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Why must Myanmar take the strategic, non-violent path?

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Non-violent protest in Myanmar holds a sign reading, “My ex is bad. But Myanmar military is worse”. Photo Credit: Thu Tun, used under Creative Commons.

Editor’s Note:  The author of this article has requested anonymity. After review by Strife’s Managing Board, this article is being published anonymously in accordance with our documented Publication Ethics.

The Machiavellian question of whether it is better for the prince to be loved or feared can be applied to Myanmar’s military – the Tatmadaw. Could the Tatmadaw ever be loved? To most outsiders, it is a brutal, unaccountable and corrupt institution. And this may indeed be the case. A country’s military should be professional and politically neutral, with the sole purpose of defending the sovereign against foreign invaders. They should never turn their guns on their own people nor govern the country in any capacity except security-related matters.

However, Myanmar is far from an ideal republic. There is such a huge gap between the Tatmadaw’s actual behaviour and how it ought to behave that it is pointless judging it on moral grounds. The more insightful question is why, despite numerous massive popular uprisings since the Tatmadaw’s inception, haven’t we seen any significant loyalty shifts within the institution? The Tatmadaw has survived the decades-long dictatorships of General Ne Win and Senior General Than Shwe without showing any signs of major internal loyalty shifts.

The past six decades of mostly quasi-military rule have not been short of mass popular uprisings either. There were the University of Rangoon students protesting against military rule in 1962, the waves of protests from economic grievances in the 1970s, protest over U Thant’s burial in 1974, the infamous 8888 uprising in 1988, the Saffron Revolution in 2007 and the current crisis. All these movements were brutally crushed yet failed to cause any significant loyalty shifts within the Tatmadaw. Would another potential dictatorship, led by Senior General Min Aung Hlaing, be any different this time?

Continual conflict on all sides

The Tatmadaw is understandably far more paranoid than other militaries. Since its founding, the Tatmadaw has fought the British and the Japanese for independence, the Burmese Communist Party, a huge number of ethnic insurgencies, the Kuomintang, and drug lords, all while attempting to consolidate the state after independence. In 1949, just a year after independence and following the rebellion of the Burmese communists and the Karen, large swathes of countryside and suburbs of the then-capital Rangoon were in the hands of either the Burmese Communist Party or Karen rebels. It is from this position of weakness that the Tatmadaw reasserted territorial control over the country.

The Tatmadaw have fought non-stop bloody wars on multiple fronts, in malaria-infested jungles and difficult terrain, against a multitude of rebellions and adversaries, some with superior resources and weapons. It is in this context of continual uprisings that the absence of internal loyalty shifts and the brutal, uncompromisable Tatmadaw must be understood. Whatever internal divisions exist within it, when faced with any force threatening to jeopardise its mission of preventing the disintegration of the Myanmar union, the Tatmadaw closes ranks and faces the common enemy. Regardless of which dictator is in charge, the Tatmadaw’s history is one of counter-insurgencies preventing the disintegration of the union.

The means of nation-building and counter-insurgency are inherently conflicting, but the ends can be surprisingly in harmony. Counter-insurgency serves to preserve sovereignty and territorial integrity – prerequisites for state-building. As battle-hardened soldiers, the Tatmadaw will sacrifice most things over territorial control and integrity. Their baptism in the harsh realities of the battlefields against a multitude of adversaries in difficult environments taught them that fear is more reliable than love. As Machiavelli put it, love is fickle while fear is constant.

Nevertheless, the Tatmadaw must understand that nation-building is not simply a counter-insurgency project. Winning hearts and minds is as important as their tried and trusted ‘four-cuts’ or scorched-earth strategies.

“Tatmadaw and the People … Crush All Those Harming the Union” – Sign outside Mandalay Palace – Mandalay – Myanmar. Photo Credit: Adam Jones, Ph.D, used under Creative Commons.

Wasted opportunity

It is a great pity that the Tatmadaw missed the opportunity to be both feared and loved at the same time, respected rather than loathed by the majority today. A beloved yet feared Tatmadaw could have served both counter-insurgency and nation-building objectives. Aung San Suu Kyi held the key to this. She will go down in history as an extraordinary lady, a once-in-a-generation figure. She has natural charm, charisma and eloquence, and readily elicits virtually unconditional popular support, regardless of her government’s performance. How much of her popularity stems from her persona, her struggle against the Tatmadaw or the people’s deep dislike of the Tatmadaw is irrelevant. What is relevant is that her popularity extends across ethnic boundaries, except for the Arakanese. This is critical for a country such as Myanmar, where state-building has been challenged from the start by deep ethnolinguistic cleavages and multiple simultaneous, militarised and ethnic-based self-determination claims. Any meaningful portion of ethnic minorities’ love for Aung San Suu Kyi, paired with the Tatmadaw’s military might, could have been a perfect match. Their combined powers of seduction and coercion, love and fear, could have been harnessed towards the dual projects of state-building and counter-insurgency, gaining legitimacy from meaningful support of ethnic minorities.

There is nothing fundamentally incompatible between Aung San Suu Kyi and the Tatmadaw that would have doomed their cooperation from the start. Ironically, they share a similar Burmese Buddhist ethnonationalist state view for Myanmar and an authoritarian hands-on management persona. Their inability to work together stems rather from egoistic factors. Why ego is the greatest enemy to the peace process in Myanmar deserves a detailed discussion. But Myanmar now has to deal with the more pressing issue of the increasingly violent resistance.

The strategic advantage of non-violence

People understandably were aggrieved when they felt the 2020 elections were stolen from them. Being emotional and angry are natural reactions in such circumstances. But fighting violence with violence gives the weaker side nothing to gain but emotional venting and, in extreme circumstances, martyrdom, while more innocent people die. What good comes from taking the violent resistance path if it means to play the martyr, gain public sympathy, and in the process, the young lose their chance to outlive the generals they so despise and be the change themselves in years to come?

This does not mean that the seemingly weak have no way to win against the strong and get the results they want.

Aung San Suu Kyi could single-handedly take on the Tatmadaw in a strategic, non-violent manner. Her non-violent struggle for democracy from the 1990s to the 2000s ultimately led to the Tatmadaw’s voluntary democratic transition in 2011 after two decades of junta rule. This gave rise to the most prosperous period since independence.

Violence is often condoned only as a last resort in a desperate situation; a necessary evil as a means to an end. However, the idea of violence as an effective way to win concessions from a repressive regime does not stand up to research. Unless a genocide is occurring, non-violence almost always has a strategic advantage over violent resistance. The ethical and security barriers to resistance participation are always lower for non-violent resistance than for insurgencies or terror tactics. Those engaging in non-violent movements are more likely to gain sympathy and credibility from potential local and international partners or supporters and, more importantly, from the ruling elites. The sympathy and credibility earned from a non-violent struggle create loyalty shifts within security forces that are better than violent resistance, which would create an ‘us-against-them’ bunker mentality in an already paranoid, disliked and isolated Tatmadaw.

Studies have shown that non-violent resistance campaigns are much more effective than violent ones at achieving their objectives. Chenoweth and Stephan’s critically acclaimed research on non-violent civil resistance uncovered exactly that. They found that countries in which there were non-violent campaigns were about ten times more likely to transition to democracies within five years, compared to countries in which there were violent campaigns – whether the campaigns succeeded or failed. Even when non-violent campaigning appears to fail, there is increased potential for democracy over time. This is not the case for failed insurgencies. Transitions that occur in the wake of successful non-violent resistance movements create more durable, internally peaceful democracies than those provoked by violent insurgencies. On the other hand, when violent insurgencies succeed, the country is far less likely to become democratic and more likely to return to civil war.

Despite how non-violent resistance may appear to be ineffective in a complex country such as Myanmar, it still has to be chosen because it is more effective than violence in eventually getting results. The International Center on Nonviolent Conflict provides Burmese translated online resources illustrating such non-violent resistance methods.

On the brink of disaster

One may argue that Myanmar has already been in violent conflict for decades and any additional violence would make no difference. This argument is dangerous because Myanmar has all the hallmarks of a conflict trap of genocidal proportions, with humanitarian consequences rivalling any crisis in history. One just has to look at its natural resources and drug production to fuel conflicts, its high numbers of ethnic armed groups, the ethnic and religious frictions, and the hilly and mountainous terrain conducive to a war of attrition. Add to that Myanmar’s geopolitical location with its potential to become a battlefield for proxy wars of the world and regional superpowers, weak state institutions, historical tendencies towards violence, poverty, and endemic corruption. Even if the increasingly violent resistance were to cause such damage to the Tatmadaw that confidence was shaken among the ranks and a significant split occurred, the resulting power vacuum would lead to a full-blown civil war. The ethnic armed groups would likely be drawn into the conflict from the highlands down the Irrawaddy valley, with their different alliances and agendas, with every person for themselves, adding to the numerous ongoing humanitarian crises.

Mae La refugee camp since 1984, Tak, Thailand. Photo Credit: Mikhail Esteves, used under Creative Commons.

Non-violence – the only viable option

Violent resistance provokes overreaction from the Tatmadaw, resulting in more grievances and loss of lives and thus more overreaction in return. History teaches us countless lessons of violence begetting violence. Therefore, one should ask if a military solution could ever be appropriate for not only the ongoing anti-regime movement but also the endless ethnic conflict? Successful insurgencies or guerrilla campaigns mostly rely on external sponsors and ultimately winning the war of attrition. Any support would have to come from bordering countries, and it is unlikely that China, Bangladesh, India, Laos or Thailand would support a violent campaign in Myanmar.

There is the option to continue the war of attrition, but as Sun Tzu said in “The Art of War”, no state has benefited from prolonged warfare, and victory without fighting is the epitome of military strategy. Non-violent resistance campaigns are more effective in achieving results, and once they have succeeded, are more likely to establish democratic regimes with a lower probability of a relapse into civil war. Myanmar has suffered enough from a never-ending war of attrition since 1949 and the only path towards quality peace is non-violence.

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