Insight Myanmar

“I think Tatmadaw is a place where soldiers and their families have lost their human rights,” Su Thit asserts. Her bold criticism of Myanmar's military is somewhat unusual because her husband was one of the several hundred thousand soldiers employed by the Tatmadaw.  The couple had enjoyed beginning their adult lives in a transitioning democracy. In a free society, the military would have its rightful place in society, and so at first, they did not need to choose sides between the Tatmadaw and the country’s evolving democratic reforms. But that all changed the moment the coup was launched.Su Thit and Htet Myat committed early on to joining the Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM). They had to endure great risk and discomfort to get to safety. Their life now is a challenge: without any belongings, having lost many friends, and unable to see family, they live under challenging conditions; on some days, she doesn't even have enough water. And yet, they are not just focused on trying to get by, but doing everything they can to encourage more soldiers and their families to leave their posts. Su Thit set up an organization called “Spouses of People’s Soldiers,” which supports military wives in encouraging their husbands to defect, and helps them establish a life outside the Tatmadaw. They also provide opportunities for those who have decided to defect, as they begin to build a new life. Su Thit has been able to receive enough donations to support over 50 families!Su Thit’s organization is run and supported almost entirely by Burmese in-country, and she admits to being slightly perplexed—and feeling isolated—by the lack of support she has received from foreigners, especially those who have long lived and worked in Myanmar, many of whom she had counted as friends. This is another important reason that our platform is so committed to bringing her story to listeners around the world. “Our revolution is close to victory,” Su Thit assures us. With increased defections, “the military can have all the guns in the world, but if there are no soldiers left to use them, we win.”

Like so many other spiritual seekers from the West, Kim Shelton and her husband were attracted to Myanmar by the opportunities that the country presents for developing a deeper Buddhist practice. Kim’s experience there inspired her to create a feature-length documentary, One Thousand Mothers, which examines life in a Buddhist nunnery in the Sagaing Hills.Kim learned that many girls became nuns due to poverty, conflict, or difficult family circumstances, and so the decision to ordain is not necessarily because of spiritual yearning. The young nuns in the film honestly and insightfully discuss both the value of the renunciate’s life, and the alluring attractions of the mundane world. One scene depicts a girl who has left the nunnery, and returns for a dialog with her nun friends, wearing make-up, earrings, etc. The camera captures the fascinating conversation that ensues about the relative merits of lay versus worldly life. The film does not shy away from the more challenging life that Myanmar’s nuns have in contrast to monks. One scene about alms round depicts monks receiving hot spoonsful of cooked rice and nuns getting only small pinches of dry rice.Kim was delighted when the Abbess herself accepted the invitation to be interviewed. She had never been on camera before, and the experience was memorable for everyone involved.  In one of the movie’s more memorable scenes, the Abbess admitted that the presence of the film crew was a disruption to the discipline and education they try to instill in the nuns, yet affirmed that it would all be worthwhile in the end if the film enabled foreigners to learn more about the Buddha’s teachings.One Thousand Mothers provides viewers with a unique opportunity to see the inner workings of a living Buddhist nunnery. The end result is that the nun’s life in Myanmar is authentically portrayed, without falling into the trap of Western exotification, and the nuns interviewed on screen are extremely forthcoming, providing a glimpse into the very minds of these renunciates.

When films examine a subject in detail, it’s sometimes described as a “meditation on…” that particular theme. Golden Kingdom, a 2015 film by Brian Perkins, fits this expression in more ways than one.Brian himself is a dedicated meditator, which affected the artistic choices he made as director. For example, Brian and his crew slept in the monastery for the duration of the shoot, and he spent every morning meditating before he started filming. This meditative approach also gave him the space to linger on certain shots, encouraging a patience on the part of the viewer.Golden Kingdom tells the story of four Buddhist novices in Shan State, whose Sayadaw is called away on urgent business, leaving them alone in a remote monastery. The plot then takes a dark turn when conflict breaks out, and survival becomes the central issue. But the story arc is not the typical, linear/logical structure of Western narratives; the workings of karma are acknowledged, and Burmese folk elements begin to blend into reality, along with a childlike perspective that creeps in as a way to shape the audience’s understanding of what is taking place.The genesis of the film is a story in itself. Brian had visited Myanmar some years previously as a backpacker, and stumbled on that monastery. The setting inspired a movie full-blown in his head.  However, turning his dream into a reality was anything but easy. In making his preparations to return, Brian found himself on a government blacklist. But he eventually found a way in, with just a one-week visa, and his crew had to disassemble and smuggle in much of the operating equipment. It was a long hike from the nearest town, and everything had to be hauled in on bamboo poles, including generators because the remote monastery didn’t have electricity.Once the film was completed, the digital files were copied on hard disks, and smuggled out by friends unaffiliated with the movie. Meanwhile, one of his translators tried to extort him, and Brian had overstayed his visa, so had to pay a “fixer” to be able to exit the country. Still, he feels it was all easily worth it in the end.

Kenneth Wong, a Burmese language instructor at UC Berkeley, has spent a lifetime studying the history of Burmese films, and is one of the organizers of the Burma Spring Benefit Film Festival. He grew up in Yangon half a century ago and remembers the formulaic, romantic comedies that the Burmese movie industry churned out each year, escapist films that rarely touched on relevant social issues. There were also Bollywood movies and American blockbusters that attracted massively audiences. “I have a feeling that there were a lot of people who, if they had been given the chance to make films, they could have made really great films that were on par with foreign films, but they just weren't able to,” he remarks sadly.Everything changed with the democratic transition of the last decade, when films no longer had to pass the scrutiny of the all-powerful Censor Board. It was like a finger removed from the dike, an artistic explosion where artists could now express themselves without fear of punishment.While independent films started to take off in that more open artistic climate, Kenneth was especially impressed by the growth of locally made documentaries, which began to take on issues of social justice, ethnic minority rights, and LGBTQ issues. “Those are the sort of things that previously you couldn't even talk about openly in teashops,” he notes.And what about the stars who contributed their talents to that period of artistic blooming? While a handful have openly sided with the military and others have only attended a few rallies briefly in order to take selfies that promote their brands, others have made incredible sacrifices. Examples include Hta Hta Thet, a former beauty queen who has since joined a People’s Defense Force team, or Paing Takhon, a movie star and model who was recently sentenced to three years for his activism.

For her first post-coup documentary, Padauk: Myanmar Spring, Jeanne Hallacy’s team employed a technique called “in-depth personal storytelling,” and the results were simply stunning.  It allows the viewer a much more intimate look into how the movement—and the ensuing crackdown—developed. Padauk is one of many films featured in the Burma Spring Benefit Film Festival, a virtual streaming event with all proceeds going to humanitarian projects across Myanmar.Jeanne describes her work as rooted in the ethos of non-violence, but she also admits she is in no position to judge the move to armed resistance, noting the past 70 years of internal conflict and civil war in the country, along with the more recent outright theft of the government on the part of the military.She also heaps much praise on local journalists who are risking everything to continue to share the truth of the military’s aggressions to the world, especially those operating in ethnic regions. She describes one such local media outfit which had its offices raided by soldiers, who had to run away to avoid arrest and are now continuing their reporting from deep underground.Jeanne sees a cause for optimism in spite of everything, noting a unity she had not witnessed in all her years visiting the country. In one of the film’s more powerful scenes, an ethnic Bamar woman expresses her guilt and regret at not doing more to understand the suffering of the country’s ethnic minority communities before the coup. Her confession is symbolic of a much broader reckoning taking place within the Bamar majority.One of Jeanne’s quotes sums up the silver lining inside the country’s present, very dark cloud. “For the first time ever, I see a much-heightened awareness among the urban sectors of young people, And not just young people, but middle-aged people, civil servants… They are now willing to take the hands of their ethnic sisters and brothers, Rohingya sisters and brothers, and say, ‘We are one. We are united we are together, and we will end this military rule together.’ That's what's different.”

Little T’s ongoing nightmare started, as it did for so many Burmese people, with the violent coup launched last year by the military. Soon, the first peaceful mass protests hit the streets. Besides organizing some of the protests, the cadre of protesters Little T was involved with also helped in other important ways, such as releasing statements in both Burmese and English for various media outlets, encouraging people to join the protests through social media, and establishing safe houses.The peaceful mass protests continued for several weeks, and were gradually gaining steam when the military chose to crack down, violently. Little T was shocked that the soldiers responded with live ammunition, not rubber bullets; protesters went scattering in all directions, running for their lives, taking cover or shelter wherever it could be found.With the streets becoming so dangerous, and homes providing little safety, Little T’s group has had to continue to adjust as the conflict has escalated. Many of her team having fled or gone into hiding, and the support work they can do has branched out in several ways: supporting undercover journalists, taking care of the families of “fallen heroes,” helping at IDP (Internally Displaced Persons) camps, and aiding government workers who have joined the Civil Disobedience Movement.These tense situation, constant danger and frequent moves have been very challenging for Little T’s physical and mental health. At one point, soldiers raided an apartment right above the one she was staying in. It hit her that every phone conversation she had with her parents could turn out to be the last.“But then I asked myself the question,” she recalls, “‘Who asked you to join this movement?’” And she realized she had because it was the right thing to do. So she is willing to try and persevere.

“My own feelings would be that it would be good for Sitagu Sayadaw to leave the country and then speak out [against the military]. If he speaks out now, he would probably be arrested immediately.”Thus says Bhikkhu Cintita to preface his take on the controversies now swirling around Myanmar’s most famous living Buddhist monk, whose words and deeds since the coup have caused so much angst among the Burmese people. A long-time American scholar monk, he comes across as honest, open, nuanced, empathetic and even-keeled, and to a degree that is quite remarkable.Bhikkhu Cintita describes Sitagu Sayadaw as a kind of “Renaissance Man,” known in Myanmar as the “monk who gets things done.” There is no denying the enormous number of good works Sitagu has accomplished over the years, and his dedication to continuing to support both Dhamma projects and humanitarian missions across the country. Still, this record is mixed with a series of confounding incidents over the past few years, and coupled with his more controversial actions since the coup, many Burmese have interpreted his behavior as tacit support of the military. This has given rise to the extremely unusual situation of the laity publicly calling out this senior monk who was once so revered.  Bhikkhu Cintita picks his way through this minefield with honesty, openness, and skillful discernment. Having spent several years working on a biography of Sitagu Sayadaw, Bhikkhu Cintita provides context where he finds it lacking in the public discourse, and traces the arc of Sitagu’s political entanglement with the generals. In some cases, he frankly expresses astonishment at, and outright disappointment in, his preceptor. In other cases, he talks about how Sitagu’s actions might have been misconstrued by those who haven’t followed him as closely. In yet others, he describes a mix of the two. Even in those cases where he feels Sitagu’s actions or words might have been misunderstood, or their context not sufficiently taken into account, Bhikkhu Cintita empathetically acknowledges how and why the Burmese people have become so disappointed and angry, and how people might not be so interested in these nuances explain why this or that particular thing was said or done.

When Chuu Wai Nyein was just eighteen years old, she was with her sister at a Mandalay teashop. As they were leaving, a man sexually assaulted her sister. The event deeply traumatized them, and Chuu was horrified to learn this was not an uncommon occurrence for women in Myanmar, and the typical response was equally troubling: basically, if something happens, just stay quiet about it. Chuu decided she would work to address the relative powerlessness of women in Burmese culture. She eventually found her voice through painting. When the coup first happened, it was still relatively safe for people to assemble in non-violent gatherings outside. Chuu’s artistic skills were put to good use at demonstrations making signs that became very popular, even catching the eye of foreign journalists and observers. Long lines would form as protestors waited for her to make their personal signs. She transformed her studio apartment into a kind of warehouse, and began selling artwork on her Facebook page, with all funds going to support the Civil Disobedience Movement.But one day, the military chose to respond to a peaceful protest with force, and their crackdown sent Chuu and all her friends literally running for their lives. Moreover, it was clear that she urgently needed to empty her apartment of all protest-related material. This was tense and very dangerous work, with soldiers camped out on nearly every corner. Fortunately, she and her friends managed to clear out all the artwork just in time, as only a few days later, a dozen soldiers appeared at her door. Following this close call, Chuu realized that she could do more for the democracy movement by relocating to a place of safety, where she could speak freely. So she decided to go to France.The transition there was not easy, but Chuu adapted. She connected with some galleries, and also developed her own kind of performance art to highlight the coup, giving performances in front of the Louvre and Montmatre. Her work has been featured both in Time and on BBC. But her heart remains with the Burmese people. From afar, she appreciates her home country as never before. She is already looking beyond what she regards as an eventual victory, towards the new Myanmar she hopes to see, one which will bring female empowerment into the Burmese cultural mainstream. 

The situation in Myanmar continues to be intolerable. Day by day innocent civilians are being killed, maimed, starved, and forced from their homes, and the military continues their campaign of terror. The need for financial support is a dire one, in so many ways. The Art Against Tyranny auction was held to support the Burmese people in this time of great need. Using art to combat tyranny might feel somewhat dissonant. But art in whatever form is essentially communication that expresses the human condition. It is through art that Burmese rappers, painters, poets, graffiti artists, video editors, and others have expressed their opposition to the junta, and inspired their compatriots to continue their march to ultimate victory. It is through art that the true horror and carnage of the military's reign of terror can be conveyed to people all over the world.A New York City art gallery graciously donated its space for free to showcase revolutionary art from Myanmar artists, in order to highlight the plight of the Myanmar people. And virtually, artists from around the world have united through their art to fight against dictatorship, oppression, terror, and tyranny. Some pieces on display today are biting, while others are hauntingly beautiful…but all of it is inspiring.Please take time to see what on display, listen to artists speak of their work, and maybe buy an exquisite piece for a good cause. The more money raised, the more lives saved, and the sooner the military's campaign of death and destruction will end.

Moe, a photojournalist, has long chronicled the inhumane injustices that the Tatmadaw had committed in his country. From the jade mines of Kachin to the Rohingya camps in Rakhine, he had seen first-hand how ruthless and evil the regime could be.His first fame came in the form of pictures he took of Aung San Suu Kyi after she had been released from house arrest, and was starting to campaign in 2012. He later exposed the horrible conditions at the lucrative jade mines region of Kachin state. After that, Moe began reporting on the unfolding Rohyinga situation. In his reporting, Moe managed something that very few journalists had been able to do for the Bamar people, in that challenging and complex situation: humanize the Rohingya.When the February coup hit, Moe was faced with a somewhat unique decision: whether to document events as an objective reporter, or join in the resistance as an activist. He chose to be a journalist, and started taking pictures that very afternoon. He tried to trained himself to “just focus in my viewfinder and try to capture what's happening in the best way possible of the atrocities. But there were times where I couldn't make it. It was too intense and I couldn’t keep shooting.”Moe’s archive of work was recently recognized by the prestigious Bayeux War Correspondents in Paris, who awarded him first prize for his photojournalism. Ironically, he had to accept the award anonymously for security reasons, preventing him from receiving well-deserved, widespread recognition (at least for now) for his high achievements in the field he has devoted his life to.And while he could have decided to remain in the safety and security of France, he chose to return to Myanmar to continue his work to document the country’s continuing revolution so that the world may see. He believes that the Burmese people will soon be triumphant, and he wants to be there to take their pictures when they are!