Insight Myanmar

The minute that the military took over on February 1st, Hassan was under no illusions as to what was in store. “I never believed we could win without non-violence, because I know [the military],” he said. Hassan’s answer was interrupted by a cough. He recently contracted COVID, and was only beginning to recover at the time of this interview.But while much of the population had no way to escape the oppression and terror that awaited them, Hassan did. He had grown up wealthy, and at the time of the coup was operating a string of successful businesses. “If you have money, you can build a good relationship between you and military.” This was certainly true for his family, who developed close ties with senior military leaders. It might come as a surprise that Hassan’s family, being Muslim, could be on good terms with the Burmese military, by now globally famous for its Islamophobia and Rohingya atrocities. However, Hassan, says, “The military, they have no religion! Trust me, they have only money and power.” Hassan has been helping people throughout the country, venturing into the deepest slums as well as the remote countryside. He has used his own personal funds to support thousands of CDM workers as well as PDF fighters, and begun to fundraise from foreign friends abroad to expand his work. For safety, he works alone, which often makes even the travel to those remote areas challenging enough, besides the dangers inherent in his work.Hassan believes the only way the Burmese people can ultimately win is by an influx of foreign support, including arms and military training. But he acknowledges the likelihood of this is low. And without it, the Burmese people have only their determination and endurance, and as long as they can maintain it, a sense of unity. In a country that has long been divided by ethnicity, region, and religion, Hassan now feels “there is no separation.”

Marlar has spent years researching gender studies, women’s rights, and violence against women in Burmese society. She notes that besides Myanmar being a patriarchal culture, there is the Burmese Buddhist belief of “pon,”which refers to the good karma inherently bestowed upon men. Due to pon, Marlar is prevented from meditating in certain places in Shwedagon Pagoda, which led her as a girl to wonder if even the lowest male thief has more merit than she or any other woman does in Burma.Marlar acknowledges that her critique of the ways in which Burmese women are marginalized flies in the face over a century of writings that in fact claim the opposite. Colonial British literature highlighted the greater freedoms they observed among Burmese women than in societies in other colonial lands. And more recently, several notable Burmese female writers, such as Ma Thanegi and Mi Mi Khaing, have made similar claims, pushing a theory of agency and independence for Burmese women. But Marlar claims they are writing from a place of privilege that is more indicative of their own circumstances, and at the expense of understanding the lived reality of the vast majority of other women across the country. Marlar notes that more recently, technology and the Internet have connected the Burmese people to the rest of the world, allowing the #MeToo movement to take off in Myanmar. In her view, any potential solution needs to be holistic, bringing together family, community, and culture to end this destructive cycle. She has worked with both community organizations and legislators prior to the coup on a watershed law punishing violence against women, but it was not passed, and she feels that part of the reason was that the Rohingya crisis monopolized the NLD’s attention. She also places blame squarely on Aung San Suu Kyi for not being a real feminist leader.On the sensitive topic of rape, Marlar explains that one of the main reasons it goes underreported is out of shame. However in Myanmar, there not only is shame for the woman, but also the male relatives, who feel emasculated for failing to properly protect them. This is why rape is a favored tactic of the Tatmadaw, as it undermines the pride and morale of the men they are fighting. As challenging as Marlar’s struggle for gender rights have been, nothing compares to the current state since the coup was launched, which she calls a total “nightmare in which basic human rights have disappeared. 

In Myanmar, we know that the coup has been an on-going nightmare since February, and more recently there has been a sharp, Delta-driven Covid spike that the military leadership not only can’t control, but seems driven to exacerbate. People there have started referring to the double crises as “Coupvid”, a term which accurately reflects the obstacles the Burmese people face in just being able to survive day-to-day in these challenging times. In this episode, our three guests discuss what daily life has been like during Coupvid, the possible long-term impacts of this trauma on the population, and what we can do from our own places of safety to show solidarity and support.Alyson and Sandra are medical students living in the US. They are Chinese-Burmese members of the Myanmar diaspora, experiencing Coupvid from two directions: worried about family still in Myanmar and as workers in the medical community. Both young women have been advocating on behalf of striking healthcare workers in Myanmar since February, supporting fundraisers to get critical supplies, and expressing solidarity when the Tatmadaw started targeting and arresting healthcare workers.“Michaela”, using an alias for extra security, is currently living in Yangon. She and her roommate contracted COVID-19 in July, shortly after friends notified them that they had tested positive. Michaela shares her personal story of surviving COVID-19 and nursing her roommate back to health at the same time, as well as the fear and uncertainty that she and many others face when making decisions with limited information, and no access to healthcare.

The ending line of Jessica Mudditt’s book, Our Home In Myanmar, puts a startling cap on her account of her life in Yangon in the 2010s. She writes, “Myanmar’s sudden returned to a dictatorship means that I have inadvertently written a history book.” This is the subject of the current episode, which charts Jessica’s hard-won attempts to live in Myanmar during the last decade.Jessica was primarily motivated to come to Myanmar to witness and report on the 2015 election, arriving a full three years in advance in order to be better positioned to understand that historic event. The Burmese people’s jubilation over those election results of course ended with a crash in 2021.   Jessica has struggled to understand the extremes of humanity that are found in Myanmar. “I've never understood how you can have these two types of people in one geographic area,” she says. “You have these uncouth brutes who have no humanity. And then you have some of the most gentle people in the world....”Of all the ongoing tragedies now facing Myanmar, the one that particularly grabs at her heart is the wholesale destruction of the journalism field. She bore witness to the tentative growth of an entire field as state censorship eased. It was exciting to see young Burmese reporters and photographers exploring what was becoming possible… and yet now this has all been crushed, with so many journalists on the run, imprisoned, or killed.Still, Jessica reflects on the situation with optimism. “I believe that the people will get there in the end, because they are so determined… The alternative is to live a life of total darkness…I've heard people say, ‘Let's clear the decks of the NLD as well. Let's start again, build from the bottom, and a society that's inclusive, and we can avoid some of the mistakes of the past.’”

There are several images that will forever be seared into the mind of the Burmese hip hop artist known as 882021; pictures and videos that he will never be able to unsee, like soldiers charging at protesters, or thugs dressed in monks’ robes cracking car windows with crowbars. 882021 references these grim scenes not only in his music, but also in the artwork in his music videos. He is one of many artists using their creative gifts to resist the military coup in Myanmar.By choosing to be so bold in his lyrics, his life is at risk, and so he quite literally made a new name for himself—actually, a number. The six digits he now identifies himself as represent both the dates of the 1988 revolution and the current resistance movement, and the digits that make up the hexadecimal number for the web color of dried blood—a color he has unfortunately become all-too-familiar with in real life since the February coup.882021 learned Mahasi meditation during his days as a monk. But as valuable as he finds the Buddha’s teachings, he prioritizes freedom of expression in a traditional, conservative society where religious mores often guide artistic output. “I feel everything should be able to be criticized,” he says. “And that includes a religion as well. Personally, I'm a Buddhist myself, but I don't believe in taking extreme measures censoring art.” He is firmly in the tradition of political rap and hip hop that speaks truth to power.In his opinion, rap is the perfect medium for expressing resistance at this current moment. As he says, “Hip hop has always had a political history. And in my opinion, it is the best type of music to express these struggles that we're having with oppression.”

From the moment you begin looking into the spread of the Delta variant of the coronavirus pandemic in Myanmar, the numbers are simply staggering. Some projections suggest half of the population might be infected within two weeks, and there is now the risk that the country will become a super-spreader Covid state that fuels outbreaks across the region, with a full one-third of the world’s population live in nations bordering Myanmar.This approaching, apocalyptic nightmare is the subject of today’s episode, which features Dr. Sasa. The former Special Envoy to United Nations, Dr. Sasa currently serves as the Union Minister of International Cooperation and Spokesperson of the National Unity Government of Myanmar.Dr. Sasa is pleading with the United Nations Security Council to issue what he calls a “COVID ceasefire.” He believes that the only hope is for the international community to finally step up. While the Burmese have been left largely to fend for themselves with almost no outside support for half a year, Dr. Sasa notes that two things no person can manufacture on their own are essential to combatting this virus: oxygen and vaccinations. “The international community is the only answer.”Meanwhile, the military is not stopping its assault on their own people even as the pandemic reaches epic proportions. Doctors have been in hiding since February, and soldiers have been singling them out for arrest, torture, and even assassination.Somehow, in spite of all this needless death and destruction, Dr. Sasa still sees some hope in the form of the vast majority of Burmese valiantly still resisting this military coup. He references the famous slogan used to describe the ultimate sacrifice given by Allied soldiers in World War II, “We gave our todays for your tomorrow.” He notes, “The people of Myanmar are sacrificing their life for the future of tomorrow. So that is the reason why we have hope… And our unity is our strength.”

This is the fourth episode in our ongoing series, “Love Letters to Myanmar.” Today’s show welcomes three foreigners who share how Myanmar has influenced and supported their spiritual path, and the depth of gratitude they have for the country and people.The first guest is Venerable Canda, a Buddhist nun from England. When she was 19 years old, she visited India, where she attended a ten-day vipassana meditation course in the tradition of S.N. Goenka. The experience was so profound that she “knew that the path would be my whole life.” Indeed, ten years later she ordained as a nun north of Yangon under The Phyu Taw Ya Sayadaw, renowned for his deep samādhi prowess and strong sila. Reflecting now on everything she received in her spiritual life from Burmese teachers and the wider monastic and lay community, Venerable Canda feels that now is very much the time to give back.The next guest is Bhikkhu Rahula, a Mexican monk whose first vipassana course was in Japan, also in the tradition of S. N. Goenka, and it was similarly a life-changing experience. Traveling on to Myanmar, he practiced in a variety of traditions, often while ordaining temporarily as a monk. Besides his meditative practice, he devoted himself to studying pariyatti under some of the most renowned academic monks, which brought an even further benefit to his practice. Bhante Rahula brings a Buddhist perspective to his understanding of the current crisis, commenting, “The first thing we must do is become responsible of our own greed, aversion and ignorance. That's the first thing we should do because it's still alive in our hearts.”Finally, we hear a talk recorded with Breno Liberato in January 2020. Breno also got his first taste of dhamma through a Goenka course, and was moved to travel to Myanmar to further his spiritual development. He speaks joyously about his plans to visit various monasteries and meditation centers. He felt particularly called to try the mettā course of Chan Myay Myaing, and then learn cittanupassana from Sayadaw U Tejaniya. One hears the deep appreciation of a visitor who has benefited from his association, however brief, with the Burmese people and country.

When Han Htoo Khant Paing was pursuing degrees at the University of Economics in Yangon and Oxford University in England, he never imagined that one day he would be fleeing for his life to the jungles of Karen State.While many of his friends were enjoying the benefits of the liberalization and reforms of the 2010s, Han was growing increasingly worried that the transition was not going far enough. When the coup happened, Han responded immediately by co-founding the Burma Spring Front for Federal Democracy, an activist group dedicated to reestablishing democracy in Myanmar. He played an important role in organizing some of the country’s largest protests in February and March.As expected, Han and his fellow activists soon became targeted by the military. Han was one of the lucky ones who managed to escape, relocating to a safe house on the very day that soldiers searched his street. He eventually fled to Karen state, where he lived for two months under the protection of the Karen National Union (KNU). Eventually however, the Tatmadaw began running air raids over the camp and nearby villages, prompting Han to flee once again and look for safety.In addition to this harrowing story, our discussion covers a wide range of topics, many concerning the events that took place in the 2010s. Han was deeply disappointed not only by the Rohingya crisis, but also by the indifferent and even defensive response to what was unfolding from his Bamar friends. He feels that so many were enjoying their new-found opportunities for greater material rewards, that they ceased to cherish the value of hard-won, basic freedoms, leading to a misuse of freedom of speech and religious intolerance.

Michael Haack’s lifelong advocacy for Myanmar had a fortuitous start. With a growing interest in the divestment movement, he took advantage of an opportunity to take alternative winter break during his university years on the Thai-Myanmar border. While there, local people told him that they wanted foreign companies to stop doing business with the governing junta. Back at school, he aligned himself with a Free Burma coalition, and with a few other students managed to develop a successful campaign to stop multi-national companies from operating in the country.Since then, the Burmese country and people would have a special place in his heart. Michael’s several-decade career supporting various causes and campaigns, and current position as Campaign Manager at The Campaign for a New Myanmar, are the fodder for this episode’s wide-ranging discussion.The conversation starts by examining the role of the garment factory workers in the present resistance movement, and then spoke about railway workers staying home as part of the Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM), and the importance of rail lines running at less than full capacity. Michael also mentions a recent interview he conducted with Dr. Sasa, the present government leader-in-exile, and in profiling him, found his story so incredible that he thought it could be “sold to Hollywood.”Michael names two other factors that inform a more complete understanding of Myanmar’s current crisis. First is the complicating nature of the Rohingya crisis. And second, in contrast to previous protests of 1988 and 2007, people are no longer fighting for something they never had, but rather fighting for something they don’t want to lose.On this latter point, Michael uses it to push back at criticisms by more liberal colleagues in the West that the coup basically proves that “there never was a transition” to a free society in the 2010s. While it may be true that the liberalization did not go as far as some might have hoped, but “to say that there was no transition is to literally just rob huge swaths of Myanmar society…of their lived experience, their agency, and their understanding of what had happened over the last 10 years.”

Lynn wants to know if anyone can suggest something that hasn’t already been tried.In contrast to many other protesters whose political consciousness was raised only after the coup, Lynn’s own professional and personal background in seeking peaceful solutions to his country’s problems goes back much further than the current moment. Before the coup, he worked directly on the peace process for years, attempting to bring different stakeholders to the table.But following the military coup and the military’s aggressive crackdown, everything changed for him. As Lynn says, “A lot of us decided that the same manner of language must be used to make [the military] understand, because the only language that they were using was violence.” Reaching this sad conclusion, he decided to join a training camp hosted by one of the armed ethnic groups, where for the first time in his life he learned such skills as handling firearms and explosives.  Lynn estimates that hundreds of thousands of Burmese have secretly received such training.Armed with their new skills, many returned back to the cities and tried to join up with the People’s Defense Force (PDF) or Special Task Force (STF). However, they were unable to do so, partly due to a general sense of distrust within the opposition movement, and continuing disagreement about what role, if any, violence should play in the movement. This left those newly-trained citizens with basically just one option to use their new skills: forming their own regional groups to begin operations, which became known as the UG network.Abandoning his lifelong pacifist values was not easy, and Lynn still struggles with his new role and the use of violence even as a last resort, which he hopes will be a temporary tool to use in coordination with other activities, and to be abandoned once freedom is attained.