On 10th March both countries backed a unanimous statement from the UN Security Council denouncing the Tatmadaw’s violent response to protests. ASEAN, the regional group of Myanmar’s neighbours, is divided over the issue. However, Malaysia and Indonesia have been heavily critical, and the group has pressed Min Aung Hlaing to commit to an end to the violence. With the regime increasingly isolated internationally, Western powers have been ratcheting up the pressure. In the days before the recent crackdown, the US and UK imposed economic sanctions on Myanmar’s two vast military conglomerates. These sanctions will hurt, but it is domestically where the military faces a greater reckoning. The coup and the brutal crackdown that followed has tarnished the Tatmadaw’s image. If anger towards the military continues to rise then a growing number of people in Myanmar may begin to aspire to a future without it. Nevertheless, the Tatmadaw is unlikely to change course. For all the pressure it faces, the military has shown itself ready to use force to put down protests, and likely knows that China, although displeased, will not go as far as to abandon it internationally. Therefore, there is a good chance the military can ride out the protests and succeed in its initial objectives. Min Aung Hlaing could delay his retirement and the Tatmadaw avoid the prospect of major constitutional reform which curtails its power.

However, the generals do not appear to have considered the long-term consequences of their actions. For one, by gambling on a coup to improve its position the military has thrown away a political situation which remained immensely favourable to it, and once it reaches its self-imposed deadline for new elections in 2022, it is difficult to envisage a scenario in which it benefits. If it holds a free election, it will almost certainly lose, and face an NLD or unity government which will be empowered and unlikely to compromise following the events of the coup. On the other hand, if it attempts to retain power, it will erode what little respect and legitimacy it has left.

More significantly, by choosing to overthrow Suu Kyi’s popular and increasingly nationalistic government, the Tatmadaw has set itself at odds with its core constituency, Myanmar’s Bamar majority. For an institution which derives a large degree of legitimacy from its role as the protector of the Bamar ethnicity, the brutal suppression of the predominantly Bamar protestors makes such a mantra ring increasingly hollow. The chaos of the protests and widespread disaffection with the military unleashed by the coup has also emboldened and reenergised the country’s various ethnic militias, several of whom have stepped up their offensives, with increasing success. This is not the only way in which the Tatmadaw’s grip on power has been weakened by the effects of the coup. The military takeover and accompanying crackdown have revealed to many Bamar the true extent of the Tatmadaw’s brutality, which has had the effect of facilitating a growing understanding of the plight faced by Myanmar’s minorities. The consequence has been tentative cooperation between the Bamar dominated anti-coup movement and several of the ethnic groups fighting the military. Any reconciliation, even if limited for now, will serve to diminish the Tatmadaw’s ability to divide and rule.

In short, the February coup may well have preserved the Tatmadaw’s immediate political interests, but it has also had several major consequences for the military’s long-term prospects of retaining its entrenched position within Myanmar’s state and society. In fact, by prioritising short-term gain over long-term strategy, the coup has significantly undermined several of the key aspects which make up the Tatmadaw’s claim to legitimacy, and as a result could end up costing it far more than it stood to lose in the first place.

Bankrolling Tyranny: The Tatmadaw’s Military-Run Business Empire

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by Farley Sweatman

Tatmadaw propaganda sign outside Mandalay Palace
Source: Adam Jones/CC Search

In the early morning of February 1, 2021, the Tatmadaw (the official name for the armed forces of Myanmar) staged a coup to reclaim its status as the sole source of political power in the country by arresting dozens of key civilian politicians, including de facto head of state Aung San Suu Kyi. The Tatmadaw declared a year-long state of emergency and transferred power to its commander-in-chief, Min Aung Hlaing, effectively ending the country’s decade-old experiment with democracy. Pro-democracy protests have sprung up across the country, prompting harsh countermeasures that have led to thousands of arrests and over 700 civilian deaths. In pursing this risky course, the Tatmadaw must now contend with international condemnation alongside growing protest movements that have paralysed the economy and endangered Chinese business interests.

The military takeover took place following a general election in which the Tatmadaw-backed opposition were soundly defeated by Aung San Suu Kyi’s ruling National League for Democracy (NLD) party. Claims of widespread voter fraud and a demand for a rerun of the election have been cited by the military as the official reasoning behind the coup. As negotiated under the 2008 constitution during Myanmar’s democratic transition, the military is guaranteed control over three government ministries (including defence) and 25 percent of seats in parliament (enough to theoretically block NLD lawmakers from amending the constitution to restrict the military’s power in the future). The NLD’s electoral victory would have solidified further civilian control over the political arena and thus threatened the military’s guaranteed hold.

There are, however, deeper motives behind the Tatmadaw’s actions. Its military leadership has long nurtured a form of “crony capitalism,” an economic system in which individuals and firms with political connections and influence are given unfair advantages. In Myanmar, senior generals and officers, operating through two giant military-run conglomerates – Myanmar Economic Corporation (MEC) and Myanmar Economic Holdings Limited (MEHL) – have been able to leverage the military’s coercive power to secure preferential access to key sectors of the economy, such as the lucrative jade mining industry. This vast network of commercial interests and holdings is essentially a mechanism to project military influence across the economy and reward members for their loyalty. In 2019, these military-connected entities came under threat when the NLD secured control over the general administrative department and began to introduce laws regulating the jade and gemstone industry. The elaborate patron-client system used by the regime to maintain power hinges upon the ability to accumulate and protect sources of wealth. This is the Tatmadaw’s bottom-line.

Stationary banditry

The military’s involvement in business first began after the socialist coup of 1962 as General Ne Win moved to nationalise the economy. During this time, Tatmadaw forces were required to be self-sufficient by developing interests in local enterprises to fund their operations. This practice was gradually phased out as the Tatmadaw abandoned the planned economy – only to be replaced with military-run, “crony capitalism” as the ruling junta began privatising state industries in the early 1990s.

MEHL was established by the Ministry of Defense in 1990. In its declared objectives, the stated aims are to provide economic welfare to military personnel, war veterans, and the general public. However, in reality, most of these profits are siphoned off to secure control and generate profit for the Tatmadaw’s senior leadership and allies. According to a leaked report by activist groups Justice for Burma and Amnesty International, MEHL paid its shareholders – all of whom are active or former Tatmadaw personnel – USD 16.6 billion worth of dividends between 1990 and 2011. Similar to its counterpart, MEC was established in 1997 with the declared objectives of contributing to Myanmar’s economy, reducing defence spending, and ensuring the welfare of military personnel. Today, both MEHL and MEC operate as holding companies with business in important sectors of the national economy, including mining, banking, manufacturing, and telecommunications, tourism, and transport.

Information on the revenues of MEHL and MEC is scarce and obscure. Neither company has made its financial reports available to the public, although both were exempt from income and commercial tax between 1998 and 2011. Much of MEHL and MEC revenue bypasses formal government channels, with billions of USD unaccounted for in the mining, forestry, and oil and gas industries. In the jade sector, for instance, investigations have determined that only a small fraction of jade is officially sold through the government-run Myanmar Gems Emporium – the rest, worth tens of billions of USD, being smuggled into China each year. Tatmadaw-owned resource companies and government revenue collecting agencies also publicly disagree on the tax figures paid by MEHL and MEC and their subsidiaries. This lack of transparency suggests that much of the revenue generated by military businesses in Myanmar is not captured by the State, and instead is funneled to subsidise military operations and enrich senior Tatmadaw officials.

Follow the money

The Tatmadaw’s commercial interests were present during the country’s democratic reforms. As Myanmar transitioned towards democracy and began to open its economy in 2011, the military junta quietly began the largest sell-off of state assets in the country’s history. The assets being sold included government buildings, port facilities, mines, factories, farmland, fuel import and distribution networks, and a large share in the national airline. The vast majority of these assets fell into the hands of senior generals and their families or businessmen allied with the Tatmadaw, cementing the position of a military-oligarchic ruling class in a supposedly progressive Myanmar.

Their arrangement with the newly installed civilian government proved ideal at first. Free rein over its business empire insulated the Tatmadaw from the accountability and oversight that would normally arise from civilian control over military defense budgets. At the same time, the Tatmadaw were content to let Aung San Suu Kyi and her civilian government, as the official head of state, take international criticism for the military’s human rights abuses against ethnic minorities like the Karen and Rohingya.

In 2019, this relationship changed when the NLD gained control of the general administrative department that oversees key bureaucratic appointments. The civilian government introduced a law intended to regulate the multi-billion-dollar gemstone and jade industry, which would directly affect hidden Chinese business interests and the country’s military-linked elite. They suspended the issuing of new or extension of existing gemstone licences pending a governance review designed to tackle corruption in the sector.

In doing so, the NLD crossed a line. Civilian oversight in the jade and gemstone sector would not, on its own, have broken the military’s web of commercial interests, but would have perhaps signalled a new wave of reforms targeting the military’s wealth. Forced to relinquish control over some of its lucrative businesses, the military would have struggled to maintain its system of patronage and retain its grip over the government administration. Thus, it comes as no surprise that the Tatmadaw decided to pursue the perilous course of staging a coup against a popular elected government. The NLD’s landslide victory over the opposition likely spooked many in upper echelons of the military, including Senior General Min Aung Hlaing. It appears that, to the Tatmadaw, it is worth putting its entire fortune on the line in order to protect its sources of wealth from potential reforms by the government.

Tatmadaw coup leader General Min Aung Hlaing (front) in 2015
Source: Prachatai/CC Search

A clash of ethics and money

Revenue generated by the MEHL and MEC serves to strengthen the Tatmadaw’s autonomy from elected civilian oversight, while providing financial support that sustains Tatmadaw operations. Weakening the Tatmadaw’s grip on Myanmar’s economy has so far entailed the following approach typically employed by Western governments: economic isolation by way of sanctions against Tatmadaw entities and individuals. However, this strategy proves challenging given the expansive Chinese and Russian business interests in the country. As the Tatmadaw’s two largest arms suppliers, China and Russia have a vested interest in maintaining the status quo in Myanmar and have consequently rebuffed efforts to condemn the Tatmadaw by other members on the UN Security Council.

A new approach is needed, one that espouses disengagement from Tatmadaw associated companies. Firms in Japan, Singapore, South Korea, and other countries still maintain commercial partnerships with MEHL and MEC. These links need to be targeted and severed by their respective governments through expanded sanctions. Moreover, Western governments must promote economic ties and engagement with non-Tatmadaw companies and businesses in order to strengthen the non-Tatmadaw sector of the economy.

As the current crisis deepens in Myanmar, uncertainties remain. Effective policy against the Tatmadaw may be difficult to implement in the short term so long as martial law continues across the country. If the military does indeed pull back and release the civilian government, this may embolden ethnic rebel groups on the periphery to rise up, thereby threatening the territorial integrity of the country and its status as a union.

Book Review: ‘The Hidden History of Burma’

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by Anna Tan

 

Thant Myint-U. The Hidden History of Burma: Race, Capitalism and the Crisis of Democracy in the 21st Century. Atlantic Books, London, 2019. ISBN 978-1-78649-790-1. Pp. xi, 288. Paperback. £10.78

 

The case for peace in Myanmar (Burma) has been a tiring and relentless one. The biggest myth of all is that Burma was set to have a bright future during the dawn of its independence from the British Empire. Thant Myint-U in his latest work “The Hidden History of Burma” (2020) reminds us that the reality is far more complex. The colonial legacy of the state’s institutions and its impact on the plethora of ethnic groups across Burma’s periphery would continue to haunt its present-day problems. Most notably among these are the Rohingya crisis and Burma’s half-century struggle for democracy. The colonial era’s martial race policy stands at the forefront of these problems. Despite the great academic legacy left behind by the colonial era, Thant argues, the state was considerably weak at the time when General Aung San founded the nation. This meant that whatever great that was embedded within Burma was either purged or became stale during years of poverty. Moreover, Ne Win’s failed anti-imperialist revolution – or the pursuit of the ‘Burmese Way to Socialism’ – would further exacerbate this situation.

Towards the end of the 20th century, the socialist layer of the nation-state’s operational ideology gradually peeled away; leading to some form of a free-market system and one that according to Thant can best be described as ‘crony capitalism’. Yet, strikingly, Burma’s political reforms of the early 2010s had originally envisioned an alternative future. Here, the implementation of neoliberal policies and a non-state intervening would complete the country’s transition to a free-market system, to follow the steps of congested and inequality-ridden cities we so very often see across South East Asia today. In this regard, those easily combustible issues surrounding race and inequality are left out. The state itself does not even seem to be cognizant of it. Neither is any consideration given to the idea that one’s ethnicity can be fluid. As a result, state formation and attempted conflict resolution is stuck in a vicious cycle of bureaucracy, electoral politics, and red-tape; further fuelled by a strange concoction of neoconservatism and a fixed primordial perception regarding race and ethnicity amongst parties and actors across the political spectrum.

The blame for the sustained civil strife across various parts of the country is shared among all parties, both at home and abroad. It is Thant’s insider narrative in the book that made me realise how it is bizarre that China’s ambitions for Burma re-emerged. Initially thwarted by the reformist government of Thein Sein, those intentions came back centre stage after the conflict in Rakhine escalated to the point of genocide. Unfortunate decisions made by Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD) during peacebuilding efforts that followed their victory in the 2015 elections inflamed this situation, particularly after the Myanmar Peace Centre – consisting mostly of Thein Sein staffers – was dismissed. However, this jarring moment in history is to this day a wasted opportunity that not many in the country paid much attention to. Indeed, the urban population were very much distracted by the economic promises of the new NLD government. With more shopping centres and shinier airports in the making, less visa restrictions, and an increase in free travel, it seems that it is the bourgeoisie that gets to enjoy better, more instant luxuries. I can speak from experience that testimonials by the (upper-)middle-class of Burmese society certainly reflect this sentiment. A justifying bulwark against any criticism towards the NLD government, these promises led to ample opportunity for the resolution of civil strife in the country getting squandered; thereby further darkening a future that looks more bleak than ever.

Internationally, the foreign policy of Western governments in addressing Burma’s human rights abuses provides no room for complexity and mixed bureaucratic responses by organisations such as the United Nations over the past decade have led to drastic consequences in the peace processes throughout Burma. Their involvements with the country’s democratisation efforts and entrance into the global economy were exclusively pivoted around Aung San Suu Kyi. This narrative of the ‘lady against the generals’ paid very little attention paid to the influence of ludicrous cross-border conflicts, war economies, and the incentives of various factions – be it within the state or of the rebel groups. The former president’s sudden and wide embrace of the West was short-sighted to the extent that it made light of the impact that the participation of Ethnic Armed Organisations (EAOs) along the Sino-Burmese border could have. Suu Kyi’s government furthermore underestimated the repercussions of Western isolation on the peace deals made during the ‘21st Century PangLong Conferences’. Above all else, the young population especially, and sadly, do not seem to be able to tell the difference between the story of Burma: is it one of Suu Kyi or one of inclusivity.

Though merely stating facts, Thant’s description of the contemporary political processes in Burma is at times specked with instances that were darkly astonishing, oftentimes unintentionally comical. One of these moments includes the time when John Yettaw handed Suu Kyi the Book of Mormon, making it all the more surreal. Nevertheless, there are parts where Thant could have elaborated further, such as the impact of U Nu’s policies on the racial and social integrity of a briefly democratic Burma prior to Ne Win’s coup in 1962. However, the country’s complex web of layers stands masterfully explained in the book.

Lost is the potential of this beautiful country, so rich in natural resources, in which a deeply troubled rural citizenry resides which knows war not as an exception but as the norm. 

Most importantly, Thant demonstrates that the story of Burma’s fight for democracy is not so much as black-and-white, not a clear David-and-Goliath spectacle that we are made to believe most of the time. A particularly challenging part recounts the solemn story of a certain lady named Moe. Driven into destitution by the cascade of events following the Bush-era sanctions that shut down garment factories, her life led from unemployment to sex trafficking, only to discover herself with a diagnosis of HIV/AIDS after a hazardous, painful journey back home. These same sanctions were supported by several pro-democracy and human rights activists at home and abroad. These activists were also part of the same force that blocked the Global Fund’s humanitarian aid that was supposed to relieve HIV/AIDS and malaria outbreaks in Burma of the early 2000s, thereby cutting off all remaining hope for people like Moe. Indeed, Moe’s life is not an uncommon one for the precariat of Burma, whose rights, needs, and welfare seem to be left out of the picture entirely. While the nation emphasises the virtue of personal sacrifice for the greater good pivoted around the leader; the vast majority have little more to give. Lost is the potential of this beautiful country, so rich in natural resources, in which a deeply troubled rural citizenry resides which knows war not as an exception but as the norm. Not a glimmer of hope seems to remain in a country where Burmese identity is defined by race and ethnicity.

That is not to say that are no memorable and beautiful moments. During the peak of the Rakhine crisis in 2016, the compassion of a Buddhist monk in Rakhine that offered refuge and food to displaced civilians of the Buddhist and Muslim creed and traumatised by the violence raging outside will give any reader a chilling feeling of awe as the pages turn. The man was confronted by protesters outside his monastery for housing Muslims together with Buddhists, arguing that the protestors would have to go through him if they wish to ransack the monastery and commit violence inside. An anomaly of a preacher who truly practices a rare act of compassion could perhaps make one faintly wonder just ‘what if?’.

What kind of a future Burma will head towards we still do not know. But as Thant puts, it is truly hard to be optimistic at present. Yet understanding Burma is imperative still, in a way, as the story should provide us to rethink how Western democracies interact with authoritarian and transitory regimes in the future. It should also provide a brutal lesson for us, when aiding and advocating for democracy in contested states, to jettison the idea that one-dimensional foreign policies that prescribe a dose of sanctions followed by the introduction neoliberalism will do the trick of healing an infinitely complex, deeply conflict-ridden nation towards peace and prosperity.

This piece was originally published on the author’s personal blog, which you can find here

Anna Tan is a postgraduate student for MSc Global Affairs at King’s College London. Her research is focused on how Western human rights diplomacy affects democracy and authoritarianism in the Asia Pacific. She has previously worked for UNDP Myanmar and the American Red Cross, and is a member of the Programme Committee of the Conflict, Security and Development (CSD) Conference 2020 hosted by the Department of War Studies and the Department of International Development (DID). Anna holds a BSc in Neuroscience. You can follow her on Twitter: @AnnaTanGTW

Genocide and its Relevance Today (Part V) – Just Words? The Failure of the ‘Never Again’ Convention

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by Anna Plunkett

A group of Rohingya refugees, crossing the border into Bangladesh (Image credit: Mohammad Ponir Hossain/Reuters)

In 1994, some fifty years after the Holocaust ended, the Rwandan Genocide rocked the world; forcing us to re-evaluate the international community’s role in addressing crimes against humanity. Yet in 2017 it became clear that the call for such atrocities to happen ‘Never Again’ was more a sentiment than a commitment to the world’s most oppressed. As the world watched Rohingya villages pillaged and burned, the violence forced over half a million persons to flee. The UN failed to act, respond, or protect those in Myanmar’s Western State.

The Crisis

It was in August 2017 that the ongoing plight of the Rohingya people erupted onto international consciousness as over half a million people fled their homes and villages in Myanmar across the border to Bangladesh. In the weeks and months that followed, first-hand accounts, mobile footage, and aerial imagery provided evidence of the extent of the devastating violence and destruction, including widespread rape and torture, mass killings, and the razing of villages. These actions, conducted by the military, were condoned as part of a ‘land clearance’ operation said to be focused on the neutralisation of ethnic armed rebels operating in the area.

Whilst shocking, the warning signs of the possibility of such atrocities were there. Despite the country’s rich diversity, the Rohingya have struggled to gain legal recognition within Myanmar. The Citizenship Law of 1982 removed the nominal legal status they had held since independence within the country. Although they were eventually granted white cards, which provided them nominal rights, it also identified them as having a migrant rather than citizenship status. Moreover, these cards were revoked before the 2015 election leaving most of the community with no access to their right to vote and with no Muslim candidates being fielded for the election. Further laws restricted the Rohingya’s access to education, healthcare, or work, as well as leaving them without any right to marry and have children. If this was not enough, in 2015 the migrant boat crisis in Asia was only a warning sign of what, for the Rohingya people, was to come just a few years later in 2017.

The Response

Despite the warning signs of oppression, the international recognition of the difficulties the Rohingya faced came too little and too late. In the immediate wake of the crisis, the UN and other international organisations were left paralysed after Myanmar refused to grant access to the affected region or officially acknowledge the events unfolding there. Despite international outcry and pressure being placed on the newly elected government, the violence continued unabated. On the international level, a lack of consensus within the UN Security Council left its international mechanisms unable to respond effectively to the ongoing crisis.

The UN response was further limited in-country by internal struggles. The UN Special Rapporteur Yanghee Lee, who can no longer enter the country, has struggled to lead and complete effective monitoring on Myanmar’s human rights situation due to ongoing barred access to affected communities. Moreover, in 2017 the Resident Coordinator of the UN Country Team in Myanmar was rotated out after the state government raised complaints with regards to suspected bias. Although a UN Special Envoy has since been deployed and the Security Council delegation visit to Myanmar conducted in May 2018 went ahead, access is still limited with most negotiations held in the capital Naypyidaw, far away from the realities of Rakhine.

Where are we now

It took almost a year for the reality of the Rohingya situation to be officially recognised. The UN report summarising the fact-finding missions finally identified what many in the human rights community had been labelling it for over a year, accusing the Myanmar military of the Rohingya genocide.  This is a claim the Myanmar government continues to refute.

Investigations continue, and in November 2019, The Gambia filed a lawsuit with the International Court of Justice on the crimes of genocide against Myanmar. The case was heard in The Hague the following month with Daw Aung San Suu Kyi representing and defending Myanmar against the lawsuit. This event, controversially, presented a disturbing portrait of the Nobel Peace Prize Winner and previously world-renowned human rights activist. The final verdict may take months or years to be read.

Whilst there has been limited success in reaching a sustainable solution to the ongoing plight of the Rohingya, over the last year there has been increasing movement towards some cooperation. In October 2018, Myanmar and Bangladesh agreed on a repatriation programme for the refugees. Yet few Rohingya have shown willingness or even interest in returning, with no guarantee of access to citizenship or protection from the military should they do so.  Further, the continued refusal of the government to identify the group as Rohingya, or to accept as valid accusations of crimes against humanity or genocide, highlights an unwillingness to compromise or cooperate with either the affected people or the international community to resolve this deadlock.

A reflection on the utility of the Genocide Convention

An independent report into the UN’s handling of the Rohingya Crisis has identified ‘systematic and structural failures’ to protect the Rohingya people. We are not merely witnessing an unfolding tragedy in the mountains between Myanmar and Bangladesh, even one on a scale we never thought possible again. More significantly, this episode demonstrates the difficulties and failures of the UN to protect the world’s oppressed populations.

These failures highlight one of the most structural obstacles facing the UN – the willingness of its member states to cooperate. Myanmar is a member of the UN and despite not signing the Rome Statute, is still a signatory on the 1948 Genocide Convention. Their engagement and acceptance of international law is intermittent and limits the ability of the international community to cooperate and engage in Myanmar. Demonstrably, the presence and acceptance of UN policies to protect minority communities from state oppression, namely the Genocide Convention and Responsibility to Protect, have proven inconsequential. In the face of ‘Never Again,’ we have indeed stood by and observed such crimes occur. The effectiveness of UN’s policy, for all its good intentions, is dependent on the support and acquiescence of the host state and where this is not provided, neither is the protection of the world’s most vulnerable.

Anna is a doctoral researcher at the Department of War Studies, King’s College London. She received her BA in Politics and Economics from the University of York, before receiving a scholarship to continue her studies at York with an MA in Post-War Recovery. She was the recipient of the Guido Galli Award for her MA dissertation. Her primary interests include conflict and democracy at the sub-national level, understanding how various political orders are impacted by transitions at the sub-national level.