Myanmar: Politics, Economy and Society 2020020166, 9780367110352, 9780367110444, 9780429024443

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MYANMAR

This book provides a sophisticated, yet accessible, overview of the key political, economic and social challenges facing contemporary Myanmar and explains the complex historical and ethnic dynamics that have shaped the country. With clear and incisive contributions from the world’s leading Myanmar scholars, this book assesses the policies and political reforms that have provoked contestation in Myanmar’s recent history and driven both economic and social change. In this context, questions of economic ownership and control and the distribution of natural resources are shown to be deeply informed by long-­standing fractures among ethnic and civil-­military relations. The chapters analyse the key issues that constrain or expedite societal development in Myanmar and place recent events of national and international significance in the context of its complex history and social relations. In doing so, the book demonstrates that ethnic and cultural diversity is at the core of Myanmar’s society and heavily influences all aspects of life in the country. Filling a gap in the market, this research textbook and primer will be of interest to upper undergraduates, postgraduates and scholars of Southeast Asian politics, economics and society and to journalists and professionals working within governments, companies and other organisations. Adam Simpson is Program Director of the Master of Communication in UniSA Justice & Society, at the University of South Australia. He is the co-­editor, along with Nicholas Farrelly and Ian Holliday, of the Routledge Handbook of Contemporary Myanmar (2018) and author of Energy, Governance and Security in Thailand and Myanmar (2014, 2017). Nicholas Farrelly is Professor and Head of Social Sciences at the University of Tasmania, Australia. He was previously Associate Dean of the College of Asia and the Pacific at the Australian National University.

MYANMAR Politics, Economy and Society

Edited by Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 selection and editorial matter, Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly to be identified as the authors of the editorial matter, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-­in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-­in-Publication Data Names: Simpson, Adam (Adam John), editor. | Farrelly, Nicholas, 1982– editor. Title: Myanmar: politics, economy and society/edited by Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly. Description: Abingdon, Oxon; New York, NY: Routledge, 2021. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020020166 | ISBN 9780367110352 (hardback) | ISBN 9780367110444 (paperback) | ISBN 9780429024443 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Burma–Politics and government–1988- | Burma–Politics and government–1962–1988. | Burma–Economic conditions–1988- | Burma–Social conditions–1988– Classification: LCC DS530.65 .M935 2021 | DDC 959.105-dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020020166 ISBN: 978-0-367-11035-2 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-367-11044-4 (pbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-02444-3 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Wearset Ltd, Boldon, Tyne and Wear

For Lisa and Kyela

CONTENTS



Notes on contributors

  1 Interrogating contemporary Myanmar: the difficult transition Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly

x 1

Part I

Politics

13

  2 Elections and political reform: new hopes, old fears Nicholas Farrelly

15

  3 The military: institution and politics Maung Aung Myoe

28

  4 Law, lawyers and legal institutions Mish Khan and Nick Cheesman

44

  5 Ethnic politics: diversity and agency amid persistent violence Matthew J Walton

59

  6 Democracy and human rights: in the shadow of Myanmar’s national security state Morten B Pedersen

74

viii   Contents

  7 Foreign policy and international engagement: strategic realities, domestic priorities Renaud Egreteau

87

Part II

Economy

103

  8 Political regimes and economic policy: isolation, consolidation, reintegration Michele Ford, Michael Gillan and Htwe-­Htwe Thein

105

  9 Industrial policy and special economic zones: engaging transformation in a globalised world Giuseppe Gabusi and Michele Boario

120

10 Agriculture and the rural economy: the struggle to transform rural livelihoods Duncan Boughton, Ikuko Okamoto, SiuSue Mark, Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung, Theingi Myint and Tin Htut Oo  11 Natural resources: wealth and conflict Adam Simpson

136

149

Part III

Society

169

12 Art and heritage: creating and preserving cultural histories Charlotte Galloway

171

13 Women’s rights: change and continuity Jenny Hedström, Elisabeth Olivius and Kay Soe

186

14 Myanmar’s contested borderlands: uneven development and ongoing armed conflict Busarin Lertchavalitsakul and Patrick Meehan

204

15 Ethnicity, culture and religion: centralisation, Burmanisation and social transformation 219 Violet Cho and David Gilbert 16 Journalism and free speech: freedom and fear Thomas Kean and Mratt Kyaw Thu

234

Contents   ix

17 The Rohingya crisis: nationalism and its discontents Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly

249



265

Index

CONTRIBUTORS

Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung is Chair of the Political Science Department at the University of Massachusetts. She conducted her PhD thesis research on relationships between paddy farmers and the state in Myanmar, and has published more than 20 journal articles on Myanmar. She has published two well-­known books on Myanmar with a third in press. Michele Boario is Senior Economist at the Italian Agency for Development Cooperation in Ethiopia. He worked as a Chief Technical Advisor for the United Nations Industrial Development Organization in Myanmar for the period 2013–18. He authored a chapter on ‘Myanmar in Southeast Asia’ in Nomos & Khaos: 2017 Nomisma Economic and Strategic Outlook. As a Research Fellow at T.wai, the Torino World Affairs Institute, he regularly publishes economic papers on RISE, a quarterly open access journal in Italy on contemporary Southeast Asia. Duncan Boughton is an agricultural economist and Professor, International Development, in the Department of Agricultural Economics at Michigan State University. He has led MSU’s work in Myanmar since 2012. He has 35 years’ experience in policy analysis to raise smallholder farmer incomes in sub-­Saharan Africa and Southeast Asia and has undertaken long-­term assignments in the Philippines, The Gambia, Mali, Malawi and Mozambique in addition to Myanmar. His recent published research has examined the constraints affecting smallholder farmers’ ability to participate in markets for different types of crop, and the need for complementary investments in crop productivity and market access. Busarin Lertchavalitsakul is Lecturer at the Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Faculty of Social Sciences, Naresuan University, Thailand. She teaches both undergraduate and graduate courses in the fields of development studies, borderland

Contributors   xi

studies, migration and mobility, and food and culture. Research from her PhD dissertation on Shan migrants’ cross-­border mobility and state formation at Myanmar’s borders are published in the peer-­reviewed Journal of Burma Studies and SOJOURN. For the past decade, Busarin has grown her interest in researching among the Shan ethnic migrants in Thailand whose life trajectories reflect their fluid and shifted mobility patterns as well as their dynamic consumption. Nick Cheesman is a fellow in the Department of Political & Social Change, Australian National University. He is the author of Opposing the Rule of Law: How Myanmar’s Courts Make Law and Order (2015). His latest edited volume is Interpreting Communal Violence in Myanmar (Routledge, 2018). Violet Cho is a PhD Candidate in Anthropology at the Australian National University. She is doing research on the Karen concept of kaw in the Myanmar – India maritime borderlands. Renaud Egreteau is Associate Professor in Comparative Politics at the Department of Asian and International Studies, City University of Hong Kong, where he coordinates the Master’s Degree Programme in Modern Asian Studies. He held research fellowships from the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars (Washington, DC) and the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies (ISEAS-­Yusof Ishak) in Singapore. He authored Caretaking Democratization: The Military and Political Change in Myanmar (2016) and co-­edited, with François Robinne, Metamorphosis: Studies in Social and Political Change in Myanmar (2015). Nicholas Farrelly is Professor and Head of the School of Social Sciences at the University of Tasmania. He was previously Associate Dean in the Australian National University’s College of Asia and the Pacific. After graduating from the ANU in 2003 with First Class Honours and the University Medal in Asian Studies, he completed his M.Phil and D.Phil at Balliol College, University of Oxford, where he was a Rhodes Scholar. From 2009, he held a number of key academic positions in the ANU College of Asia and the Pacific, including as convenor of the PhB program. From 2015 to 2018, he was the foundation Director of the ANU Myanmar Research Centre. His own academic research focuses on political conflict and social change in mainland Southeast Asia. Nicholas has undertaken extensive research across Myanmar, including an Australian Research Council funded project on political cultures in Naypyitaw. Michele Ford is Professor of Southeast Asian Studies and Director of the Sydney Southeast Asia Centre at the University of Sydney. Her research focuses Southeast Asian labour movements, labour relations in global production networks and trade union aid. Michele is the author of Workers and Intellectuals: NGOs, Trade Unions and the Indonesian Labour Movement (2009) and From Migrant to Worker: Global Unions and Temporary Labor Migration in Asia (2019), and co-­author of Labor and Politics in

xii   Contributors

Indonesia (2020). She is also editor of Social Activism in Southeast Asia (Routledge, 2013) and the co-­editor of several volumes including Beyond Oligarchy: Wealth, Power, and Contemporary Indonesian Politics (2014) and Activists in Transition: Progressive Politics in Democratic Indonesia (2019). Giuseppe Gabusi is Assistant Professor of International Political Economy and Political Economy of East Asia at the Department of Cultures, Politics and Society of the University of Turin. He is among the co-­founders of T.wai, the Torino World Affairs Institute, where he heads the ‘Asia Prospects’ Program and edits RISE, the only quarterly open access journal in Italy on contemporary South-­East Asia. His contributions to Myanmar studies include: (co-­authored) ‘Authoritarian resilience through top-­down transformation: making sense of Myanmar’s incomplete transition’, Italian Political Science Review (2019); ‘State, Market and Social Order: Myanmar’s Political Economy Challenges’, European Journal of East Asian Studies (2015); ‘Change and continuity: capacity, co-­ordination, and natural resources in Myanmar’s periphery’, in Chambers, McCarthy, Farrelly & Chit Win (eds), Myanmar Transformed? People, Places, Politics (2018). Charlotte Galloway is Senior Lecturer in Art History and Curatorial Studies at the Australian National University. Her research specialisation is the Buddhist art of Myanmar. In recent years Dr Galloway has been involved in projects relating to heritage and museums and capacity building in these sectors. In 2017 she was a UNESCO Expert assisting with the successful World Heritage nomination for Bagan, and has on-­going art historical research projects involving the Pyu Ancient Cities, Myanmar’s first heritage listed sites, and Bagan. Dr Galloway lectures regularly at the University of Yangon, and is Director of the ANU Myanmar Research Centre. David Gilbert is Visiting Fellow in the Department of Political & Social Change, Australian National University. His PhD examined transgender everyday life in Yangon, during Myanmar’s transition from military rule. Michael Gillan is Associate Professor at the Faculty of Arts, Business, Law and Education at the University of Western Australia. His research focuses on Global Union Federations; employment relations in global production networks; labour movements and politics in India; and employment relations in Myanmar. He has published in a wide range of international journals including Economic Geography, Journal of Contemporary Asia, South Asia, Australian Journal of Labour Law and the Journal of Industrial Relations. Jenny Hedström is a Postdoctoral Research Fellow at Örebro University. She completed her PhD in 2018 at the Monash Gender, Peace and Security Centre at Monash University in Australia. Her thesis research examined how the political economy of the household supports the militarisation of non-­state armed groups, with a focus on the Kachin Independence Organisation (KIO) in Myanmar.

Contributors   xiii

Htwe-­Htwe Thein is Associate Professor in International Business at the School of Management, Curtin University, Australia. Her research applies institutional theory within the discipline of International Business through her work on ‘home’ and ‘host’ institutions, global governance in global supply chains and their impact on firm strategy, primarily in Myanmar in the period since the early 1990s. Htwe Htwe has published in leading journals including Journal of World Business, Journal of Industrial Relations, Journal of Contemporary Asia, International Journal of Cross-­Cultural Management and Feminist Economics. She has also co-­authored numerous research reports for business, government and NGOs. Kay Soe is a women’s human rights advocate with over a decade of experience in gender equality programming and policy development. She has worked with international NGOs and an intergovernmental organisation. Currently, Kay is the Myanmar Representative for Newstone Global Consulting, leading Myanmar based research studies and evaluation assignments. Kay holds Master’s degrees from Webster University and Sciences Po, Paris. Thomas Kean is editor-­in-chief of Frontier Myanmar, a fortnightly English-­ language magazine based in Yangon that was launched in July 2015. He has been working as a journalist in Myanmar for more than a decade and edited the English edition of The Myanmar Times from January 2010 to April 2016. He has won several awards for editorial excellence from the Society of Publishers in Asia and his academic work has appeared in the Journal of Contemporary Asia and the Routledge Handbook of Contemporary Myanmar. SiuSue Mark is a political economist and development practitioner with over 16 years of professional experience. She specialises in Myanmar, but has also worked in Thailand, Indonesia, Colombia, El Salvador and Liberia. She is broadly interested in how the politics of control over land and natural resources contribute to and reflect the forces that shape state building, state-­society relationships, citizenship, and human rights. She received her Masters from Columbia University in the City of New York and PhD from the International Institute of Social Studies in The Hague. Maung Aung Myoe is Dean of the Graduate School of International Relations and Professor of International Relations at the International University of Japan. He earned his PhD in Political Science and International Relations from Australian National University. He teaches International Politics, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Security and Strategy, Foreign Policy Analysis, and International Relations in Southeast Asia. His research interests are civil-­military relations, regional security in Southeast Asia, and the government and politics in Myanmar. He has published books and articles on the Myanmar military and Myanmar’s foreign policy and foreign relations.

xiv   Contributors

Patrick Meehan is a post-­doctoral Research Fellow in the Department of Development Studies at SOAS University of London and is also a co-­Investigator on a four year research project entitled ‘Drugs and (dis)order: Building sustainable peacetime economies in the aftermath of war’. His research explores the political economy of violence, conflict and development, and engages specifically with the relationship between illicit economies and processes of state-­building and peace-­building in borderland and frontier regions with a primary focus on Myanmar’s borderlands with China and Thailand. Mish Khan studied Asian Studies (Burmese language) and Laws at the Australian National University. She spent 2017 studying law at the Yangon University LLB program as a New Colombo scholar, and working at the Rule of Law Centres Myanmar. She is also Assistant Editor at the New Mandala, an online Southeast Asia analysis platform. Mratt Kyaw Thu is a Sub-­Editor and Senior Writer at Myanmar Now, an independent news service based in Yangon. He covers conflict and politics and has previously worked at Frontier Myanmar, Unity Weekly, The Myanmar Times and Mizzima. In 2017 he won the AFP Kate Webb Prize for his reporting on conflict in Rakhine and Shan states, and in 2016 received an honourable mention from the Society of Publishers in Asia for coverage of student protests. Ikuko Okamoto is an agricultural economist and Professor in the Faculty of Regional Studies, and researcher at the Centre for Sustainable Development, at Toyo University in Japan. She conducted her PhD thesis on the impact of pulse production on rural livelihoods in the Delta area of Myanmar. She has written several book chapters and journal articles on agriculture and rural development in Myanmar, and published a monograph based on her PhD dissertation. Her current research focuses on the relationships between characteristics of local societies and capacity for self-­organisation in different rural areas. Elisabeth Olivius is Associate Professor in Peace and Conflict Studies at Umeå University, Sweden. Her research focuses on how gendered relations of power are produced and reshaped in processes of conflict, displacement and peacebuilding. In ongoing projects she explores the role of diasporic women’s organisations, and the politics of international gender expertise in peacebuilding in Myanmar. As a member of the Varieties of Peace research network, she conducts research on how local and regional forms of peace in Myanmar are manifested and experienced amidst and alongside ongoing war in the country. Morten B Pedersen is Senior Lecturer in Politics at the University of New South Wales Canberra and the Australian Defence Force Academy. He previously spent six years in Myanmar with the International Crisis Group and has authored more than 50 significant publications on Myanmar politics and international relations,

Contributors   xv

including Promoting Human Rights in Burma: A Critique of Western Sanctions Policies (2008), and is currently working on a new book on Myanmar’s New Democracy. He has also worked as a policy advisor for several governments and international organisations, including the European Commission, the United Nations, and Nobel Peace Prize laureate Martti Ahtisaari. Adam Simpson is Program Director: Master of Communication in UniSA Justice & Society, at the University of South Australia. He contributes program leadership and teaching to UniSA Creative. He has held a 6-month Visiting Research Fellowship at the Centre for Southeast Asian Studies, Kyoto University, and Visiting Scholar positions at SOAS, University of London, Queen Mary, University of London and Keele University. His research adopts a critical perspective and is focused on the politics of the environment, development and new media in Southeast Asia, particularly Myanmar and Thailand. He has published in a variety of international journals including Environmental Politics, Society & Natural Resources, Third World Quarterly and Pacific Review. He is the author of Energy, Governance and Security in Thailand and Myanmar (Burma): A Critical Approach to Environmental Politics in the South (Routledge 2014; Updated Paperback Edition, NIAS Press 2017) and is lead editor of the Routledge Handbook of Contemporary Myanmar (2018). Theingi Myint is an agricultural economist and Associate Professor in the Department of Agricultural Economics at Yezin Agricultural Economist. She conducted her PhD dissertation on paddy prices and has conducted numerous studies on the agricultural economy of Myanmar. Dr Myint has recently collaborated with the Myanmar Rice Federation and Ministry of Agriculture, Livestock and Irrigation to studies of rice consumption and cost of production. She was lead author of a paper on the evolution of the rice sector in Myanmar over the past 40 years presented at the centennial conference of the Indian Economists Association in December 2017. Tin Htut Oo currently serves as the Head of the Agriculture Division at Yoma Strategic Holdings. He is a retired Director General of the Department of Agricultural Planning, Ministry of Agriculture and Irrigation. He has served as a National and International Consultant with the United Nations and International Organisations. Matthew J Walton is Assistant Professor in Comparative Political Theory in the Department of Political Science at the University of Toronto. Previously, he was the founding director of the Programme on Modern Burmese Studies at St Antony’s College, University of Oxford. His research focuses on religion and politics in Southeast Asia, with a special emphasis on Buddhism in Myanmar. Matt’s first book, Buddhism, Politics, and Political Thought in Myanmar, was published in 2016. His articles on Buddhism, ethnicity, politics and political thought in Myanmar have appeared in Politics & Religion, Journal of Burma Studies, Journal of Contemporary Asia, Journal of Contemporary Buddhism, Buddhism, Law & Society, and Asian Survey. Matt

xvi   Contributors

was P-­I for an ESRC-­funded 2-year research project entitled ‘Understanding “Buddhist nationalism” in Myanmar’, a co-­founder of the Myanmar Media and Society project and of the Burma/Myanmar blog Tea Circle, and is currently co-­ directing a project with Melissa Williams at the University of Toronto entitled ‘Deparochializing Political Thought: From the Global to the Local’.

1 INTERROGATING CONTEMPORARY MYANMAR The difficult transition Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly

Introduction Myanmar’s recent history is one of immense and unrelenting social, political and economic change. The enormous global dislocation driven by the COVID-­19 coronavirus global pandemic is only likely to exacerbate the challenges faced by the country on the long and difficult journey from relatively closed and poverty-­stricken authoritarian past towards a potential open and relatively democratic middle-­income future. By early 2020, in many countries all around the world, COVID-­19 was breaking government budgets, overwhelming health systems, bringing economic activity to a virtual halt and adversely impacting the most vulnerable populations. In developed countries such as Italy, Spain, the UK and the US, hospitals and morgues overflowed as most of the world’s population experienced unprecedented restrictions on social interaction. In developing countries, the impact was potentially catastrophic. In the cramped camps on the Bangladesh border, where over a million of Myanmar’s Muslim Rohingya refugees take shelter, social distancing was almost impossible and the Bangladesh Government imposed a ‘complete lockdown’ of the camps on 8 April (AFP 2020). Misinformation within the camps regarding the virus was rife, aggravated by the lack of internet access, demonstrating the link between connectivity and human rights (Simpson 2019). The one potential saving grace for tropical developing countries was that the transmission of the virus appeared to be relatively low in the humid tropics compared with the wintry climes of Europe and North America (Smithuis 2020), although at the time of writing it was still too early to determine the extent of the impact in these countries. The pandemic inserted a potentially significant destabilising variable in the National League for Democracy’s (NLD), and Aung San Suu Kyi’s, campaign to solidify their position as the natural party of government in Myanmar during the national elections scheduled for 8 November 2020.

2   Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly

In the lead-­up to these elections, a reckoning of the NLD’S first term in government and, more broadly, the transition initiated in 2010 from direct military rule to a system supported by local and national legislatures was in order. These more democratic post-2011 regimes brought with them an unanticipated programme of political and economic liberalisation, which has now touched almost all aspects of life in the country (Simpson et al. 2018). A challenge for Myanmar’s people, and for analysts seeking to appreciate the subtleties of the multifaceted transformation, is that what may have initially appeared to be positive developments have often been accompanied by deleterious consequences. Some of those consequences were well-­anticipated, and accompanied by warnings, whereas others have perhaps proved more negative than was widely foreseen. It is this mixed picture, one that draws much influence from the decades of military rule, that shapes the analysis in this volume. We are concerned about the range of challenging dynamics across Myanmar society and seek to paint a realistic picture of what has changed and what has stayed the same. We are also motivated by the need to put future political and economic shifts in an appropriately historical context. There is no sense in which Myanmar will find its equilibrium any time soon. Indeed, the political, economic and social challenges faced in the period after the next elections, exacerbated by the effects of the global COVID-­19 pandemic, are likely to generate even greater contestation and instability. A useful illustration of these dynamics concerns access to information and the changing shape of the space for public debate. Changes in censorship rules meant that in April 2013, private daily newspapers appeared on Myanmar’s streets for the first time since 1964 (Simpson 2017: 80). New foreign telecommunications operators entered the market in September 2014, resulting in mobile phone penetration increasing from roughly 2 per cent of the population before the launch – with prices for SIM cards on the black market during military rule of up to US$2,000 each – to around 90 per cent two years later with SIM cards available for US$1.50. This transformation in the availability of information, along with the loosening of some restrictions on protest and freedom of speech, created conditions for the improvement of educational, economic and social outcomes. A rapid expansion in the diversity and vitality of public expression, including in the arts, has made it possible to imagine a much more effective and harmonious political situation (Farrelly 2016a). Regular elections, as in 2010, 2012 and 2015 are a further indication of the growing space for more peaceful and inclusive politics. Tragically, the liberalisation of the past decade also unleashed powerful destructive forces, both new and old, with consequences for all corners of the country (McCarthy and Farrelly 2020: 141–2). The impacts, for example, of more open communications systems have been uneven, with the rise of social media accompanied by the spread of vicious hate speech. Myanmar’s vulnerable minority populations, particularly Muslims, have faced increasingly hostile conditions in towns and villages across the country, a situation exacerbated by and amplified through the newly prevalent information technologies (McCarthy and Menager 2017). Social media and the rise of ‘fake news’ are a challenge for free speech and democracy in countries all around the world, including those with long democratic

Contemporary Myanmar: the transition   3

histories and strong legal traditions for managing free speech and free media. In Myanmar, the new opportunity for free expression has emerged alongside a historic, worldwide explosion in the use of social media. Myanmar, perhaps more than any other country, was ill-­prepared for the abrupt shifts in cultural and political terms (for early reflections see Farrelly 2015). A strictly controlled and monitored public sphere under the previous military regimes was quickly replaced by the anarchy and opportunity of internet-­enabled information sharing. After half a century of oppressive military rule, Myanmar people rapidly embraced mobile phones that brought their social networks, via the Facebook interface, right into their hands. The ramifications of this abrupt change were described darkly by the UN Independent International Fact-­Finding Mission on Myanmar: ‘Facebook has been a useful instrument for those seeking to spread hate, in a context where, for most users, Facebook is the Internet’ (Human Rights Council 2018). That hate speech has proved most dangerous along Myanmar’s Muslim-­Buddhist faultline. Chauvinist Buddhist rhetoric, which was once a fringe concern within Myanmar society, has gone mainstream. The persecution of Muslim Rohingya communities from western Myanmar has been facilitated, in sociological terms, by the convergence of new technologies and old prejudices (David and Holliday 2018). After violent communal attacks on some of these communities in 2012 and 2013, followed by several years of rumour mongering and enforced isolation, the Myanmar military responded to an attack by a Rohingya militant group in August 2017 with full-­scale ‘clearance operations’ that resulted in ethnic cleansing, if not genocide, of Rohingya communities. In total, almost 1 million Rohingya fled across the border to Bangladesh to escape the repression with the vast majority leaving Myanmar within 6 weeks of the 2017 attacks (see Chapter 17). Despite ongoing ethnic conflicts in various parts of the country and the many internal challenges facing Myanmar, its treatment of the Rohingya and the intractable conflict that it underpins are central to debates over the country’s economic development, its approach to social inclusion, and its relationship with the outside world. In these respects, this volume seeks to interrogate the political, economic, social, cultural, environmental and technological dimensions of Myanmar’s recent changes, in light of the major questions facing the country for the decade ahead. These questions concern the scope and character of federalism, inclusion of religious and ethnic minorities, including the Rohingya and the Chinese, the management of vast illicit economies, and the development of a consolidated democratic and electoral framework (for earlier analysis of these key questions see Kipgen 2018; Walton 2013; Meehan 2015; Jones 2014). Many voices in Myanmar counsel that the transition from entrenched military rule will take generations, and that there is no smooth path to success (for a fluent version of this analysis, see Thant Myint-­U 2020). It is also true that the trauma inflicted on Myanmar society, especially in borderlands regions, cannot be easily resolved. Nonetheless, the missed opportunities of recent years, made most apparent in the disastrous humanitarian and political outcomes for the Rohingya, are a reminder that millions of lives are at stake.

4   Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly

Myanmar’s troubled transition cannot simply be abandoned because it has proved more difficult and violent than was earlier hoped. A return to direct military rule, a scenario that would further undermine the gains provided by the fragile electoral system of the past decade, would likely only lead to further strife and violence. That scenario is not, however, a fanciful one; ‘when democracy and markets are increasingly seen in the West as unable to cope with issues of inequality, identity, and climate change, they have become Burma’s only prescription for the future’ (Thant Myint-­U 2020: 257). Those issues are proving hugely difficult for Myanmar’s nascent and fragile democracy to handle. Where local compromises have not been possible under the democratic order, particularly in Rakhine State, but also in areas of the Kachin, Shan and Karen States, the military is widely distrusted and is considered a dangerously self-­interested political machine. At the same time, progress towards a nation-­wide peace agreement has been frustrated by fraught interactions between the elected National League for Democracy government and the leadership of the armed forces. We all hope that Myanmar will eventually find sustainable compromises among its many warring groups, and yet such an outcome seems as far-­away and as unlikely as ever.

Historical background With this sobering prognosis, the current volume examines contemporary Myanmar’s situation with respect to politics, economy and society by drawing on an understanding of the historical conditions which have driven recent events. Over the past few centuries, the peoples of what we now know as Myanmar have faced conflict, conquest, colonisation, and finally decolonisation, along with great upheavals in economic structure and technological possibilities. A sad reality for Myanmar is that conflict between its various ethnicities has been a constant trend throughout history, with, for instance, the Burman (Bamar) Konbaung Dynasty defeating the Kingdom of Arakan (in contemporary Rakhine State) in 1784–85. Burmese expansion on this western border triggered the first Anglo-­Burmese war from 1824–26, after which the British annexed western and southern Burma.1 By 1886, following two further Anglo-­Burmese wars, the British had annexed the rest of the country and fully incorporated it as a province of British India. During the following decades of colonial rule, the ethnic minorities of Burma’s mountainous border regions, such as the Karen (Kayin), Shan, Kachin and Arakan (Rakhine) communities, were often treated differently by the British administration from the dominant ethnic Burman majority, which resulted in differing perspectives regarding the colonisers. As a result, during World War II there were contrasting attitudes towards the Japanese invasion, with Burman insurgents originally welcoming the Japanese as liberators, while other ethnic groups, such as the Karen, fought with the British against the Japanese. These histories of alliances and resistance still echo today. After World War II, Britain granted Burma its independence, as it did with India. Burma became an independent state on 4 January 1948 and there followed

Contemporary Myanmar: the transition   5

14 years of mostly democratic rule, albeit under increasingly difficult security conditions. It took many years to recover from the devastation of World War II and a complex array of ongoing conflicts in the border regions made governing the country difficult. Struggles related to ethnic minority demands for independence or autonomy based on the Panglong Agreement of 1947 and other insurgencies based on ideology, such as that by the Communist Party of Burma, gave General Ne Win a pretext for the military coup in 1962 that ended multiparty government and liberal democratic principles for half a century (Smith 1999; Lintner 1999). Ne Win used the Burma Socialist Programme Party (BSPP) as the vehicle for his idiosyncratic style of authoritarian rule until 1988 when nation-­wide street protests saw the emergence of Aung San Suu Kyi as a national, and international, icon of democracy. The protests that she helped to lead were brutally supressed with a military ‘self-­coup’ leading to direct military rule by the State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC) from 1988 to 2011. While it was renamed the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC) in 1997, this junta offered little space for alternative perspectives. Between 1992 and 2011 Senior General Than Shwe was head of SLORC/SPDC and was the government’s undisputed leader. From 2003, the SPDC offered a seven-­step ‘Roadmap to Discipline-­Flourishing Democracy’, and used this framework to implement the 2008 constitution (Holliday 2011: 81–6). While allowing multiparty elections the military ensured that they maintained a high degree of control over the country through several aspects of the constitution: 25 per cent of the bicameral national parliament were appointed by the military, with a vote of over 75 per cent of the parliament required to change the constitution; the defence minister, the border affairs minister, the interior minister and one of the vice-­presidents were to be appointed by the military; and those who had a spouse or children who were foreign citizens were unable to be president – a measure aimed squarely at Aung San Suu Kyi who, along with her NLD party, boycotted the first election, in 2010, held under the new constitution. After the new government, under former general President Thein Sein, took power in April 2011 it began a sweeping process of political and economic liberalisation that took most Myanmar watchers, activists and researchers by surprise (Simpson and Park 2013; Farrelly et al. 2018). After decades of relative isolation, by the end of 2011 hotel prices in Yangon had at least trebled as the country struggled to cater to the new level of interest and enthusiasm generated by the reforms. Those reforms encouraged Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD to end their boycott of the political process. Aung San Suu Kyi and scores of her colleagues entered the national legislature through by-­elections held on 1 April 2012. After five years of reform under the Thein Sein government, the NLD won a resounding victory in the November 2015 elections and in April 2016 formed a new government itself. The NLD created the new powerful position of State Counsellor for Aung San Suu Kyi, to circumvent the constitutional restriction on her taking the presidency, relegating the previously powerful role of president to one that was mostly ceremonial. The NLD government was still restricted by

6   Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly

e­ lements of the constitution, particularly in terms of the absence of civilian oversight of the military, but the new position of State Counsellor, along with her role as Foreign Minister, allowed Aung San Suu Kyi relatively unfettered control over other aspects of the bureaucracy. The coalition of military and democratic interests has proved particularly important for presenting a united front in terms of security issues, such as during the crisis in Rakhine State.

Chapter structure Due to the major political, social and economic shifts associated with these changes in government we focus on recent political history to define the common structure of each chapter. We hope that this chapter structure allows for ready comparisons between different themes and for appreciation of the ways that issues have changed over time. A key example is the transformation in research access and the shift in the feel of the country from universal suspicion and near constant surveillance by ‘MI’ – military intelligence – prior to 2011, to one of openness and relative freedom as the reforms unfolded. While this general feeling pervades the country there are still many religious and ethnic minorities, such as the Rohingya, whose position has generally worsened since 2011. It takes a historical appreciation to appropriately situate these different dimensions. To account for the changes that have occurred, and to put them in the correct historical context, each chapter in this volume is therefore structured around three significant periods. Since we are examining contemporary Myanmar, most of the analysis in each chapter begins with the decades of authoritarian rule until 2011, primarily under SLORC/SPDC, before considering the Thein Sein and USDP era, and then finishing with analysis of life under the NLD government which took power in 2016.

Book structure The volume is divided into the three parts: Politics, Economy and Society. As indicated above, the driving forces behind recent economic and social changes have been political decision making and we therefore begin by focusing on the political issues and policies that have provoked contestation in Myanmar’s recent political development.

Politics The most significant single political shift in Myanmar’s recent history has been the transition from authoritarian rule by military junta to a mostly elected legislature and government following the 2010 elections. Irrespective of the many valid criticisms of the Thein Sein and Aung San Suu Kyi governments, the relative transparency of government during the past decade has ensured a level of accountability not seen since before 1962. Critics tend, naturally, to emphasise the lack of progress in

Contemporary Myanmar: the transition   7

the national peace process and the Rohingya crisis in Rakhine State as demonstrating the limits of reformist success under recent governments. In Chapter 2, Nicholas Farrelly provides a thorough overview of the political transition so far and the implications for future governance and reform. The key player in Myanmar’s national politics over the last 60 years has been the Tatmadaw, Myanmar’s military, which has ruled the country either directly or through single party rule or, as is currently the case, through its management of constitutional constraints. In Chapter 3, Maung Aung Myoe studies the pattern of civil-­military relations through the various political epochs since direct military rule and particularly since the coming to power of the NLD in 2016. Since the promulgation of the 2008 constitution and the passing of laws by the new parliament the role of lawyers and the courts in interpreting the law has increased. Myanmar’s judiciary, however, is still constrained by the cultural hangover of decades of subservience to authoritarian rule. In Chapter 4, Mish Khan and Nick Cheesman examine the recent history of law and lawyering in Myanmar and explain the forces that limit the rule of law in Myanmar from reaching its full potential. One of the most pressing political issues in Myanmar is the nature and contestation of the concepts of ethnicity and ‘race’ and how these interact with questions of citizenship. Myanmar is an ethnically diverse country and while much of this diversity is accepted by most of the population, there are exceptions, with the Rohingya being the obvious example. In Chapter 5, however, Matthew J Walton focuses on the contested nature of ethnicity. By analysing the shifting dynamics of ethnic politics through different eras in Myanmar’s modern history and at sub-­ national levels, the chapter balances the understanding that ethnic identity is constructed with (and thus, contingent on) the recognition that ethnicity and its effects are nonetheless real and have political impacts. Ethnic politics in Myanmar is closely related to the drive for, and suppression of, democracy and human rights. In Chapter 6, Morten B Pedersen argues that Myanmar’s national security state has systematically undermined democracy and human rights throughout its history and that, contrary to the hopes and expectations of many, Myanmar’s deeper political culture has proven highly resistant to change even under the NLD and Aung San Suu Kyi. Myanmar’s approach to democracy and human rights has influenced its international relations as the end of the Cold War meant that western countries were inclined to isolate countries on the basis of their human rights records. Prior to 1988 the BSPP had adopted a policy of autarky and isolation, but just at the time when the military government changed tack and sought out foreign investment following the 1988 protests, western countries in particular were less forthcoming in their engagement, resulting in broad-­based sanctions being applied by major western countries throughout the 1990s. By the 2000s this policy meant that Myanmar increasingly looked to China for foreign investment and international support, a policy that caused increasing tension, particularly in northern Myanmar, as China’s presence and influence dramatically increased.

8   Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly

Along with a range of other factors, this undoubtedly contributed to the political and economic liberalisation undertaken from 2011 to attract western engagement and foreign investment (Simpson 2017: 20). In Chapter 7, Renaud Egreteau examines the changes in Myanmar’s foreign policy and international engagement while also highlighting striking elements of continuity, such as the enduring influence of the Myanmar military over foreign policy formulation.

Economy Closely related to Myanmar’s political shifts have been questions of economic ownership, control and the distribution of natural resources. Chapter 8 begins this section with an analysis of the close relationship between the political regimes that have ruled Myanmar and the economic policies pursued. Michele Ford, Michael Gillan and Htwe Htwe Thein argue that the policies of previous regimes, as well as the policies of the NLD government, have supported, rather than mediated, the consolidation of wealth and power by domestic conglomerates and oligarchs. In Chapter 9, Giuseppe Gabusi and Michele Boario build on this economic analysis by examining Myanmar’s history of industrial policy and the emergence of special economic zones (SEZs). They interrogate the reasons for successive failures in Myanmar’s attempts to establish a modern industrialised economy, resulting in pervasive poverty and a predominantly rural economy. The importance of rural development is emphasised in Chapter 10, in which the writing team of Duncan Boughton, Ikuko Okamoto, SiuSue Mark, Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung, Theingi Myint and Tin Htut Oo provide fine-­grain analysis of rural economic activity and the impacts it has on rural livelihoods. They demonstrate the close interrelationships between political decisions at the highest level and the impacts on poverty, food security and rural life. After half a century of mismanagement they argue that Myanmar’s rural economy is finally transforming, despite ongoing issues related to land tenure and low levels of productivity. Some rural and remote regions, particularly those inhabited by ethnic minorities, are also afflicted by conflicts focused on a range of natural resources including the exploitation of hydropower and gas for electricity, forests for timber and the mining of jade and other minerals. In Chapter 11, Adam Simpson argues that since the turn of the century Myanmar’s export income has been driven by the exploitation of its natural resources, particularly natural gas and jade. These two resources provide very different models of economic development: one being relatively transparent and largely governed by international laws and rules; the other being opaque and largely governed by corruption, militarisation and the murky laws of smuggling and black markets. These contrasting modes of natural resource extraction epitomise the complex journey Myanmar’s economy and society is taking, with one foot in a liberal international order and one in a mercantilist drive for primitive accumulation.

Contemporary Myanmar: the transition   9

Society Ethnic and cultural diversity is at the core of Myanmar’s society and heavily influences both historical and contemporary aspects of life in the country. While conflicts over ethnicity have impacted Myanmar’s attempts at heritage conservation, there have been vast improvements in management of the country’s heritage sites since 2011, which have been recognised internationally; in 2019 UNESCO inscribed Myanmar’s ancient capital of Bagan as a World Heritage Site, nearly a quarter of a century after it was first nominated for listing. In Chapter 12, Charlotte Galloway examines the key developments in the recent history of Myanmar’s art and heritage, including increasing engagement with the international community. One of the many social issues facing Myanmar is vast inequality between genders. While Aung San Suu Kyi is a key female role model within the country this is in the context of an otherwise largely male-­dominated NLD government and follows on from the virtual exclusion of women from high-­profile roles throughout Myanmar’s history. As society liberalises, along with political and economic forces, this is beginning to change but as Jenny Hedström, Elisabeth Olivius and Kay Soe demonstrate in Chapter 13, gender inequality continues to persist across the country at all levels. In Chapter 14, Busarin Lertchavalitsakul and Patrick Meehan examine another form of societal inequality, between Myanmar’s borderlands and its centre. The role of ethnic insurgent groups in contesting Myanmar government rule in various border regions and the diverse patterns of cross-­border mobility that connect Myanmar’s borderlands to the wider region have created distinct borderland societies that exist outside of traditional nation state definitions and models. This chapter explores these unresolved issues of contested legitimacy in many of Myanmar’s border regions. While conservative forces project culture as static, in reality ethnic and cultural identities are being continuously transformed. This rate of change has significantly increased since Myanmar’s reforms in 2011 with new technologies and globalising forces challenging long-­held assumptions regarding social conventions and authority. As Violet Cho and David Gilbert demonstrate in Chapter 15, new platforms have led to new and creative expressions of ethnic identity that undermine social norms, although social media are also being used for the dissemination of hate speech and other less tolerant views. A key social shift since 2011, and one upon which other changes have depended, has been the transition from a country with virtually no freedom of speech to one of the most open media environments in Southeast Asia. The ability for people to speak out and the media to publish relatively freely has underpinned the entire reform agenda, since many other freedoms are impossible without this fundamental right. As Thomas Kean and Mratt Kyaw Thu demonstrate in Chapter 16, however, progress has stagnated and journalists and activists are still being prosecuted and imprisoned under vaguely worded laws and the country’s dubious judicial

10   Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly

system. The case of two local Reuters journalists being imprisoned for exposing human rights abuses by the military against the Rohingya, in the context of the ethnic cleansing in Rakhine State, sent a clear message to journalists that doing their job was a hazardous activity. Only after over 500 days in prison and a concerted international campaign, were the journalists freed during a presidential amnesty that liberated over 6,500 prisoners. While new reputable media outlets have emerged the dissemination of ‘fake news’ through the new chaotic media landscape and social media provides challenges for those promoting human rights and respect for diversity. In Chapter 17, the last in the volume, we address the crucial issue of the military abuses against the Rohingya community in Rakhine State and the social and political implications for the future of Myanmar. As is pointed out repeatedly throughout this volume, the treatment of the Rohingya undermines progress made in all other areas of Myanmar’s development. Societally, it is difficult for the international community to accept that many people in Myanmar adhere to a cosmopolitan concern for all fellow humans, given their support for a military and government accused of genocide, even allowing for low levels of education and decades of misinformation. Economically, the flow of foreign investment from western countries has diminished in recent years. Companies are reticent to be associated with the military and the government, which is a further impediment to economic growth and development. Politically, it is difficult for local politicians to embrace policies founded on democracy and human rights when they mostly seem unmoved by human suffering and distress at such a scale. Through its consideration of these many important issues, this book seeks to counter the rise of misinformation in Myanmar society and in aspects of the commentary about the country. The demonisation of the Rohingya has been made possible by a technological and political confluence fed by deeply held prejudices against Muslims within a ‘Buddhist-­majority’ country. Myanmar is not alone in succumbing to racism and chauvinism fed by social media trolls and ‘fake news’. The rise of Donald Trump and the political support for the Brexit vote similarly represent, for many analysts, the triumph of nationalism and xenophobia over cosmopolitan liberal values of acceptance and diversity (Baker 2011; Norris and Inglehart 2019), in countries with long histories of democracy, high education levels and a free press. Myanmar is therefore likely to continue to struggle with internal forces that constantly push against the creation of stable, inclusive and effective institutions. What is left are well-­entrenched economic and political interests, whether in the style of ethnic armed group leaders, military generals, or the NLD’s ‘iron-­fisted gerontocracy’ (Farrelly 2016b), that prove largely impervious to criticism, whether from near or far. Instead what has emerged is a strong coalition of sometimes contradictory concentrations of power that have, together, sought to constrain opportunities for reform in areas that might end up undermining the long-­term dominance of the same familiar faces. Under what will remain challenging political conditions, this volume seeks to offer a nuanced and accessible overview of contemporary Myanmar, providing diverse analysis by the world’s leading scholars. We hope their insights will be

Contemporary Myanmar: the transition   11

useful to scholars, students, journalists, diplomats, policymakers and interested members of the general public, including in Myanmar. It is clear that attacks on Muslims and other vulnerable minorities have complicated Myanmar’s political, economic and social situation, and greatly diminished Aung San Suu Kyi’s personal standing around the world. While her unflinching approach to the Rohingya conundrum remains popular within the country, it is difficult to see Myanmar fulfilling its potential as a modern, developed and democratic state until it celebrates diversity as a source of strength rather than a threat to unity.

Note 1 Myanmar was known as Burma until the military junta changed the country’s name in 1989. We use the term Burma for this earlier historical period but Myanmar elsewhere in the volume. We acknowledge that this terminology is contested in some political circles but within Myanmar, and the wider Asian region, the name Myanmar is overwhelmingly used and we therefore employ it here. For a different approach, and one that we judge also has great merit, see Thant Myint-­U (2020: IX–XI).

References AFP 2020. ‘Rohingya camps in Bangladesh put under “complete lockdown” ’, Channel News Asia, 10 April. Baker, Gideon 2011. Politicising Ethics in International Relations: Cosmopolitanism as Hospitality. Routledge: London and New York. David, Roman and Ian Holliday 2018. Liberalism and Democracy in Myanmar. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Farrelly, Nicholas 2015. ‘Furlongs on the road to digitopia’. The Myanmar Times, 22 June. Available from: www.mmtimes.com/opinion/15121-furlongs-­on-the-­road-to-­digitopia. html. Farrelly, Nicholas 2016a. ‘Myanmar’s media flexes its muscle’. The Myanmar Times, 16 February. Available from: www.mmtimes.com/opinion/18991-myanmar-­s-media-­ flexes-its-­muscle.html. Farrelly, Nicholas 2016b. ‘The NLD’s iron-­fisted gerontocracy’. The Myanmar Times, 1 February. Available from: www.mmtimes.com/opinion/18759-the-­nld-s-­iron-fisted-­ gerontocracy.html. Farrelly, Nicholas, Ian Holliday and Adam Simpson 2018. ‘Explaining Myanmar in flux and transition’. In Adam Simpson, Nicholas Farrelly and Ian Holliday (eds) Routledge Handbook of Contemporary Myanmar. London and New York: Routledge. Holliday, Ian 2011. Burma Redux: Global Justice and the Quest for Political Reform in Myanmar. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press. Human Rights Council 2018. Report of the Independent International Fact-­Finding Mission on Myanmar A/HRC/39/64. Geneva: UNHRC. Jones, Lee 2014. ‘The political economy of Myanmar’s transition’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 44(1): 144–70. Kipgen, Nehginpao 2018. ‘The quest for federalism in Myanmar’. Strategic Analysis 42(6): 612–26. Lintner, Bertil 1999. Burma in Revolt: Opium and Insurgency since 1948. Chiang Mai: Silkworm.

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McCarthy, Gerard and Nicholas Farrelly 2020. ‘Peri-­conflict peace: brokerage, development and illiberal ceasefires in Myanmar’s borderlands’. Conflict, Security & Development 20(1): 141–63. McCarthy, Gerard and Jacqueline Menager 2017. ‘Gendered rumours and the Muslim scapegoat in Myanmar’s transition’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 47(3): 396–412. Meehan, Patrick 2015. ‘Fortifying or fragmenting the state? The political economy of the opium/heroin trade in Shan State, Myanmar, 1988–2013’. Critical Asian Studies 47(2): 253–82. Norris, Pippa and Ronald Inglehart 2019. Cultural Backlash: Trump, Brexit, and Authoritarian Populism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Simpson, Adam 2017. Energy, Governance and Security in Thailand and Myanmar (Burma): A Critical Approach to Environmental Politics in the South. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Simpson, Adam 2019. ‘Facebook, the Rohingya, and internet blackouts in Myanmar’. The Interpreter, 21 October. Available from: www.lowyinstitute.org/the-interpreter/facebook-rohingya-and-internet-blackouts-myanmar, accessed 30 July 2020. Simpson, Adam and Susan Park 2013. ‘The Asian Development Bank as a global risk regulator in Myanmar’. Third World Quarterly 34: 1858–71. Simpson, Adam, Nicholas Farrelly and Ian Holliday (eds) 2018. Routledge Handbook of Contemporary Myanmar. London and New York: Routledge. Smith, Martin 1999. Burma: Insurgency and the Politics of Ethnicity. London: Zed Books. Smithuis, Frank 2020. ‘Southeast Asia’s COVID-­19 transmission dynamic shows one strategy doesn’t fit all’. Frontier Myanmar, 9 April. Thant Myint-­U 2020. The Hidden History of Burma: Race, Capitalism, and the Crisis of Democracy in the 21st Century. New York: W W Norton.  Walton, M J 2013. ‘The “wages of Burman-­ness”: ethnicity and Burman privilege in contemporary Myanmar’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 43(1): 1–27.

Part I

Politics

2 ELECTIONS AND POLITICAL REFORM New hopes, old fears Nicholas Farrelly

Introduction to political conflict Every country has its internal struggles. For some it is the divide between urban primacy and rural marginalisation. In others it is the difference between the mountains and the flatlands. In others there are stark cultural and political contrasts between coastal and inland regions. There are also places where the major differences fester along religious, linguistic, class and ethnic boundaries. These cross-­ cutting zones of belonging and exclusion usually need to be managed because there is no simple mechanism for making them disappear. In the most complicated social and geographic conditions it is possible that all of these internal struggles coexist. Myanmar enjoys that chequered endowment: a fiendish brew of political, social, economic and geographical complexity. Politics and war – as interlinked sets of processes for negotiating conflict – have often blurred together, with traumatic consequences for millions of Myanmar people. Creating an adequate foundation for elections and for political reform is a work in progress. There is no guarantee that such work will lead to a stable and consolidated democratic system, where regular elections allow for the peaceful transfer of power, and where a wide range of ethnic, religious, economic and geographical fault lines are well managed over time. Indeed, the prospects for Myanmar over the medium and long term, as described in other chapters in this volume, are likely to be very mixed, with vulnerable populations continuing to face many hardships. Myanmar is a multi-­ethnic, polyglot society, where national management over recent decades has been predicated on the enforcement of an all-­encompassing vision of belonging. Those who determined that improving their political and economic opportunities required a firm break from central government control regularly challenged this vision. Such tension – between a predominately Bamar leadership and population in the country’s ‘heartlands’ and the diverse peoples of

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the peripheries and uplands – is a defining feature of a heavily conflicted national project. Civil war was a primary response during the twentieth century when large armies carried the fight to government forces. Many of those groups had leftist inclinations alongside their understandable cries for greater autonomy in ethnic affairs. The names of some of the key groups make their initial claims clear: Kachin Independence Army, Karen National Liberation Army, and the New Mon State Army. The government worked to neuter their revolutionary appeals. The 1990s and 2000s were periods of regular compromise between central government and the forces of such ethnic resistance. Heartbreakingly, making the Myanmar political system work for the people has tested everyone who has ever tried. Since independence in 1948 there have been parliamentary, socialist and dictatorial experiments that led to what Turnell (2011) described as a ‘fifty-­year authoritarian trap’. In their own ways, each political system failed to adequately manage the differences between peoples and places, and between aspirations for local control and the need for compromise with the requirements of an effective central government apparatus. In response, the military, especially after the coup of 1962, grew to become Myanmar’s premier political, logistical, administrative and executive institution (see Farrelly 2013). Its unwillingness to share power with ethnic minorities or democratic opponents was predicated on the idea that only firm management could stop the fragmentation and ultimate discombobulation of the union. That union draws together the seven Bamar majority regions and the seven ethnic majority states, all locked into the one ideology of ‘union spirit’ (Cheesman 2002; Holliday 2007). Changes in the military’s role in recent years are sometimes judged purely cosmetic, although there are also some clear shifts in the space granted to civilian politicians, such as Aung San Suu Kyi, and to the wide range of ethnic political voices that have, since 2010, become much more welcome in Myanmar’s key political spaces, including Naypyitaw (Ruzza et al. 2019; Farrelly 2018). Over the past decade, the level of resistance to these centralising tendencies has also varied, but there have been a few times when Myanmar has seemed to come close to being at peace with itself. To the great frustration of the country’s optimists, the history of political management in Myanmar offers countless phases of peace building and ceasefire negotiation after which the central government has struggled to convince minorities that their best interests can be defended in a single system (see South 2018). While that pattern has largely been retained in recent years, the electoral compact offered by the 2008 constitution has seen a dilution of calls for independence and a considerable expansion of the formal role for ethnic interests (Kipgen 2015). The prevailing ambition, shared by almost all of Myanmar’s major political actors, is now for a federal union which devolves much greater power to local governments. Negotiating this type of reform has proved slow under conditions that have been described as a ‘double transition’ towards peace and away from dictatorship (as described in Dukalskis 2017). The military, for its part, has been reluctant to surrender hard-­won advantages in its own political role.

Elections and political reform   17

That political role has been tested, most recently, in the development of the new electoral system, girded by the 2008 constitution (for early analysis see Taylor 2012). This political compact, which was endorsed at a deeply flawed plebiscite in the wake of Cyclone Nargis, allows much more space for civilian political parties than was possible in the decades between the military coup of 1962 and the general election held in 2010 (see Crouch 2019). To explain the limitations of this democracy, it is common to emphasise that the military still controls an appointed share of 25 per cent of seats in what are otherwise popularly elected legislatures (Croissant and Kamerling 2013; Huang 2017). This gives the military a handbrake on any unwelcome changes, including to the constitution itself. The political and economic changes of the past decade have shown how elections can be used to shift social and economic sentiment, while also allowing for the management of deep-­ seated conflict. While there is a growing appreciation that the patterns of conflict that have prevailed since 1948 are no longer tolerable, Myanmar is still a long way from finding the right balance between its many competing interests. In 2015, the government of President Thein Sein signed a partial Nationwide Ceasefire Agreement (as discussed in Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung 2017). It includes a number of key anti-­government armed groups, but other major resistance players were reluctant to agree terms. The most notable exclusions were the United Wa State Army, the Kachin Independence Army and the Shan State Army – North. These three groups, with a combined armed strength of over 40,000, enjoy resupply and some level of political support from across the border in China. That has long made them difficult for the authorities in Naypyitaw to handle. Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD) has, in its years managing the peace process since 2016, struggled to find the right level of accommodation. These persistent difficulties illustrate the fraught inheritances resulting from decades of military misrule. These difficulties still combine awkwardly with the centrifugal forces at play across Myanmar’s borderlands.

Myanmar under military rule: political stalemates When the army formally seized control in March 1962, General Ne Win sought to stamp out ethnic secession and any political ideology that did not conform to what became, over time, a rigid socialist doctrine, fusing aspects of traditional supernaturalism with peculiarly isolationist cultural politics (Perry 2007). Crackdowns against political uprisings, most notably in 1974 and 1988, radicalised factions of the urban population who came to resent the economic deterioration of what was once a relatively successful trading nation. The events of 1988 proved pivotal in a number of ways. For a start, they catapulted Aung San Suu Kyi – until then an obscure figure that had spent most of her life outside the country – to national prominence. She resurrected her family’s claim to custodianship of the national ethic while a story of her democratic righteousness captivated attention around the world, leading to the award of the 1991 Nobel Peace Prize. The year 1988 also saw a new generation of

18   Nicholas Farrelly

senior military officers, such as Than Shwe, Khin Nyunt, Thein Sein and Shwe Mann, move into increasingly senior positions (for a key assessment see Maung Aung Myoe 1999). These famous names are part of the officer cohort that proved crucial to the re-­ entrenchment of military power and the perpetuation of dictatorship during the 1990s and 2000s. While they continued to talk of democratic transformation it was not until 2008 that a new constitution was put to a heavily stage-­managed and scripted referendum, one which endorsed a useful outcome for the incremental reformists who were then growing in confidence among the senior military leadership. The elections that followed in 2010 were neither free nor fair, but they served the purpose of managing the gradual withdrawal of direct rule by military government, and also gave Thein Sein, a long-­serving General in the ruling junta, a chance to repackage elite politics in ways deemed more respectable by many local and foreign democrats. It was only once military interests had been secured that the top generals allowed the abolition of that junta – the State Peace and Development Council – and the creation of a new legislative and executive structure. After much delay, violence and frustration, Myanmar embarked on the hard road towards a new model of democratic rule and ethnic peace. For those who want to understand the constellation of power relations in Myanmar, there were, from around 2005 onwards, new opportunities to appreciate the internal workings of the regime. Myanmar civil society groups, which had grown slowly in the shadows of military rule, began to take a more assertive posture. Among their number it was Myanmar Egress that sought to create new spaces for social and political activity. Based in Yangon, it built a formidable operation to mentor social activists, offer training to aspiring journalists and broaden the interactions between Myanmar’s closed intellectual system and the rest of the world. At the time it endured withering criticism from those who imagined the only way to end military rule was to spark a street-­level rebellion. The idea that Myanmar was primed for revolution encouraged sporadic waves of defiant protest. At the same time the Myanmar government gingerly embraced new types of international support. The post-­cyclone Nargis humanitarian response led by ASEAN (Association of Southeast Asian Nations) and the United Nations gave senior leaders a rare chance to interact, on a regular basis and in circumstances that were not politically threatening, with key international brokers. On all sides, this helped to create conditions for smoother interactions. Each time they endorsed a new initiative or came to some agreement about long-­term policy, historical paranoia started to fade. Picking up on these wider trends, analysts started to look more closely for indications that the system was ripe for change. To start with, such analysis was naturally hesitant. It was difficult to imagine the senior generals relinquishing their power without adequate safeguards. From their perspective, personal security remained a top priority. The resources devoted to bodyguards for regime figures and their families were not just for show, they were supposed to avert assassination from enemies, near and far. Partly because of the way Aung San’s death reverberated in the national story, but also because political

Elections and political reform   19

killings continued throughout the dictatorial period, they tended to take few chances. For the senior military commanders, there was also a fear that if they surrendered power prematurely or without the right concessions they could be vulnerable to prosecution for alleged war crimes. This issue has not gone away but current indications suggest there will be no immediate move to account for historical, or more recent, crimes. There is also the matter of wealth accumulated during the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC) period. Even though they only ever received modest salaries, the top military leadership have enriched themselves greatly. Crony capitalism, as practised under the SPDC, offered almost infinite opportunities for generating illicit income. These were not the conditions that suggested the SPDC could give up its power without a fight. What could not be seen in 2009 and 2010 is that the disciplined and methodical approach to political change was going according to plan. The 2008 constitution had been written to protect military interests even if the NLD won an election on the scale of their 1990 victory. It turned out that in 2010 the NLD leadership, with Aung San Suu Kyi still under house arrest, opted to boycott the poll. Their decision was the product, in one sense, of the peculiar circumstances that saw an American tourist, John Yettaw swim across Inya Lake to Aung San Suu Kyi’s residence. This gave the military a chance to extend her period of house arrest, claiming that she had broken the terms of her incarceration. People wondered whether this was a set-­up, an elaborate manoeuver by the regime to keep Aung San Suu Kyi out of politics for another period. Analysts scratched their chins, bemused by the unlikely turn of events.

Thein Sein and the USDP: new hopes With the NLD out of the election, any vote in 2010 would struggle for legitimacy. When the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP) stormed to power it looked like any suggestion of democratic awakening had been premature. A wave of frustration followed, especially for those who had thought the minor democratic parties would poll better. In a vote that was neither free not fair there was little to celebrate except for the fact that the dominant military figures in Naypyitaw would now be forced to adjust to a large group of civilian players in the centre of its decision making. The USDP delegation looked unpromising: stacked with senior SPDC figures, long-­time Union Solidarity and Development Association operatives and an assortment of mid-­level government functionaries. Its composition suggested it would be no more representative, or assertive, than the delegates who met for the heavily constrained Constitutional Convention. Indeed, in the early phase the Union Assembly could have taken that role, diminished by its distance from executive authority and bogged down by procedural formalities. There was no guarantee that the legislature would work. When it first met, journalists wrote of a ‘15 minute parliament’. The first stage of reform was easy to ridicule. What happened next is important for everything that follows in this volume, for the wider story of Myanmar’s development. Rather than serving to reinforce the

20   Nicholas Farrelly

dictates of executive government, the legislature began to present critical questions and suggestions to senior decision makers. Ministers and deputy ministers were summoned to the Union Assembly, and to its upper and lower houses, to report on the progress of the reform effort. With hundreds of people convening as elected representatives each day, they began to strategise about how best to design the new legislation that could sustain the transition (for detailed discussion see Farrelly 2014). External advisors were recruited. Energetic and talented legislators, many of whom had spent their entire careers taking orders, were now able to offer their own perspectives, speaking at length in debates about all aspects of national affairs. The military’s designated representatives usually sat and watched the spectacle, but also became key players in the informal conversations that echoed around the Union Assembly. Journalists started to pay more attention to what was happening in Naypyitaw. They gained access to the Naypyitaw Council Guesthouse where, in the evening, it was possible to discuss the day’s events directly with the people leading the debate. Over time, these debates created antagonism between the executive and the legislature. This was more apparent once former General Shwe Mann took the speakership of the Union Assembly in 2013. Competition between his faction and those who supported President Thein Sein rumbled along. It would be a few years before their final showdown. Naypyitaw is designed to reflect a new configuration of Myanmar power; power that rests with grand institutions, with the military and with a constitutional plan for the entrenchment of central authority (Farrelly and Chit Win 2018). Inaugurated in 2005, the city is expansive, almost open-­ended, sprawling across a vast territory in the middle of the country. As a capital, it is an effort to rebalance away from the coastal areas, too polluted by foreign influences, and back towards the traditional heartland of Myanmar’s own civilisations. Yangon, the former capital, is nowadays focused on economic and cultural links with the outside world, while Naypyitaw is where the big decisions are made. Since the election in 2015 of Aung San Suu Kyi’s NLD a form of power sharing has taken hold. The coalition of militarist, conservative, chauvinist and democratic forces have found common cause in their shared nationalism, and in their responses to the Rohingya crisis. Where other policy questions demand debate, a strong consensus around the Rohingya has made dissent increasingly marginal. Life in Naypyitaw, a city tailor-­made for protective security, gives decision makers every opportunity to avoid real scrutiny. Aung San Suu Kyi, once a progressive icon, now shuffles anxiously in public, avoiding any but the most curated interactions. Yet it was under President Thein Sein that Naypyitaw’s key decision makers began to make more regular international trips. In 2012 and 2013 all of the top leaders travelled widely, including Aung San Suu Kyi. With shifts in the political climate in Naypyitaw, followed by new enthusiasm among investors, foreign officials and even diehard SPDC critics, a newly optimistic turn began to define the analytical effort. With Aung San Suu Kyi elected to the lower house in 2012, and with restrictions eased on the internet and media, mainstream appreciations of Myanmar’s changes were reflected in increasingly bullish accounts of what was

Elections and political reform   21

p­ ossible. This matched the first major wave of foreign investor interest that sought to find new opportunities in the country. At the same time, the analytical industry around Myanmar was growing quickly. Political and economic risk consultancies began to pay more attention, meeting an appetite among companies and governments around the world. Sophisticated due diligence, from project level considerations right up to top-­tier decision making, all required more effort than ever before. Journalists who had often struggled for access were increasingly welcome to report on the full gamut of issues. The Rakhine State remained sensitive. In a familiar pattern, the USDP government made life difficult for humanitarian efforts in that corner of the country, hoping to stem the flow of criticism.

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: frustrated dreams There was a time when it was comforting to assume that electoral success for the NLD at the general election in 2015 would lead to prompt resolution of ethnic political conflicts. That was always unlikely. For instance, in Rakhine State, where inter-­ethnic tensions have remained high, the Rakhine population carries long-­ standing hesitation about Aung San Suu Kyi. It is one part of the country where pictures of ‘The Lady’ are rarely spotted. Similar sentiments are found elsewhere: many ethnic sub-­nationalists long voiced scepticism about the priorities of the NLD and the policy nous of its leader. It is relevant that she could always also face disquiet among her Bamar supporters if perceptions were to grow that her instinct is to deal gently with secessionists. For Aung San Suu Kyi, as for many of Myanmar’s other Bamar leaders, the primacy of the majority is an electoral reality and efforts to artfully sidestep the implications of alienating Bamar voters remain high risk. Taking into account the varied and contested interests of government, military, ethnic and democratic players in Myanmar, there is no obvious solution to the long-­term problem of peaceful interaction and political consensus. Under these conditions the prospect of ongoing conflict is real and worrying. Such conflict has the potential to undermine the basis on which Myanmar’s transition from entrenched military regime to a more inclusive and participatory political system is predicated. The overall impression that conflict could generate new conditions of turbulence and unease means that the basic problem of integrating different ethnic groups is as contentious for the current generation of leaders as it was for their forebears. The presentation of inter-­ethnic harmony and unity through the uniformed ethnic leaders in the legislatures is a small, positive step. Yet it may, over time, merely mask the deeper antagonism and disquiet that makes managing Myanmar a persistently tricky challenge. For the long term, Myanmar’s political leadership therefore needs to more effectively manage the claims being made by elected representatives from ethnic areas. There are still relatively few ethnic minority legislators at the union level, and after the 2015 election ethnic leaders were greatly disappointed to see so few of their allies elected or appointed to formal political roles. The dominance of the USDP in the 2010 general election, and then the NLD in 2015, ensured that

22   Nicholas Farrelly

minorities are, for now, still marginal voices. Nonetheless their widespread cooperation with the 2008 constitutional drafting process, and their resigned acquiescence to the goals of the new military-­designed system means they will expect a greater opportunity to be significant players on the national stage. But, for now, it is apparent that Naypyitaw’s centralising ideological, symbolic and policy registers are, in the lived reality, ill-­informed about borderland societies and their aspirations. Across Naypyitaw’s social and political spectrum, the result is a national politics of border and ethnic governance where local conditions are regularly conflated and confused, and where a repertoire of naïve commonsense substitutes for more effective policy responses to what remain some of the world’s most persistently conflicted areas. Myanmar’s new political institutions may, one day, make a profoundly positive contribution to reforming national governance, including in ethnic minority and borderland areas. Sadly, especially after Aung San Suu Kyi’s 2015 election win, the city has offered a limited perspective on the national tapestry of culture, politics and geography. Myanmar government officials have, under these conditions, encouraged their foreign interlocutors to choose their words carefully, including use of the word Rohingya, to avoid further antagonising the situation. Aung San Suu Kyi has proved a consistent, but usually quiet, voice against critical judgements. Her team counsels the world that the policy landscape in Naypyitaw, defined by the permanent dance with the armed forces, cannot sustain a serious discussion of these issues. To ensure the politics of military intervention are avoided, Myanmar officials warn of the style of ‘coup culture’ all too familiar in Thailand, the common suggestion is that patient, private, polite interaction is the best option. Talk of sanctions and other policy interventions fails to get anyone very far. Policy in Myanmar is therefore only gradually re-­emerging from the limited expectations of the dictatorial period. Through those decades the public discussion of policy topics was greatly curtailed. The state-­run media provided a narrow range of perspectives. It became adept at repeating the remarks of senior military figures as they toured the country to inspect development projects and open new infrastructure. These stage-­managed public portrayals of policy implementation starved the Myanmar public of real information about the decisions that affected their lives. However, in recent times, a large number of important discussions have occurred on topics ranging from environmental protection to human rights, the character of the voting system and the need for better regulation of foreign investment. In all cases there are still well-­understood ‘red lines’. Transgressions risk alienation, or more direct sanctions. There is worry that as these limits on the public debate of policy are reinforced there will be certain areas that become permanent ‘no go’ areas. For some ethnic politicians the risk that discussions of federalism will be judged too contentious for public consideration means that they are looking for new ways to raise these issues. In ethnic areas, the lack of meaningful reporting has been even more acute, and only compensated in recent years by the emergence of exiled ethnic media organisations, usually funded by foreign sources, that keep a critical eye on changes inside

Elections and political reform   23

the country. The most important of these groups, media organisations like Kachin News Group and the Shan Herald Agency for News, flourished alongside other exile media like Mizzima and The Irrawaddy. In all cases the editorial priority was maintaining pressure on powerful interests in Myanmar judged to be mismanaging the country and stripping local people of their basic rights. Activist concerns and the need to mobilise against the Myanmar military and its proxies have coloured the treatment of substantive policy issues. Under Aung San Suu Kyi, much attention is also being put on finding solutions to the country’s profound economic challenges. This is a priority for all ethnic groups but it is clear that the distribution of wealth to ethnic groups, especially those with well-­organised armies, will take time to resolve. Some of Myanmar’s ethnic leaders are now well-­informed about the economic arrangements put in place elsewhere, including in Aceh in Indonesia and Mindanao in the Philippines to support peace negotiations. They anticipate that similar resource sharing agreements could be brokered to support the economic advancement of their own ethnic groups.

Conclusion: future challenges Since the November 2015 general election, the leaders of Myanmar have faced important and uncomfortable choices about precisely how the country’s political, economic and cultural transformation proceeds. The elections were designed by the senior leadership of the armed forces and their advisors in the bureaucracy as a key moment in the decade-­old ‘seven-­step roadmap to democracy’ (Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung and Maung Aung Myoe 2008). While the steps have not always been taken as convincingly as democrats would like, the gradual inclusion of non-­ military strands to the national political conversation is having an effect. In Naypyitaw, the status of uniformed military personnel, especially the most senior officers, has shifted in key respects as civilian politicians have taken their places in government. With President Thein Sein, in power from 2011 to 2016, the executive remained under the strict guidance of former military officers who embraced their newly rehabilitated status as civilian reformers. After the electoral triumph of Aung San Suu Kyi’s NLD they were replaced by an ensemble of activist, establishment and chauvinist leaders who have struggled to adequately respond to the grim centrifugal dimension of Myanmar political and cultural life. Every Myanmar government since independence from Britain in 1948 has confronted the same basic set of challenges. There is much that remains uncertain but what can be said with confidence is that the most recent stage of reform has not gone smoothly. In the years after the 2015 election, the fragile and incomplete character of this reform process has undermined the earlier confidence expressed by many foreign observers. While many people are still intrigued by what a more peaceful, prosperous and democratic Myanmar can achieve, there are also gloomy and unavoidable questions about the current elected government’s inability to adequately handle matters of ethnic and

24   Nicholas Farrelly

spatial complexity. While under President Thein Sein the number of high-­level delegations visiting Naypyitaw and Yangon increased dramatically, with an upswing in collaborative activities, including in sensitive military, commercial and cultural spheres, the situation in Myanmar has shifted quickly since fresh violence in the northern Rakhine State in 2017 (for more analysis of the Rohingya Crisis in Rakhine State see Chapter 17). Harsh judgements have followed, including against Aung San Suu Kyi (which should not be surprising; see Lee 2014). Myanmar’s precipitous drop, when it comes to global esteem, has many different effects, but is especially clear in those areas where engagement since the election of the Thein Sein government in 2010 has produced positive outcomes. That engagement has been particularly apparent across a wide range of spheres including education, health, infrastructure, governance and the media. Major conferences have been held in the country, including the World Economic Forum in 2013, to help encourage communication and collaboration between the Myanmar elite and those from outside who have wondered whether there are promising opportunities for investment or other initiatives. Universities were particularly enthusiastic about rejuvenating Myanmar’s sad educational system, and major investments have been made in both the physical infrastructure and the human capabilities required for success. The number of region journalists in the country, many of whom worked for local media outlets, also helped to ensure that thoughtful analysis of what was happening in Yangon, Naypyitaw, Mandalay and elsewhere could rely on the raw materials, the proverbial ‘first draft of history’, produced by the media. For a time, journals and newspapers flourished. Inevitably, the major global technology platforms made merry with the liberalisation of the internet and the roll-­out of more robust, nation-­wide telecommunications networks. That roll-­out had many different effects, including on the flow of disinformation and propaganda. The challenges presented by vast, new flows of political information have been a major theme throughout Myanmar’s recent experience. Abrupt changes to Internet access – which in the first decade of the 2000s was available with any consistency only to the wealthiest people in the country – were facilitated by the nationwide embrace of new devices and connectivity. The politics of the teashop, for so long a place of gossip and camaraderie, were transferred to unbounded online realms, with Facebook quickly emerging as the dominant platform. Its integration of Burmese fonts and its intuitive, socially meaningful attention to circles of affinity helped to ensure that by 2015 it had an unassailable position in Myanmar’s information economy. The General Election of that year, when Aung San Suu Kyi’s team proved so successful, was the first nationwide political engagement to draw so much of its vigour from online debates. While the Internet provided opportunities for Myanmar voters to access more information and opinion than ever before, it also created spaces for sowing deliberate confusion and propagating dubious misinformation. Aung San Suu Kyi was often the target of such campaigns. Other service providers, especially those looking to monetise mass markets, subsequently did very well. Ride-hailing apps, as an example, surged in popularity, at least in urban Myanmar, once everyone with an Internet-connected mobile phone was ready for that round of commercial innovation.

Elections and political reform   25

The country’s recent rounds of political campaigning have embraced more of the possibilities of these new technologies. Within this context, the highly contentious situation of the Rohingya has proved a very significant political, diplomatic and strategic focus. Leaders from the military, from most of the country’s democratic political parties, and from a wide range of ethnic organisations, have supported a set of policies which have diminished Myanmar’s international standing. Aung San Suu Kyi’s personal reputation has been a further casualty of the political debates about the future of Myanmar’s most persecuted minority group. After Aung San Suu Kyi and her government were elected in 2015 there was hope she would use her then esteemed global position, and powerful electoral mandate, to seek better resolutions to such entrenched, and seemingly hopeless, stalemates. There remains near unanimous backing for the exclusion of the Rohingya from the formal national race categories that provide a level of protection to other ethnic and religious minorities. While Aung San Suu Kyi invested greatly in a nationwide peace process that sought, and largely failed, to find compromises with many of the country’s armed ethnic groups, very little attention was given to the festering disquiet along the Myanmar-Bangladesh border. When, in 2016 and then even more dramatically in 2017, this led to large-scale violence, Aung San Suu Kyi appeared to join a coalition of interests committed to the expulsion of Rohingya from the Myanmar portion of those borderlands. The reputational consequences of these decisions are important to consider, and yet there are now deeper lessons about the fragility of Myanmar’s democratic order and the shape of its future politics. Finding the right balance between the majority and the many minorities has, since before independence in 1948, proved the constant battle for local policy-makers. The recent Rohingya crisis has provided clear evidence of the effectiveness of the national races ideology: it is a potent mechanism for policing Myanmar’s own expectations about who belongs. Political leaders perceive that there is little benefit, given popular support for the official versions of ethnic categorisation, in presenting any more complex or pragmatic response. Instead, at every opportunity, Myanmar’s political leaders seek to reinforce the shibboleths that shape most Myanmar appreciations of ‘race and religion’ in a framework now deeply politicised by the country’s Buddhist chauvinists, but also accepted, to a large extent, by more moderate figures, and even by leaders across the religious and ethnic spectrum. There is also some direct criticism of the government or the military on these matters, but it tends not to be accepted within the narrower range of perspectives voiced in Myanmar’s elected assemblies, or in the mainstream media. It remains a complex and fraught situation. Realistic appraisals of Myanmar’s political and reformist trajectory and prospects should also indicate that while some political and economic reforms have been more successful than many critics anticipated, the elected government is far from getting to grips with the country’s fundamental and foundational problem: the conundrum of ethnic division. Thant Myint-­U suggests that it is the dual issues of ‘race and inequality’ that ‘risk a failed state in the heart of Asia’ (Thant Myint-­U 2020: 258). Avoiding that outcome is a grave responsibility. Yet there

26   Nicholas Farrelly

is the persistent conundrum which has created the underlying conditions for ethnic cleansing in Rakhine State and for the potent, almost universal, backlash against international critics. Myanmar now faces the challenge of building robust democratic institutions at a time when there are grave misgivings among many former supporters about the value of further investment in the country’s elected leaders, including Aung San Suu Kyi. For international policymakers, whether at the United Nations or foreign ministries in places like Washington, London, Brussels and Canberra, the election of the NLD-­led coalition government in November 2015 was supposed to be a big step in the right direction. Governments in Southeast Asia also welcomed the election result, hopeful that Myanmar would dispense with its pariah reputation, once and for all. The regional powers of China, India and Indonesia all obviously had other interests to secure, but there was no suggestion that NLD would not prove eager to accept their input. It was a rare moment when the outside world would agree that Myanmar looked to be on a more positive trajectory. The peaceful transfer of power from President Thein Sein to the Aung San Suu Kyi dominated regime also looked good. Hard-­headed analysts still warned that things could go wrong, with three areas most often singled out for attention: the peace process, the role of the armed forces and the Rohingya. These issues still define Myanmar’s internal political management, but it is the profound deterioration in conditions for the Rohingya which is most damaging to the country’s overall reputation.

References Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung 2017. ‘Signs of life in Myanmar’s nationwide ceasefire agreement? Finding a way forward’. Critical Asian Studies 49(3): 379–95. Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung and Maung Aung Myoe 2008. ‘Myanmar in 2007: A Turning Point in the “Roadmap”?’ Asian Survey 48(1): 13–19. Cheesman, Nick 2002. ‘Seeing “Karen” in the union of Myanmar’. Asian Ethnicity 3(2): 99–220. Croissant, Aurel and Jil Kamerling 2013. ‘Why do military regimes institutionalize? Constitution-­making and elections as political survival strategy in Myanmar’. Asian Journal of Political Science 21(2): 105–25. Crouch, Melissa 2019. The Constitution of Myanmar: A Contextual Analysis. London: Bloomsbury Publishing. Dukalskis, Alexander 2017. ‘Myanmar’s double transition: political liberalization and the peace process’. Asian Survey 57(4): 716–37. Farrelly, Nicholas 2013. ‘Discipline without democracy: military dominance in post-­colonial Burma’. Australian Journal of International Affairs 67(3): 312–26. Farrelly, Nicholas 2014. ‘An ode to the unsung heroes of Naypyitaw’s Hluttaw’. The Myanmar Times. Available from: www.mmtimes.com/in-­depth/9940-an-­ode-to-­theunsung-­heroes-of-­nay-pyi-­taw-s-­hluttaw.html. Farrelly, Nicholas 2018. ‘The capital’. In Adam Simpson, Nicholas Farrelly and Ian Holliday (eds) Routledge Handbook of Contemporary Myanmar. London: Routledge, 80–8. Farrelly, Nicholas and Chit Win 2018. ‘Disciplining democracy: explaining the rhythms of Myanmar’s First Hluttaw, 2011–2016’. In Sara Bice, Avery Poole and Helen Sullivan

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(eds) Public Policy in the ‘Asian Century’: Concepts, Cases, Futures. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 87–117. Holliday, Ian 2007 ‘National unity struggles in Myanmar: a degenerate case of governance for harmony in Asia’. Asian Survey 47(3): 374–92. Huang, Roger Lee 2017. ‘Myanmar’s way to democracy and the limits of the 2015 elections’. Asian Journal of Political Science 25(1): 25–44. Kipgen, Nehginpao 2015. ‘Ethnic nationalities and the peace process in Myanmar’. Social Research: An International Quarterly 82(2): 399–425. Lee, Ronan 2014. ‘A politician, not an icon: Aung San Suu Kyi’s silence on Myanmar’s Muslim Rohingya’. Islam and Christian–Muslim Relations 25(3): 321–33. Maung Aung Myoe 1999. The Tatmadaw in Myanmar since 1988: An Interim Assessment. Canberra: Strategic and Defence Studies Centre, Australian National University. Perry, Peter John 2007. Myanmar (Burma) since 1962: The Failure of Development. Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. Ruzza, Stefano, Giuseppe Gabusi and Davide Pellegrino 2019. ‘Authoritarian resilience through top-­down transformation: making sense of Myanmar’s incomplete transition’. Italian Political Science Review/Rivista Italiana di Scienza Politica 49(2): 193–209. South, Ashley 2018. ‘ “Hybrid Governance” and the politics of legitimacy in the Myanmar peace process’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 48(1): 50–66. Taylor, Robert H 2012. ‘Myanmar: from army rule to constitutional rule?’ Asian Affairs 43(2): 221–36. Thant Myint-­U 2020. The Hidden History of Burma: Race, Capitalism, and the Crisis of Democracy in the 21st Century. London: Atlantic Books. Turnell, Sean 2011. ‘Myanmar’s fifty-­year authoritarian trap’. Journal of International Affairs 65(1): 79–92.

3 THE MILITARY Institution and politics Maung Aung Myoe

Introduction The conventional wisdom and official historiography in Myanmar accorded the birth of the Japanese-­trained Burma Independence Army (BIA) on 27 December 1941 as the origin of the present day Myanmar Armed Forces (commonly known as the Tatmadaw) in its genealogy. However, despite its origin and growth in the wartime period (1941–45), undergoing various transformations in the names of Burma Defence Army (BDA), Burma National Army (BNA) and finally Patriotic Burmese Force (PBF ), at end of the war, the Japanese-­trained army was disbanded and amalgamated into the British-­trained Burma Army in accordance with the Kandy Agreement of September 1945. By the time of the country’s independence in 1948, the Tatmadaw was commanded mostly by British-­trained officers. Yet after independence communist armed revolution and ethnic secessionist rebellion, and mutiny associated with these insurgencies favoured the Japanese-­trained officers and they became instrumental, not only in holding the army together in the chaotic aftermath of independence, but also in saving the union from total disintegration. Japanese-­trained officers became central to all aspects of the Tatmadaw’s development. Starting with a modest number of troops and poorly equipped forces, the Tatmadaw has since grown significantly, not only in size and capability but also in political influence. Throughout the 70 years of its post-­colonial history, the Tatmadaw has emerged as the most durable and powerful political institution in Myanmar, shaping the political contours of the country. Since 1962, it has remained the most important institution in the management of the Myanmar state. In 2011, even after its carefully planned political transition in the country from direct military authoritarian rule to a more open democratic system, the Tatmadaw continues to play a leading national political role, although not without facing challenges. The coming of the

Military institution and politics   29

third generation of military leadership during this transitional period has also clearly impacted the direction the Tatmadaw has chosen to pursue. With both inheritance and legacies from Aung San/Ne Win generation of ‘revolutionary soldier’ and Saw Maung/Than Shwe generation of ‘counterinsurgency soldier’, the present Min Aung Hlaing/Soe Win generation of ‘standard-­army soldier’ has, slowly but surely, engaged in a process of institutional reform and adjustment, to be a better disciplined and fighting force, in order to deal with emerging national, regional and international political-­security realities as well as Myanmar socio-­economic situations,1 while at the same time managing delicate civil-­military relations and maintaining the ‘leading national political role’ of the Tatmadaw.

Myanmar under military rule: expanding strength and role The decline and fall of constitutional democracy as well as armed challenges against weak nationhood and state in the first decade of post-­colonial Myanmar eventually paved a way for the Tatmadaw to play a powerful political role and to establish military rule in the decades that followed. With political-­ideological development within the institution and confidence gained from the experience of running the state during the Caretaker Government (1958–60), among others, the Tatmadaw [leadership] was prepared to take over the Myanmar state when opportunity and disposition coincided in March 1962. Ever since the military coup on 2 March 1962, the Tatmadaw has taken centre stage in Myanmar politics and expanded its political role, precipitating a long period of military dominance in the country’s political process. The first 12 years of direct military rule (1962–74) was followed by the military-­backed single-­party authoritarian rule of the Burma Socialist ­Programme Party (BSPP) (1974–88). The Tatmadaw as backbone of the party and vanguard of the social revolution in Myanmar came to an end; it took over the  state amid widespread protest against the party and the demand for political liberalisation. The military’s takeover of the state in September 1988, which ended the 26-year rule of the BSPP, generally coincided with the change of military leadership, by phasing out those officers who had joined the Tatmadaw during the BIA/BDA era. A new generation of officers who joined the military in 1950s and advanced their careers primarily through decades of counter-­insurgency operations, took over leadership of the Tatmadaw. Force modernisation and role expansion were two defining activities of the Tatmadaw during military rule. At the time of the military takeover of the state in September 1988, in the name of the State Law and Restoration Council (SLORC) which was rejuvenated in November 1997 as the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC), the Tatmadaw was essentially a poorly equipped counter-­insurgency force with a modest structure of command and control. During 22 years of SLORC/SPDC rule, the Tatmadaw vastly expanded its force and command structure. It was reported that the Tatmadaw had manpower of 198,681 soldiers, manning 168 infantry battalions organised into nine regional commands and eight Light Infantry Divisions (LIDs)

30   Maung Aung Myoe

plus various units of corps and services, including navy and air force (Maung Aung Myoe 2009: 33). The structure was vastly expanded, not only infantry but also other corps and services, such as artillery, air defence, defence industries, and so on.2 By the end of the 2000s, the Tatmadaw appeared to have a war establishment (WE) of 800,000 troops. In actual strength, however, it could be much lower and an intelligent estimate could be around 400,000 troops. While details are hidden in secrecy, some keen observers estimate that there are more than 1,400 military units of various sizes, including about 700 infantry battalions and 100 air defence battalions. Despite its expansion, the Tatmadaw maintains its territorial force structure. It now operates 14 regional commands, 10 LIDs, 20 military operation commands (MOCs) and 6 regional operations commands (ROCs). The Tatmadaw has significantly strengthened its artillery corps and armour corps – about 15 divisions – and initiated a totally new service of air defence. For navy, from three naval region commands (NRCs) and a flotilla in 1988, it has now grown into five NRCs with five flotillas, a training command, a dockyard command and three fleets. For air force, from merely three air force bases, it has now expanded into a total of 12. In terms of the order of battle, all three services absorbed a significant number of military hardware. The force expansion and modernisation has been implemented since the early 1990s with overseas procurement of military hardware, largely from China and Russia while other sources include South Africa, Brazil, Ukraine and North Korea, and local supplies from defence industries, in accordance with a policy of local self-­sufficiency and production in small arms, artilleries and rockets (Maung Aung Myoe 2009; Selth 2002). The Tatmadaw also devoted resources for the local production of warships that enables the navy to build its frigates in its dockyard. Various types of tanks and carriers, rockets, air defence missiles and artilleries are bought for the army.3 Between 1988 and 2008, the air force took delivery of 210 aircraft of various types (Maung Aung Myoe 2009: 128). Then, within last ten years, it further decided to buy 164 aircraft.4 The navy also took delivery of 37 warships of different types, including two corvettes, within two decades of the military takeover in 1988 (Maung Aung Myoe 2009: 120–1). In the wake of Cyclone Nargis and the close encounter with Bangladesh warships in the disputed Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) in 2008, the Myanmar Navy (MN) has also pursued an aggressive naval expansion programme over the last ten years and has procured 45 different types of warship.5 The force modernisation is also reflected in the development of military doctrine. While the primary threat to security is internal in nature, the Tatmadaw threat perception has paid more attention to either proxy war or outright invasion by an external power, something similar to the West’s regime change operations. In this context, people’s war doctrine is considered as still relevant in overcoming the weakness in military capability. Yet it has adjusted to suit the modern conditions. Essentially, the Tatmadaw’s political role has expanded since 1958 when the military governed the country in the name of the Caretaker Government for two years. Since the military takeover of the state in March 1962 in the name of the

Military institution and politics   31

Revolutionary Council, the Tatmadaw has become the most dominant institution in Myanmar politics. The political inclination of the Tatmadaw can be traced all the way back to its early existence; it is historical, political and cultural (Maung Aung Myoe 2014). From its inception, the Tatmadaw has been a political force. Moreover, in order to take pride as a national patriotic force, the military leadership promoted the idea of political conviction as an essential component of the Tatmadaw. To be a patriotic army, the Tatmadaw must embrace political doctrine and play an active national political role. Between 1962 and 1988, during the rule of the BSPP, the Tatmadaw embraced the Burmese Way to Socialism (BWS) which served as the backbone of the party and vanguard of the socialist revolution in Myanmar. By 1988, it had abandoned the BWS, and instead adopted what is known as ‘Our Three Main National Causes’, namely: non-­disintegration of the union; non-­disintegration of national solidarity; and perpetuation of sovereignty (Min Maung Maung 1995: 320; Mya Win 1992: 4). Considering itself as guardian of the state and defender of the nation, the Tatmadaw is determined to play a leading role in national politics. In its self-­image projection, the Tatmadaw is the embodiment of the Myanmar state and saviour of the Myanmar nation from disintegration; therefore, it is state builder and nation builder. This [national] political role of the Tatmadaw is further enshrined in the 2008 constitution, setting a basic pattern of civil-­military relations in the time of political transition in Myanmar. During the SLORC/SPDC era, there was no such thing as civilian control of the military since no other institution or state apparatus was above the Tatmadaw. This ‘military dominance’ in the management of state affairs was a defining characteristic of civil­military relations in Myanmar for nearly a quarter of a century and it was essentially a state within a state or the embodiment of the state. The military’s political role has been thoroughly expanded and entrenched. The other important aspect of the Tatmadaw’s activities during military rule is the expansion of business activities (Maung Aung Myoe 2009; Bunte 2017; McCarthy 2019). The origins of the Tatmadaw’s commercial activities in Myanmar can be found in both ideological conviction and practical purpose. Ideologically, it is part of its dual functions; not only external defence but also internal security and nation building. Since the 1990s, after more than 25 years of abstaining from commercial activities – primarily through two business entities – the Tatmadaw has deeply penetrated into Myanmar economy and practically monopolised several lines of profitable businesses. They are the Union of Myanmar Economic Holding Ltd (UMEHL) and the Myanmar Economic Corporation (MEC). In some business areas, these two firms hold near monopoly (Maung Aung Myoe 2009). Revival of the Tatmadaw’s commercial interest is closely related to its unstated policy of self-­sufficiency. While the UMEHL is mostly for welfare of the troops, military units and veterans, the MEC is little known. The Tatmadaw’s commercial enterprises and interests obviously need good public relations if they want to be meaningful and socially acceptable. It is particularly true in the case of the UMEHL which has been a target of people’s criticism. The UMEHL needs a facelift and major reorganisation so that it can claim that, in the absence of the General

32   Maung Aung Myoe

­ rovidence Fund, it is a pension fund for the benefit and welfare of soldiers and P their families while ensuring that proceeds are not used for off-­budget military purposes. So far, there is no information on whether money generated by the UMEHL and MEC are for off-­budget military spending. Not all commercial enterprises under these entities are profit making. Yet they provide some employment opportunities. They could serve as venues for the resettlement of soldiers. When the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP) government introduced economic reforms, the Tatmadaw complied with these measures. Accordingly, the Tatmadaw decided to transform the UMEHL from a special company into a publicly listed company by paying tax to the government.

Thein Sein and the USDP: engaging institutional reform In November 2010, in accordance with the 2008 constitution, nationwide general elections were held for the political transition. Despite the NLD’s boycott, nearly 40 political parties contested the elections. In March 2011 the USDP won an absolute majority and formed a government led by Thein Sein as President. As key members of the USDP administration were former military personnel and shared similar political views, there were no major issues of civil-­military relations between the government and the military. As for the Tatmadaw, a new generation of officers took over leadership and has to deal with the legacy of the two decades of military rule. As far as the military is concerned, this USDP period witnesses institutional reform rather than force modernisation and role expansion. There was no major expansion of force structure while procurement of more advanced weapon systems and military hardware continued. The most significant aspect in this regard is doctrinal development. Under the banner of Building a Standard Army, the Tatmadaw modified its military doctrine, with less emphasis on anti-­guerrilla warfare. The doctrine is a shift from passive defence to active defence as far as the external threats are concerned and it appears to focus on mobility and firepower. At the same time, the Tatmadaw has tried to enhance its joint operational capability as testified by combined arms and joint services exercise. Nearly 15 years after the last joint services military exercises the Tatmadaw has been resuming biennial combined arms or joint services exercises since 2012 and annual naval exercise since 2014.6 For the first time in nearly 15 years, a batch of 21 female medical officers was commissioned on 1 March 2012. This practice continued on an annual basis. In addition, the recruitment of female nurses, through the army scholarship programme at the Institute of Nursing, was introduced in December 2012. The Universities Training Corps has also been reactivated after nearly 25 years, with military training programmes for university students, and more importantly, for the first time, female students are also targeted (Maung Aung Myoe 2014: 244). Females bave been recruited into three services of the Tatmadaw since October 2013 and the first intake of female officers was commissioned in August 2014 (Kyemon 29 August 2014: 5). The sixth intake was commissioned in December 2019 (Myawady

Military institution and politics   33

24 December 2019: 18). So far, a total of 610 non-­medical female officers have been commissioned into the Tatmadaw. In order to make the present Tatmadaw as the Pyidaungsu Tatmadaw (Union Armed Forces) to be more inclusive in gender and ethnicity, as well as to make a more disciplined force, the present Tatmadaw leadership has initiated a number of measures. Lately, the Commander-­in-Chief (C-­in-C) has repeatedly claimed that the Tatmadaw collectively represents ‘the entire national people of Myanmar and the state’ (Myawady 12 July 2018b: 20; Myawady 1 November 2018a: 18). However, for the last couple of decades, due to the lack of career mobilisation, incentive structure and affirmative actions, only a very few non-­Bamar nationalities have joined the Tatmadaw. In order to improve the situation, the Tatmadaw has been trying to recruit ethnic minorities for last 4–5 years. So far, it is essentially the Buddhist Bamar army yet there are several Rakhine, Mon, Shan (particularly red Shan) and other minor nationalities. Especially for officer corps, the Tatmadaw has started targeted recruitments for national minorities through the OTS (Officer Training School) track, openly advertising for graduates from the University for National Races and Degree Colleges for National Youth Development in Yangon and Sagaing. The 120th batch of OTS (in early 2016) was the first to undertake such targeted recruitment. Only a dozen graduates from these institutions joined the military. This targeted recruitment continues and the Tatmadaw has been making more effort to make it a truly multi-­nationalities armed force. One of the measures to improve motivation and career advancement is the introduction of an up-­or-out policy. This is done through new regulations by War Office Council Instruction (WOCI). In 1973, the Tatmadaw regulated WOCI 18/73 which said that the commissioned officer must remain in the service as long as his service is required. [In fact, on this basis, Senior General Than Shwe and Vice Senior General Maung Aye continued their military careers well beyond retirement age.] The WOCI 18/73 could be loosely interpreted and abused so that one can remain in service for an indefinite period. This WOCI 18/73 was revised and modified with another WOCI issued in 2014. According to WOCI 4/2014, C-­in-C (Senior General) and Deputy C-­in-C (Vice Senior General) of Defence Services will remain in post only up to the age of 65; therefore, their service terms are now capped. Later, in February 2016, with WOCI 1/2016, service terms of brigadier general ranks are capped. It was further supplemented by another instruction to cap the service term for the rank of colonel.7 In this way, upward mobilisation is addressed. Fair distribution of senior command positions is another measure to improve institutional cohesiveness and enhance motivation. The Tatmadaw has three main channels of officer recruitment: OTS, Defence Service Academy (DSA), and Officer Training Course (OTC), commonly known as Teza. When Senior General Min Aung Hlaing took over the Tatmadaw in March 2011, out of 14 regional commanders, ten were from DSA and the remaining four from OTS. In January 2020, the composition was made up of seven from DSA, six from OTS and one from OTC. Out of 29 regional commanders newly appointed since March 2011,

34   Maung Aung Myoe

there are 17 from DSA, 11 from OTS and 1 from OTC. The most significant is the appointment of an officer from OTC-­17 to a position of regional commander in May 2017. This really boosts the morale of the officers with this background as it is for the first time in the Tatmadaw history. In addition, several non-­Bamar officers were promoted to higher military positions. Moreover, a new pattern of transfer and promotion is also introduced in order to enhance motivation among officers. Those officers seconded to ministerial and legislative positions are now transferred back to active command positions and promotion [which is rarely the case in the last three decades].8 To be a better disciplined force and to improve the public image, the Tatmadaw leadership enforced stricter disciplinary actions. In September 2016, seven soldiers, including a brigadier general, were imprisoned for unlawful killing of civilians in Mong Yaw village in Shan State (Frontier 2016). Officers who were subject to recent disciplinary action included a lieutenant general, a major general and three brigadier generals in connection with military operations in Rakhine State. Disciplinary action against senior officers at this level was very rare in the past. The Tatmadaw leadership takes unusual steps in disciplinary measures. In the past, regional commanders were rarely subjected to disciplinary actions and, in most cases, they were given ministerial positions unless they were politically problematic.9 However, between 2011 and 2018, three chiefs of bureaus and four regional commanders were dismissed while three other regional commanders were transferred to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs as ambassadors.10 Several brigadier generals and colonels were also dismissed with prison terms for breaking rules and regulations. In recent years, the Tatmadaw has tried to improve its public image. One major issue at hand is land confiscation. During the SLORC/SPDC period, due mainly to the expansion of military units, the Tatmadaw claimed millions of acres of land for [legitimate] military use. In addition, many local units grabbed land for regimental welfare. According to information from the Ministry of Defence, 461,323.75 acres of land have been grabbed by local military units beyond their parameters. In other words, these lands are not for military purposes but to do with other activities, such as income generation. Out of the 699 cases with 473,979.739 acres reported to the government, 565 cases were related to the Tatmadaw with a total area of 321,435.280 acres (Kyemon 6 February 2014c: 1; Kyemon 3 July 2014b: 7), representing 80.83 per cent of cases and 67.82 per cent of the land area. When the Tatmadaw returned land to the original owners in the first round in November 2013, out of the total of 54,255.003 acres, only 24,854.910 acres were related to the cases under investigation and the remaining 29,400.093 acres were voluntarily returned. The second time of returning land was in February 2014 and the total area was 154,892.102 acres (Kyemon 6 February 2014c: 4). By 15 December 2017, the Tatmadaw had announced that it had returned a total of 258,013.559 acres (Myanma Alin 17 December 2017: 8). Many more complaints have been filed and the investigation is an ongoing process; the Tatmadaw still needs to return more land to previous owners or to the state. The issue is not yet settled and more and more cases are filed.

Military institution and politics   35

Another issue is about forced labour and child soldiers. With an improvement in logistics, better troop discipline and a general decline in fighting – particularly smaller areas of battlefield – there is significant reduction in reported human rights abuse. Moreover, the Tatmadaw has paid closer attention to the issue of child soldiers. It was reported that between September 2012 and December 2014, the Tatmadaw had discharged 594 child soldiers in nine batches and taken action against 327 soldiers, including 50 officers, for forced recruitment of child soldiers (Kyemon 24 January 2015: 3). In fact the Tatmadaw has improved its cooperation with international and non-­governmental organisations (NGOs) in the area of protecting human rights. There has been little report about forced porterage or human rights abuse at the frontline in recent months, if not years, since 2011. While details are not known, it seems that the Tatmadaw leadership has taken measures to improve relations between the military and the general public and has tried to address the legacies of past abuses. More avenues are now available for the general public to report the human rights abuse by Tatmadaw members. However, there are some criticisms of Tatmadaw’s military operations in the counter-­insurgency. Since the collapse of the ceasefire agreements, fighting resumed in Kachin and Shan states. The story is different in the case of security operations in Rakhine state in dealing with terrorist attacks. While the so-­called international community holds critical views and condemnation of the Tatmadaw for its conduct, there is growing local support among the Myanmar public. In essence, the Tatmadaw is trying its best to improve its relations with the general public. The Tatmadaw’s public relations activities in disaster relief operations, mobile medical teams and media friendly communications could be considered as playing a national political role while at the same time improving soldier-­society relations.

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: managing civil-­military relations Following the landslide victory in the 2015 general elections, the NLD came to power in March 2016. The NLD administration, led by de facto leader Aung San Suu Kyi as State Counsellor, while working on the declared policy of national reconciliation has increasingly challenged the military dominance in politics. For the Tatmadaw, the most serious issue in this period is the management of civil-­ military relations, defending its political role and maintaining policy initiatives. One of the key issues that the NLD government promised to review and address is civil-­military relations. The pattern of civil-­military relations outlined in the 2008 constitution accords the military considerable privileges or prerogatives as well as leverage over civilians. There is also almost no meaningful civilian oversight of the military or national security issues more broadly. While civil-­military relations have been stable, they have not been without occasional tensions (Maung Aung Myoe 2017). The 2008 constitution sets the parameter and pattern of civil-­military relations and is essentially partnership and integration between civil and military sides, to safeguard the military corporate interests and to prevent civilian meddling in

36   Maung Aung Myoe

military affairs (Maung Aung Myoe 2018). One of the basic principles of the constitution is for the ‘Defence Services to be able to participate in the National political leadership role of the State’. In addition, the Tatmadaw is entrusted with the task of safeguarding the constitution. The C-­in-C of Defence Services even has the constitutional right to take over state power if he deems it necessary. Article 40(C) of the constitution says:  If there arises a state of emergency that could cause disintegration of the Union, disintegration of national solidarity and loss of sovereign power or attempts therefore by wrongful forcible means such as insurgency or violence, the Commander-­in-Chief of the Defence Services has the right to take over and exercise State sovereign power in accord with the provisions of this Constitution. The constitution essentially gives the Tatmadaw the role of guardian of the state, not simply the guard, and it holds keys to important aspects of government and legislature. Under the 2008 constitution, the C-­in-C is perhaps the single most important power holder in Myanmar politics. It is the C-­in-C who has complete control over the most important aspects of national defence and security. The C-­in-C and not the president is the supreme commander of all armed forces, including the police, paramilitary organisations and even the civil defence forces.11 Since the Tatmadaw ‘has the right to administer for participation of the entire people in Union security and defence’ under the constitution, the C-­in-C is the person who in practical terms can mobilise the entire manpower of the nation for national defence. At the institutional level, the Tatmadaw is an autonomous institution within the state with little or no civilian oversight. According to the constitution, it has the right to administer and adjudicate all affairs of the armed forces independently, and even in matters before military tribunals, the decision of the C-­in-C is final and conclusive. Civilian or non-­military apparatuses of the state are not in a position to comment on the Tatmadaw’s command structure, its financial allocation and procurements; nor are they at liberty to scrutinise military businesses. Also in the area of national defence policymaking and implementation, the Tatmadaw enjoys the exclusive right to set its own agenda. Furthermore, the government is not permitted to interfere in the appointment and promotion of military personnel. In both houses of the Pyidaungsu Hluttaw (Union Assembly), the Tatmadaw occupies 25 per cent of the seats; 110 and 56 for Pyithu Hluttaw (House of Representatives – lower house); and Amyotha Hluttaw (House of Nationalities – upper house) respectively. Therefore, a total of 166 military officers sit in both houses. Comprising one-­third of the total number of region/state Hluttaw representatives elected under the constitution, they are nominated by the C-­in-C in each and every state and regional legislature. At present, there are also 222 Tatmadaw representatives in 14 states or regions. What is important is that the Tatmadaw representatives hold the veto to any structural change in Myanmar politics as constitutional

Military institution and politics   37

amendments can be carried out only with ‘the prior approval of more than 75 per cent of all the representatives of the Pyidaungsu Hluttaw’. The Tatmadaw also exercises influence over three ministerial portfolios – defence, home affairs and border area affairs. The president does not have authority to appoint his own choices but needs to obtain a list of suitable Defence Services personnel nominated by the C-­in-C for the above mentioned ministries. While these ministers and their ministries in theory answer to the president, they are supervised by the Tatmadaw leadership. At state and regional levels the Tatmadaw nominates ministers of state for security and border affairs; there are 14 colonels in state/regional governments in this role. The other avenue through which the Tatmadaw can exercise its influence is the National Defence and Security Council (NDSC), where the C-­in-C controls at least 6 out of 11 members and commands a majority. In the event of any major political and security issue, and in any state of emergency, the president needs to consult with and seek approval from the NDSC. Before declaring a state of emergency, if not all members of the NDSC are able to attend the meeting, the president at least needs to consult with the C-­in-C, the deputy C-­in-C and the ministers for defence and home affairs before any announcement can be made. If the state of emergency finally leads to a declaration of military administration, then the C-­in-C will take over the state and exercise executive and judicial power. The NDSC however is the mechanism for civil-­military coordination. While the C-­in-C is the supreme commander of all the armed forces, the president is the head of state and can direct the former through the NDSC; it is the obligation of the Tatmadaw to follow legitimate and justifiable orders. The constitutional arrangement prohibits the president from issuing orders and commanding the troops as (s)he is not in the chain of command. Under the 2008 constitution, the Tatmadaw has so far managed its relations with civilian authorities under two administrations – the USDP administration (2011–15) and NLD administration (2016–). During the USDP administration, while the relations between the Tatmadaw [leadership] and political leaderships holding executive positions were rather smooth and providing full support, its relations with the USDP-­controlled legislative body was somewhat problematic and it encountered three major cases where the civilian legislators and the military clashed (due to factional politics within the party). The situation does not improve under NLD administration and NLD-­controlled legislature. While civil-­military relations have been stable, they have not been without occasional tensions. As far as the Tatmadaw [leadership] is concerned, it appears that the state counsellor position is unconstitutional as was testified by the opposition of the Tatmadaw legislators, yet once the position was approved it was accepted as fact. Within the first year of NLD rule, there were at least five major clashes between NLD legislators and the Tatmadaw representatives (Maung Aung Myoe 2017). This leading national political role is played out by the Tatmadaw through various policy initiatives and public relations exercises. For instance, the Tatmadaw was heavily involved in shaping Myanmar’s foreign policy through defence

38   Maung Aung Myoe

­ iplomacy, cultivating close ties with countries like Russia, China, India, Thailand d and so on. Not only through arms procurement, but also the military leadership’s close relations with decision makers and institutions in these countries has the ­Tatmadaw been placed in a key position in shaping Myanmar’s foreign relations (Maung Aung Myoe 2018). Moreover, in February 2016, the Tatmadaw published its very first defence white paper. The content of this 99-page document provides a general overview of Myanmar’s perception of national, regional and international security challenges, a basic outline of national defence policy, the objectives and structure of the armed forces and the Tatmadaw’s ‘legitimate and firm stance’ on safeguarding the ‘independence, sovereignty and national interests’ of Myanmar. Citing its spirit as ‘guardian of the state’, the Tatmadaw laid out key priorities in its missions. However, what is significant is the timing of the release of the paper. The timing appeared to suggest that amid the country’s unprecedented transition from decades-­long, military-­backed rule to an administration run by the NLD, the Tatmadaw wanted to signal that it remained the institution controlling security policy. At that time, its release could be a signal to the incoming NLD-­led government that the Tatmadaw intended to remain at the heart of the country’s political and security life – and that it was willing and capable of playing a leading role in governing the country. In addition, the paper sent a strong message that it was the Tatmadaw that defined the security of the nation and was responsible for its defence. Another important policy area in which the Tatmadaw is heavily involved is the peace process. Although the process started during the USDP administration, it has become a policy platform where the Tatmadaw has played a key role in shaping the process and setting the agenda. As Maung Aung Myoe (2018) and Maung Maung Soe (2019) have elaborated, there are several key policy positions taken by the Tatmadaw.12 The NLD administration needs cooperation from the Tatmadaw for the peace process to move forward. Although there are differences in opinion and strategy on how to proceed further, the Tatmadaw has generally maintained initiatives.

Conclusion: future challenges Over the last 30 years, the Tatmadaw has significantly grown in size and military capabilities. The command structure has expanded vastly. Military doctrine has been modified to meet emerging security challenges to reflect the perception of shifting threats. It has also placed all necessary measures and taken precautions to prevent factional splits and the break-­up of the institution. Under the banner of building a ‘standard army’, while carefully avoiding the term ‘professional army’, the Tatmadaw has engaged in institutional reform; the political inclination of the Tatmadaw, however, remains relatively unchanged from the early days of its existence. Evidently, not without challenges the Tatmadaw continues to be an influential and powerful political institution in setting political agendas and making key policy decisions. It is always at the forefront of national politics and determines to play a ‘leading national political role’, as enshrined in the basic principles of the

Military institution and politics   39

2008 constitution. In fact, from its inception, as far as the Tatmadaw is concerned it has never meaningfully been in barracks. It has been out there to defend the nation from foreign aggression (such as Kuomintang [KMT]) and to protect the state from destructive elements. Wai Lwin Maung (2018: 130–2) and Aye Myint Kyu (2019: 253–4), retired senior commanders, have argued that the Tatmadaw is necessitated to go beyond the barracks. The 2008 constitution, drafted primarily by the military is essentially designed to provide a limited democratic space for a ruling partner for the Tatmadaw with the latter remaining very much in control. It is not yet prepared to tolerate any structural changes that would undermine its national political role, the basic principles it has laid down for national unity, or its institutional autonomy. The Tatmadaw has publicly announced its position on the constitutional amendment and repeatedly stated that it will not tolerate any change in the ‘essence of the constitution’. The pattern of civil-­military relations outlined in the 2008 constitution provides the military considerable leverage over civilians although it is no longer directly involved in the day-­to-day running of the state. There is little indication that the present civil-­military relations are anywhere close to what is known as democratic objective civilian control with parliamentary oversight over the Tatmadaw. In spite of this lack of major progress in civil-­military relations, it is safe to argue that the Tatmadaw’s leading national political role has subtly shifted from direct participation in state administration to that of consultation in the policy process, from dominance to influence. The classic model of ‘objective civilian control’ of a professional military insulated from politics has never been realistic for the Tatmadaw which from its very origins has had a proud tradition of being a national political force, and which has been socialised through indoctrination. Moreover, in the view of the Tatmadaw, it is also problematic in the current political and security setting of the country as instability and armed conflicts are prevalent. Yet there is room for cooperation and for making the current pattern of civil-­military relations work for mutual benefit. The military’s position on civil-­military relations reflects an attitude of ‘integration and partnership’, obviously not ‘separation and subordination’. The NDSC is the key mechanism for civil-­military coordination. With proper use of the constitutional provisions, the government can exercise its authority over the military. While the president (head of state) is not the supreme commander and cannot directly order or command the troops, as the chain of command does not allow him/her to do so, (s)he can still direct the military through the NDSC and it is in the mind of the military that it has an obligation to follow through with the rightful and just orders. With the political transition in March 2011 from direct military rule to an elected constitutional government in Myanmar, while maintaining its constitutionally guaranteed ‘leading political role’, the Tatmadaw has withdrawn from its day-­ to-day running of the state and begun to pay more attention to enhancing its institutional capacity and improving its public image. Within its primary role of ‘safeguarding the constitution’, is not without its imperfections, the Tatmadaw has taken a number of steps to transform itself into what the C-­in-C called a ‘standard

40   Maung Aung Myoe

army’. While what is meant by standard army is not clear, it seems to suggest that it is in the process of making the Tatmadaw a military force capable of fighting a conventional regular war. However, what is clear is that building a ‘standard army’ is by no means a ‘professional army’ in the western sense of civil-­military relations. Nevertheless the Tatmadaw is now in the process of redefining and refining its political role in the changing political context. For the last 20 or more years, it has exercised all three branches of power (executive, legislative and judicial) single-­ handedly. The 2008 constitution, where the Tatmadaw laid out the rules of the [new] game, allows new players into the [still limited] political space. Without doubt, the Tatmadaw is an institution of power, yet what is important here is how it actually exercises the power of the institution. While critics will say that the Tatmadaw is now an institution of ‘power without glory’ (Selth 2002), it is noteworthy that it has come all the way from being an institution of ‘glory without power’, and it is quite unreasonable to expect the present day Tatmadaw to go back to that status; therefore, what we can reasonably expect for a foreseeable future is that the Tatmadaw is an institution of ‘power with glory’ if it properly exercises its institutional power, more in the form of influence than in authority.

Notes   1 For the Aung San/Ne Win generation, the political dynamics and trend at the time of their career formation and advance was anti-­colonial struggle [as well as the global Marxist movement]. For the Saw Maung/Than Shwe generation, it was the anti-­communist struggle [as well as global Cold War competition]. For the Min Aung Hlaing/Soe Win generation, careers were partially defined by an anti-­intervention struggle [as well as global norm transformations]. The Aung San/Ne Win generation also includes San Yu, Tin Oo and Kyaw Htin who joined the Tatmadaw during the BIA/BDA days and later served as chiefs-­of-staff.   2 The command structure was also expanded accordingly. Many new positions were added at the high command or Office of the Commander-­in-Chief, such as Joint Chief-­ofStaff, Chief of Air Defence and Chief of Defence Industries. From two Bureaus of Special Operations (BSO) in 1988, it now has six BSOs to oversee and coordinate military operations in different regions. From merely one general, three lieutenant generals and four major generals in 1988, the high command has proportionately grown into one senior general, one vice-­senior general, three generals – including one admiral for the navy and one general for the air force, and sixteen lieutenant generals.   3 For the army, while most of the small arms and motors are locally produced, air defence missile systems, heavy artilleries, tanks and armoured carriers were imported from China, Russia, South Korea, Brazil and South Africa. While details on the quantity of these military hardwares are unknown, one can generally estimate the number of pieces required to arm ten artillery divisions, ten armour divisions, and six air defence divisions.   4 In 2009 and 2010, the Myanmar Air Force (MAF ) bought 50 units of K-­8 trainer aircraft from China to be assembled in Myanmar, possibly to replace its ageing PT-­6 fleet. At about the same time, the MAF also signed a contract to acquire 20 units of MiG-­29 multi-­role fighters with a total price tag of US$570 million. The year 2015 was a watershed year for the MAF as it decided to source major procurement of aircraft. In June 2015, the MAF reportedly bought 12 units of Yakovlev Yak-­130 combat training aircraft from Russia, with a price tag of US$15 million per unit, to be delivered within the

Military institution and politics   41

next three years. [Six aircrafts were already commissioned for December 2017.] At about the same time, the Tatmadaw also signed a contract to buy 16 units of JF-­17 fighter aircrafts from Pakistan with a price tag of US$16 million for each. [None of these aircrafts is yet to be commissioned before the end of 2017.] In the same year, it was reported that German aircraft manufacturer GROB has delivered half of the 20 new G120TP turboprop trainers ordered by the Myanmar air force. It appeared that all 20 aircraft were already commissioned. Moreover, in the same year, the MAF also bought ten units of MiL Mi-­24P/35P from Russia. In January 2018, during the visit of the Russian defence minister, Russia agreed to supply six Su-­30 fighter jets in a deal worth at least US$204 million (about K274.7 trillion). In addition, the list of aircraft commissioned in this decade included four ATR42/72 transport aircrafts, six Y-­8/12 transport aircrafts, seven Beech 1900D light transport aircrafts, three Bell-­206 helicopters, two Fokker transport aircrafts and eight EUROCOPTER helicopters.   5 There are five frigates, one corvette (MNS Tabinshwehti – 773), one offshore patrol vessel (MNS Innlay – 54), ten fast attack crafts (47 m-­Missile), one fast attack craft (49 m-­Missile), four landing craft tanks (56 m), sixteen landing craft mechanized (29 m), and one torpedo boat (T201) among others. Except for two frigates (F-­21 and F-­23 are from China – Jianghu-­II class), all of them were locally built. The MN also ordered six units of Super Dvora Mk-­III patrol boats from Israel in 2015. Two were already commissioned by 24 December 2016. The MN also procured a floating dry dock (FD-­01 Saya Shan) for shipbuilding from China.   6 The Tatmadaw conducted combined arms exercises (CAE) with infantry, artillery, tank and air force; and a joint services exercise (JSE) with three services: army, navy and air force. It carried out CAE (Aung Zeya) in March 2012, CAE (Anawrahta) in February 2014, CAE (Bayint Baung) in September 2016, and JSE (Sin Phyu Shin) in February 2018.The navy has held annual combined fleet exercises (sea shield) in March every year since 2014. In 2018, it was integrated with JSE (Sin Phyu Shin).   7 A colonel will serve for a total of eight years in the rank, a brigadier general for seven years, a major general for six years, a lieutenant general for five years, and a general for four years with a possibility of extension for two more years. This rule does not apply to professional services like doctors and engineers. Those major generals as regional commander, commandant of the National Defence College, or the Command and General Staff College, or the Defence Services Academy, or the Defence Services Science and Technology Research Institute will honorably retire as lieutenant generals if they are not promoted before the service term ends.   8 Union Deputy Minister for Home Affairs, Major General Aung Soe was promoted to the rank of lieutenant general and appointed, first, as Inspector General and, later, as a Chief of Bureau of Special Operation. Minister for Security Affairs in Shan State government, Colonel Naing Win Aung was promoted to Brigadier General and appointed as Commander of LID-­33. Other [unusual] promotions and transfers included promotion of Major General Min Naing, Vice Quartermaster General, to the rank of Lieutenant General and appointment as Controller General; and transfer of Major General Myo Moe Aung, Commandant of National Defence College (NDC), as commander of South East Command. Another rare promotion and transfer was the promotion and appointment of Commodore Myint Nwe as Rear Admiral and Commandant of the NDC.   9 In March 2002, C-­in-C (Air Force) Major General Myint Swe and two Regional Commanders Major General Chit Than and Major General Aye Kyawe were dismissed due to some political issues related to former General Ne Win. On medical grounds, Major General Nyan Lin and Major General Myint Aung resigned their commissions in 1990 and 2000 respectively. 10 Three Chiefs of Bureaus are MG Tin Ngwe, MG Kyaw Phyo, LG Aung Kyaw Zaw; four Regional Commanders are MG Than Tun, MG Maung Maung Soe, MG Nyi Nyi Swe and MG Lin Aung. Three Regional Commanders transferred to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MOFA) are MG Tun Nay Lin, MG Ko Ko Naing and MG Soe Lwin.

42   Maung Aung Myoe

11 While the police force is nominally under the command of the C-­in-C of defence ­services, its operations are relatively free from the military command except in the cases of counter-­terrorism operations. Although the nomination for minister and deputy minister for home affairs comes from the C-­in-C, the appointment is legally made by the president as head of state. While the minister will coordinate and consult with the military high command on a regular basis, such as attending briefing sessions, they answer directly to the president. 12 First, the peace process should be within the framework of the 2008 constitution. Second, the Tatmadaw announced six principles for the peace process. They are: (a) genuine desire to make a lasting peace; (b) keeping promises and commitment to peace agreements; (c) refraining from taking unfair advantage from the peace agreement; (d) avoiding placing a heavy burden on local people; (e) strict adherence to existing laws; (f ) cooperation in democratic reform processes based on the 2008 state constitution, our three main national causes, and the essence of democracy. Third, it argued that the present Tatmadaw is the ‘Union Armed Forces’ (Pyidaungsu Tatmadaw) and there is no need for so-­called ‘federal union armed forces’. Finally, it stated that the DDR (disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration) process should come first and SSR (security sector reform) could follow later. Moreover, the Tatmadaw has basically set the timeline for the peace process to be completed by 2020 although it does not say what would be the consequences of failure to meet the deadline.

References Aye Myint Kyu, B 2018. Forget me not [in Myanmar language], Yangon: Today Book House. Bunte, M 2017. ‘The NLD-­military coalition in Myanmar: military guardianship and its economic foundations’. In P Chamber and N Waitoolkiat (eds) Khaki Capital: The Political Economy of the Military in Southeast Asia. Copenhagen: NIAS Press, 93–129. Frontier 2016. ‘Tatmadaw soldiers jailed for killing Mong Yaw villagers’, 16 September 2016. Available from: https://frontiermyanmar.net/en/tatmadaw-­soldiers-jailed-­for-killing-­ mong-yaw-­villagers, accessed 30 November 2018. Kyemon Newspaper 2014a. ‘Ceremony for granting commissioned officer held’, 29 August, p. 5. Kyemon Newspaper 2014b. ‘Increasing income for local residents through mixed plantation of crops and forest’, 3 July, pp. 1–7. Kyemon Newspaper 2014c. ‘Return of confiscated land by the Tatmadaw for the second time’, 6 February, pp. 1–4. Kyemon Newspaper 2015. ‘Ceremony to transfer the custody of child soldiers back to their parents’, 24 January, p. 3. McCarthy, G 2019. Military Capitalism in Myanmar: Examining the Origins, Continuities and Evolution of ‘Khaki Capital’. Singapore: ISEAS–Yusof Ishak Institute. Maung Aung Myoe 2009. Building the Tatmadaw: Myanmar Armed Forces since 1948. Singapore: ISEAS Press. Maung Aung Myoe 2014. ‘The soldier and the state: the Tatmadaw and political liberalization since 2011’. South East Asia Research 22(2): 233–49. Maung Aung Myoe 2017. ‘Emerging pattern of civil-­military relations in Myanmar’. In D Singh and M Cook (eds) Southeast Asian Affairs 2017. Singapore: ISEAS–Yusof Ishak Institute, pp. 259–73. Maung Aung Myoe 2018. ‘Partnership in politics: the Tatmadaw and the NLD in Myanmar since 2016’. In Justine Chambers et al. (eds) Myanmar transformed? People, places and politics, Singapore: ISEAS–Yusof Ishak Institute, pp. 201–30.

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Maung Maung Soe 2019. Peace and 2020 [in Myanmar language]. Yangon: Shwe-­Nadi Sarpay. Min Maung Maung 1995. The Tatmadaw and Leading National Political Role [in Myanmar language]. Yangon: News and Periodical Enterprise. Mya Win 1992. Tatmadaw’s Traditional Role in National Politics. Yangon: News and Periodical Enterprises. Myanma Alin Newspaper 2017. ‘Press release regarding the status of return of the land confiscated by the Ministry of Defence to the state’, 17 December, p. 8. Myawady Newspaper 2018a. ‘For war veterans to always be imbued with nationalism and patriotism despite their old age with passage of time’, 1 November, pp. 18–19. Myawady Newspaper 2018b. ‘Greetings of Commander-­in-Chief of Defence Services Senior General Min Aung Hlaing at the third meeting of the Union Peace Conference – 21st Century Panglong’, 12 July, pp. 19–21. Myawady Newspaper 2019. ‘Passing-­out parade of the 6th intake of graduate female cadet course held’, 24 December, p. 18. Selth, A 2002. Burma’s Armed Forces: Power without Glory. Norwalk, CT: EastBridge. Wai Lwin Maung 2018. Officer but Not a Soldier; Soldier but Not an Officer [in Myanmar ­language]. Yangon: Myo-­Sat-Thit Sarpay.

4 LAW, LAWYERS AND LEGAL INSTITUTIONS Mish Khan and Nick Cheesman

Introduction Late one afternoon in December 2017, Myanmar police officers arrested reporters Wa Lone and Kyaw Soe Oo as they were leaving an open-­air beer garden, moments after another police officer had handed them confidential documents concealed inside a newspaper. The documents concerned a military inquiry into soldiers’ killing of ten villagers in Inn Din, Rakhine State; a crime for which the army later announced that it had convicted and punished seven of its personnel (Grafilo 2018). Police charged the two journalists with possessing state secrets. On his way out of one court hearing Wa Lone shouted,  The culprits who committed the massacre were sentenced to 10 years in prison. However, the ones who uncovered it – us – are accused under a law that can get us imprisoned for 14 years. So, I’d like to ask the government … Where is the truth and justice? Where is democracy and freedom? (Reuters 2018) Eight months after the trial began, despite contradictory police accounts of how they uncovered the documents, the presiding judge sentenced the reporters to seven years in prison, prompting protests in Yangon (Lasseter 2018). A judge of the Yangon Region High Court rejected the reporters’ appeal, describing seven years as ‘suitable punishment’ for the offence committed (Thu Thu Aung and McPherson 2019). With Myanmar’s political transition since 2011, politically active and socially engaged lawyers and their allies – people like the two journalists, who were later released from jail under a presidential pardon – have been hoping to revitalise law so as to work towards those elusive goals of truth and justice for which Wa Lone

Law, lawyers and legal institutions   45

raised his voice outside of court. Although their voices are now heard and they are much better placed to contribute towards these goals than prior to 2011, these lawyers, journalists and activists face big obstacles to make law work with and not against movements for progressive social and political change. Even though the language of truth and justice echoes from the walls of Myanmar’s law chambers and courts, and the language of democracy and freedom is heard in the offices of political parties and rule-­of-law development organisations, the diminution of law, precariousness of lawyering, and barriers to change erected through and maintained by legal institutions make progress slow and gains limited. Why have law, lawyers and legal institutions in Myanmar not satisfied demands to deliver justice and protect basic freedoms, despite opportunities presented by the country’s political metamorphosis? In this chapter we describe the constraints on legal change and lawyering in Myanmar and show how they are not epiphenomenal. Rather, they are the consequences of decades of military dictatorship during which law, lawyers and legal institutions came to adopt roles that for the most part had the effect of denying rather than inviting possibilities for change of the sort to which people in Myanmar now openly aspire. In short, demands for justice and truth like Wa Lone’s are made against conditions that delimit structurally, if not prohibit outright possibilities for their realisation. The chapter is organised in three parts. The first concerns the status of law, lawyers and legal institutions under military rule, up to 2011. The second and third consider their status in the shadows of military rule since 2011, under the Thein Sein and Aung San Suu Kyi-­led governments respectively.

Myanmar under military rule: declining fortunes of law and lawyers Law, lawyers and legal institutions in Myanmar today have emerged not only from decades of military dictatorship but also out of earlier periods of undemocratic government. They still owe a great deal of their design and work to the period of British colonial rule that in practice extended in lower Myanmar, then Burma, from the early and mid-­1800s and in upper Burma from the 1890s to the early 1940s. During this period, the British brought and imposed not the common law of the metropole but rather Anglo-­Indian codified law and arrangements for political and legal order in a colony from across the Bay of Bengal into Burma (Cheesman 205: 45–7). The core criminal and civil codes in Myanmar, to which police, courts and litigants have daily recourse, remain substantively as they were a century ago (Cheesman 2015: 39). After the 1962 coup led by General Ne Win, successive military or military-­established governments found in the codified law of their colonial predecessors resources that were well suited to post-­colonial dictatorship. These included not only special state security laws like the Official Secrets Act, 1923, which the police used against the Reuters journalists, and the Unlawful Associations Act, 1908 but also the core criminal codes, which the colonial state had

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drafted and revised with a view to the maintenance of public order, or ‘law and order’. At the same time, from the mid-­1960s a nominally revolutionary junta and successor one-­party state coated colonial law with a veneer of socialist doctrine and statute. While retaining the form of colonial law they stripped it of its few virtues, namely, the rudimentary procedural protections offered for the individual subject, including provisions to protect people from arbitrary deprivation of liberty – such as the requirement of a prima facie case prior to trial, for the burden of proof to be placed on the prosecution, and that an accused person enjoy the benefit of the doubt (Cheesman 2015: 85). With the wholesale return of the military in 1988 following the collapse of the one-­party state under the weight of nationwide protests, the language of law and order as state security went to a whole new level. Without pretence of any sophisticated ideological project, the new military council appropriated for itself ‘all the duties and power of the state with few responsibilities and no notion of accountability and transparency’ (Crouch 2014a: 44). The junta in two iterations (1988 to 1997; 1997 to 2011) further diminished the status of law, rendering the very idea of general rules irrelevant, since it worked through administrative fiats and regulations. In the years immediately following the 1988 uprising, these enabled the military to intervene directly in all affairs of state, including matters of law large and small. By the mid-­1990s it fell back upon the tried-­and-tested colonial-­era statutes for the maintenance of law and order through compliant police, prosecutors and courts. If the story of codified law in Myanmar over successive periods has been one of unusual continuity amid dramatically rising and falling political and social fortunes, then the parts of lawyers and legal institutions have tended to rise and fall in tandem. Immediately following the 1962 coup, the military merged the country’s two superior courts into a single apex court, signaling its intentions to intervene in judicial arrangements at the highest level. It subsequently established special tribunals that had soldiers among their members, to try vaguely defined categories of offences (Cheesman 2011). These tribunals were not bound by the procedures of ordinary courts: they could, for example, try people in absentia and change charges midway through trial. An appeal court above these tribunals gradually surpassed the civilian apex court in its authority, and eroded judicial independence. In 1972 the junta launched a project to replace the professional judiciary with a lay judiciary that was to be fully integrated with the new one-­party state structure it inaugurated in 1974 (Cheesman 2015: 90–1). Since lay judges were party appointees, there was no longer any effective separation of party policy from legal adjudication. The new nominally ‘people’s’ courts did not adhere to rules of evidence and procedure, and bribery was widespread (Taylor 2009: 339–42). Despite the government raising expectations that these courts would be more efficient in delivering outcomes, and in line with the objectives for a socialist economy, they continued to be burdened with a high workload and appeal rate. The claims of the one-­party state to be delivering justice that was both fast and fair proved illusory. Law – or rather, legal institutions – became ‘something to avoid’ (Prasse-­Freeman 2014: 92); not something with which either truth or justice was associated.

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The declining fortunes of legal institutions in this period occurred in parallel with the evisceration of the legal profession. Although lawyers retained a modicum of autonomy that the judiciary lost, their standing declined with the plummeting status of law (Cheesman and Kyaw Min San 2014: 711–13). Lawyering ceased to be an attractive option. People took to law as a hobby or part-­time practice for additional income, rather than as a serious or viable career path. University education generally suffered under military rule, as the army repeatedly targeted and shut down campuses, which were sites of anti-­military protest in 1962, 1974 and 1988 especially. Legal education fared particularly badly, with bright students in the socialist period encouraged to take up medicine, science or engineering. For a time, no law certificate or diploma programme was available at all. The government turned increasingly to distance education programmes as one solution to its problem of student activism. If students were off campuses, they could not gather to cause political unrest. In 1975, when the universities offered law as a correspondence course for the very first time, they admitted 6,500 new students to study: 20 times the usual intake of the previous decade (Myint Zan 2008). Although an increase in numbers of tertiary educated citizens is in general a laudable goal, this bringing of legal training to the masses in Burma was not accompanied by further significant investment in universities, and could happen only with a corresponding massive decline in quality. Distance education students completed simple assignments, and only met their professors once or twice a year for crash courses prior to sitting rote-­learned exams. By the 1990s these courses were churning out a surplus of poorly trained law graduates. The majority never went into practice. Meanwhile, back on campus legal education did not resume until 2003 (Dawkins and Cheesman forthcoming). Yangon University did not readmit on-­campus law students until 2013. Those law graduates who did try to make their way as lawyers did so in highly circumscribed conditions, both under one-­party administration and afterwards. The military government that seized control in 1988 amended the Bar Council Act, 1929 to remove responsibility for oversight of the legal profession from lawyers themselves, and put it in the hands of the Office of the Attorney General and the Supreme Court, both of which were beholden to the army. Some lawyers attempted to circumvent this control by registering alternative associations, but the state denied them permission and left lawyers vulnerable to prosecution for unlawfully associating with one another (ILAC/CEELI 2014: 16–17). Suspension or dismissal of lawyers also became matters for the Supreme Court to decide upon, rather than the Bar. Lawyers were not necessarily informed that they were under investigation and had little or no recourse when struck off (see Cheesman and Kyaw Min San 2014: 716–17). The absence of independent professional bodies to defend lawyers’ interests meant that those who were targeted for political reasons wanted for the support of peers. Back in the courtroom, after 1988 when revitalised military dictatorship restored the professional judiciary out of the ranks of judicial bureaucrats, things went from bad to worse. Courts became enclosed sites for essentially administrative determinations of

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matters brought into them (Cheesman 2015: 119–20). Verdicts were sometimes predetermined and delivered to judges, orally or in writing, to read out. The Supreme Court, as chief administrator of legal affairs on behalf of the army, assessed the quality of its subordinates’ work in terms of how frequently and how harshly they convicted in compliance with state directives. Army officers berated and reprimanded judges collectively and individually for failure to meet efficiency targets, and for alleged wrongdoing in matters large and small. The buying and selling of outcomes in Myanmar’s courts, although historically persistent, flourished in the 1990s and 2000s. Whereas in the 1970s and 1980s parties to cases tended to offer relatively small albeit precious gifts to judges, clerks and other personnel – fancy click-­pens, western medicines, imported whisky, quality cooking oil – in these decades case outcomes turned on increasingly large cash payments. Although the Supreme Court removed judges, bureaucrats and lawyers involved in egregious practices, for the most part it tolerated them provided that they did not upset the semblance of orderliness in court (Cheesman 2015: 168–71). The business of criminal justice went to a whole new level. Rather than being masters of law, lawyers became masters of everything around it (Prasse-­ Freeman 2014: 94): master manipulators and strategists, not in working within law, but in working adjacent to it at the same time as giving the appearance of adherence to it. In sum, while law on paper retained some continuity with earlier periods, military rule evacuated it of its merits and retained of it pretty much everything that worked to repress and dominate subjects. Neither legal institutions nor lawyers had the wherewithal to put up a fight when the army decided to have its way with them. An emasculated legal profession and moribund legal education stunted lawyers’ abilities to effect justice claims. Lawyers in Myanmar went from being important actors in political and economic life prior to dictatorship, to petty administrative and brokerage roles. The courts in which they worked complied with policy imperatives. In exchange court staff had opportunities to make a little extra on the side, latterly a lot extra, for negotiated case outcomes. Such was the state of affairs in 2011 when the army, having engineered the passing in 2008 of a new constitution designed to protect its interests, inaugurated a new semi-­elected legislature, opening the way to the return of politics to Myanmar (Cheesman 2016). With it came the possibility for new ways of thinking, talking and working on, about and with law.

Thein Sein and the USDP: law in the shadows of military rule When the 2008 constitution took effect in January 2011 it formally ended direct military rule and set the terms for a new government headed by the former army general and last prime minister of the outgoing junta, Thein Sein, and the army-­ established Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP). Although the putative transition initially seemed illusory, it proved to be significant. In 2015 the National League for Democracy (NLD) overwhelmingly won elections. Under the

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firm and unassailable leadership of Myanmar’s democracy icon Aung San Suu Kyi, it successfully formed government the next year. Things really were changing. With political change came new ideas about the part that law, lawyers and legal institutions might also play in the new Myanmar. The outgoing military government had already signed off on a swathe of new statutes to prepare for the establishment of new formal institutions under the 2008 constitution. Among them was the Union Judiciary Law, 2010, consistent with the constitution’s Chapter VI, as a replacement for the Judiciary Law, 2000. While the new Union Judiciary Law largely retains the judicial principles, powers and duties of its predecessor, it expands on the qualifications and terms of office of the Chief Justice and judges of the Supreme Court. Under it, the Supreme Court, which sits in the country’s new capital city, Naypidaw, has since 2011 also overseen new categories of high courts in the states and regions, and courts of self-­administered divisions/zones; as well as a pre-­existing hierarchy of district courts, township courts and other special courts such as juvenile, municipal or traffic courts (Crouch 2018a: 278; Union Supreme Court 2016: 9). The court, whose eight-­member bench comprises at least three ex-­military personnel, including the Chief Justice, is also responsible for the appointment of judges at the district and township levels (Union Supreme Court 2018). Groups such as the International Commission of Jurists (ICJ) and International Bar Association have recommended that to ensure an open process, a separate judicial appointments board or judicial services commission be established to manage the appointment and dismissal powers. The Union Judiciary Law, 2010 also outlines the role of the Constitutional Tribunal in resolving constitutional disputes; and the power of the Supreme Court to issue constitutional writs. The Constitutional Tribunal is among the innovations of the 2008 constitution that has attracted special interest both at home and abroad. Civil society organisations have criticised it for its inaccessibility, inactivity and inability to stand up against the legislature. Only a small group of political elites, such as the president, chief minister of a region or state, or a group of legislative representatives numbering 10 per cent of the lower or upper houses have legal standing to approach the tribunal. From the Thein Sein government of 2011 to the early years of the NLD government in 2017, the Constitutional Tribunal had heard and published decisions in only fourteen cases, of which three concerned the same application (Crouch 2018b: 10). Legislators challenged the tribunal’s formal authority to undertake constitutional review of their actions shortly after the tribunal began work, by way of the ‘Union Level Organisations’ case in 2012. In this case, the tribunal determined a number of legislative committees could not propose amendments to legislation because they lacked the constitutional status of union-­level organisation. Soon afterwards, the upper house passed a motion to impeach all nine tribunal members, pressuring them to resign (Nardi 2017: 181). Of the other cases that the tribunal has heard, perhaps the most significant was the ‘citizenship case’ of 2015. Here the tribunal determined that temporary registration cardholders did not have the same rights as citizens under the 1982 Citizenship

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Law. The decision contributed to the legislative reversal of voting rights for over one million people, most of them Muslims who at the time were living in Rakhine State (Nardi 2017: 188; Crouch 2018b: 10, 24–6). The 2008 constitution also gave the Supreme Court constitutional authority to hear writ petitions, including for habeas corpus. Formally, the superior judiciary had had the power to issue writs in the nature of habeas corpus under the Criminal Procedure Code since British colonial times; however, after the 1962 coup the power ceased being used (Cheesman 2010: 96). Though in principle the writ of habeas corpus enables the judiciary to check abuses of liberty by ordering the release of illegally detained persons, since its constitutional return to Myanmar until now, on the surface of it, it has largely failed people subject to illegal arrest or detention (Myint Zan 2017: 33). However, data on the actual number of people petitioning for habeas corpus since 2011 is elusive. In 2016 the ICJ stated that it was aware of only a few applications, due in part to the complicated, time-­consuming and costly process of filing applications with the Supreme Court in Naypidaw (ICJ 2016: 5; Crouch 2014b: 151–2). During the Thein Sein period many international organisations working on legal affairs, as well as international legal firms, came to Myanmar. Some established or helped to establish and build local counterparts. These groups have brought with them narratives about the globalisation of law (see Tungnirun 2018). They have also encouraged a new class of ‘rule-­of-law intermediaries’ (Simion 2018). Many of these intermediaries are Myanmar citizens who have studied abroad and who now mediate ‘lived conceptions of justice’ (Prasse-­Freeman 2014: 89) among people in Myanmar with international ideas and expectations about Myanmar as a country in political transition. Agencies like the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), USAID and the European Union have since 2011 spent hundreds of millions of dollars in Myanmar in the name of the rule of law and ‘judicial reform’ (Harding 2018). USAID alone assigned US$55 million between 2012 and 2016 towards various projects for ‘expanding rule of law and access to justice’ (USAID 2017). Regardless of whether or not these actors achieve their specific objectives, legal institutions and lawyering in Myanmar are by virtue of their presence in very different circumstances from the isolation and parochialism that characterised them and their work just a few years earlier. Many interventions and public debates over law in Myanmar since 2011 have had progressive goals. Many others have not. Some of the debates generated by groups in Myanmar have been belligerently anti- rather than pro-­human rights, contrary to the principles of the rule of law to which governments since 2011 have claimed to subscribe. The passage of four ‘race and religion’ laws in 2015, months prior to the Aung San Suu Kyi electoral victory, is a case in point. The laws, motivated by anti-­Muslim sentiment and brought by Buddhist monks and laypeople affiliated with or members of the so-­called Patriotic Association of Myanmar, or MaBaTha, aim to regulate interfaith marriage, monogamy, population birth control and religious conversion. Although the concerns and sentiments that the laws purport to address are not new – some can be traced, in earlier iterations, to the

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colonial period when large numbers of people migrated to the colony from India (Crouch 2015: 5) – the social and political conditions in which they passed through the legislature have changed dramatically. Buddhist protectionist groups were able to successfully mobilise and apply pressure on the legislature to get them passed at a critical moment in Myanmar’s modern political history, with the 2015 election looming. Their efforts to get the laws passed included sermons to large crowds, signature campaigns that collected millions of signatures, and communication in print and social media to insist that the threat of Islamisation necessitated special legal protections of Buddhist women especially (Chit Win and Kean 2017: 428; Frydenlund 2017: 66–7). Despite the influx of international organisations offering to support legal reform and the seeming willingness of the Thein Sein government to act on these offers, the 2011–15 period saw very little by way of amendment or annulment of laws that military government either passed or used so as to crush dissent, stifle freedom of expression, and antagonise vulnerable groups, such as sexual minorities (see Chua and Gilbert 2015). Section 33(a) of the Electronic Transactions Law, 2004, for instance, criminalises any act involving the internet, fax or other electronic communications technology ‘detrimental to the security of the state or prevalence of law and order or community peace and tranquillity or national solidarity or national economy or national culture’. The Thein Sein government reduced the penalties under the law in 2014 – it now carries a maximum seven-­year jail term rather than fifteen – but made no other amendments to it. In the Thein Sein period the Penal Code, 1860, and its appendages continued to be, as its British designers originally intended it, the instrument of choice for police, prosecutors and administrators seeking to bring charges against alleged troublemakers of all shapes and sizes. The code itemises numerous offences against the state and public order, including sedition, treason, upsetting religious sensibilities, interfering with the work of a public servant, and insulting a judge during a hearing – a precursor to the law on contempt that continues to be used against lawyers who too vigorously defend their clients. Its section 505(b) carries a two­year jail term for loosely characterised threats to public tranquility. Before 2011 police routinely used this section in political cases, often in tandem with other sections under the code. After 2011 their frequent resort to the section has continued, apparently with increasing rather than decreasing intensity under the NLD government since 2015. In these respects, generally speaking there is little to differentiate the USDP and NLD periods in matters of law and legal institutions. Revocation of a couple of notorious state security laws in 2016 notwithstanding – one the frequently used Emergency Regulations Act, 1950; the other, the infrequently used but evocatively named Law for the Protection of the State against the Dangers of Destructive Elements, 1975 – the NLD has not shown significant evidence of intent to amend regressive laws in a systematic or thoroughgoing manner, despite its having among its numbers legislators who spent years fighting cases brought against clients under these same laws. So do law, legal institutions and lawyers under Aung San Suu Kyi’s

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government remain in the shadows of military dictatorship? With this question we turn to the next section, and the period after 2015.

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: still in the shadows? Slow progress in some areas notwithstanding, since 2015 legal processes in Myanmar have obtained a public presence and have acted on the public imagination in ways that they have not for over half a century. Law is back in the spotlight. Today it is a dramaturgical space where conflicts over legal rights are visible and contestable (Prasse-­Freeman 2020). Myanmar’s press now frequently and energetically reports on legal topics ranging from freedom of expression, land ownership, the rights of women and children, to religious nationalism. People take to the streets in response to proposed new laws and changes to laws, such as the protests in 2018 in response to amendments to the 2011 Peaceful Assembly and Peaceful Procession Law, which increased the risks of repercussions for demonstrating (Thu Thu Aung 2018). Newly established organisations, some born of the current moment in Myanmar, others coming from abroad, document and report on trial procedures and raise questions about access to justice. So too do Myanmar’s millions of new Facebook users, who closely follow, scrutinise and comment on reports of high-­profile trials, such as the 2018 case against the two Reuters journalists, and the 2019 conviction of a number of former army officers for their alleged plot to kill prominent Myanmar lawyer U Ko Ni, whom an assassin shot dead at the international airport in January 2017 (Ei Ei Toe Lwin and Shoon Naing 2017; Saw Nang and Ramzy 2019). Land disputes are an example of one area of media reportage in which law has come firmly back into view. Under successive military dictatorships, the military – and from the 1990s, crony companies – grabbed vast areas of land for strategic and commercial use. The effects of a series of laws passed under the Thein Sein administration combined not to address the problem but ‘to formalise the pattern of land grabbing that had developed under the previous government and to encourage land speculation’ (McCarthy 2018: 238). Today people are seeking the return of lands that historically they occupied and cultivated, as well as trying to prevent the loss of lands that they use presently. In doing so, they employ legal strategies and invoke law in attempts to seek relief. While it is still relatively uncommon for farmers to pursue litigation due to high costs and the risks associated with being made the targets of legal action by their opponents, as well as lack of legal information, some have sought compensation for land lost to government projects, citing terms of the constitution and the Farmland Law, 2012 (SiuSiue Mark 2016: 454). Farmers use their numbers, the media and online campaigns to spread the word about their causes and to try to sway judges’ opinions. Under the NLD government, the war of words over law in the media has led to the return of judicial threats to journalists and others who speak out. Although the legislature replaced the antiquated Contempt of Courts Act, 1926 with a new law on contempt in 2013, activists and lawyers worry that the definition of contempt

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under the 2013 law is too broad and liable to abuse, particularly in response to renewed media criticism of the courts. Their concerns relate in part to the conviction in 2015 of 14 staff members of the Eleven Media enterprise, who faced charges of contempt after reporting on the proceedings of a defamation case against their colleagues (Crouch 2018b: 279). Human rights and advocacy groups in Myanmar and abroad also have called for the repeal of section 66(d) of the Telecommunications Law, 2013 that carries a penalty of up to three years jail for ‘extorting, coercing, restraining wrongfully, defaming, disturbing, causing undue influence or threatening any person using a telecommunications network’. Though the NLD government amended the law in 2017, state officials have continued to use it to bring cases against people who have posted comments online critical of the administration and armed forces (FEM 2017; Hein Ko Soe and Kean 2017). At the same time that MaBaTha monks and their allies have lobbied vigorously for the passing of laws to enable ‘Buddhist interest litigation’ (Schonthal 2016), they have mobilised against proposals to amend the xenophobic Citizenship Law, 1982. They have called too for strict enforcement of the law against the interests of Muslims, and in particular, those identifying or identified as Rohingya, who have suffered well-­documented policies and practices to deny them systematically the citizenship and identity documentation that they desire and to which, for the greater part, they probably should be entitled (Nyi Nyi Kyaw 2017). Some lawyers who are of shared sentiments have joined in the defence of this law and the promotion of the four new ones, while the overwhelming majority of lawyers have failed, whether for reasons of fear or apathy, to critique the law and speak or act professionally in defence of the country’s embattled Muslim population. The judiciary for its part now has a strategic plan and code of ethics that also ostensibly respond to changed social and political conditions. The plan, which ran from 2015 to 2017 and then entered a second period dated from 2018 to 2022, outlines strategic action areas such as expanding public access to court. Its initiatives include providing information on courts in some of the many languages other than Burmese that are used daily in Myanmar, and conducting court user satisfaction surveys. While such initiatives are commendable, on one reading they have more to do with public relations and the improvement of communication skills than with the profound institutional change needed in Myanmar’s courts (Harding 2018: 434–5). Similarly, the Judicial Code of Ethics, to which international groups such as the ICJ and the UNDP contributed, contains numerous guidelines on how judges can be free from extraneous influence, or not receive bribes (Union Supreme Court 2017). Moralising anti-­corruption language has been the stuff of every government in Myanmar and before it Burma for over a hundred years (Cheesman 2015: 163–8). But stronger anti-­corruption sentiment and new arrangements seem to be having some effect under the NLD government. Myanmar’s anti-­corruption commission obtained more autonomy after the legislature in May 2018 passed amendments to the Anti-­Corruption Law, 2013. These have allowed the commission – whose members include legal advocates, retired police officers, and retired members from

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various ministries – to initiate investigations without the need for formal complaint or evidence (San Yamin Aung 2018). In September 2018 the commission showed its teeth in what one journalist called ‘the most high profile anti-­corruption case to go to trial since the transition to multi-­party democracy’ (Ye Mon 2018), by filing a lawsuit against the former Yangon Region attorney general, a judge of the Yangon Eastern District Court, three prosecutors and a police officer for taking bribes from the father of a suspect in a murder case. The Yangon Region High Court also annulled the decision to drop the case and ordered that it go to trial. If the legal profession has not recovered from its decline from ‘high status to an amateurish pursuit’ (Dawkins and Cheesman forthcoming), nevertheless lawyers in Myanmar since 2015 do seem to have shared a stronger collective identity than before. This sense of professional identity has emerged despite a lack of autonomous professional bodies, atrophied legal education and institutional constraints. The lack of an autonomous bar notwithstanding, socially and politically engaged lawyers gather for advocacy with their allies in chambers, political training centres, private homes and teashops. They devote their time to discussing high-­profile court cases in the media, and providing commentary on legal and political issues. In doing so they imagine the possibility for the re-­emergence of lawyers as key figures in Myanmar’s political and economic life, as allies to those seeking justice and truth – whether imprisoned reporters or protesting farmers. For their part, ‘everyday’ lawyers, while lacking the same sense of commitment to political and social causes, or the same enthusiasm for their vocation, also work for the dignity of their clients and in so doing contribute to a culture of resistance to political domination (Batesmith and Stevens 2018). Other than these lawyers and their clients, people continue to have a hard time to get into many of Myanmar’s courtrooms, raising doubts about whether or not they have, after years of doing things under cover of darkness, opened themselves up to public scrutiny. In 2017, a London-­based legal support group reported on obstacles its Yangon staff encountered on trying to gain entry in six out of thirty-­six courthouse visits. The group found that its staff often needed to identify themselves or demonstrate a personal connection to a trial – such as that the accused was a relative – to enter. It also noted numerous breaches of fair trial rights, such as the absence of legal representation for the accused and even the absence of judges for parts of trial (Justice Base 2017a, 2017b). Last, in the realm of the legal profession, Myanmar’s lawyers have struggled to change the Bar Council Act since the amendment of 1989. Members of the High Court Lawyers Association, a group led by the Union Attorney General’s Office and composed of retired lawyers appointed via a selection system, have taken responsibility for work to amend the law so as to reinstate elected advocate positions. In 2018 the group submitted a new draft Bar Council Act to the union legislature (Aung Ye Thwin 2018). If passed, the law will return to lawyers the right to select the majority of representatives from among their peers, and in so doing perhaps buoy hopes that the lawyering community in Myanmar might again regain some of the autonomy, vigour and professionalism that it had in decades prior to military rule.

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In sum, under NLD government Myanmar’s law, legal institutions and lawyers have emerged somewhat from their time in the shadows of military dictatorship each still wrestling with the experience of being shrouded in darkness for so long. Although there is a discernible difference in atmosphere, and notable changes to how people express their rights to freedoms and protections under law, heavy administrative barriers to legal claims remain. In some cases they remain because of inertia, or because of the shortcomings of legal institutions. In other cases they have been actively reinforced. Nevertheless, Myanmar’s lawyers were by the end of the first NLD government better positioned than they had been for decades to organise and empower their profession and thus advance claims that might effect further changes to how legal institutions and law in Myanmar do their work, and to what ends. For all that, they had for the most part failed to overcome deep layers of apathy, prejudice and fear to advocate for the rights of extremely vulnerable groups of people in Myanmar, notably the Rohingya, and in some quarters had worked to subvert or deny these rights.

Conclusion: future challenges Myanmar’s legal situation in 2020 is not at all what it was in 2010. The country no longer has thousands of political detainees who passed through courts, if they reached them at all, via trials in which the presence or absence of a lawyer made no difference. Positive law has again become something more than just a slip of paper prepared by a committee with an army officer’s signature attached. And outside of court the likes of Wa Lone are not thrust anonymously into the backs of waiting police vehicles but today are permitted to speak to throngs of journalists and activists from the steps of courthouses before being taken to detention or trial. So as it draws to a close the first decade of post-­military government in Myanmar might be said to have brought with it cause for optimism about the renewed possibilities for law, legal institutions and lawyers. But this was also a time of considerable continuity with what had gone before. Appetites for justice and truth having been whetted were for the most part left unsatisfied. Few expected that law and legal institutions would undergo some kind of renaissance after 2011. But many modest hopes for changes to law, for new modes of law enforcement, and for, with the NLD in government, a more deliberate and sustained programme of social justice through legal remedies had by the end of the decade not been met. Perhaps the single most important indicator of the possibilities for law in the new Myanmar is under what circumstances the army, and individual soldiers, might be made legally responsible for criminal wrongdoing and civil liability. Undoubtedly, the army in Myanmar today does not enjoy the same level of impunity that it did prior to 2011. But for as long as the military can resist the calls of protestors and legislators for it to return farmlands it has stolen, and for as long as its personnel continue to enjoy ‘everyday impunity’ (Cheesman et al. 2016) for violence ­committed against civilians, whether in warzones or otherwise, hopes that law might contribute to progressive political and social change in Myanmar will be

56   Mish Khan and Nick Cheesman

dampened. The findings of court user satisfaction surveys might conceivably reveal important facts about the day-­to-day experiences of people in Myanmar with law, legal institutions and lawyers, but it is Wa Lone’s terse rhetorical question outside of court with which this chapter began that rings truest. And while some who hear it – and the many other calls like it – are motivated to join the struggle for law, legal institutions and lawyering in Myanmar, others ask with him where, in the National League for Democracy’s time, are the possibilities for truth and justice to be found? Do the answers to the question rest with law and legal institutions, or somewhere else, and despite of them?

References Aung Ye Thwin 2018. ‘Second Amyotha Hluttaw’s ninth regular session holds twelfth-­day meeting’, Global New Light of Myanmar, August 24. Available from: www.globalnewlightofmyanmar.com/second-­amyotha-hluttaws-­ninth-regular-­session-concludes/. Batesmith, A and J Stevens 2018. ‘In the absence of the rule of law: everyday lawyering, dignity and resistance in Myanmar’s “disciplined democracy” ’. Social and Legal Studies 28(5): 573–599. Cheesman, N 2010. ‘The incongruous return of habeas corpus to Myanmar’. In N Cheesman, M Skidmore and T Wilson (eds) Ruling Myanmar: From Cyclone Nargis to National Elections. Singapore: ISEAS, 90–111. Cheesman, N 2011. ‘How an authoritarian regime in Burma used special courts to defeat judicial independence’. Law and Society Review 45(4): 801–30. Cheesman, N 2015. Opposing the Rule of Law: How Myanmar’s Courts Make Law and Order. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cheesman, N 2016. ‘Myanmar and the promise of the political’. In N Cheesman and N Farrelly (eds) Conflict in Myanmar: War, Politics, Religion. Singapore: ISEAS, 353–66. Cheesman, N and Kyaw Min San 2014. ‘Not just defending; advocating for law in Myanmar’. Wisconsin International Law Journal 31(3): 702–33. Cheesman, N, B D’Costa and T Haberkorn 2016. ‘Anticipating the struggle against everyday impunity in Myanmar through accounts from Bangladesh and Thailand’. Asia and the Pacific Policy Studies 3(1): 48–61. Chit Win and T Kean 2017. ‘Communal conflict in Myanmar: the legislature’s response, 2012–2015’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 47(3): 413–39. Chua, L J and D Gilbert 2015. ‘Sexual orientation and gender identity minorities in transition: LGBT rights and activism in Myanmar’. Human Rights Quarterly 37(1): 1–28. Crouch, M 2014a. ‘The layers of legal development in Myanmar’. In M Crouch and T Lindsey (eds) Law, Society and Transition in Myanmar. Oregon: Hart, 33–59. Crouch, M 2014b. ‘The Common Law and constitutional writs: prospects for accountability in Myanmar’, in M Crouch and T Lindsey (eds) Law, Society and Transition in Myanmar. Oregon: Hart, 141–58. Crouch, M 2015. ‘Constructing religion by law in Myanmar’. The Review of Faith and International Affairs 13(4): 1–11. Crouch, M 2018a. ‘Judicial power in Myanmar and the challenge of judicial independence’. In H P Lee (ed.) Asia-­Pacific Judiciaries: Impartiality, Integrity, Independence. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Crouch, M 2018b. ‘Dictators, democrats and constitutional dialogue: Myanmar’s constitutional tribunal’. International Journal of Constitutional Law 16(2): 421–46.

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Dawkins, A and N Cheesman, forthcoming. ‘Political lawyers and the legal occupation in Myanmar’. In H Whalen Bridge (ed.) The Lawyer’s Role in Access to Justice: Asian and Comparative Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ei Ei Toe Lwin and Shoon Naing 2017. ‘ “The death of the rule of law”: coming to terms with the loss of U Ko Ni’. Myanmar Times, February 2. Available from: www.mmtimes. com/national-­news/24784-the-­death-of-­the-rule-­of-law-­coming-to-­terms-with-­theloss-­of-u-­ko-ni.html. FEM (Free Expression Myanmar) 2017. ‘66(d): No Real Change’. Available from: http:// freeexpressionmyanmar.org/wp-­content/uploads/2017/12/66d-no-­real-change.pdf. Frydenlund, I 2017. ‘Religious liberty for whom? The Buddhist politics of religious freedom during Myanmar’s transition to democracy’. Nordic Journal of Human Rights 35(1): 55–73. Grafilo, J 2018. ‘Soldiers get 10 years for Inn Din killings’. Myanmar Times, April 12. Available from: www.mmtimes.com/news/soldiers-­get-10-years-­inn-din-­killings.html. Harding, A 2018. ‘Theories of law and development: Asian trajectories and the salience of judicial reform in Myanmar’. Asian Journal of Social Science 46(4–5): 421–44. Hein Ko Soe and T Kean 2017. ‘66(d): The defamation menace’. Frontier Myanmar, January 13. Available from: https://frontiermyanmar.net/en/66d-the-­defamation-menace. ICJ (International Commission of Jurists) 2016. ‘Handbook on habeas corpus in Myanmar’, May 2016. Available from: www.icj.org/wp-­content/uploads/2016/06/Myanmar-­ Handbook-on-­Habeas-Corpus-­Publications-Reports-­thematic-reports-­2016-ENG.pdf. ILAC/CEELI (International Legal Assistance Consortium/CEELI) 2014. Emerging Faces: Lawyers in Myanmar. Prague: ILAC/CEELI Institute. Justice Base 2017a. ‘Behind closed doors: obstacles and opportunities for public access to Myanmar’s Courts’. June 2017. Justice Base 2017b. ‘Monitoring in Myanmar: an analysis of Myanmar’s compliance with fair trial rights’. October 2017. Lasseter, T 2018. ‘Special report: dangerous news – how two young reporters shook Myanmar’, August 8. Available from: www.reuters.com/article/us-­myanmar-reporters-­ democracy-specialre/special-­report-dangerous-­news-how-­two-young-­reporters-shook-­ myanmar-idUSKBN1KT1AD. McCarthy, S 2018. ‘Rule of law expedited: land title reform and justice in Burma (Myanmar)’. Asian Studies Review 42(2): 229–46. Mark, S 2016. ‘Are the odds of justice “stacked” against them? Challenges and opportunities for securing land claims by smallholder farmers in Myanmar’. Critical Asian Studies 48(3): 443–60. Myint Zan 2008. ‘Legal education in Burma since the mid-­1960s’. Journal of Burma Studies 12: 63–107. Myint Zan 2017. ‘Rule of law concepts in Burma’s constitutions and actual practice: no ground for optimism’. In A Harding and Khin Khin Oo (eds) Constitutionalism and Legal Change in Myanmar. Oxford: Hart, 25–46. Nardi, M 2017. ‘How the constitutional tribunal’s jurisprudence sparked a crisis’. In A Harding and Khin Khin Oo (eds) Constitutionalism and Legal Change in Myanmar. Oxford: Hart, 173–92. Nyi Nyi Kyaw 2017. ‘Unpacking the presumed statelessness of Rohingyas’. Journal of Immigrant and Refugee Studies 15(3): 269–86. Prasse-­Freeman, E 2014. ‘Conceptions of justice and the rule of law’, in D Steinberg (ed.) Myanmar: The Dynamics of an Evolving Polity. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 89–114. Prasse-­Freeman, E 2020. ‘Of punishment, protest, and press conferences: contentious politics amidst despotic decision in contemporary Burmese courtrooms’. In G Radics, G and P Ciocchini (eds) Criminal Legalities in the Global South. London: Routledge.

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Reuters 2018. ‘reuters journalist wa lone Speaks from Court’, April 12. Available from: www. youtube.com/watch?v=xQ5NKFI9iNc. San Yamin Aung 2018. ‘Amendments to expand authority of anti-­corruption commission in the works’. The Irrawaddy, June 6. Available from: www.irrawaddy.com/news/burma/ amendments-­expand-authority-­anti-corruption-­commission-works.html. Saw Nang and A Ramzy 2019. ‘Four men convicted in killing of top aide to Myanmar’s leader’. New York Times, February 19. Available from: www.nytimes.com/2019/02/15/ world/asia/myanmar-­trial-assassination-­ko-ni.html. Schonthal, B 2016. ‘Securing the Sasana through law: Buddhist constitutionalism and Buddhist-­interest litigation in Sri Lanka’. Modern Asian Studies 50(6): 1966–2008. Simion, K 2018. ‘Translating rule of law to Myanmar: intermediaries’ power and influence’. PhD thesis. Canberra, ACT: Australian National University. Taylor, R 2009. The State in Myanmar. Singapore: NUS Press. Thu Thu Aung 2018. ‘Protests as Myanmar parliament debates new curbs on demonstrations’. Reuters, March 5. Available from: www.reuters.com/article/us-­myanmar-protest/protests­as-myanmar-­parliament-debates-­new-curbs-­on-demonstrations-­idUSKBN1GH1Q5. Thu Thu Aung and P McPherson 2019. ‘Myanmar court rejects appeal by jailed Reuters reporters’. Reuters, January 11. Available from www.reuters.com/article/us-­myanmarjournalists/myanmar-­court-rejects-­appeal-by-­jailed-reuters-­reporters-idUSKCN1P50HL. Tungnirun, A 2018. ‘Practising on the moon: globalization and legal consciousness of foreign corporate lawyers in Myanmar’. Asian Journal of Law and Society 5(1): 49–67. Union Supreme Court 2016. ‘Handbook for media access to courts’. Union Supreme Court website, October 2015. Available from: www.unionsupremecourt.gov.mm/sites/ default/files/supreme/media_hand_book.pdf. Union Supreme Court 2017. ‘Code of judicial ethics for Myanmar Judges’. Union Supreme Court website, August 2. Available from: www.unionsupremecourt.gov.mm/sites/ default/files/supreme/judicial_ethics_english_version.pdf. Union Supreme Court 2018. ‘Formation of courts’. Union Supreme Court website. Available from: www.unionsupremecourt.gov.mm/?q=content/formation-­courts-different-­ levels. USAID 2017. ‘USAID Burma fact sheet’. USAID. Available from: www.usaid.gov/sites/ default/files/documents/1861/2017_USAID_Burma_DGHA_Fact_Sheet.pdf. Ye Mon 2018. ‘Dismissed Yangon advocate general brought before high court for bribery’. Frontier Myanmar, September 25. Available from: https://frontiermyanmar.net/en/ dismissed-­yangon-advocate-­general-brought-­before-high-­court-for-­bribery.

5 ETHNIC POLITICS Diversity and agency amid persistent violence Matthew J Walton

Introduction One of the defining elements of Myanmar is its ethnic diversity. However, decades of repressive military governance premised in part on the perceived centrifugal effects of ethnicity have resulted in national identity being one of the most contested aspects of the modern Burmese polity. At a national level, an ethnic Burman identity dominates in virtually every sphere but similarly domineering processes of hegemonic identity creation have occurred within many of the country’s other ethnic identities. By analysing shifting dynamics of ethnic politics through different eras in Myanmar’s modern history and at sub-­national levels, this chapter balances an understanding that ethnic identity is constructed with (and thus, contingent on) recognition that ethnicity and its effects are nonetheless real and politically impactful and thus must be a central consideration of political reform in the country (see Chapter 15). This chapter also seeks to treat ethnic identity and politics in Myanmar as a field that has been undeniably shaped by violence and repression, yet constituted by much more than that. One of the most notable works that has pushed back against this conflict framing with regard to ethnic Karen subjectivity is Ardeth Thawnghmung’s work on ‘the other Karen’, which focuses on Karen communities without direct involvement in armed conflict, who defined their identities and relationships in diverse ways that belied a singular Karen perspective (Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung 2011). In addition to recognising ethnic positions not primarily defined by conflict, Jenny Hedström has argued, in writing on women’s support for or engagement in the armed Kachin ethno-­nationalist struggle, that dominant lenses that see particular groups simply as victims of state violence or repression both deny the agency of those groups and prevent a more nuanced and accurate understanding of the conditions of conflict as well as potential strategies for its prevention (Hedström 2016).

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Before considering the dynamics of ethnic politics in recent eras, this introduction briefly explains scholarly views on ethnicity and the lack of correspondence of indigenous categorisation systems in Myanmar with the categories of ‘ethnicity’ and ‘race’, and the resulting political effects.

Ethnicity as an identity category The dominant scholarly position takes ethnic identity to be socially constructed, with general agreement that ethnicity consists of cultural differences that come to be seen as socially and politically salient through repeated interactions between groups over time. The anthropologist Charles Keyes has argued that this political relevance emerges particularly when cultural differences are articulated with reference to a distinct national ideology or aspiration, an observation that is particularly salient to ethnic contestation of a dominant national narrative in Myanmar (Keyes 1997). However, it is important to remember that, while scholarly consensus might see ethnicity as malleable, to many it is an integral part of their cultural identity and sense of personhood; as Mikael Gravers notes, ‘ethnic belonging is existentially important’ (Gravers 2007: 2). This is particularly significant when we look at the development and reification of ethnic identity in Myanmar in a historical context and its continued effects today. Historians and anthropologists have described the fluidity of ethnicity in the pre-­colonial period in Myanmar, even suggesting that individuals could strategically change their ethnicity as a conscious choice (Lieberman 1978: 457; Leach 1970). However, as ethnic categories acquired increasing political, social and economic significance, they also gained stability as markers of personhood. Additionally, in Myanmar, for many groups, opposition to the central government and violence committed by the national army (Tatmadaw) have been largely expressed in terms of ethnic identity and carried out along ethnic lines. In this way, ethnicity has not only been a source of cultural identity, but a central marker of political resistance.

The conceptual language of ethnicity One of the challenges in navigating discourses of ethnicity in Myanmar relates to language. That is, the words that people use to describe themselves, their various identities, and their relationships to central political authorities and ‘Myanmar’ culture, do not usually correspond directly with commonly used English terms. For example, the Burmese word lu myo literally translates as ‘type of person’, but is usually rendered as ‘race’ or ‘ethnicity’ and could also elicit answers related to nationality or religion. What looks like conceptual imprecision is likely simply the legacy of pre-­colonial systems of identification that were less fixed and had different points of reference; but the classificatory demands of the British colonial regime, and the Westphalian nation-­state norm more generally have resulted in conflicting cultural and political categories with serious implications for citizenship and national belonging.

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Another Burmese term denoting ethnic group is tain yin tha, which has connotations of indigeneity and is usually used to refer to a list of 135 officially recognised national groups. Tain yin tha also carries with it several political connotations and is deployed in different ways depending on the identity and intentions of the speaker. A non-­Burman would likely include herself in the category of tain yin tha (although some might choose other words that do not accept the Myanmar state’s terminology). However, many Burmans unconsciously use the term tain yin tha to signify minority (that is, non-­Burman) ethnic groups, although if they are seeking to reinforce the claim that all ethnic groups are brothers and sisters in the same Myanmar identity, they may insist that Burmans are also included in tain yin tha. Nick Cheesman (2017) has demonstrated how successive governments have, in recent decades, made tain yin tha the unavoidable conceptual lens through which claims to citizenship must be made in Myanmar, which, ironically, has increased the sense of threat to recognised populations from claims coming from non-­ recognised groups such as the Rohingya (see Chapter 17). While it appears to be scholarly convention today to use Burman, Bama, or Bamar to refer to the majority ethnic group in English, and the word ‘Burmese’ to refer to all citizens of the country, many non-­Burmans continue to use the term ‘Burmese’ interchangeably with ‘Burman’. Similarly, although the word ‘Myanmar’ is officially intended to refer to all citizens of the country, in practice many people elide its usage to mean, at different times, either the majority ethnic group or all citizens of the country (and occasionally, all officially recognised ethnic groups). Far from being a mere semantic detail, I would classify this as an indicator of majority ethnic privilege for Burmans (Walton 2013). That is, Burmans are always unproblematically ‘Myanmar’, citizens and members of the nation; while non-­Burman groups can (under the right circumstances) be included in the national identity, their membership in the category is always provisional and contingent on factors such as how much they have assimilated to a Myanmar cultural identity and what type and degree of opposition they might manifest towards the state. In recent decades, non-­Burman ethnic groups have increasingly rejected use of the term ‘ethnic minorities’, arguing that it reinforces a process of historical marginalisation and diminution. A more commonly used English phrase during the twenty-­first century has been ‘ethnic nationalities’. Just these examples and their multiple usages suggest that there is an indigenous categorisation system (or systems, since members of different ethnic groups might also understand the terms differently) that does not neatly map onto the race/ethnicity distinction and that that system is itself continually being contested and reformulated. In a country with the diversity of Myanmar, none of these axes of identity have ever completely defined national identity, although a Burman Buddhist core has been dominant and ascendant nationally at least since independence in 1948.

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Myanmar under military rule: ethnicity as oppositional identity or existential threat? While the Burmese government had been faced with a number of significant ethnic, ideological and religious insurgencies from the time of independence, a concerted pacification campaign by the military through the 1950s allowed the government to win back a precarious hold over most of the country. In doing so, as Mary ­Callahan (2003) has described, the armed forces gradually came to see many of its own citizens, particularly ethnic nationalities, as potential enemies and as threats to the unity and sovereignty of the country. This set the stage for a variety of militarised interventions into non-­Burman territories and communities, ranging from assimilation to co-­optation to attempts at extermination. Scholarly and popular accounts of the 1962 military coup led by General Ne Win remain divided on its exact causes, but two contributing factors are relevant to considerations of ethnic politics. First, Prime Minister U Nu’s controversial attempt to establish Buddhism as the state religion (which was passed as a constitutional amendment in August 1961, then countered by an additional amendment that sought to explicitly protect the rights of religious minorities) inflamed opposition largely along ethnic lines, as the vast majority of the non-­Buddhist population of Burma was made up of non-­Burman ethnic groups. Second, the Federal Movement, a national political dialogue begun by Shan leaders in 1960, sought to draw attention to the broken promises of the 1947 Panglong Agreement and address questions of devolution of power and the future structure of the Burmese state (Smith 1991: 195–6). Both of these discussions were cut off when Ne Win seized power on 2 March 1962. The immediate aftermath of the coup saw an attempt at establishing peace through a widely inclusive set of talks through 1963 and 1964, which included ethnic armed groups (EAGs) and ideological insurgencies such as the Red Flag Communists. Martin Smith notes the divergence of subsequent accounts of this peace parley on the part of the government and the EAGs, with accusations of insincerity on both sides, but also highlights what was, at the time, a genuine and widespread hope for peace (Smith 1991: 206–18). Once these talks broke down, with only some token agreements and surrenders, the country was again plunged into fighting across much of its territory. In many cases, it was not easy to disentangle ethnically oriented insurgencies from ideological ones, although these groups often fought each other (for territory, resources and control over populations) as well as the Tatmadaw (Lintner 1999). One of the most brutal and destructive aspects of the military campaign against EAGs and ethnic communities was the Four Cuts policy, implemented from the mid-­1960s. This counter-­insurgency strategy was designed to ‘cut the four main links (food, funds, intelligence and recruits) between insurgents, their families and local villagers’ (Smith 1991: 259). In addition to colour-­coding areas as white (government controlled), black (insurgent controlled) and brown (contested or mixed authority zones), decades of this policy resulted in waves of refugees and internally

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displaced populations, conditions that continue to characterise Myanmar’s ethnic states today (South and Jolliffe 2015). One of the dynamics that has consistently defined Myanmar’s ethnic politics since independence has been the deployment of policies labeled as ‘Burmanisation’, a term which has both assimilation and extermination aspects. From an assimilation standpoint, the practice of Burmanisation usually refers to efforts to impose a common national culture on Myanmar’s diverse ethnic communities. For example, researchers have demonstrated the limited ways in which non-­Burmans are present in Myanmar’s school texts and histories, often appearing as negative figures or with their ethnic identities minimised, so as to be appropriated as national icons (Salem­Gervais and Metro 2012). Another example is the way that contested and sceptical ethnic positions on independence from Britain surrounding the 1947 Panglong Conference have been sanitised into a (historically inaccurate) homogenising national narrative of unified resistance to colonial rule (Walton 2008). The paradigmatic example of Burmanisation was the military government’s 1989 ‘Adaptation of Expression Law’, which officially changed the name of the country (in English) from Burma to Myanmar. In addition to its anti-­colonial motivation (removing a number of British names for places), representatives of the government also lauded the change as an expression of national reconciliation, as it would de-­link the name of the country as a whole from the name of its ethnic majority, the Burmans. However, this claim was disingenuous, not only because both terms were names for the country in Burmese (the language of the Burmans) but also because the law changed a number of names that were rendered in ethnic nationality languages to Burmanised forms. Anthropologist Gustaaf Houtman has described this as a related, but distinct, process of ‘Myanmafication’ (Houtman 1999). In looking at Burmanisation, it is also necessary to see in this process not just assimilation but also the erasure of particular cultural practices and the elimination of non-­Burman ethnic groups as political communities with their own heterogeneous and autonomous histories. While the Burmese military has consistently framed its offensives against EAGs in terms of national pacification and consolidation (at least until the recent campaigns of violence against the Rohingya, where the expulsion and extermination aspects are more blatant), the same activities – whether physical violence from soldiers or cultural violence in the form of disregarding histories and perspectives – have often been viewed from the side of ethnic nationalities as ‘annihilation’ (Lahpai 2014). Burmanisation is also present in the ways in which scholars have written accounts of ethnic politics (including this one) largely with reference to non-­Burman ethnic groups’ interactions with Burmese state institutions or using sources that do not foreground ethnic accounts of their own politics and history. To some extent, this is conditioned by the relative lack of sources, although more research and analysis is now being produced by ethnic scholars.1 It is also important to note that similar processes of hegemonic identity formation have taken place within non-­Burman ethnic nationalities, reflecting the persistence of essentialised understandings of ethnicity as inherent and naturalised, the

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internalisation and replication of processes of domination in the construction and assertion of collective ethnic identity, as well as the perils of a situation in which the prioritisation of internal unity for strategic and defensive purposes can lead to the suppression of alternative identities and narratives of community. Nick Cheesman has effectively described the challenge faced by Karen leaders who have had to fashion a common narrative of identity among people as diverse as ‘a Sgaw Karen highland animist swidden farmer who speaks only her own language and a western Pwo Karen delta Christian civil servant whose first language is Burmese’ (2002: 200). Ashley South (2007) has called this the ‘problem’ of Karen diversity, and has highlighted a Christian-­dominated paradigm of ‘Karen-­ness’ that has been reinforced not only by Karen National Union (KNU) elites in Myanmar and Thailand, but also by other diaspora groups. The projection of this unitary Karen identity generated feelings of exclusion among Buddhist Karen that, among other factors, contributed to a major split in 1994 in which the newly formed DKBA (Democratic Karen Buddhist Army, now known as Democratic Karen Benevolent Army) allied with government forces and facilitated the fall of the KNU headquarters at Manerplaw in 1995, a decisive moment in Myanmar’s long-­running civil conflict. Among the Kachin, Mandy Sadan locates the first ‘Kachin’ cultural project with ‘hegemonic overtones’ in a customary law commission established by the Kachin government in 1960 (2013: 335–41). She carefully unpacks tensions in the ways that the boundaries and terms of inclusivity in the Kachin ethno-­nationalist movement unfolded over the second half of the twentieth century, noting the strategic and defensive imperatives as well as subsequent efforts to use the Jinghpaw term wunpawng as a way of referring to a collective ‘Kachin’ community defined by shared culture and history, without privileging particular Jinghpaw lineages in that identification. Nonetheless, it is also the case that some members of groups usually classified as Kachin ‘tribes’, such as the Rawang and Lisu, do not necessarily identify with any of these ethnonyms and at times assert a Jinghpaw hegemony (Kiik 2016: 213). The purpose of these examples is not to delegitimise these groups or the political movements founded around them; rather, it is to reinforce the inherent conundrum of ethnic identity as a both necessary (and often essentialised) cultural and political resource as well as contingent and contested label. This highlights how difficult it can be for those within these identity groups to fully engage with the constructed nature and particular genealogies of ethnicity under conditions of repression and violence visited upon them largely due to the status of those ethnic identities in contemporary Myanmar. In an analysis dedicating to ‘decolonizing’ understandings of ethnic categories in Myanmar, Sadan advocates for a broader understanding of research methodologies and data, moving beyond elite-­produced texts to incorporate ritual, recitations and practices that would better reflect the diversity of subjectivities related to existing ethnic categories (Sadan 2007). Similarly, Karin Dean has analysed the disjuncture between geographical boundaries in defining Kachin territory and the ‘social spaces’ that, over time, are marked out by

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circulations engendered by trade, marriage or kinship (Dean 2007). This is sound advice for both researchers and members of these communities, yet engagement on terms such as these remains challenging under persistent conditions of political inequality, marginalisation and ongoing violence. In the post-­1988 era, the military-­led government adopted a range of different strategies for engaging with EAGs and the political entities associated with ethnic nationality groups. In part, these strategies reflected the outcomes of negotiations that were part of the ceasefire process that lasted from 1989–97. During this period, 17 ceasefires were agreed to with different EAGs, largely on the initiative of the then Military Intelligence head General Khin Nyunt. In a comprehensive study of the ceasefires, Burmese scholars Zaw Oo and Win Min (2007) noted their largely military nature, and the lack of accompanying comprehensive political settlements; this has been a consistent complaint of EAGs and ethnic nationality communities up to the present and has significantly shaped the multi-­pronged process of the current ceasefire period, described in the following sections. Following on from these ceasefires, Mary Callahan (2007) identified three distinct patterns of relational political authority in ethnic states: marked but limited devolution characterised those areas that had won nominal self-­governance, such as the Kokang and Wa Special Regions; varying degrees of direct military occupation were present in Northern Rakhine State and parts of Karen State; while some degree of (usually grudging or pragmatic) coexistence typified relationships of authority in Kachin and Chin States. Kevin Woods coined the term ‘ceasefire capitalism’ to refer to the constellation of relationships in border areas that replaced active fighting with intensified granting of land concessions (and thus, land grabbing) and resource extraction that allowed the military to secure an increased presence in previously-­contested areas through commercial alliances with ethnic elites and armed groups. Far from diminishing military control, these new economic relationships allowed ‘Burmese state and military officials [to] direct capital flows into resource-­rich, non-­state uplands as an act of creating effective national state and military authority, sovereignty and territory in practice’ (Woods 2011: 249). The absence of a political settlement as part of the ceasefires of the 1990s meant that economic transformations that nominally provided more opportunity for individuals than conditions of active conflict actually undermined the stability of the ceasefire, with local populations increasingly seeing government and military penetration in threatening and assimilating ways. There is a persistent narrative from Myanmar military and government perspectives that broadly associates ethnic communities and EAGs with drug trafficking, as a way to delegitimise their political grievances. Without wishing to reinforce that generalising trope, the drug trade has certainly fuelled conflict in ethnic areas and provided funding for some organisations (Lintner 1999; Smith 1991). Similarly to Woods’s analysis of trade of other licit and illicit commodities, Patrick Meehan has argued that the opium/heroin trade in Shan State since the ceasefires has, perhaps unexpectedly, helped to consolidate state power in the region, albeit in a more managed or negotiated fashion with armed actors (2015).

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Despite ongoing tensions within and between ethnic organisations, throughout the 1990s and 2000s there were multiple attempts to build solidarity and a united front among EAGs, non-­Burman ethnic communities and Burman-­led political opposition movements. The first of these, the Democratic Alliance of Burma (DAB), was formed at a meeting in KNU territory in 1988 and was the initial basis for an alliance of EAGs, student political groups and opposition politicians that continued well into the 1990s. Another front was the Ethnic Nationalities Solidarity and Cooperation Committee (later renamed the Ethnic Nationalities Council), formed in 2001 with the intention to promote the ‘New Panglong Initiative’, a proposal for ethnic reconciliation and political change. Another central aspect of ethnic politics in contemporary Myanmar has been the dynamics of diaspora, not only the physical presence of forcibly displaced populations along Myanmar’s borders and in countries around the world, but the impact of these groups on the country’s politics and standing internationally. For decades, the Thai-­Burma border has not only been home to hundreds of thousands of refugees from the country, it has been a base of operations for EAGs and for a diverse spectrum of community groups and research and advocacy organisations, many of which are drawn from ethnic nationality communities and concerned with issues related to recognition and political autonomy (for example, the Women’s League of Burma, the Karen Human Rights Group and the Mae Tao Clinic).2 Ethnic governance institutions have also developed in border areas (for example, the Karen Education Department), in many instances providing necessary services that exceed (in quality and availability) what is offered by the central Myanmar government, but now prompting challenging discussions over the form and pace of ‘convergence’, or integration into a national bureaucracy (Jolliffe 2014). Kirsten McConnachie has demonstrated the vitality and innovation of plural forms of governance in refugee camps on the border, refuting stereotypes of refugee passivity and instead highlighting camps as spaces where productive networks are created within communities alongside engagement with global discourses of rights and justice (2014). While this chapter cannot go into the work of these border groups in detail, it is worth noting that many accounts of Myanmar’s recent political reforms have highlighted the efforts of these border and expatriate groups as essential to the process, both in terms of external and global pressure and campaigning as well as in supporting domestic communities and resistance work within Myanmar (for example, Mullen 2016).

Thein Sein and the USDP: electoral opportunities and renewed ceasefire efforts In 2010, Myanmar held its first national election in over two decades, ushering in an era of semi-­civilian governance. With the NLD barred from participating, the military-­aligned Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP) won an overwhelming majority of votes and seats in the country’s legislative bodies and former general Thein Sein became president. Despite widespread expectations that reform

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would be gradual and minimal, his government surprised observers by quickly pushing through a number of politically liberalising measures and prioritising ceasefires and a process of national reconciliation. The 2008 constitution was the outcome of a prolonged (and delayed) process of constitutional consultation that nominally included input from many of the individuals who won seats in the 1990 election, but overall, was dominated by military interests. Although it broadly retained a unitary state structure, the constitution did provide for a number of particular opportunities related to ethnic representation. One of these is the designation of Ministers for ‘taing yin tha affairs’, awarded to ethnic groups that constitute a minimum population level and satisfy several other criteria. A preliminary study of the activities of these ministers noted their effectiveness in pushing for legislation that expanded their mandates and available budgets and supporting language and cultural activities for their groups, but that the ambiguity of ethnic identification as a category – as well as the possibility of drastic shifts in demographics and representation due to census results, explored in more detail below – has also undercut their effectiveness (Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung and Yadana 2018). One of the events that prompted a more cautionary tone in response to the optimism was the resumption of hostilities between the Tatmadaw and the Kachin Independence Army (KIA) in June 2011, after a 17-year ceasefire. The reasons for the collapse of the ceasefire are complex and multifaceted. They are considered from different perspectives in Mandy Sadan’s (2016) edited volume, but it is probably sufficient to say that a major contributing factor was the government’s unwillingness to address political concerns through a formal agreement. The fighting initially displaced over 100,000 people, many of whom are still living in camps or in situations of precarity (Lahpai 2014). While the Kachin conflict was escalating, the government prioritised peace talks with other groups, signing or renegotiating ceasefires with ten additional EAGs, including the KNU, which formally ended what had been the longest running insurgency in the world. The government designated retired military officer and former minister U Aung Min to lead the negotiations, supported by the newly created Myanmar Peace Centre and other actors. EAGs also created several platforms for collective negotiation, including the United Nationalities Federal Council (UNFC) and the Working Group for Ethnic Coordination (WGEC); they also eventually established the National Ceasefire Coordinating Team (NCCT) as the select group to directly engage with the government. This marked a period of engagement that was unprecedented by comparison with previous ceasefire periods, largely because the government had also committed to linking the peace process to a broader, institutionalised political dialogue. Some scholars have argued that the broader democratic reforms as well as tangible concessions by the government were crucial in creating conditions under which EAGs could confidently join a ceasefire (Bertrand et al. 2020). Another perspective sees the success of the ceasefire as premised on the exploitation of divisions between factions within EAGs, implying a fragility to the resulting agreements (Brenner

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2018). While a Nationwide Ceasefire Agreement was signed in 2015, it did not include all of the EAGs (for an appraisal of the ‘problem’ of ‘all-­inclusiveness’ in the process see Lwin Cho Latt et al. 2018) and limited progress was made on related political reforms before the USDP lost its majority in the 2015 election. One issue that has highlighted the general dynamic of disconnect between ethnic conflict and the formal political process has been land reform and land rights. Efforts to reform land laws since the USDP government have largely ignored or insufficiently addressed some primary concerns expressed by ethnic nationalities, including the recognition of existing tenure systems (including shifting cultivation practices), the right of return for displaced populations and redress for land confiscated under previous military governments (Kramer 2015). Ethnic language education has also returned as a subject of public debate, after having been largely outlawed during past decades of military governance. Some existing programmes were developed by EAGs and their related political and administrative wings and, unsurprisingly, have tended to teach a more anti-­state curriculum that focuses on ethnic heritage and sovereignty. Others – a result, in part, of geographical proximity to the centre as well as relatively lower levels of active conflict – have created systems that prioritise ethnic language education at early levels, yet gradually integrate Burmese and English education, so as to better prepare students for a national education system (Lall and South 2014). While national and state-­level regulations have opened up space for mother-­tongue-based education, it is unevenly distributed and variations in linguistic density as well as existing institutions and resources mean that a single policy will likely not suit the country’s ethno-­linguistic diversity (McCormick 2020). Scholars and other observers of Myanmar have had good reason to be sceptical of official government statistics, not only through decades of self-­serving military-­ led governance but into the present as well. The April 2014 census, which took place with technical assistance provided by the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA), was roundly criticised for methodological and political reasons as well as its potential for causing unrest in periods of ethnic and religious tension (ICG 2014). A policy briefing in advance of the census from the Transnational Institute (TNI) highlighted the persistence of damaging and inaccurate colonial-­era classifications – the progenitors of the country’s current list of 135 recognised ethnic groups – which carried out modern day equivalent of ‘divide and rule’ (TNI 2014). With respondents only allowed to mark one lu myo category (see above and the TNI report for a discussion of the problematic nature of translating this as ‘ethnicity’), the existence of subcategories under the eight ‘main national races’ (as many as 33 among the Shan and 53 among the Chin) threatened to undercut ethnic nationality population figures, with real political and representational consequences, as described earlier in this section. Furthermore, many of the available categories conflated markers such as language, geographical positioning and kinship groupings with ethnicity (Callahan 2017). While general population data was released soon after enumeration, the report detailing religious demographics was not released until 2016; and the report with a

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breakdown of population according to ethnicity has still not been released, due to continued negotiations over the categories used. Anthropologist Jane Ferguson noted the unavoidably politicised nature of these sorts of classificatory exercises but also highlighted the range of entrenched interests at work in this debate. Many of the groups that were most vocal about the proposed census categories were critical of the particular categories in the census, rather than the process of delineation according to ethnicity, revealing the persistent appeal of ethnic identification in Myanmar’s politics (Ferguson 2015: 24).

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: stagnation and alienation The 2015 election in Myanmar was largely assessed as free and fair and it brought about an abrupt change in government through an overwhelming NLD victory. Now generally seen as a national vote of repudiation of military rule (and thus, of its proxy party the USDP), one of the striking aspects of the vote was how poorly ethnic political parties performed, in most cases garnering fewer votes and fewer seats than in the 2010 election. The only legislative bodies where the NLD did not win majorities were the Shan, Kachin and Rakhine State Parliaments. Political scientist Ardeth Thawnghmung points out that, since the NLD was barred from participating in the 2010 election, many of the ethnic political parties allied with it also refused to participate, leaving space for other members of these ethnic groups to form new parties. When the NLD re-­entered the electoral scene in the 2012 by-­ election, its previously allied parties also re-­emerged, setting up contestation with the newly formed parties and either splitting the ‘ethnic vote’ or alienating ethnic nationality voters who saw the proliferation of ethnic parties as evidence of lack of unity (Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung 2016: 136–7). The 2015 election was also notable in that, perhaps expecting to be able to capitalise on its oppositional reputation, the NLD refused to enter into formal pacts with any parties, including previous allies. This reluctance to govern cooperatively extended to the selection of Chief Ministers of states and regions, a power reserved to the central government, but which proved to be particularly contentious in those ethnic states where the NLD had not won a majority in the state parliaments. It also seemed to generate renewed efforts among ethnic parties to negotiate mergers and strategically consolidate ethnic votes in advance of the 2020 election. Aung San is generally acclaimed as the father of the modern Burmese nation, even by many non-­Burmans. His effective role in eliciting agreement from the Shan, Kachin and Chin leaders who attended the 1947 Panglong Conference is widely cited as evidence that an alternative historical trajectory of a more meaningfully federal Burma could have been possible, if not for his tragic assassination in July 1947. It is ironic then, that the NLD government’s recent attempts to memorialise him in different ways in ethnic states across the country have provoked a sustained, critical outcry from non-­Burman communities. One example is the 2017 controversy over naming a bridge in Mon State after  Aung San. After the name was proposed by representatives in the national

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parliament, the Mon State government rejected the name. Despite growing popular demonstrations in the weeks leading up to by-­elections held on 1 April, NLD parliamentarians pushed through a bill to establish the name; the NLD candidate lost the by-­election vote in that constituency to the USDP. Much of the media coverage of the affair included accusations of Burmanisation, although politicking and disputes between two major Mon parties (which seemed to split the vote between themselves) was also a factor. Similarly, throughout 2018 and 2019, regular protests of a proposed statue of Aung San in Loikaw, in Karenni (Kayah) State, resulted in dozens of people – mostly students – being arrested and charged with defamation and unlawful assembly. The issue has remained salient in Loikaw and in cities across the country and continues to be a flashpoint for ethnic grievances and complaints regarding Burmanisation and state repression of freedom of speech. As one Karenni student leader put it, ‘Our state has its own identity and our own respected leaders. We want to build statues of our (historical) leaders’ (Lawi Weng 2018). The NLD government’s heavy-­handed approach appears to be sabotaging its efforts at ethnic solidarity, ironically through efforts to commemorate the Burman leader most associated with national unity. Aung San Suu Kyi also sought to capitalise on her father’s legacy by rebranding the National Peace Dialogues mandated as part of the National Ceasefire Agreement (NCA) process as iterations of a twenty-­first-century Panglong process. Despite this gesture back to a potential (if contested) moment of national ethnic unity, these meetings have produced no notable progress, either towards a more inclusive, genuinely ‘nationwide’ ceasefire agreement or towards political agreements that would implement a more federal system of governance, either through constitutional change or other legal avenues. Indeed, the environment for negotiation has become more fractured under the NLD’s tenure, with the emergence of a new EAG front – dubbed the Northern Alliance and including the Arakan Army (AA), the KIA, the Myanmar National Democratic Alliance Army (MNDAA) and the Ta’ang National Liberation Army (TNLA) – that has been in open conflict with the Tatmadaw since its formation at the end of 2016. Finally, although the rise in what has been called ‘Buddhist nationalism’ might appear to be more closely related to religious identity, the phenomenon intersects with ethnic politics largely due to continued contestation over ‘national’ identity and the persistent presence of particular ethnic understandings of Buddhist identity and practice. In an astute analysis of the results of the 2015 election in Rakhine State, Than Tun noted that, despite the prevalence of anti-­Muslim sentiment among Rakhine Buddhists, the call from Burman-­dominated groups like Ma Ba Tha (the Organization to Protect Race and Religion) to support the USDP was largely rejected. Instead, ‘Rakhine ethno-­nationalism provided the Arakan National Party with an alternative electoral platform based on Rakhine ethnicity and their communal concerns’ (2016: 190). This can be contrasted with the enthusiastic adoption of the Ma Ba Tha branding among Karen Buddhist groups, suggesting a deep variation in the ethnic responses to and iterations of Buddhist ‘nationalist’ identities in Myanmar.

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Conclusion: future challenges The advent of a semi-­electoral political system in Myanmar since 2011, far from simply expanding opportunities for voting and political representation, has effectively opened up a much wider range of spaces in which ethnic politics can be articulated and contested. Previously focused primarily on violent, militarised conflict and repression in ethnic states along the borders during the decades of military and single-­party rule, debates over ethnic politics now play out in parliament, in the media, online, in contested development projects and in Myanmar’s robust civil society sphere. But violence – and the potential for violence – still fundamentally conditions the contours of these debates, as it affects the lives of Myanmar’s non-­ Burman ethnic population (Fink 2008). Whatever polarising risks might be associated with a federal governance structure based on ethnicity, ethnic identity seems to be an unavoidable axis of political contention in Myanmar, one that has been reinforced through violent repression up to the present day, but which also continues to be further institutionalised through ongoing legislative processes and reforms. Myanmar’s efforts at national reconciliation – implemented over time by multiple, Burman-­dominated regimes – have only just begun to engage with ethnic grievances, with the challenging question of past violence and exclusion and its effects, as well as the uncertain basis for a more inclusive political community in the future.

Notes 1 For two authoritative accounts from recent decades see Yawnghwe (1987) on Shan politics and Sakhong (2003) on Chin politics. 2 Many of these groups have, for decades, produced well-­informed reports that document both abuses by the military and other EAGs as well as the regular activities of ethnic nationality communities – especially women – in resisting domination and asserting sovereignty.

References Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung 2011. The ‘Other’ Karen in Myanmar: Ethnic Minorities and the Struggle without Arms. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung 2016. ‘The Myanmar elections 2015: why the National League for Democracy won a landslide victory’. Critical Asian Studies 48(1): 132–42. Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung and Yadana 2018. ‘Citizenship and minority rights: the role of “national race affairs” ministers in Myanmar’s 2008 constitution’. In A South and M Lall (eds) Citizenship in Myanmar: Ways of Being in and from Burma. Singapore: ISEAS Press. Bertrand, J, A Pelletier and Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung 2020. ‘First movers, democratization and unilateral concessions: overcoming commitment problems and negotiating a “nationwide cease-­fire” in Myanmar’. Asian Security 16(1): 15–34. DOI: 10.1080/ 14799855.2018.1471466.  Brenner, D 2018. ‘Inside the Karen insurgency: explaining conflict and conciliation in Myanmar’s changing borderlands’. Asian Security 14(2), 83–99.

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Callahan, M P 2003. Making Enemies: War and State Building in Burma. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Callahan, M P 2007. ‘Political authority in Burma’s ethnic minority states: devolution, occupation and coexistence’. Policy Studies, East-­West Center, 31. Callahan, M P 2017. ‘Distorted, dangerous data? “Lumyo” in the 2014 Myanmar population and housing census’. Sojourn: Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia 32(2): 452–78. Cheesman, N 2002. ‘Seeing “Karen” in the union of Myanmar’. Asian Ethnicity 3(2): 199–220. Cheesman, N 2017. ‘How in Myanmar “national races” came to surpass citizenship and exclude Rohingya’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 47(3): 461–83. Dean, K 2007. ‘Mapping the Kachin political landscape: constructing, contesting and crossing borders’. In M Gravers (ed.) Exploring Ethnic Diversity in Burma. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Ferguson, J M 2015. ‘Who’s counting? Ethnicity, belonging, and the national census in Burma/Myanmar’. Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 171: 1–28. Fink, C 2008. ‘Militarization in Burma’s ethnic states: causes and consequences’. Contemporary Politics 14(4): 447–62. Gravers, M 2007. ‘Introduction: ethnicity against state – state against ethnic diversity?’ In M Gravers (ed.) Exploring Ethnic Diversity in Burma. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Hedström, J E 2016. ‘A feminist political economy analysis of insecurity and violence in Kachin State’. In N Cheesman and N Farrelly (eds) Conflict in Myanmar: War, Politics, Religion. Singapore: ISEAS Press. Houtman, G 1999. Mental Culture in Burmese Crisis Politics: Aung San Suu Kyi and the National League for Democracy. Tokyo: Institute for the Study of Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies. ICG (International Crisis Group) 2014. ‘Counting the costs: Myanmar’s problematic census’. Asia Briefing, Yangon/Brussels. Jolliffe, K 2014. Ethnic Conflict and Social Services in Myanmar’s Contested Regions. Yangon: Asia Foundation. Keyes, C 1997. ‘Ethnic groups, ethnicity’. In T Barfield (ed.) The Blackwell Dictionary of Anthropology. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Kiik, L 2016. ‘Conspiracy, God’s plan and national emergency: Kachin popular analyses of the ceasefire era and its resource grabs’. In M Sadan (ed.) War and Peace in the Borderlands of Myanmar: The Kachin Ceasefire 1994–2011. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Kramer, T 2015. ‘Ethnic conflict and lands rights in Myanmar’. Social Research: An International Quarterly 82(2): 355–74. Lahpai, Seng Maw 2014. ‘State terrorism and international compliance: the Kachin armed struggle for political self-­determination’. In N Cheesman, N Farrelly and T Wilson (eds) Debating Democratization in Myanmar. Singapore: ISEAS Press. Lall, M and A South 2014. ‘Comparing models of non-­state ethnic education in Myanmar: the Mon and Karen national education regimes’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 44(2): 298–321. Lawi Weng 2018. ‘Karenni youth groups oppose planned statue of Gen Aung San in downtown Loikaw’. The Irrawaddy, June 21. Available from: www.irrawaddy.com/news/ burma/karenni-­youth-groups-­oppose-planned-­statue-gen-­aung-san-­downtown-loikaw. html, accessed 21 February 2019. Leach, E R 1970. Political Systems of Highland Burma: A Study of Kachin Social Structure. London: Athlone Press. Lieberman, V 1978. ‘Ethnic politics in eighteenth-­century Burma’. Modern Asian Studies 12(3): 455–82.

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Lintner, B 1999. Burma in Revolt: Opium and Insurgency since 1948. Chiang Mai: Silkworm. Lwin Cho Latt, B Hillman, Marlar Aung and Khin Sanda Myint 2018. ‘From ceasefire to dialogue: the problem of “all-­inclusiveness” in Myanmar’s stalled peace process’. In J Chambers, G McCarthy, N Farrelly and Chit Win (eds) Myanmar Transformed?: People, Place and Politics. Singapore: ISEAS Press. McConnachie, K 2014. Governing Refugees: Justice, Order and Legal Pluralism. London: Routledge. McCormick, P 2020. ‘Ethnic education systems in Burma: possibilities for harmonization and integration’. In P Chachavalpongpun, E Prasse-­Freeman and P Strefford (eds) Unraveling Myanmar’s Transition: Progress, Retrenchment, and Ambiguity amidst Liberalization. Singapore: NUS Press. Meehan, P 2015. ‘Fortifying or fragmenting the state? The political economy of the opium/ heroin trade in Shan State, Myanmar, 1988–2013’. Critical Asian Studies 47(2): 253–82. Mullen, M 2016. Pathways that Changed Myanmar. London: Zed Books. Sadan, M 2007. ‘Constructing and contesting the category “Kachin” in the colonial and post-­colonial Burmese state’. In M Gravers (ed.) Exploring Ethnic Diversity in Burma. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Sadan, M 2013. Being and Becoming Kachin: Histories beyond the State in the Borderworlds of Burma. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sadan, M (ed.) 2016. War and Peace in the Borderlands of Myanmar: The Kachin Ceasefire 1994–2011. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Sakhong, L H 2003. In Search of Chin Identity: A Study in Religion, Politics and Ethnic Identity in Burma. Richmond: NIAS Press. Salem-­Gervais, N and R Metro 2012. ‘A textbook case of nation-­building: the evolution of history curricula in Myanmar’. Journal of Burma Studies 16(1): 27–78. Smith, M 1991. Burma: Insurgency and the Politics of Ethnicity. London: Zed Books. South, A 2007. ‘Karen nationalist communities: the “problem” of diversity’. Contemporary Southeast Asia 29(1): 55–76. South, A and K Jolliffe 2015. ‘Forced migration: typology and local agency in Southeast Myanmar’. Contemporary Southeast Asia 37(2): 211–41. Than Tun 2016. ‘Ethnicity and Buddhist nationalism in the 2015 Rakhine State election results’. In N Cheesman and N Farrelly (eds) Conflict in Myanmar: War, Politics, Religion. Singapore: ISEAS Press. TNI (Transnational Institute) 2014 ‘Ethnicity without meaning, data without context: the 2014 census, identity and citizenship in Burma/Myanmar’. Burma Policy Briefing No. 13, February. Walton, M J 2008. ‘Ethnicity, conflict, and history in Burma: the myths of Panglong’. Asian Survey 48(6): 889–910. Walton, M J 2013. ‘The “wages of Burman-­ness”: ethnicity and Burman privilege in contemporary Myanmar’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 43(1): 1–27. Woods, K 2011. ‘Ceasefire capitalism: military–private partnerships, resource concessions and military–state building in the Burma–China borderlands’. Journal of Peasant Studies 38(4): 747–70. Yawnghwe, C T 1987. The Shan of Burma: Memoirs of a Shan Exile. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Zaw Oo and Win Min 2007. Assessing Burma’s Ceasefire Accords. Policy Studies, 39. Washington, DC: East-­West Center.

6 DEMOCRACY AND HUMAN RIGHTS In the shadow of Myanmar’s national security state Morten B Pedersen

Introduction The landslide victory of the National League for Democracy (NLD) in the 2015 elections and subsequent transfer of power to Myanmar’s first freely and fairly elected government in more than half a century in 2016 punctuated one of the most promising democratic breakthroughs anywhere in the world in recent decades. Myanmar, however, remains a limited democracy and establishing genuinely democratic institutions (procedural democracy) that protect human rights under the rule of law (substantive democracy) presents a difficult challenge. This chapter places recent political developments in a historical context, assesses the state of democracy and human rights in the country as the NLD government nears the completion of its first five-­year term in office, and considers the challenges to further democratisation. The argument is necessarily pitched at a general level but hopefully provides a useful framework for deeper analysis and understanding of particular aspects.

Myanmar under military rule: building the national security state The first constitution of independent Myanmar (then Burma) established a parliamentary democracy. The development of the country’s embryonic democratic institutions, however, was disrupted by the outbreak of civil war immediately upon independence in 1948, which prompted a rapid expansion of the military’s role in government and eventual capture of power (Callahan 2003). Like their contemporaries in South America and elsewhere, Myanmar’s military leaders came to believe that only the military had the discipline and patriotism required to safeguard the union against the grave internal and external threats facing it. Therefore, they pushed aside the ineffectual parliamentary government and took full control of the

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country, at first temporarily under a military caretaker government (1958–60) but then more enduringly with the 1962 coup. Over the next five decades, early hopes for freedom and equality gave way to the harsh realities of a national security state dominated by the military and oriented primarily towards national security goals. The military maintained direct or indirect control of all three branches of government, as well as the civil service and key parts of the economy (for details, see Taylor 2009 – but note that this ‘classic’ account of Myanmar’s political evolution develops a somewhat different conceptual model of military politics than the one offered here). It also monopolised the media and established a host of mass organisations that populated the space normally filled by civil society. Through these institutions, successive military governments were able to mobilise a large proportion of the population and the country’s resources in support of their national security objectives while pre-­empting the emergence of rival power centres. Any opposition to the centralising – and supposedly unifying – project of the national security state was harshly dealt with by the security forces, which at times seemed to view the entire population as potential enemies. Yet, Myanmar’s military leaders never saw themselves as natural rulers. Rather, their self-­image was that of ‘guardians’ of the state, which step in at times of crisis (Pedersen 2004). The national security state, thus, always had within it two parallel and seemingly contradictory tendencies towards short-­term militarisation and long­term civilianisation of government. The two have blended over time into what international relations scholars will recognise as a domestic variant of ‘defensive realism’, which is concerned, primarily, not with maximising power but with optimising security (as perceived and practised by the military). The military first sought to extricate itself from direct rule in 1974 by transferring power from the Revolutionary Council to the Burma Socialist Program Party (BSPP) under a new socialist constitution (Nakanishi 2013). This semi-­ civilian system was abandoned in the face of the 1988 popular uprising, which prompted a second coup and renewed efforts to shore up political stability (Maung Maung 1999). However, the new junta, the State, Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC), immediately pledged to restore civilian rule and set about establishing the conditions for what they would later come to refer to as ‘disciplined democracy’ (Pedersen 2008, chs 2–4). The second iteration of the national security state dragged out for more than 20 years, while the SLORC – and later its successor, the State, Peace and Development Council (SPDC) – worked to build a stronger armed forces, consolidate control of the cities as well as the war-­ravaged borderlands, and draft a new constitution that guaranteed the military a continuing, balancing role in the future democracy (Maung Aung Myoe 2014). Yet, once the constitution was completed in 2008 and the military leadership felt confident that it was back in control, it set up a new party, the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP), led by retired military officers and proceeded to organise multiparty elections in 2010 before finally transferring power to the winning party in 2011. The main opposition party,

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the NLD, whose leader Aung San Suu Kyi had been under house arrest for long periods since 1989 and was released only after the poll, boycotted the elections, thus handing the USDP an easy victory.

Thein Sein and the USDP: reforming the national security state Leading into the 2010 elections, most observers dismissed the transition as a purely cosmetic move to shore up the existing regime and unlikely, therefore, to result in significant change (for a dissenting view, see Pedersen 2011). This, at first, seemed to be confirmed when the prime minister of the previous military government, former General Thein Sein, was elected as president and subsequently appointed a cabinet made up almost entirely of senior ex-­military officers. Yet, true to its promises (and in line with the doctrine of the national security state), the new USDP government soon launched a suite of major reforms aimed at promoting national reconciliation and socio-­economic development, and reintegrating Myanmar into the international community (Egreteau 2016; Soe Thane 2017; Thant Myint-­U 2020). After 50 years of insular, security-­oriented military rule, the military-­as-an-­ institution stepped away from many areas of government, facilitating a broad shift towards more open and people-­oriented governance (Pedersen 2014). This was accompanied by a dramatic expansion of political freedoms, which prompted a virtual explosion in political debate and contestation, much of it driven by a reinvigorated civil society, including flourishing private and social media. Highly significantly, President Thein Sein oversaw the release of almost all of the country’s 1,000 plus political prisoners, including Aung San Suu Kyi, and subsequently made a deal with the opposition leader, which allowed her party to return to mainstream politics. After a mini-­landslide victory in the 2012 by-­elections, Aung San Suu Kyi and 42 of her colleagues in the NLD thus took seats in parliament where they came to play an active role as a loyal opposition and were given significant influence despite constituting a relatively small minority of MPs. Aung San Suu Kyi herself was appointed Chair of the Committee of Rule of Law and Tranquillity. Over time, Thein Sein and the USDP government became subject to growing criticism, partly over their refusal to support constitutional amendments that would allow further democratisation, partly over their pandering to extremist Buddhist groups that worked to exclude Muslims from the new democratic polity. Yet, they consolidated their legacy as a reformist government by eventually overseeing the country’s first free and fair elections in November 2015 and peacefully ceding power to their long-­standing nemeses, Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD, who won an absolute majority in the new parliament. The military proper, too, accepted this turn of events and allowed the democratic transition to proceed, seemingly confident that the ‘disciplining’ elements of the 2008 constitution would be sufficient to maintain stability and safeguard national security.

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Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: wrestling with the national security state The dominant victory of the NLD in the 2015 elections gave the new government a resounding mandate for change, and effectively brought non-­security policymaking under civilian, democratic control. Yet, to those who expected the former opposition party to aggressively push for further democratic reform and improvements in human rights, its first four years in office were disappointing. Seemingly content to finally be in power, the NLD leadership focused on governing rather than pursuing longer-­term, democratic institution building. Recognising that any attempt to amend the constitution against the will of the military would be highly destabilising, the NLD sought to end the country’s long­running armed conflicts and build trust with the military as a precondition for further constitutional change. It was not until its fourth year in office, in 2019, that the party initiated a process within parliament to consider constitutional amendments – and even then, this seemed to be more about bolstering its democratic credentials ahead of the 2020 elections than any serious attempt to overcome military resistance. Notably, none of this appeared to have been negotiated with the military leadership beforehand. More surprisingly, the NLD did little to empower the embryonic democratic institutions sanctioned by the existing constitution or cultivate a broader democratic culture. After taking office in 2016, Aung San Suu Kyi immediately moved to centralise power in her own hands, including by limiting debate within her own party and disciplining the parliament, which during the Thein Sein government had played an often vigorous role in overseeing and balancing the power of the executive but was now exhorted to follow its lead. The new government made no serious attempt to fundamentally reform the judiciary; and although some marginal relaxations of the legal constraints on civil liberties were initially welcomed, they were effectively cancelled out by a more aggressive application of the new laws to squash criticism of the government as well as the military (Human Rights Watch 2019). In fact, NLD leaders often appeared outright dismissive of civil society and the media (Prasse-­Freeman 2016), which they seemed to feel lacked democratic legitimacy. While some of this may have been motivated by an understandable concern with building a unified front for reform in a country which historically has suffered from highly fractious politics, it came at the expense of developing and strengthening new democratic institutions and practices. Most disappointingly to many democracy and human rights activists, Aung San Suu Kyi herself, long celebrated as a moral icon, almost entirely failed to promote any vision of a new kind of politics. There was no insistence that the security agencies respect and protect the people, and no rousing calls for the country’s diverse ethnic and religious communities to come together and build a more inclusive national identity. On the contrary, she often seemed to side with conservative forces – whether in the military, the justice system or the civil service – pleading with people to ‘be patient’ rather than rally them to push for change. This came out

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most dramatically when she personally travelled to The Hague in December 2019 to defend the Myanmar state – and by inclusion, the military – against international charges of genocide. Rather than deliver change, she tended to urge people to create their own change, something that some found insulting in a country where ordinary people had long been, and generally remained, disempowered by an overbearing state. The situation was not all bad. The NLD government launched a number of important new initiatives, for example, to combat corruption and weaken military control of the civil service; and there was a notable reduction in fear of the state in many parts of the country. Despite occasional rumours of a coup, the military largely respected its own constitution and did little to interfere in everyday civilian policymaking. Yet, at the time of writing – with the 2020 elections looming on the horizon – although civilian rule appears relatively consolidated, Myanmar’s new democracy remains partial, shallow and of low quality.

Partial democracy  The 2008 constitution, which remains unamended, was drawn up under the tutelage of the military for the specific purpose of ensuring that the transfer of power to a civilian government would not threaten the military’s national, corporate or personal interests and reflects the authoritarian mindset of its drafters, notably an insistence on centralised power to counter perceived centrifugal forces in society (Pedersen 2011). As such, it has helped create the confidence necessary within the military hierarchy to allow liberalisation, yet imposes fundamental limitations on democracy. Although the charter formally establishes a multiparty democracy with regular elections and associated civil and political rights, key elements of a democratic system are lacking. Unelected, active military officers wield significant executive and legislative influence; the military itself remains largely outside civilian control; and all democratic rights are subject to laws enacted for ‘national security’ and ‘the prevalence of law and order’. Similarly, while the constitution nominally sets up a federal structure of government with a bicameral parliament and 14 states/ divisions of equal status – each with its own executive, legislature and judiciary – actual decentralisation of power is limited. Chief ministers of the states/divisions are appointed by and subject to the will of the president, and local governance powers and budgets are highly restricted (Nixon et al. 2013). These shortcomings are compounded by the rules for amending the constitution, which effectively gives the military veto power over any future changes.

Shallow democracy  While there is today broad, rhetorical commitment to the ideology of democracy – even within the military – and significant progress has been made also on putting in place key democratic institutions, the deeper political culture has proven highly resistant to change. The USDP and NLD governments have both evinced

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d­ eep-­seated tensions between their formal commitment to openness and persistent authoritarian mindsets, notably in their relations with the media and civil society. While this was perhaps to be expected from an administration led by ex-­ generals, many have been dismayed to witness very similar – or even stronger – centralising behaviour under the new leadership of Aung San Suu Kyi and a party that counts scores of ex-­political prisoners among its MPs. However, as recent scholarship shows, understandings of democracy and the rule of law among members of Myanmar’s democratic elite may not be all that different from their military nemeses. In investigating different perceptions of democracy in Myanmar, for example, Wells (2016) found that many democracy activists share with the military an emphasis on strong leadership, unity and fulfilment of obligations (as opposed to democratic institutions, pluralism and rights); only they want to ‘replace the [supposedly] self-­interested dictators of the military era with the self­sacrificing and committed leadership of the opposition’. Similarly, Cheesman (2014) observes that Aung San Suu Kyi in dealing with key human rights issues has tended to echo the military’s understanding, that ‘the rule of law is achieved through obedience, rather than through substantive practices associated with democratic values’. Such illiberal sentiments, as much as military obstruction, may explain why the new, elected government has failed to undertake deeper democratic reform.

Low quality democracy  In addition to these legal and cultural limitations – and partly as a consequence of them – Myanmar’s embryonic democracy has a long way to go on protecting basic human rights. Despite significant improvements to previous highly repressive laws, the current body of Myanmar law continues to place an undue emphasis on state security over human security. New laws on political association, assembly and speech still curtail individual freedom in favour of the state’s interest in order and stability. Similarly, new laws on land and foreign investment remain biased towards the state’s quest for economic development, often at the expense of local communities (McCarthy 2018). The perceived unjustness of many current laws is compounded by the ability of powerful actors to manipulate them. Government and military authorities, as well as well-­connected businessmen, continue to abuse the law to get what they want, whether this is to silence critics or expropriate land from its rightful owners (Mark 2016). At the same time, these same groups are largely immune to prosecution for rights abuses. This problem is particularly acute in areas of continuing armed conflict where the military essentially operates outside of the law and the use of excessive force and mistreatment of civilians remain commonplace (Human Rights Council 2018). However, even in peaceful areas, citizens often struggle to assert their internationally recognised human rights. More often than not, those who most need the protection of the law lack the knowledge and resources needed to access it, or simply do not trust the legal system to work for them (MyJustice 2018).

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Conclusion: future challenges The peaceful transfer of government office to the former main opposition party in 2016 was a major waypoint of democratisation and significant room exists for deepening democracy even within the legal constraints of the 2008 constitution and broader military political power. Yet, even a cursory analysis of the political, institutional and structural conditions for further democratisation reveals the daunting challenges facing the country’s democrats, and in particular those committed to a substantive, liberal democracy.

Political conditions  Comparative studies of the politics of democratic transitions direct our attention to the critical role of decision makers – and especially the importance of pacts between old and new elites that satisfy the vital interests of all sides. In Myanmar, this goes to the heart of the national security state. Although both senior and lower level military officers today speak openly about democracy as the preferred system of government, they harbour deep, historically rooted distrust of civilian politicians and what they derogatively refer to as ‘party politics’. Thus, they firmly believe that military supervision of the elected government is needed to safeguard national interests at least for a transitional period. This was relatively unproblematic during the initial phase of reform due to the dominance of retired generals in the Thein Sein administration who enjoyed the trust of their former colleagues in the military and, in turn, respected the military’s ‘red lines’. Yet, since the transition to an NLD-­led administration (and parliament), this organic relationship between the government and the military has been disrupted, creating significant tensions, especially over security issues (Selth 2017). Any future attempt to openly challenge the reserve powers of the military – which are central to the implicit pact underlying the ongoing transition – would seriously test the durability of the existing political basis for reform including its formal, constitutional and informal elements. This is something that the NLD has so far, largely, avoided but must eventually achieve to build a fuller, deeper and higher quality democracy. The key for the NLD – and any future elected government – to unlocking the national security state is to negotiate an end to the country’s long-­standing armed conflicts, which motivated the establishment of that state in the first place. Yet, despite nearly a decade of negotiations to conclude a nationwide ceasefire agreement and agree on a wider peace accord, this all-­important goal still seems a long way off. Meanwhile, the Rohingya crisis has greatly heightened security fears among the military and the general population alike, and has in fact bolstered the reputation of the military among many Myanmar citizens who now seem to appreciate the combination of democratic and military rule (David and Holiday 2018). With condemnation of its treatment of the Rohingya bearing down on Myanmar from both the international community and international Jihadist groups, the prospect of the military agreeing to further democratisation thus seems significantly lower today than it did at the start of reform.

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Institutional conditions While committed leaders may be able to establish basic democratic institutions, the failure of many recent democratic transitions to significantly improve human rights demonstrates the importance of the broader institutional context. This dimension has tended to be overshadowed in Myanmar politics and scholarship alike by a long-­standing focus on ending military rule (and an often rather naive belief in the purifying power of democracy). However, as the past four years of civilian, elected government have clearly demonstrated, institutional deficiencies present another fundamental obstacle to improving governance and human rights outcomes. Five decades of top-­down military rule, low prioritisation of education and international isolation have dramatically reduced the capacity of Myanmar’s once proud civil service to devise and implement good policy (Su Mon Thazin Aung and Arnold 2018). Although there are of course many individual exceptions – and indeed some exceptional individuals – the majority of civil servants lack appropriate education, training and experience, and are often fearful of taking the initiative. There are also major problems with corruption, which is pervasive at all levels of the state, reflecting widespread disillusionment with public service jobs and low wages. The NLD administration has taken some steps to strengthen leadership, streamline procedures and cajole civil servants to recommit to public service. However, the pool of new talent is limited and changing the underlying institutional culture and behaviour patterns is a long-­term challenge. Thus, the civilian, elected government – like its military predecessors – has struggled to ensure that new policies are properly implemented and results are felt on the ground. This has been particularly challenging within policy areas where it shares power with the military, requiring an extra layer of negotiations, as well as in conflict-­affected areas where central government authorities suffer from a lack of legitimacy, if indeed they have access at all. The weakness of the judicial system is a particular concern. The judiciary is the weakest link in the democratic separation of powers, reflecting its long-­standing politicisation under military rule, as well as the lack of any serious effort by either the USDP or NLD government to reform it. Although judicial independence is formally provided for in the constitution, it is undermined in practice by executive control of the appointments of higher-­level judges, as well as insufficient security of tenure (ICJ 2014). Political interference in court cases has declined significantly but is not uncommon – in particular in cases involving military or government interests – and military personnel are not subject to civilian courts at all but have their own separate system of courts martial. This coupled with the widespread corruption allows many court rulings to be bought, meaning that citizens are mostly denied the possibility of seeking protection and redress from violations of their human rights or other entitlements (Cheesman 2015). An effective system of rule of law requires that existing laws serve the purpose of justice; that they are applied equally to all, including those in power; and that those whose rights are abused are able to access the justice system. None of these conditions applies in Myanmar today.

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Meanwhile, it must be recognised that the political parties and civil society organisations driving the new reform agenda have internal limitations too. Most if not all political parties, including the NLD, have a strongly hierarchical structure with decision making centralised at the top level and communicated downwards. There is little role for local party chapters beyond helping identify local candidates for elections, and links with local constituencies are weak (Kempel et al. 2015). The parties’ ability to aggregate and articulate citizens’ interests before the state is therefore very limited. They are also generally weak in engaging and involving citizens – including their own members – in democratic participation. Myanmar’s civil society organisations are similarly dominated by members of the narrow, but growing, educated middle class. This is especially the case for the more politically oriented organisations, including the media. They represent a counter-­ elite – and often politicians-­in-waiting – rather than a genuine grassroots response (although this of course does not preclude them from genuinely working to promote the interests of local communities). The Sangha and the churches are more genuinely mass-­based organisations; but the former has played a distinctly ambiguous role in the reform process due to its part in the rise of extremist Buddhist nationalism and the latter lacks national political influence. Most religious leaders are active mainly in humanitarian work.

Structural conditions Underlying the institutional deficiencies of the Myanmar state and society are a number of deeper structural factors even less amenable to negotiation and reform, including the country’s lack of historical experience with democracy, deep ethnic divisions, economic underdevelopment and its location in a region where democracy has yet to gain a strong foothold. Empirically, countries that have prior – and especially recent – experience with democracy tend to democratise faster and more thoroughly. This is likely because elements of democratic culture and behaviour have survived alongside later authoritarian structures. Myanmar has had no such head start. Its prior experience with democracy in the 1950s was not only short-­lived and shallow, but also a long time ago. Anyone who was politically aware and active in the period of parliamentary democracy is at least 70 years old today. With the partial exception of exiles who have spent significant parts of their lives abroad, any knowledge of democracy is therefore theoretical only and contrasts sharply with a lifetime of practical experience of highly authoritarian, militarised structures. This invariably means that it will take time for practice to catch up with the form of Myanmar’s new democratic institutions. The challenges arising from the absence of democratic roots are compounded by the difficulty of instituting a system of majority rule in a country which has several major ethnic minority groups with long-­standing aspirations for self-­determination and self-­expression. While comparative scholars disagree as to whether ethnic diversity is inherently detrimental to the success of democratic government, Myanmar faces a steep challenge in overcoming the deep-­rooted divisions of the past. The

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incessant wars since independence have caused a hardening of ethnic identities, which today permeate all areas of politics. Most political parties have ethnic designations, and civil society groups too mostly form along ethnic lines. This is problematic because – even more so than other socio-­political cleavages – ethno-­religious identity tends to divide groups deeply, making moderation and compromise difficult. Even if the different ethnic elites could find a way to work together, the brutality of the military’s decades-­long counter-­insurgency operations – which have relied primarily on violence rather than winning hearts and minds – has left deep scars of enmity and distrust of state institutions among minority communities. Many people in Myanmar’s borderlands simply do not feel part of the Union of Myanmar. This greatly complicates efforts to strengthen state institutions and deliver substantive benefits of democratic government to these communities. The worsening of religious conflict between Buddhist and Muslim communities since the outbreak of communal violence in Rakhine State in 2012 has added a further and even harsher dimension to this problem since it overlaps with a deep-­rooted xenophobic element of Burman culture. Thus, while most Burman do see, for example, the Shan, Karen and Rakhine as legitimate members of the Myanmar polity, many consider the majority of Muslims to be foreigners and a potential threat to both race and religion (Ware and Laoutides 2018). Similar attitudes apply, although with less vehemence, to other citizens of Chinese or South Asian origin, although the main concern here is less about race and religion than it is economic exploitation. Economically, too, Myanmar would appear a poor candidate for democracy. Despite significant economic growth in recent years, it remains one of the poorest countries in Asia. This may not be an obstacle to democratisation per se, but it does make it much harder for democracy to thrive, mostly due to its negative implications for political participation. Faced with grinding poverty, people naturally withdraw into the household to address pressing needs. They have neither the time nor resources to take an active interest in public affairs. This is confirmed by recent national surveys, which show that traditional, ‘survival’ values are far more prevalent in Myanmar than the modern, ‘self-­expression’ values normally associated with democratic progress (Asia Foundation 2014; Welsh and Kai-­Ping Huang 2016). Although the recent growth in communications, media and civil society activity is very positive, it is still primarily an urban, middle-­class phenomenon. The large majority of Myanmar people remains isolated from the country’s new democratic politics; they participate at most through their vote on elections day and have little knowledge about the basic structure and functions of government beyond the local level. Even if fully implemented, a system of one citizen-­one vote would leave large segments of the population effectively unable to make meaningful demands on the government because they lack the political resources to do so. The dangers in this are all too evident in the failure of elites on all sides to protect the interests of many of the most vulnerable groups in the country, including farmers, ethno-­religious minorities and women. The country’s low economic development level also makes it harder to maintain moderate politics. Poverty is generally associated with higher levels of conflict over the distribution of scarce resources. Moreover, it increases the risk that demagogues

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can successfully mobilise people against outgroups such as ethnic or religious minorities. These phenomena are currently playing out with particular force in Rakhine State where democratisation has been accompanied by an escalation in long-­ standing communal conflict between Buddhist and Muslim communities. However, it could easily become a broader problem if the NLD government’s economic reform programme fails to bring sufficient benefits quickly and equally. The nightmare scenario would be a future conflation of extremist, Burman-­Buddhist nationalism and the deep socio-­economic grievances of the large disenfranchised underclass, which could easily overwhelm the country’s embryonic democratic institutions. Finally, it is important to consider the political systems of Myanmar’s regional neighbours. While much attention has been paid recently to the democratising impact of the country’s increased cooperation with western countries and international organisations, the more diffuse effects of regional contagion are likely to matter more in the long run, after the initial excitement about the transition from military rule evaporates. Myanmar’s neighbours are not only not committed to exporting political freedom, rule of law and human rights; the majority is in fact a model of something far less appealing. As such, they provide rich examples of alternative paths to modernity should key Myanmar elites come to view democracy as threatening to their interests. None of this is to suggest that Myanmar’s limited democracy is doomed. However, it is crucial to recognise that rather than simply undergoing a transition from military to democratic rule, the country is in fact in the midst of several simultaneous transformations, which include also shifts from war to peace, state capitalism to a liberal market economy, and towards greater integration into the global community and economy. Unlike recent transitions in the Middle East and North Africa, the reform process in Myanmar was initiated by the previous military government from a position of strength and remains carefully managed. Indeed, the military leadership does not claim that the new system is democratic, but rather that they are effecting a gradual transition to democracy, the scope and speed of which will depend on broader social conditions. The constitutional limits currently placed on Myanmar’s embryonic democratic institutions are not necessarily detrimental to the country’s long-­term political development, as they ensure that reforms remain in line with the realities of power in the country and thus help maintain stability in a period of otherwise great flux and uncertainty. However, they do hamper efforts to deal with deep-­rooted governance problems and issues of injustice, and risk becoming an entrenched feature of the new political system. As in other emerging democracies, the fundamental challenge in Myanmar is how to move from procedural to a more substantive democracy (even as the former remains a work in progress). This is, to borrow from Carothers (2006), essentially an issue of ‘representation’ – i.e. of establishing a government that is not merely elected by the people but actually serves the people. Representation, in turn, requires an interconnected set of institutions and socio-­political conditions, including a citizenry capable of expressing its interests, a state capable of meaningfully responding to citizens’ needs,

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and organisations capable of effectively connecting citizens and the state. To develop those will take time, effort and probably quite a bit of luck.

References Asia Foundation 2014. Myanmar 2014: Civic Knowledge and Values in a Changing Society. San Fransisco, CA: Asia Foundation. Callahan, Mary 2003. Making Enemies: War and State Building in Burma. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Carothers, Thomas 2006. Confronting the Weakest Link: Aiding Political Parties in New Democracies. Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. Cheesman, Nick 2014. ‘What does the rule of law have to do with democratization in Myanmar?’ Southeast Asia Research 22(2): 213–32. Cheesman, Nick 2015. Opposing the Rule of Law: How Myanmar’s Courts Make Law and Order. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. David, Roman and Ian Holiday 2018. Liberalism and Democracy in Myanmar. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Egreteau, Renaud 2016. Caretaking Democratization: The Military and Political Change in Myanmar. London: Hurst and Co. Human Rights Council 2018. Report of the Independent International Fact-­Finding Mission on Myanmar. A/HRC/39/64 (12 Sep). Geneva: OHCHR. Human Rights Watch 2019. Dashed Hopes: The Criminalization of Peaceful Expression in Myanmar. New York: Human Rights Watch. ICJ (International Commission of Jurists) 2014. Myanmar: Country Profile. Geneva: ICJ. Kempel, Susanne, Chan Myawe Aung Sun and Aung Tun. 2015. Myanmar Political Parties at a Time of Transition. Report prepared for Pyo Pin. Yangon. McCarthy, Stephen 2018. ‘Rule of law expedited: land title reform and justice in Burma (Myanmar)’. Asian Studies Review 42(2): 229–46. Mark, SiuSue 2016. ‘Are the odds of justice “stacked” against them? Challenges and opportunities for securing land claims by smallholder farmers in Myanmar’. Critical Asian Studies 48(3): 443–60. Maung Aung Myoe 2014. ‘The soldier and the state: the Tatmadaw and political liberalization in Myanmar since 2011’. Southeast Asia Research 22(2): 1–16. Maung Maung 1999. The 1988 Uprising in Burma. New Haven, CT: Yale University Southeast Asia Studies. MyJustice 2018. Searching for Justice in the Law: Understanding Access to Justice in Myanmar. London: British Council. Nakanishi, Yoshihiro 2013. Strong Soldiers, Failed Revolution: The State and Military in Burma, 1962–88. Singapore: NUS Press. Nixon, Hamish, Cindy Joelene, Kyi Pyar Chit Saw, Thet Aung Lynn and Matthew Arnold 2013. State and Region Governments in Myanmar. San Francisco, CA: The Asia Foundation. Pedersen, Morten B 2004. ‘The world according to Burma’s military rulers’. In David Mathieson and Ron J May (eds) The Illusion of Progress: The Political Economy of Reform in Burma/Myanmar. Adelaide, SA: Crawford House. Pedersen, Morten B 2008. Promoting Human Rights in Burma: A Critique of Western Sanctions Policy. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Pedersen, Morten B 2011. ‘The politics of transition in Burma: opportunities for change and options for democrats’. Critical Asian Studies 43(1): 49–68.

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Pedersen, Morten B 2014. ‘Myanmar’s democratic opening: the process and prospects of reform’. In Nick Cheesman, Nicholas Farrelly and Trevor Wilson (eds) Debating Democratization in Myanmar. Singapore: ISEAS, 19–42. Prasse-­Freeman, Elliott 2016. ‘The new Burma is starting to look too much like the old Burma’. Foreign Policy, 28 June. Available from: https://foreignpolicy.com/2016/06/28/the-­newburma-­is-starting-­to-look-­too-much-­like-the-­old-burma/, accessed 5 February 2020. Selth, Andrew 2017. ‘All going according to plan: the armed forces and government in Myanmar’. Regional Outlook Paper. Brisbane, QLD: Griffith Asia Institute. Soe Thane 2017. Myanmar’s Transition & U Thein Sein: An Insider’s Account. Yangon: Tun Foundation. Su Mon Thazin Aung and Matthew Arnold 2018. Managing Change: Executive Policymaking in Myanmar. San Francisco, CA: The Asia Foundation. Taylor, Robert H 2009. The State in Myanmar. Singapore: NUS Press. Thant Myint-­U 2020. The Hidden History of Burma: Race, Capitalism, and the Crisis of Democracy in the 21st Century. New York: W. W. Norton & Company. Ware, Anthony and Costas Laoutides 2018. Myanmar’s ‘Rohingya’ Conflict. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wells, Tamas 2016. ‘Making sense of reactions to communal violence in Myanmar’. In Nick Cheesman and Nicholas Farrelly (eds) Conflict in Myanmar: War, Politics, Religion. Singapore: ISEAS, 245–60. Welsh, Bridget and Kai-­Ping Huang 2016. Myanmar’s Political Aspirations & Perceptions 2015. Asian Barometer Survey Report. Taipei: Center for East Asia Democratic Studies, National Taiwan University.

7 FOREIGN POLICY AND INTERNATIONAL ENGAGEMENT Strategic realities, domestic priorities Renaud Egreteau

Introduction Myanmar’s foreign policy approach and content have both undergone striking transformations since independence was won in 1948. In contexts of both Cold War and post-­Cold War international politics, the country has fluctuated between phases of positive neutrality, self-­imposed isolationism and passive alignment towards a powerful neighbouring power, China (Steinberg 2018). Yet, as this chapter shows, there have also been remarkable elements of continuity in the shaping of Myanmar’s post-­colonial relations and engagement with Asia and the world. Regardless of the nature of its political regime, independent Myanmar has long had to – and continues to – cope with a series of commanding geostrategic challenges. Sandwiched between two giant powers, India and China, the country offers a geographical gateway to and from continental Southeast Asia. It also boasts a 2,000 km-­long coastline along the Indian Ocean, through which a large part of the world’s seaborne commerce has long transited. While this geopolitical situation has presented considerable opportunities for trade and development, it has also contributed to persistent concerns among Myanmar’s post-­independence elites over the potential sway neighbouring states and global powers may seek to gain in a country known for its abundance of under-­exploited natural resources, such as gems, hydrocarbons and timber (Haacke 2006; Thant Myint-­U 2012; Lintner 2015). A second aspect of continuity relates to Myanmar’s post-­colonial politics, epitomised by a failed process of nation building, a protracted civil war and continuing military intervention. The country’s domestic upheavals, their international and trans-­border ramifications, and the persistent dominance of the armed forces over policymaking have had a deep impact on foreign policy formulation, notwithstanding the nature of the political system prevailing in Yangon, or from 2005, in

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Naypyitaw (Egreteau and Jagan 2013). Despite a controlled transition from direct military rule to a semi-­civilian administration initiated with the adoption of the 2008 constitution, these intertwined historical, geostrategic and political factors continue to weigh heavily in the definition, and implementation, of Myanmar’s foreign policy in the post-­junta context of the 2010s and 2020s.

A post-­independence decade of active neutralism At first not coherently defined but rather grounded on the activism and individual stance developed by a handful of political leaders, Myanmar’s early post-­ independence posture towards the world was structured around three core pillars. Neutrality, non-­alignment in the emerging context of the Cold War, and a proactive international solidarity among recently decolonised nations of Asia and Africa, were the cornerstones of the country’s early foreign policy (Johnstone 1963; Liang 1990). Perceptive, English-­speaking and media-­savvy diplomats and politicians quickly helped bolster the country’s reputation abroad. All promoted the essence of this multifaceted diplomacy through frequent trips and active participation in milestone international gatherings, such as the Bandung Conference (1955). In particular, Myanmar’s first Prime Minister, U Nu (1907–95) guided the country on a socialist-­inspired development path and ‘middle-­way’ diplomacy. A close friend to India’s Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, he was a highly regarded orator and acclaimed intellectual. He grounded his foreign policy on international goodwill and a form of ‘positive neutrality’ that he considered essential to both national interests and world peace (Maung Maung 1956: 144; Liang 1990: 63). Other state leaders also sought to assert post-­independence Myanmar as a driving force behind the growing Asian Solidarity movement of the 1950s. Ba Swe (1915–87), who succeeded U Nu as prime minister between 1956 and 1957, chaired the Asian Socialist Conference, a platform that rallied movements from Asia’s political Left in the first post-­war decade. Likewise, Kyaw Nyein (1915–86), successively foreign minister and deputy premier in the mid-­1950s, defended the idea of a diplomatic ‘Third Force’ denouncing imperialism, authoritarianism and other forms of state-­led oppression worldwide (Trager 1956). On his side, U Thant, U Nu’s personal secretary in the early 1950s, proved an astute diplomat in New York, where he was sent in 1957 as Myanmar’s representative to the United Nations (UN), before his nomination as the organisation’s secretary general in 1961. With this high-­profile diplomacy and charismatic leadership, Myanmar soon acquired prestige on the world stage and became a leading voice among developing countries in the context of the Cold War. It helped the country (19 million citizens in the mid-­1950s) resist the thrust of its two emerging neighbours, China (400 million) and India (350 million). It also allowed for the leveraging of the shadowy influence of the two superpowers, the United States and the Soviet Union (Steinberg and Fan 2012; Bhatia 2015; Clymer 2015). As an illustration of its neutral stance, Myanmar refused to join defence-­related international organisations, such as the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO, an organisation founded in

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1954), or the British Commonwealth. Nevertheless in 1952 it did join the Colombo Plan to benefit from the financial and developmental assistance of the wealthiest states in the London-­led Commonwealth. The other feature of Myanmar’s early foreign policymaking was the rising influence of military circles over policy formulation and the leverage over certain diplomatic decisions that the armed forces gradually gained in the late 1950s (Egreteau and Jagan 2013: 50–4). Not long after independence, the gap had widened between civilian politicians – partisans of active neutralism – and the Tatmadaw officer corps rather willing to strengthen state defence capacity through increased security cooperation and weapons deals negotiated with global military powers. Increasingly sophisticated and better-­equipped ethnic and communist insurgencies had indeed found growing sympathies across borders in Yunnan, India, Thailand, and even East Pakistan (Lintner 1999). This made Myanmar more vulnerable to regional strategic tensions and the Cold War bipolarization, while shaping the Tatmadaw’s early threat perceptions and views of the world.

Myanmar under military rule: from hermit nation to pariah state While the 1950s brought prestige and international recognition to Myanmar, the following three decades plunged the country into gradual diplomatic seclusion and economic autarchy. Under military rule, Myanmar withdrew from the world in successive phases. A first, 18-month-­long caretaker administration led by the armed forces (1958–60) did not much alter the country’s neutralist credo though (Liang 1990: 22). Purported to end factionalism and allegedly avoid the implosion of the union in front of renewed ethnic and communist strife, General Ne Win’s caretaker government broadened ties with both superpowers and refused to take sides in the 1959 Tibetan crisis and the emerging Sino-­Indian confrontation. The country returned to civilian rule in April 1960, but the armed forces retook power through a full-­fledged coup d’état staged on 2 March 1962. The new junta – or Revolutionary Council, headed again by Ne Win – still did not depart much from the official foreign policy orientation of its predecessors. Throughout the 1960s, the diplomatic language used by Ne Win and his representatives abroad – many retired army officers had been appointed ambassadors in Myanmar’s thirty-­odd embassies across the globe – continued to be grounded on a policy of neutralism and non-­ alignment. In the midst of the Cold War, the country’s geostrategic parameters had indeed not dramatically evolved. However, as his socialist-­inspired revolution progressively failed to bring about massive developmental change in the 1970s, Ne Win opted for a steady withdrawal of Myanmar from regional and world politics. This strategy was deemed the most appropriate to respond to rising domestic and external threats to the socialist revolution and its xenophobic undercurrents. Already, foreign businesses and educational institutions had been nationalised in the early 1960s. This had led to the disruptive departure from Myanmar of Indian, Chinese and Anglo-­Burmese communities of merchants, bankers, lawyers, and civil servants. Teaching of English and foreign

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languages came to be restricted. The country even exited the Non-­Aligned movement in 1979. As coined by some observers of the time, a ‘bamboo curtain’ gradually shut the ‘hermit nation’ off the global stage (Steinberg 1981). The military leadership pursued the cultivation of only a handful of key strategic concerns: deflecting immediate threats posed by an assertive Chinese neighbour, keeping a few channels open for military equipment acquisition (with Israel and a few East European states in particular), and maintaining the vital economic assistance provided by Japan. State-­sponsored isolationism was nonetheless construed as a flexible ideological tool by Ne Win, who himself travelled relentlessly to satisfy his personal appetite for foreign hobbies and medical check-­ups in Europe, while maintaining a tight grip on the freedom of movement of ordinary Myanmar citizens. More than two decades of chauvinistic policies under the socialist rule also led to the fusion of foreign, security and state policymaking into military hands, a pattern that would not evolve after the demise of Ne Win in 1988. Likewise, these years under Ne Win’s inward-­looking regime shaped the security perceptions and views of the world of the next generation of military leaders that would succeed the socialist administration. The crisis of 1988 proved a watershed in Myanmar’s interactions with the outside world. The new junta dropped Ne Win’s insular type of collectivist socialism. Opting for an economic model of state-­led capitalism, Myanmar under the State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC) opened up to its neighbours while seeking to liberalise its domestic market and attract foreign investment. China and several roaring economies of Southeast Asia such as Singapore, Malaysia and Thailand, were prompt to secure trade and investment opportunities with SLORC in the early 1990s (Maung Aung Myoe 2011: Egreteau and Li 2018). After a brief suspension of aid following the repression of the popular revolt of August 1988, Japan resumed its development cooperation with Myanmar through lavish investment into domestic infrastructure and capacity-­building programmes. Relations with India also improved soon after New Delhi dropped its vocal pro-­democracy stance in 1993 (Egreteau 2011). After years of negotiations, Myanmar eventually joined the Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN) in 1997. Diplomatic self-­confidence in the region amidst an era of shared ‘Asian Values’ had encouraged the organisation to overlook criticism from its western partners, increasingly uneasy with ASEAN’s acceptance of a military-­led regime lambasted on the global stage for its poor human rights records (Roberts 2010). New narratives on emerging strategic and commercial rivalries between India, China and other regional or even global powers in and around Myanmar thrived (Malik 1997; Thant Myint-­U 2012; Lintner 2015). While Myanmar’s neighbours and regional powers proved willing to engage with the post-­Ne Win military regime, the rest of the international community cast a very different eye on the country after the crackdown of the 1988 uprising and the refusal of SLORC to honour the results of the general elections held on 27 May 1990. A new charismatic figure had emerged in the midst of the popular revolt – an

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iconic personality that, for the following two-­and-a-­half decades, would prove a formidable challenger to military rule. Aung San Suu Kyi, daughter of Myanmar’s independence hero Aung San (1915–47), took the lead of the mass protests upon her return in 1988 from the United Kingdom. She became Secretary General of the National League for Democracy (NLD) and, while under house arrest, steered the party into the landslide electoral victory of 1990. Soon portrayed as a world icon of democracy, she was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991. She captured the fascination of world leaders and public opinion alike, and had an enormous impact on the way the international society viewed Myanmar under the junta in the 1990s and 2000s. From a deliberately isolationist hermit nation under General Ne Win, post-­1988 Myanmar became a pariah state. The ostracisation that western powers and major international and financial organisations progressively imposed on Myanmar was a direct response to the ruthless repression of dissent and the treatment by the junta of Aung San Suu Kyi herself (Aung-­Thwin 2001). It was a popular foreign policy tool for European and American governments and global institutions, which deployed a wide range of complex political and trade sanctions against the military regime from the late 1990s (Horsey 2011). Schematically, these sanction policies aimed to cut the junta off from international trade and financial networks in order to, implicitly, force it to relinquish its authoritarian grip, engage in democratic reforms and eventually hand over power to a democratically elected government – ideally lead by Aung San Suu Kyi. While continuing to engage its neighbours and like-­minded states, Myanmar’s military elites responded by modelling the country’s foreign policy on a siege mentality already well entrenched among the Tatmadaw officer corps (Callahan 2003). The transfer of the national capital from Yangon to Naypyitaw in 2005, the repression of the revolt led by Buddhist monks in September 2007 and the rejection of international assistance after the passage of Cyclone Nargis in May 2008 further illustrated the ‘us-­versus-them’ siege mindset developed by the military top brass (Egreteau and Jagan 2013). This strategy of isolationist retreat, reimagined in the course of the 2000s, exacerbated the national security dimension in Myanmar’s relations with the world. This allowed the ruling elite to diffuse the effects of international sanctions and opprobrium; but it could not effectively leverage the ever waxing influence of China (Maung Aung Myoe 2011). It nevertheless helped the military leadership prepare, in a secluded Naypyitaw immune to external interference, the long-­awaited transition from military rule outlined in 2003 in a roadmap to a ‘disciplined-­flourishing democracy’ and the new constitution ratified in 2008.

Thein Sein and the USDP: Myanmar as the ‘new frontier’ The disbanding of the junta in March 2011 rekindled hopes for a prompt and durable reintegration of Myanmar into world affairs and the lifting of the two-­ decade-long international opprobrium the country had been subjected to. Three months earlier in November 2010, the military government had held the first general elections since 1990 and released Aung San Suu Kyi from her third period

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of house arrest. A former joint-­chief-of-­staff of the armed forces, Shwe Mann, took the speakership of the House of Representatives (Pyithu Hluttaw) in the new parliament. The elected and constitutionally appointed members of the bicameral legislature then elected the outgoing Prime Minister of the junta, Thein Sein, president of the post-­junta republican regime crafted by the 2008 constitution. Both retired army officers soon engaged the new administration into a startling liberalisation process and pledged a new phase of opening up diplomacy. A global euphoria emerged, not only among Yangon’s elites, but also among diplomats and potential foreign investors. Puzzled and intrigued, the world rediscovered Myanmar on the map. The Thein Sein government (2011–16) abolished state censorship, liberalised the banking, telecom and petrol retail markets, and reached out to remaining ethnic armed oppositions. It allowed Aung San Suu Kyi to engage in legislative politics by registering her party, the NLD. Her return to the forefront of politics sparked a fundamental change in the international community’s approach towards the country. Western governments, starting with the United States under the Obama Administration, Canada, Australia and the European Union, began to review – and suspend – their punitive policy of sanctions and ostracisation (Steinberg 2015; Dosch and Sidhu 2015). Major international financial institutions, including the Asian Development Bank, the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank re-­entered Myanmar in an attempt to reintegrate its economy into global trade and financial circuits. In December 2013, the 13th South East Asian Games were organised in Naypyitaw, and a month later, Myanmar took the rotating chair of the ASEAN – almost a decade after having been denied that privilege by its peers. Drawing parallels with the popular, albeit chaotic, revolts in the Arab world of the early 2010s, a flurry of reports and analyses praised the unfolding of a ‘Burmese Spring’. The first post-­junta administration was led by the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP), a patchwork of retired army officers, business tycoons and ex-­junta bureaucrats, whose rival patrons had been Thein Sein and Shwe Mann since its formation in 2010. The foreign policy objectives of the USDP in the early 2010s were threefold (Haacke 2016; Maung Aung Myoe 2016). First, the new regime hoped to recover a long lost legitimacy and restore Myanmar’s international standing after decades of diplomatic marginalisation and ostracisation. Second, it aimed to rebalance Myanmar’s strategic partnerships with regional and global powers to fend off a Chinese influence that had grown staggering from the early 1990s, while repairing its ties with the West and all international institutions willing to assist the country in its renewed development efforts. Third, it desired to show that Myanmar was open to meaningful business and ready to devise and implement the necessary reforms to attract foreign investment and move on the path towards accelerated economic growth. Early in his presidency, Thein Sein multiplied public speeches urging for a swift reintegration of Myanmar into world politics. In his inaugural address pronounced in front of the new parliament on 30 March 2011, he provided assurance that

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Myanmar yearned to recover its lost status of ‘respected member of the global community’ (New Light of Myanmar 2011: 6). Many a policymaker and renowned foreign policy expert inside the country has since shared this candid perspective (Chaw Chaw Sein 2016). The rapid normalisation of foreign relations in the early 2010s also purported to increase the new government’s legitimacy, which had originally been undermined by the debatable organisation – and controversial outcomes – of the constitutional referendum in May 2008 and the 2010 elections. Under President Thein Sein, Myanmar increased the number of its bilateral relations and expanded its own diplomatic network abroad as new foreign embassies opened in Yangon. By the end of USDP tenure, Myanmar had 36 ambassadors, 3 consul generals and a permanent representative at the UN in New York; it had established official relations with 114 independent states (Ministry of Foreign Affairs 2019a, 2019b). Many observers have argued that the swift political mutations at work during Thein Sein’s presidency were chiefly prompted by strategic motivations. In particular, the first generation of post-­junta leaders proved eager to back away from China’s commercial and political sway – shaped in the heyday of the junta in the 1990s and 2000s – and rebalance Myanmar’s position vis-­à-vis major powers in the region (Pedersen 2014; Bunte and Dosch 2015). One of the earliest decisions marking fundamental foreign policy rethinking in Naypyitaw indeed related to the asymmetrical Sino-­Myanmar relationship. In September 2011, Thein Sein announced the suspension of a massive hydropower dam project funded in Myanmar’s northern Kachin state by a Chinese state-­owned company, the China Power Investment Corporation (CPIC). The multi-­billion dollar Myitsone project had been linked a decade earlier between the former military regime and the CPIC (Maung Aung Myoe 2015). Located at the start of the Irrawaddy River that both economically and symbolically nourishes Myanmar’s heartland, the Myitsone project has generated strong local resistance ever since construction started, and the surprising move by Thein Sein was heartily welcomed by local and international activists. The Chinese reaction to the suspension was originally muted and bilateral relations did not sour (Robinson 2013). Beijing even continued to offer its mediation in the ambitious inter-­ethnic parleys that Thein Sein and his team of peace negotiators initiated in late 2011. Under Chinese patronage, several rounds of peace talks were held in Yunnan, particularly with Kachin, Ta’ang and Shan rebels still operating in the Sino-­Myanmar borderlands. Tensions resurfaced, however, in the bilateral relationship towards the end of the USDP term. The formulation of more aggressive foreign policy and infrastructure ambitions under Xi Jinping – who became China’s president in March 2013 – as well as recurrent conflicts between the Tatmadaw and rebel groups covertly supported by China, explained some of these persistent issues (U Myint 2019). This was particularly evident in the Kokang Special Region with the Myanmar National Democratic Alliance Army (MNDAA) – a militia comprised of ethnic Kokang, who are long-­term, Chinese-­speaking residents of northern Shan State – which launched new attacks against government troops in the run up to Myanmar’s 2015 elections (Han 2017).

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The West and Japan were therefore certainly both construed as much sought-­ after partners by the USDP leadership in its efforts to recalibrate Myanmar’s relations with the world. Patching up with the United States proved a decisive catalyst in the lifting of diplomatic sanctions blocking Myanmar from international and regional development-­focused organisations (Pedersen 2014). This also helped Thein Sein’s peace initiatives, which received from 2012 key financial support from Japan, the UN and the EU. But if the historical visit to Yangon of US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton in December 2011, and then that of President Obama a year later, opened a new chapter in the US-­Myanmar relationship, Washington managed to secure little, if any, effective and readily available levers of pressure on Myanmar under the USDP. In the eyes of the latter; indeed rebalancing Myanmar’s relations in the early 2010s did not purport to insert Myanmar into the rising Sino­American rivalry in the region (Steinberg 2015). Instead, it was to – once again, and as stated by Article 41 of the 2008 constitution – reassert an ‘independent, active and non-­aligned foreign policy’. Last, Thein Sein and his entourage of voluble retired generals turned civilian ministers kept on flagging Myanmar’s readiness to reform its economy and adopt international standards, ranging from environmental protection to anti-­corruption laws, and labour rights. Among key transformations brought by the USDP administration, the central bank was provided with greater autonomy, the national currency (kyat) was nominally floated, foreign telecoms operators and banks were allowed, and in 2012 a new investment law was adopted. Prominent tycoons who made fortunes under the era of junta-­led capitalism turned to philanthropy while retooling their commercial empires into conglomerates in position to compete, or partner, with international (potentially non-­Asian) firms eager to invest in an unfamiliar terrain (Szep and Marshall 2012). In the last stretch of the USDP government, Myanmar received US$9.4 billion in foreign direct investment (2015–16 fiscal year) compared with US$4.1 billion in 2013–14, and only US$329 million in 2009–10 (Aung Hla Tun 2015, 2016).

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: illusions and delusions Five years after the start of the post-­junta transition, the government formed by the NLD after its landslide victory in the 2015 elections could count on a tremendous reservoir of international goodwill. Expectations that Aung San Suu Kyi would open a new phase in the country’s hesitant democratic reforms and transformations, rein in the military, and take a leadership role on the global stage ran high. Constitutionally barred from the presidency, Aung San Suu Kyi became foreign minister in March 2016, gaining a permanent seat at the powerful National Security and Defence Council (NSDC). To allow her to further influence policy, the newly formed NLD legislature adopted a law designing an overarching cabinet post – that of State Counselor – for her. However, Aung San Suu Kyi soon delegated most of her diplomatic duties to trusted allies. Kyaw Tint Swe, a former Myanmar representative at the UN during the junta heyday (2001–10) was appointed Union

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Minister in charge of foreign and political affairs at the State Counselor Office. In January 2017, the NLD also created the position of National Security Advisor (NSA), modelled on NSA offices operating in South Asian states. Thaung Tun, another career diplomat and ex-­ambassador to the EU, took the post. A year later, Thaung Tun was promoted Union Minister for Investment and Foreign Economic Relations. Last, in November 2017, another union ministry was formed and tasked with international cooperation. Kyaw Tin was appointed as its head. More than Aung San Suu Kyi herself, these three veteran diplomats took charge of the foreign policy process under the NLD. The pyramidal and loyalty structure of the ruling party meant that little foreign policy inputs could originate outside Aung San Suu Kyi’s circle of trust (Maung Aung Myoe 2017). In any case, given the amount of foreign goodwill the NLD enjoyed right after the 2015 polls, foreign policy was not a priority for the new government. The latter only slightly expanded the country’s diplomatic relations. As of early 2020, Myanmar had established official relations with 121 independent states, only up from 114 at the end of USDP term (Ministry of Foreign Affairs 2019a). A landmark addition was the Holy See in May 2017. The NLD administration also cautiously pursued the ratification process of international treaties its predecessors had initiated. In October 2017, the Union parliament ratified the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESR) while the government signed the UN Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW) a year later. The NLD administration, however, postponed in 2019 the signature of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR). Three core elements have dominated the foreign policy agenda of the second post-­junta administration. First, the NLD acknowledged the need to work on restoring ties with neighbouring China, wary at seeing its massive investment projects and strategic positioning in the country being challenged during Thein Sein’s presidency. Second, the new government – and its advisors in charge of foreign policymaking – had to negotiate backdoor power-­sharing arrangements with a fully autonomous military institution having its own strategic, security and diplomatic goals. Third, soon after the NLD took power, fresh outbreaks of violence in Rakhine State and the brutal crackdown led by Myanmar’s security forces on the Rohingya minority triggered a global outcry whose impact has since largely been underestimated, if not dismissed, by the NLD. After five years of tensed relations under the USDP presidency, the NLD administration sought to establish a more balanced relationship with China. The Chinese leadership had already initiated a rapprochement with Aung San Suu Kyi while she was an opposition parliamentarian. In June 2015, the top brass of the communist party rolled out the red carpet for her first official trip to Beijing (Aung Zaw 2015). After she took the foreign affairs portfolio in 2016, her first major diplomatic trip abroad was to China. Only a month later, in September 2016, would she travel to the United States. Despite Beijing’s accommodating approach towards the NLD leader, several bilateral issues have remained unresolved. In August 2016 Aung San Suu Kyi made a conciliatory gesture, offering to form an investigative commission

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on hydropower projects along the Irrawaddy River, but progress on the Myitsone dam project had already stalled (Hein Ko Soe and Kean 2018). Since 2016, China has also increased its backdoor interactions with the Kachin, Shan and Ta’ang rebellions operating in the Sino-­Myanmar borderlands where the production and trafficking of drugs have skyrocketed. The powerful ethnic Wa militia has renewed its armed activism and anti-­religious campaigns targeting Christian minorities. An offshoot of the erstwhile Burmese communist party long supported by Beijing, the United Wa State Army (UWSA) still counts on powerful networks of sympathy and political backing in Yunnan. Protracted armed conflict and trafficking in the borderlands continue to weigh heavily on the ambitious peace process and inter-­ ethnic dialogue initiated during the Thein Sein presidency, but faltering under its NLD successors. Furthermore, under President Xi Jinping China has been pressing ahead with a massive infrastructure programme – the Belt and Road Initiative. Aimed at enhancing China’s participation in regional and global economic and trade relations, the initiative has included Myanmar as a key partner. The NLD government has been sympathetic to the Chinese-­funded proposal and agreed to pursue the development of a China-­Myanmar Economic Corridor (CMEC). The latter comprises 20-odd infrastructure projects on Myanmar soil – including a special economic zone and the expansion of a deep-­sea port in Kyaukphyu, a city along the Rakhine coast at the termination of an already operating Chinese oil and gas pipeline. The CMEC has an estimated total budget of US$2 billion (Amara Thiha 2018). But fears of a potential debt trap have encouraged the NLD administration to keep on negotiating with Beijing the scaling down of its ambitions in Myanmar (U Myint 2019). The NLD knows it walks a tightrope. Social activism in the country has often targeted Chinese projects for their lack of transparency, weak accountability mechanisms and disregard for local conflicts – particularly on land – thus highlighting a whiff of neocolonialism. Public opinion in Myanmar has long tended to hold negative attitudes towards an over-­reliance on Chinese political and economic support. At the same time, international pressure has mounted again on Myanmar following the resurgence of violence in the country in late 2016. Renewed pressure from the West and international society has responded to the lack of empathy shown by the NLD for the plight of ethnic and religious minorities that have been victims of the brutality – and impunity – of Myanmar’s security forces. That context has encouraged the new government to avoid alienating such a powerful diplomatic and commercial partner as China. A second key challenge the NLD had to learn to cope with during the early days of its mandate was the persistent influence of the military over foreign, regional and border policymaking. The 2008 constitution bestowed upon the armed forces crucial foreign policy prerogatives, through in particular the military-­run Ministry of Defence and Ministry of Border Affairs (Egreteau 2018). The number of foreign trips made by the Commander-­in-Chief of the Tatmadaw has surged since 2011. Under both the USDP and NLD governments, Senior-­General Min Aung Hlaing travelled to attend high-­ranking diplomatic meetings in such capitals as Vienna,

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Singapore, Tel-­Aviv, Tokyo and Moscow, among others. A study commissioned by the Yangon-­based Tagaung Institute of Political Science recorded 46 trips between April 2011 and July 2018 (The Irrawaddy 2018). These visits aimed not only at restoring an image of respectability for the chief of an institution long despised for its poor accountability records. It also opened new doors for the acquisition of military equipment and the establishment of military-­to-military exchange programmes in Central Europe, Russia, Israel or Japan (Maung Aung Myoe 2017). National security concerns still linger high among Myanmar’s post-­junta military elites. The release by the Ministry of Defence of a white paper in early 2016 – the first in 20 years – attested to an obvious continuity in the wary perceptions that the Tatmadaw leadership had developed of the outside world, despite the post-­2011 opening up. The army top brass still insist on the multifaceted threats to the ‘state security’ and ‘national security’ of the country, a stance that often contrasts with the views of civilian policymakers, including the NLD (Callahan 2015: 47–8). Last, the resurgence of violence in the Rakhine State since 2016 has not only threatened the transition at work by taking the NLD focus away from socio-­ economic and democratic reforms. It has also severely undermined international confidence about Myanmar’s future and its handling of enduring ethnic and sectarian conflicts. The (mis)management by the NLD administration of the Rakhine crisis and the tragedy of the latest Rohingya exodus have, for many international observers, dashed hopes that Aung San Suu Kyi could live up to the sky-­high expectations her electoral victory in 2015 had generated (Robinson 2016). Already disenfranchised by the USDP government in 2015, the million-­strong community of Rohingya residing in northern parts of the Rakhine State have faced increased persecution since an armed group pretending to represent its cause started off a rebellion in late 2016. The army-­led repression turned even more brutal after renewed attacks by the Arakan Rohingya Solidarity Association (ARSA) in August 2017. Much to the chagrin of her admirers, Aung San Suu Kyi refused to condemn the military’s brutality and widespread human rights violations the Muslim minority has been subjected to (Barany 2018). Her decision to appoint an advisory commission headed by the late Kofi Annan – a former UN Secretary General – and thereafter start implementing the 80-odd recommendations made by this commission did not thwart international criticism (Jolliffe 2017). Neither did her decision to counter in person allegations of genocide to the UN International Court of Justice (ICJ) in The Hague, where Myanmar faced a genocide case in December 2019. Global pressure has mounted on the NLD government to rein in the security forces and address grievances and aspirations of the country’s ethnic and religious minorities. In August 2018, a UN fact-­finding mission produced a damning report highlighting massive violations of human rights by the armed forces not only in Rakhine State against the Rohingyas, but also in war-­torn northern Myanmar. It urged for the prosecution of Tatmadaw leaders for war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocide. In a highly commented decision, the online social networking company Facebook deleted the personal account of Senior-­General Min Aung Hlaing, the Tatmadaw chief, for spreading hatred and relying on unverified,

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if not forged, pieces of news. The United States terminated the military-­to-military cooperation they had reactivated with the Tatmadaw under the USDP and in July 2019 imposed new sanctions on Min Aung Hlaing (Paddock 2019). Departing from its traditional non-­interference stance, the ASEAN has similarly proved at odds with the NLD government on the Rakhine issue, particularly Indonesia and Malaysia (Moe Thuzar and Rieffel 2018). Last, as she defended Myanmar (and its security forces) against genocide charges at the ICJ in December 2019, Aung San Suu Kyi seemed to respond to the global outcry over genocide denial with a lack of concern or even empathy. Combined with the failures of the NLD to uphold the long-­promised economic and bureaucratic reforms necessary to attract foreign investors – most wary at the image of volatility Myanmar has projected since Aung San Suu Kyi took power – the NLD government may have squandered the enthusiastic opportunities the outside world offered to provide after the euphoria of the 2015 polls (Kean 2017). In that context, the unwavering diplomatic and commercial support provided by China – and to a lesser extent that of India – proved at the turn of the 2020s quite necessary patronage for the NLD government.

Conclusion: future challenges Three aspects of Myanmar’s foreign relations and engagement with the world have remained quite unchanged since the 1950s and will continue to significantly determine the formulation and implementation of the country’s foreign policy beyond the post-­junta context of the 2010s. First is the peculiar geography with which an independent Myanmar must cope. While offering outstanding opportunities for growth and commerce, the country’s geostrategic situation at the crossroads of competing Asian giants and a still volatile Southeast Asian region might prove a commanding obstacle to more openness and proactive diplomacy in the 2020s. Second, the gradual dominance of the armed forces over state apparatus has translated into a pervasive military control over foreign policymaking since the 1950s. Whether under civilian, semi-­civilian or direct military rule, Myanmar’s foreign policy has been decisively influenced by the vision the Tatmadaw officer corps has developed of the world. The general mistrust of foreign powers and its xenophobic undercurrents – shared by many among Myanmar’s contemporary military establishment – may well endure beyond the 2020s. Global outcry and persistent international criticism over the recurrent brutality with which Myanmar’s security forces tend to conduct their counter-­insurgency and cleansing operations continue to hinder the tentative process of reconciliation between the Tatmadaw and the world. Last indeed, the long-­standing domestic problems, ethnic and sectarian conflicts, and the protracted civil war unresolved by the first two post-­junta administrations led by the USDP (2011–16) and the NLD (2016–21) will continue to affect Myanmar’s relations with its immediate neighbours and the global powers and international society alike. Stalled peace-­building efforts, sluggish economic and bureaucratic reforms, and the cruel treatment of ethno-­religious minorities – Rohingya and Christian minorities in northern Myanmar in particular – may well

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impair the ability of future Myanmar governments to attract responsible international investors, more efficiently involve the community of international donors and salvage Myanmar’s international image beyond the 2020s.

References Amara Thiha 2018. ‘Can Myanmar afford China’s Belt and Road?’. The Diplomat, 29 August. Aung Hla Tun 2015. ‘Myanmar 2014/15 FDI swells to $8.1 bn – govt agency’. Reuters, 25 March. Aung Hla Tun 2016. ‘Myanmar FDI hits record high to $9.4 bln in 2015–16’. Reuters, 11 April. Aung-­Thwin, Michael 2001. ‘Parochial universalism, democracy jihad, and the orientalist image of Burma: the new evangelism’. Pacific Affairs 74(4): 483–505. Aung Zaw 2015. ‘As Suu Kyi eyes election win, Beijing goes courting’. The Irrawaddy, 10 July. Barany, Zoltan 2018. ‘Where Myanmar went wrong: from democratic awakening to ethnic cleansing’. Foreign Affairs 97(3): 141–54. Bhatia, Rajiv 2015. India-­Myanmar Relations: Changing Contours. New Delhi: Routledge. Bünte, Marco and Jorn Dosch 2015. ‘Myanmar: political reforms and the recalibration of external relations’. Journal of Current Southeast Asian Affairs 34(2): 3–19. Callahan, Mary P 2003. Making Enemies: War and State-­Building in Burma. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Callahan, Mary P 2015. ‘National security and the military in post-­junta, constitutional Myanmar’. In n.a. (ed.) The United States and Japan: Assisting Myanmar Development. Washington, DC: Sasakawa Peace Foundation, 41–55. Chaw Chaw Sein 2016. ‘Myanmar foreign policy under new government: changes and prospects’, in Chenyang Li, Chaw Chaw Sein and Zhu Xianghui (eds) Myanmar: Reintegrating into the International Community. Singapore: World Scientific, 27–40. Clymer, Kenton 2015. A Delicate Relationship: The United States and Burma/Myanmar since 1945. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Dosch, Jorn and Jatswan S Sidhu 2015. ‘The European Union’s Myanmar policy: focused or directionless?’ Journal of Current Southeast Asian Affairs 34(2): 85–112. Egreteau, Renaud 2011. ‘A passage to Burma? India, development, and democratization in Myanmar’. Contemporary Politics 17(4): 467–86. Egreteau, Renaud 2018. ‘Foreign policy and political changes in post-­junta Myanmar’. In Sumit Ganguly, Andrew Scobell and Joseph C Liow (eds) Routledge Handbook of Asian Security Studies. London: Routledge, 301–11. Egreteau, Renaud and Larry Jagan 2013. Soldiers and Diplomacy in Burma: The Foreign Relations of the Burmese Praetorian State. Singapore: NUS Press. Egreteau, Renaud and Chenyang Li 2018. ‘Neighbourhood’. In Adam Simpson, Nicholas Farrelly and Ian Holliday (eds) Routledge Handbook on Contemporary Myanmar. London: Routledge, 312–23. Haacke, Jurgen 2006. Myanmar’s Foreign Policy: Domestic Influences and International Implications. Paper no. 381. London: IISS. Haacke, Jurgen 2016. Myanmar’s Foreign Policy under President U Thein Sein: Non-­Aligned and Diversified. Trends in Southeast Asia No. 4. Singapore: ISEAS. Han, Enze 2017. ‘Geopolitics, ethnic conflicts along the border, and Chinese foreign policy changes toward Myanmar’. Asian Security 13(1): 59–73.

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Hein Ko Soe and Thomas Kean 2018. ‘Myitsone’s moment of truth’. Frontier [Myanmar], 29 November. Horsey, Richard 2011. Ending Forced Labour in Myanmar: Engaging a Pariah Regime. London: Routledge. The Irrawaddy 2018. ‘Editorial: Snr-­Gen Min Aung Hlaing ushers in period of close ties between Myanmar and Thai defence forces’, 10 August. Johnstone, William C 1963. Burma’s Foreign Policy: A Study in Neutralism. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Jolliffe, Kim 2017. ‘Myanmar’s foreign relations after the Rakhine State crisis (Part I)’. Oxford Teacircle, 1 November. Kean, Tom 2017. ‘How Aung San Suu Kyi is wasting Myanmar’s economic potential’. Southeast Asia Globe, 4 January. Liang, Chi-­shad 1990. Burma’s Foreign Relations: Neutralism in Theory and Practice. New York: Praeger. Lintner, Bertil 1999. Burma in Revolt: Opium and Insurgency since 1948 (2nd edn). Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Lintner, Bertil 2015. Great Game East: India, China, and the Struggle for Asia’s Most Volatile Frontier (rev. edn). London: Yale University Press. Malik, J Mohan 1997. ‘Myanmar’s role in regional security: pawn or pivot?’. Contemporary Southeast Asia 19(1): 52–73. Maung Aung Myoe 2011. In the Name of Pauk-­Phaw: Myanmar’s China Policy since 1948. Singapore: ISEAS Publications. Maung Aung Myoe 2015. ‘Myanmar’s China policy since 2011: determinants and directions’. Journal of Current Southeast Asian Affairs 34(2): 21–54. Maung Aung Myoe 2016. ‘Myanmar’s foreign policy under the USDP Government: continuities and changes’. Journal of Current Southeast Asian Affairs 35(1): 123–50. Maung Aung Myoe 2017. ‘The NLD and Myanmar’s foreign policy: not new, but different’. Journal of Current Southeast Asian Affairs 36(1): 89–121. Maung Maung 1956. Burma in the Family of Nations. Amsterdam: Djambatan. Ministry of Foreign Affairs 2019a. ‘List of countries having diplomatic relations with the Republic of the Union of Myanmar’. Republic of the Union of Myanmar. Available from: www.mofa.gov.mm/deplomatic-­relations-with-­myanmar/, accessed 10 January 2020. Ministry of Foreign Affairs 2019b. ‘Myanmar missions abroad’. Republic of the Union of Myanmar. Available from: www.mofa.gov.mm/mofa-­3/myanmar-­missions/, accessed 10 January 2020. Moe Thuzar and Lex Rieffel 2018. ASEAN’s Myanmar Dilemma. Perspectives No. 3. Singapore: ISEAS. New Light of Myanmar 2011. ‘President U Thein Sein delivers inaugural address to Pyidaungsu Hluttaw’, 31 March, p. 6. Paddock, Richard C 2019. ‘Top Myanmar generals are barred from entering U.S. over Rohingya killings’. New York Times, 17 July. Pedersen, Morten 2014. ‘Myanmar’s foreign policy in a time of transition’ In Mely Caballero­Anthony et al. (eds) Myanmar’s Growing Regional Role. Seattle, WA: National Bureau of Asian Research, 53–74. Roberts, Christopher 2010. ASEAN’s Myanmar Crisis. Singapore: ISEAS Publications. Robinson, Gwen 2013. ‘Myanmar cleans house: China’s worst nightmare?’. Financial Times, 13 April. Robinson, Gwen 2016. ‘Rakhine conflict changes Myanmar’s game’. Nikkei Asian Review, 22 December.

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Steinberg, David I 1981. Burma’s Road to Development: Ideology and Growth under Military Rule. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Steinberg, David I 2015. ‘Myanmar and the United States, closing and opening doors: an idiosyncratic analysis’. Social Research 82(2): 427–52. Steinberg, David I 2018. ‘The World’. In Adam Simpson, Nicholas Farrelly and Ian Holliday (eds) Routledge Handbook on Contemporary Myanmar. London: Routledge, 291–9. Steinberg, David I and Fan Hongwei 2012. Modern China-­Myanmar Relations: Dilemmas of Mutual Dependence. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Szep, Jason and Andrew Marshall 2012. ‘An image makeover for Myanmar Inc.’. Reuters, 13 April. Thant Myint-­U 2012. Where China Meets India: Burma and the New Crossroads of Asia (rev. edn). New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Trager, Frank N 1956. ‘Burma’s foreign policy 1948–56: neutralism, third force and rice’. Journal of Asian Studies 16(1): 89–102. U Myint 2019. ‘Thinking, Fast and Slow’ on the Belt and Road: Myanmar’s Experience with China. Perspectives No. 90, 29 October. Singapore: ISEAS.

Part II

Economy

8 POLITICAL REGIMES AND ECONOMIC POLICY Isolation, consolidation, reintegration Michele Ford, Michael Gillan and Htwe-­Htwe Thein

Introduction Since 1988, Myanmar has had several different forms of political regime, all of which have claimed to support market-­based economic development facilitated by a transition from economic isolation to reintegration within the global economy. Under successive military dominated regimes, a formal commitment to market reform was shaped by Myanmar’s geopolitical isolation and associated trade sanctions, the interests of domestic and especially military associated elites, profound institutional weaknesses, and inconsistencies in economic management and policy implementation. As a consequence of these conditions, economic development was stunted and incomplete as military-­controlled firms and private sector conglomerates emerged under the patronage of the military-­controlled government. Political and economic reforms – and, in particular, the formation of quasi-­ civilian reformist government (2011–16) and the National League for Democracy (NLD) government that replaced it – have enabled greater economic dynamism and a partial reintegration into global trade, production and investment networks. The Thein Sein government presided over a series of economic and political reforms, including economic policy measures designed to facilitate foreign and domestic investment, financial sector development, trade growth and labour market institutions. The NLD government has emphasised responsible business investment and sustainable development policies. However, as with previous regimes, it also has had difficulty in translating policy settings into action. This, in turn, has meant that it has been unable to address long-­term problems such as: an extractive resource-­reliant and unevenly developed economy; weaknesses in social, physical and institutional infrastructure; and economic inequality and limited formal sector employment.1

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Economic life under the junta: from isolationism to tentative engagement Burma’s one-­party militarised government, led by General Ne Win from 1962, adopted an ideology premised on a centrally planned and isolationist economic model, called the ‘Burmese Way to Socialism’. During this period, the economy remained predominantly agricultural with underdeveloped residual sectors dominated by state-­owned corporations and enterprises (Mya Maung 1998). This approach was abandoned after the State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC) took control of the nation in 1988. Later known as the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC), the new regime implemented a transition to a market economy. This policy of marketisation was both a practical strategy designed to rebuild a failing economy and a symbolic attempt to shore up state legitimacy (Ford et al. 2016). Marketisation did allow for the emergence of private sector enterprises. But, despite greater focus on international trade and investment and some (uneven) economic growth in the 1990s, the country’s underlying structural economic problems remained unresolved. Unsurprisingly, many remained sceptical about the extent to which the new framework was genuinely open and market-­based given the limited extent of reform, the continued dominance of elite interests and the fact that larger enterprises remained for the most part state-­owned. The regime may have made a public commitment to market-­based reforms, but officials and ministries within the state bureaucracy continued to govern in an arbitrary and heavy-­handed way (Mason 1998). Meanwhile, claims to greater economic openness were undermined by the nationalistic attitude of government officials and their inherent suspicion of foreigners. Economic engagement abroad was further complicated by external constraints, most notably trade sanctions imposed by the United States and several other countries in response to human rights violations in the country (Meyer and Htwe Htwe Thein 2014). The geopolitical isolation of Myanmar also reduced contributions from international development assistance programmes, although some Asian nations remained engaged (Steinberg 1992). As a consequence, the state became over-­reliant on resource revenues, while the country’s physical, economic and social infrastructure remained underdeveloped (Pick and Htwe Htwe Thein 2010). The main reform initiatives associated with the beginnings of marketisation focused on foreign investment and trade, banking, agriculture and industrial policy. The first major legal reform initiated by the new regime was the Union of Myanmar Foreign Investment Law, introduced in November 1988. The law allowed for tax exemptions and start-­up tax holidays for manufacturing industries and provided guarantees that enterprises would not be nationalised, as had occurred in the 1960s (McCarthy 2000). It also allowed for wholly foreign-­owned enterprises except in key strategic economic sectors and industries such as banking, communications, defence, fisheries, oil and gas, and transportation, and for joint ventures with locally owned entities – a category that included military owned or controlled firms such

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as the Union of Myanmar Economic Holdings Limited (UMEHL) (Mya Maung 1998). Foreign land ownership remained prohibited, but investors were assured of long-­term renewable leases. However, import restrictions meant that multinational firms selling consumer goods were either discouraged from direct market entry or provided with an incentive to withdraw from the country. These restrictions worked in tandem with a difficult operational environment and a weakly developed market, but also trade sanctions, international consumer-­based activism and boycotts, to discourage international investment and engagement in the consumer goods sector (Htwe Htwe Thein 2003). Another major area of policy reform was the banking system. Reforms began in 1990 with the passage of three laws designed to support the formation of the Central Bank of Myanmar, the establishment of private sector banks and enhanced availability of credit to rural areas and the agricultural sector (Turnell 2009). However, these reforms did not bring the desired results. The Central Bank failed as an effective system regulator or initiator of monetary policy and the Myanmar Agricultural and Rural Development Bank did not resolve the problem of insufficient provision of credit in rural areas. In 2003, Myanmar’s banking sector suffered a severe setback when several private banks collapsed after rumours of insolvency sparked a run of customer withdrawals (Förch 2018). Reforms in other areas of the financial sector were also problematic. Foreign exchange certificates developed on a model used in China in its early period of economic reform were introduced in 1993 for use by tourists, foreigners and Myanmar citizens (McCarthy 2000). Because they were pegged to the US dollar, the issuance of these certificates was interpreted as a de facto devaluation of the kyat (Guyot 1997). While this approach avoided some of the pitfalls associated with an official devaluation, the perpetuation of a dual exchange rate posed considerable challenges for foreign investors, as the official exchange rate was used for purposes such as calculating import duties and taxes (Myat Thein 2004). In terms of the economic base, the new regime maintained a focus on a model driven by agricultural exploitation and the extractive industries. As one of its four major economic objectives, it flagged a commitment to developing the agricultural sector as the foundation of development in other sectors (Mya Maung 1998). There were, however, significant continuities in this sector despite some policy shifts made in an attempt to boost production. Food security was maintained through compulsory procurement of rice crops at below-­market prices, rationing of supply to consumers and control over rice exports, as under the previous regime (Fujita and Okamoto 2009). The procurement system, which promoted domestic market­based pricing, was first eased in 1987 and then finally abolished in 2003 (Fujita and Okamoto 2009). There was also significant expansion in the resource sector, especially in mining, precious stones, and energy – with investment in the gas industry in particular leading to increased exports from the late 1990s onwards (Htwe Htwe Thein and Pick 2009). These developments were driven by the entry of resource-­ seeking foreign firms with the technical and financial capacity to support exploration and extraction infrastructure (Htwe Htwe Thein 2011). Some other industries,

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including garment manufacturing, grew more haphazardly in part because the state – and by extension military-­controlled enterprises – preferred to concentrate on lucrative near-­monopolies over other sectors. The growth of private businesses in these industries was allowed insofar as they did not interfere with the business activities of state or military-­owned firms (Kudo 2009). The government also took steps to support the development of the tourism sector, establishing a Ministry of Hotels and Tourism in 1993 and inviting foreign investors to partner with state-­owned enterprises (SOEs) to develop hotels, resorts and tourism infrastructure (Mya Maung 1998). These measures, along with changes to visa regulations, did increase tourist arrivals but the industry in Myanmar remained underdeveloped when compared to neighbouring states in the region. In short, the move from an isolated and state-­ dominated economic model to one characterised by capitalist development and international engagement was frustrated not only by external factors such as trade sanctions but internally by poor economic governance, leading to recurrent problems with inflation, budget deficits and foreign debt. These problems notwithstanding, the policies initiated during this period did produce economic growth and private sector capital accumulation through various emergent industries and investment from neighbouring countries. However, these developments were partial in scope, uneven in their growth and distorted by weaknesses in the design and implementation of economic policy. The seeds of a domestic private sector were planted, but from its inception it was structured to enlarge the military’s economic base with the objective of maintaining its political power (Mya Maung 1998). Private sector development was dominated by emerging crony firms and conglomerates, including military-­controlled groups like UMEHL and the Myanmar Economic Corporation, which were granted concessions, licences and contracts (Jones 2014; Bello 2018). Military-­linked interests also benefited from a programme of privatisation of state assets and SOEs, a process that occurred in phases from the mid-­1990s, and which accelerated in the final years of the regime to the benefit of political and economic elites (Ford et al. 2016). Overall, then, this period saw a consolidation of the economic power of regime elites, which grew alongside larger private sector firms that were nonetheless aligned with the interests of the former through patron-­client relations. Not surprisingly, economic growth proved to be unstable, with an initial spurt faltering by 1997, when the country entered a period of economic slowdown, deteriorating further in the new millennium (Mieno 2009).

Thein Sein and the USDP: reform and reintegration into the global economy Myanmar was suffering from deep economic malaise when President Thein Sein’s military-­backed civilian government came to power in March 2011. The new government tried to improve the country’s economic situation by placing greater emphasis on foreign investment, trade liberalisation and industrial development in labour-­intensive industries like garment manufacturing which simultaneously

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promote employment growth (Tsui 2016). To achieve these goals, it established complementary initiatives to improve the domestic business environment and encourage international investment and trade. In the year that it took office, the Thein Sein government introduced a 20-year policy framework called the National Comprehensive Development Plan. The plan’s objective was to move further away from the country’s dependence on the agricultural and extractive sectors to build a diversified and sustainable economy and to promote inclusive growth and human-­centred development (UNIDO 2017). It also aimed to provide the building blocks required for Myanmar to become a major trading and production economy in ASEAN by 2030 (MNPED 2014). In order to achieve these aims, it sought to strengthen public institutions and governance, create an enabling environment and a strong enterprise base, expand domestic and global connectivity and economic integration, foster internationally competitive sectors and industries, develop local economic potential and reduce regional disparities, promote human development, and safeguard the environment and Myanmar’s resource base through sustainable management (UNIDO 2017). A key focus of the plan was on the physical and social infrastructure required to enable Myanmar to become integrated into global value chains. This emphasis on export-­oriented industries was continued in the Framework for Economic and Social Reform, which outlined the government’s policy priorities (GRUM 2013), and in the 2015 National Export Strategy, which targeted the development of export infrastructure, production locations, internationally compliant quality standards, and regulatory and legal frameworks to better protect the rights of both producers and workers (Tsui 2016). Policy adjustments made to achieve these goals included updating the Foreign Investment Law in 2012 to liberalise registration processes, introduce tax breaks and ease restrictions on the leasing of land (MNPED 2014). In a key departure from the earlier version, the new law permitted 100 per cent foreign ownership except in the extractive sector and some primary industries (Cho Cho Thein and Tha Pye Nyo 2017). This provision reduced the leverage available to military-­linked domestic players and helped reduce ownership fraud (Htwe Htwe Thein 2013). These measures were complemented by changes in the industrial relations framework that brought Myanmar more into line with international labour standards by, for example, permitting the establishment of trade unions (Gillan and Htwe Htwe Thein 2016). Changes in the regulation of labour were important not only because they helped ameliorate international concerns about labour and human rights, but also because Myanmar’s failure to comply with international labour standards was a substantive barrier to further foreign direct investment in garment manufacturing and other consumer-­focused industries (Ford et al. 2017). Attempts to reform industrial relations practice have been concentrated on the garment industry, which constitutes a key focus of Myanmar’s attempts to internationalise its economy and create formal sector jobs. As in many other countries in the region, the garment industry provides little in the way of value-­adding, as its operations are limited to cutting and assembling products from materials produced elsewhere.2

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Nevertheless, changes made during this period laid the foundation for an increase in garment exports from US$900 million in 2012 to US$4.6 billion in 2018 (Eurocham Myanmar 2019). Export-­oriented production was further promoted with the passing of the Special Economic Zone Law of 2014, which replaced two laws passed in 2011. The 2014 law allowed for the establishment of specifically designated economic zones to support supply chain industries (Asian Development Bank 2016). The first three special economic zones to be developed were located at Dawei, Thilawa and Kyaukphyu (Wood 2017). Investors buying into these parks are entitled to up to seven years of income tax exemption with possibilities of partial exemptions for longer periods, as well as up to five years of relief from customs duties and other relevant forms of tax, again with a longer period of partial exemption. In addition, they are provided with security of tenure in the form of the right to lease land for 50 years with the option of a further 25-year extension (GRUM 2014). Adjustments in the regulation of foreign investment were accompanied by a series of policy measures designed to improve domestic infrastructure. The passing of the revised Foreign Investment Law was followed by the Myanmar Citizens Investment Law of 2013, which provided a framework for the regulation of domestic investment. Additional changes were introduced through the Farm Land Law of 2012, which allowed long-­term use of land by private investors for agricultural and industrial purposes while protecting the land rights of smallholders and poor farmers (MNPED 2014). In 2015, a Competition Law was passed, which provided a framework for regulating anti-­competitive conduct, monopolistic behaviour and unfair market practices (Asian Development Bank 2016). As is the case more generally, insufficient enforcement has limited the impact of these laws. For example, little was done to operationalise the safeguards incorporated in the Farm Land Law of 2012 as the growth of foreign-­funded plantation projects fuelled land grabs by local power brokers and a preference for more commercially oriented crops led to a shortage of other important crops. Their introduction has nevertheless vastly improved the enabling environment. Changes were also made to improve Myanmar’s financial infrastructure. The Ministry of Finance and Revenue also began developing a medium-­term public expenditure framework to streamline revenue flows and better target expenditure (MNPED 2014). Other measures included the abolition of Myanmar’s multiple exchange rate system by introducing a managed float of the Kyat in April 2012 – a reform hailed as a major milestone in Myanmar’s integration into international trade systems – and the removal of withholding taxes on imports. The Central Bank was granted formal independence from the Ministry of Finance and private banks were given permission to conduct foreign exchange operations, a function previously monopolised by state banks (Kubo 2013). The Myanmar Industrial Development Bank was transformed into a specialised bank for small and medium­scale enterprises and steps were taken to reform SOEs, including the introduction of an open tender system (MNPED 2014).

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Another key area of reform involved the liberalisation of telecommunications. Until 2013, the state-­owned Myanmar Post and Telecommunications had been the only mobile operator in the country. Under the Telecommunications Law of that year, a regulatory framework was established that allowed competition and private investment in the sector. Telecommunications licences were subsequently awarded to two international mobile network operators. Although open competition was restricted, these reforms had brought dramatic improvements in the enabling environment, not only reducing costs, but also leading to improvements in access to telecommunications infrastructure including the internet (Cho Cho Thein and Tha Pye Nyo 2017). Although Myanmar continued to lag behind other ASEAN countries in terms of internet and telecommunications connectivity, this policy bore immediate results. From 2011 to 2015 mobile phone ownership increased from an estimated 2.3 per cent to 35.7 per cent of Myanmar’s population (Asian Development Bank 2016). Policy reforms during this period led to a significant increase in the rate of economic growth, which rose from 5.6 per cent in 2011 to 7.0 per cent in 2015 (World Bank 2018a). There was a notable increase in trade, with total merchandise trade expanding from US$18.3 billion in 2011 to US$28.3 billion in 2015, albeit with imports increasing at a greater rate than exports (WTO 2018). Foreign direct investment (FDI) approvals surged from US$4.64 billion in 2011–12 to US$9.48 billion in 2015–16 (DICA 2017). However, in terms of actual (as opposed to merely approved) FDI inflows, the World Bank has reported US$2.52 billion in 2011 in contrast to slightly over US$4 billion in 2015 (World Bank 2018a). Myanmar’s productive base nevertheless remained underdeveloped, relying primarily on a narrow range of agricultural products and limited manufacturing, and low value-­ added activities (MNPED 2014). Myanmar’s capacity to break free of this reliance remained constrained by poor infrastructure in the areas of transport, communications and utilities, a weak private sector and government institutions with little capacity to oversee more deep-­ reaching change. Moreover, the key beneficiaries of these advances have been the established domestic conglomerates, which were best-­placed to take advantage of the opening up of the economy. It is true that the reforms undertaken in this period challenged their dominance, removing some key sources of revenue (International Crisis Group 2012), and that crony firms worked ‘to distance themselves from their murky past and rebrand themselves as valuable contributors to the new economy’ (Aung Min and Kudo 2013: 165). But by the time reforms were initiated the economic power of the military-­owned and large domestic conglomerates had consolidated to the point where they were well placed to dominate the economy regardless of political regime types or policy settings (Ford et al. 2016).

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: the challenge of policy implementation The NLD government came to power in a surge of popular support for Aung San Suu Kyi. With its election came great hopes for a new democratic era. But it was

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clear that the NLD had devoted little attention to economic policy in the lead-­up to the 2015 election or before assuming government in February 2016. In the years that followed, there was significant continuity between the NLD’s policies and those of the former government insofar that they were premised on facilitating market-­based growth and development across the economy. One area of difference was the new government’s formal commitment to responsible business investment and conduct, and to sustainable development goals. However, translating these framing commitments to concrete policies and actions that generate real change remained a challenge for the new civilian-­led government, which lacked experience in economic governance, as indeed in other policy domains. In early statements, the NLD signalled that its economic policies would focus on five domains, namely fiscal prudence (reducing wasteful spending, reviewing the tax system and further privatisation of under-­performing SOEs); lean and efficient government (creating institutions to support the rule of law, property rights, transparency and accountability); revitalising agriculture (improving access to finance, security of property and tenure, rural productivity and upstream linkages); monetary and fiscal stability (further reforms to the financial and banking sectors to bring them in line with international standards); and functioning infrastructure. The NLD government released a 12-Point Economic Policy on 29 July 2016, fleshing out these domains. The 2016 economic policy had a strong market orientation. Key points included a commitment to further privatisation, achieving a balance between agriculture and industry and improvements in human capital and the enabling environment – measures targeted in large part to increasing the country’s ability to compete globally and within ASEAN (GRUM 2016a: 13–14). However, this policy was widely considered to be lacking in sufficient detail, which negatively affected business confidence and the investment environment (Economist Intelligence Unit 2016). The year 2016 also saw the release of an investment policy that emphasised the government’s commitment to foreign investment and its facilitation through the development of a stable macroeconomic and legal environment, good economic infrastructure, efficient and transparent procedures and non-­discriminatory treatment of foreign and local businesses except in the areas of national security, culture and social affairs (GRUM 2016b). Priority areas identified included agro­industry, infrastructure, industry and tourism, as well as the promotion of technology transfer, human resource development, and small and medium enterprises. Special mention was made of the need for investments that would bring benefit to less developed regions. The policy also emphasised that both local and foreign investors must comply with a set of principles relating to responsible investment and business conduct. These policies were further elaborated in the 2018 Myanmar Sustainable Development Plan. The plan, which the government has positioned as a ‘living document’ to be revised every two years and monitored for the implementation of core development goals, emphasised the need for economic stability, private sector growth and job creation, as well as responsible management of resources, environmental protection and national reconciliation, peace and security (GRUM 2018).

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Like its predecessor, the NLD government has focused on improving the business climate for foreign investors. A key plank in this effort has been yet another reworking of the regulatory framework for investment. The Myanmar Investment Law of 2016, which consolidated and replaced the Foreign Investment Law of 2012 and the Myanmar Citizens Investment Law of 2013, further relaxed protocols around foreign transfers, introduced additional tax incentives targeted at particular industries, and reduced the proportion of investment proposals needing to be screened or approved (DICA 2018). Another new law, the Companies Law of 2017, provided improved protections for foreign interests involved in joint ventures as well as changes more generally designed to improve corporate governance. This law introduced corporate constitutions to replace inflexible articles/memoranda of association, provided new protections for minority shareholders, and relaxed the citizenship requirements for resident directors. It also decreed that foreign investors were permitted to own up to 35 per cent of a company before it was considered foreign-­owned. Despite these changes, however, Myanmar remained poorly placed on the World Bank’s 2018 Doing Business Report, which ranked it at 171 out of 190 countries for ease of doing business (World Bank 2017). It also continued to score lower in terms of its openness to foreign investment than most countries in Southeast Asia (Asian Development Bank 2018). Also like its predecessor, the NLD government foundered on the need to improve the country’s physical and social infrastructure. In terms of physical infrastructure, Myanmar continued to face serious problems including insufficient capacity for power generation and poor distribution networks, ports, rail, road and other transport infrastructure. These problems will likely take decades to overcome. Moreover, while the country has a young population and low labour costs when compared to other nations in the region, decades of neglect of investment in education and vocational training has resulted in an under-­supply of skills and technical capacity in the labour market. Without further development in its taxation system, the country is unlikely to be able to amass the funds required to make the level of investment needed to address these problems (OECD 2014). It is not surprising, then, that changes to the formal regulatory structure alone have not been sufficient to engender transformative change. Myanmar’s struggle with its physical and social infrastructure is reflected in a lack of stability in its economic outlook. Annual GDP growth fell from 8 per cent in 2014, to 7 per cent in 2015, to 6 per cent in 2016, before rising to close to 7 per cent in 2017, a level maintained in 2018 (Trading Economics 2020). FDI approvals fell from US$9.48 billion in 2015–16 to US$6.65 billion in 2016–17, and US$6.11 billion in 2017–18 (DICA 2017, 2018), reportedly in part because of the suspension of consideration of investment applications for several months while the new NLD government reviewed the composition of the Myanmar Investment Commission (Ardeth Thawnghmung and Robinson 2017). Actual FDI inflows fell to US$3.28 billion in 2015–16 and recovered to US$4.68 billion in 2016–17, before falling again to US$4.34 billion in 2017–18; but new approvals fell by over 50 per cent in the first half of the following financial year. This drop had significant implications

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for the manufacturing sector, which is heavily dependent on foreign investment (World Bank 2018b). The main sources of FDI to Myanmar in the 2017–18 financial year were Singapore (43 per cent), China (13 per cent) and Thailand (13 per cent) (World Bank 2018b). An additional layer of complexity comes from the fact that attempts to attract further foreign investment were being carried out in a context where the government was dealing with an ongoing crisis in Rakhine state over the fate of the Rohingya and simmering ethnic conflicts in other regions (see Chapter 17). The Rohingya issue has continued to dog the NLD government, with economic as well as political consequences. As the crisis worsened, Myanmar was faced with the possibility of the removal of its preferences under the European Union’s Generalized System of Trade Preferences after an expert mission visited the country. As the European Commissioner for Trade noted, authorities were ‘putting their country’s tariff-­free access to the EU market in danger – a scheme which has proved to be vital for the economic and social development of the country’ if they did not act (European Commission 2018). This threat was indeed significant, as the European Union has quickly become a major destination for Myanmar products, increasing its share of non-­oil and gas exports from 4.2 per cent in 2013 to 13.3 per cent in 2016. It was particularly serious for the textile and garment industry, which by 2017 accounted for as much as 72.2 per cent of Myanmar’s exports to the European Union (European Commission 2018). Internal crises cannot be separated from external economic and trade relations. Equally, it is also evident that concerns over the quality of Myanmar’s own institutions and the consistency of governance processes are linked to the prospects for national economic development and growth. While NLD policies have emphasised the need for accountability and transparency in economic governance and institutions (GRUM 2018), senior leaders lacked experience in governance and public administration and presided over a state bureaucracy that remains linked to former military governments in both personnel and administrative functioning. Moreover, there were concerns about the top-­down character of decision making within the NLD government (Ardeth Thawnghmung and Robinson 2017) and the effect of delayed policy announcements or ineffective implementation on business confidence (Chau 2018) – but also the unresolved question of the influence and governance of military-­owned conglomerates in the economy. Under the NLD government, military and crony-­capitalist firms remain the prime beneficiaries of economic liberalisation (Jones 2018). The NLD has made some attempts to mitigate some of the worst consequences of their privileged position. For example, it challenged land grabs that had taken place over several decades, where some government officers, military personnel and crony business associates took millions of acres of land from farmers. The Thein Sein government had set up structures to investigate but fewer than 6 per cent of the 17,000 cases those bodies reviewed were resolved (Belford et al. 2016). Upon gaining power, the NLD government formed a national ‘Reinvestigation Committee’ to re-­examine and redress land confiscation. It also undertook to resolve all remaining cases in its first year in office

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(Human Rights Watch 2018). However, it failed to meet this ambitious target. In a further attempt to deal with the issue, it amended the Vacant, Fallow and Virgin Lands Management Law in 2018 with the aim of clarifying land claims and tackling land rights abuses. The new processes were criticised for their potential impact on minority groups and unregistered users of ancestral lands, among others (Liu 2019). Meanwhile, the government has been careful to keep the cronies on side. In October 2016, Aung San Suu Kyi reassured some of the most prominent tycoons that their place in Myanmar’s economy and society was secure so long as they complied with government policy (Kyaw Lin Htoon 2017; Htet Naing Zaw 2016). In addition, the chairperson of the NLD’s Central Economic Committee has indicated the government’s primary strategy for managing the conglomerates is to continue to grow the economy such that their dominance is eventually reduced (Bello 2018). According to some observers, there have been improvements in some military-­owned conglomerates, including Myanmar Economic Holdings Ltd, which began transitioning to a public company structure in 2016 (Sithu Aung Myint 2017). Others have pointed out that the NLD government has imposed no penalties or sanctions for the past or future behaviour of the cronies (Bello 2018). According to Bello (2018: 57), the absence of a stronger response is explained by a range of factors including  Aung San Suu Kyi’s conciliatory posture, the NLD’s lack of a coherent economic strategy, the eagerness of transnational corporations to do business in Myanmar, and the international development establishment’s desire to effect a marriage between transnational capital and crony capital in the interests of economic growth.

Conclusion: future challenges The period since 2011 has been one of substantial policy and institutional reform, which has generated aggregate economic growth and increased domestic and foreign investment. Yet, despite this new economic dynamism, the quality of economic management in Myanmar is still weak and associated institutions underdeveloped. There also remain lingering doubts over the relationship between political and social stability and economic development. While policies now target poverty and inequality, the economic elites that grew and prospered under military governance have consolidated their power and protected their interests under more recent political regimes. The future challenges for economic policy formation and effective implementation are numerous. The agricultural sector remains a key plank in the economy, and its further development is vital. This requires the extension of rural credit, modernisation of practices and the implementation of measures to enhance security of tenure or land ownership. In a resource-­rich but underdeveloped economy, managing the environmental and social impact of development projects will also require the effective design and implementation of economic policy. Myanmar also

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faces significant challenges in mobilising resources and investment to address poverty, economic inequality and uneven development in a geographically and ethnically diverse nation, which continues to suffer from the legacies of decades of isolation under military rule. Resource-­based and extractive industries have contributed most to aggregate economic growth, but the benefits of this growth have not been distributed nor supported a significant expansion in employment. Growth of small to medium enterprises and in the services and manufacturing sectors will be essential for employment generation, as indeed has been evident (Mishra et al. 2018). However, more effective policies are required to support further integration with global value chains and address skills shortages but also to embed sustainable development practices and responsible business conduct. Such efforts will require an expansion of the government’s ability to provide various forms of social protection and safeguard workplace rights. At the same time, such measures would inevitably lead to tensions with business interests that prefer a low cost, export-­oriented regime. While important reforms over the last decade provide some cause for optimism, analysis of the political economy over many decades and under multiple political regimes reveals an ongoing chasm between the diagnosis of these fundamental problems and their effective treatment.

Notes 1 This chapter was written as part of Australian Research Project DP180101184, entitled ‘Global Production Networks and Worker Representation in Myanmar’. Authors made an equal contribution to the chapter and are listed in alphabetical order. 2 By 2018, the garment industry accounted for almost 3 per cent of GDP and had created nearly 730,000 jobs, of which over 83 per cent are held by women (World Bank 2018b). Most garment factories are located in some 30-odd industrial zones in the Greater Yangon region. Other locations with some concentration of garment manufacturing include Bago, Pathein, Hpa-­An and Mandalay.

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Bello, Warden 2018. Paradigm Trap: The Development Establishment’s Embrace of Myanmar and How to Break Loose. Amsterdam: Transnational Institute. Chau, Thompson 2018. ‘Midterm report card: Myanmar’s economy is not working’. Myanmar Times, 1 October. Available from: www.mmtimes.com/news/midterm-­reportcard-­myanmars-economy-­not-working.html. Cho Cho Thein and Tha Pye Nyo 2017. ‘ASEAN Economic Community and preparedness of Myanmar’s services sector: case of telecommunications services’. In Prabir De and Ajitava Raychaudhuri (eds) Myanmar’s Integration with the World: Challenges and Policy Options. Singapore: Palgrave Macmillan, 197–228. DICA (Department of Investment and Company Administration) 2017. Yearly Approved Amount of Foreign Investment. Available from: www.dica.gov.mm/sites/dica.gov.mm/ files/document-­files/fdi_yearly_by_sector.pdf. DICA (Directorate of Investment and Company Administration) 2018. ‘The actual amount of foreign direct investment (FDI) for 2017–2018 financial year [sic]’. Available from: www.dica.gov.mm/en/news/actual-­amount-foreign-­direct-investment-­fdi-2017-2018financial-­year. Economist Intelligence Unit 2016. ‘Twelve-­point economic “Plan” disappoints’, 4 August. Available from: http://country.eiu.com/article.aspx?articleid=1004473884&Country= Myanmar&topic=Economy&subtopic=Forecast&subsubtopic=Policy+trends&u=1&pi d=223829806&oid=223829806. Eurocham Myanmar (European Chamber of Commerce in Myanmar) 2019. Garment Guide 2020. Yangon: European Chamber of Commerce in Myanmar. European Commission 2018. ‘Myanmar: EU mission assesses human rights and labour rights situation’, 31 October. Available from: http://trade.ec.europa.eu/doclib/press/index. cfm?id=1936. Förch, Thomas 2018. ‘Banking and Finance’. In Adam Simpson, Nicholas Farrelly and Ian Holliday (eds) Routledge Handbook of Contemporary Myanmar. New York: Routledge, 202–11. Ford, Michele, Michael Gillan and Htwe Htwe Thein 2016. ‘From cronyism to oligarchy? Privatisation and business elites in Myanmar’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 46(1): 18–41. Ford, Michele, Michael Gillan and Htwe Htwe Thein 2017. ‘Labour standards and international investment in Myanmar’. In Melissa Crouch (ed.) The Business of Transition: Law Reform, Development and Economics in Myanmar. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 32–54. Fujita, Kōichi and Ikuko Okamoto 2009. ‘Overview of agricultural policies and the development in Myanmar’. In Kōichi Fujita, Fumiharu Mieno and Ikuko Okamoto (eds) The Economic Transition in Myanmar after 1988: Market Economy versus State Control. Singapore: NUS Press, 169–215. Gillan, Michael and Htwe Htwe Thein 2016. ‘Employment relations, the state and transitions in governance in Myanmar’. Journal of Industrial Relations 58(2): 273–88. GRUM (Government of the Republic of the Union of Myanmar) 2013. ‘Framework for economic and social reforms: policy priorities for 2012–15 towards the long-­term goals of the National Comprehensive Development Plan’. Available from: http://themimu. info/sites/themimu.info/files/documents/Ref%20Doc_FrameworkForEconomicAndSocial Reform2012-15_Govt_2013%20.pdf. GRUM (Government of the Republic of the Union of Myanmar) 2014. Myanmar Special Economic Zone Law, 2014. Available from: www.dica.gov.mm/sites/dica.gov.mm/files/ document-­files/sez_law.pdf. GRUM (Government of the Republic of the Union of Myanmar) 2016a. Economic Policy of the Union of Myanmar. Available from: https://themimu.info/sites/themimu.info/files/ documents/Statement_Economic_Policy_Aug2016.pdf.

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Mieno, Fumiharu 2009. ‘Characteristics of capital accumulation in Myanmar, 1988–2003’. In Kōichi Fujita, Fumiharu Mieno and Ikuko Okamoto (eds) The Economic Transition in Myanmar after 1988: Market Economy versus State Control. Singapore: NUS Press, 23–65. Mishra, Deepak, Saiyed Shabih Ali Mohib, Hans Anand Beck, Thi Da Myint, Arvind, Zaourak Nair, Roberto Gabriel, Thanapat Reungsri and Martin Kessler 2018. Myanmar Economic Monitor: Growth amidst Uncertainty. Washington, DC: World Bank Group. Available from: http://documents.worldbank.org/curated/en/111271527015535987/ main-­report. MNPED (Ministry of National Planning and Economic Development) 2014. National Comprehensive Development Plan: A Prosperous Nation Integrated into the Global Community 2030. Nay Pyi Taw: Ministry of National Planning and Economic Development. Mya Maung 1998. The Burma Road to Capitalism: Economic Growth versus Democracy. Westport, CT: Praeger. Myat Thein 2004. Economic Development of Myanmar. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. OECD (Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development) 2014. Multi-­Dimensional Review of Myanmar: Volume 2. In-­depth Analysis and Recommendations. OECD Development Pathways. Paris: OECD Publishing. Available from: http://dx.doi.org/10.1787/ 9789264220577-en. Pick, David, and Htwe Htwe Thein 2010. ‘Development failure and the resource curse: the case of Myanmar’. International Journal of Sociology and Social Policy 30(5/6): 267–79. Sithu Aung Myint 2017. ‘A year of delicate relations between the NLD and the Tatmadaw’. Frontier Myanmar, 19 March. Available from: https://frontiermyanmar.net/en/a-­yearof-­delicate-relations-­between-the-­nld-and-­the-tatmadaw. Steinberg, David 1992. ‘The role of international aid in Myanmar’s development’. Contemporary Southeast Asia 13(4): 415–32. Trading Economics 2020. ‘Myanmar GDP annual growth rate’. Available from: https:// tradingeconomics.com/myanmar/gdp-­growth-annual. Tsui, Winne 2016. ‘Myanmar rising: the garment sector takes off ’. HKTDC Research, 22 June. Available from: http://economists-­pick-research.hktdc.com/business-­news/ article/Research-­A rticles/Myanmar-­R ising-The-­G arment-Sector-­T akes-Off/rp/ en/1/1X000000/1X0A6IQS.htm. Turnell, Sean 2009. Fiery Dragons: Banks, Moneylenders and Microfinance in Burma. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. UNIDO (United Nations Industrial Development Organization) 2017. Myanmar: Strategic Directions for Industrial Development Summary of Industrial Development Strategy 2017. Available from: www.unido.org/sites/default/files/2017-06/_F_MYANMAR_SD_2017_0.pdf. Wood, Josh 2017. ‘Special Economic Zones: Gateway or Roadblock to Reform?’. In Melissa Crouch (ed.) The Business of Transition: Law Reform, Development and Economics in Myanmar. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 176–97. World Bank 2017. Doing Business 2018: Reforming to Create Jobs. Washington, DC: World Bank Group. Available from: http://documents.worldbank.org/curated/en/803361509 607947633/Doing-­Business-2018-Reforming-­to-Create-­Jobs. World Bank 2018a. World Bank Open Data. Washington, DC: World Bank. Available from: https://data.worldbank.org/. World Bank 2018b. (World Bank Group) December 2018: Myanmar Economic Monitor. Washington, DC: World Bank Group. Available from: http://documents.worldbank.org/ curated/en/986461544542633353/pdf/132847-REVISED-­MEM-Final.pdf. WTO (World Trade Organisation) 2018. Total Merchandise Trade Indicator. Available from: http://stat.wto.org/StatisticalProgram/WsdbExport.aspx?Language=E.

9 INDUSTRIAL POLICY AND SPECIAL ECONOMIC ZONES Engaging transformation in a globalised world Giuseppe Gabusi and Michele Boario

Introduction Since the 1960s, some countries in East Asia have implemented an export-­led industrialisation strategy resulting in sustained growth over the decades, following a developmentalist institutional framework. In a nutshell, countries like Japan (Johnson 1982), South Korea (Amsden 1989), Taiwan (Wade 1990) and even China (Gabusi 2017) intervened in their national markets with all sorts of industrial policies characterised by support for domestic companies combined with selected exposure to international markets. In other words, the state acted as a filter between the national economy and the global market – allowing some market incentives to percolate from the outside but avoiding disruption of the weak domestic industry. This mix of protection and encouragement of exports allowed these countries to enter a modernisation phase and become industrialised economies. Why did not Myanmar – still a predominantly agrarian economy – follow the same path? Why were industrial policies clearly ineffective, if the final aim was to create a sustainable manufacturing industry, leading the country to poverty-­reducing growth patterns? What are the available options for the future creation of a modern industrial sector? This chapter interrogates industrial policy in Myanmar to provide answers to these questions.

Myanmar under military rule: from autarky to cautious liberalisation (1962–2011) Myanmar’s military government approach to economic and industrial policies can be divided into two phases. In the first – which ran from 1962 to 1988 – the state adopted a socialist and autarkic vision best summarised by three concepts: Burmanisation (following the expulsion of the relatively large Indian community and the

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ban on foreign investments); nationalisation (with large opposition to private property); and state-­led industrialisation. The second (1988–2011) saw the military junta cautiously liberalising and opening up the economy to the private sector and to foreign capital. However, due also to sanctions imposed by the United States and Europe, Myanmar’s engagement with the global economy was rather limited – with one exception, China.

The Burmese way to socialism and import-­substitution strategies (1962–88) When General Ne Win seized power in March 1962, ending the brief period of civilian government, one of the first documents issued by the Revolutionary Council was The Burmese Way to Socialism. Clearly inspired by then-­fashionable Marxist approaches, it laid out the economic strategy for Burma’s development (Brown 2013: 133–5). Building on the three pillars of Burmanisation, nationalisation and state-­led industrialisation advocated by Aung San since independence (Brown 2013: 170) in 1963, the policy justified the state’s seizure of Burmese branches of British companies and the wiping out of the private economy: by early 1964, the whole production, distribution and trade became a state monopoly (Brown 2013: 135–8; Steinberg 1982: 77). The Indian community of merchants and traders was particularly hit, and nationalisation forced them to leave the country: the dismantling of the colonial economy was then complete. The Revolutionary Council pursued a strategy of state-­led industrialisation, aimed at obtaining self-­ sufficiency in manufacturing: by the mid-­1970s, a quarter of state investment was directed to this sector (Myat Thein 2004: 61). Every phase of production was managed by state committees (Tin Maung Maung Than 2007: 132–4). The efforts did not pay though: Brown (2013: 144) calculates1 that in ten years (up to 1971/72) ‘the real value of processing and manufacturing output’ had grown only by 7 per cent, indicating a clear waste of public money. Even the composition of manufactures did not change over that decade, with food and beverages accounting for a share of over 60 per cent (Myat Thein 2004: 107). In general, industrial plants were obsolete and – with restricted access to imports of spare parts and new machinery – highly inefficient (Brown 2013: 144–5). Finally, with the ban on foreign private investment, Burma embraced autarky. The failures of the modernisation push did not go unnoticed and in September 1972 the ruling Burma Socialist Programme Party (BSPP) adopted a new policy. The import substitution strategy did not change, but attention shifted to the need to give industrialisation a new start by processing Burma’s abundant natural resources, also for exports. As the bureaucracy supervising industrial policies in a command economy faced clear information and capacity problems, the policy advocated the introduction of material incentives, the admission of local (but no foreign) private capital, and the return of the country to foreign aid and borrowing (Brown 2013: 149–50). The state continued to invest in the sector, but the latter grew at a lower rate than the planned target, and actually shrank between 1986 and

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1988 (Tin Maung Maung Than 2007: 258). Moreover, between 1974/75 and 1987/88 the private sector thrived only in the smallest segment of companies – those employing fewer than ten people – while the number of private mediumand large-­scale companies diminished considerably, as at the same time the group of state-­owned enterprises (SOEs) increased from 411 to 489 (Brown 2013: 153, drawing on Tin Maung Maung Than 2007: 260–1).2 With no change or improvement in the administrative structure of the state, no further opening to imports, no financial discipline and no motivation in the workforce, the structural problems of the industry remained in place and the final outcome was then consequential: ‘from the mid-­1980s, Burma’s economy fell apart’ (Brown 2013: 154) and in 1987 the United Nations downgraded Burma to the status of ‘least developed country’. Opposition to any kind of involvement of foreign capital implied that Burma could not follow the same path of export-­driven growth fuelled by foreign direct investment pursued by other East and Southeast Asian nations. ‘Burmanisation’ of the economy could have probably worked differently if the government had relied more on private capital in the second decade of military rule, but as we have seen this was not the case: private business remained marginal, and the state continued to dominate the economy (Tin Maung Maung Than 2007: 275). As the government took to the anti-­colonial, xenophobic policy of liberating the economy from British and Indian interests, no effort was put in place to nurture a nascent indigenous business class that could thrive outside the state sector of the economy.3 Although in the 1970s the BSPP realised that something had gone terribly wrong in the management of the economy, the three pillars of Burmanisation, nationalisation and (state) industrialisation were never really put in question – until a new phase was set in motion.

The SLORC/SPDC years and benign neglect of private industry (1988–2011) After the brutal suppression of protests in August 1988, the military formed a new government under the name of the State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC) (rebranded in 1997 with a much more friendly label of State Peace and Development Council – SPDC). As far as economic policies are concerned, one of its first initiatives was the promulgation of a new law, the November 1988 Foreign Investment Law, which reversed the long-­term opposition to foreign capital, allowing foreign ownership of businesses operating in Myanmar, subject to approval by a Foreign Investments Commission (Kudo and Mieno 2009: 117). In March 1989, the SLORC embarked on a further series of market reforms, such as privatisation of some SOEs, the establishment of private commercial banks, the reopening of the Myanmar Chamber of Commerce and Industry, and the creation of the first industrial parks4 (for an exhaustive list of major economic reforms between 1987 and 1996 see Fujita et al. 2009: 5). Of course, economic reforms had to remain compatible with domestic political economy constraints; in other words, the new flow of investments in the end enriched and further empowered the military elite (Brown

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2013: 178), who had the main task of preserving security and order in the country. Once again, while the number of registered private industrial enterprises skyrocketed,5 the reform of SOEs was limited. From 1995 to early 2001, just 138 state-­owned assets were privatised, and 87 of them were cinema halls (Brown 2013: 180). Indeed, as in the early 2000s the Ministry of Industry 1 (responsible for light industry), the Ministry of Industry 2 (in charge of heavy industry), the Ministry of Agriculture and Irrigation and other economic ministries created new industrial enterprises, the privatisation drive lost steam (Brown 2013: 187). Actually, the number of public industrial enterprises increased from 597 in 1985 to 1,132 in 2002 (Kudo 2009: 77). Although GDP apparently – considering the low reliability of Myanmar’s statistics – grew fast in this period, the industrial sector actually contracted: in 2000 it represented 9.1 per cent of GDP, while in 1990 it accounted for 10.5 per cent (Myat Thein 2004: 182–3). Drawing on Asian Development Bank (ADB) indicators, Kudo (2009: 66–7) estimates that the GDP share attributed to secondary industry6 was 11 per cent in 1990, and 13 per cent in 2003; in comparison – evidence of a much stronger industrialisation transformation – the shares were 11 and 28 per cent in Cambodia, 15 percent and 26 per cent in Laos, and 23 per cent and 40 per cent in Vietnam (Kudo 2009: 66–7). An exception – indeed, the ‘sole exception’ of ‘made-­in-Myanmar’ industrial products (Kudo 2009: 70) – was the explosion of the garment sector. In the early 1990s, the obsolescence of the textile sector in their national economies brought many Hong Kong and Korean textile companies to establish joint ventures with military-­related textile and garment factories. Domestic firms entered the business in the mid-­1990s, but it was only at the end of the decade that local private interests were behind the industry boom in Yangon, when garments accounted for almost 40 per cent of Myanmar’s total exports, with a peak of US$ 868 million in 2001 (Kudo 2009: 79).7 The garment sector operated under the rather basic ‘cutting, making and packing’ (CMP) system, whereby foreign firms would supply all raw materials, domestic factories would do the processing and be paid a fee when the product was finished and exported to the international market; for this very reason – the absence of meaningful links with the rest of the economy – CMP created industrial ‘enclaves’ (Kudo 2009: 81–3). The sector was indeed driven by export incentives, building on Myanmar’s comparative advantage of a vast pool of low-­cost labour, and it grew out of a benign neglect of the state, as ‘the success of this sector was neither intended nor promoted by the government’ (Kudo 2009: 85). Indeed, SOEs were left undisturbed in the production of consumer goods and consumer durables, while in agro-­food industry – where the private sector had enough strength to compete – the government restricted the procurement of raw materials, thereby preventing private business from growing (Kudo 2009: 78). Rather than considering the private sector as a possible ally for the country’s development and co-­opt it – as was the case in developmental states in East Asia, including China (Gabusi 2017) – the government showed willingness to kill it before it could seriously threaten the economic foundations of the military regime.8 Just to make it clear who was to benefit from market reforms, the junta set

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up two huge military conglomerates, the Union of Myanmar Economic Holdings (UMEH) in 1990, and the Myanmar Economic Corporation (MEC) in 1997. Even the last round of privatisation before the 2010 elections benefited in the end a group of 12 to 15 cronies, individuals who maintained powerful connections with the military, and owned the biggest conglomerates in banking, infrastructure, transport, tourism and real estate (Lall 2016: 135–6). Development of the rest of the industrial sector was hindered by serious shortcomings. For a start, the share of public investment devoted to industry decreased from 36 per cent in 1980 to 18 per cent in 1985 to 6 per cent in 1999, with a record low investment in the 1990s (0.9 per cent in 1995, and around 2 per cent between 1996 and 1998) (Kudo 2009: 87). Second, even though a large share of investment went into infrastructure, the government invested less in the 1990s than in the second part of the 1980s, and above all this investment was not keeping the pace with GDP growth (Kudo 2009: 88). Third, SOEs – which monopolised the infrastructure sector – continued to be part of the state administration, receiving subsidies in case of financial losses, and sending funds to the coffers of the State Fund Account (SFA) in case of profits (Kudo 2009: 91). The lack of deregulation in the SLORC/SPDC years has possibly economic and political explanations. In fact, the system was so dysfunctional that any major reform would immediately send the economy into chaos, and powerful private interests were seen as a possible threat not only to the military’s wealth, but also to their political dominance (Brown 2013: 192). It did not help either that the West refused to collaborate with the military regime; even before the approval of American sanctions in 1997 and in 2003, all major US and European multinationals had abandoned their projects, even though investment from Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, Indonesia, Japan and China (especially in the 2000s) kept flowing into the country (Brown 2013: 195–6). However, the bulk of investment was in the oil and gas sector, another enclave with few connections to the rest of the economy. The physical and institutional infrastructure needed for the benefit (also) of investors was poor: electricity cuts and shortages were the norm, telecommunication services were expensive, regulations unclear and unstable, and corruption was widespread.9 In conclusion, the introduction of outside market incentives on the one hand allowed the set-­up of a private and export-­oriented garment sector, but on the other hand – due to the military’s reluctance to discuss the privileges of the state sector – failed to generate spillover effects that could benefit the rest of the economy and ignite a take-­off of the whole industrial sector. The creation of industrial zones (IZs) in the mid-­1990s also failed to reach this goal. The idea of creating the zones was to generate employment, expedite the process of industrialisation, and increase the efficiency and competitiveness with which the industrial sector operates (Lubeigt 2007). Unfortunately, inadequate government investment and the inward looking, isolationist policies of the Ne Win era greatly impeded the development of businesses in the IZs as well as the private sector in general. Moreover, zones were created with a top-­down approach. The army decided the location and forced the entrepreneurs to run their business inside

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the IZs – exactly the opposite of what is considered critical for a zone success. This type of government involvement influenced conditions for future users of the park (Saleman and Jordan 2014) and may have created well-­documented knowledge and incentive problems (Moberg 2017). To this day, the majority of IZs in Myanmar still fail to provide an optimal business operating environment. This is reflected in the decreasing percentage of active businesses currently operating within these zones. The IZs’ high rates of inactivity show few, if any, signs of new investment, since new businesses do not find it advantageous to initially locate and operate within these zones (Robertson and Seng Taung 2015). Infrastructure is poor, both skilled labour and credit are scarce and new technologies prove difficult to import. Corruption continues to keep the cost of operations high and the dearth of skilled labour also limits the use of more sophisticated industrial processes. Anecdotal evidence collected by UNIDO in 2015 shows that many business owners in the IZs do believe that they would be more competitive if they operated outside due to more lax regulation, closer proximity to consumers and a cheaper supply of electricity. Many business owners within the industrial zones are also concerned about the future. The price of labour will continue to rise as will the price of land if speculation is not upended through the enforcement of proper regulation. Nevertheless, the IZs have the potential to contribute to the industrialisation of the country. An analysis of Myanmar productivity carried out by the World Bank (2018) emphasised that firms operating inside the IZs are more productive than firms outside. A simple regression showed that the average firm size in industrial zones tends to be larger by 36 workers, a number that does not change when controlling for sector composition, while labour productivity is higher by 46 per cent, including when controlling for sector and region fixed effects, and the difference is significant. The conclusion of the World Bank’s study is that the main reason for the productivity premium in IZs appears to be better access to electricity. This analysis does not claim any causal effect, since the same firms might have managed to obtain electricity without locating in the IZs. The claim is simply that the correlation between IZs and productivity is mostly accounted for by the correlation of those two variables with access to electricity. However, the higher cost of electricity and other productive factors inside the IZs may explain the discontent expressed by so many entrepreneurs and the low performance of Myanmar industrial parks. Beyond these findings, if the challenges mentioned above are not dealt with in the near term, domestic firms cannot hope to evolve and be competitive against foreign competitors. A draft Industrial Zone Law – issued by parliament in 2019 – promised to address some of the most critical issues, including land speculation. The law is expected to be enacted in 2020 and provides clearer governance structure for the development of the industrial sector, as well as further encouragement to local and foreign investment (Thuzar Tin 2019). It should be stressed that IZs were not able to attract significant foreign investment when they were created in the mid-­1990s. It was only when Aung San Suu Kyi was released from house arrest and a semi-­civilian government took up the reins of the country that the western

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world embraced Myanmar as the new ‘El Dorado’ (Gabusi 2015: 53) or ‘the newest Asian mecca’ (Steinberg 2013: 205) for global capital. At the same time, Myanmar’s move towards a more open society was also prompted by the military’s desire to hedge its heavy dependence on China moving closer to the West (Lintner 2018).

Thein Sein and the USDP: engaging foreign capital (2011–16) When President Thein Sein started his mandate in 2011, it became clear – especially after Aung San Suu Kyi’s election to the parliament in 2012 – that the country was embarking on a transformative project that would create a more democratic and transparent political system, and a more open and efficient economy. The interaction between the US and China is arguably the most important external factor in explaining the inception of Myanmar reforms. The decision of the Obama administration to re-­engage with South East Asia and Myanmar – if the generals were showing progress in the democratic transformation – provided the political space for President Thein Sein to unlock the country from the exclusive Chinese influence and start the reform process. Internally, democratisation and human rights improvement were also the result of a strong request from the civil society organisations and the Myanmar people (Boario 2017). The Framework for Economic and Social Reforms (FESR) – adopted in 2012 – set out the goal of becoming a modern, developed and globally integrated country in the medium term (MNPED 2012), outlining four policy priorities for the new government: ‘sustained industrial development to catch up with global economies … equitable shares of resources … effective implementation of people-­centered development … and reliable and accurate gathering of statistical data’ (MNPED 2012: 23). The idea of catching-­up industrialisation was in line with the developmental experience of other East Asian nations, and its implementation needed the help of foreign capital. Therefore, in November 2012 the government enacted the new Foreign Investment Law and the Foreign Exchange and Management Law. In January 2014 a Special Economic Zone (SEZ) Law was promulgated, with relevant regulations published in 2015. Companies operating in the SEZs were allocated up to 75 years’ land-­use rights, were exempted from income tax for the first seven years, and then were also granted tax relief for a few more years. As free zones are treated as areas ‘outside the country’, companies are exempted from commercial or value-­added tax, and from customs duties on imports of raw and construction materials, and machinery (DICA 2019). SEZs were to be managed (top-­down) by a central body, a central governing body, and a management committee. Following the enactment of the law, planning started for the development of two SEZs: Thilawa, some 20 km from Yangon, and Kyaukpyu (on Ramree Island in Rakhine State). A third one, Dawei, in Tanintharyi Region, had actually already been established in 2008 (Lall 2016: 141). Matching the characteristics of these SEZs with the World Bank classification, they can be categorised as export-­ trading zones (ETZs) (FIAS 2008) with a clear division of labour: light manufacturing activities in Thilawa, heavy industries and manufacturing in Dawei, and

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petrochemical industry and manufacturing in Kyaukpyu. It is also interesting to note that each of the three SEZs are effectively a joint venture with a foreign country: Japan for Thilawa, Thailand for Dawei and China for Kyaukpyu. Since 2015, Japan has also shown interest in Dawei, committing US$800 million through the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA). In all cases, the establishment of the SEZs required extensive land-­grabbing, causing local (Pyae Phyo Maung and Wells 2018) and international (ICJ 2017) concerns. Moreover, in the case of Daiwei, local protests against an industrial site that would spoil the natural coastal landscape, infrastructural problems, and the lack of financial support convinced the Italian Thai Development Company working on the development of the zone to abandon the project in 2012. A new bid on a scaled-­down project was made in 2013, and the same company (deprived though of the Italian partner) won it. The plan was now to create a 27 km2 zone, to be developed in four phases (three phases of 7 km2 each, and one of 6 km2) (personal communication, n.d.). Another issue was also the proximity to Thailand, where local workers could find a job at a much higher wage (Lall 2016: 141). The Kyaukpyu SEZ includes a deep-­sea port, a power plant and petrochemical factories. In this case, the main concern is about the lack of spillover effects for the rest of the economy, as the SEZ seems to be serving the interest of China only – in fact, the port is connected to pipelines transferring oil and gas eastwards to China’s Yunnan province (Lall 2016: 142). Thilawa is a 2,400 ha SEZ, developed by Myanmar– Japan joint venture including a consortium among Japanese companies (including Mitsubishi, Sumitomo and Marubeni) and JICA. Japanese companies and aid agencies have invested much in the country, in continuity with the 1977 Fukuda doctrine aimed at projecting Japan as a civilian power and economic partner in Southeast Asia (Lall 2016: 156). The SEZ of Thilawa includes a port and a power plant, and with its proximity to the commercial hub of Yangon, the relatively good quality of infrastructure around the area, and the undoubtedly great interest from Japanese multinationals, is the most advanced and promising of the three.

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: implementing the ‘right’ industrial policy? Special economic zones as a tool for industrialisation Under the NLD government economic and industrial policies goals did not change significantly. While emphasising more responsible business and economic sustainability, the new government remained committed to the process of economic liberalisation, private sector development, social inclusion and sustainable industrialisation. The approval of new investment, corporate and financial laws by NLD in the period 2016–18 is clearly in the path of the reform process triggered by Thein Sein’s government. Economic reform continuity can be seen in terms of contents but also policymakers. The Myanmar Sustainable Development Plan (MSDP) approved in 2018 has been formulated under the supervision of the Deputy Minister of Planning and Finance, Set Aung, who also served in the same role

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under the previous government led by the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP). While the economic goals and strategies did not change, the reform pace suffered a significant slowdown, and loss of impetus and sharpness under the NLD government. Before the approval of the MSDP, NLD economic policies were criticised for the lack of detailed targets, clear priorities and action plans. The government weaknesses in implementing the new policies still undermine the reform process. The business community at both local and international level has turned increasingly critical towards the NLD leadership in policy implementation (Vakulchuk et al. 2017), and approved foreign direct investment (FDI) declined from US$9.48 billion in 2015–16 to US$4.4 billion in 2018–19 (DICA 2019). The continuity between Thein Sein’s economic policies and the approach to the economy adopted by the NLD government is evident also in the case of SEZs. However, recent developments show a mixed picture.10 As far as Dawei SEZ is concerned, in August 2015 the consortium led by the Italian Thai Development Company was joined by other companies, but progress was very slow on the ground, even though the project was upgraded to a long-­term objective to expand the area to 196.5 km2. Due to environmental concerns, and the absence of clear environmental plans, any proposal to construct a small port stopped, and all other components (liquefied natural gas terminal, industrial zone, power plant,11 residential area, telecommunication system, water reservoir12) stalled. Management has singled out the port, the power and the Kachanbur road upgrade as priorities for the next five years. On the financial side, the SEZ got a US$130 million loan from the National Science and Technology Development Agency (NSTD), the Thai national development agency. Once the loan agreement is finalised, and impact studies are conducted, the initial phase will probably be devoted to light manufacturing. After the deadly crackdown by Myanmar’s army on the Rohingya Muslim ethnic minority group in August 2017 and the consequent cooling of relations with the West, the pendulum of Myanmar international affairs swung once again towards China. Relevant consequences on Myanmar’s industrial strategies did not wait long to materialise. In November 2017 State Counsellor Aung san Suu Kyi announced the proposal to build a China-­Myanmar Economic Corridor (CMEC), as part of Beijing’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) (Nan Lwin 2018). A memorandum of understanding between the two countries was signed in September 2018 and the Kachin state authorities agreed to implement a new IZ in partnership with the Yunnan Tengchong Heng Yong Investment Company. A new economic development zone will be created in Myitkyina, in the Kachin State, after the signature to an agreement with China in early 2020. The project is worth US$400 million and will host more than 500 enterprises, active in agro-­processing, manufacturing and logistics, over an area of approximately 4,700 acres in Namjim village (Nan Lwin 2019). The visit of President Xi Jinping to Myanmar in January 2020 and the signature of a deal for the deep port of Kyaukpyu, worth US$1.3 billion, is another important step in the creation of the CMEC (Reed 2020). The large injection of capital

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e­ nvisaged represents a strong push to the SEZs strategy. Nonetheless, the real benefit for the country of these Chinese investments remains to be proved, considering existing issues of land grabbing and of social and environmental sustainability. On the basis of Thilawa’s success in attracting foreign companies (113 companies as of January 2020), SEZs might be an effective tool to facilitate industrialisation in Myanmar. The country badly needs infrastructure and capitals. Integration in global value chains is another critical need for the Myanmar economy. Supported by a strong incentive package, one-­stop shops and dedicated services, SEZs have the potential to meet the critical industrial needs of the country. However, the three existing SEZs can host only a limited number of companies, and should be considered a pilot to drive lessons for the creation of several others around the country. In this respect the top-­down approach that has characterised their creation should be reconsidered. Unfortunately, as of January 2020, there has been little debate about a new model to be followed in Myanmar. Evidence from the literature (Saleman and Jordan 2014) clearly shows that a majority of successful SEZs around the world were created with strong involvement of the private sector and early involvement of final users. Also, the most successful SEZs are more spaces of experimental reform rather than simple ETZs (Moberg 2017). The role of the government should be limited to providing a robust implementation and funding framework, while delegating the actual implementation to the private sector. The government should play a pivotal role only in monitoring the implementation and measuring the expected impact.

Conclusion: future challenges A mix of protection and encouragement of exports in the second half of the twentieth century allowed a number of Asian countries to enter a modernisation phase and become industrialised economies. Myanmar did not follow this path. The military regime of General Ne Win tried to reach manufacturing self-­ sufficiency and after banning all foreign investments embraced autarky leading the country to an economic catastrophe and widespread poverty. Despite a number of timid attempts to change such ill-­conceived policies in the 1980s and 1990s, it was only after the political election in 2011 that the country seriously embarked on a reform process to open up the economy and build on market forces. In a country with an overall weak investment climate, the creation of IZs and SEZs could prove to be a successful strategy to support the industrial development. Unfortunately, the approach followed for the creation of Myanmar IZs was excessively top-­down and, in most cases, failed to support the expansion of industrial production. Particularly in the IZs outside the two main economic poles, Yangon and Mandalay, no specific infrastructure was provided to the tenant companies. A zone-­internal road grid often consisted only of dirt roads, and in order to receive access to electricity, many companies needed to instal substations or transformers of their own or to rely on generators. The size and location of IZs were not based on profound feasibility studies. An active process

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of attracting specific investments or sectors (clustering) was not included in the process of developing an IZ – industrial entrepreneurs rather randomly decided to establish factories. Land speculation was and still is a frequent issue leaving plots for industrial investors blocked and vacant (UNIDO 2017). Nevertheless, there are also successful industrial parks in the country. Thilawa SEZ based on a public-­private partnership sponsored by Myanmar and Japan is attracting a growing number of foreign companies. But to use IZs and SEZs effectively as policy tools to support industrialisation, the country has to address a number of issues and revise its policies. The starting point for a new more successful policy direction for both IZs and SEZs is a revision of the respective role of the public and private sector in the creation and management of the parks. As in other areas of economic reform, the Myanmar government has to encourage the private sector to take the lead in identifying the location, size, management model, funding and other features of industrial parks that ultimately determine the investment choices of potential users. This approach minimises the risk, that IZs and SEZs might become ‘white elephants’ that contain no operational enterprises. In terms of the overall model, Myanmar should also encourage two other critical features – clustering and process integration. Myanmar’s high transaction costs necessitate the development of a large numbers of firms in industries where economies of scale, intra-­industry knowledge spillovers, forward and backward linkages, good supply chains and logistics, and other agglomeration effects can be achieved. By clustering together, similar firms reduce each other’s costs, improve productivity and reach new markets. IZs and SEZs should provide specialised facilities and services customised to the unique needs of the target enterprises, including access to finance and non-­financial services. The development of cluster-­based industrial parks, combining the positive agglomeration effects produced by the cluster development from one side, with the infrastructure and opportunities for economic diversification associated with the industrial zones from the other side, can yield significant economic and social payoffs for the country (Monga 2011). Based on approaches of development along economic corridors, the establishment of cluster­based industrial parks is suggested at centres along the corridors, at nodes (intersections between corridors) as well as in the border areas of Myanmar in order to establish patterns of economic cooperation between Myanmar and the adjoining countries (UNIDO 2017). Integrated agro-­food parks should also help to modernise agriculture and increase its productivity. The idea is to integrate various value chain components via the cluster approach and to facilitate linkages between the enterprises within the park and farmers in the surrounding catchment areas. Fresh farm feed and agricultural produce from rural transformation centres should be transported to agro-­food parks where the processing, management and distribution (including export) activities will take place. The clustering of processing companies leads to collective efficiency through economies of scale and knowledge spillovers. Of course, IZs, SEZs and cluster-­based integrated agro-­food parks alone cannot be appropriate substitutes for improving infrastructure and the general investment

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climate. SEZs represent a way to compensate for an overall poor investment climate creating attractive conditions in specific locations. As previously discussed, a number of challenges affect the investment climate in Myanmar. According to different business surveys, access to finance, weak infrastructure (including power shortage) and lack of skilled labour are the more relevant (UNIDO 2017). Nevertheless, poor institutional policy framework and weak governance mechanism within the government for industrial development are also huge challenges to be addressed and overcome. Although the government has been introducing a series of new policies and institutions, such as the (small and medium enterprise) SME Agency created in 2018, and a draft Industrial Zone Law in 2019, Myanmar still lacks the legal/institutional framework and policy mechanism needed to accelerate industrial development. So, the industrial policies neither meet demands from the industry nor regional or global standards and best practices. Many laws and regulations are legacies of the military regimes. Some have been newly drafted, but many have not yet been enacted. For example, as of January 2020, the draft Industrial Zone Law had not been passed. Similarly, four new intellectual property (IP) laws have been passed by parliament, but the new IP regime has not been fully implemented. And the State-­Owned Economic Enterprises Law enacted in 1989 is still valid despite the fast-­changing business environment in Myanmar. Also, due to the fragmented administrative structure, there is some complex legislation in the area of land, with more than 70 different laws (UNIDO 2017). Moreover, the governance structure within government is complex and highly fragmented, showing a lack of efficient and effective inter-­ministerial coordination. To conclude, we would like to propose some broader policy recommendations. Since the start of the reform process in 2011, overall Myanmar strategic and policy choices have been set in the right direction, but the key systemic issue that current and future Myanmar governments still have to revise and improve dramatically is the policymaking cycle. Several key principles should be understood and implemented by government officials and reform stakeholders. First, policy formulation and implementation should not be handled separately. They are part of the same process. Therefore, policy formulation cannot be left only to ministers and a few international consultants. Representatives of all stakeholders involved in a new policy implementation should participate from its inception (Andrews et al. 2015). In the case of business registration, for example, the Companies Law 2017 and related policies tried to streamline and simplify the process. But Myanmar SMEs have not been involved enough in policy formulation, and not been informed about the benefits of the new regulation. As a result, a large number of companies remain reluctant to leave the informal economy and the government struggles to implement the new policy (OECD/ERIA 2018: 359). Second, only a mechanism of trial and error can ensure that policies successfully address new problems that arise in the fast-­changing ecosystem of Myanmar. The government should acknowledge that a top-­down approach in creating IZs and SEZs was not successful and try a different model. Third, while it is easy to find best practices that worked well in other countries, a copy-­and-paste process would inevitably fail in addressing the

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specific problems of the highly fragmented Myanmar context. The Companies Law 2017, largely based on the Australian Corporations Act 2001, is an object of growing concern and complaints from the business community because it is too complex and advanced to be successfully implemented in Myanmar and applied by its weak judiciary system. Similarly, it is important to avoid the temptation to create institutions that just mimic the form of performing ones without developing the actual operational functions (Pritchett et al. 2013). This is often the case in Myanmar and other developing countries. Unfortunately many examples are available: one-­stop shops to start a business able to cover only a few of the many steps actually required to have a company running; or new uniforms provided to untrained police officers; or shiny new government buildings dedicated to interact with SMEs that are empty or severely understaffed; or advanced corporate laws unapplied due to lack of the skills required in the administrative and judicial system; and so on. Myanmar might look to Vietnam and Malaysia – not for coping – but to be inspired and kick start a serious discussion on policy reforms based on the principles herein proposed.

Notes   1 Calculations are actually made from Tin Maung Maung Than (2007: 127, Table 5.3).   2 Specifically, Brown (2013) draws on Tables 7.4, 7.5 and 7.6.   3 In comparison to other southeast nations, Myanmar should indeed have made an extra effort, as local private capitalists and business families were almost non-­existent (Brown 2013: 173).   4 Like the Shwe Pyi Tha Industrial Zone built in Yangon’s suburbs in 1990 (Kudo 2009: 70).   5 Drawing on data from the Ministry of Industry (1), Kudo (2009: 70) finds that this number went from 27 in 1990 to 41,875 in 2005.   6 It includes energy, mining, processing and manufacturing, electricity generation and construction (Kudo 2009: 68).   7 Since the main destination markets were the USA and the EU, American sanctions in 2003 hit the sector very hard: apparently, the ban on imports from Myanmar into the US market led to the shutdown of 160 garment factories, with the loss of 80,000 jobs (Brown 2013: 195).   8 For a brief summary of the military’s involvement in the economy see Bünte (2017).   9 The need to put in place a functional administrative system, and implementing clear legal rules is underlined by Khin Maung Kyi et al. (2000). 10 The updated information on the zones has been acquired through interviews with SEZ officials (Yangon and Thilawa, October 2018). 11 In the project, western companies (Total, Siemens and ADB) are involved. 12 The dam is finished, but the reservoir is not sufficient for industrial use.

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Vakulchuk, Roman, Kristian Stokke, Roman Vakulchuk and Indra Øverland 2017. Myanmar: A Political Economy Analysis. Norwegian Institute of International Affaires. Available from: https://reliefweb.int/report/myanmar/myanmar-­political-economy-­ analysis, accessed 20 December 2018. Wade, Robert Hunter 1990. Governing the Market: Economic Theory and the Role of Government in East Asian Industrialization. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. World Bank 2018. Growth amidst Uncertainty. Myanmar Economic Monitor, May 2018. Washington, DC: World Bank Group. Available from: https://openknowledge.worldbank. org/handle/10986/29917, accessed 18 December 2018.

10 AGRICULTURE AND THE RURAL ECONOMY The struggle to transform rural livelihoods Duncan Boughton, Ikuko Okamoto, SiuSue Mark, Ardeth Maung Thawnghmung, Theingi Myint and Tin Htut Oo

Introduction Agriculture and rural life are always inseparable. Agriculture plays a central role in Myanmar’s economy and society, accounting for 26 per cent of GDP and 50 per cent of employment in 2017 (World Bank 2018). Patterns of agricultural production in Myanmar reflect the country’s wide diversity of ecologies. These can be broadly grouped into lowland and hilly zones, with the former divided into coastal, inland delta and the dry zone. In 2015, despite a reduction in poverty rates from 48.2 per cent to 32.1 per cent during the previous decade, an estimated 13.8 million poor people (87 per cent of the total poor population) lived in rural areas, compared to 2 million poor people in urban areas (MOPF and World Bank 2017).1 Since agriculture is the backbone of any rural economy, diagnosing the causes of low performance in agriculture will go a long way to understanding the drivers of rural poverty. Key features underlying Myanmar’s relatively high rural poverty rate are small average farm size, skewed distribution of land access and high rates of landlessness, low levels of production per unit of land and labour, very high interest rates for informal credit sources, and limited diversification away from low value staple crops to higher value enterprises like fruit, vegetables, aquaculture and livestock production (Haggblade et al. 2014). The co-­evolution of agriculture and rural life depends very much on political economy factors. Most governments, while they prioritise food security, often define it differently at various stages of economic development. In Myanmar, food security has until recently been implicitly defined as an abundant supply of affordable rice for the population. Besides food security, governments in developing countries typically look to agriculture and the rural economy as a source of foreign exchange earnings (for the development of other sectors of the economy) and tax revenue. These two objectives, food security and resource extraction ­dominated

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Myanmar’s agricultural policy for 50 years during the military government period. The means by which these objectives were pursued, and the degree of success achieved, varied over time as successive governments sought to navigate the competing and unpredictable currents of central planning and market economy approaches. Only with the advent of the Thein Sein government in 2011, and the realisation that rural voters were now a key political constituency, did rural economic growth to promote welfare of the population become an explicit policy goal. The following sections examine how over the past 60 years the interaction between government policies on agricultural technology, trade and migration shaped agriculture and rural livelihoods in Myanmar. After a long struggle with isolation and economic repression, rural populations are finally beginning to see a transformation in their economic circumstances and opportunities. Progress is, understandably, uneven across geographies and household resource endowments. Looking to the future, Myanmar’s abundant water2 and land resources provide enormous potential to respond to the growing demand for more diverse food from regional neighbours with a combined population of 2.5 billion. But to be competitive in these markets, Myanmar’s agricultural production and marketing systems will need to look very different from those of the past. Decades of neglect in building agricultural research and farmer education systems, as well as logistics and infrastructure, must be quickly overcome if opportunities are to be realised.

Myanmar under military rule: resource extraction from agriculture and the rural economy The half century of military rule can be divided roughly into two periods. During the first period from 1962 to 1988, often referred to as the Burmese Way to Socialism, the government was seeking to directly manage economic development with a focus on industrialisation and food security. The government emphasised self-­ sufficiency in food supply so as to conserve foreign exchange, while the promotion of industrialisation required low wages which in turn required low food prices, especially for rice (since food accounts for a high proportion of worker expenditures and rice the major source of calories in the food basket). During the second period, from 1988, referred to as the transition to market economy, the government was seeking to overcome the economic stagnation brought about by state management of the economy through engagement with international markets, a hybrid strategy made even more challenging by international sanctions. To achieve low food prices the government imposed tight controls on the agricultural sector with profound implications for agriculture and rural livelihoods. The government focused heavily on rice as both the major food staple and the largest source of export earnings (Okamoto 2009). Farmers were obliged to grow paddy on all land that had been classified and mapped as suitable for rice production, and they were obliged to sell a quota at below market prices to the government (which then rationed sales of subsidised rice to consumers). A similar policy was used for other food staples, like oilseed.

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In the second half of the post-­independence period of military rule, the government sought to harness the wind of international markets to fill the country’s slack economic sails. Imports of edible oils and exports of pulses were liberalised. This resulted in considerable changes in relative crop prices and cropping patterns, leading to a boom in the pulse sector which grew from a negligible quantity to a billion dollar a year export sector in just ten years (Okamoto 2008; Boughton et al. 2018a). Rice was the exception, with tight controls remaining in place and farmer profits eroded still further by rising input costs as subsidies were curtailed (Okamoto 2009). Rather than allow rice prices to rise to international levels as a means to encourage farmers to increase yields, the government expanded the area that could be irrigated in the post-­monsoon season and hence produce two crops per year. Furthermore, farmers were exempted from selling a portion of their second paddy crop to the government at below market prices. The procurement system was finally abolished in 2003/4 (Okamato 2009; Theingi Myint et al. 2017). Pro-­market reforms after 1988 have been characterised as state-­mediated capitalism: ‘a state-­linked business class and crony capitalism, and the emergent symbiosis between big business and the state’ (Jones 2014: 145). This convergence of interests between the regime’s belief in modernising the country and the state-­ capital symbiosis was apparent in the way the regime promoted industrial agriculture, including rubber, palm oil and aquaculture products. Instead of a more inclusive smallholder model of plantation agriculture, the government opted for a strategy of land concessions for large companies, often owned by the military (Byerlee et al. 2014). Under the 1991 ‘Wasteland Instructions’ (Notification No. 44/91), which permitted leases of up to 50,000 acres for agribusiness, and the 1989 Aquaculture Law, which regulated aquaculture farms, the regime reclaimed and reallocated to investors what it deemed to be ‘wasteland’ or land for which it deemed no use rights had been granted by the state. At the same time, the government initiated ceasefire agreements in 1989 between the central government and ethnic armed organisations, in part to promote the expansion of the market economy to border areas (Zaw Oo and Win Min 2007; Woods 2011). The promotion of agribusiness, coupled with the military’s takeover of community land for defence purposes and income-­generation activities, all led to extensive land confiscation across the country (KESAN 2012; HURFOM 2013). A study from the Mekong Region Land Governance (MRLG) project, an unofficial, but credible source, estimates that from 1991 to 2016, the total amount of land granted to individual investors, companies, associations and military individuals or units totalled 2,091,543 ha (San Thein and Diepart 2018). Of that, 70 per cent was allocated before 2012 with three-­quarters of the area classified as vacant, fallow and virgin (VFV) land, while the rest was reserve forest. This is much higher than the highest amount reported by the government in recent years (1,383,120 ha reported in 2012). The MRLG found that only 14.9 per cent of the VFV land granted to investors was actually cultivated.

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Thein Sein and the USDP: towards investment in agriculture and the rural economy Despite limited optimism about prospects for change at the time of inauguration, the Thein Sein mandate saw key drivers of change in agriculture and rural life reach critical inflexion points. In 2012, the government at last completely liberalised international rice trade, arguably the most politically sensitive of agricultural commodities in Myanmar and the region. In 2013, President Thein Sein described Myanmar’s transition to open markets as ‘moving from a state-­centered and isolated economy to one that is based on free-­market principles and is integrated into world markets’.3 The liberalisation of mobile phone services led to an explosion in smartphone access that in turn unblocked the rural population’s access to information and markets (including financial services) in ways that had been inconceivable only a few years before. Migration from rural areas to cities, as well as to foreign destinations, accelerated dramatically. Labour scarcity and increases in rural wages led to a revolution in the mechanisation of farm operations, especially for land preparation and rice harvesting. Farmers began to sell their draft animals and invest the proceeds in higher education for their children to equip them for urban salaried employment. In selected areas, such as the dry zone, the government significantly increased investment in rural infrastructure and access to secondary education in rural areas (Belton et al. 2017). The Thein Sein government came into power under the shadow of Cyclone Nargis. The massive destruction of lives, property and production capacity in the delta area, the country’s rice basket, had revealed just how vulnerable rural populations were. Even farmers who were not directly affected by Cyclone Nargis or other natural calamities found themselves mired in a cycle of debt due to low yields and low prices for paddy, with a large share of any profit going to pay interest to local moneylenders (Dapice et al. 2011). With the expansion of the political franchise came increasing realisation on the part of the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP) government that farmers were not just labour supply for paddy production but a political constituency whose aspirations for material improvement should be a policy objective. For the first time, the existence of rural poverty and the need to do something about it was publicly acknowledged. The approach of the Ministry of Agriculture and Irrigation (MOAI), under the direction of a former senior general, U Myint Hlaing, was to modernise the country’s rice production. The minister, who had previously overseen a hilly region close to the border with China where hybrid rice gave high yields and enjoyed a ready market across the border, mandated the diffusion of hybrid rice in every rice growing area of the country. The strategy was neither popular nor successful with farmers, as hybrid rice varieties did not perform as well in the predominant lowland ecologies. The eating quality was poor and prices on the domestic market low compared to existing varieties in use. A second approach to modernisation was to improve the effectiveness of irrigation and introduce farm mechanisation, especially combine harvesters. Irrigation

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schemes close to Nay Pyi Taw were consolidated, levelled, and access to farm roads improved. Farmers were provided with land preparation and combine harvester services by the MOAI’s agricultural mechanisation division. But the approach did not extend far beyond a few model schemes in the capital city. Furthermore, the minister refused to support smallholder diversification into more profitable crops besides rice. A famous poster in the entrance hall to MOAI proudly announced that ‘Rice is our economy; Rice is our policy; Rice is our life’. The minister went so far as to allow overseas graduate training for ministry staff only if they conducted research on rice, while students already overseas were told to come home if they could not comply. Unable to convince the politically powerful Minister for Agriculture and Irrigation to support smallholder farmers in the development of alternative and more profitable agricultural enterprises, President Thein Sein established a new Ministry of Livestock, Fisheries and Rural Development (MLFRD) to help smallholders diversify and increase their farm incomes. The new ministry’s staff were nearly all engineers whose expertise lay in road building, dam construction and off-­grid energy. The livestock and fisheries departments had very limited capacity to provide extension services to farmers beyond health and disease management. And the land law did not allow for paddy land to be used for any other crops or for aquaculture or livestock. Well intentioned as the motives were for establishing a new ministry to focus on smallholder profitability, successes on the ground were modest given its staffing and the restrictions on freedom of choice in farming activities. The Thein Sein government also sought to increase export earnings through a National Export Strategy (NES) led by the Ministry of Commerce (MOC) in collaboration with the relevant private sector associations of the Union of Myanmar Federation of Chambers of Commerce and Industry (UMFCCI), the apex organisation for chambers of commerce and industry. Commodity-­specific strategies were developed for rice, rubber and pulses. These strategies tended to focus on quality improvement and market diversification. Heavy dependence on a few, low quality markets (e.g. China for rice and rubber, India for pulses), leaves the country exposed to low margins and high levels of price volatility. The lack of collaboration between MOAI and MOC meant that there was no coordination between efforts to modernise farm-­level production and efforts to modernise downstream value added processing. The lack of coordination between traders and producers meant that farmers received no price incentives for increasing the quality of their production. Arguably the most effective changes introduced by the government, in terms of quick wins for farmer welfare, were in the area of finance. Microfinance schemes were first introduced in 1997 under a UNDP project (Turnell 2009). The Microfinance Law enacted in November 2011 formally recognised microfinance schemes as legitimate financial institutions. This resulted in a major increase in the number of microfinance institutions providing loans to rural areas. The government also expanded its own credit activities through the Myanmar Agricultural Development Bank (MADB) and through the Ministry of Cooperatives. The MADB focused on

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expanding the supply of seasonal credit for paddy production at much lower rates than moneylenders (8 per cent per annum compared to 8 per cent per month), while the Ministry of Cooperatives used a loan from China’s EXIM bank to provide medium-­term credit for investment by farmer associations. Together these interventions led to a reduction of approximately 3 per cent in monthly interest rates (Belton et al. 2017). The International Monetary Fund stated in its Country Report No. 12/104 issued in 2012 that ‘[t]he planned land reform provides a unique opportunity to grant land titles that can be used as collateral for borrowing, a key impediment for private bank lending to agriculture’. The USDP government prioritised the passage of the Farmland Law and the Vacant, Fallow, Virgin Lands Management Law (the VFV land law) in 2012 to promote higher flows of financing into the agriculture sector. The Farmland Law broke from its socialist past by cancelling laws such as the 1953 Land Nationalization Act and commodified land use rights. To free up ‘unproductive land’ for investment, the VFV land law, an extension of the 1991 Wastelands Instructions, leased plots up to a maximum of 50,000 acres to domestic and foreign investment for agribusiness. During this time, the government also carried out a donor-­supported process to develop the National Land Use Policy (NLUP), which lasted from 2013 until its adoption in January 2016. In contrast to its decades of authoritarian rule, this process was generally recognised as one of the most inclusive policymaking processes ever used in Myanmar. Although it did not meet all the demands of land rights activists, the final version of the policy contains specific provisions that address some of the long-­standing concerns about land in the country, including: redress for land confiscation, recognition of customary land, participatory land use planning, gender-­ equity and the need for effective dispute resolution. Furthermore, in an effort to strengthen legitimacy, the government formed the Parliament Land Confiscation Inquiry Commission in 2012 to undo some of the land confiscation that had occurred under the military regime. The commission received roughly 35,000 complaints and reviewed 6,445 of them (Eleven Media, 7 October 2014). In February 2014, the commission issued a report recommending the return of 512,204 acres of land in 745 cases deemed to have been improperly seized by the military, the government and individuals (Eleven Media, 11 April 2014). The parliament had to rely on the military-­controlled General Administrative Department (GAD), which controls all levels of government, to implement these recommendations. A lack of checks to its power enabled elites to retain or appropriate returned land for themselves (Namati 2015). Therefore, despite high expectations from rural communities, the Thein Sein government saw little progress in this area.

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: charting a new course despite headwinds When the NLD came into power in April 2016, many of the reforms initiated by the previous government had yet to bear fruit in terms of tangible improvements in

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rural livelihoods. Many of the NLD’s policy thinkers had little understanding of the role of agricultural and rural development in the broader economic development process, or the policies and public investment necessary to enable it, having spent much of the period of Asia’s ‘green revolution’ in prison. In anticipation of the new government taking office, a handful of national and international technical staff prepared a strategy paper under the leadership of Tin Htut Oo, a presidential advisor to Thein Sein and chair of the National Economic and Social Advisory Council (NESAC). The work was published in Myanmar and English in a discussion paper titled ‘From rice bowl to food basket: a new vision for agriculture and the rural economy’ (NESAC 2016). The paper explained, first, how changes in urban consumption patterns in Myanmar and Asia were transforming market opportunities for Myanmar farmers and agribusinesses; and second, identified some of the changes in policies and public investment needed to seize those opportunities. The NLD government warmly received the white paper, and a series of seminars were arranged for new union and regional officials. A key innovation of the NLD was to form a new Ministry of Agriculture, Livestock and Irrigation (MOALI) from three former ministries of the Thein Sein government: the MOAI, the MLFRD and the Ministry of Cooperatives. Intended to simplify and reduce the costs of government, the combination made the task of the incoming Minister, Dr Aung Thu, a mathematician and former university rector, even more challenging. Among a chorus of competing offers of assistance, he accepted the Asian Development Bank’s (ADB) offer of help to develop an Agricultural Development Strategy (ADS), a requirement to apply for a grant from the Global Agricultural Food Security Program (GAFSP), an international trust fund managed by the World Bank. Wary of any increase in government indebtedness, the idea of competing for a grant rather than a loan was very attractive to the NLD. Consultants were duly hired by the ADB and an ambitious, comprehensive and polished strategy was delivered in record time to meet the 9 January 2017 deadline for the GAFSP proposal submission. The new strategy effectively provided MOALI with a more detailed roadmap of the NESAC white paper. Unfortunately, given the time constraints, there was very little participation from government staff in the preparation process, and hence very little awareness of what the new strategy entailed. It was not only ministry officials who had been left out of the process in the rush to meet the GAFSP proposal deadline. Civil society representatives prevailed upon the minister the importance of conducting regional consultations with farmers and rural stakeholders before finalising the strategy. The completion of regional consultations and incorporation into the final version of the strategy took a further 18 months. By the time the strategy was finally launched on 7 June 2018, Myanmar and the NLD government were dealing with a very different set of challenges as a result of the Rakhine crisis, as well as collapsing prices for one of Myanmar’s major agricultural exports due to the imposition by India of import restrictions on pulses.4 At the same time as the ADS was under preparation the new minister for MOALI developed a new vision and policy statement with his senior managers. The vision

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was to achieve: ‘An inclusive, competitive, food and nutrition secure and sustainable agricultural system contributing to the socio-­economic wellbeing of farmers and rural people and further development of the national economy.’ (MOALI 2017). This vision now puts farmer and consumer welfare at the centre of its programming, along with internationally competitive value chains. In a major shift from the policies of the previous 60 years, agriculture and the rural economy are now seen as intrinsically valuable in their own right rather than as a sector to be exploited in the pursuit of other sectoral or political goals. Another challenge for MOALI is that the sectoral ADS and the Multi-­Sectoral National Plan of Action for Nutrition (MS-­NPAN) developed along parallel tracks. This was in part a question of timing (the ADS process was initiated earlier than MS-­NPAN) and in part due to inter-­ministerial coordination (the MS-­NPAN process was led by the Ministry of Health and Sports). As a result, the final version of the ADS did not adequately incorporate the contribution expected from MOALI to the goals of the MS-­NPAN. This contribution is currently being retro-­fitted into the ADS with assistance from the European Union (EU) in the form of technical expertise provided through the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) and a €70 million budget support contribution for MOALI to implement MS-­NPAN regional strategies in Ayeyawaddy and Shan, two regions with high levels of malnutrition. The Nutrition Sector Reform Contract for budget support is expected to be signed in mid-­2020. Development of the ADS and MS-­NPAN processes have placed enormous administrative burdens on the Department of Planning of MOALI, and especially the new Agricultural Policy Unit, which has ended up devoting almost all its limited human resources on administrative support for development partner engagement rather than for policy analysis. With a new policy and strategy in place, and the ADS and MS-­NPAN on track to being harmonised, the emphasis is finally turning to implementation only towards the end of the NLD’s mandate. A major challenge is how to implement a new, forward-­looking strategy with a ministry that is still organised and staffed to perform the functions of the previous centrally planned approach. This challenge is made more difficult by the fact that not all department line managers are excited to embrace the new strategy due to the implications for their budgets. The task of retooling professionals and reshaping the ministry’s internal organisation and coordination to successfully implement the ADS will require nothing short of a complete renovation. It will also require considerable decentralisation to allow each region the opportunity to exploit its comparative advantage in different types of agricultural production and markets. Realistically, it will require another 5-year political mandate to begin to get to grips with these challenges. Even as the new agricultural strategy underwent a two-­year gestation period, the drivers of change at farm level and in rural areas that had already begun to pick up speed during the Thein Sein administration now accelerated further. Migration from the key agricultural regions of the delta and the dry zone accelerated sharply from around 2010 onwards, particularly to cities within Myanmar, with approximately 80 per cent of migration in both zones having taken place since this date.

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Real daily wages rose dramatically in both zones, jumping by one more than one-­ third from 2012 and 2016 (Win and Thinzar 2016). Trends in agricultural mechanisation, linked closely to migration and rising real wages, took off during this period. For example, in the delta and the dry zone, levels of combine harvester use in dry season paddy cultivation climbed from almost nothing in 2011/12 to 70 per cent and 41 per cent in 2016/7, respectively (Boughton et al. 2018b). Surprisingly, there appears to have been little if any improvement in farm yields or profitability to date. The lack of progress in this regard is due in part to the very small size of the Myanmar research system coupled with the ineffectiveness of agricultural extension services. Furthermore, many improved varieties released by the research system have achieved very limited penetration among the farming community due to lack of promotion by extension and an under-­developed seed multiplication and marketing system (Boughton et al. forthcoming). Reflecting the prioritisation of smallholders, the NLD’s 2015 Election Manifesto stated ‘We will strive, in accordance with the law, to ensure the return to farmers of illegally lost land, and payment of compensation and restitution’ (NLD 2015). After taking office in April 2016, the NLD set up an executive committee to continue the efforts initiated under the USDP government and issued a new set of guidelines in June 2016 in an effort to speed up the resolution of the confiscation cases. Due to the persistence of structural issues similar to those encountered by the USDP government, only 10 per cent of the over 5,700 complaints received by the committee were reported to have been resolved by November 2017 (Myanmar Times, 12 December 2017). At the same time, demonstrating a concern with the productivity of agricultural land, the NLD government started to reclaim unused land from concessionaires in 2016 and 2017. As of early 2018, a source advising the NLD estimated that 1.4 million acres (GAD township sources put the figure at 1.6 million acres) had been identified for return to farming communities (email from an NGO advising the NLD, January 2018). As this programme is still in the early stages, it is not yet known how it has impacted on rural communities. The NLUP remained dormant in the first two years of the NLD government, until the National Land Use Council (NLUC) was formed in January 2018. Chaired by Vice President Number 2, the council has 27 members, which includes ten ministers, 14 chief ministers, and the head of the Myanmar Investment Commission. The minister of the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environmental Conservation (MONREC) serves as the secretary. At the union level, it will form an advisory group and three working committees to manage (1) the formulation of the national land law; (2) land use planning and coordination; and (3) the development of a single land information management system. The council’s mandate is to strengthen its various land institutions and to draft the National Land Law, which is meant to reduce the conflicts and contradictions within its legal framework by harmonising the dozens of land laws that were developed under different regimes of rule (Mark 2016).

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Conclusion: future challenges Agriculture and rural life in Myanmar already looks radically different from a decade ago. Centuries of reliance on draft animals for land preparation, threshing and transport will soon be a distant memory as tractors, combine harvesters and other mechanised equipment replace oxen. But gone too are many young people who equate agriculture with drudgery, poverty and backwardness. New market opportunities are opening up due to growing urban consumer demand for higher value fish, meat, poultry, dairy, fruit and vegetables, as well as regional demand for high value products like beef. As in all countries, agriculture will increasingly be a business rather than a way of life. The ability to engage a new generation of commercially oriented farmers will be critical to taking advantage of these opportunities. Success in adaptation to new opportunities is never guaranteed. Other countries have allowed agriculture to decline, leaving rural hinterlands that are hollowed out of youth, entrepreneurship and economic vitality. What will it take for Myanmar’s agricultural sector to become more productive and profitable? We identify five overarching requirements, each of which will require region-­specific targeting and delivery approaches according to agro-­ecological and market opportunities: 1

2

3

4

5

continued expansion and improvement of rural infrastructure, health services and secondary and tertiary education, especially in hilly and coastal zones where poverty and malnutrition are highest. These investments will drive down costs of market access to urban demand centres, improve incentives for young people to stay in rural areas, and equip those who want to leave with more remunerative and safer employment options; expansion of agricultural research to address integrated farming (crop, livestock, aquaculture), and modernisation of extension services through expanded use of ICT delivery methods, while harnessing the complementary roles of the private, civil society and public sectors in expanding access to improved and more sustainable farm production technologies; expanded access to financial services for farmers, machinery service providers, agro-­processors, cold storage and packaging facilities, with expanded engagement of private sector banks using loan guarantees and insurance products; expansion of opportunities for farmers to increase their value of output through conversion of paddy land to higher value agricultural enterprises (‘freedom to farm’), improved surface and groundwater management, strengthened land tenure security while allowing for voluntary consolidation of land holdings as smallholders exit farming; strengthened quality and food safety in domestic and export-­oriented value chains, and engagement with supermarkets and wholesalers to expand locally sourced supplies of quality food products for urban populations.

Myanmar may still have time to close the productivity and value-­added gaps in its agricultural sector and thereby maintain economically vibrant rural areas. But the

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scale and scope of investment, as well as the speed of implementation, need to increase rapidly. For this to occur the next government should pursue much faster modernisation and decentralisation of agricultural public service provision through active collaboration between union and regional governments as well as between private and public sectors. Development partners could also help improve the effectiveness of government agencies by reducing the administrative demands they place on government agencies, as well as through more effective coordination.

Acknowledgements Duncan Boughton gratefully acknowledges the support of the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) and the Livelihoods and Food Security (LIFT) Fund through grants to Michigan State University, and the Fulbright Program for a Fulbright Scholar grant to teach at Yezin Agricultural University.

Notes 1 Rural poverty rates vary considerably by region, with higher rates in coastal and hilly areas (44 per cent and 40 per cent respectively) and lower rates in the dry zone and delta areas (32 per cent and 26 per cent respectively). 2 Myanmar has 1,082 km³ of surface water inflows and 495 km³ of groundwater inflow (www.wepa-­db.net/policies/state/myanmar/myanmar.htm, accessed 8 February 2020). Yet lack of water management infrastructure means that many households struggle to access water despite ‘abundance’. 3 Chatham House, ‘Myanmar’s Complex Transformation: Prospects and Challenges’, 15 July 2013. Available at: www.chathamhouse.org/sites/files/chathamhouse/public/Meetings/ Meeting%20Transcripts/150713Sein.pdf (accessed 8 April 2018). 4 To show the dependence of Myanmar on the India market for pulse exports, India purchased 92 per cent of pigeonpea exports and 80 per cent of black gram exports in 2016–17.

References Belton, Ben, Mateusz Filipski, Chaoran Hu, Aung Tun Oo and Aung Htun 2017. ‘Rural transformation in Central Myanmar: results from the rural economy and agriculture dry zone community survey’. Food Security Policy Research Paper 46. East Lansing, MI: Michigan State University. Available from: http://foodsecuritypolicy.msu.edu/resources/ rural_transformation_in_central_myanmar. Boughton, Duncan, Nilar Aung, Ben Belton, Mateusz Filipski, David Mather and Ellen Payongayong 2018b. ‘Myanmar’s rural economy: a case study in delayed transformation’. Food Security Policy Research Paper 104. East Lansing, MI: Michigan State University. Boughton, Duncan, Steven Haggblade and Paul Dorosh 2018a. The challenge of export-­led agricultural growth with monopsonistic markets: the case of Myanmar’s pulse sector and trade with India’. Food Security Policy Research Paper 105. East Lansing, MI: Michigan State University. Boughton, Duncan, Simrin Makhija, Mywish Maredia, David Mather, David Megill, David Ortega, Ellen Payongayong, Lavinia Plataroti, David J Spielman, Marja Thijssen and

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Myat Thida Win forthcoming. ‘Variety adoption and demand for quality seed in the central dry zone of Myanmar’. Food Security Research Paper. East Lansing, MI: Michigan State University. Dapice, David O, Thomas J Vallely, Ben Wilkinson, Malcolm McPherson and Michael J Montesano 2011. Myanmar Agriculture in 2011: Old Problems and New Challenges. Boston, MA: Ash Center for Democratic Governance and Innovation, John F Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University. Haggblade, S, D Boughton, K M Cho, G Denning, R Kloeppinger-­Todd, Z Oo, T M Sandar, T M Than, N E M A Wai, S Wilson, N W Win and L C Y Wong 2014. ‘Strategic choices shaping agricultural performance and food security in Myanmar’. Journal of International Affairs 67(2): 55–71. HURFOM (Human Rights Foundation of Monland) 2013. ‘Disputed territory: Mon Farmers’ fight against unjust land acquisition and barriers to their progress’. Available from: http:// burmacampaign.org.uk/media/Disputed-­Territory.pdf, accessed 17 January 2015. Jones, L 2014. ‘The political economy of Myanmar’s transition’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 44(1): 144–70. KESAN (Karen Environmental and Social Action Network) 2012. Land Lost and Future Land Problems in Karen State. Chiang Mai: KESAN. Lintner, B 2003. Burma in Revolt: Opium and Insurgency since 1948. Bangkok: Silkworm Books. Mark, S 2016. ‘Are the odds of justice “stacked” against them? Challenges and opportunities for securing land claims by smallholder farmers in Myanmar’. Critical Asian Studies 48(3): 443–60. MOALI (Ministry of Agriculture, Livestock and Irrigation) 2017. Agricultural Sector Policies and Thrusts for Second Five Year Short Term Plan. Nay Pyi Taw: Ministry of Agriculture, Livestock and Irrigation. MOPF (Ministry of Planning and Finance) and World Bank 2017. An Analysis of Poverty in Myanmar Part 2: Poverty Profile. Yangon: World Bank. Namati 2015. Return of Grabbed Lands in Myanmar: Progress after 2 years. Yangon: Namati. NESAC (National Economic and Social Advisory Council) 2016. ‘From rice bowl to food basket: a new vision for agriculture and the rural economy’, NESAC discussion paper. Available from: www.lift-­fund.org/sites/lift-­fund.org/files/publication/Myanmar%20 Agricultural%20Reform%20White%20Paper.pdf. NLD (National League for Democracy) 2015 Election Manifesto (authorized translation). Available from: www.burmalibrary.org/docs21/NLD_2015_Election_Manifesto-­en. pdf, accessed 15 June 2020. Okamoto, Ikuko 2008. Economic Disparity in Rural Myanmar: Transformation under Market Liberalization. Singapore: NUS Press. Okamoto, Ikuko 2009. ‘Transformation of the rice marketing system after market liberalization in Myanmar’. In Koichi Fujita, Fumiharu Mieso and Ikuko Okamoto (eds ) The Economic Transition in Myanmar after 1988: Market Economy versus State Control. Centre for Southeast Asian Studies. Singapore: NUS Press and Kyoto University Press, 216–45. San Thein and J C Diepart 2018. Large-­Scale Land Acquisitions for Agricultural Development in Myanmar: Genealogy and Contemporary Issues. Thematic Study Series #9. Vientiane-­ Yangon: MRLG. Theingi Myint, Duncan Boughton, Thanda Kyi and Tin Htut 2017. Myanmar’s Changing Rice Economy: Opportunities, Challenges and Policy. Paper presented at a panel on ‘Asian Rice Economies: Country Experiences and Challenges Ahead’ at the Centenary Conference of the Indian Economics Association, Acharya Nagarjuna University, Guntur, Andhra Pradesh, December 2017.

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Turnell, Sean 2009. Fiery Dragons: Banks, Moneylenders and Microfinance in Burma. Copenhagen: Nordic Institute of Asian Studies. Win, M T and A M Thinzar 2016. Agricultural Mechanization and Structural Transformation in Myanmar’s Ayeyarwady Delta. Food Security Policy Project Research Highlights #2. East Lansing, MI: Michigan State University. Woods, K 2011. ‘Ceasefire capitalism: military–private partnerships, resource concessions and military–state building in the Burma–China borderlands’. Journal of Peasant Studies 38(4): 747–70. World Bank 2018. DataBank. ‘Myanmar Country Profile’. Available from: https://data. worldbank.org/indicator/SL.AGR.EMPL.ZS and http://databank.worldbank.org/data/ views/reports/reportwidget.aspx?Report_Name=CountryProfile&Id=b450fd57&tbar= y&dd=y&inf=n&zm=n&country=MMR, accessed 26 October 2018. Zaw Oo and Win Min 2007. Assessing Burma’s Ceasefire Accords. Washington, DC: East-­ West Centre.

11 NATURAL RESOURCES Wealth and conflict Adam Simpson

Introduction Across much of Southeast Asia, natural resources are exploited with little thought for the social or environmental consequences. The economic benefits are extracted by the privileged few while the resultant pollution, deforestation and other negative impacts afflict the marginalised (Simpson 2018b). In Myanmar this challenge is particularly acute since half a century of military rule has resulted in a general absence of effective natural resource governance. In the inaugural Resource Governance Index (2013) Myanmar ranked last out of 58 resource rich countries in terms of governance in the extractive industries sector with a score of 4 out of 100 (Natural Resource Governance Institute 2013). While the country registered improvements in the second index (2017), extractive industries sector governance within the country was still ranked as ‘Poor’ (oil and gas) or ‘Failing’ (mining) (Natural Resource Governance Institute 2017). Natural resources are central to Myanmar’s contemporary economy but its diverse cultures, religions and ethnicities, a lack of governance capacity and competing political economy imperatives provide significant challenges to effective and, more importantly, equitable natural resource governance throughout the country. These challenges are exacerbated by endemic corruption throughout the economy, but particularly in the natural resources sector. According to Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index, after significant improvements since the end of military rule Myanmar’s score actually fell from 2017 to 2018 with the country’s ranking remaining relatively stagnant at around 132 of 180 countries (Transparency International 2019). Agriculture and natural resources are the most significant components of Myanmar’s economy: they dominate exports and provide the vast majority of its foreign exchange, whether official or unofficial. Corruption at various levels, mismanagement and civil conflict has allowed much of the activity to occur in the black

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economy, resulting in ineffective environmental governance and accompanying widespread environmental degradation (Simpson 2018a). These issues are interrelated and partly result from the central role the military has historically played in the country’s political economy. The role of the military in politics and the economy will be a long-­term issue for society to address but the effect of corruption itself has had a highly debilitating effect on environmental protection, equitable development and sustainability. For all these reasons, natural resource governance in Myanmar has been limited, opaque and corrupt. Some industries are better governed than others – natural gas is increasingly transparent and open to investment by international corporations while much of the jade industry remains hidden. Nevertheless, remnants of deep military-­state involvement in the drug trade (Meehan 2011), forestry (McCarthy 2014), rubber (Woods 2011, 2019a) and particularly jade (Global Witness 2015), have ensured that well-­connected vested interests continue to accumulate vast wealth and oppose corruption-­reducing governance reforms. Like many other sectors of the economy, the jade industry in Myanmar is run by an oligopoly of military-­owned corporations and associated cronies (Ford et al. 2016; Jones 2014). This dominance creates impediments to removing corruption within the natural resources sector, which is particularly problematic given Myanmar’s structural position as a producer and exporter of raw commodities. Although complemented by a surge in destructive development activities linked to Myanmar’s political and economic transition, the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP) government, led by President Thein Sein, introduced a range of new governance tools for natural resources, which provided more access for civil society (Fink and Simpson 2018). The key reform in this area was the implementation of the Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (EITI), part of a global movement towards transparency and civil society engagement in natural resource governance. While the global movement has taken decades to evolve, Myanmar undertook a fast-­track transition from residual direct military rule in early 2011 to a nominally civil society-­centred governance process in the extractive industries within a few years. The impediments and difficulties in this transition epitomise some of the broader governance limitations within the country and illustrate the formidable challenges in natural resource governance that face current and future governments.

Myanmar under military rule: what governance? There was little attempt to regulate and govern natural resources during the period of military rule, with largely unfettered resource extraction available to those companies with the right contacts in the governing military regime. There existed a patchwork of isolated and limited ad hoc laws on natural resources and environmental protection that, due to a lack of both government commitment and bureaucratic capacity, were inconsistently enforced. While there existed forestry laws, including those that recognised community forests, and a Land Acquisition Act,

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which was meant to regulate compensation for farmers, these were fragmented. A National Environmental Policy had existed since 1940 but it was largely ignored by military governments and had not been updated since 1994. While most countries by 2011 had well-­entrenched laws ensuring that public participation, environmental impact assessment (EIA) and social impact assessment were key components of major development activities, these types of legislated requirements were still absent from Myanmar. Natural resources were extracted without environmental constraint by military­owned companies or associated cronies in government-­controlled areas while ethnic armed groups survived on the revenues from unregulated extractive industries in the regions they controlled. While significant wealth was derived from this primitive accumulation, it also resulted in competition and conflict for access to the resources. For instance, a comparative study undertaken on natural resources and conflict more generally was unable to find a demonstrable statistical link between conflicts and exploitable forest resources across all cases, but Myanmar was the clearest case study where it did exist (Rustad and Binningsbø 2012: 531). During military rule, ‘many grievances with the extractive industries sector were resolved by fiat or use of force, rather than through policy-­making, mediation or dialogue’ (Adam Smith International 2015: 9). All levels of government and bureaucracy had extremely limited capacity and resources. Government data, such as it was, existed on paper rather than computers – research field trips to government offices in the early years of the Thein Sein government unearthed rooms still full of staff crouched over typewriters. Due to conflict and corruption there was a significant black economy that meant many environmental and natural resource indicators were not accurately captured in official statistics. Myanmar’s economy and society were dominated by agriculture, but the historical lack of an overarching land use policy, together with the existence of a range of outdated, ad hoc and incoherent rules and regulations related to land management resulted in the abuse of land use rights and widespread land degradation (Tin Htut Oo 2012). Government regulation, when it occurred, was often misguided and with a top-­down counterproductive focus. Agricultural production was largely controlled through directives specifying the commodities that individual farmers were to produce. These directives were based on whims of the ruling generals rather than effective environmental governance, and the results were often inappropriate for a particular climate or region resulting in poor yields and environmental degradation. Likewise, large-­scale, artisanal and small-­scale mining together had an enormous environmental impact due to the lack of environmental regulations, resulting in deforestation and the pollution of rivers from mine tailings. Mines throughout Myanmar produce zinc, lead, silver, tin, gold, iron, coal and gemstones, particularly jade. The largest copper mine in the country, the Letpadaung (Monywa) Copper Mine in Sagaing Region, was a site of regular community opposition due to land grabs and environmental destruction. These unregulated exploitative activities had dire impacts for the environmental security of many communities in Myanmar,

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particularly ethnic minorities. In the early decades of military rule, during the period of ‘the Burmese road to socialism’, state authoritarianism and incompetence depleted ecosystems while running down the economy. Although much environmental degradation occurred, civil conflict and a lack of economic dynamism limited the level of destruction compared with neighbouring Thailand. According to the World Bank, by 1990 forests still covered 60 per cent of Myanmar while in Thailand the coverage was less than half this level (World Bank 2016). Following the protests of 1988, the subsequent military regime created a quasi-­ market economy by opening the door to joint ventures between state or military-­ backed domestic enterprises and foreign companies that were interested in exploiting Myanmar’s natural resources through the Union of Myanmar Foreign Investment Law. The shift towards a market economy in agriculture brought in international investors and a rapid expansion of large-­scale commercial agriculture with export-­ oriented plantations established on land designated as ‘wasteland’, resulting in increased use of chemical fertilisers and the removal of small-­scale farmers from their customary land. This practice resulted in widespread land appropriation and conflict across the country. Limited contact with outside organisations and the lack of aid from international financial institutions during this period (Simpson 2013d; Simpson and Park 2013) meant that the government was somewhat insulated from global governance developments associated with climate change. Nevertheless, the government’s attempts to normalise its international relations in the early 1990s led it to sign the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) in 1992. Despite the potentially devastating impacts of climate change, however, the government demonstrated little commitment to mitigation or adaptation. In May 2008, Cyclone Nargis killed more than 140,000 people, destroyed 800,000 houses and left millions of Ayeyarwady (Irrawaddy) Delta residents – mostly ethnic Kayin (Karen) – homeless and facing disease and malnutrition. The cyclone path along the delta meant that it caused maximum destruction but it was clear that the widespread destruction of forests and mangrove ecosystems exacerbated the impact of the cyclone. Mangroves provide a natural barrier against storm surges. The growth of military-­run shrimp and fish farms along the coast weakened these natural barriers while deforestation intensified river flooding. Many of the global issues related to natural resource exploitation, and therefore climate change, are driven by energy policy. Unlike many countries, Myanmar does not rely primarily on coal for producing electricity, since its own reserves are limited and of poor quality. Around three-quarters of the electricity capacity in the country is derived from large-­scale hydropower, most of which was constructed in ethnic-­minority areas without community participation or consent during military rule (Simpson and Smits 2018). As with other forms of governance, energy policies during this period contributed little towards national development or sustainability. Electricity access and usage throughout the country was extremely low with the electrification rate estimated at 26 per cent at the end of military rule in 2011 (ADB 2012b: 23). This Asian Development Bank (ADB)

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figure included an average of 16 per cent across rural areas while Yangon, the commercial capital, recorded the highest rate of 67 per cent. Even these electrification rates provide an overly optimistic picture because rationing and unscheduled blackouts were ubiquitous, even in Yangon. Outside of the major centres electrification was limited; and in some ethnic minority regions virtually non-­ existent. Total installed capacity of the grid in 2011 was 3,361 megawatts (MW), with the energy sources being hydropower (75 per cent), gas (21 per cent) and coal (4 per cent). Due to poor maintenance of the gas and coal power plants and a lack of water during the dry season, however, the peak load during the driest months was only 1,533 MW. As with many other developing countries simple biomass technologies such as fuelwood, charcoal, agricultural residue and animal waste historically provided the dominant fuel source, supplying almost 70 per cent of the country’s primary energy (ADB 2012b: 3). These extreme energy shortages existed in the context of the development, throughout the 1990s and 2000s, of the country’s energy sector for exports in return for foreign exchange, initially to Thailand but subsequently to China as well (Haacke 2010; Simpson 2007). Natural gas was the most successful of Myanmar’s forays into this area with several projects being instigated and developed during military rule, although some were completed during the Thein Sein government: the Yadana and Yetagun Natural Gas Pipelines exported gas from Myanmar to Thailand from the turn of the century and earned approximately US$3 billion gross and US$1.5 billion net in 2010–11 (Turnell 2012: 146) constituting about 45 per cent of the country’s total official exports; the Zawtika Gas Pipeline sent gas in the same direction from 2014; and the Shwe Gas Pipeline exported gas from Rakhine State to Yunnan Province in China from 2013. Less successful was the hydropower dam building programme: the China Power Investment Corporation and its partners started building the US$3.6 billion Myitsone Dam on the Ayeyarwady (Irrawaddy) River in Kachin State, which was expected to provide up to 6,000 MW of electricity, primarily for export to China, while a cascade of dams was planned for the Thanlwin (Salween) River in Shan, Kayah (Karenni) and Kayin (Karen) States to export electricity to both Thailand and China (Simpson 2013a). All these major development projects were undertaken in the absence of any significant or rigorous governance processes and without any significant local consultation or participation. EIAs were either not undertaken at all or lacked any formal processes for public or civil society input or response. Nevertheless, while the gas pipelines all reached completion, progress on the dams was often slow due to civil conflict and opposition from local communities, however limited the formal modes of participation (Kirchherr et al. 2016). The projects tended to cause a variety of social and environmental problems, mainly in the ethnic minority areas of Myanmar’s mountainous border regions. Hydropower and natural gas are less harmful in relation to climate change and local pollution than coal, but large-­scale hydropower projects have dire ramifications for fisheries, downstream water security and displaced local communities. The exploitation of natural gas rather than coal or oil also had less to do with conscious government policy and more to

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do with the geological serendipity of plentiful reserves. For the many destitute and energy-­poor communities of Myanmar, the exporting of most of these energy resources to fund ongoing authoritarian rule provided little hope for improved energy and environmental security (Simpson 2013c): the two ethnic minority areas that hosted the gas projects, Tanintharyi (Tenasserim) Region and Rakhine (Arakan) State, had the two lowest per capita levels of electricity usage in the country (Simpson 2017a: 84). During military rule there was little opportunity for local dissent, and domestic environmental activists, particularly those based in ethnic minority areas, who questioned the necessity or rationale behind these resource projects, were harassed by the military and its intelligence service, including with arrests and torture (Doyle and Simpson 2006). As a result of this repression, and particularly the crackdown of 1988, many activists removed themselves from Myanmar-­proper to the ‘liberated’ border regions controlled by ethnic minorities or neighbouring countries such as Thailand. In the absence of effective state-­led environmental governance this ‘activist diaspora’, which included numerous ethnically based environmental NGOs, provided the most fertile and important ‘activist environmental governance’ of energy projects in Myanmar during this period (Simpson 2013b, 2017a). These activists undertook dangerous covert research in Myanmar proper and the liberated areas to produce environmental reports and assessments, with a strong justice focus on security and human rights, which were then used to pressure corporations and western governments to divest from these resource projects. They did not lobby Myanmar’s government itself, since it had generally ignored such petitions, but from 2011 the new Thein Sein government offered new opportunities for civil society engagement, together with a more effective natural resource governance regime.

Thein Sein and the USDP: unanticipated reform The broader governance improvements instigated by the Thein Sein government from 2011 were accompanied by the establishment of more coherent policies on the environment and natural resources and, gradually, by improved processes of consultation with the public, international agencies and civil society. The most significant symbol for both the public and the international community that the government’s approach to natural resources would be different was Thein Sein’s announcement, on 30 September 2011, that in response to community environmental concerns the CPI Myitsone Dam would be suspended for the remainder of his five-­year term. This was a stunning diplomatic rebuke against China, which supported the project, but was also the first significant decision the government had nominally made on the basis of community opposition, as well as an indicator of the frictions between the Chinese government and its state-­owned enterprises (SOEs) (Jones and Zou 2017). This was an unprecedented acknowledgement by the Myanmar government that it would no longer automatically force through large-­scale environmentally destructive natural resource projects that were strongly

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opposed by the community. This decision gave more confidence to local activists that they could challenge existing developments, and in January 2012 the Dawei Development Association, a newly formed NGO promoting ‘green development’ held a protest on the beach near the proposed site of the Dawei Development Project: later that month the government announced the cancellation of the Dawei 4,000 MW coal-­fired power station. This announcement further reinforced the view that local communities and domestic environmental groups would now be able to influence development decisions, particularly those related to the export of energy. The new relative openness to public consultation was accompanied by the development of a more comprehensive suite of laws and policies to regulate natural resources and the environment. In 2012 the Ministry of Environmental Conservation and Forestry (MOECAF ) was formed, giving environmental conservation a ministerial prominence it had never previously enjoyed. The Environmental Law, which had been drafted and redrafted over 15 years, was also passed in March 2012 (Government of Myanmar 2012). This law was entirely dependent on the various rules and procedures that were required to implement it; despite this law passing in 2012, it had little overt impact on development decisions throughout the Thein Sein era because these rules and procedures took several years to be finalised. Due to the governments’ lack of experience and expertise in this area the ADB assisted with the drafting of the EIA Procedures, Rules and National Environmental Quality Standards through a Technical Assistance Grant under the Greater Mekong Subregion Core Environment Program (ADB 2014). While the ADB’s participation and environmental safeguards are not always adequate, Myanmar’s historical lack of safeguards made the ADB’s look relatively comprehensive (Simpson and Park 2013). Although there was limited consultation with civil society prior to passing the law in 2012, the development of the rules and procedures was undertaken via workshops with public and private stakeholders throughout 2012–15 in a consultation process that was, until the political reforms, entirely foreign to Myanmar. Both the EIA Procedures and National Environmental Quality (Emission) Guidelines were finally launched in January 2016 in the last days of the Thein Sein government (ADB 2016). The evolution of engagement practices throughout the Thein Sein government was also evident in the development of land use policy. In 2012 the parliament passed, with no consultation, the Farmland Law and the Vacant, Fallow and Virgin Lands Management (VFV) Law, which were criticised by groups such as the Food Security Working Group’s Land Core Group as providing ‘weak protection of the rights of smallholder farmers in upland areas [and] remain[ing] designed primarily to foster promotion of large-­scale agricultural investment’ (Oberndorf 2012: iii). They argued that the laws were likely to perpetuate widespread land appropriation and conflict across the country. By 2014 the government had become much more open to civil society engagement and the process of consultation per se. A draft National Land Use Policy (NLUP) was released for feedback in October 2014. According to Oberndorf

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(2014) the draft NLUP emphasised strengthening the land tenure security of smallholder farmers, ethnic communities, women and other vulnerable groups and also included important provisions on: ensuring the use of effective environmental and social safeguard mechanisms; improving public participation in decision-­making processes related to land use planning; improving public access to accurate information related to land use management; and developing independent dispute resolution mechanisms. The Transnational Institute was more critical of the draft NLUP, arguing that it fell far short of international standards, but saw it as an important improvement on the previous approach to land use policy. Its response to the draft NLUP (Franco et al. 2015) made much of the Myanmar government being a signatory to the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO)’s Voluntary Guidelines on the Responsible Governance of Tenure of Land, Fisheries and Forests in the Context of National Food Security (FAO 2012). These guidelines provide the highest international standard on tenure of land, fisheries and forests and the government’s draft NLUP could therefore be judged against these standards. The government released the sixth draft of the NLUP in May 2015 and the final version was released in the last days of the outgoing parliament in January 2016. As with the Environmental Conservation Law the full impact of the NLUP will be determined by the composition and actions of the various councils and committees mandated within the policy in addition to the laws, rules and regulations that underpin it, but it was clear that the policy provided a new best practice approach to land use policy: it consistently referred to a need for participatory, transparent and accountable processes and sought the recognition of customary land tenure and dispute resolution (Aguirre 2016). The crucial element of the policy development process, however, was the extensive consultation with, and participation of, civil society in the development of the policy, which stood in stark contrast to the opaque development and delivery of the lands laws of 2012. In relation to formal climate change negotiations the Myanmar government submitted its nationally determined contribution (NDC) to the UNFCCC in September 2015 as its commitment to the Paris Agreement (MOECAF 2015). The government committed to reducing the country’s per capita emissions of 2  tonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent (tCO2eq) in 2010 by 6 per cent by 2030. This emissions level ranks Myanmar around 46th lowest out of 198 countries (Australian-­German Climate and Energy College 2015). Given the existing low level of per capita emissions – compared with, for example, Australia at 25.3 tCO2eq – any commitment not to increase per capita emissions appears quite significant. Nevertheless, the 6 per cent reduction, although politically beneficial, is also relatively insignificant in terms of contributions to climate change – it represents a 0.5 per cent reduction in Australia’s per capita emissions. Myanmar is one of those countries of the South that will feel the extreme impact of climate change while having made minimal contribution to it (Simpson and South forthcoming). While these improvements in governance occurred throughout the Thein Sein government there continued to be significant unregulated natural resource

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exploitation, particularly linked to military or crony-­operated companies, which may also call into question the NDC commitments. According to the Global Forest Resources Assessment 2015, Myanmar had the third largest area of annual deforestation – after Brazil and Indonesia – between 2010 and 2015, losing 546,000 ha, or 1.7 per cent of the country, of forest per annum (FAO 2015: 15). By 2015 the forested area had decreased to approximately 44.5 per cent (World Bank 2016). Despite an export ban on timber from 1 April 2014 discrepancies in figures between the Myanmar government and its trading partners indicated that the corrupt and illegal export of logs continued. According to the government, Myanmar received US$44 million from timber exports in the 2014–15 fiscal year, after the ban came into effect, compared with US$900 million the year before. These numbers were not borne out by figures from its six major trading partners, which indicate Myanmar’s log exports were only slightly down to US$1.3 billion from US$1.5 billion the year before with timber trade with China increasing from US$622 million to US$677 million in the same periods (NCRA 2015b). This result was consistent with research demonstrating that military connected companies in the border regions often receive agricultural concessions as a cover for logging operations that appear to be the primary objective (Woods 2015). In the mining sector, the environmental destruction and poor working conditions, particularly in jade mines, were highlighted with a major landslide in Hpakant, Kachin State, that killed at least 116 men in 2015 (Shoon Naing et al. 2019). Conflict and community protests over mines were widespread throughout the country during the government’s term and particularly around the Letpadaung (Monywa) Copper Mine in Sagaing Region, where protests over land grabs and environmental degradation were common. Despite the government renegotiating the contract to provide more favourable terms for the government and local communities at the expense of China’s Wanbao Mining Ltd in 2013, activists maintained that local communities had still not been consulted. Protesters were regularly arrested and jailed at the site and in December 2014 an activist was shot and killed, provoking greater unrest. The government had passed legislation that permitted public protest for the first time in Myanmar but it required the assent of the local authorities, which was not always forthcoming. Conflict at the Letpadaung Mine, and particularly the death of the protester, were issues that were taken up by activists within the EITI, a process which became emblematic of the reforms under the Thein Sein government, but also of the limitations that remained in environmental and natural resource governance in a country still dominated by the military.

Signing up to the Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative The EITI is a ‘global Standard to promote open and accountable management of natural resources’ (EITI International Secretariat 2016). Once a country joins the initiative it becomes mandatory for all extractive industry operators operating within that country to cooperate in the requirements of the EITI. Annual EITI

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reports for the country that disclose information on tax payments, licences, contracts and production from natural resource extraction are compiled by an independent administrator, allowing civil society and community groups to track the revenue from natural resources from production to the government accounts. President Thein Sein announced Myanmar’s intention to join the EITI in December 2012 and it submitted its first report in January 2016, just prior to the National League for Democracy (NLD) government taking power. In addition to reconciling company payments with government revenues, the key component of the EITI process is the Multi-­Stakeholder Group (MSG), which manages the EITI in each country, with equal votes between civil society, industry and government. Civil society therefore played a key decision-­making role throughout Myanmar’s EITI accession process, creating a corporatist body that was hitherto entirely foreign to governance in Myanmar. In support of Myanmar joining the EITI AusAID sponsored a delegation of civil society activists and government officials to visit Australia in May 2013 for the Global EITI Conference. This was the first time that government ministers and senior civil servants had spent time in such close quarters with activists and it was a watershed moment in breaking down the barriers between government and civil society (Simpson 2017b). The EITI will not be a panacea for natural resource governance in Myanmar, despite high expectations throughout the country, but it will play an important role in both legitimating civil society participation in governance processes and providing some much-­needed transparency in the extractive industries, particularly gemstones and jade, which currently constitute an enormous black market in Myanmar. Officially all gemstones and jade produced in Myanmar must be sold at the government’s annual Myanmar Gems Emporium, and the Thein Sein government insisted that this was the figure to be used in the EITI. In the 2015 emporium, gemstone sales were US$1.26 billion, down from a record US$3.4 billion in 2014, with jade accounting for about 90 per cent of the total sales (Reuters 2015). According to Myanmar’s Central Statistical Organization jade exports were approximately US$1billion, or 10 per cent of the total, in the financial year April 2013–March 2014, with around the same amount in 2014–15 (Central Statistical Organization 2016; Moore Stephens 2015: 15). However, according to Chinese customs data provided to the UN’s Comtrade database, China imported US$12.3 billion of gemstones in 2014, with most of the trade being jade (NCRA 2015a). While it appears that almost all of Myanmar’s jade is ultimately exported to China, the discrepancy between these figures indicates that there was far more jade being mined and exported than the government acknowledged. The Chinese figures also only include official exports; there are likely to be significant flows of gemstones in the black economy not being accounted for in these figures. Furthermore, a report by Global Witness (2015) employed two separate estimates of the jade sector – the secondary one based on the aforementioned Chinese data – with both methods concluding that the value of the amount of jade mined in 2014 was worth over US$30 billion, which was almost half Myanmar’s total

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e­ stimated 2014 GDP of US$64 billion (World Bank 2019). Both estimates were based on official production data that took no account of the jade production kept entirely off the books, which is, again, likely to be significant. Later Chinese UN Comtrade data suggest gemstone imports from Myanmar almost disappeared. In 2015 imports fell to US$2.3 billion and in 2016 they collapsed even further to US$179 million, possibly due to the corruption crackdown in China (Simpson 2017b). Despite these changes, the overall uncertainty and unreliability of most gemstone data suggest that the figures used in the first EITI report for gemstones was a small fraction of what the industry actually produced and highlighted a severe limitation of the EITI process that the new NLD government inherited.

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: eyes off the ball The new NLD government came to power in early 2016, accompanied by unparalleled optimism from most of Myanmar’s population and the international community. While there has undoubtedly been progress in most areas of Myanmar’s governance, including natural resources, the NLD’s first term in office was characterised, more often than not, by disappointment. The initial focus by Aung San Suu Kyi was on the national peace process, to the exclusion of political economy and natural resource concerns, when clearly these concerns were central to the many grievances of ethnic minorities related to their long-­standing marginalisation and exploitation by the Bamar majority (Woods 2019b). Despite five years of reforms by the Thein Sein government, the NLD inherited a long list of governance issues that had built up during decades of mismanagement and neglect. One of the first decisions of the NLD government was to halve the number of government ministries, with MOECAF rebranded as the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environmental Conservation (MONREC). The most significant change to the ministry was the addition of mining to the forestry and environmental conservation portfolios. The new minister, U Ohn Win, had a strong background in forestry and was one of the few ministers appointed from outside the NLD. While the minister was conservation-­oriented, the sprawling and largely unregulated mining sector represented an enormous challenge. The main task facing the government was to find a balance between exploiting natural resources for sustainable and equitable development and repairing some of the past environmental damage caused by unfettered deforestation, mining and previous destructive development projects. Reorganisation of Myanmar’s SOEs, particularly in the natural resources sector, was a key goal of broader governance reforms (Heller and Delesgues 2016). One of the minister’s first announcements, to the upper house of parliament in June 2016, was that logging would be suspended nationwide by the end of that fiscal year in April 2017, although this restriction was eased in 2019 to allow timber from private plantations to be exported. Building on the export ban in April 2014 the policy helped stem the hemorrhaging of Myanmar’s forest cover that had occurred over the previous decades. The prospects for the success of this policy

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were substantially greater under the NLD government than if such a policy had been proposed under the Thein Sein government. The NLD government has few of the links to the military and their associated businesses that have stymied conservation attempts in the past (Woods 2015). While deforestation has still continued in pockets due to illegal logging for agriculture or mining, the country-­wide unregulated destruction of forests has been reduced with some reforestation of recently forested areas and afforestation of long-­denuded areas. This forestry policy has numerous beneficial flow-­on effects including reduced flooding, of the sort that devastated large swathes of the country in mid-­2015, reduced erosion of arable land and soils and more amenable microclimates.  As with most countries, climate change will be the most significant environmental issue for Myanmar’s future because it is likely to exacerbate most existing environmental problems and also create new ones: storms and cyclones such as Nargis are likely to become more frequent and more intense, together with a more unpredictable monsoon, higher sea-­levels and longer and more severe droughts. The ADB lists climate change and pollution as two of the key risks facing Myanmar, highlighting the importance of environmental issues to Myanmar’s long term development (ADB 2012a: 32–3). Crucial strategies to deal with these global environmental changes include increasing the amount of forested areas in fragile watersheds and repairing mangrove ecosystems that provide natural buffer zones. In addition, energy policies that minimise carbon emissions while protecting local ecosystems and cultural practices will promote sustainable local activities while assisting global efforts to reduce climate change. These policies can be drawn from a critical approach to energy security (Simpson 2017a: 191–6), which would prohibit the use of mega-­dams across large free-­flowing rivers such as the Ayeyarwady and Thanlwin. The battle for competing land uses in Myanmar is evident in Dawei in Tanintharyi (Tenassarim) Region where a special economic zone (SEZ) including a petrochemical industry and deep sea port is competing with local attempts to develop ecotourism. This area of essentially unspoiled beaches has enormous ecotourism potential, an industry which could provide much needed foreign exchange without destroying the country’s ecosystems (Nuwer 2016). The location of the SEZ has attracted other interest including a Chinese energy company, which received approval from the outgoing Myanmar Investment Commission in March 2016 for Myanmar’s first large-­scale oil refinery. These industries are clearly incompatible – ecotourists do not want to swim near oil refinery outlets – and while some form of industrial development within Myanmar is necessary the poor health outcomes associated with Thailand’s polluted eastern seaboard should be instructive. Similarly, the Chinese-­led SEZ in Kyauk Phyu and the associated China-­Myanmar Economic Corridor (CMEC) will cause both social and environmental challenges as they progress. Effective natural resource governance is desperately needed in Myanmar, to address both the historical environmental degradation that occurred during the mismanagement of military rule and the pressures being unleashed by the current

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political and economic reform process. While the policy architecture to adequately govern natural resources and improve environmental outcomes is still embryonic there are clear signs that a comprehensive and integrated governance system is emerging. A revised National Environmental Policy, which was funded by the UNDP and underwent several drafts and national consultation rounds, was finally released in 2019 (Government of Myanmar 2019b). It provided 23 National Environmental Policy Principles including that ‘the rights of indigenous people and ethnic nationalities to their lands, territories, resources and cultural heritage, and their roles in environmental conservation and natural resources management, are recognized and protected’ [7 (a)(6)]. If adhered to, this principle provides a resource-­focused basis for ethnic minority autonomy and federalism, a key goal of many ethnic minorities (BEWG 2017). The Myanmar Climate Change Master Plan, initiated under Thein Sein, was also released in 2019 and provides a cross-­sectoral framework for achieving Myanmar’s NDC under the Paris Agreement (Government of Myanmar 2019a). In 2018 the International Finance Corporation (IFC), in collaboration with ­Australian Aid, released its Strategic Environmental Assessment of the Myanmar Hydropower Sector, which provided a comprehensive overview of the difficulties faced by the government in pursuing hydropower projects in Myanmar (IFC 2018). Despite the well-­intentioned analysis and goals found in these documents it will be the implementation of the government’s policies, as it has been with all recent legislation and policies in Myanmar, that determines the efficacy of the agenda.

Progress on the Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative Adequate support for the EITI process should be a crucial contributor to improving governance of the mining sector in Myanmar but in their first year of office, the NLD focused almost exclusively on the peace process, leaving economic policy languishing. While Aung San Suu Kyi saw the peace process as the key to improving development, in reality, economic development and opportunity was more likely to expedite the peace process. In addition, she tended to abandon projects pursued by the Thein Sein government, which may also have contributed to the stagnation in the EITI process during the NLD’s first year in office (Simpson 2017b). The government finally appointed a new EITI leading committee in December 2016 and in April 2017 they were granted 12-month extensions by the EITI International Board, resulting in the second (2014–15) and third (2015–16) EITI reports being submitted together in March 2018. The Fourth EITI Report for 2016–17 was published in March 2019 and completed by PricewaterhouseCoopers (PwC) Myanmar, rather than the London-­based Moore Stephens who had completed the first three, since the independent administrator was required to be registered in Myanmar. The organisation, which was the only viable candidate, struggled to produce the report up to the necessary standard, requiring several drafts before the report was acceptable to stakeholders (NGO Interviews, Yangon, 5 and 6 September 2019). The final report indicated that the

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energy and mining sectors contributed 4.4 per cent of GDP, down from 6.2 per cent the previous year, because of lower upstream oil and gas revenues, and that no new permits had been granted for ‘Gems, Jade and Other Minerals’ in the year due to the NLD government’s review of the mining cadastre and licensing system (PwC 2019: 7). Although the Myanmar Economic Corporation (MEC) and Myanmar Economic Holding Limited (MEHL), enormous military-­owned conglomerates, reluctantly participated in the Fourth EITI Report there were unreconciled differences between the companies’ and the government’s data (PwC 2019: 73). Nevertheless, the process is starting to expose the vast extent of the military’s economic assets and activities, which was previously hidden (Simpson 2017b; Vijge and Simpson 2020). Despite the specific figures found in the EITI report the contribution of jade to GDP and the economy more broadly remains highly disputed. A 2016 report for the Myanmar EITI on the gemstone sector estimated that 60–80 per cent of gemstones produced in Myanmar ‘are not declared and therefore bypass the formal system’ (Irwin 2016: 7). Analysis from Natural Resources Governance Institute (NRGI) in 2019, which provided a range for the value of jade production in the country in 2015/16, found that with ‘low underreporting’ and ‘low average price’ assumptions the industry was worth around US$4 billion, while with ‘high underreporting’ and ‘high average price’ assumptions the value of the industry ballooned to over US$40 billion (Shortell 2019: 35), almost two-­thirds of Myanmar’s official GDP in 2016 of US$63 billion (World Bank 2019). In addition, the NLD government’s continued unwillingness, or inability, to enforce safety standards in the jade industry was highlighted by further jade mine disasters in Hpakant: in 2019, when 55 men died (Shoon Naing et al. 2019), and in July 2020 when at least 166 men, but likely dozens more, died during an enormous landslide in the worst mine disaster in recent history (Al Jazeera 2020). From 2019 Myanmar EITI began publishing separate reconciliation reports on Myanmar’s forestry sector, one of the few countries in the EITI to do so. During 2019–20 they published four reports on the sector for financial years 2014/15–2017/18. The improved transparency was welcome but the reports demonstrated that, as with the gemstone sector, there were enormous variability and inconsistencies regarding the reporting of production, revenue and profits by industry and agencies, in this case between the SOE Myanmar Timber Enterprise and the Forest Department (Nan Lwin 2019). The EITI validation process commenced on 1 July 2018 and the first validation report from the process in November of that year indicated that Myanmar had ‘exceeded stakeholder expectations in its implementation of the EITI’ (EITI International Secretariat 2018: 6). It was expected that the EITI Board at its meeting of June 2019 in Paris would conclude that Myanmar had made ‘meaningful progress’ in implementing the EITI 2016 Standard but ongoing issues relating to freedom of expression and freedom of association for civil society caused a deferment until it was granted at the October 2019 Board Meeting in Addis Ababa (EITI International Secretariat 2019).

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The main Fifth EITI Report for 2017–18 was published in March 2020 and completed by London-­based BDO LLP. It noted that ‘taking into account the complexity of the extractive sector in the country and the good faith efforts undertaken by Myanmar to meet requirements of the EITI Standard’ the EITI Board determined that Myanmar would have 18 months before requiring a second validation to carry out corrective actions; the next validation was therefore due April 2021 (BDO LLP 2020: 12). While there are limitations on what can be achieved by the EITI in a country formerly so bereft of adequate governance procedures and the involvement of civil society, it is clear that the EITI has been a valuable tool for engaging and training civil society while improving institutional capacity and quality within the resources sector (Bünte 2018; Vijge 2018; Vijge et al. 2019). Incremental governance improvements driven by the EITI continue to accrue, such as the government’s abolishment of ‘other accounts’ – effectively slush funds – from 2019/20 (Htun Htun 2019) and a new order from the Directorate of Investment and Company Administration (DICA) requiring businesses to register their true beneficial owners from January 2020 (DICA 2019). The latter resulted in the establishment of an online register in March 2020 which enables users to search mining, oil and gas companies for the identities of individuals owning shares of 5 per cent or more in these companies; another unprecedented shift towards corporate and political transparency (DICA 2020; EITI International Secretariat 2020). The Myanmar EITI Beneficial Ownership report by consultant Charlotte Boyer from February 2020 indicated that most Myanmar companies had straightforward ownership structures, with beneficial owners being the shareholders; however it was clear from the number of incomplete forms or forms not submitted that there were significant gaps in the data (BDO LLP 2020: 326–7). The companies with more complex or opaque ownership structures – employed to disguise the beneficial owners – are also likely to be in the list of companies with missing documentation.

Conclusion: future challenges The challenges that bedevil Myanmar’s natural resources sector are similar to those that face much of Myanmar’s politics, economy and society: decades of neglect and mismanagement accompanied by civil conflict and a well-­founded lack of trust between ethnic minority communities and central government. After a slow start the NLD government gradually undertook some of the incremental improvements required to build an effective natural resource governance regime. Progress was still halting, however, with the natural conservatism of the NLD, as well as the ongoing need for broader political collaboration between itself and the military, stymying more fundamental reform. Despite ongoing vestiges if illiberalism within the NLD government, civil society will play a crucial role in the development and effectiveness of the evolving governance architecture (Simpson and Smits 2018). Myanmar’s engagement with

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the EITI will continue to provide international support and pressure for greater transparency and civil society participation in the natural resources sector. It will require immense political leadership and commitment, however, to challenge the vested interests within various natural resource industries and it is not yet clear that the NLD leadership is ready for that fight.

References Adam Smith International 2015. Institutional and Regulatory Assessment of the Extractive Industries in Myanmar. London: Adam Smith International and MDRI-­CESD.  ADB (Asian Development Bank) 2012a. Myanmar in Transition: Opportunities and Challenges. Manila: Asian Development Bank. Available from: www.adb.org/sites/default/files/ publication/29942/myanmar-­transition.pdf, accessed 1 July 2017. ADB (Asian Development Bank) 2012b. Myanmar: Energy Sector Initial Assessment. Manila: Asian Development Bank.  ADB (Asian Development Bank) 2014. Greater Mekong Subregion: Core Environment Program. Manila: Asian Development Bank. Available from: www.gms-­eoc.org, accessed 15 May 2016. ADB (Asian Development Bank) 2016. Launch Ceremony: EIA Procedures and Environmental Quality Guidelines. Bangkok: Asian Development Bank, Greater Mekong Subregion, Core Environment Program. Available from: www.gms-­eoc.org/events/launch-­ceremony-eia-­ procedure-and-­environmental-quality-­guidelines, accessed 10 October 2016. Al Jazeera 2020. ‘Myanmar jade mine disaster: More bodies found at landslide site’. 3 July. Available from: www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/07/myanmar-jade-disaster-bodieslandslide-site-200703105849064.html, accessed 20 July 2020. Aguirre, D 2016. ‘A sound basis for land reform’. Frontier Myanmar, 19 February. Available from: http://frontiermyanmar.net/en/sound-­basis-land-­reform, accessed 10 June 2016. Australian-­German Climate and Energy College 2015. INDC Factsheets. Melbourne: Australian-­German Climate and Energy College. Available from: www.climate-­energycollege.net/indc-­factsheets, accessed 10 June 2016. BDO LLP 2020. Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative: EITI Myanmar Report 2017–18. London: BDO LLP. Available from: https://myanmareiti.org/sites/myanmareiti.org/ files/publication_docs/meiti_reconciliation_report_2017-2018_final_signed.pdf, accessed 11 April 2020. BEWG (Burma Environmental Working Group) 2017. Resource Federalism: A Roadmap for Decentralised Governance of Burma’s Natural Heritage. Chiang Mai: BEWG. Available from: www.bewg.org/sites/default/files/pdf_report_file/ResourceFederalismWEB_0. pdf. Bünte, M 2018. ‘Building governance from scratch: Myanmar and the Extractive Industry Transparency Initiative’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 48(2): 230–51. Central Statistical Organization 2016. Central Statistical Organization. Ministry of Planning and Finance. Naypyitaw. Available from: www.csostat.gov.mm/, accessed 1 December 2016. DICA (Directorate of Investment and Company Administration) 2019. Directive on Disclosure of Beneficial Ownership Information, 15 November. Naypyitaw: Ministry of Investment and Foreign Economic Relations. Available from: www.dica.gov.mm/sites/dica.gov.mm/ files/document-­files/directive_engfinal_0.pdf.  DICA (Directorate of Investment and Company Administration) 2020. Beneficial Ownership

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Disclosures. Naypyitaw: DICA and MIFER (Ministry of Investment and Foreign Economic Relations). Available from: https://bo.dica.gov.mm/en/beneficial-­ownershipdisclosures, accessed 15 March 2020. Doyle, T and A Simpson 2006. ‘Traversing more than speed bumps: green politics under authoritarian regimes in Burma and Iran’. Environmental Politics 15(5): 750–67. EITI (Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative) International Secretariat 2016. Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative. Oslo: EITI. Available from: http://eiti.org, accessed 13 March 2016. EITI (Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative) International Secretariat 2018. Validation of Myanmar: Report on Initial Data Collection and Stakeholder Consultation, 24 November. Oslo: EITI.  EITI (Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative) International Secretariat 2019. The Board Agreed that Myanmar has Made Meaningful Progress Overall in Implementing the 2016 EITI Standard. Oslo: EITI. Available from: https://eiti.org/board-­decision/2019-58.  EITI (Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative) International Secretariat 2020. Myanmar Takes Steps to Reveal the Owners of Extractive Companies. Oslo: EITI. Available from: https://eiti.org/news/myanmar-­takes-steps-­to-reveal-­owners-of-­extractive-companies, accessed 20 March 2020. FAO (Food and Agriculture Organization) 2012. The Voluntary Guidelines on the Responsible Governance of Tenure of Land, Fisheries and Forests in the Context of National Food Security. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) of the United Nations.  FAO (Food and Agriculture Organization) 2015. Global Forest Resources Assessment 2015. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations. Available from: www. fao.org/3/a-­i4793e.pdf, accessed 15 September 2015. Fink, C and A Simpson 2018. ‘Civil society’. In A Simpson, N Farrelly and I Holliday (eds) Routledge Handbook of Contemporary Myanmar. London and New York: Routledge, 257–67. Ford, M, M Gillan and H H Thein 2016. ‘From cronyism to oligarchy? Privatisation and business elites in Myanmar’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 46(1): 18–41. Franco, J, P Vervest, T Kramer, A A Fradejas and H Twomey 2015. The Challenge of Democratic and Inclusive Land Policymaking in Myanmar: A Response to the Draft National Land Use Policy. Amsterdam: Transnational Institute.  Global Witness 2015. Jade: Myanmar’s ‘Big State Secret’. London: Global Witness. Available from: www.globalwitness.org/reports/myanmarjade/, accessed 23 October 2015. Government of Myanmar 2012. The Environment Conservation Law. Naypyitaw: Government of Myanmar. Government of Myanmar 2019a. Myanmar Climate Change Master Plan (2018–30). Naypyitaw: Environmental Conservation Department, Ministry of Natural Resources and Environmental Conservation. Government of Myanmar 2019b. National Environmental Policy of Myanmar. Naypyitaw: Government of Myanmar.  Haacke, J 2010. ‘China’s role in the pursuit of security by Myanmar’s State Peace and Development Council: boon and bane?’ The Pacific Review 23(1): 113–37. Heller, P R P and L Delesgues 2016. Gilded Gatekeepers: Myanmar’s State-­Owned Oil, Gas and Mining Enterprises. New York: Natural Resource Governance Institute (NRGI). Available from: www.resourcegovernance.org/sites/default/files/nrgi_Myanmar-­StateOwned-­Enterprises_Full-­Report.pdf, accessed 18 February 2016. Htun Htun 2019. ‘ “Other accounts” of Union Govt Ministries, Agencies to be scrapped’. The Irrawaddy, 20 June. Available from: www.irrawaddy.com/news/accounts-­uniongovt-­ministries-agencies-­scrapped.html, accessed 21 November 2019.

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IFC (International Finance Corporation) 2018. Strategic Environmental Assessment of the Myanmar Hydropower Sector. Washington, DC: IFC. Irwin, E 2016. Gemstone Sector Review: In support of Myanmar EITI. Yangon: Myanmar Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (MEITI).  Jones, L 2014. ‘The political economy of Myanmar’s transition’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 44(1): 144–70. Jones, L and Y Zou 2017. ‘Rethinking the role of state-­owned enterprises in China’s rise’. New Political Economy 22(6): 743–60. Kirchherr, J, K J Charles and M J Walton 2016. ‘The interplay of activists and dam developers: the case of Myanmar’s mega-­dams’. International Journal of Water Resources Development 33(1): 111–31. McCarthy, S 2014. ‘Norm diffusion and the limits to forestry governance reform in Southeast Asia’s new democracies’. The Pacific Review 27(5): 755–78. Meehan, P 2011. ‘Drugs, insurgency and state-­building in Burma: why the drugs trade is central to Burma’s changing political order’. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 42(3): 376–404. MOECAF (Ministry of Environmental Conservation and Forestry) 2015. Myanmar’s Intended Nationally Determined Contribution – INDC. Yangon: Ministry of Environmental Conservation and Forestry (MOECAF ). Moore Stephens 2015) Myanmar Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative: Scoping Study for the First EITI Report – For the Period April 2013-March 2014. London: Moore Stephens.  Nan Lwin 2019. ‘Loopholes in Myanmar’s forest sector cost govt million in revenue’. The Irrawaddy, 11 July. Available from: www.irrawaddy.com/in-­person/loopholes-­myanmarsforest-­sector-cost-­govt-million-­revenue.html, accessed 20 June 2020. Natural Resource Governance Institute 2013. The 2013 Resource Governance Index: A Measure of Transparency and Accountability in the Oil, Gas and Mining Sector. New York: Natural Resource Governance Institute (formerly Revenue Watch Institute). Available from: www.resourcegovernance.org/sites/default/files/rgi_2013_Eng.pdf, accessed 16 June 2016. Natural Resource Governance Institute 2017. The 2017 Resource Governance Index: A Measure of Transparency and Accountability in the Oil, Gas and Mining Sector. New York: Natural Resource Governance Institute (formerly Revenue Watch Institute). NCRA (New Crossroads Asia) 2015a. A $12bn Jade and Gem Industry Rides to the Kyat’s Rescue. New Crossroads Asia, 22 June. Available from: www.newcrossroadsasia.com/, accessed 10 November 2015. NCRA (New Crossroads Asia) 2015b. Myanmar Business Update. New Crossroads Asia, 15 September. Available from http://newcrossroadsasia.com/docs/Volume%2037.pdf, accessed 1 October 2015. Nuwer, R 2016. ‘The race to save Myanmar’s remarkable biodiversity’. Scientific American 314(5): 44–9. Oberndorf, R B 2012. Legal Review of Recently Enacted Farmland Law and Vacant, Fallow and Virgin Lands Management Law. Yangon: Food Security Working Group’s Land Core Group. Available from: www.forest-­trends.org/documents/files/doc_3274.pdf, accessed: 1 June 2016. Oberndorf, R B 2014. Burma Draft National Land Use Policy Open for Public Consultations. Washington, DC: USAID. Available from: http://usaidlandtenure.net/commentary/ 2014/11/burma-­draft-national-­land-use-­policy-public-­consultations, accessed 15 June 2015. PwC (PricewaterhouseCoopers) 2019. The Fourth Myanmar EITI Report: For the Period April 2016–March 2017 – Oil and Gas, Gems and Jade, Other Minerals and Pearl. Yangon: PricewaterhouseCoopers Myanmar Co.

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Reuters 2015. ‘Myanmar gems sales slump as conflict stems jade supply’. Reuters, 9 July. Available from: www.reuters.com/article/2015/07/09/myanmar-­jade-idUSL3N0ZP2D H20150709, accessed 10 November 2015. Rustad, S A and H M Binningsbø 2012. ‘A price worth fighting for? Natural resources and conflict recurrence’. Journal of Peace Research 49(4): 531–46. Shoon Naing, Sam Aung Moon and S Lewis 2019. ‘ “Lives are cheap”: grief, anger as landslide rocks Myanmar’s jade hills’. Reuters, 17 May. Available from: https://uk.reuters. com/article/uk-­m yanmar-mine/lives-­a re-cheap-­g rief-anger-­a s-landslide-­r ocksmyanmars-­jade-hills-­idUKKCN1SN0N5, accessed 20 November 2019. Shortell, P 2019. Losing Luster: Addressing Tax Evasion in Myanmar’s Jade and Gemstone Industry. New York: Natural Resource Governance Institute (NRGI). Available from: https:// resourcegovernance.org/analysis-­t ools/publications/losing-­luster-addressing-­t axevasion-­myanmars-jade-­and-gemstone, accessed 21 November 2019. Simpson, A 2007. ‘The environment-­energy security nexus: critical analysis of an energy “love triangle” in Southeast Asia’. Third World Quarterly 28(3): 539–54. Simpson, A 2013a. ‘An “activist diaspora” as a response to authoritarianism in Myanmar: the role of transnational activism in promoting political reform’. In F Cavatorta (ed.) Civil Society Activism under Authoritarian Rule: A Comparative Perspective. London and New York: Routledge/ECPR Studies in European Political Science, 181–218. Simpson, A 2013b. ‘Challenging hydropower development in Myanmar (Burma): cross-­ border activism under a regime in transition’. The Pacific Review 26(2): 129–52. Simpson, A 2013c. ‘Challenging inequality and injustice: a critical approach to energy security’. In R Floyd and R Matthew (eds) Environmental Security: Approaches and Issues. London and New York: Routledge, 248–63. Simpson, A 2013d. ‘Market building and risk under a regime in transition: the Asian Development Bank in Myanmar (Burma)’. In T Carroll and D S L Jarvis (eds) The Politics of Marketising Asia. Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 162–84. Simpson, A 2017a. Energy, Governance and Security in Thailand and Myanmar (Burma): A Critical Approach to Environmental Politics in the South (updated edn). Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Simpson, A 2017b. ‘The Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative: new openings for civil society in Myanmar’. In M Crouch (ed.) The Business of Transition: Law Reform and Commerce in Myanmar. Melbourne, QLD: Cambridge University Press, 55–80. Simpson, A 2018a. ‘Corruption, investment and natural resources’. In S Alam, J Bhuiyan and J Razzaque (eds) International Natural Resources Law, Investment and Sustainability. London and New York: Routledge, 416–34. Simpson, A 2018b. ‘The environment in Southeast Asia: injustice, conflict and activism’. In M Beeson and A Ba (eds) Contemporary Southeast Asia (3rd edn). New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 164–80. Simpson, A and S Park 2013. ‘The Asian Development Bank as a global risk regulator in Myanmar’. Third World Quarterly 34(10): 1858–71. Simpson, A and M Smits 2018. ‘Transitions to energy and climate security in Southeast Asia? Civil society encounters with illiberalism in Thailand and Myanmar’. Society and Natural Resources 31(5): 580–98. Simpson, A and A South forthcoming. ‘Evolving governance of climate change in Myanmar: political limitations and opportunities’. In J Marquardt, L L Delina and M Smits (eds) Governing Climate Change in Southeast Asia: Critical Perspectives. London and New York: Routledge. Tin Htut Oo 2012. ‘Devising a new agricultural strategy to enhance Myanmar’s rural economy’. In N Cheesman, M Skidmore and T Wilson (eds), Myanmar’s Transition: Openings, Obstacles and Opportunities. Singapore: ISEAS, 156–81.

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Part III

Society

12 ART AND HERITAGE Creating and preserving cultural histories Charlotte Galloway

Introduction Myanmar’s rich visual culture is consistent with the country’s ethnic diversity and disparate physical environments. Artistic forms have undergone continual evolution since earliest times and Myanmar’s inhabitants have integrated a complex visual culture within their daily lives. Over the last 100 years Myanmar’s arts and heritage have been profoundly affected by socio-­political events. Myanmar’s historic artistic skills have been threatened by cultural change and industrial progress. Modern art practices have been stifled by government rules and regulations. Since independence Myanmar’s creative citizens have lived through periods of artistic freedom and oppression. Art and heritage have been used as tools by various state entities to further political ambitions though throughout, artists and craftspeople have adapted and endured. While historic traditions associated with Myanmar’s artistic practices are readily evident through Myanmar’s innumerable temples and Buddhist monuments, the conceptual framework of addressing art and heritage within internationally accepted practices is still in its infancy. What exactly is art and heritage in the Myanmar context? In general terms art can be taken to mean the traditional arts and crafts of Myanmar, performing arts and music, and western-­style art practice. Heritage can be divided loosely into the categories of Buddhist monuments and sites, ancient artefacts such as Buddha images and other archaeological material, and in more recent times colonial architecture has become a heritage focus. Intangible cultural heritage is a recently introduced concept and documentation of Myanmar’s living cultural traditions is now occurring. Western concepts of heritage were only formally introduced to Myanmar after the country was integrated into the British Empire in 1886 as a province of India, quite late in the overall context of colonialism. The Archaeological Survey of India

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(ASI), through their Department of Archaeology in Myanmar assumed responsibility for all excavations and restoration of ancient sites in Myanmar. The ASI established site museums at Bagan (1904) and Sri Ksetra, near Pyay (c.1926). These modest storehouses are still in use today (Nu Mra Zan 2016). Britain established major museums in many of its regional colonies, yet no government-­funded major museum was built in Myanmar during colonial rule. The first museum established was the independent Phayre Provincial Museum which opened in Yangon in 1867. Named after Sir Arthur Phayre, British Chief Commissioner from 1862–67, Phayre’s own collections formed the foundations for the museum displays (Nu Mra Zan: 2016). Similarly, the first public library was established by a private citizen, Bernard Free, Commissioner of Lower Burma, when he opened a library in his name in Yangon in 1883. In the absence of a major collection repository monasteries became safe storehouses for heritage objects found in more remote areas (Fabri 1936: 47). These small monastic and pagoda museums throughout the country have played a very important role in safeguarding heritage objects. Colonisation had a significant impact on Myanmar’s arts and crafts traditions. Since at least the eleventh century, the ten pan (flowers) have been fundamental to Myanmar’s visual culture. These crafts, which included wood and stone carving and masonry work were integral in producing the monuments and objects of donation associated with Buddhism. The system of donation, which saw the kings and royal families lead by example, was severely disrupted by colonial rule. Regular maintenance of temples previously paid for through the court no longer took place, renewal of temples such as the replacement of new htis, the umbrella that sits atop stupas, was only possible if local communities could fund it. With a disrupted social and economic framework the amount of work available for artisans shrank considerably and inevitably skills were lost. British rule introduced western drawing and painting techniques. Again, Myanmar did not enjoy the same benefits afforded to India where the British ran several art schools (Mitter 1994: 30–4). In Myanmar the government opened an art and music school only in 1930. This would later become the University of Fine Arts with branches in Yangon and Mandalay. Western art practices were embraced by a new generation of Myanmar artists but in the destabilising environment leading to World War II there was little opportunity to gain international recognition. During Japanese occupation (1942–44) an Institute of Art was established and artists produced scenes of military battles and propaganda art for public consumption (Ranard 2009: 141). This gave some artists the opportunity to continue their practice but training programmes were severely interrupted. It is against this cultural sector backdrop that Myanmar gained independence in 1948. Under U Nu’s leadership the Ministry of Culture was formed on 22 March 1952 with a foundation brief to ‘to centralize, co-­ordinate and devote itself entirely to various works of culture in different aspects’ (DIUB 1953: 33). A State School of Fine Arts, Music and Drama was founded in 1952 and expanded to become the State School of Music and Drama in Yangon, and the State School of Fine Art, Music and Drama in Mandalay. The National Library, Museum and Art Gallery was opened in 1 June 1952 under the name of The Cultural Institute and aimed 

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to strengthen the national unity of Burma by raising the cultural level of the people … To bring history to life and to create an awareness of the cultural heritage of the past were motives which encouraged the moulding of the Institute. (DIUB [April] 1953: 33) The Department of Archaeology resumed responsibility for all excavations and preservation of monuments and sites, later becoming part of the Ministry of Culture. Buddhism provided cultural links to assist nation building during Myanmar’s fragmented post-­independence period. The building of Kaba Aye Pagoda and Myanmar’s hosting of the Sixth World Buddhist Council (17 May 1954–May 1956) positioned Myanmar as a leader in contemporary Buddhist teaching. In 1955, coinciding with the council, the Ministry of Union Culture hosted an exhibition of Buddhist art and antiquities on loan from the Government of India (Ministry of Union Culture 1955). This is the first known major loan exhibition to Myanmar. A museum division was established within the International Institute for Advanced Buddhistic Studies when it was founded in 1955. Like Kaba Aye, the institute and associated religious buildings were built under U Nu’s direction. The museum was focused on objects associated with Buddhism, both locally and internationally (Ministry of Information 1961: 64–5). A 1958 paper by then Director of the Archaeological Survey of Burma, U Lu Pe Win, listed aspects of Burmese culture which endured throughout the period of colonial rule. These included: religious architecture, civil architecture, painting, lacquerware, silver and gold work, weaving, language and literature, drama, astrology, weights and measures, coinage and festivals (U Lu Pe Win 1958). Many of these arts and crafts were taught at the fine arts universities. In the 1950s, the museum sector enjoyed strong government support. With an aim to ‘make the National Museum come up to international standards’ there was recognition of the need to ensure ‘careful preservation, upkeep and maintenance of these cultural heritage [sic] of mankind …according to modern methods to prevent any possible decay’ (DIUB 1958: 37). The UNESCO Protocol for the Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict (The Hague 1954) and the Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict with Regulations for the Execution of the Convention (The Hague 1954) were ratified in 1956. UNESCO supported Myanmar’s museum development, providing training for staff and equipment (DIUB 1957: 83, 1958: 37). A ‘Museum Week’ was held 25 March–1 April 1961 to mark the ninth anniversary of the National Museum and National Art Gallery (Ministry of Information 1961: 189). Regional cultural museums were established in major centres such as Hpa-­an and Taungyi and cultural activities were actively promoted. However, increasing political tensions saw arts and heritage become tools for promoting government policy. In the 1961government report, for example, the importance of film as a means of mass communication is noted as film ‘is by itself a potent means

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of moulding the social and cultural life of a nation’ (Minister of Information 1961: 284). The Board of Film Censors functioned under the provisions of the Cinematograph (Amendment) Act, 1957 and its role was to ensure that the policies of the government were upheld ‘with respect to sovereign rights of the Republic, rights relating to religion, raising of cultural and educational levels of the people, racial harmony and international relations’ (Minister of Information 1961: 285). In practice the board’s role was to ensure a consistent message was portrayed through film and recently introduced television.

Myanmar under military rule The 1962 coup and Ne Win’s Burma Socialist Programme Party (BSPP) rule saw Buddhism and Bamar culture overtly harnessed to promote national unity. Programmes were developed that actively used the arts, particularly performing arts, for propaganda purposes. In a translation of Ne Win’s rallying speech entitled Preserving and Enriching National Culture, Ne Win remarks ‘As I have said earlier, the Revolutionary Government considers that dramatists and artistes constitute a potential force for promoting national progress’ (Ne Win 1963: 7). Visual artists were engaged to create performances, film and artworks that portrayed a unified nation state. The 1964 Library, Museum and Exhibitions Monitoring Act put in place a framework of arts censorship that would be used to impose restrictions on creative arts through to the post-­2011 period. Run by a Supervision Committee the Act lists principles upon which decisions regarding public exhibition were assessed. The principles include vague ideals such as whether or not the works presented would disrupt security, law, discipline, peace, or disrupt a religion, or slander national benefit or oppose Myanmar traditions. With no guidelines against which to make any assessments the principles could be interpreted as generously or rigidly as the committee determined (Carlson 2016: 170). By the late 1960s to early 1970s culture was targeted as a rallying point for creating tensions between Myanmar and the international community, and among Burmese citizens themselves. Criticism was made of ‘undesirable elements of foreign cultures [are] being imported and spread by the stupid sophistication of the so-­called educated and elite’ (Guardian 1970: 5). Such remarks fed into the broader rhetoric of nationalism. Publicly, arts and heritage became inwards looking and engagement with international counterparts in the fields foundered. Management of regional cultural museums was transferred to the Ministry of Culture in 1972 and the collections also were nationalised. Art and heritage pretentions were used to assert legitimacy in this predominantly Buddhist nation. Just as U Nu oversaw renovations to key Buddhist sites such as Botataung Pagoda in Yangon and the Shwemawdaw in Bago, Ne Win sponsored pagoda restoration and building programmes. Nationalisation of many private enterprises during the 1960s, along with the ‘stay Order’ effective from 1963–73, had an unforeseen impact on Yangon’s older buildings. The law forbade the eviction of tenants even if they did not pay rent and this resulted in many buildings

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becoming run down (Seekins 2011: 98). Many colonial era buildings simply deteriorated beyond repair. One conundrum was how to manage the Secretariat building which dominated downtown Yangon. This had been completed in 1905, and in 1947 Deputy Chairman of the Executive Council Aung San and six colleagues were assassinated in a room in the complex’s southwest corner. Myanmar’s independence was proclaimed at the Secretariat on 4 January 1948 and the Secretariat was the legislative seat until 1962, the year General Ne Win took power (Rooney 2012: 24–5). As Ne Win’s government steadily lost popularity it was feared the site could become a rallying ground for activism; yet destroying the building would have been far too provocative given its role in Myanmar’s history of independence. In 2006 when the capital moved to Nay Pyi Taw the Secretariat was locked, only opening on Martyr’s Day each year. A similar story played out at other landmarks with particularly strong associations with past history such as the Pegu Club. Built as a gentleman’s club in the British tradition in 1882, it was a bastion of colonial superiority. While enjoying some patronage by the Burmese after independence, in 1962 it was nationalised, used as an officers’ mess, and later left to fall into disrepair (Rooney 2012: 142–4; Guyitt 2013). During the 1970s dire economic conditions and disengagement with the international community saw Ne Win’s BSPP’s public support for the arts languish. Myanmar’s first, and still running, private gallery, Lokanat opened in Pansodan Street in 1971 and was set up as an artists collective. With growing civilian unrest, artists and performers expressed popular dissent in their works; however, with limited international exposure their efforts were not widely known. Increasing government scrutiny put these artists at risk of imprisonment. For artists engaging in non-­political art practice, their isolation from international developments saw art practice stagnate. The BSPP’s isolationist policies are evident in the news reporting of the 1975 earthquake that severely damaged many temples at Bagan. The New York Times noted:  Because of the isolationism of Burma, amounting to virtual withdrawal from the world, the vast complex of pagodas and monasteries is hardly known except by historians and art scholars, and the disaster that struck on July 8 received little attention outside Burma. (Kamm 1975) Most post-­earthquake renovation was undertaken by the Department of Archaeology whose staff had scant knowledge of and virtually no access to contemporary international expertise. Construction was carried out with little consideration of the original architecture. Documentation of the materials and techniques employed, or records of before and after renovation, all basic heritage management methods, was scant. Overall the 1970s was a very difficult period for Myanmar’s arts and heritage. With a weak economy and limited tourism, it was difficult to sustain the skills of Myanmar’s traditional craftsmen and censorship of artistic works significantly

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restricted creativity. In the 1981/82 and 1984/85 Report to the Pyithu Hluttaw on the Financial, Economic and Social conditions of The Socialist Republic of the Union of Burma no mention is made of cultural activities (Ministry of Planning and Finance 1985). When the BSPP relaxed restrictions to foreign aid in the early1980s there was a brief flurry of international engagement which resulted in experts being brought in to map Bagan’s monuments. The eight-­volume work was later published with UNESCO support (Pichard 1992–2001). However, the 1988 Uprising which led to Ne Win’s resignation and power being seized by General Saw Maung under the State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC) marked the beginning of extreme suppression of artistic freedom and further stagnation of the arts and heritage sectors. SLORC, reconstituted in 1997 as the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC) used art and heritage to promote national solidarity through cultural uniformity rather than diversity – and specifically – it was a Bamar Buddhist uniformity (Houtmann 1999: 91). Spreading this centralist approach to culture was the role of the newly established Public Relations sub-­committee. Film stars, musicians, television crews visited numerous remote regions. Their visits were filmed and shown throughout Myanmar reinforcing the reach of SLORC/SPDC (Public Relations Sub-­Committee 1990: 87–90). SLORC/SPDC asserted their Buddhist credentials and at the same time offered some support to local craftspeople through their role in the ‘promotion, propagation and perpetuity of the Sasana’ (Ministry of Border Areas and NRD 1993: 73). It is recorded that 49 Buddha images were consecrated at the Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon to be distributed to monasteries, pagodas and temples in the Kokang and Wa regions. Books on Buddhist culture were distributed across the country including border areas ‘to enable the national races to recite and gain merit’ (Ministry of Border Areas and National Races Development 1993: 74). The reports are full of photographs documenting General San Shwe (Chairman of SLORC and Chairman of the Central Committee for the Development of Border Areas and National Races) and Maj-­Gen Khin Nyunt (Secretary SLORC and Chairman of the Work Committee for the Development of Border Areas and National Races) showing their Buddhist patronage through donation and paying obeisance to monks (Ministry of Border Areas and NRD 1990: 17–35). In spite of world condemnation following the 1988 uprising and subsequent house arrest of Aung San Suu Kyi SLORC attempted to reinvigorate Myanmar’s international heritage credentials. Bagan was nominated for UNESCO World Heritage listing in 1995. However, the submission was lacking in detail and requests to provide further information, a standard process of nomination assessment, was treated as a rebuff to the government. SLORC’s intent to meaningfully engage in international world heritage practices was questionable, as evidenced by the construction of a major new museum at Bagan which opened in 1996. Located within the most significant part of the Bagan archaeological zone it is one of the largest buildings on site and overwhelmingly intrusive. Villagers in Old Bagan were forcibly removed to a site 6 km away, known as New Bagan. This was ostensibly done for the protection of the area through controlling development. However, this was

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completely at odds with the museum construction, building of luxury hotels along the river, a golf course and viewing tower, and defied world heritage practices for living sites. SLORC built other grand cultural edifices including a new National Museum in Yangon which opened in 1996. All created a superficial vision of a prosperous and culturally sophisticated nation. The official rhetoric of positive government actions in the cultural sector is seen throughout the rest of the 1990s in government publications such as Myanmar Today. Yet once completed, the buildings were left to stagnate. Local visitation was minimal, as many Myanmar citizens avoided any involvement with SLORC-­generated projects. In 1992 national competitions for performing arts were introduced ‘to maintain[s] the national traditions and cultures but [is] also able to identify and nurture [sic] new breed of artists for the country’ (Myanmar Today 1998: 20). There is clear intent that this ‘new breed of artists’ would be highly conventional in their practice – freedom of expression in the creative arts was not supported. In 1997, when SLORC was disbanded and reconstituted as the SPDC, hard line censorship and disengagement with international communities softened marginally. Myanmar joined ASEAN the same year, opening up a network of cultural activities. In 2000 the Southeast Asian Ministries of Education Organisation (SEAMEO) was founded. With many subcommittees, the SEAMEO Regional Centre for History and Tradition was based in Yangon. This facilitated international conferences on art historical and cultural topics. International interest in Myanmar’s cultural heritage was keen but navigating official approvals to undertake research and run conferences was challenging. For example, in 2005 AusHeritage, a leading Australian heritage organisation, participated in a three-­day cultural heritage preservation workshop in Bagan assisted by another ASEAN organisation, the ASEAN Committee on Culture and Information (ASEAN COCI) (AusHeritage 2005). While very promising, follow-­up activities were difficult to organise. With sanctions still in place, there was limited public funding available to experts working in these fields restraining international expert engagement in arts and heritage. Many artist/activists were jailed in the early years of SLORC rule, and public display of contemporary art was heavily scrutinised. Into the 2000s exhibition approvals by censors was random at best. The 1964 Exhibitions Monitoring Act was used to refuse all manner of paintings and art practices. Nudes were excluded from public exhibition, perhaps for opposing Myanmar culture or ruining the moral behaviour of youths and children, both principles of the Act. Paintings of women with flowers in their hair could be construed as support for Aung San Suu Kyi; too much red might represent blood and reference uprising, thereby disrupting peace and security (Galloway 2018: 143–4). Through to the late 2000s artists remained under close watch and there was almost no communication between artists in Myanmar and the rest of the world. Few tourists visited and the local market for contemporary art was almost non-­existent. Writing about art also required careful thought. An important 2006 book on Myanmar art offers veiled comments about the government. In discussing art in the1960s ‘it was a time of

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searching, of learning, of new thoughts and trends in the works of foreign artists they could only see in magazines’ (Khin Maung Nyunt et al. 2006: 66). Regarding the 1970s ‘in spite of being strictly under the Ne Win regime, [it] was a time of great excitement and warm camaraderie for painters’ and ‘when the Ne Win system was abandoned and the economy opened up for private enterprise in the early 1990s … exciting repercussions shook the art community through more exposure to the world’ (Khin Maung Nyunt et al. 2006: 71). Authored by well known Burmese historians and writers, this publication is indicative of the self-­censorship that occurred frequently in Myanmar as people balanced the need to make information public, but also avoid government scrutiny and potential imprisonment. In the heritage sector, SLORC interest in international engagement did not always translate into positive outcomes. Even as late as the mid-­2000s a large walled compound containing an imagined version of the palace of Myanmar’s first great historical king, Anawrahta (r. 1044–84) was built within Bagan’s old city walls. Anecdotally its construction is seen widely as a merit-­making activity for the government who were perpetuating the Bamar Buddhist history of Myanmar. Such actions are almost deliberately provocative in a world heritage context and highlight the tensions in Myanmar of engaging with international best practice and expectations and maintaining ultimate sovereignty over their own country.

Thein Sein and the USDP Following the 2010 elections the newly elected Union Solidarity and Development party (USDP) embarked on a programme of reforms that saw significant advancement in arts and heritage. In 2013 the Censorship Board’s Rules for Art Exhibitions were amended. Still very vague – ‘exhibiting inappropriate artwork is not allowed’ being one rule – it is less heavy-­handed (Carlson 2016). Anything that creates conflict between ethnicities and religion is a specific principle and is representative of a marked shift away from SLORC/SPDC policies that promoted a unifying Bamar culture. The former randomness of censorship was highlighted in the 2014 Hong Kong exhibition ‘Banned in Burma: Painting under Censorship’. Curated by Melissa Carlson the exhibition included 50 paintings censored from 1962–2011. Carlson remarked in interview that many of the censors were completely out of their depth when trying to assess works through themes such as colour, subject and abstraction (Sokol 2014). With some public confidence of an expanding market, from 2014–15 at least 12 new art galleries opened in Yangon. Pansodan Gallery, one of Yangon’s best known art spaces opened Pansodan Scene, a venue for artist talks and discussion. In 2013 Pansodan Gallery owners Aung Soe Min and Nance Cunningham published an arts journal, Pansodan Art & Culture (Cunningham 2013–15). With articles in Burmese and English this was among the earliest publicly accessible independent art news journals in the post-­military rule era. Yet when reading the English language articles restraint is clearly felt. There are no comments that could be adversely construed as being critical of government. Being able to publish the journal was a big enough step. San Zaw Htway’s article ­published

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in September 2013 ‘The Art of Surviving in Prison 3’ makes no reference to why he was detained, nor is there any mention of government. The only comment that could be construed as critical of government occurs when San Zaw Htway remarks how prison workers were told by the authorities that any engagement with political prisoners would result in ‘many different kinds of punishments for disobeying rules, including conversing with us’ (San Zaw Htway 2013: 22). Perhaps the single most influential factor for artists and their practice was access to the internet. Social media became powerful tools for artists who, even if unable to afford international travel, could now access contemporary discourses on international art practices. Artists experimented with performance and installation art which have now become part of Myanmar’s contemporary art scene. The influx of foreign visitors boosted the market for both tourist-­related traditional arts and crafts, and contemporary art. The rise of Myanmar’s middle class has seen money become available to perform acts of dana, donation, on a large scale. Throughout the country new stupas, temples and monastic centres are being built with local and foreign donations. The demand for high level artisanal skills has increased substantially. Whether creating wooden carvings for grand hotels or private residences, the market has regenerated. International aid agencies are being involved in major heritage restoration projects. The World Monuments Fund is overseeing the restoration of the only surviving nineteenth-­century royal palace building, the Shwe-­nandaw Kyaung in Mandalay. As noted on their website ‘A cadre of skilled craftsmen are being trained in the forgotten Konbaung Dynasty on timber framing and carpentry techniques’, a reminder of skills lost since the colonial period (World Monuments Fund n.d). Under Thein Sein the Ministry of Culture’s role expanded significantly. The Department of Archaeology became the coordinating entity for all UNESCO engagement. When the USDP formed government Myanmar was the only ASEAN country without a world heritage site. The move towards democratic elections, and end of Aung San Suu Kyi’s house arrest prompted international encouragement to submit a site for world heritage nomination. Surprisingly it was not Bagan but the little-­known Pyu Cities, a series of three first-­millennium Buddhist sites, that were nominated and in June 2014 the Pyu Ancient Cities was inscribed on the world heritage register. International experts were engaged to assist with the nomination project and sector capacity building was embraced by the government. Three items were inscribed on UNESCO’s Memory of the World list – the Kuthodaw Inscription Shrines in Mandalay, the Golden Letter of the Burmese King Alaungphaya to King George 111 of Great Britain and the Myazedi Quadrilingual Stone Inscription (UNESCO Memory of the World n.d). The USDP initiated a new museum and national library in Nay Pyi Taw on a grand scale. In a marked shift from the SLORC/SPDC focus on a Bamar unifying culture the USDP has supported redevelopment of the regional cultural museums which languished under SLORC/SPDC rule. Local cultural and heritage groups have been set up, for example, the Sri Ksetra Heritage Trust which educates locals and nationals about the history and significance of the Pyu Ancient Cities. These

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organisations are playing an important role in reasserting Myanmar’s diverse ethnic histories. Again, social media sites such as Facebook facilitate community engagement. In 2012 the Yangon Heritage Trust (YHT) was founded by Dr Thant Myint-­U. Grandson of former UN Secretary-­General U Thant, Thant Myint-­U’s national and international influence has greatly assisted raising awareness of Yangon’s unique cityscape and colonial-­era heritage. YHT now plays a crucial role in protecting Yangon’s heritage buildings and provides strategic advice on heritage planning and building redevelopment to local and national government, and private developers. In the absence of comprehensive heritage and planning laws or local experience in heritage management, the Yangon Heritage Strategy prepared by YHT now informs local development (Thant Myint-­U et al. 2016). In the four short years of the USDP government the arts and heritage sectors were transformed. Public engagement with museums increased. Money was invested in training museum staff. The flow-­on effect of international engagement has offered many opportunities for reinvigorating traditional arts and crafts as well as contemporary art practice. Thein Sein’s reformist platform established a strong foundation of support for Myanmar’s arts and heritage.

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD Following the 2015 election and success of the National League for Democracy (NLD) censorship enforcement relaxed further and more private art galleries opened, particularly in Yangon. With many international sanctions removed the art scene in Myanmar expanded exponentially. An influx of tourists and expatriate workers has fuelled a demand for contemporary art. International recognition of Myanmar’s artists is increasing. For example Aung Myint (b. 1946) is represented in the Guggenheim Collection New York; Zwe Yan Naing (b. 1984) won the 2017 International Art Revolution Taiwan prize; in 2018 former political prisoner Htein Lin (b. 1966) was selected to exhibit a work in the prestigious Asia-­Pacific Triennale in Brisbane, Australia. Local art events are well publicised and international artists are visiting Yangon. The most high profile of these has been Wolfgang Laib, whose installation exhibition ‘Where Land & Water End’, was staged at the Secretariat in 2017 (Kalish 2017). Approving the Secretariat as a venue was highly symbolic and can perhaps be viewed as a public display of the NLD’s democratic intent. The museum sector is progressing rapidly with international assistance. In 2016 Myanmar became a member of the International Council of Museums (ICOM). Expertise in all areas of museum management such conservation, collection storage and exhibition display is being advanced by international training programmes and Myanmar staff are participating in workshops globally. Yet there are still significant weaknesses in the sector. There is no coordinated collection management system, making heritage objects vulnerable to theft and simple loss. Museums run on limited resources and have few funds to upgrade and care for displays once the initial, often foreign, funds are spent.

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Foreign confidence in the first years of NLD government has seen heritage objects repatriated to Myanmar. After the high-­profile return of an eleventh-­ century Bagan Buddha in 2013, in 2017 a New Zealand family returned Buddhist objects their ancestor had taken from the Shwemawdaw, Bago (Goldberg 2017). Largely driven by a moral imperative to return objects they considered had been taken illegally, it was also due to a perceived change to Myanmar’s governance that this was seen as an appropriate course of action. In 2017 Norway repatriated a nineteenth-­century Buddha image that had been illegally imported in 2011, a strong indication of the advances in international cultural cooperation that have occurred (UNESCO 2017). Under the SLORC/SPDC many treasures simply disappeared. YHT has recently been asked to advise the Ministry of Religious Affairs and Culture on the conservation of the State School of Fine Arts which is housed in the former Chin Tsong Palace. This building, in a hybrid British colonial and Chinese style, has attracted government interest in its restoration, in yet another sign of a policy shift that is endeavouring to engage with Myanmar’s diversity and history rather than promoting unity through a Bamar perspective (Aung Zaw 2015). Many colonial buildings are being restored, including the Secretariat. Confidence in the future has perhaps helped shrug off the negative colonial connotations that many of these buildings came to represent. The Pegu Club, for example, has now been restored and is promoted as a function venue that is resplendent for its architectural heritage (The Pegu Club 2020). Arts and crafts workshops in major cities and tourist centres such as Mandalay, Bagan and Yangon have regenerated. In the marble carving quarter of Mandalay the workshops are very active, and Buddha images are being shipped worldwide as well as being made to satisfy local demand. New temples and monastic centres, supported by the growing middle class and elite, generate work for all those involved in the traditional skills required to make objects for Buddhist accoutrements. These workshops are also busy filling orders for new residences and commercial premises throughout the country. Building on the UNESCO connections forged by the USDP, in 2016 a Myanmar Memory of the World Committee was established and since then the King Bayinnaung Bell Inscription has been added to the Memory of the World register. Supported by UNESCO, intangible cultural heritage guidelines have been translated into Myanmar language to assist local communities prepare submissions. In 2017 the International Council on Monuments and Sites, ICOMOS, approved the formation of a Myanmar National Committee. This has enhanced Myanmar’s engagement with international developments in heritage conservation. In 2018 the Union Government submitted the nomination dossier for Bagan’s world heritage listing and in July 2019 Bagan was inscribed on UNESCO’s world heritage register. During preparation of the dossier, in 2016 a major earthquake again hit Bagan. This time, international engagement was welcomed and encouraged. Experts have since been involved in comprehensive assessment of all sites, training local staff in conservation and preservation techniques, and numerous ongoing internationally

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funded projects have been established. A nomination dossier has been submitted for another significant Buddhist site, Mrauk-­U in Rakhine State and further nominations are being considered. While these developments appear very positive, some puzzling changes have occurred since the NLD came to power. The Ministry of Culture was merged with Religious Affairs and is now the Ministry of Religious Affairs and Culture. Connecting religion and culture together officially is a curious move and the rationale is not immediately apparent. Decisions by the Department of Archaeology, National Museum and Library have become reactive and are often retracted. Announcements have been made on banning balloon flights and temple climbing at Bagan, only to be overturned, presumably after pressure from competing tourist interests. Recently an announcement was made that visitors can spend only three days in Bagan, purportedly to protect the sites from excessive tourism (Maung Zaw 2018). Indications of the ineffectiveness of heritage laws are seen in the ongoing building of hotels within Bagan’s heritage zone (Ei Ei Thu 2018).

Conclusion: future challenges The pace of change in the arts and heritage sector has been dramatic in recent years. After decades of relative stagnation growth the public and private sectors are seeing a reinvigoration of artistic traditions. Contemporary art is now thriving. With a relaxation of censorship laws artists are expanding their repertoire. The painting styles are overtly more expressive and demonstrate themes that were previously unacceptable. Political and social commentary is no longer banned and artists are pushing boundaries, more confidently testing the Censorship Board’s authority. Enhanced opportunities for international engagement, through foreign artists visiting Myanmar and Myanmar nationals’ participation in international exhibitions is giving Myanmar artists the opportunity to become part of the international art network. Changes to planning laws offer some protection to heritage sites and buildings. The rise of community organisations with interest in preserving their own local traditions and histories should auger well for the future. Government support for recording intangible cultural heritage can be seen as a positive step towards national reconciliation through diversity rather than uniformity. Traditional arts and crafts have benefited from the move towards democracy. With the removal of sanctions and improved economic conditions demand for these products has grown significantly. There appears to be increased community interest in heritage evidenced by a rise in museum visitation. Most recently, however, there is concern that forward progress is faltering. Since the Rohyinga crisis (see Chapter 17) Aung San Suu Kyi’s international popularity has soured. In 2018, tourism declined by an estimated 40 per cent. Local sources suggest it increased in 2019 but is still well below 2018 levels. This has a significant flow-­on effect to artisans who produce traditional arts and crafts for sale, and contemporary artists who rely heavily on foreign buyers. There is disquiet over the

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rising use of Section 66(d) of the Telecommunications Law which restricts freedom of speech and expression (Burma Campaign UK 2017; Association for Progressive Communications 2019). After the SLORC/SPDC period public trust in government was eroded. During transition, while the USPD oversaw genuine reforms in art and heritage there was still little public trust as those in charge of delivering change were also those who previously punished those who expressed dissent. Now, the NLD is losing popularity as public expectations for change and social improvement have not been met. Uncertainty about the future leadership of the NLD and ongoing constitutional power of the Tatmadaw offer only uncertainty going forward towards the 2020 elections. Public trust in government is faltering again. In a country where extant residents have witnessed colonial rule, Japanese occupation, independence, a military dictatorship, transition and now a democratically elected government, the only certainty is change. Myanmar’s artistic traditions and heritage will continue to adapt. As history has shown, such traditions are resilient and enduring.

References Association for Progressive Communications 2019. ‘Are You Ready?’ Available from: www. apc.org/en/news/are-­y ou-ready-­n ew-film-­e xplores-how-­m yanmars-article-­6 6daffects-­freedom-expression, accessed 20 December 2019. Aung Zaw 2015. ‘The house on an island’. The Irrawaddy. Available from: www.irrawaddy. com/culture/the-­house-on-­an-island-­2.html, accessed 2 December 2018. AusHeritage 2005. ‘Myanmar Conference’. Available from: www.ausheritage.org.au/ news/2005/08/05/myanmar-­conference-3-aug-­2005/, accessed November 2018. Burma Campaign UK 2017. ‘Section 66(d) of the Telecommunications Law’. Available from: http://burmacampaign.org.uk/take-­action/free-­political-prisoners/section-­66-d-­ of-the-­telecommunications-law/, accessed November 2018. Carlson, Melissa 2016. ‘Painting as cipher: censorship of the visual arts in post-­1988 Myanmar’. Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia (31)1: 116–72. Cunningham, Nance (ed.) 2013–15. Pansodan Art and Culture Friday Journal. Yangon: Pansodan Gallery. DIUB (Director of Information Union of Burma) 1953. Burma 3.3. Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery. DIUB (Director of Information Union of Burma) 1957. Burma. The Ninth Anniversary, 7.2. Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery. DIUB (Director of Information Union of Burma) 1958. Burma. The Tenth Anniversary, 8.2. Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery. Ei Ei Thu 2018. ‘From boom to bust for Bagan Hotels’. Myanmar Times. Available at: www. mmtimes.com/news/boom-­bust-bagan-­hotels.html, accessed December 2018. Fabri, C L (ed.) 1936. Annual Reports of the Archaeological Survey of India for the Years 1930–31, 1931–32, 1932–33 & 1933–34 Part One. Delhi: Manager of Publications. Galloway, Charlotte 2018. ‘Arts’. In A Simpson, N Farrelly and I Holliday (eds) Routledge Handbook of Contemporary Myanmar. London and New York: Routledge, 136–45. Goldberg, Jacob 2017. ‘New Zealand family’s gift bridges 165 years, heals colonial wounds’. Coconuts Yangon, July 24. Available at: https://coconuts.co/yangon/features/new-­zealandfamilys-­gift-bridges-­165-years-­heals-colonial-­wounds/, accessed December 2018.

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Guardian 1970. Burma’s National Magazine. ‘Don’t sell out our mutual friendship’, vol. XVII No. 1. Guardian: Rangoon, pp. 4–6. Guyitt, Wade 2013. ‘A toast to the past’. Myanmar Times, 8 July. Available from: www. mmtimes.com/special-­features/168-food-­and-beverage/7423-a-­toast-to-­the-past.html, accessed November 2018. Houtman, Gustav 1999. Mental Culture in Burmese Crisis Politics: Aung San Suu Kyi and the National League for Democracy. Tokyo: Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, Institute for the study of Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa. Kalish, Lillian 2017. ‘Yangon’s Secretariat re-­opens for art exhibit’. The Myanmar Times. Available from: www.pressreader.com/myanmar/the-­myanmar-times-­weekend/20170113/ 282239485317376, accessed November 2018. Kamm, Henry 1975. ‘An earthquake in Burma ravages ancient shrines’. New York Times, 24 July. Khin Maung Nyunt, Sein Myo Myint and Ma Thanegi 2006. Myanmar Painting. From Worship to Self Imaging. Ho Chi Min City: Evo Publishing. Maung Zaw 2018. ‘Number of days for tourist visas to Bagan cut’. Myanmar Times. Available from: www.mmtimes.com/news/number-­days-tourist-­visits-bagan-­cut.html, accessed 4 December 2018. Ministry of Border Areas and National Races Development 1990. Measures Taken for Development of Border Areas and National Races (3). Yangon: Ministry of Information Government of the Union of Myanmar. Ministry of Border Areas and National Races Development 1993. Measures Taken for Development of Border Areas and National Races (1989–1992). Yangon: Ministry of Information, Government of the Union of Myanmar. Ministry of Planning and Finance 1985. Report to the Pyithu Hluttaw on the Financial, Economic and Social Conditions of the Socialist Republic of the Union of Burma 1984/1985 Rangoon: Ministry of Planning and Finance. Ministry of Information 1961. Burma Fourteenth Anniversary. Rangoon: Director of Information Government of the Union of Myanmar. Ministry of Union Culture 1955. Exhibition of Buddhist Art and Antiquities (courtesy: Government of India) January-­February 1955. Rangoon: Rangoon Gazette. Mitter, Partha 1994. Art and Nationalism in Colonial India 1950–1922. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Myanmar Today 1998. In Commemoration of Golden Jubilee Independence Day 1998. Rangoon: Ministry of Information Government of the Union of Myanmar. Ne Win 1963. ‘ “Preserving and Enriching National Culture”. Speech delivered by General Ne Win, Chairman of the Revolutionary Council, at the Opening Session of the Seminar of Theatrical Artistes in Rangoon, on May 23 1963’. Department of Information, 1 no. 21, 7 June 1963. Rangoon: Superintendent, Government Printing & Stationery. Nu Mra Zan 2016. ‘Museums in Myanmar. Brief history and actual perspectives’. In Naoko Sonoda (ed.) New Horizons for Asian Museums and Museology. Singapore: Springer, 16–36. The Pegu Club 2020. ‘The Pegu Club’. Available from: https://thepeguclub.com/, accessed 4 January 2020. Pichard, Pierre 1992–2001. Inventory of Monuments at Pagan, 8 vols. Paris and Gartmore: UNESCO and Kiscadale. Public Relations Sub-­Committee 1990. Measures Taken for Border Areas and National Races Development. Yangon: Ministry of Information Government of the Union of Myanmar. Ranard, Andrew 2009. Burmese Painting. A Linear and Lateral History. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books.

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Rooney, Sarah, in Association with the Association of Myanmar Architects 2012. 30 Heritage Buildings of Yangon. Inside the City that Captured Time. Chicago, IL: Serindia Publications. San Zaw Htway 2013. ‘The art of surviving in Prison 3’, trans. Pyay Way. Pansodan Art & Culture Journal 1(8): 22. Seekins, Donald M 2011. State and Society in Modern Rangoon. Milton Park and New York: Routledge. Sokol, Zach 2014. ‘The best of Myanmar &39’s censored art’. Available from: www.vice. com/en_au/article/wd4ba4/banned-­in-burma-­is-exhibiting-­the-best-­of-myanmars-­ censored-art-­122, accessed July 2019. Thant Myint-­U, Moe Moe Lwin, Rupert Mann and Hugo Chan 2016. Yangon Heritage Strategy. Combining Conservation and Development to Create Asia’s Most Livable City. Yangon: Yangon Heritage Trust. U Lu Pe Win 1958. ‘Some aspects of Burmese culture’. Journal of the Burma Research Society XLI(1 and 2): 19–36. UNESCO n.d. ‘Memory of the world’. Myanmar. Available from: www.unesco.org/new/ en/communication-­and-information/memory-­of-the-­world/register/access-­by-region-­ and-country/mm/, accessed 12 December 2019. UNESCO 2017. ‘Norway returns Buddha statue to protect Myanmar’s National Cultural Heritage’. Available from: www.unesco.org/new/en/culture/themes/dynamic-­contentsingle-­view/news/norway_returns_buddha_statue_to_protect_myanmars_national-­1/, accessed 10 October 2019. World Monuments Fund n.d. Shwe-­nandaw Kyaung. Available from: www.wmf.org/project/ shwe-­nandaw-kyaung, accessed 20 December 2019.

13 WOMEN’S RIGHTS Change and continuity Jenny Hedström, Elisabeth Olivius and Kay Soe

Introduction Despite a shift from absolute exclusion of women from positions of power during military rule to a semi-­civilian government with a female de-­facto head of state, gender inequality in Myanmar persists across the country at all levels (WLB 2008a; Minoletti 2016; WON 2016). While Myanmar is home to numerous ethnic groups with diverse cultures, norms and traditions, the work of women activists and scholars have nonetheless revealed widespread patterns of structural, customary and normative discrimination against women (Ikeya 2011; Harriden 2012; GEN 2015; Hedström 2016). Notably, this reality contrasts sharply with a popular official rhetoric about Burmese women’s ‘inherent equality’ with men; a narrative that has arguably done more to bolster the legitimacy of Myanmar’s governments than to improve women’s lives (Ikeya 2005; Tharaphi Than 2014). This chapter provides an analysis of change and continuity in terms of both opportunities and challenges for realising women’s equality in Myanmar. Taking the situation of women during military rule as a starting point, the analysis next moves on to explore women’s experiences of the transition and their attempts at leveraging political openings for gender equality under the current government, before concluding with a discussion of future challenges and opportunities for women’s rights in Myanmar.

Myanmar under military rule: repression and resistance From the coup in 1962 until the ushering in of a new quasi-­democratic government in 2011, Myanmar was under military rule. As Callahan (2007) notes, although the military attempted to consolidate its authority across all levels of governance and the country as a whole, people across time and space were differently affected

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by post-­coup politics. Moreover, the effects of military governance must be understood as being mediated by gender, ethnicity, urban/rural and conflict/non-­conflict settings, making generalisations about lived experiences of military rule difficult. With these caveats in mind, some broad themes nevertheless appear with regards to women’s rights and gender equality. In the aftermath of the coup the most immediate effect on gender equality relates to the enactment of strict pro-­natalist policies (including severely restricting access to family planning methods), and changes to military recruitment policies, under which female candidates could no longer join active army service (Spiro 1977; M Ismael Khin Maung 1979). Although some women remained in the State armed forces, none rose to senior positions (Silverstein 1990). During the years of the military regime, the public face of the military was almost exclusively male: only nine women were ‘elected’ in 1974, and thirteen in 1978, to the Pyithu Hluttaw (Silverstein 1990). In the 1990 elections, 2,296 candidates ran for election. The vast majority were men: 2,185 men versus 84 women. Fifteen women, or 3 per cent, won their seats; five were imprisoned after the elections (AAPPB and BWU 2004). This means that women’s opportunities to influence public policy were, at best, very limited. The official view espoused by the new regime was one of male dominance in the public sphere, and of women’s duty to reproduce the population within the private sphere (Burma Socialist Programme Party 1966). Post-­coup, the new administration became staffed by personnel drawn from the military. This largely remained true across time and administrations (Fenichel and Khan 1981; Khin Mar Mar Kyi 2014). These decisions served to constrain women’s opportunities to enact political agency by structuring social and intimate relations, limiting women’s access to both private and public decision making including to sexual and reproductive health and rights. This reinforced the notion of women’s duty as being firmly placed within the home, under the leadership of male patriarchs. Notably, a rhetoric about Burmese women’s ‘inherent equality’ with men – first used during the independence struggle to delegitimise colonialism – resurfaced (see Ikeya 2005; Tharaphi Than 2014) and became a means through which the post-­ coup regime attempted to achieve legitimacy in both the international and the national arena. The role and status of women, although officially relegated to the domestic, private sphere became a public concern. As an illustration of this, the official statement from the Burma delegation at the United Nations Fourth World Congress for Women in 1995 not only espoused the official view that women in Burma enjoyed equality with men, but suggested that other countries could in fact learn from Burma’s experience: ‘In the world today, women are constantly battling against inequality and discrimination. In this context, I feel proud to say that Myanmar women have been bestowed equality with men as an inherent right’ (Soe Myint 1995). By emphasising women’s empowerment as achieved through state sanctioned policies, Burmese women’s reputed equality became a means for demonstrating the nation’s progress, while discounting any need for international intervention (Ikeya 2011). Importantly, in denying a need for policies advancing

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women’s economic or social equality, this had the effect of reinforcing the dominant gendered division of labour in which women were denied access to power. Despite official narratives claiming women’s parity with men, the lack of interventions aimed at supporting and promoting women’s human rights made this line of reasoning flawed. Disastrous economic policies led Burma into being designated as a ‘least developed country’ in 1987 (Maureen Aung-­thwin and Thant Myint-­u 1992). Economic mismanagement resulted in chronic underdevelopment, high levels of food insecurity and widespread poverty (Belak 2002). Although there is a lack of reliable data relating to how poverty affected women in Burma, the 1973 and 1983 censuses provide important snapshots of how gender and poverty interrelate. Gendered norms positioned women with greater gendered responsibilities to ensure the welfare of their families. At the same time these very same norms mean that women have less access to socio-­economic and educational opportunities as compared to men. Strikingly, both the 1973 and the 1983 censuses reveal a significant gender gap in both illiteracy rates and labour force participation, with most women reportedly engaged in unpaid household duties (M Ismael Khin Maung 1986, 1997). This demonstrates that women in Burma had less access to the labour market, spent more time on unpaid household duties, and most likely had less socio-­economic wealth than their male peers. It is important to pay attention to this because extant research has demonstrated that women’s relative material inequality results in higher susceptibility to experiencing domestic violence (Miedema et al. 2016), less ability to negotiate safe sex and access reproductive health services, and undue exposure to unsafe migration patterns, including trafficking. Although baseline data are hard to access, research undertaken by health organisations indicates that close to 3,000 women died from pregnancy related conditions each year. In conflict-­affected areas this number was estimated to be more than three times as high (BMANHE and BPHWT 2010; Loyeret al. 2014; Hobstetter et al. 2015). Unequal access to and influence over legislative matters is reflected in the near-­ total absence of legislation focused on addressing and rectifying the violence and discrimination women in Burma experienced (Thin Thin Aung and Williams 2009). The paucity of domestic legislation of relevance to women’s substantial and formal equality heightens women’s exposure to experiencing violence and discrimination by creating a climate and a practice of impunity for gender-­based violations.1 Thus, as has been documented by local women’s groups and international human rights organisations, women in Burma were subjected to grave forms of gender-­based violence (see for example: Shan Women Action Network 2002; Woman and Child Rights Project (Southern Burma) and Human Rights Foundation of Monland (Burma) 2005; Karen Women’s Organization 2004). This was particularly the case in rural parts of the country, where armed conflict severely impacted on women’s access to human rights and gender equality. Under the military regime’s so-­called four cuts policy, an assumed link between ethnic minority communities and armed opposition groups resulted in the targeting of civilian communities by state forces in order to ‘cut off ’ food, fund, intelligence and recruits (Smith 2007). Women living in these parts experienced many forms of

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gendered insecurities, ranging from sexual abuse committed by state forces to intimate partner violence. In 2000, the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) noted its concern with human rights violations perpetrated by state military personnel against ethnic minority women, including rape, forced labour and trafficking (CEDAW 2000). Female political activists were subjected to particular forms of gender-­based violence, including incidents of rape and sexual abuse while imprisoned, a lack of access to hygiene kits and to midwives or doctors while pregnant and/or giving birth (AAPPB and BWU 2004). As the All Burma Student Democratic Front stated in 1995:  [the number of] women prisoners of conscience for their political belief [sic] and activities inside Burma, and thousands of women refugees with stories of extrajudicial execution, rape, forced labor, forced relocation and other kinds of ill-­treatment are all undeniable evidence of a pattern of massive human rights violations against women. (All Burma Student’s Democratic Front 1995) As recounted above, although women were, by and large, absent from holding formal positions of power, women were active across oppositional movements (Harriden 2012; Hedström 2016). As political activists, women organised student­led demonstrations protesting the military regime, and as members of non-­state armed groups, women joined military ranks to fight the dictatorship. These movements afforded women more opportunities than formal politics. Examples of important female leaders and activists during the military regime include Sao Nang Hearn Kham, who helped establish the Shan State Army; Louise Benson, interim leader of the Karen National Union’s Fifth Brigade; Mi Sue Pwint, first female member of the ABSDF ’s Central Committee; and former Prime Minister U Ba Swe’s daughters Naykyi Ba Swe and Nayye Ba Swe who were jailed for their roles in the 1975 demonstrations. Still, women were mostly found in supporting roles, making up the base as opposed to the leadership. Yet it is important to recognise that women’s involvement, whether as supporters or leaders, was indispensable to the success (or otherwise) of oppositional campaigns. Recent research has demonstrated that women’s work as nurses, messengers, foot soldiers and second-­tier leaders underpinned these movements – in fact made them possible (Hedström 2018). Many women rose to prominence during the 1988 uprising. In the aftermath of the crackdown on the demonstrations, previously urban-­based women activists fled to rural conflict-­affected areas where they were exposed to the impact of armed conflict on women’s human rights. This ultimately resulted in women leaders setting up the Women’s League of Burma (WLB), a multi-­ethnic women’s movement which mobilised women along the country’s borders and in ethnic areas to assert their rights collectively (see Olivius and Hedström 2019; Hedström 2016; WLB 2011).2 Despite their critical role in both armed and non-­armed oppositional movements, women were excluded from participating in negotiating the ceasefires

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agreed between the military regime and the leadership of ethnic armed groups. In the period after the 1988 demonstrations, and before 2010, over 30 ceasefires were agreed, but most were verbal agreements and input from any kind of civil society was, at best, minimal (Smith 2007; Hedström 2013; Lahtaw et al. 2014). International advocacy around the mistreatment of women’s human rights in ethnic minority areas became an important platform for action at this time, as opportunities to push for change inside the country were very limited. By documenting gender-­specific impacts of armed conflict on women, such as trafficking and sexual violence, women’s group were able to challenge and contest the government from the relative safety of neighbouring countries. Through participation in the CEDAW reporting process, and in particular advocacy around sexual violence committed by government soldiers against ethnic minority women, women’s groups created a narrative about women’s human rights abuses that countered the government’s official rhetoric, and which led to international pressure, including sanctions, being leveraged against the Burmese regime.3 The government’s concerted efforts to maintain the chimera of women’s ‘inherent equality’ despite evidence to the contrary appeared in the formation of a series of women’s organisations. By the early 2000 a number of different government-­ controlled organisations (so-­called GONGOS) had been established, or in the case of the Myanmar Maternal and Child Welfare Association (MCWA), re-­established. Following participation at the Fourth World Conference on Women, the government founded the Myanmar National Committee for Women’s Affairs (MNCWA), and a few years later, the Myanmar Women’s Affairs Federation (MWAF ). The Union Solidarity and Development Association (USDA), later known as the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP) made its first appearance. Female civil servants and family members of government and military personal were pressured to join in order to preserve the ‘soul of the Union’ (Houtman 1999). At the same time, the Unlawful Associations Act prevented independent women’s organisations from operating openly in the country, by monitoring and penalising women human rights defenders. In 2004 civil society groups reported that approximately 55 women were imprisoned for their political beliefs or activities (AAPPB and BWU 2004). Moreover, research undertaken by oppositional women’s groups showed that the leadership of the GONGOS were mainly made up of the wives of senior military commanders, while lower-­based membership was, at times, forcibly recruited (WLB 2008b). As a result, official activities seemed more committed to the creation of an impression of the government’s purported dedication to women’s equality, rather than to the creation of actual equality.4 Data from the Assistance Association for Political Prisoners Burma (AAPPB) show that between 1993 and late 2010 174 women were imprisoned for their independent political activities. This lack of attention to women’s equality had devastating consequences. In May 2008, Cyclone Nargis struck Burma. According to the United Nations, around 140,000 people died. The majority of those killed were women and girls. In the aftermath of the cyclone, civil society organisations reported an upsurge in domestic and sexual violence, women’s malnutrition, and critical reproductive health issues.

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It also led to an increase in household poverty, which pushed vulnerable women into unsafe migration and work patterns, including forced labour, trafficking and sex work (Akimoto 2008; Human Rights Watch 2010; Women’s Protection Technical Working Group 2010). Women’s restricted access to economic, social and political resources and opportunities prior to the cyclone aggravated their experiences of the disaster. However, the cyclone also gave rise to significant civil society mobilisation that would later flourish under less repressive conditions after 2011, and was the impetus for the formation of what would become an important women’s rights movement active in urban Burma (see www.genmyanmar.org/ about_us; also see Zin Mar Aung 2015). That very same year, 2008, the country’s third constitution came into effect. The drafting process had been a drawn-­out affair from which women were, by and large, excluded. Most delegates were hand-­picked, and the process was guided by an overarching mandate to produce a ‘ “constitutional” template for military involvement in all aspects of the body politic’ (Global Justice Centre and Leitner Center for International Law and Justice 2015: 17; also see Human Rights Watch 2008). Only 35 women out of a total of 702 delegates, 5 per cent, contributed to the process (Thin Thin Aung and Williams 2009: 276). In response, women in oppositional movements actively took part in an alternative constitutional drafting process, where they advocated for quotas and a gender inclusive language to ensure women’s participation across all aspects of governance (WLB 2006; Thin Thin Aung and Williams 2009). The shortage of women’s voices in the formal drafting processes is felt in the 2008 constitution which included several problematic provisions, including, inter alia, section 352 which notes that ‘nothing in this section shall prevent appointment of men to the positions that are suitable for men only’, sections 109, 141 and 161 enshrining (male) military power across critical areas of decision making, and section 381 providing soldiers with impunity for crimes, such as sexual violence, committed in conflict areas (Ministry of Information 2008). The effects of this gender order carried over to the new regime. As Burma entered a new phase with the elections in 2010, the previous regimes’ complete lack of institutional support for women’s equality, the absence of legislation protecting and ensuring women’s rights, widespread human rights violations including sexual violence targeted at women, and patterns of slow violence, as illustrated in very high maternal mortality rates, meant that women in Burma experienced widespread marginalisation from both formal and informal leadership opportunities. Nonetheless, both inside the country and on the borders, women were mobilising for change.

Thein Sein and the USDP: a transition for women? The tide of reforms that took place under U Thein Sein’s government must be understood against a background of stark gender inequality across political and civic life in Myanmar. The very real everyday gendered effects of decades of military and patriarchal dominance had resulted in women’s lower levels of literacy and education,

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higher instances of poverty and unemployment, and one of the highest rates of maternal mortality and infant mortality in the region (ILO 2015; Ministry of Labour Immigration and Population 2016; Myanmar Department of Population 2016). As the government spent less than 3 per cent of their budget on social welfare, gender norms situating women as the primary caregivers of their near and extended families pushed women into taking on critical caretaking responsibilities, picking up the slack for what the state should have been providing. The 2010 elections ushered in a new government, yet one in which women were –again – largely absent. Among elected representatives to parliament, only 6 per cent were women. At the state/regional level parliaments, the numbers were even lower: women won 3.8 per cent of seats. The military quota, functioning in effect as a quota for men, skewed the numbers further (Shwe Shwe Sein Latt et al. 2017: 3; ADB 2016: 157). Yet, a rhetoric about Burmese women’s inherent equality continued to be promoted throughout U Thein Sein’s rule, indeed remained the official position taken by the government in its engagement and participation in international fora related to women’s advancement. Positively, civil society activists took advantage of government promises for democratic reforms in the country. The years immediately following the 2010 elections saw a number of high-­profile returns of previously exiled political activists (Duell 2013: 99.) Laws pertaining to freedom of expression and peaceful protest and assembly led to an increase in political space (ADB 2014). The number of independent organisations operating inside the country grew substantially, including women’s organisations (Zin Mar Aung 2015). This gave rise to two different women’s movements emerging, one from their location on the border and one from the urban areas of the country. While the members of the WLB had always been overtly political in their opposition to the military government, women’s groups operating inside Myanmar had had to ‘tone down’ their political views in order to undertake activities. As one activist commented, the border-­based movement  deeply, really understand about the ethnic struggle … For inside Burma, even though they speak of the federal union, they don’t understand deeply … When it comes to the federal political system, for them, they think that they have to follow the law and listen to the government, and be polite.5 Although international aid to the country rose dramatically after 2010, with many donors seemingly eager to support work on gender equality, the border-­ based movement under the WLB umbrella faced shortages in funding due to their ‘exiled’ location. This movement, partly due to donor pressure, began to move more of their work inside the central and urban areas of the country (Olivius 2019). This prompted a rethinking of vision and strategies, and required women’s activists, on both sides of the border, to engage in serious trust building in order to create a national women’s movement. The opening of the country after the reforms facilitated a series of critical ‘bridging activities’ between exiled and internal women

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activists, which culminated in 2013 in the national Women’s Peace Forum, the first such event to be held inside the country. The forum became a milestone, one at which women across the country agreed on a set of common recommendations for advancing women’s substantial and meaningful equality in Myanmar (WLB and WON 2013). Importantly, policy advocacy targeting the government directly opened up as a new avenue for women’s groups to push for change. Whereas women in oppositional movements had previously been critiquing the government from afar, they now found themselves invited to high-­level meetings with government officials in the country’s capital. The focus of much of this advocacy was clustered around the need for new legislation advancing the rights of women, and protecting women from harm. In particular, the Protection and Prevention of Violence against Women (PoVAW) bill and the National Strategic Plan for the Advancement of Women (NSPAW) emerged as two areas of focus, and initially optimism was high around the ability of the women’s groups to effect change in these two areas. As commented by a woman political activist at the time: ‘Between 2010 and 2012 we could see certain visible improvements … So, we did have certain kinds of optimism. This momentum is going on, it will be getting better, closer to democracy.’6 However, it soon became clear that the government had little interest in advancing women’s rights. The PoVAW bill has not yet – at the time of writing – been passed; and while NSPAW was launched, the government did not dedicate a budget to its implementation. An ambitious peace plan, announced by the U Thein Sein government in 2011 and initially focused on bilateral agreements, morphed into a nationwide ceasefire process in 2013. Women’s participation in the peace process became an increasingly salient theme for women’s organisations with international funding directed towards increasing the number of women in this process. Despite much international focus, and the efforts of women’s groups, actual participation and influence of women activists in the peace process, whether these women were representing the government, civil society, or ethnic armed groups, remained low during U Thein Sein’s hold. The institutions guiding both the bilateral agreements, and later, the nationwide process, were ‘almost exclusively male dominated’ with an extremely low percentage of women participating officially (Hedström 2013: 6). For example, the Myanmar Peace Center, the Union Peace Working Committee (UPWC) and its leadership, the Union Peace Central Committee (UPCC) had – together – only two women working for them (Alliance for Gender Inclusion in the Peace Process [AGIPP] 2015: 15). When invited, women were mostly asked to comment on social issues, reaffirming essentialist notions of women’s roles and responsibilities. The determination to keep women out led men to perform some remarkable theatrics. At the first Panglong Conference, women participants reported that their input from discussions was deleted from the proceedings or their microphones were cut off when speaking. At other meetings, older men would simply remove their hearing aids when it was women’s time to speak. In addition, women were systematically invited late to meetings, as to prevent their participation, or meetings

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would be held in places they were told to not come to ‘for their own security’. One high level advisor for one of the armed groups, with more than 30 years of experience of working for both the women’s movement and the armed opposition, was told that the fact that she was a mother meant that she was not eligible to participate in the negotiations. At the same time, fighting resumed in many ethnic minority regions with devastating consequences for women and girls living in these areas. In 2014, women’s groups released a report detailing over 100 incidences of rape, including gang rapes, committed by government soldiers in conflict-­affected areas (WLB 2014). In Northern Myanmar, where some of the most persistent fighting took place, over 100,000 people were displaced, the majority women and their children. Displaced women and girls were exposed to a multitude of insecurities, such as domestic and sexual violence, severe malnutrition and reproductive health issues (GEN 2013b). Moreover, state repression and communal violence against Rohingya Muslims in Western Myanmar, spurred by an increasingly belligerent Buddhist nationalism, worsened severely. In 2012, anti-­Muslim riots in Rakhine State forced 150,000 to flee their homes amid horrific human rights abuses. Most of those who fled became internally displaced, confined to squalid camps in Rakhine State, while some managed to cross the border into Bangladesh, seeking shelter in already cramped existing refugee camps. In addition to violence and abuses targeting Rohingyas indiscriminately, Rohingya women were also subjected to gender-­specific abuses such as rape, sexual exploitation and trafficking (Abdelkader 2014; Olivius 2017). The rise of radical Buddhist nationalism as an increasingly salient political force in Myanmar also came to pose a new form of challenge to the advancement of women’s rights and gender equality more broadly. In 2014, allegedly in order to protect race and religion, the government drafted four bills that had been proposed by the Association for the Protection of Race and Religion, also known as MaBaTha and the 969 Movement. One year later, parliament passed the four Race and Religious Protection laws: the Religious Conversion Law, the Myanmar Buddhist Women’s Special Marriage Law, the Population Control Healthcare Law and the Monogamy Law. These laws limit women’s freedom to make decisions relating to marriage and reproduction, and particularly target Muslims and Muslim-­dominated regions. For example, the Buddhist Women’s Special Marriage Law stipulates a number of regulations constraining Buddhist women’s right to choose a non-­ Buddhist spouse, and the Population Control Healthcare Law imposes a 36-month waiting period before having children after marrying, and allows local authorities to determine birth spacing regulations in certain, often Muslim-­dominated, areas (Amnesty International and the International Commission of Jurists 2015). In response, women’s groups joined forces to collectively oppose the legislation on the grounds that it violated women’s human rights and did not comply with the CEDAW principles that Myanmar has committed itself to realising. Further, women’s groups warned against the potential of these laws to be used against religious minorities (Walton et al. 2015; Imam 2015). The increase in nationalist sentiments infused with religious fundamentalism provided a new impetus for women’s

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mobilisation, uniting diverse women’s groups to garner international and domestic support in highlighting the rise of fundamentalism and its potential threat to women’s rights to choose, have control over their bodies, and enjoy freedom of religion. As the 2015 elections came near, despite problematic legislative decisions, optimism for women’s activism remained high as the new elections offered women a platform for contesting the abuse of women’s rights in Myanmar.

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: two steps forward, one step back In 2015, Aung San Suu Kyi and her party, the National League for Democracy (NLD), won the national elections. The number of female parliamentarians doubled, and Myanmar got its first (de-­facto) female head of state (Minoletti 2016). However, in the run up to the elections, female candidates confronted a confluence of gender-­specific challenges restricting their abilities to stand for elections on an equal footing to men. Women’s relative poverty in comparison to men, the lack of institutional training or guidelines advancing female political candidates, societal norms framing men as natural leaders while positioning women as uniquely responsible for family welfare, and limitations of women’s travel, were just some of the obstacles female candidates faced (GEN 2015, 2017; Shwe Shwe Sein Latt et al. 2017). Only about 40 per cent of female candidates received any kind of funding to assist with their campaigning, and many women found it hard, due to both logistical and normative reasons, to undertake campaign travelling. Female voters in particular distrusted other women who engaged in what they deemed inappropriate political behaviour (Shwe Shwe Sein Latt et al. 2017), echoing findings from a 2014 survey in which just over 70 per cent of (both male and female) respondents believed that men made better political leaders than women (Asia Foundation 2014). Women’s responsibilities for household duties, evident in the country’s stark and substantial labour force gap (Ministry of Planning and Finance and the World Bank 2017), impacted women’s experiences of the campaign trail, with female candidates, and later elected members of parliament, attempting to balance their domestic duties with political duties. In short, whether in political office or not, women were still primarily positioned as uniquely responsible for caring for their families, and new openings for participation in politics did not change the gender division of labour (Shwe Shwe Sein Latt et al. 2017; also see Loring 2018). However, outside of formal politics, national women’s activism expanded significantly as state institutions became more welcoming towards women’s groups. This signified a considerable departure from the focus on international advocacy that had dominated their approach during the years of the military rule when it was not possible to advocate for women’s rights independently and openly inside the country. Border-­based and exiled organisations kept gradually returning, although some retained ‘one foot in exile’ with disagreement and conflicting positions on the feasibility and timing of return (Olivius 2019). Yet as donor funding shifted towards supporting organisations based in urban and central Myanmar, ambivalent women’s

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groups were in effect increasingly pushed to move around inside the country (Olivius and Hedström 2020).7 Women living in conflict areas continued to suffer military abuses, including sexual violence perpetrated by armed actors, yet international audiences were becoming less receptive to these gender-­based concerns. As noted with some despair by a women’s activist, ‘there is less and less interest in the lives of the people who are in the conflict areas’.8 In this context, women’s activists from ethnic minority organisations maintained the need to openly and vocally call out state-­ sponsored sexual violence against women in conflict areas. However, for reasons of personal security as well as political strategy, being outspoken on these issues within Myanmar was not yet possible. Thus, while a growing presence of women’s activism in Yangon enabled women’s organisations to engage with processes of policy change and work with state structures in new ways, for ethnic minority women their ‘return’ and rapprochement with the state came at a price. After the relocation of the WLB’s Secretariat from Thailand to Yangon in 2017, activists experienced an array of threats and constraints for their work, including denial of permits for political events and frequent visitations by the Special Branch to offices, meetings spaces, and homes of women human rights defenders. While there were a few years of relative freedom for civil society under U Thein Sein, leading to optimism regarding increased political space for women’s activism in Myanmar, activists experienced a narrowing of this space under the NLD government.9 Moreover, despite the presence of a democratically elected government with a leader widely regarded as a human rights advocate, state-­sponsored violence against ethnic minority civilians, including horrific sexual violence against women, reached new levels during this period. The already difficult situation for the Rohingya population in Rakhine State deteriorated dramatically after Rohingya militants attacked a border guard post on 9 October 2016. As a response, the Burmese military initiated a ‘security operation’ allegedly aimed at catching Rohingya militants, but resulting in widespread violence against Rohingya men, women and children as well as massive destruction of property (Human Rights Watch 2017). A 2017 report by the United Nations Human Rights Office of the High Commissioner, based on interviews with Rohingya who had fled from Rakhine State after the beginning of the crackdown in October 2016, details dreadful accounts of summary killings, arson, sexual violence and torture (OHCHR 2017). Many Rohingya villages were entirely cleared and burned to the ground, and villagers were killed or forced to seek shelter in overcrowded camps in Bangladesh. It is estimated that at least 742,000 people fled to Bangladesh (UNHCR 2019). In December 2019, the Gambia brought a case against Myanmar before the International Court of Justice for violating the Genocide Convention in relation to their treatment of the Rohingya, in particular the actions taken in the aftermath of the ‘security operations’ mentioned above. Myanmar’s defence at the court was led by State Counsellor Aung San Suu Kyi; she consistently denied that events in Rakhine State constituted genocide.10 Although the scale and intensity of abuses against ethnic minority civilians were specific to the Rohingya genocide, the patterns of the abuses were similar to those

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carried out by security forces associated with the Burmese government in other areas of the country, throughout the country’s civil war. Despite generally low public sympathy to the plight of the Rohingya community in the country and among government officials, this period saw interesting examples of women’s solidarity. For example, the Karen Women’s Organization (KWO) issued several statements condemning sexual violence against Rohingya women. As part of their 16 days of activism to end violence against women campaign in 2016, KWO strongly condemned the military and shamed Aung San Suu Kyi for being silent on this issue. Citing the frequency of rape and other abuses committed against women and girls in Rakhine State, KWO stated that  [w]e are deeply pained by these reports, which revive memories of similar horrors endured for decades by women in our communities at the hands of the Burma Army […] Our hearts go out to the Rohingya women and their families at this time. (KWO 2016)  In a context of widespread dehumanisation of the Rohingya community, this expression of cross-­ethnic identification and solidarity was significant and testified to the potential of women’s activism to bridge conflict lines (Cardenas and Olivius forthcoming; Cockburn 2000). The peace process initiated by U Thein Sein and institutionalised in the National Ceasefire Agreement (NCA) continued under the auspices of the new NLD government. A first meeting of the Union Peace Conference, named the Twenty-­First Century Panglong, was held in Naypidaw during the autumn of 2016. The representation of women was low, less than 7 per cent, and women’s organisations criticised the process for its failure to include civil society generally, and for its exclusion of some ethnic armed organisations that had not signed the NCA.11 A second Union Peace Conference was held in May 2017. Again, the participation of women was low, despite the nominal acceptance of the principle that at least 30 per cent of participants should be women; and women’s participation when it took place, as well as discussions relating to gender equality or to women, was strongly confined to the social sector theme. Very few women were involved in discussions relating to the political, economic, security, or land and environment sector, and policy proposals in these sectors rarely included a gender perspective (AGIPP 2017). Thus, within the framework of the official peace process, women and gender issues remained marginalised, with many key aspects of the peace-­building process treated separately from women’s rights. However, while women’s efforts to gain formal representation met with numerous challenges, women’s activists and organisations utilised back channels to informally influence the process, for example as technical advisors to ethnic armed organisations (EAOs) and through ‘tea break advocacy’. In addition, women’s peace­building practices at community level extended far beyond formal negotiations, as women’s groups organised a wide range of community peace-­building trainings that

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were essential to local conflict resolution and relationship building, contributed to greater local political awareness, and built capacity for political activism and representation in peace negotiations and policymaking. Further, the women’s movement itself embodied and exemplified a political order characterised by ethnic equality, dialogue and peaceful coexistence through alliances such as the WLB, WON or GEN. In addition, skilful use of international frameworks and norms, such as CEDAW and the UN Women, Peace and Security agenda, has long provided women activists with key resources and arenas for influence (Pepper 2018; Cardenas and Olivius forthcoming; Warren et al. 2018). Even though women activists in many ways experienced a narrowing of political space under the NLD, including marginalisation from the formal peace process, women’s activist networks across the country contributed in critical ways to community-­level dialogue and political mobilisation, preparing the next generation of women human rights defenders to advocate for their rights, whether under a gender-­inclusive government or not.

Conclusion: future challenges Importantly, the 2011 transition that followed the 2010 elections opened up new possibilities to push for change within the country, and facilitated women’s rights groups to engage in politics within Myanmar rather than criticising it from the ‘outside’. This served to reshape both forms and targets of activism, resulting in open conversations about gender equality and the importance of women’s participation in Myanmar politics. The return of the exiled women’s movement, increased space for civil society, in combination with international presence and support for the women, peace and security agenda in Myanmar contributed to breaking the silence around women’s marginalisation from politics. This signified a considerable departure from activism undertaken under military rule. Yet, formal politics is still dominated by men, facilitated by the power of the military apparatus which despite the elections of 2015 remains a constant. In fact, military presence has not decreased despite the elections and the peace process, and armed conflict continues to shape women’s lived experiences across the country. The persistence of armed conflict contributes to a significant general gender gap in key welfare indicators, while exposing women living in ethnic minority areas to human rights abuses directly related to the conflict, such as sexual violence perpetrated by armed actors. Moreover, the rise of radical Buddhist nationalism poses particular challenges to women’s rights, as does the crackdown on women human rights defenders. These developments suggest a shrinking of political space and raise concerns about the democratic transition backsliding. The stalling of key legislation pertaining to women’s fundamental human rights, such as the PoVAW law, while the four Race and Religious Protection laws were quickly approved, illustrates some of the obstacles faced by women’s rights and activism. Yet, the widening of the women’s movement that took place under the Thein Sein government represents opportunities in terms of broadening awareness for women’s rights within the country.

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Moving forward, a key challenge for the movement will be to strike a delicate balance between engaging with the state and criticising it in pursuit of transformative change.

Notes   1 In Burma, formal equality provisions found in the 1974 constitution were undermined by the lack of attention to women’s substantial equality, as well as by practices that discriminate against women (Constitution 1974). Moreover, legislation identifying, addressing and rectifying gender inequality is absent. There are for example no laws or legislation against domestic violence or rape in marriage if the wife is under 14 years of age. Under customary law, discriminatory practices pertaining to marriage, inheritance and gender-­ based violence weakens women’s claim to gender equality (GEN 2013a). In areas under the control of non-­state armed groups, legal authority is further fragmented by the existence of parallel legal systems (UN Women and Justice Base 2016). In short, there were (and still are) multiple judiciary systems effective in Myanmar. Yet none of these benefits women.   2 The WLB’s current member organisations are Burmese Women’s Union (BWU); Kachin Women’s Association – Thailand (KWAT); Karen Women’s Organization (KWO); Karenni National Women’s Organization (KNWO); Kayan Women’s Organization (KYWO); Kuki Women’s Human Rights Organization (KWHRO); Lahu Women’s Organization (LWO); Palaung Women’s Organization (PWO); Pa-­O Women’s Union (PWU); Rakhaing Women’s Union (RWU); Shan Women’s Action Network (SWAN); Tavoy Women’s Union (TWU); Women’s Rights & Welfare Association of Burma (WRWAB). See http://womenofburma.org for more information.   3 In 2002, the Shan Women Action Network (SWAN) published a report detailing human rights abuses perpetrated by the Tatmadaw against ethnic Shan women, called License to Rape. This was the first report released by a women’s group under the WLB umbrella specifically focusing on sexual violence committed by government soldiers, and framing that violence as a weapon of war. The impact was huge: the report was used as the basis for a position paper submitted to the UN, after which the regime felt compelled to respond, and ended up sending their own investigative team to Shan State (WLB 2011; Hedström 2016). After the publication of the report, other WLB women’s groups began documenting and releasing reports on women’s human rights violations in ethnic minority areas. See http://womenofburma.org/publication for more information about reports.   4 This led the CEDAW committee to remark on the near total absence of government-­ allocated funding going to these organisations and its practice of employing well-­ connected women rather than experts (CEDAW 2000).   5 Interview with women rights activist, Chiang Mai, Thailand, November 2018.   6 Interview with women’s rights activist, Chiang Mai, Thailand, November 2018.   7 Interview with women’s rights activist, Yangon, Myanmar, December 2018.   8 Interview with women’s rights activist, Chiang Mai, 7 November 2017.   9 Interview with women’s rights activist, Loikaw, Myanmar, December 2018. 10 See ICJ’s website: www.icj-­cij.org/en/case/178. 11 Interviews with women’s activists, Chiang Mai and Yangon, December 2016 and January 2017.

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Harriden, J 2012. The Authority of Influence: Women and Power in Burmese History. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Hedström, J 2013. Where are the Women? Negotiations for Peace in Burma. Stockholm: Swedish Burma Committee. Hedström, J 2016. ‘We did not realize about the gender issues. So, we thought it was a good idea’. International Feminist Journal of Politics 18(1): 61–79. Hedström, J 2018. ‘Reproducing revolution: a feminist political economy analysis of the conflict in Kachinland’. PhD thesis. Clayton, VIC: Monash University. Hobstetter, M, Cari Sietstra, Meredith Walsh, Jennifer Leigh and Angel M Foster 2015. ‘ “In rape cases we can use this pill”: A multimethods assessment of emergency contraception knowledge, access, and needs on the Thailand−Burma border’. International Journal of Gynaecology and Obstetrics 130(3): E37–E41. Houtman, G 1999. Mental Culture in Burmese Crisis Politics: Aung San Suu Kyi and the National League for Democracy. Tokyo: Institute for the Study of Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies. Human Rights Watch 2008. Vote to Nowhere: The May 2008 Constitutional Referendum in Burma. New York: Human Rights Watch. Human Rights Watch 2010. I Want to Help My Own People: State Control and Civil Society in Burma after Cyclone Nargis, Human Rights. New York: Human Rights Watch. Human Rights Watch 2017. ‘Burma: security forced raped Rohingya women, girls. Available from: www.hrw.org/news/2017/02/06/burma-­security-forces-­raped-rohingya-­ women-girls, accessed 20 December 2019. Ikeya, C 2005. ‘The “traditional” high status of women in Burma: a historical reconsideration’. Journal of Burma Studies 10(1): 51–81. Ikeya, C 2011. Refiguring Women, Colonialism, and Modernity in Burma. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. ILO (International Labour Organization) 2015. ‘Myanmar labour force, child labour and school to work transition survey report’. Available from: www.ilo.org/surveydata/index. php/catalog/1291. Imam, A 2015. The Devil is in the Details: At the Nexus of Development, Women’s Rights, and Religious Fundamentalisms. Toronto: Association for Women’s Rights in Development (AWID). Khin Mar Mar Kyi 2014. ‘Engendering development in Myanmar: women’s struggle for San, Si, Sa’. In Nick Cheesman, Nicholas Farrelly and Trevor Wilson (eds) Debating Democratization in Myanmar. ISEAS–Yusof Ishak Institute, 305–28. KWO (Karen Women’s Organization) 2004. Shattering Silences: Karen Women Speak out about the Burmese Military Regime’s Use of Rape as a Strategy of War in Karen State. Mae Sariang: KWO. KWO (Karen Women’s Organization) 2016. Karen Women Organization KWO Message: On-­ Going Use of Rape by Burma Army, 16 Days of Activism to Stop Violence against Women. Mae Sariang: KWO. Lahtaw, J N, N R Zahkung and N S Lahpai 2014. Civil Society Contributions to Myanmar’s Peace Process: Catalyzing Reflection. Yangon: SwissPeace. Loyer, A B, M Ali and D Loyer 2014. ‘New politics, an opportunity for maternal health advancement in eastern Myanmar: an integrative review’. Journal of Health, Population and Nutrition 32(3): 471–85. M Ismael Khin Maung 1979. ‘Population Trends in Burma’, Southeast Asian Affairs pp. 95–102. M Ismael Khin Maung 1986. The Population of Burma: An Analysis of the 1973 Census, no. 97. Honolulu: Papers of the East-­West Population Institute.

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14 MYANMAR’S CONTESTED BORDERLANDS Uneven development and ongoing armed conflict Busarin Lertchavalitsakul and Patrick Meehan

Introduction Stretching from the high mountains of the Himalayan massif in the north of the country to a long narrow strip of land in the south between the Andaman Sea and the Titwangsa mountains, Myanmar shares mainland borders with five countries. To the west and northwest Myanmar shares a short border with the Chittagong Division of Bangladesh and extensive borders with the states of Mizoram, Manipur, Nagaland and Arunachal Pradesh in northeast India. To the north and northeast, Myanmar’s border with China runs for more than 2,000 kilometres with the Tibet Autonomous Region and Yunnan Province. In the south and southeast, the country shares a short border with Laos and a border of almost 2,500 kilometres with Thailand. The country also has an extensive, contiguous maritime border stretching for almost 2,000 kilometres along the Andaman Sea and the Bay of Bengal. Within these international borders, the country comprises the lowland Irrawaddy River Valley surrounded by a vast horseshoe arc of hills that encompasses the Naga and Chin Hill Tracts and the Arakan Mountains in the west, the Hengduan Mountains to the north, the Shan Plateau to the east and the Tenasserim Hills in the southeast. The country’s distinct physical geography has shaped the relationship of the country’s borderlands with Myanmar’s putative centre and its neighbours. For centuries prior to British colonial rule, Burma’s kingdoms were centred on the Burman plains of the Irrawaddy Valley with contested and fluctuating claims over much of the ethnically and linguistically diverse upland areas that now comprise much of the country’s borderlands. Across the country’s highly porous maritime and land borders – some of which have never been fully demarcated – trade, migration and kinship networks, and flows of commodities, labour and capital have long connected Myanmar’s borderlands into regional and global circulations, and have had a profound influence on the country’s social, political and economic history (Sadan 2013; Chang 2014).

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Although it is beyond the scope of this chapter – which focuses on Myanmar since 1962 – to provide a detailed treatment of the impact of British colonial rule on the delineation of Myanmar’s borders, and the experiences of borderland populations, it is impossible to understand the nature of centre-­borderland relations in post-­colonial Myanmar without briefly addressing the legacy of colonialism. Under British rule, most of the country’s international borders were officially demarcated. Imperial cartography resulted in a much stronger association between state, territory, sovereignty and international borders, and led the colonial state to lay claim to territory and populations over which Burmese kings had historically exerted fluctuating sovereign claims. However, within these colonial borders, British rule divided the country between ‘Burma Proper’ – an area centred on the lowland plains that came under direct British rule – and the so-­called ‘Frontier Areas’, encompassing most of the country’s uplands where the British sought to govern through a system of indirect rule. This bounded but separately administered system of government entrenched the central state’s claims to govern the country’s frontier areas, but provided few foundations – in terms of administrative structures or an inclusive national project – upon which to do so. This colonial geography also helps to explain why in a Myanmar context, reference to the country’s ‘borderlands’ often refers to the extensive upland regions encircling the centre of the country. The British were aware of the anomalous status of the frontier areas and their relationship with ‘Burma Proper’, although addressing this issue was perpetually deferred. However, the impact of the World War II and the rapid dismantling of the British Empire truncated the time available, and the motivation, to address the tensions and contradictions in centre-­borderland relations. The priority for Britain’s colonial rulers was to establish ‘a united Burma in the shortest possible time’ to pave the way for a quick and orderly handover of power (Major-­General Rance, cited in Smith 1991: 77). The 1947 Panglong Agreement, agreed between the Burmese government under Aung San and Chin, Kachin and Shan representatives, paved the way for the administrative unification of the frontier areas and Burma proper to form an independent Burma, in which the frontier areas comprised 40 per cent of the country’s territory (Walton 2008).

Myanmar under military rule Attempts to assert control over the country’s borderlands have been a central dynamic of the state building agendas of successive post-­colonial governments, albeit a deeply conflictual one in light of the fact that the power and legitimacy of the state has been historically weak and contested throughout much of the country (Smith 1991). The incursion of Kuomintang (KMT) troops across the China border in 1949 following the end of the Chinese Civil War created a crisis for the newly independent state. The Burma Army’s inability to repel these troops, which by 1951 were gaining clandestine support from US bases in Thailand, and the subsequent fear of a Chinese invasion, revealed the profound weaknesses of state

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authority in borderland regions (McCoy 1991; Tun 2009). The KMT invasion also impacted upon power relations at the centre of the Burmese state, most importantly by providing the impetus for military reform through the 1950s which in turn enabled the Burma Army (known as the Tatmadaw) to wrestle control over state institutions (Callahan 2003). Tensions continued to grow throughout the 1950s regarding the relationship between central government and the country’s ethnic states. Efforts to address these tensions through political negotiation were curtailed by the 1962 military coup led by General Ne Win. Ne Win justified the military takeover of power through claims that the country’s constitutional democracy was incapable of protecting the country from external threats and internal fragmentation. The emphasis upon controlling ‘unruly’ borderlands and the threat posed by disloyal ethnic minority populations became deeply embedded in the psyche of military elites and the discourses used to justify military rule and the use of extreme violence against ethnic minority populations. However, as Ne Win’s government sought to establish greater authority throughout the country, borderland areas became a ‘privileged site of rebellion’ against the state (van Schendel 2005: 356). In part, this was linked to the country’s distinct physical geography: as the military government gradually pushed insurgent movements out of the delta and central Burma; the mountain ranges and dense forests that encompass much of the country’s border regions, coupled with limited road networks, provided a powerful physical buffer to encroaching military activities. Long-­standing cross-­border trade routes sustained armed groups by enabling them to access weapons and basic goods and to generate revenue through trade, as well as providing escape routes for civilian populations fleeing the armed conflict. China provided extensive support for the Communist Party of Burma (CPB) – headquartered along the China border, some of which the CPB funnelled to an array of armed groups throughout the country’s borderlands (Lintner 1990). Meanwhile, various armed groups along the Thai border received US and Thai support to act as anti-­Communist forces against the CPB and at times also the Communist Party of Thailand in northern Thailand. In the west, Burma’s fragmented insurgency was mirrored by the equally complex armed movements in northeastern India with armed groups regularly moving across this international border to evade their respective state armed forces. Borderland dynamics were also shaped by the economic mismanagement of Ne Win’s government. Burma’s population were required to navigate three economic systems: the official state-­controlled economy; the black market in domestic goods supplied by illegal traders that enabled people to circumvent government procurement and rationing (especially for rice, fuel and cooking oil); and the cross-­border black market in goods – ranging from foodstuffs and clothing to motorbikes and household appliances – imported illegally through the country’s porous borders and which became a key mechanism in financing border-­based armed groups. This situation invoked paradoxical responses from the state. For much of the Ne Win period, the role of the black market in satisfying domestic demand for goods the

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economy could not produce discouraged state efforts to tackle it (Hlaing Kyaw Yin 2003). However, the near bankruptcy of the state by the mid-­1980s in contrast to the wealth circulating in the black market ultimately inspired the government’s decision to demonetise the kyat in 1985 and 1987. This move wiped out many people’s savings and contributed to rising dissent that culminated in the 1988 nationwide anti-­government protests. Along the borders, foreign currencies (such as Chinese RMB and Thai Baht) have long been used alongside Myanmar Kyat for daily transactions, with people preferring – both historically and now – to save money in foreign currency due to the fear of government demonetisation and the instability of Myanmar currency. The country’s long-­standing armed conflict has created a tendency to view the country’s borderlands as shaped predominantly by the forces of state versus non-­ state ethnic armed groups. However, the dynamics shaping the country’s borderlands have never fitted simply into this binary dynamic. Many of the country’s borderlands contain minorities within minorities, and political authority has remained highly fragmented, comprising diverse interests, fluid alliances and informal structures of authority that do not fit easily into a simple state/anti-­state dynamic. There have been multiple long-­lasting local conflict fault-­lines between different armed groups and among borderland populations (at times stoked by the military as part of enduring divide-­and-rule strategies). These conflicts have often been especially intense along the country’s borders in light of the opportunities that these spaces offered in terms of controlling or taxing border trade – creating mosaics of fragmented sovereignty and overlapping territorial control. In southern Shan State, for example, KMT, CPB, Shan, Wa, Lahu, and Pa-­O armed groups regularly fought each other throughout the Ne Win era for control over territory and key trade routes. This posed huge challenges for populations living in these regions, and those who sought to flee armed conflicts by moving across the border (Lertchavalitsakul 2017: chap. 2).

Myanmar’s post-­1988 borderlands By the late 1980s, the state was close to bankruptcy, insurgency remained widespread throughout much of the country’s ethnic states, and the emergence of the National League for Democracy (NLD) led by Aung San Suu Kyi, following the 1988 nationwide protests, embodied a powerful political opposition movement that was able to win support across ethnic groups throughout the country. However, a number of developments began to fundamentally change the dynamics of the country’s borderlands. For a number of economic and geopolitical reasons, securing control over the country’s borderlands became central to the state building efforts of the State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC) – the new military administration established to replace Ne Win’s government in 1988 and which ruled the country after annulling the 1990 election result in which the NLD had won a landslide victory. Ne Win had attempted to pursue a strategy of import­substitution industrialisation financed by the export of agricultural surpluses,

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­ rimarily rice (with production centred in the delta region) and timber (Tin Maung p Maung Than 2007: 225). By the 1980s, this strategy had clearly failed: Myanmar had been the world’s largest rice exporter for a time in the 1950s, but exports never rose above 10 per cent of national production after 1972, and in 1987 the country applied for UN Least Developed Country (LDC) status in order to access debt relief (Dawe 2002: 364). As the new military government looked for opportunities to improve government revenue and stabilise the economy, the country’s borderlands – especially with China and Thailand – became highly coveted in terms of the potential they offered for generating revenue from cross-­border trade and resource extraction. This vision of the country’s borderlands as sites of economic opportunity and resource frontiers was mirrored by the country’s neighbours. Within China, these interests operated at multiple levels. At a national strategic level, Myanmar offered China access to the Bay of Bengal, providing an alternative route to the Malacca Straits for its energy supplies. Cross-­border trade and investment was also viewed as providing a way for China to stimulate economic development in the country’s internal landlocked provinces and address the country’s growing coast-­interior divide. Within Yunnan, political and business elites sought to capitalise on cross-­ border trade and investment to rebrand the province as a ‘bridgehead’ at the centre of the China-­Southeast Asia region, rather than the periphery of coastal-­dominated China (Summers 2013: 59–69). In Thailand, business elites advocated for improved political and economic relations with Myanmar as part of Thailand’s efforts to convert mainland Southeast Asia ‘from battlefields to marketplaces’ – a strategy Thai elites believed would make it the predominant merchant state in the region (Renard 1996: 108). Indeed, large-­scale cross-­border logging, fishery and gemstone concessions granted by SLORC to Thai businesses in 1989 played a pivotal role in staving off the immediate financial crisis facing Myanmar’s new military government (Bryant 1997; Zaw 2008). Alongside these formal concessions, deals struck between Thai businesses and various ethnic armed organisations (EAOs), especially for logging, also opened up new resource frontiers in borderland areas beyond Myanmar government control. These interests were also reflected in the Asian Development Bank-­funded Greater Mekong Sub-­Region (GMS) Initiative, launched in 1992 and designed to stimulate trade between Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, Yunnan Province (China) and Myanmar by establishing ‘economic corridors’ through borderland regions. In the west, India initially denounced the SLORC government but gradually looked to border trade and improved ties with the Myanmar government as a mechanism through which to promote economic development in the country’s northeast and to overcome the region’s insurgency (Egreteau 2003). This was reflected most clearly in the Indian Government’s ‘Look East’ policy, initiated in 1991, which sought to strengthen the country’s economic and strategic relations countries throughout Southeast Asia. Alongside these geopolitical shifts, dynamics within the country’s borders underwent a number of decisive changes. In the mid-­1980s the Myanmar Army won a

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number of decisive victories, notably around the key China-­Burma border towns of Panghsang – the headquarters of the CPB – and Muse. In 1988 the government legalised cross-­border trade through a number of government-­controlled trade gates, the most important being Muse in northern Shan State on the China border and Tachilek on the Thai border in Eastern Shan State. The 1988 Foreign Investment Law and the 1991 ‘Wastelands Law’ – which enabled the government to allocate large-­scale concessions of ‘fallow’ and ‘waste land’ (effectively including all customary and communal land, regardless of whether it was being farmed) – provided a legal framework for large-­scale resource extraction (Ferguson 2014; TNI 2012). Most dramatically, the new military government offered ceasefire agreements to EAOs, beginning with the four main splinter groups of the CPB, which had collapsed in 1988. These unofficial agreements did not address political grievances but did offer EAOs varying degrees of local autonomy, economic opportunities, promises of economic development assistance and an invitation to the National Convention to devise the country’s new constitution, in return for ceasing attacks against the government and severing ties with non-­ceasefire groups (Zaw Oo and Min 2007). The ceasefires brought stability to some of the worst affected conflict areas in Myanmar, notably northern Shan State and Kachin State, although this enabled the Myanmar Army to concentrate devastating attacks on non-­ceasefire groups throughout the 1990s, notably against the Karen National Union (KNU) in Kayin State, and throughout southern Shan State. Amid this continuing violence, the country’s borders continued to provide an important lifeline to populations, who often congregated in camps close to international borders or in large refugee camps across the border, especially in northern Thailand and in Cox’s Bazaar in Bangladesh, or who made the decision to migrate – temporarily or permanently – in search of jobs and safety. Along the China border, the ceasefires granted to former CPB groups (most notably the United Wa State Army (UWSA) resulted in greater levels of stability and the emergence of a number of highly autonomous ‘special regions’ (Kramer 2007). These regions have become increasingly integrated with China, as shown by their use of Chinese currency, language, time and mobile phone and internet networks. They have capitalised on their ambiguous status to generate vast revenue, much of it through casinos (officially outlawed in the rest of Myanmar, Thailand and China) and illicit cross-­border trade. The culmination of shifting geopolitical interests since the late 1980s, the military government’s efforts to wrestle greater control over the country’s borders, and the fragile stability generated by the ceasefires had a profound impact on the political economy of the country’s borderlands. Since the late 1980s, Myanmar’s borderlands have been shaped by a series of interconnected dynamics: a prolonged process of militarised state building, the emergence of an economic frontier in which borderland areas became key sites of resource extraction, and a stalled peace process that provided few foundations through which to address the country’s long-­standing centre-­borderland tensions. Militarisation became a means of securing a number of objectives simultaneously, enabling the government to continue to combat insurgency, to manage the

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ceasefire agreements brokered with armed groups, and to secure control over natural resources, trade and development sites located in contested border regions. Despite the vast increase in the national military budget, army units continued to be required to ‘live off the land’, with regional commanders expected ‘to meet their basic logistical needs locally, rather than rely on the central supply system’ (Selth 2002: 136; Callahan 2007: 46). The army also sought to establish a more comprehensive infrastructure of military control through backing a large number of local militias throughout the country, with heavy concentrations in contested borderland regions (Buchanan 2016; Meehan 2015). Thus, although the ceasefires reduced levels of outright armed conflict, ethnic minority borderland populations continued to be exposed to coercive structures of military authority and military abuses and violence – notably forced portering for the army, sexual violence, expropriation of goods (or forced purchase of goods below market prices) and arbitrary systems of local ‘taxation’ (KDNG 2007; KHRG 2016). Extensive militarisation went hand-­in-hand with a vast expansion in resource extraction. Since the 1990s, the country’s border regions, especially those bordering China and Thailand, have become central to the country’s crony-­controlled economy (Woods 2018). Vast revenues have been generated from logging, mining (jade mining in Kachin State was valued at more than US$30 billion in 2014, equivalent to 48 per cent of Myanmar’s annual GDP (Global Witness 2015), energy (primarily from hydropower dams), large-­scale land concessions, expanding cross-­ border trade, and various illicit economies, especially drugs (heroin and methamphetamines). Borderland economic transformation has been underpinned by establishing and enforcing, often through violence, highly unequal control over land and resources. These dynamics have exacerbated the insecurities facing populations after decades of conflict and underinvestment in rural development. These forms of borderland accumulation have played a central role in the changing political economy of the country, creating new sets of elites and generating the capital that has underpinned investments in infrastructure – roads, ports and airports – and real estate throughout the country (Meehan 2011). In some cases, large-­scale development projects have created new economic and strategic connections between the country’s borders, as evidenced by the oil and gas pipelines that now connect the deep-­sea port of Kyaukpyu on the Bay of Bengal in Rakhine State with Kunming, China, transecting conflict zones in northern Shan State. These border connections are also mirrored in the country’s illicit economies, with precursor chemicals from Bangladesh, India, China and Thailand reaching drug refineries along the China and Thai borders that then distribute heroin and methamphetamines across all of the country’s borders. As Kevin Woods’s analysis (2011: 751) of the Kachin-­China border area demonstrates, forms of ‘ceasefire capitalism’ have also played an important role in reconfiguring the dynamics of armed conflict and insurgency, often creating a strong synergy between state building and capitalism. The opening of an economic frontier in Myanmar’s conflict-­affected borderlands has channelled new investment flows into regions where state sovereignty has historically been weak. In these

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highly militarised regions, national and transnational corporations have looked to the state to ‘fix, regulate and expand capitalist spaces’ and to uphold and enforce their property ‘rights’ (Woods 2011: 751). This has resulted in the emergence of a powerful nexus of interdependent military, government and private sector power, comprising military elites, local militias, Myanmar business elites, cross-­border and international investors, and in some cases ethnic armed group leaders and businesses allied to them, whose political and economic interests are vested in institutionalising, rather than resisting, state control (Woods 2018). This is not, however, to suggest an uncontested or linear process of state consolidation. Long-­established economic and political cross-­border networks have continued to empower groups opposing central government. Inflows of investment and continued geopolitical interests in the country’s border areas have enabled these groups to also attract external support, for example through long-­standing business networks, friendships or kinship alliances, and/or by providing protection, intelligence or safe access to territories under their control. Even within the army, pressures on commanders to maintain stability locally, coupled with private business interests, have often resulted in enduring informal agreements and local alliances across supposed state/anti-­state binaries.

Thein Sein and the USDP Military elites have long justified their control over the country as a necessary bulwark against internal fragmentation, domination by the country’s powerful neighbours, and – following the country’s parlous economic situation in the late 1980s – as necessary for strengthening the foundations of the national economy. Myanmar’s post-­2010 transition and the launching of an official peace process is rooted in the fact military elites believed they were in a strong enough position to manage this transition on their own terms. Extensive militarisation and weakening insurgency enabled the central government to assert greater control over long-­ contested borderland areas. State coffers, almost bankrupt in 1988, had been replenished in large part through the extraction of resources from borderland areas, increased cross-­border trade and the movement of commodities – especially offshore gas and oil – through former conflict-­affected areas. Rapprochement with the West also offered a means of counterbalancing the country’s reliance upon China as protector and investor. The Thein Sein government brokered ceasefire agreements for the first time with a number of EAOs, notably the KNU and the Restoration Council of Shan State (RCSS). However, the post-­2010 political transition also coincided with the breakdown of ceasefires and renewed violence and armed conflict in other parts of the country. This has included the mass atrocities and renewed insurgency in Rakhine State, and worsening armed conflict in Kachin State, where the Kachin Independence Army (KIA) 17-year ceasefire broke down in 2011, in the Kokang region on the China border, across much of northern Shan State . Since 2010, these areas have experienced some of the worst violence and human rights abuses in

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decades, internally displaced persons (IDPs) now number in the hundreds of thousands, and there have been mass movements of people across the country’s borders to escape the violence. In order to understand why parts of the country’s borderlands have suffered renewed armed violence at the same time as the country’s national political transition, it is important to analyse how the same culmination of political, social and economic processes that encouraged military elites to believe they were in a strong enough position to manage the country’s transition simultaneously triggered renewed armed conflict. In Kachin State and northern Shan State, nearly two decades of ceasefire experiences created a deep distrust in promises of political dialogue, peace and development. Myanmar’s ‘transition’ in 2010–11 came at a time of crisis – from the perspective of many EAOs and borderland populations – in the ceasefire system of the previous two decades (Brenner 2015; Sadan 2016). This included a legitimacy crisis, in which the leadership of various EAOs became tarnished by claims that they were profiting from the exploitation of the people and environments they claimed to be protecting; a crisis of strategy, as the hope that ceasefire agreements would pave the way for more meaningful political dialogue faded away; and a military crisis, as EAOs faced increasing pressure from the Myanmar army. Under the formal peace process launched by the Thein Sein government, the prospects for peace in Myanmar’s borderlands continued to be shaped by three competing pressures: the interests of powerful military elites who viewed the peace process as a mechanism through which to enforce compliance of EAOs, rather than enter into genuine political dialogue; scepticism among EAOs and borderland populations towards the rhetoric of ceasefires, political dialogue, and the inclusive development that surrounds the peace process; and complex and at times conflicting cross-­border pressures and alliances surrounding security and business interests. The influence of China on the dynamics of war and peace in Myanmar’s borderlands has been particularly pronounced, and epitomises the importance of understanding the transnational dimensions of Myanmar’s post-­2010 peace process. China’s decision in the 1980s to draw down its support for the CPB and strengthen relations with the Myanmar government played an important role in underpinning the initial ceasefire agreements along much of China’s borders. Weapons sales, protection in the UN Security Council, and increased investment and border trade from China were all important in strengthening military rule during the SLORC/ SPDC era. Between 1988 and May 2018 China invested more than US$20 billion in Myanmar (Lwin 2018). For business and political elites in Yunnan especially, cross-­border trade and investment was viewed as an essential component of the province’s development strategy. Furthermore, in 2013, China announced its Belt and Road Initiative, aimed at improving China’s connectivity with Europe, Central Asia, and South Asia. The China-­Myanmar Economic Corridor (CMEC) that will link Kunming to the Kyaukpyu deep-­sea port in Rakhine State is an integral part of this initiative, and represents one of the largest injections of foreign direct investment in Myanmar in recent times. Both the Chinese and Myanmar governments

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have emphasised the importance of peace and stability along the countries’ borders for the Belt and Road Initiative (Xinhua 2017). Yet, the perceived benefits of stabilising Myanmar government control in borderland areas to provide a more secure environment for Chinese trade and investment have been counterbalanced by the continued willingness of Chinese businesses to operate informally with an array of non-­government actors. The Chinese government remains wary of western influence in Myanmar’s borderlands, which grew under the Thein Sein government following the country’s formal transition and the easing of western sanctions, and continues to see the benefits of maintaining a buffer zone that limits Myanmar military presence along its border. The influx of refugees has also increased concerns in China about ongoing counter-­insurgency offensives along its borders, especially following renewed armed conflict in the Kokang region in 2015, which saw an estimated 40,000–50,000 refugees enter China (DVB 2015). The reliance of border-­based EAOs on maintaining support from China, and the fact that some border areas are much more closely integrated culturally, politically and economically with China, arguably makes them more pliant to Chinese interests than Myanmar military elites, which remain wary of China’s influence in Myanmar. Chinese security forces and business elites have thus maintained enduring formal and informal relationships with various ethnic armed groups and elites across its borders. In areas that have experienced renewed armed conflict, ethnic minority populations continue to be viewed as partisans to the conflict, and consequently face continued violence and systematic discrimination. They have faced the same kinds of threats and systematic abuses – land mines, forced recruitment and portering, widespread sexual violence, arbitrary taxation and expropriation and restrictions on movement – that were prevalent during previous periods of counter-­insurgency. In borderland areas that came under ceasefire agreements signed during the Thein Sein period, populations have benefited from the subsequent de-­escalation of outright armed conflict. However, current ceasefire experiences in many ways continue to replicate the dynamics of previous ceasefires under the previous military government. ‘Peace through development’ remains the dominant mantra towards the country’s borderlands with few opportunities emerging for meaningful political dialogue, while the opportunities for development and the subsequent benefits of peace continue to be captured by elites. For example, increased stability has been accompanied by predatory land grabs from the military, army-­backed militias, EAOs and national and trans-­national businesses (often allied with these various armed groups) and profound land insecurity for the majority. The 2012 ‘Vacant, Fallow and Virgin Land Law’ – an updated version of the 1991 ‘Wastelands Law’ – demonstrates the government’s continued refusal to recognise ethnic customary land tenure systems, and grants the government the right to reallocate land without official title to domestic and foreign investors. Many borderland populations remain extremely poor, vulnerable and marginalised, with the threats to their livelihoods previously posed by armed conflict being replaced by new forms of highly unequal and exploitative ceasefire development (TNI 2013).

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Throughout the period of Thein Sein’s USDP government, heavy pressure was placed on EAOs to sign the Nationwide Ceasefire Agreement (NCA), while many international actors expressed frustration at their reluctance to embrace the peace process and to capitalise upon the ‘window of opportunity’ for peace. However, the rush to engage in Myanmar was based on a problematic framing of the country’s transition and the opportunities this offered for addressing the underlying drivers of violent conflict throughout the country’s borderlands. A deeper engagement with the systems of power and fragmented political structures throughout the country’s borderlands, previous ceasefire experiences, the entrenchment of military authority and the continued approach to borderland regions as sites of extraction and accumulation, all provide important starting points for understanding why there has been such scepticism among EAO leaders and civil society more broadly towards the rhetoric of ceasefires, political dialogue, inclusive development and empowerment that surrounds the peace process.

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD Aung San Suu Kyi’s landslide victory in the 2015 general election inspired renewed hopes of finding a durable political solution to the long-­standing tensions between the central state and the country’s ethnically diverse borderlands that would provide the foundations for sustainable peace. Aung San Suu Kyi’s universal appeal and a widespread sense that a powerful national movement was needed to address deeply entrenched military authority and initiate deep-­seated reforms enabled the NLD to win support throughout the country. The NLD’s pledge to reform the country’s military-­drafted constitution, Aung San Suu Kyi’s emphasis upon making peace and reconciliation her government’s top priority, and her decision to launch a series of Union Peace Conferences to provide a forum for more substantial political dialogue regarding issues of federalism, revenue-­sharing and the future status of EAOs, all appeared to rejuvenate the peace process and provide a platform for addressing deep-­seated grievances experienced by the country’s borderland populations. However, the shocking violence mobilised by the army and police against the Rohingya population in Rakhine State in 2016/7 (see Chapter 17 in this book) and intensified counter-­insurgency campaigns in Kachin State and northern Shan State have seen some of the worst instances of bloodshed in borderland regions in decades. The peace process has stalled and the NLD government has failed to address the continued forms of marginalisation, discrimination and growing inequality and disparity that shape everyday lives across Myanmar and which are particularly pronounced in the country’s borderlands. A number of factors are important in explaining this. First, the military remains the de facto authority throughout the country’s borderlands, with the 2008 constitution – which the NLD has been unable to change – enshrining military control over the key ministries of Defence, Home Affairs and Border Affairs. The military continues to view the peace process as secondary to its priorities of securing, pacifying and controlling contested

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t­erritories as part of long-­standing efforts to consolidate state authority. Furthermore, since the NLD came to power the emergence of parallel civilian and military structures has complicated borderland power structures as formal institutions have been layered upon long-­standing informal systems of communication and governance. Under the Thein Sein government, it was often easier for EAOs to communicate with the Myanmar Army in order to address localised outbreaks of conflict and ceasefire infringements. Under the current system, the army has become less responsive – often claiming to be acting in the interests of the democratic government – creating huge challenges regarding how to access key decision makers. Second, the NLD government has continued to advocate many of the same approaches towards borderland regions as its predecessors, repeating calls for peace through development with limited acknowledgement of the highly unequal power structures that underpin resource extraction and development and the grievances of local populations. Within the peace process the NLD has continued to pressure armed groups to sign the NCA amid a peace process underpinned by continued efforts at assimilation on the government’s terms, rather than creating meaningful opportunities for political dialogue. Third, the NLD has proved powerless to address many of the grievances facing borderland populations, notably land insecurity, drugs, violence and the destruction created by various forms of extraction and development (such as deforestation, mining and dam building). The difficulties in addressing these grievances is not only rooted in the lack of technical or bureaucratic capacity and resources; it is also a result of the fact that attempting to address these issues threatens to undermine existing borderland power structures and destabilise the fragile governance structures that have emerged between different borderland actors in regions of highly fragmented sovereignty. For example, in the Myanmar-­China border town of Muse, through which approximately 70 per cent of border trade with China passes, drug use is prevalent, army-­backed militias operate freely and an array of illicit activities – including casinos, brothels and contraband – thrive (Kyaw Lin Htoon 2018). These activities have become deeply embedded in the mechanisms through which the Myanmar Army has sought to stabilise and extend control over contested borderland regions over the previous decades. Army-­backed militias, for example, have played important roles as counter-­insurgency forces, as well as providing local security around major development sites. In return, many have gained lucrative business opportunities – including in the drug economy and in border towns as a way of maintaining their loyalty and enabling them to be self-­financing (Meehan 2015). Many militias have also established business ties with investors across the border in China, creating powerful cross-­border incentives to uphold rather than challenge the status quo in places such as Muse. These kinds of pragmatic localised deals between different borderland groups have had a huge adverse impact on local populations – experienced through high levels of drug addiction, gambling-­related debt and continued insecurity – but have generated significant wealth and power for a narrow clique of political, business and military elites. Gains have been privatised and the risks socialised, creating a system in which the challenges facing

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­ orderland populations in places such as Muse are deeply rooted in the very foundab tions of borderland governance structures that emerged during the ceasefire period.

Conclusion: future challenges The state’s efforts to assert authority across the country’s borderlands – often through violence and coercion – and the multiple forms of resistance and negotiation these strategies have elicited from an array of armed actors, pursuing their own forms of sovereignty and territorial control, are central to Myanmar’s post-­ colonial history. Although remote from the centres of formal political power in Yangon and Naypyidaw, the dynamics of Myanmar’s contested borderlands have played an integral role in shaping the formation of the Myanmar state and the national economy. Borderland armed conflicts paved the way for the expansion of the country’s military and the justification by military elites of the institutionalisation of military authority. Resource extraction, cross-­border trade (both legal and illegal) and large-­scale development initiatives centred in the country’s borderlands have been fundamental to the country’s national economy, especially over the past three decades, generating vast revenues for the central government, creating new sets of elites, and providing much of the capital that has been invested in the country’s infrastructure and real estate. Indeed, since the late 1980s, it has been in the country’s borderlands that the Myanmar government proved most willing to first experiment with abandoning the strict state regulation of the economy practised under General Ne Win, to embrace private investment, and to experiment with new forms of neoliberal development. Indeed, far from being marginal, the country’s borderlands have been important laboratories of political and economic change. However, the political and economic transformation of the country’s borderlands since the late 1980s has been underpinned by forms of continued violence and local bargains struck between government, EAOs, local militias and business elites, rather than durable political solutions to the country’s long-­standing issues surrounding the distribution of power between centre and borderlands. The ability and motivation of the NLD government to understand and address these challenges and to provide effective responses to the insecurities facing borderland populations remains extremely constrained. These difficult realities reveal the need to better understand the kinds of power structures that have materialised in the country’s borderlands and the challenges these structures pose to achieving the kind of peace and development needed to address the grievances facing borderland populations.

References Brenner, D 2015. ‘Ashes of co-­optation: from armed group fragmentation to the rebuilding of popular insurgency in Myanmar’. Conflict, Security & Development 15(4): 337–58. Bryant, R 1997. The Political Ecology of Forestry in Burma. London: Hurst.

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Buchanan, J 2016. Militias in Myanmar. Yangon: The Asia Foundation. Callahan, M 2003. Making Enemies: War and State Building in Burma. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Callahan, M 2007. Political Authority in Burma’s Ethnic Minority States: Devolution, Occupation, and Coexistence. Washington, DC: East-­West Center; Singapore: ISEAS. Chang, W 2014. Beyond Borders: Stories of Yunnanese Chinese Migrants of Burma. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Dawe, D 2002. ‘The changing structure of the world rice market, 1950–2000’. Food Policy 27: 355–70. DVB (Democratic Voice of Burma). 2015. ‘Tens of thousands flee war, airstrikes in Kokang region’. DVB, 12 February 2015. Egreteau, R 2003. Wooing the Generals: India’s New Burma Policy. Delhi: Authors Press. Ferguson, J 2014. ‘The scramble for the Waste Lands: tracking colonial legacies, counter­ insurgency and international investment through the lens of land laws in Burma/ Myanmar’. Singapore Journal of Tropical Geography 35: 295–311. Global Witness. 2015. Jade: Myanmar’s ‘Big State Secret’. London: Global Witness. Hlaing Kyaw Yin. 2003. ‘Reconsidering the failure of the Burma Socialist Programme Party government to eradicate internal economic impediments’. South East Asia Research 11(1): 5–58. KDNG (Kachin Development Networking Group). 2007. Valley of Darkness: Gold Mining and Militarization in Burma’s Hugawng Valley. Myanmar: KDNG. KHRG (Karen Human Rights Group) 2016. Ongoing Militarisation in Southeast Myanmar. Myanmar: KDNG Kramer, T 2007. The United Wa State Party: Narco-­Army or Ethnic Nationalist Party. Washington, DC: East-­West Center; Singapore: ISEAS. Kyaw Lin Htoon 2018. ‘Militia groups in Muse: swagger and impunity’. Frontier Myanmar, 22 October 2018. Lertchavalitsakul, B 2017. ‘Living with four polities: states and cross-­border flows in the Myanmar-­Thailand borderland’. PhD thesis. University of Amsterdam. Lintner, B 1990. The Rise and Fall of the Communist Party of Burma. London: Cornell University Press. Lwin, N 2018. ‘China, Myanmar agree 15-Point MoU on economic corridor’. Irrawaddy, 6 July 2018. McCoy, A 1991. The Politics of Heroin: CIA Complicity in the Global Drug Trade. Chicago, CA: Lawrence Hill & Co. Meehan, P 2011. ‘Drugs, insurgency and statebuilding in Burma: why the drugs trade is central to Burma’s changing political order’. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 42(3): 376–404. Meehan, P 2015. ‘Fortifying or fragmenting the state? The political economy of the drug trade in Shan State, Myanmar, 1988–2012’. Critical Asian Studies 47(2): 253–82. Renard R 1996. The Burmese Connection: Illegal Drugs and the Making of the Golden Triangle. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers. Sadan, M 2013. Being and Becoming Kachin. Histories beyond the State in the Borderworlds of Burma. Oxford: Oxford University Press/British Academy. Sadan, M (ed.). 2016. War and Peace in the Borderlands of Myanmar: The Kachin Ceasefire, 1994–2011. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Sai Aung. Tun 2009. History of the Shan State from Its Origins to 1962. Bangkok: Silkworm Books. Selth, A 2002. Burma’s Armed Forces: Power without Glory. Norwalk, MI: EastBridge. Smith, M 1991. Burma: Insurgency and the Politics of Ethnicity. London: Zed Books.

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Summers, T 2013. Yunnan-­A Chinese Bridgehead to Asia: A Case Study of China’s Political and Economic Relations with its Neighbours. Oxford: Chandos Publishing. Tin Maung Maung Than 2007. State Dominance in Myanmar. The Political Economy of Industrialization. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. TNI (Transnational Institute) 2012. Financing Dispossession. China’s Opium Substitution Programme in Northern Burma. Amsterdam: TNI. TNI. (Transnational Institute) 2013. ‘Access denied: land rights and ethnic conflict in Burma’. Burma Policy Briefing Nr 11. Amsterdam: TNI. van Schendel, W 2004. The Bengal Borderland: Beyond State and Nation in South Asia. London: Anthem Press. Walton, M 2008. ‘Ethnicity, conflict, and history in Burma: the myths of Panglong’. Asian Survey 48(6): 889–910. Woods, K 2011. ‘Ceasefire capitalism: military–private partnerships, resource concessions and military–state building in the Burma–China borderlands’. Journal of Peasant Studies 38: 747–70. Woods, K 2018. The Conflict Resource Economy and Pathways to Peace in Burma. Washington, DC: US Institute of Peace. Xinhua. 2017. ‘Xi says China willing to assist Myanmar in peace progress’. Xinhua, 16 May 2017. Zaw, A 2008. ‘Thai Premier’s “flashback” visit to Burma’. Irrawaddy Magazine 16 April. Zaw Oo and Win Min 2007. Assessing Burma’s Ceasefire Accords. Washington, DC and Singapore: East-­West Center.

15 ETHNICITY, CULTURE AND RELIGION Centralisation, Burmanisation and social transformation Violet Cho and David Gilbert

Introduction Myanmar society is characterised by ethnic and religious diversity and fragmentation. The government view is that the country is composed of 135 ‘races’, or taingyintha, literally ‘sons of the nation’, with taxonomies from 8 to 135 ‘races’ highlighted by the state (Cheesman 2017). This taxonomy serves multiple purposes. One is an attempt by the state to unite diverse groups into a single, unified nation to the exclusion of so-­called ‘alien races’, such as Hokkien and Haka Chinese, Tamil, Punjabi and Rohingya. Another purpose is to justify the role of the military in national politics, and ‘non-­disintegration of the union’ has been a central slogan of military rule. ‘Bamar’ as the majority ethnic category makes up around 60 per cent to 70 per cent of the population. However, mainstream usage inside the country does not ordinarily classify Bamar as a taingyintha, as ethnicity is a minoritising discourse in Myanmar. This is unsurprising as majority identities are often taken for granted. The erasure of Bamar ethnic status, and the presentation of Bamar-­ness ‘as the norm’ reflects Bamar privilege, a privilege that is ‘invisible to itself ’ (Walton 2013: 5–6). In Myanmar, ethnic and religious identities are strongly interrelated.1 Religious practices and texts are often in minority languages and religious institutions play an important cultural role in promoting literacy and fostering particular forms of ethnic identity. As an example, for many Chin, Naga and Kachin, ethnic identity involves being Christian and Mon, Shan and Arakan ethnicity is often equated with being Buddhist. The ethnicisation of religion has also been strategic, since limitations on civil society has meant that religion is one of the few spheres where there is some autonomy from state control. Since 1962, culture, religion and ethnicity have been key areas for the contestation of power, conflict and resistance. This has meant there have been numerous attempts by the state to control and construct cultural

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identity in particular and attempts by ethnic and religious actors to practise alternatives. The transition to democracy has meant some changes as the state has increasingly moved to support and safeguard limited forms of cultural diversity; however this has taken place alongside new forms of bureaucratisation and continuing mistrust that has ensured further tension.

Myanmar under military rule: Burmanisation and its discontents Ethnic unity has been a key goal for successive military governments, exemplified in slogans such as ‘union spirit’. The model of the union was such that Bamar could maintain cultural superiority and Buddhism was religiously superior. This model therefore deepened and further institutionalised Burmanisation. ‘Burmanisation’ is used to describe the process in which ethnic and religious minorities are forced to adopt various aspects of Burman culture, speeding their assimilation into the Myanmar ‘cultural nation’, while at the same time ridding them of those cultural elements that are deemed dangerous to national stability or contrary to the spirit of national unity. (Walton 2013: 11) Burmanisation has been a central force in the cultural politics of Myanmar since independence in 1948. While part of the impetus for the military takeover culminating in the 1962 coup was the perceived threat to stability of U Nu’s attempts at casting Buddhism as a state religion, the Socialist Party created a highly centralised system that continued to favour the dominant culture, that of Bamar, and the dominant religion, Buddhism. This involved a number of policies that heavily restricted cultural and religious practices, in an attempt to create a nation with a particular type of citizen. Demographically, Burmanisation involved a programme of forced migration. Soon after gaining power, the Ne Win regime undertook a campaign to cleanse the nation of ‘alien races’. The state began seizing the property of Indian residents and throughout the 1960s estimates of 200,000–300,000 individuals of Indian descent were repatriated, with the majority going to India (Egreteau 2014). Many had never been to India and ended up settling in ‘Burma colonies’ (Egreteau 2013). In the reverse direction, delegations were sent to the Andaman and Nicobar Islands to incentivise islanders of Burmese descent to return, with offers of cash, land and jobs. The majority of Bamar on the islands took up the offer, along with a small number of Karen, some of whom moved into the seized property of expelled Indians. In the first years of military rule, the regime pursued their own programmes to promote ethnic and religious minority cultures, which had a mixed reception. From the mid-­1960s, the socialist government oversaw the production of knowledge on ethnicity, including the identification and categorisation of races, languages and descriptions of cultural forms. While this was methodologically similar

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to colonial knowledge production, following western scientific disciplines, the underlying rationality was a limited construction of ethnic diversity that could fit within state ideals of Burma as a unity of indigenous ‘races’. One key ethnological project called Ethnic Culture and Traditions was through a consortium of the universities of Yangon and Mandalay and Moulmein College. The stated aim, outlined in the Preface, is to produce knowledge about ethnic minorities for the purpose of unity:  By knowing each other’s cultures, we can foster good will and unity. In order to have a good relationship, it is important to understand each other’s nature. This book will support the goodwill of ethnic nationalities and the endurance of the Union. (BSPP 1967: vii–viii) Only five ethnic groups were to be included: Kayin, Kayah, Kachin, Chin and Shan, although it was later expanded. It was symbolically launched on the eighteenth anniversary of Union Day, organised in Pa’an, the capital of what was formerly called Kawthoolei State, now called Karen State. Researchers from Yangon University and Moulmein College conducted interviews with 512 representatives who attended the Union Day ceremony on aspects of ethnic culture and traditions. After that, researchers joined with Mandalay University History Department and formed seven groups to do fieldwork in seven states; 2,458 people were interviewed over the research period of 45 days. Groups did further studies in the Irrawaddy Delta and Shan plateau (BSPP 1971: 14). By 1966, documentation was complete and books representing each of the main ethnic minority regions were published by the Burma Socialist Programme Party (BSPP 1967: vi). One of the positive features of the university consortium project was involvement of ethnic minorities in carrying out the research. Under the Union Ministry of Culture, each state has a cultural department that was involved in the research. Field interviewers were also supposedly from ethnic minority groups, led by university researchers. The project states that ethnic minorities should produce knowledge about themselves and their histories and thus the project is also a form of epistemological decolonisation (BSPP 1967: iv). However, this knowledge production was only about ‘Others’ – as Bamar were not included. The exclusion of Bamar, the ethnicity associated with state power, demonstrates the privilege of the ethnic majority, being able to control who is an object of anthropology. Education has been a key domain of cultural struggle since the beginning of the military dictatorship, between the centralising state with a narrow view of how to manage diversity, and ethnic and religious minorities that wanted educational autonomy. Schools that taught in ethnic minority languages operated during British colonial times and the parliamentary period. In some cases, these were linked to religious institutions, including Karen schools linked to the Karen Baptist Convention (KBC). Mon schools were established by the Office of Mon Affairs under Prime Minister U Nu’s office. Ethnic minority schools were staffed by teachers and

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elders from their communities and curricula used in these minority schools were developed autonomously. For instance, in the 1950s KBC published a series of textbooks for schools that included a Karen literature and culture curriculum with both oral (traditionally-­based) and contemporary stories and poetry. By 1965, all schools were nationalised, with education brought under centralised control. Property was seized, some being converted to state schools and some being confiscated. For instance, the Hinthada Karen High School, in the compound of the Karen Baptist Seminary, was seized by the government in 1963. The land was confiscated and fenced off from the rest of the seminary grounds. It is now being used as a state­run computer training centre, to the dismay of the local Karen community, who have been trying to reclaim the grounds without success. The Mon language programme at Moulmein College was shut down with a Burmese major in its place. Even though Mon schools were previously run by the state, Mon teaching was stopped as schools were brought under a central, Burmese-­language curriculum. Teachers were also centrally controlled and rotated so that in ethnic minority areas, teachers who spoke the local language of their students were rarely employed in their local schools. Some schools also compelled students to participate in daily Buddhist rituals, penalising students who refused. A Kachin student described regular punishment for refusing to participate in Buddhist rituals and for taking leave on Christian holidays. Children were also held back for a lack of competence in Burmese language, and those who wanted mother-­tongue education for their children were forced to flee to the insurgent areas where ethnic minority schools were established, although these were largely limited to the major minority languages. The education system was a key part of Burmanisation and systematised inequality between Burmese and non-­Burmese native speakers. Throughout the successive military regimes, there were significant but diminishing territories controlled by ethnic armed organisations (see Chapter 5). In many of these areas, minority cultures and religions were strongly promoted. All main ethnic armed organisations had their own education department, with their own curriculum, often in the minority language. Curricula also included local cultural and historical content, as a way to counter Burmanisation, achieve cultural autonomy and support ethno-­nationalist objectives. In some ethnic areas, problematic power dynamics mirrored Burmanisation, where a particular cultural or religious group dominated smaller minorities, often in the name of ‘unity’.2 For instance, in areas controlled by the Karen National Union (KNU), schools were often run by Christian, S’gaw Karen speakers. Christianity was often promoted, forcing Buddhist and animist students to participate, much in the way that Buddhism was often unofficially promoted in Burmese government schools. S’gaw Karen was the language of instruction and the language used across the KNU, to the detriment of the many non-­S’gaw speakers. This contributed to a split in the KNU in 1995, where a large number of Buddhist Karen members formed the Democratic Karen Buddhist Army (Gravers 1993, 2015). Similar struggles over diversity took place in territory controlled by the Chin National Front (CNF ) and Kachin Independence Organisation (KIO), where Hakha and Jingpaw languages were respectively

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dominant, also creating internal conflict and fragmentation. In some contexts, Burmese language was de-­prioritised, as a way to increase cultural difference and also counter Burmanisation. In schools run by the Shan State Army (South), where there was a common language, Burmese was not taught at all. Graduates were therefore unprepared for the later transition, when there were opportunities to return to Myanmar. In contrast, schools administered by the Karenni National Progressive Party (KNPP) used Burmese as a medium of instruction, in part because the majority Kayah language lacked a common alphabet, although one was later invented, and also as a way to manage internal linguistic diversity. For Karenni minority groups, such as Kayan and Kayoh, there would be greater perceived potential for discontent if Kayah was used as the language of instruction in schools and for official business. In state-­controlled areas, limited space for language and cultural education was available, increasing in the 1970s. For instance, churches typically included language training as part of Sunday School and would promote language through the bible and hymns. Ethnic minority languages and religions were also taught to novices and monks in monasteries. Some monasteries kept important historical literature and cultural artefacts, acting as a museum, archive and library. In 1974, the Mon Literature and Cultural Committee was established in Yangon and could successfully register with the government, on condition that they stay away from anything that could be seen as ‘political’. In the following decades, many other ethnic minority groups established their own culture and literacy organisations and could gain some space to operate, as long as they closely restricted themselves to the narrow, state-­sanctioned form of unity in diversity. The state was particularly wary of links to ethnic armed organisations. Ethnic language publications had to be translated into Burmese in order to pass the censorship board and permission was needed for public cultural events. Often, government officials would be guests of honour during cultural days, a form of mutual co-­optation, where state officials could demonstrate recognition of a tightly restricted form of ethnic diversity and ethnic minority cultural leaders could demonstrate their subservience to the state. Often the promotion of ethnic minority language and culture was carried out in a decentralised way through civil society rather than the state. This meant that some townships with competent cultural leaders could promote cultural and linguistic skills effectively, whereas in other townships it could be non-­existent. As policies of Burmanisation continued, cultural skills also diminished in some areas, while in others leaders went into exile, where they could more openly develop minority literatures and cultures. Ethnic minority university students played a leading role in the promotion of language and cultural practice. Since the 1970s, groups of students have begun publishing magazines and going into villages to teach during the summer break, through ethnic literature and cultural organisations; however they had to contend with a strict regime of censorship and heavy surveillance. The narrow space for literary culture hindered the development of ethnic languages and identities. While Burmese literature involved vigorous debate and movements, including social realism, postmodernism and literary criticism, ethnic

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minority literatures, partly because of their reliance on tightly controlled cultural and religious organisations, were largely limited to texts promoting culture and religion, as well as the exploration of historical sources such as stone inscriptions. This then also served to perpetuate stereotypes of ethnic minorities as conservative and/ or ‘uncultured’ (Cho and Gilbert 2014). Language constantly evolves but the political dynamics during the military period meant less dynamic space for ethnic minority languages to evolve and for experimentation through the production of new forms of literature and popular culture. Cultural space was similarly hindered, as tolerated cultural practices were restricted to traditional rituals such as Rakhine Buddhist New Year and Chin Khuado and pro-­government ethno-­nationalist performances, such as Union Day, which commemorates the signing of the Panglong Agreement to create the Union of Burma in 1947. However, tightly controlled cultural festivals were so frequent and encouraged by the state that some ethnic minority cultural leaders sarcastically talk about the socialist period as an ‘era of festivals’. Festivals could showcase state sponsored diversity and keep attention away from forms of ethnic culture and religion that threaten the state. The abundance of large-­scale cultural festivals ended in 1988, when there was an increased bureaucratisation of public space and tight restrictions on public gatherings. After the 1988 student-­led uprising, universities were closed down and student­led cultural activities were suppressed. Many ethnic minority students were politicised and went to border areas and exile to work with ethnic armed groups, where cultural promotion was an overt part of resistance. Within state-­controlled areas, minority language and cultural work became more reliant on religious institutions, which could still operate after 1988. In Mon, Karen and Pao areas, for instance, monks increasingly taught language over summer instead of students and the government could tolerate it as a religious activity. Monks continue to play a key role in language and cultural promotion and maintenance for Buddhist ethnic minorities. The majority population of Burma is Buddhist and Buddhism is a central part of national culture, identity and politics. After destruction of traditional monarchical forms of authority in the colonial period, Buddhist practice was largely decentralised. As Ingrid Jordt (2007) has shown, an absence of central religious authority gave greater power to the laity. As a consequence, a mass meditation movement flourished during the military period, which cultivated a particular Buddhist understanding of morality, legitimacy and citizenship. In other words, meditation could be seen as a form of resistance to military domination but in a way that did not involve overt forms of protest and which operated within a cosmological system in which military generals also had to participate and seek authority from. In contrast, nat spirits also provided mass access to a morally ambiguous form of power. Subservient to Buddhism, the nat cult involves the worship of spirits of local and mythical figures who died a violent death and whose spirits live on in particular locales across Myanmar. There is an annual calendar of festivals to pay homage to each spirit and a profession of mediums who facilitate relations between worshippers and  the spirits. Whereas vipassana meditation involves the cultivation of critical

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s­elf-­insight as a form of power, spirit mediumship works according to a logic of gift giving and reciprocity. If obligations are not met, a spirit can become angry, which can be dangerous. During the military period, religious practices came under the many regulations imposed on gatherings, speech, culture and information, however, local religious movements continued, sometimes underground. While for many, life under the military involved suffering, economic hardship and despair, these lay forms of religious practice involved an alternative powerful space for citizens to come together and engage in communal action. From the late 1970s, the state began work to centralise and regulate the Sangha community of monks, from a largely decentralised network of a number of Therevada orders that lacked a regulatory power. In 1980, the state convened the first Congregation of the Sangha of All Orders for Purification, Perpetuation and Propagation of the Sasana. The nine Therevada Buddhist orders that were recognised by the Department of Religious Affairs at the time were unified and brought under state regulation through the ruling Sangha Council, which was organised at each level of administration, from national to village tract. A ban was put in place on the creation of new orders and splits. To purify the Sangha, a registration system with identity cards was established and the Buddhist examination system was standardised (Tin Maung Maung Than 1988). A concerted effort was put in place to disrobe monks that were seen as contravening Buddhist orthodoxy, whether as a result of moral digressions or alternative religious practices. Monks with alternative interpretations of Buddhist scripture were outlawed and sometimes imprisoned. Purification and centralisation of the Sangha was popular in the Buddhist heartland and gave the state a new form of religious legitimacy that it did not have previously, analogous to the role of the monarchy in pre-­colonial times, which was also the protector of Buddhism. However, on the periphery, it also involved a politics of Burmanisation. In Pwo Karen communities of eastern Myanmar, syncretic and esoteric forms of Buddhism were popular and there have been a number of new religious movements, linked to Buddhism, since colonial times. Buddhist practices have included rival movements to build pagodas and create sacred space, within the sphere of influence of the Sangha Council, outside of it and in the case of Thamanya Sayadaw, in a neutral position between the state and oppositional forms of Buddhism. After 1980, the state exerted greater power over local forms of Karen Buddhism, even appointing a Bamar abbot to the most symbolically important monastery on Mount Zwekabin, near Pa’an. However, as Yoko Hayami (2011: 1103) argues, in many instances, Karen ‘devotees are self-­claimed Buddhist, yet outside the center’s delineation of Buddhism, so that even as they align themselves with Buddhism, they are by no means aligned with the central power’. Mon monks were also contending with the politics of Burmanisation after the establishment of the Sangha Council. In the new exam system, monks had to provide explanations in Burmese. A movement of Mon monks resisted this and boycotted the registration process, which later led to the toleration of Mon language in the Sangha accreditation system.

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Thein Sein and the USDP: cultural resurgence in transition Soon after coming to power, the Thein Sein government liberalised telecommunications, opening the country up to foreign operators, which led to a rapid roll out of phone coverage across the country. Mobile phone and internet access spread exponentially. In 2005, only 0.1 per cent of the rural population and 0.4 per cent of the urban population owned a phone. By 2017, 76.7 per cent of the rural population and 93.4 per cent of the urban population had a phone and many were on social media. The internet created a fundamental change in information and communication and has had a profound effect on culture and religion. Through Facebook and YouTube, content creation was democratised so information and cultural creation could take place at local levels, outside of the purview of the state. The network effect meant internet users could now actively engage and distribute content.3 It also brought users in Myanmar in touch with the large diaspora populations of refugees and migrants spread throughout East, South and Southeast Asia, Australia, New Zealand, Europe and North America. While diasporic populations had experimented with multiple forms of media in significant ways since the 1988 uprising, they soon had access to a large population of web users around Myanmar and populations inside and outside of the country could interact. A key exception to this was a ban on mobile phone ownership for the Rohginya population of Rakhine State. According to Human Rights Watch (2013), ‘Rohingya who are found by the authorities to own mobile phones have been fined large sums by Nasaka or in some cases charged with a crime under the Telecommunications Act or the Electronic Transactions Act and imprisoned’. This created a significant digital divide, where the majority of the population could begin to access information freely, while many Rohingya communities were cut off from flows of information. After coming to power in 2012, Thein Sein introduced a local curriculum programme in state primary schools, which involved the translation of Myanmar language into ethnic minority languages, in partnership with some ethnic literature and cultural groups. At the local level, there was resistance against the teaching of ethnic minority languages through translation, rather than looking at each language autonomously to develop the most appropriate textbooks based on a language’s unique linguistic features. Ethnic language teaching in this way was therefore part of the project of Burmanisation. Ethnic minority cultural leaders made demands for the development of original curriculum, which was rejected at the union level because of fear it would create disunity. In many areas, the local curriculum was introduced outside of school hours, adding extra time to the school day. Neither had it been included as a school subject and was unaccredited. In some areas, there was disagreement on the categorisation of language and scripts. For instance, in Kayah State, the government intended Kayah language to be taught with a script based on Burmese. The more popular and older Kyae Poe Gyi alphabet, developed and used in territory controlled by the KNPP, was dominant in border areas and exile but it had been restricted by the state, in an attempt to deny cultural legitimacy to the KNPP. A Roman-­based script was also in use, developed by the

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­ atholic Church. However, in 2014, Kayah culture and literature leaders conC ducted a statewide consultation, finding that the majority wanted to use Kyaw Poe Gyi script, eventually leading to state recognition. In 2012, Thein Sein introduced important reforms to the state censorship regime, no longer requiring print media to be submitted to the Press Scrutiny and Registration Department before publication, discussed further in Chapter 16. For ethnic minorities, this meant freedom to publish in minority languages. Some published commercially with a publishing licence while other organisations could legally publish limited circulation books unlicensed. Content no longer needed to be submitted to the state pre-publication, although a copy of each publication needed to be submitted to the state after printing. Because of the ceasefire process with ethnic armed groups, there was also greater freedom for the publishing and dissemination of political forms of ethnic cultural identity so this period saw a flourishing of expression related to ethnicity. However, the regulation of religious expression remained tightly controlled. The rise of ‘hardline’ Buddhist forms of nationalism have resulted in a number of prominent prosecutions since the political transition, under Section 295(a) of the Penal Code, which outlaws the ‘deliberate and malicious acts intended to outrage religious feelings of any class by insulting its religion or religious beliefs’ (Hayward and Walton 2016: 71). The law has been primarily directed at ‘insults’ to Buddhism, while Islamophobic hate speech continues unregulated. Growing anti-­Islamic and anti-­Rohingya sentiment also meant restrictions on Muslim and Rohingya religious and cultural practice, including a ban on mosque building in Rakhine State (explored further in Chapter 17). The Thein Sein period saw the rapid emergence of new Christian movements, which spread during the transition because of the deep penetration of the internet and social media and greater mobility between diaspora communities. These charismatic forms of Christianity are characterised by a lack of institutionalisation, often led by a figure who travels around the world holding services, which are also filmed for YouTube and Facebook. While many of the leaders are ethnic minorities, the medium is Burmese and they are open to all. David Lah, one of the most prominent new Christian leaders, also directly criticises ethnic forms of the church in his teaching, arguing that minority language is a false priority and that language itself is a material division that distracts from the divine. He also challenges the power of pastors and the church, telling his followers that their personal relationship with God is paramount and that the church and pastors are socially constructed. Christianity had also fragmented as a result of armed conflict. Many churches had lost their members, who became refugees and formed a large diaspora across South and Southeast Asia and the West.

Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD: globalisation and cultural resurgence In 2015, the government enacted the Ethnic Rights Protection Law, which has had a significant impact on ethnicity, culture and religion, officially recognising the role of literature and cultural promotion movements and providing safeguards for

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minorities. The law enshrined linguistic, cultural, religious and heritage rights, as well as equal opportunity, overseen by a Union Minister for Ethnic Affairs, first appointed after the NLD came to power. The NLD period included progress on protections and state support for ethnic, cultural and religious practice, although there were also regressions. The NLD expanded programmes for the teaching of minority languages and local content into the school curriculum, including during school hours from 2019. The curriculum is supposed to be specific to the cultures and languages of each region. However, enactment has been challenging, because of inconsistent implementation and limited democratisation at local levels. Because of a lack of awareness of the law, it has also been difficult for ethnic minority groups to advocate for better implementation, although areas with stronger cultural advocates have made greater progress. The NLD period saw an increase of bureaucratisation compared to the Thein Sein period, which is part of a shift to a more liberal state. This attempt by the state to change the nature of relations with citizens, to one where the state attempts to provide care and well-­being, has had an adverse effect on ethnic and religious minority cultural practice. Some ethnic minority leaders complain of the difficulty of organising cultural events, when approval is needed from the Ministry of Health for the serving of food, local government and security forces for public safety and, if the event is outdoors, approval is sometimes needed from departments of irrigation or environment. There have also been new restrictions on ethno-­nationalism. In Rakhine State, an annual event to commemorate the Konbaung Kingdom’s invasion of the Mrauk-­U Kingdom was banned in 2017, leading to a riot and the shooting of eight Rakhine civilians by security forces (Mratt Kyaw Thu 2018). This led to a perception of Rakhine identity being under attack, which has also increasingly redirected attention against the Bamar Other. In solidifying state bureaucracy, the NLD government has continued to practise rules that barred ethnic communities from accessing basic rights. An example of this is a rule that children need a birth certificate to enrol in school. In remote parts of Shan State, for instance, there are populations that lack identity documents and have thereby been excluded from state education. In response, there is a movement of Shan national schools, which teach in the mother tongue, with their own curriculum. While they lack accreditation in Myanmar, agreements with educational authorities in Thailand have resulted in some graduates pursuing higher education there, as they have no pathways to enter Myanmar universities. Anti-­Rohingya, Indophobic and Islamophobic forms of nationalism have been a key feature of Burmese society under the Thein Sein and NLD governments, giving popular support to the repression of Islam through bureaucratic controls, in addition to the ‘clearance operations’ inflicted on Rohingya communities in Rakhine State that have led to charges of genocide currently being heard in the International Court of Justice. Bureaucratic controls have included the use of building regulations to ban repairs of mosques and the rebuilding of new mosques without a permit from authorities, which authorities can then prevent Muslims from obtaining. Inspections of mosques have also been carried out, and if found to

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have been built or renovated without approval, have in some cases been destroyed and Muslim leaders have been fined or imprisoned (Amnesty International 2017: 84). This contrasts with a loosening of state control of Christian communities over the NLD period. The NLD period saw significant progress in the opening of popular cultural space. Regular television broadcasting was launched in the country in 1981 and was highly centralised through the Ministry of Information and a small number of private conglomerates closely linked to the political elite, with four entities controlling broadcasting in the country (Brooten 2016: 194). While TV penetration was limited, it likely had some effect in creating a mass audience for state representations of cultural diversity. Music was a popular feature of variety programming and the one area where particularly ethnic minorities had some representational autonomy. Meanwhile, cinema, once a hugely popular and dynamic industry, was much more limited to standard Burmese language discourse and Buddhist characters. Prominent ethnic minority actors in the industry succeeded because they suppressed their ethnic identity and used a Bamar accent, part of the Burmanisation of culture (Myat Noe 2018). There was little space for producers to represent diverse identities and themes within the highly rigid censorship regime. Films that did involve ethnic minority narratives and characters did so in a way that stereotyped at best and vilified at worst. While the Thein Sein period saw some liberalisation of broadcast media, this was greatly increased under the NLD with the approval of five new digital free-­toair channels, called ‘content providers’ as a workaround because of restrictions in the broadcast law. Pay TV has also expanded with the entry of Canal+ and a large number of international content providers. This has resulted in the introduction of international TV franchises and the localisation of cultural trends elsewhere. An example is the popularity of reality television in Myanmar, particularly after 2016, with the launch of X Factor and followed by Myanmar Idol and The Voice. The shows have featured a number of successful, ethnic minority performers although there is still a dichotomy between modern, popular music in Burmese and with a Burmese accent, in contrast to the popular Tedim singer Thang Pii, who sings in Burmese, with a pronounced Zomi (Chin) accent. There is growing space within talent programmes to show the multiple identities of a singer, such as Sai Yan Naung on X Factor 2018, who performs contemporary pop songs in Burmese, as well as a Shan language performance with traditional dress and choreography. Significantly, the 2018 season of Myanmar Idol opened up auditions to Burmese abroad, broadening a popular construction of ‘Myanmar’ to include the large Myanmar diaspora. Diaspora identity has been a feature of ethnic minority cultural production since the late military regime. For instance, a growing number of Kachin, Chin and Karen cultural figures could gain a global following through Facebook and YouTube. The most prominent example is arguably Aung La N Sang, a Kachin mixed martial arts fighter living in the US, who has a national following in Myanmar and across the diaspora, which he has used to promote Kachin culture and draw attention to the civil war in Kachin State. Zomi Idol, a talent show launched for the

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Zomi diaspora in the USA, also went global and includes contestants in Myanmar, Singapore and Australia. The loosening of broadcast controls can transform audiences on a far greater scale which, along with Facebook, is contributing to new ways of understanding ‘Myanmar’. The transition has also seen a shift in state media to a public service model of broadcasting, which began under Thein Sein and has continued under the NLD. In 2013, the Ministry of Information launched the National Race Channel (NRC), a free-­to-air network that is focused on ethnic minority language content, broadcast through MRTV. Originally with 11 languages, it is expanding to broadcast for 24 hours with increased languages. Like new private networks, NRC has a strict editorial policy that includes the omission of political content. There is a similar expansion of minority language broadcasting on pay TV, which, while gradual, is a crucial step towards the opening of cultural space to ethnic and religious minorities. However, broadcasting rights have meant continued restrictions on the representation of identities that are not recognised by the government. This has especially been the case regarding the use of the word ‘Rohingya’, whose right to self-­identity is denied by the state, which is part of the state’s culpability of genocide. ‘Denial of ethnic identity’ has been raised by the UN International Fact-­Finding Mission on Myanmar, as part of the state’s ‘hostile policies towards the Rohingya’ (Human Rights Council 2019: 6). MRTV, the state broadcaster under the Ministry of Information, continues to refuse to use the word ‘Rohingya’ in their media coverage, and exercises restrictions over other broadcasters holding licences through MRTV. For instance, soon after its launch on free-­to-air television, the Democratic Voice of Burma (DVB) was warned to cease using the term Rohingya, leading to a dispute with Radio Free Asia, one of DVB’s content providers, who severed their relationship. DVB has complied, and does not use the word in any content, despite the fact that Rohingya is a self-­ascriptive term used by Rohingya themselves. The Deputy Minister for Information explained that when DVB ‘wants to use our TV, they have to accept our [house style]’ (AFP 2018). Ethnic conflict and the promotion of Christianity has led to a rapid decline in minority forms of animism and widespread cultural loss in communities in the periphery, particularly among Karen, Karenni, Chin and Kachin communities, the main animist groups. In animist Karen areas of eastern Burma, large numbers of people have been killed or displaced because of war, land confiscation, militarisation and associated human rights abuses. Many fled to refugee camps in Thailand. Animism is closely tied to land, involving continuing rituals that are specific to particular spaces and link communities with their ancestral land and history. Within a family, rituals involve particular roles of each family member. Widespread displacement disturbed these localised practices. After people fled to displaced camps, to Thailand and to third countries, they could no longer practise animism without returning to their original home. For those that stayed behind, animist practice also became problematic because many families were separated by loss and displacement. Animism involves ancestor worship, which requires specific funeral rites carried out in one’s home community. In some areas, army camps had been built

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over birth and burial grounds so communities lost access to the important rituals that need to take place there. Displacement and diaspora has also meant many individuals are not buried in their ancestral burial grounds. The connection between spirits and place was therefore also lost, meaning displacement continues after death. After the NLD came to power, there was a movement for cultural revival in Karen areas of eastern Myanmar that began in 2017. It is centred on the Salween Peace Park, a territory in KNU’s Mutraw District, where the population have organised their communities according to animist Karen concepts of kaw, which are customary land practices that involve a particular way of living that involves managing the land, environment and human relations in a way that maintains a spiritual and ecological balance. As a peace park, the area is intended as an indigenous model for peaceful coexistence with diverse communities and the environment. The area is diverse and includes animist, Buddhist, Christian and Muslim populations. Reviving cultural practices tied to land has been a key element. In 2018, a meeting was held that included Karen representatives from all districts of eastern Myanmar to look at how the concept of kaw can be revived more broadly, including in areas where it has been completely lost. This is leading to new work for cultural revival that is possible because of the peace process and greater space and mobility under the NLD government, although armed conflict is continuing in Mutraw.

Conclusion: future challenges Successive Burmese governments have projected a model image of Burma/ Myanmar as a union of races and religions. While this involves a pluralistic vision of citizenship, cultural forms are tightly controlled, as seen by the key national objective of unity, stability and non-­disintegration under military rule. It was therefore a closed and highly restrictive form of pluralism, which also did not challenge the dominant place of Bamar, Buddhism and Burmese language but rather normalised it. The limited spaces for ethnic and religious representation in the public sphere were largely stereotypical, such as state events to commemorate cultural diversity in public ceremonies and on television. The ‘unity’ on show could barely cover the regulations in place on the promotion of ethnic languages and literature, cultural experimentation and autonomy. This led to cultural forms of resistance among ethnic and religious minorities, where practices were either underground in areas controlled by ethnic armed groups, or in the diaspora. Since 2012, Myanmar’s democratic transition has involved some loosening of cultural controls and economic liberalisation, which has meant greater access to information, communication and a broadening of space for cultural production, especially felt in central Myanmar and areas under ceasefire. Continuing conflict in western, northern and eastern Myanmar has also had significant cultural effects from displacement and militarisation, and an internet shutdown in northern Rakhine State that continues to be in place as of July 2020.. Serious human rights

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abuses against the Rohingya population also continues; and it is too early to assess whether the International Court of Justice’s provisional measures to protect the Rohingya population will have a meaningful effect. Change has been slow for many ethnic minority actors, and the continuation of military-­era regulations, with new bureaucratic controls, has caused added frustrations. Despite systemic controls, ethnic and religious minorities continue to push for increased autonomy and both collaborate and resist the state as a necessary part of religious and ethnocultural practice.

Notes 1 For instance, see Sakhong 2003 on the centrality of Christianity to Chin identity. For an examination of how Christianity became intertwined with Kachin ethno-­nationalism and identity, see Sadan 2013. 2 For a historical discussion of this in the Karen case, see Cheesman 2002. 3 New communication technologies were central in the spread of hate speech against Muslim and Rohingya (Schissler 2016).

References AFP 2018. ‘US-­backed broadcaster drops Myanmar channel in dispute’. Frontier Myanmar, 12 June. Available from: https://frontiermyanmar.net/en/us-­backed-broadcaster-­dropsmyanmar-­channel-in-­dispute, accessed 5 October 2018. Amnesty International 2017. ‘Caged without a Roof ’: Apartheid in Myanmar’s Rakhine State. London: Amnesty International. Brooten, L 2016. ‘Burmese media in transition’. International Journal of Communication 10: 18. BSPP (Burma Socialist Programme Party) 1967. Tineyintha yin jay mu yoya dale tone san mya Kayin [Karen Ethnic Culture and Traditions]. Yangon: Sape Beikman. BSPP (Burma Socialist Programme Party) 1971. Tineyintha lu myo mya e nay chait chan kyan re thamine [The History of the Ethnic Nationalities’ Resistance]. Yangon: Sape Beikman. Cheesman, N 2002. ‘Seeing “Karen” in the union of Myanmar’. Asian Ethnicity 3(2): 199–220. Cheesman, N 2017. ‘How in Myanmar “National Races” came to surpass citizenship and exclude Rohingya’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 47(3): 461–83. Cho, V and D Gilbert 2014. Poems of Mya Kabyar, Tin Nwan Lwin & Khaing Mar Kyaw Zaw. Sydney, NSW: Vagabond Press. Egreteau, R 2013. ‘India’s vanishing “Burma Colonies”. Repatriation, urban citizenship, and (de) mobilization of Indian returnees from Burma (Myanmar) since the 1960s’. Moussons. Recherche en sciences humaines sur l’Asie du Sud-­Est 22: 11–34. Egreteau, R 2014. ‘The idealization of a lost paradise: narratives of nostalgia and traumatic return migration among Indian repatriates from Burma since the 1960s’. Journal of Burma Studies 18(1): 137–80. Gravers, M 1993. Nationalism as Political Paranoia: An Essay on the Historical Practice of Power. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Gravers, M 2015. ‘Disorder as order: the ethno-­nationalist struggle of the Karen in Burma/ Myanmar – a discussion of the dynamics of an ethicized civil war and its historical roots’. Journal of Burma Studies 19(1): 27–78.

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Hayami, Y 2011. ‘Pagodas and prophets: contesting sacred space and power among Buddhist Karen in Karen State’. Journal of Asian Studies 70(4) 1083–105. Hayward, S and M J Walton 2016. ‘Advancing religious freedom and coexistence in Myanmar: recommendations for the next US administration’. The Review of Faith & International Affairs 14(2): 67–75. Human Rights Council 2019. Detailed Findings of the Independent International Fact-­Finding Mission on Myanmar. Human Rights Council forty-­second session, 16 September. Geneva: HRC. Human Rights Watch 2013. ‘All You Can Do Is Pray’: Crimes against Humanity and Ethnic Cleansing of Rohingya Muslims in Burma’s Arakan State. New York: Human Rights Watch. Jordt, I 2007. Burma’s Mass Lay Meditation Movement: Buddhism and the Cultural Construction of Power. Athens, OH: Ohio University Press. Mratt Kyaw Thu 2018. ‘At least eight killed in Mrauk U clashes’. Frontier Myanmar, 17 January. Available from: https://frontiermyanmar.net/en/at-­least-eight-­killed-in-­mrauku-­clashes, accessed 12 September 2018. Myat Noe 2018. ‘Ethnic minority’s involvement in Myanmar films’. 3-Ac 1(1): 84–7. Sadan, M 2013. Being and Becoming Kachin: Histories beyond the State in the Borderworlds of Burma. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sakhong, L H 2003. In Search of Chin Identity: A Study in Religion, Politics and Ethnic Identity in Burma. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Schissler, M 2016. ‘New technologies, established practices: developing narratives of Muslim threat in Myanmar’. In M Crouch (ed.) Islam and the State in Myanmar: Muslim-­Buddhist Relations and the Politics of Belonging. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 211–33. Tin Maung Maung Than 1988. ‘The “Sangha” and “Sasana” in socialist Burma’. Sojourn: Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia 3(1): 26–61. Walton, M J 2013. ‘The “Wages of Burman-­ness”: ethnicity and Burman privilege in contemporary Myanmar’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 43(1): 1–27.

16 JOURNALISM AND FREE SPEECH Freedom and fear Thomas Kean and Mratt Kyaw Thu

Introduction Of all the change and upheaval wrought by Myanmar’s democratic transition, few aspects have been so dramatic as the shift in freedom of speech. Myanmar’s previously muzzled domestic media were notably at the forefront of the reform process initiated in 2011, both benefiting from and encouraging the reforms initiated by President Thein Sein. By the end of his tenure, the outlook for media freedom – particularly independent print publications – appeared bright. International watchdog groups were consistently ranking Myanmar one of the freest media environments in Southeast Asia, behind only the Philippines and Indonesia. Tens of millions now had access to the internet and social media for the first time. But further reforms to enshrine freedom of speech have failed to materialise under the National League for Democracy (NLD) government that took office in March 2016. Journalists have borne the brunt of this failure as much as anyone, with a wave of prosecutions targeting those who are seen as challenging the country’s political leaders. The September 2018 conviction of two Reuters journalists on Official Secrets Act charges related to their uncovering of a military massacre in northern Rakhine States represents a new nadir for freedom of speech. Prior to the judgement, State Counsellor Aung San Suu Kyi denied the case was connected to Rakhine State, and later said it was unrelated to their journalism work. Her remarks are an indication of how the NLD administration has placed political imperatives above support for freedom of speech and building the institutional strength of media. As the end of the NLD’s five-­year term in office approaches, there are few areas in which it can claim any progress on freedom of speech. Even in this context, measuring freedom of speech is still difficult. Every day, millions of people across Myanmar now log on to Facebook to express themselves, to write about their views on politics, society, life and culture – something that

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would have been impossible only five years ago. The overwhelming majority does so largely without fear of recrimination – even when the views they do express are extreme or arguably dangerous. Journalists, in contrast, are grappling not only with threats of legal action and even violence, but also challenges to their credibility and role within democracy. Aung San Suu Kyi’s remarks reflect a general ambivalence in Myanmar towards independent media that transcends her government. The impact of the Rakhine crisis on public perceptions of journalists – particularly since the 25 August 2017 attacks by the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army – is hard to overstate. Where media were previously considered an important part of the pro-­democracy movement and a watchdog working for the public, journalists are increasingly viewed with suspicion and expected to prioritise national security and stability over neutrality. With the 2020 election on the horizon, journalists and independent media organisations in Myanmar find themselves at an existential crossroads. Their ability to act as a check on power has been compromised at precisely the time that it may be needed most. Whether Myanmar’s mass of social media users will care – or even notice – is another matter. Given that Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD are likely to perform strongly in the 2020 election, and few other political forces have put forward an alternative vision for the role of media in Myanmar’s transition, there is little prospect for improvement on the horizon.

Myanmar under military rule: state control It took General Ne Win barely two years to silence Rangoon’s vibrant media industry. In the 1950s the city had been home to dozens of daily newspapers in a range of languages, and a sizeable reading public. The 1962 coup though ushered in a series of restrictions, culminating in prepublication censorship and mass nationalisation of private papers in 1964. The bedrock for this suppression was the 1962 Printers and Publishers Registration Act, which required all publications to renew their licence annually. Many were refused permission. Other political rights were also soon curtailed. The 1947 constitution’s guarantee of ‘liberties of thought and expression’ was eventually replaced with article 157 of the 1974 constitution, which promised ‘freedom of speech, expression and publication to the extent that the enjoyment of such freedom is not contrary to the interests of the working people and of socialism’. Throughout the socialist era, the state maintained a stranglehold on most print and broadcast media. In 1975, the socialist regime issued guidelines for authors and publishers forbidding ‘incorrect ideas and opinions’, ‘anything detrimental to the ideology of the state’ and ‘criticism of a nonconstructive type’ (Allott 1993: 6). Although journalists tried to keep the tradition of independent reporting alive, they were conscious that their newspapers served mostly as propaganda outlets for the socialist regime (personal communication, 20 December 2010).

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The collapse of state control during the 1988 uprising enabled a brief blossoming of censorship-­free publishing, but this was soon snuffed out by the 18 September military coup. The junta began to relax its grip ever so slightly in the 1990s, allowing a handful of private publications: first monthly magazines, and later sport and entertainment weeklies. The launch of the Myanmar Times in 2000 paved the way for the era of private weekly newspapers, which were officially referred to as ‘journals’. By 2010, a reader in Yangon visiting a news-­stand or buying from a street vendor was spoiled for choice. Outside of the state newspapers, however, print media were largely for urban audiences; the reach of the private weeklies was limited by both poor infrastructure and low rural spending power. Diversity of ownership in the print sector belied the state’s tight grip on content. Prior to publication, editors would send a draft of the entire issue, including advertisements and classifieds, to the Ministry of Information’s Press Scrutiny and Registration Division, where civil servants would scrutinise each line. Politics, corruption, poor governance and poverty were typically off limits, but the range of censored content ran far broader, including international affairs and images of Myanmar women deemed to be dressed immodestly. Broadcast media remained under even stricter state control. For almost the duration of military rule viewers and listeners had few alternatives to government-­run Myanmar Radio and Television, or military-­owned Myawady. This policy began to change in 2010 – but only cautiously – when a few select private companies were given permission to run FM stations and satellite and terrestrial television services. The largest of these was Shwe Than Lwin Media, which operates satellite provider Skynet and the Shwe FM station. A web of public security laws – some recent and some dating to the colonial period – and state-­authorised violence were employed to limit freedom of expression and create a climate of fear. While bloody crackdowns on student-­led demonstrations in 1962, 1974 and 1988 were the most visible examples of violent suppression of free speech, the state also infiltrated everyday life through its extensive security apparatus, which included a wide network of informants. Journalists, cartoonists and poets – not to mention pro-­democracy activists – were often targeted by the state, but ‘tens of thousands of ordinary people [were also] punished simply for peacefully expressing their views’ (Iyer 1999). Despite these attempts at control, the public was not totally starved of access to uncensored information. Short-­wave broadcasts from the BBC, Radio Free Asia and Voice of America enjoyed a strong following, particularly in rural areas. Exile media organisations focused on Myanmar had also been established in the 1990s to provide uncensored news, including to ethnic minority groups in their native languages. While the larger of these donor-­funded outlets, such as Irrawaddy, Mizzima and Democratic Voice of Burma, quickly built up credibility with some hard-­hitting reporting of Myanmar’s internal intrigues, they faced challenges in gathering information: journalists caught working for exile media outlets could face decades in prison. The introduction of the internet in 2000 offered a new means for exile and foreign media to reach the public in Myanmar. Its potential significance for freedom

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of speech was highlighted by the role that bloggers played in sharing information and videos about the 2007 protests. But access to the internet outside Yangon was rare, and the high cost meant few could afford a home connection. Overwhelmingly, most people still relied on broadcast media – both state-­controlled and foreign or exile – for information about current events. Word-­of-mouth also continued to play an important role in information sharing. A long tradition of storytelling, combined with a paucity of information and a climate in which open discussion was dangerous, helped to feed a strong rumour culture, often centred around the teashop and other public spaces (Selth 2016). Strong anti-­military sentiment meant that exile media enjoyed a comparatively high level of legitimacy and popular support within Myanmar, particularly vis-­à-vis censored outlets based inside the country. However, as the first decade of the new millennium wore on, Yangon-­based print media began to find ways to assert their independence even while working within the system. Journalists exploited the ‘space’ granted by the military and sought to expand it, in a similar manner to civil society. Many young people began to see journalism as a meaningful profession in which they could improve their society, in contrast to the view that those working for censored publications were supporting the military through their participation in the system (Kean 2013). The lead-­up to the 2010 general election brought the first indications that the military was loosening censorship controls. Although often imperceptible to readers, for a press corps used to strict censorship this was a significant shift (Kean 2015). These private publications became a forum for public debate and discussion around political issues, albeit within the confines of censorship. For many journalists, it was the first time they had covered domestic politics or met members of the opposition movement. Journalists used this opening to ‘reclaim the area they had relinquished … in order to appease or to avoid problems with the censor’ (Pe Myint 2012) but few anticipated the dramatic changes still to come.

Thein Sein and the USDP: a wave of change ‘We also need to respect the role of the media, the fourth estate … and appreciate positive suggestions from the media.’ In many countries, a head of state would attract little attention for a statement such as this. Myanmar in 2011 though was one of the world’s most repressive media environments. The person speaking was a former general, Thein Sein, who had just been sworn in as the country’s first post-­military rule president. Thein Sein’s decision to highlight the importance of the media for Myanmar’s democratic transition in his inaugural address on 30 March 2011 was a milestone in several ways. It marked an important break with the past – the first time in decades the role of the media had been acknowledged in this way by the government (Nwe Nwe Aye 2012) – and signalled his intention to include media organisations as stakeholders in the transition. Thein Sein would largely make good on the sentiment expressed in his inaugural speech; within two years the media landscape had shifted unrecognisably. The entire

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system of prepublication censorship had been dismantled in August 2012. Private daily newspapers were allowed for the first time in nearly five decades. Many of those imprisoned for speaking out against the military regime had been released. Journalists had much better access to governance institutions, while foreign and exile media were welcomed back into the country. Internet censorship was lifted in September 2011, and internet use began growing rapidly in urban areas as the government introduced cheaper SIM cards. Newspaper and magazine publishing licensing was liberalised, while a semi-­independent press council was established in September 2012. Perhaps the biggest change for free speech though was simply that the fear had dissipated; people felt increasingly empowered and no longer afraid to express themselves. Legal reform was also an important focus for the Thein Sein administration. The government sought to enact five new laws related to the media sector: the printers and publishers registration law, concerning publishing licences; the news media law, governing the media industry; the public service media law, to reform state media; the broadcasting law; and the right to information law. Of these, three were enacted during Thein Sein’s term, with only the public service media law and right to information law not enacted. While the Thein Sein government introduced a broadcast law in August 2015, the sector experienced little tangible change. Had the law been enacted sooner, the rules necessary to bring it into force could have been introduced before the end of the government’s tenure, possibly facilitating the granting of new licences. Instead, access to information expanded dramatically thanks to the decision in 2012 to liberalise the telecommunications sector. The launch in 2014 of two foreign mobile operators, Telenor and Ooredoo, enabled access to SIM cards and fast mobile data. While telecoms liberalisation was seen as one of the most important and successful reforms undertaken by the Thein Sein government (Dasandi and Hudson 2017: 1), some more problematic aspects, such as hate speech and legal restrictions on free speech, also quickly became apparent. The rapid nature of reforms to the media sector inevitably brought about conflict and contention, particularly with government and military officials. Both colonial-­era and more recent statutes were used to prosecute journalists for offences such as defamation, revealing state secrets and trespassing. In the most serious case, four journalists and the chief executive officer of a weekly newspaper, Unity, were prosecuted under the Official Secrets Act and sentenced to 14 years’ imprisonment. Threats, legal action and intimidation increased significantly during 2015 as that year’s general election approached (Brooten 2016: 185). But the Thein Sein government was generally restrained in managing media. Relations between journalists and the Tatmadaw tended to be more fractious. Several of the legal cases brought against journalists were initiated by the armed forces, either as an institution or individual officers. Nascent Tatmadaw attempts to engage more directly with media and public did little to bridge the mutual suspicion between the journalistic and military communities. While unshackled journalists could – and would – embarrass the Thein Sein administration, the decision to prioritise media reforms brought a number of

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important benefits. The reforms built legitimacy for the transition by demonstrating in a tangible way that the transition was real. Further, it meant that journalists themselves recognised that the reforms in their sector were genuine, and it was through this lens that they reported on other aspects, such as the peace process and economic reform. Rarely did they question the legitimacy of the transition and this undoubtedly influenced the way that their readers viewed the transition, too. Beyond that, media would play a supporting role in helping Thein Sein and his allies wage internal battles against those opposed to particular reforms, including within his government (Dasandi and Hudson 2017: 13). The general tolerance of criticism and promotion of freedom of speech during the Thein Sein period reflected the broader orientation of his government. It engaged with – and in some cases embraced – ideas, institutions and concepts associated with western liberal democracy. One example was its cooperation with European NGOs and donors on media-­related issues such as legal reform and journalism training, which led to the establishment of the Myanmar Journalism Institute in 2014. But these legal reforms were limited to legislation specific to the media industry. The Thein Sein administration largely baulked at undertaking the comprehensive legal reform – the revision or repeal of repressive laws – that was needed to enshrine free speech. It also enacted new legislation with vague clauses and harsh penalties that could be used to curtail these freedoms, such as the Telecommunications Law. As a result, media freedom remains largely subject to the sentiments and priorities of the administration in power. At a fundamental level, this reflects the wording of section 354 of the 2008 constitution, which grants citizens the right to ‘express and publish freely their convictions and opinions … if not contrary to the laws, enacted for Union security, prevalence of law and order, community peace and tranquility or public order and morality’. Arguably the greatest lesson from the Thein Sein period is that without constitutional or comprehensive legal reform, freedom of speech will continue to remain at risk.

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: troubling times Journalists, editors and publishers anticipated that the election of the NLD would add further momentum to the media reforms initiated by the Thein Sein administration. This expectation was predicated on the party’s long-­stated support for democratic values and fundamental human rights, including freedom of speech. Many journalists viewed themselves as partners with the NLD in the fight for democracy. In its election manifesto the NLD had also described the news media as ‘the eyes and ears of the people’, and said the party would ‘ensure that the media has the right to stand independently’ and ‘compete openly on the free market’ (NLD 2015: 24). They soon discovered they had misread the NLD. The party, and in particular Aung San Suu Kyi, did not share the Thein Sein government’s need to establish its legitimacy or convince a sceptical public of its credentials, while the rise of social

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media meant it also had alternative means of reaching the public. As a result, the NLD had less to gain from engaging journalists, so it chose to instead keep them on the fringes of political power. This does not explain, however, the depths that freedom of speech has plummeted under the NLD. Not only have reforms stalled but also the government has arguably done much to undermine the advances made under Thein Sein. Scores have been imprisoned for messages posted to Facebook, while journalists have been targeted under colonial-­era statutes like the Official Secrets Act (OHCHR 2018). Through its actions, the NLD and its leaders have demonstrated that they neither view freedom of speech as a core issue nor see the media as partners in the democratisation process. This decline is being reflected on international press freedom indices, with Myanmar beginning to slide back down the rankings. Legal action against journalists is not the only respect in which freedom of speech has been harmed since 2016; media diversity has also suffered. The early decision to continue to subsidise the three major state-­run daily newspapers has undercut the financial viability of private publications (Hein Ko Soe 2018). The continued prominence of state media, combined with the country’s economic malaise under the NLD and the rise of Facebook, has been a factor in many publications closing down. From a peak of around a dozen daily papers five years earlier, just a handful remained at the start of 2020. Legal reforms have also stalled. Both the draft public service media and right to information law have dropped off the agenda, despite promises that the latter would be a priority for the Ministry of Information (Coonan 2016). The NLD government has dragged its feet on enacting the necessary regulations to bring into effect the Broadcasting Law that was enacted in August 2015. Calls from activist groups focused on freedom of speech to overhaul existing laws, including the 2014 News Media Law and 2015 Broadcasting Law, have also been ignored. In particular, Free Expression Myanmar has campaigned for amendments to the News Media Law that would make the Myanmar Media Council independent from the government. The council initially built up some credibility during the term of the Thein Sein administration, but under the NLD its inability to resolve serious disputes has become more apparent. Fresh elections for council membership in September 2018 offered the chance for a reset, but the mandated structure of the council – with a mix of appointed and elected members – ensures that no dramatic change is likely without legal reform. The major black mark against the government has been the heavy-­handed prosecution of journalists and ordinary citizens for expressing themselves either in print or online. While the arrest and conviction of two Reuters journalists under the Official Secrets Act gained significant international attention, their prosecution was only the continuation of a pattern that had gained momentum from the first days of the NLD administration. In the first 18 months of its term in office, scores of people were prosecuted under section 66(d) of the Telecommunications Law for defamation using a communications network, which carried a maximum three-­ year prison term.

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The NLD government has refused to intervene to withdraw cases brought by police, arguing disingenuously that this would undermine judicial independence. While the Thein Sein government used the same argument, cases against journalists were relatively rare under the USDP government and generally initiated by the military. In contrast, the NLD has itself used the law against journalists (Athan 2018b). An analysis of the first 106 cases filed under 66(d) found that more than half were based on complaints from people close to the state: military and government officers, and political party officials (Free Expression Myanmar 2017: 17). Similarly, of the 28 criminal cases targeting journalists since March 2016, 17 were the result of complaints from the NLD government and another three from the military (Athan 2018a). In its actions, the NLD seemed to view the media as a threat to be neutralised. This attitude apparently comes right from the top. In the eyes of Aung San Suu Kyi, journalists are a necessary evil; rather than engage with media, she prefers to let her actions do the talking (personal communication, 15 May 2016). Other senior NLD officials have expressed similar ambivalence about the importance of independent media, including during the debate around amending section 66(d). In December 2016, President Win Myint – then the speaker of the lower house of the national legislature – said the clause was needed to maintain stability and give those who are defamed a chance to seek justice. ‘Society will not be stable when people and groups start defaming each other. There will be lawless anarchy’, he said (Kean 2017). Eventually, public outcry forced the government to amend the law in August 2017, although the changes were relatively cosmetic (Free Expression Myanmar 2017) and internet users have continued to be prosecuted. The military has also actively sought to restrict freedom of speech. Criticism and negative media coverage of the military and its leader, Senior General Min Aung Hlaing, has noticeably declined as a result of successive online defamation cases and the arrest of three journalists in northern Shan State for alleged contact with an ethnic armed group that had been declared an unlawful association. When Min Aung Hlaing’s office agreed to withdraw the case against the journalists, it did so ‘as a token of recognising their cooperation in serving the interests of the nation and the people’ and on the grounds they would ‘strictly observe professional ethics in their reports’ in future (Kyaw Ye Lynn 2017). The message to their colleagues in the industry was clear. But the threats to freedom of speech, while undoubtedly real, are somewhat removed from the experience of most people. The liberalisation of the telecommunications sector has brought internet to nearly all corners of the country, and Facebook quickly established itself as the social media platform of choice. In a country where for many decades the ordinary person had limited access to information and few opportunities to express themselves, the arrival of Facebook has brought about dramatic and rapid social change. Accordingly, Facebook has become the predominant forum for political debate, activism and accessing information, challenging the relevancy of traditional media. It has become a place to discuss previously taboo topics; one example is the many

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pages and groups sharing information and discussing aspects of Communism and Marxism. Politicians, political parties, activists and interest groups have sought to leverage the platform, with varying degrees of success. Government ministries and agencies use it to share information about their activities; the President’s Office, State Counsellor’s Office and Ministry of Information Webportal pages all have from 1.1 million to 1.6 million followers, while the Yangon police page (‘Welcome to our Yangon Police! We are posting the Crime news’) has more than 500,000. As of August 2018, Facebook reportedly had 22 million active users in Myanmar – around 40 per cent of the population. However, a qualitative audience survey conducted in four regions by IMS-­Fojo in 2018 found that Facebook had a more significant impact on access to information than this number suggests, with almost all participants having attained information from Facebook at some point. This was attributed in part to a ‘sharing culture’ whereby people share news and information with each other. While there was awareness among participants that information on Facebook should be treated with scepticism, there are often few avenues for users to fact-­check what they read (Lehmann-­Jacobsen 2018: 16). Facebook is far more than an arena for political discussion and news, however. Social and philanthropic organisations are using it to raise money and draw attention to particular causes, while the rise of ‘social influencers’ with hundreds of thousands – even millions – of followers has created new ways to promote products and businesses. Facebook has enabled young entrepreneurs to start businesses with almost no capital, and there is a thriving network of semi-­professional writers blogging about travel, food and other cultural topics. It has also created new means of accountability, particularly in interactions with the government and public officials; for example, those subject to poor treatment or abuse at the hands of law enforcement have been able to seek redress (Nay Paing 2018). If authorities ignore a complaint, a compelling video, photo or written testimony posted to Facebook can often prompt them into action. As the debate around 66(d) highlights, the bypassing of traditional gatekeepers of speech and the democratisation of publishing have created unease about the ways in which social media can be used. In some respects, these concerns are well founded. Facebook has become a platform for hate speech and disinformation; the education system, social media literacy campaigns and Facebook’s own content review process have struggled to keep pace with its rapid uptake. Rumours and fake news spread quickly, while political debate and discussion often descend into abuse and other offensive behaviour. In some cases, this has taken on the appearance of a coordinated campaign. When it blocked Min Aung Hlaing and other military-­linked individuals and organisations from its platform in late August 2018, Facebook also removed 46 pages and 12 accounts that it said were ‘engaging in coordinated inauthentic behaviour’ by using ‘seemingly independent news and opinion Pages to covertly push the messages of the Myanmar military’ (Facebook 2018b). Rising nationalist sentiment following the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army (ARSA) attacks of August 2017 and subsequent retaliation by Myanmar’s military

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has turned Facebook into a virtual battleground, with armies of users on both sides. Researchers have found that hate speech against the Rohingya ‘exploded’ immediately after the second round of ARSA attacks on 25 August 2017 (Hogan and Safi 2018). Warnings that the platform was being used as a forum for hate speech, particularly against Muslims, are not new; researchers began urging Facebook to take action as early as 2013, and these warnings were constantly repeated over the next five years (McLaughlin 2018). Facebook admitted that it had been ‘too slow’ to recognise the issue. It only seriously began taking steps to address the problematic use of its service towards the end of 2017; at the time, the company was largely relying on users to report inappropriate content but by the following August over half of the Burmese content was being removed by its own reviewers (Facebook 2018a). The long-­term implications of the delayed response to hate speech are likely to be severe. The narrative for the Rakhine conflict – that the Rohingya are terrorists or terrorist sympathisers, that Myanmar’s national sovereignty is under threat and that allegations of military abuses are made up or exaggerated – has become well entrenched (Hogan and Safi 2018). But the responsibility is not Facebook’s alone, for this is a narrative that the government has created and actively disseminated through both social and traditional media. Coupled with the NLD’s lack of commitment to freedom of speech, the effect of the Rakhine crisis on journalists and the media industry has been dramatic. The media have become weapons for the state’s use rather than independent checks and balances. Any residual ambitions of turning state outlets into credible, unbiased sources of information serving the public interest have been abandoned; state broadcasters and print organs have been essential to the government’s efforts to paint foreign governments and media as biased and gullible. As allegations mounted against the military – and the government for its complicity – the Ministry of Information sought to enlist them into the government’s cause, meeting publishers in late 2017 to discuss how to ‘fight back’ against international coverage. While most instinctively resisted being told what to do by the government, they have also largely failed to hold those in power accountable; media monitoring conducted immediately after the August attacks found that most Myanmar-­based outlets relied uncritically on information from the government and military, portraying these actors in a neutral or positive light. Few gave any space to Rohingya voices at all. The crisis has divided the industry between those who see their role as reporting in a neutral manner regardless of the context, and those who believe their reporting should serve the national interest. Among those who have argued the latter is former Reuters journalist Aung Hla Tun, who served as vice chair of the press council before being appointed deputy information minister in January 2018. Speaking at a media conference in August 2017, he said that the ‘greatest responsibility of media today in Myanmar is safeguarding our national image, which has been badly tarnished by some unethical international media reports’. Later he would spark a backlash by giving preferential treatment to Chinese and Japanese news

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outlets over western media organisations on the grounds they practised ‘peace journalism’ and do not ‘fuel the flames’ of conflict (Moe Myint 2018). But he is far from the only senior journalist to hold this view. When Min Aung Hlaing met the press council in June 2018, he said the media ‘should become a tool for cementing unity’, adding: ‘It is important that the media try to help promote patriotism and nationalism.’ Speaking after the senior general, Myanmar Media Council Vice Chair 1, Ohn Kyaing, said the council ‘agreed with the Tatmadaw’ (Min Aung Hlaing 2018). When he was elected chairman of the council later that year, Ohn Kyaing said his first priority was to amend the News Media Law so that the council could be more involved ‘in opposing the international pressures’, citing efforts to bring Myanmar leaders before the International Criminal Court as an example (Myanmar News Agency 2018). The Rakhine conflict has altered the way in which some sections of Myanmar society view journalists and the media. Independent media are no longer fundamental to democracy; they are potentially dangerous and foreign concepts that could create instability and threaten the democratic transition. For decades, outlets like the BBC, VOA and RFA were seen as serving the people of Myanmar, their legitimacy built through persistent negative coverage of the military. Now foreign outlets and journalists are often perceived as unreliable or biased, particularly if they use the word ‘Rohingya’. This was reflected in the international media support (IMS) audience study, in which all four respondent groups expressed reservations about whether they could trust the BBC because of its coverage of the Rakhine State conflict (Lehmann-­Jacobsen 2018: 16). The public response to the arrest and trial of the Reuters journalists is illustrative. Feted internationally as heroes, outside the media community in Myanmar they were more likely to be viewed as traitors. That their reporting forced the military to admit its soldiers were involved in the massacre of ten Rohingya men was only seen as further justification for the journalists’ arrest and imprisonment, for journalists in Myanmar should not undermine the state’s narrative by investigating the deaths of Rohingya Muslim men. The experience of one of the co-­authors while he was reporting in Rakhine State provides another example. In the days after the August 2017 ARSA attacks he travelled to Maungdaw with two other ethnic Rakhine journalists, from Irrawaddy and DVB. The trio was confronted by angry Rakhine locals, who threatened to kill them because they believed their reporting to be sympathetic to the Rohingya. After being chased through the town, they were given sanctuary by members of the Arakan National Party and managed to flee to Buthidaung. Realising that political leaders and many members of the public no longer share their values, Myanmar’s journalists are enduring a crisis of confidence. Once proud of their professional standards and role in the democratic transition, some are leaving the industry for other professions. There is a general recognition that press freedom has declined under the NLD, and the government and military are both responsible for this (Free Expression Myanmar 2018). The paradox of free speech under the NLD administration is that there is now a vast and growing quantity of speech, but little of it directly challenges those in

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p­ ositions of authority. This was perhaps best illustrated by Aung San Suu Kyi herself in an interview during an October 2018 visit to Japan. She suggested that the imprisonment of journalists was not indicative of the true state of freedom of speech in Myanmar. ‘[S]tudy 24 hours of output of social media and conventional media in Myanmar’, she said, ‘and you will be surprised at the sort of things that you will find. They express themselves very freely and very widely on everything from the government to what’s happening next door to them in their street.’ (NHK 2018). Three days later, the Yangon Region government filed a complaint of sedition to police against three journalists from Eleven Media Group for an investigative report into the government’s business activities. The following day the journalists handed themselves in at the township court and were remanded to prison, facing a potential two-­year prison sentence. While this event was widely noted on social media, it formed but one small piece of the mosaic that is life in Myanmar, circa late 2018 – albeit one that bodes poorly for the future of liberal democracy in Myanmar. The Eleven Media Group journalists would eventually be released due to the intervention of President Win Myint, but this did not reflect any broader improvement for the sector. Through 2019 and the early stages of the election year, independent media have continued to struggle for survival. Aung San Suu Kyi and her government have started to publicly talk about stopping the flow of foreign grants to the media industry, apparently in the belief that organisations that receive grants are pushing the agenda of their donors. Senior government officials have repeated the claim that the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation, a bloc of 57 majority Muslim nations, is funding negative media coverage about the government and the country more broadly. Media coverage of the 2020 election will be more constrained – politically and economically – than five years earlier, raising some concerns about the fairness of the vote. But with the NLD likely to perform strongly, and little chance of any other political force with an alternative vision for media development taking office, the years ahead are likely to be even more difficult.

Conclusion: future challenges The transition to democracy initiated by the military government has had massive implications for the country’s media environment, how the people of Myanmar access news and information, and the ways in which they can express themselves. Cheap internet access and widespread use of social media are creating huge social change, not least the democratisation of publishing and speech. Much of this change is for the better; after decades of being kept silent, the people of Myanmar have found a voice. However, the legal framework, the education system and the mindset of public officials have not kept pace. This has made social media sources of tension within society, highlighting and exacerbating existing fault lines that had to some extent existed only outside of the public eye. Journalists and media organisations have found themselves in an uneasy position, at once embracing social media while also recognising that they undermine their role

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as both shapers of opinion and gatekeepers of information. The ease with which the government can now bypass media is fuelling a growing sense of irrelevance. The use of legal action by the government and military has set new parameters for their work that are much more confined than under the Thein Sein government, when rapprochement between media and government was a political imperative. Myanmar’s slide down the international media freedom indices seems all but guaranteed. Increasingly it appears that the five-­year term of the Thein Sein administration will be looked back on as an outlier for free speech and media in Myanmar’s modern history. This is not only because of the inherent conservatism of NLD leaders and their mistrust of journalists, but also the changing political context in which stability and security are prioritised over individual rights. The crisis in Rakhine State has dramatically altered the way in which the Myanmar public sees journalists and their role in democracy, casting doubt on the centrality of media to the transition. With international condemnation of Myanmar set to continue for years to come, this sentiment is unlikely to dissipate and journalists are increasingly likely to find themselves marginalised. Outside of access to the internet and social media, further progress on freedom of speech seems unlikely without generational change in the country’s political and military leaderships. Legal reforms are needed to enshrine genuine freedom of speech but at present there is little desire to pursue such changes. Instead, Myanmar seems to have settled into a status quo where there is freedom of access to the means of speech, but protection from prosecution is dependent on not challenging the interests of those in authority.

References Allot, Anna 1993. Inked Over, Ripped Out: Burmese Storytellers and the Censors. New York City. PEN American Center. Available from: www.ibiblio.org/obl/docs/inked-­overripped%20-out.htm. Athan 2018a. ‘The number of journalists charged under the current government’. Available from: https://goo.gl/iUw5tD, accessed October 2018. Athan 2018b. ‘Mid-­term report on Freedom of Expression’. Available from: https://goo.gl/ A1Ub7a, accessed October 2018. Brooten, Lisa 2016. ‘Burmese media in transition’. International Journal of Communication 10: 182–99. Coonan, Jaiden 2016. ‘Draft of Right to Information Law to be reviewed’. Global New Light of Myanmar, 6 May. Dasandi, Niheer and David Hudson 2017. ‘The political road to digital revolution: how Myanmar’s telecoms reform happened’. The Development Leadership Programme, Birmingham: University of Birmingham. Available from: http://publications.dlprog.org/ MyanmarTelecoms.pdf. Facebook 2018a. ‘Update on Myanmar’. Available from: https://newsroom.fb.com/ news/2018/08/update-­on-myanmar/, accessed September 2018. Facebook 2018b. ‘Removing Myanmar military officials from Facebook’. Available from: https://newsroom.fb.com/news/2018/08/removing-­myanmar-officials/, accessed September 2018.

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Free Expression Myanmar 2017. ‘66(d): no real change’. Available from: http://free expressionmyanmar.org/wp-­content/uploads/2017/12/66d-no-­real-change.pdf, accessed September 2018. Free Expression Myanmar 2018. ‘Myanmar’s media freedom at risk’. Available from: http:// freeexpressionmyanmar.org/wp-­content/uploads/2018/05/myanmars-­media-freedom-­ at-risk.pdf, accessed September 2018. Hein Ko Soe 2018. ‘Private sector newspapers down but not out’. Frontier Myanmar, 29 January. Hogan, Libby and Michael Safi 2018. ‘Revealed: Facebook hate speech exploded in Myanmar during Rohingya crisis’. Guardian, 3 April. Iyer, Venkat 1999. ‘Censorship and the law in Burma’. London. Article 19. Available from: www.ibiblio.org/obl/docs3/Acts%20of%20Oppression,%20Art19.htm. Kean, Thomas 2013. ‘Journalist’. In Joshua Barker, Erik Harms and Johan Lindquist (eds) Figures of Southeast Asian Modernity. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 220–21. Kean, Thomas 2015. ‘Election reporting in the dark days of 2010’. Myanmar Times, 16 September. Kean, Thomas 2017. ‘Myanmar’s Telecommunications Law threatens its democratisation process’. ISEAS Perspective. Singapore: ISEAS – Yusof Ishak Institute. Available from: www.iseas.edu.sg/images/pdf/ISEAS_Perspective_2017_50.pdf. Kyaw Ye Lynn 2017. ‘Military agrees to withdraw cases against 6 journalists, 2 activists’. Frontier Myanmar, 1 September. Lehmann-­Jacobsen, Emilie 2018. ‘Myanmar’s media from an audience perspective’. Yangon: IMS-­FOJO. Available from: www.mediasupport.org/wp-­content/uploads/2018/10/ Myanmar_Audience-­Study_final_for-­web.pdf. McLaughlin, Tim 2018. ‘How Facebook’s rise fuelled chaos and confusion in Myanmar’. Wired, 6 July. Min Aung Hlaing 2018. ‘Role of media which is Fourth Estate is important; media is urged to serve national interest as a tool through constructive reports on national peace, stability and unity’. Available from: www.seniorgeneralminaunghlaing.com.mm/en/7627/role-­ media-fourth-­estate-important-­media-urged-­serve-national-­interest-tool-­constructivereports-­national-peace-­stability-unity/, accessed September 2018. Moe Myint 2018. ‘Govt official’s bias for “Peace Journalism” Sparks Media Backlash’. The Irrawaddy, 11 May. Myanmar News Agency 2018. ‘MPC chair: MPC needs power to deal with national-­level, international issues’. The Global New Light of Myanmar, 10 September. Nay Paing. 2018 ‘Brutalized by Yangon police, couple uses Facebook to secure justice’. Coconuts Yangon, 13 August. NHK 2018. ‘Exclusive interview: Aung San Suu Kyi’. Available from: www3.nhk.or.jp/ nhkworld/nhknewsline/backstories/aungsansuukyi/, accessed October 2018. NLD (National League for Democracy) 2015. ‘2015 Election Manifesto’. Available from: www.burmalibrary.org/docs21/NLD_2015_Election_Manifesto-­en.pdf, accessed August 2018. Nwe Nwe Aye 2012. ‘Role of the media in Myanmar: can it be a watchdog for corruption?’ In Nicholas Cheesman, Monique Skidmore and Trevor Wilson (eds) Myanmar’s Transition: Openings, Obstacles, and Opportunities. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 186–203. OHCHR (Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights) 2018. ‘The invisible boundary – criminal prosecutions of journalism in Myanmar’. Available from: https://reliefweb.int/sites/reliefweb.int/files/resources/MyanmarTheInvisible Boundary.pdf, accessed September 2018.

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Pe Myint 2012. ‘The emergence of Myanmar weekly news journals and their development in recent years’. In Nicholas Cheesman, Monique Skidmore and Trevor Wilson (eds) Myanmar’s Transition: Openings, Obstacles, and Opportunities. Singapore. Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 204–14. Selth, Andrew 2016. ‘Why Myanmar’s rumour mill is always spinning’. Nikkei Asian Review, 25 February.

17 THE ROHINGYA CRISIS Nationalism and its discontents Adam Simpson and Nicholas Farrelly

Introduction Among the myriad challenges facing Myanmar society, it is the Rohingya crisis in Rakhine State that is the most pressing. The security operations in 2017 that led to a mass exodus of Rohingya Muslims across the border to Bangladesh are now the subject of international judicial scrutiny. Many people in Myanmar do not accept the need for such critical attention. From their perspective, Myanmar conducted itself appropriately to defend against armed insurrection hiding among a large population of unwelcome migrants. This difference of perspective is part of the reason that the management of the faultline between Myanmar’s Buddhists and Muslims has, in recent years, proved so explosive. Myanmar now draws support, at the diplomatic level, from countries like China and Russia that seek to counter the influence of human rights advocacy around the world. The Rohingya crisis merits further interrogation as we seek to understand the challenges facing Myanmar’s next government, likely to be led again by Aung San Suu Kyi and the National League for Democracy (NLD). In our assessment, for as long as the Rohingya are excluded from Myanmar society, future governments will struggle to achieve social cohesion, a sustainable and just development model, and normalised international relations. Myanmar’s international affairs have come under pressure throughout the Rohingya crisis but one episode illustrates the depths of the challenges. In December 2019, Aung San Suu Kyi travelled to the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in The Hague to defend Myanmar, and its military. She argued that the country did not commit genocide against the Muslim Rohingya minority. By taking such a central public role in the legal battle, and with one eye firmly on the 2020 elections, Aung San Suu Kyi reminded the Myanmar people, and the international community of her commitment to national dignity and prestige over liberal ideals of human rights and

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justice. Her appearance was accompanied by large nationalist rallies in Yangon, Naypyitaw and Mandalay demonstrating support for Myanmar’s leaders and its military. Aung San Suu Kyi calculated that neutering the most significant internal threats to her political agenda, and her legacy, requires an audacious defence of Myanmar pride, even while she erodes almost all of the goodwill built up for Myanmar in western democracies over many decades. The contrast with the image Aung San Suu Kyi deftly cultivated during her time as a human rights icon is remarkable. Nowadays, she is a pariah among many of her former friends. What explains this change? For a start, the conflation of personal, military, state and national standing, apparent in some of the billboards that appeared around the country (Bowcott 2019), is designed to buttress her popularity at home. As the official spokesperson for Myanmar, she used her time in front of the world’s top judges to argue that any crimes committed by military personnel were best handled by local laws and a local judiciary that after half a century of subordination to military rule is ill-­equipped to align with international norms (see, for instance, Shoon Naing and Lewis 2019). Widespread endorsement of her advocacy back in Myanmar is not a surprise but the genocide prosecution still raises questions that will not be easily remedied irrespective of the outcome of the current legal battles. From this perspective, the future of Myanmar society and its place in the international system is now tied to the resolution of the political and humanitarian crisis which has unfolded within Rakhine State and neighbouring Bangladesh since communal pogroms commenced in 2012. The most acute phase of this violence started in August 2017 – with brutal repression resulting in thousands of Rohingya slaughtered and 740,000 fleeing to Bangladesh in a matter of months (UNHCR 2020) – and has brought sustained negative attention to Myanmar’s political and security leaders. The hearings in The Hague are a powerful reminder of the great misgivings about the violence unleashed against the Rohingya. Although there are numerous ongoing conflicts in Myanmar the Rohingya conflict is exceptional in that they have been excluded, in every sense, from the benefits of political representation and social acceptance available to many other ethnic or religious minorities (Simpson 2014; Simpson et al. 2018). Prosecution for genocide, the so-­called ‘crime of crimes’, requires evidence of a specific type, yet the more general picture of discrimination, exclusion and violence including against women and young children, is now clearly evident. Within Myanmar society, the Rohingya have been demonised to such an extent that their plight may determine the direction of Myanmar’s society, potentially for decades to come.

Myanmar under military rule: stranglehold on belonging Myanmar’s half-­century of military rule was characterised by severe attempts by the Bamar-­dominated Myanmar military to centralise control and society around a Bamar and Buddhist vision of national belonging. Under both the Burma Socialist Programme Party (BSPP) and the State Law and Order Recreation Council/State

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Peace and Development Council (SLORC/SPDC), the Rohingya population faced periods of violent population control measures, resulting in mass refugee flows to Bangladesh in the 1970s and again in the 1990s (Lintner 1999). With this tragic history, the Rohingya issue has been on the global radar, to varying extents, for many decades. Since those waves of displacement in the 1970s and 1990s, regionally focused policy practitioners, advocates and analysts have repeatedly drawn attention to both the pitiable conditions of the Rohingya in Bangladesh and the dark problems faced by Muslims in Myanmar. During recent decades under Myanmar’s former military dictatorship, the Rohingya tended to receive less attention from the international community, simply because of the emphasis on democratisation and on destructive civil wars in the country’s eastern borderlands. Much of the world’s information about Myanmar was also refracted through the border with Thailand, a situation which tended to encourage greater focus on the Mon, Karen and Shan, and also the Kachin, who were more accessible for journalists, academics, activists and humanitarians based in places like Chiang Mai, Mae Sot, Bangkok and Mae Sai. The Rohingya, by comparison, were stuck, in every sense, in a corner of the country that proved easier to overlook, especially when Aung San Suu Kyi’s predicament in Yangon was a lightning rod for international concern. As a further inheritance from the decades of dictatorial control, there are significant institutional and legal barriers to the fuller inclusion of the Rohingya. For a start, the Rohingya are not recognised by the 1982 Citizenship Law, which designated 135 ‘national races’, or by the vast majority of the country’s population, resulting in their being refused citizenship and labelled ‘Bengalis’ – interlopers from Bangladesh – despite their ancestors having been in Myanmar for centuries (South 2009: 43; Wade 2019; Yegar 1972). They therefore form the centrepiece of Myanmar’s broader citizenship crisis (Holliday 2014). The Rohingya have faced repeated repression under these military regimes resulting in a refugee exodus of 200,000 or more (Ware and Laoutides 2018: 16–17). Before the 2010 general election it was also true that Myanmar’s homegrown Buddhist chauvinists were subject to regular bouts of official scrutiny and repression. Some were even locked up for challenging the model of multiculturalism and religious tolerance, narrowly defined, under military rule.

Thein Sein and the USDP: neglect and exclusion At the 2010 general election, the military actually provided space for Rohingya political leaders within the new electoral framework. It saw the cultivation of Rohingya support as a way of splitting the vote in Rakhine State to undermine the various ethnic Rakhine parties and allow success of the military-­backed USDP, resulting in five Rohingya USDP representatives entering the national and regional parliaments. However, increased nationalist social activism within the Rakhine community against the Rohingya espoused by both lay and monk communities

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resulted in religious communal violence in Rakhine State from June 2012 that left dozens of Rohingya killed and more than 140,000 people, mostly Rohingya, displaced into internment camps. The ability of Rohingya in much of the state to earn a living and find food and shelter became severely curtailed. Rakhine State became the crucible for more widespread communal violence throughout the country, with Muslims targeted by radical Buddhists including many from the sangha (monkhood). While Buddhist monks were at the forefront of democratic protests against the authoritarian regime in 2007 (McCarthy 2008), some Buddhist monks now formed the centre of a chauvinist movement against Muslims, and against the Rohingya in particular. Aid from international non-­governmental organisations (INGOs) and the UN, the providers of sustenance to the displaced Rohingya, was halted in early 2014 due to harassment and attacks from Rakhine groups as a result of perceived bias. Rather than offering a chance to defend the rights of the Rohingya, the opening of political space, together with new social media, has resulted in widespread hostility (Simpson 2019). As a peace negotiator from the formerly government-­backed Myanmar Peace Centre argued, a key concern of Rakhine Buddhists is that official recognition of the Rohingya would lead to a flow of resources including land ownership and government assistance at the expense of Rakhine communities (Interview, Associate Program Director, Myanmar Peace Centre, 2 May 2013). A common argument from the Rakhine Buddhist elite is that the Rohingya are infringing on the access of Rakhine communities to their traditional land, water and natural resources. In a poverty-­stricken agrarian community this is seen as tantamount to war. Indeed in July 2012 the Buddhist Rakhine monks’ association of Mrauk-­U in Rakhine State issued a statement, which was typical, and read: The Arakanese people must understand that Bengalis [Rohingya] want to destroy the land of Arakan, are eating Arakan rice and plan to exterminate Arakanese people and use their money to buy weapons to kill Arakanese people. (Human Rights Watch 2013: 26) This persistent chauvinism resulted in attacks on Rohingya communities by predominantly Rakhine perpetrators in 2012 and 2013, with attacks on Muslims spreading throughout the country (Cheesman 2017a, 2017b: 3; van Klinken and Su Mon Thazin Aung 2017).  Discrimination against the Rohingya spread throughout a range of policy areas. In April 2014 the enumerators for the UN Population Fund (UNFPA)–sponsored national census, the first in over 30 years, asked Rohingyas in the Te Chaung internally displaced people (IDP) camp ‘what is your ethnicity?’ as the first question. If they answered ‘Rohingya’ rather than ‘Bengali’ the enumerators refused to write it down and left the other 41 answers blank. Soon they stopped visiting residences altogether.1 Of the official 2,649 households in the camp only 30 families of ethnic Kaman Muslims were recorded (MacGregor 2014). As leader of what was then

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main opposition party, the NLD, Aung San Suu Kyi failed to adequately address the violence but in the lead-­up to the 2015 general election there was a reluctance, among most foreign observers, to introduce more problems for the democracy icon. The first priority, among many people, both inside and outside Myanmar, was to see the military’s role in government diminished with the replacement of the USDP by the NLD, irrespective of whether there would be further consequences from, for instance, its exclusion of Muslim candidates. Organisations like Ma Ba Tha sought to shrink the space for inclusive politics, demanding that the NLD account for any perceived cosiness with Islamic interests, at home or abroad. The double bind faced by Aung San Suu Kyi was acknowledged by serious analysts, who imagined that, once the electoral dust settled, she could find more room for plural sentiments.

Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD: battles continue When Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD came to power in early 2016 they began efforts to promote what they considered neutral language on sensitive ethnic issues, particularly the Rohingya. Their terminological revisions caused consternation from ‘nationalist’ Buddhists, and were opposed by some Rohingya themselves. There were reports that Muslims in Rakhine State townships refused to accept new government-­issued national verification cards, or ‘green cards’, as part of a citizenship verification pilot programme because their race and religion were omitted. These Muslims wanted their ethnicity listed on the card both to emphasise their identity and because they thought its absence could reduce their chances of eventually gaining citizenship. There is, in such cases, a lack of trust between ethnic minorities and the government due to deep-­seated historical animosities. While the NLD government generated much more goodwill than its predecessors, there were obvious challenges when it came to contentious ethnic and religious fault lines. The removal of ethnicity and religion from government identification cards is, however, a worthwhile ambition for a pluralist democracy. The official diminution of ethnic classification may be possible if supposedly discrete groups accept that they are all, fundamentally, the same. An attempt to reduce communal tensions came with the government announcement in mid-­2016 that it would use the religiously-­determined, but ethnically-­ neutral, terminology of ‘Buddhist community in Rakhine State’ and ‘Muslim community in Rakhine State’ in state-­owned publications. The previous USDP government commonly referred to the Rohingya as ‘Bengalis’, a pejorative and ethnologically suspect term. Under the NLD government these tentative steps towards more ethnically neutral governance were shaped by the need to balance the competing demands of local nationalists and external critics. In championing such difficult changes, the NLD were encouraged by their landslide triumph at the 2015 election in the face of large-­scale ‘nationalist’ Buddhist protests, including exhortations by prominent monks not to vote for the leading democratic politicians. Even with that popular mandate, the NLD’s efforts foundered among the

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Buddhist majority of Rakhine State, and many others in Myanmar, who continued to insist on identifying their Muslim neighbours as ‘Bengali’. The NLD attempted to placate international criticism on the treatment of the Rohingya by the appointment of an international advisory commission in August 2016, led by former UN Secretary General Kofi Annan, and by October the situation in northern Rakhine State was relatively stable, despite the ongoing incarceration of over 100,000 Rohingya in IDP camps. On 9 October 2016, however, coordinated armed attacks by a group known as Harakah al-­Yaqin, or Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army (ARSA) on three border posts near Maungdaw township in northern Rakhine State killed nine Myanmar police officers and eight assailants. These attacks were qualitatively different from anything in Rakhine State in recent decades, being the first organised military response to four years of repression experienced by the Rohingya. As a result, the region again became heavily militarised with widespread allegations of Tatmadaw abuse of the Muslim community (OHCHR 2016, 2017). Early on the morning of 25 August 2017, Fortify Rights – a regional human rights NGO – began a day-­long internal workshop at their Bangkok office. The previous day, the Kofi Annan-­led Advisory Commission on Rakhine State had delivered their final report to the Myanmar government. The researchers at Fortify Rights agreed that the commission’s recommendations – that the government take concrete steps to end enforced segregation of Rakhine Buddhists and Rohingya Muslims, ensure full and unfettered humanitarian access throughout the state, deal with Rohingya statelessness, hold perpetrators of human rights violations accountable and end restrictions on freedom of movement – were well-­judged and comprehensive (Simpson 2017). There was also approval for the positive response from the Office of State Counsellor Aung San Suu Kyi, which released a statement announcing that the government would implement the recommendations ‘to the fullest extent, and within the shortest timeframe possible’. As an immediate step, a new cross-­government ministerial-­led committee responsible for the implementation of the commission’s recommendations was to be established, assisted by an advisory board that included regional and international experts. For the first time since the outbreak of violence in 2012, there appeared to be a sliver of optimism over Rakhine State. This optimism was short-­lived. By around 8am reports started to emerge that ARSA had mounted coordinated overnight attacks on 30 police posts and an army base in the towns of Maungdaw, Buthidaung and Rathedaung in northern Rakhine State. They also attacked predominantly Hindu villages, slaughtering or abducting the inhabitants, and were brutal in their killing of suspected Rohingya informers (Amnesty International 2018). This second round of attacks by ARSA in August 2017 was much more comprehensive. It was clear from the level of coordination that the attack had been long planned and timed to coincide with the release of the Annan report. Despite protestations to the contrary, it appeared that one of the ARSA leadership’s main aims was to undermine attempts at the peace process in Rakhine State.

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Clearly a military response was required by the state, but a just response would have been targeted at the insurgents of ARSA, rather than driven by a philosophy of collective punishment for the entire Rohingya community. As the military build-­up in the region since October 2016 suggested, the military were prepared to respond with overwhelming force, although few anticipated the scale of the slaughter to come. Following the attacks, the Myanmar military engaged in what the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) labelled a ‘brutal security operation’, which he said constituted ‘a textbook example of ethnic cleansing’ and resulted in 270,000 predominantly Rohingya fleeing to Bangladesh in the first three-­week period (Hussein 2017). He later named northern Rakhine State as one ‘of the most prolific slaughterhouses of humans in recent times’ (Hussein 2018). The seriousness of the situation resulted in the UN Security Council displaying a rare unity on Myanmar to call for ‘immediate steps’ to end the violence (Landry 2017). Reports of the Myanmar military burning villages, conducting extrajudicial killings and laying landmines in the path of fleeing refugees were widespread. Satellite imagery of more than 80 burned sites illustrated what appeared to be an orchestrated and systematic scorched earth policy by the military (Amnesty International 2017). The government, on the other hand, blamed the Rohingya for setting fire to their own homes, when the evidence was clearly manufactured (Head 2017). Support for the government on Rakhine by civil society groups such as the allegedly pro-­democracy 88 Generation Peace and Open Society – even in the face of these inflammatory claims – demonstrates the pervasive racism throughout Myanmar society when it comes to the Rohingya. In response to the attacks, the government’s Anti-­Terrorism Committee labelled ARSA a ‘terrorist organisation’ – the first time the label had been deployed under the country’s new Anti-­Terror Law, despite ARSA’s tactics not being significantly different from many other armed groups in Myanmar. This action is consistent with the unique treatment meted out to the Rohingya. The clearance operations in northern Rakhine state resulted in thousands of Rohingya killed and hundreds of thousands of mostly Rohingya refugees crossing the border with Bangladesh seeking safe haven in hastily erected refugee camps. Rohingya village names such as Tula Toli and Inn Dinn are now widely identified internationally as linked to brutal massacres by the Myanmar military (Galache 2020; Human Rights Watch 2017; Wa Lone et al. 2018). By the beginning of 2020, 740,000 Rohingya had arrived in Cox’s Bazaar since the 2017 attacks, with most arriving in the first six weeks, resulting in almost a million exiled Rohingya living in border refugee camps (UNHCR 2020). The 2017 Rohingya crisis may prove to be one of this century’s most egregious episodes of state-­sanctioned murder, rape and pillage (Farrelly and Simpson 2018). While there has been debate about prosecuting Senior General Min Aung Hlaing or other military leaders at the International Criminal Court (ICC), there are a number of difficulties associated with this route, including that Myanmar is not party to the Rome Statute, which created the court, and that any attempt to

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force the ICC to take a case through the UN Security Council would be blocked by China and perhaps by Russia as well. Nevertheless, since Bangladesh is party to the Statute, and the Rohingya crossed into that country in response to their repression, the ICC ruled in 2018 that it had jurisdiction over the case. As a result, in November 2019 the ICC approved a full investigation into the allegations of ­‘systematic acts of violence’, deportation as a crime against humanity, and persecution on the grounds of ethnicity or religion against the Rohingya (AFP 2019). By February 2020 a team of investigators from the ICC Office of the Prosecutor was visiting the Rohingya refugee camps to collect evidence for the case (Alam 2020). The case may well be helped by the preliminary rulings of the ICJ in January 2020. In what was a much more surprising legal manoeuvre, on 11 November 2019, the Republic of The Gambia filed an ICJ application instituting proceedings against Myanmar concerning alleged violations of the Genocide Convention (ICJ 2020). This case was the more unexpected since the ICJ requires one country to lodge proceedings against another country. Until The Gambia lodged its application, it was generally considered unlikely that any country would take Myanmar to court in this way. It was this case that led Aung San Suu Kyi, by her own to decision, to travel to The Hague in December 2019 and personally defend the military’s indefensible actions. She could easily have sent a more junior member of the government; potentially the military-­appointed Defence Minister, Border Affairs Minister or the Home Affairs Minister, or even the military-­nominated Vice President Myint Swe. This route would have at least indicated some reticence from the civilian side of the government regarding the military’s actions. Instead, in perhaps the most baffling volte-­face performed by a former international democracy icon, she personally travelled to the Hague to lead a full-­throated defence of the military’s clearly disproportionate clearance operations as necessary to preserve Myanmar’s security and the rule of law. There is little doubt that Aung San Suu Kyi pursued this strategy with an eye on the forthcoming November 2020 national elections. There is little sympathy for the plight of the Rohingya throughout the country and ever since the 2012 pogroms, when the UN and aid agencies were seen inside the country as being overly sympathetic to Muslims and the Rohingya, there has been a general nationalist antipathy to what is perceived as international meddling in Myanmar’s domestic affairs. As Aung San Suu Kyi clearly calculated, her ICJ defence was interpreted as defending the nation, the national interest and was supported by large rallies throughout the country, with only a few brave protesters with an interest in opposing genocide (Naw Betty Han 2019). While giving evidence Aung San Suu Kyi admitted that ‘[i]t cannot be ruled out that disproportionate force was used by members of the defence services in some cases, in disregard of international law’ and that ‘they did not distinguish clearly enough between ARSA fighters and civilians’ but insisted that any breaches would be investigated internally. This defence, essentially arguing that crimes were committed by ‘bad apples’ in the military (Simpson 2020) rather than systematically by

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design, has been clearly debunked by the accumulated evidence, including satellite imagery, that shows the erasure of the Rohingya community was clearly systematic. In addition, internal judicial redress within Myanmar has been shown to be almost ineffectual; there have already been several compliant internal inquiries, all of which have cleared the military of any systematic crimes in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. The government-­appointed Independent Commission of Enquiry (ICOE) did break the taboo on criticism of the Tatmadaw by finding that security forces and civilians committed war crimes and violated human rights in Rakhine State but continued the fiction that these were rogue elements rather than a systematic policy (Sithu Aung Myint 2020). Several years of watching Aung San Suu Kyi’s government placating the military did not prepare seasoned analysts for the spectacle at the Hague; one of the most venerable and forensic Myanmar-­ watchers, Andrew Selth, argued that, considered overall, ‘it was an astonishing performance, which left many observers wondering at times whether Aung San Suu Kyi actually believed the nonsense she was peddling’ (Selth 2019). The court surprised no one in the international community when, in late January 2020, it unanimously declared that The Gambia had established prima facie a breach of the Genocide Convention. It issued several urgent measures to Myanmar to prevent both further acts related to breaches of the convention and the destruction of evidence regarding breaches and regular reporting to the court on the measures undertaken to underpin these activities (ICJ 2020). The Gambia had until 23 July 2020 to submit its full case and Myanmar had until 25 January 2021 to submit its response. The ICJ has no power to enforce its judgements and compel a state to take action. It therefore relies on the UN Security Council to support its judgements. Unfortunately, China has veto power at the Security Council and as a key Myanmar ally it, along with Vietnam, refused to agree to a statement compelling Myanmar to comply with the measures, leaving European representatives to make a joint statement alone (Al Jazeera 2020). Although the ICJ decision was celebrated by Rohingya refugees in the Bangladeshi camps and is a landmark case in their fight for justice, the limited powers of the court mean that little may change on the ground (Wade 2020). It is, of course, well understood that the government led by the NLD and its de facto leader, Aung San Suu Kyi, has no oversight over the Myanmar military and clearly the Commander-­in-Chief of the military, Senior General Min Aung Hlaing, and other Tatmadaw generals rather than Aung San Suu Kyi, bear most of the responsibility for the ruthless military operation (Farrelly and Simpson 2018). Nevertheless, she is the undisputed moral and political leader of the country and is perhaps the only person in the country who could have successfully communicated to its citizenry the suffering and abuse experienced by the Rohingya and provided an empathetic response. In contrast, her silence on the military’s brutality and her attempts to exculpate it from wrongdoing furthers the normalisation in Myanmar of what, under any reasonable assessment, constitutes ethnic cleansing, crimes against humanity and perhaps even genocide.

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When Aung San Suu Kyi came to power in April 2016 she faced an enormous range of political and economic issues, a legacy from a half century of military rule. These problems cannot be underestimated, but her efforts to placate the hardline elements in the armed forces and among Buddhist nationalist cohorts have destroyed much of her former global standing. The government’s ongoing willingness to turn a blind eye to extreme and widespread violence against a minority in the country continues to diminish its legitimacy. The difficulties faced by the government in Rakhine State, and elsewhere, have been exacerbated by the emerging civil war with the Arakan Army, an ethnic Rakhine armed group also active in Kachin and Shan States in coalition with other ethnic armed groups. The group was formed in 2009 but throughout 2019 it became one of the most prominent ethnic armed groups in Myanmar and a serious insurgent challenge for the Myanmar military, with dozens of deaths on both sides and 50–100,000 new IDPs created in Rakhine State, affecting both Rakhine and Rohingya civilians (Davis 2020; International Crisis Group 2019). To deal with the insurgency, internet blackouts were imposed from June 2019 in nine townships across Rakhine and Chin States, impacting on the ability of civilians from various communities in these areas to communicate with each other but also to report human rights abuses or communicate with journalists (Simpson 2019). Compounding earlier restrictions on aid groups and journalists imposed due to the Rohingya conflict, by February 2020, 8 of Rakhine’s 17 townships were either given severely restricted access or were completely off-­limits, resulting in both aid and information blockages to and from the region (Htusan 2020). The internet blackouts were removed in some townships in September 2019 but were reimposed unexpectedly on 3 February 2020, the same day that the Arakan Army published a statement online declaring that it would release evidence of mass graves of Muslims killed and buried by the Myanmar military in Rakhine State (Fortify Rights 2020). Similar internet and mobile restrictions were imposed on the Rohingya refugee camps on the Bangladesh side of the border in September 2019 (Simpson 2019). During the evolving COVID-­19 coronavirus pandemic in early 2020, these restrictions exacerbated misinformation regarding the conditions within the camps, where social distancing was almost impossible. This was further aggravated by a ‘complete lockdown’ of the camps by the Bangladeshi government on 8 April, which restricted aid deliveries and the flow of information in and out of the camps (AFP 2020). While the new conflict in Rakhine State is creating additional suffering there is a tangible difference between its impact on ethnic Rakhine and Rohingya communities. Around 600,000 Rohingya still remain in Rakhine State but they are effectively stateless, with no citizenship, no political representation and very little freedom of movement. There are still around 100,000 behind the barbed wire of internment camps but even those not in the camps are still restricted in their movement, unable to travel for work or medical care, and living under the threat of genocide (Human Rights Watch 2020). The ethnic Rakhine of the Arakan Army, on the other hand, have citizenship, voting rights and control over the Rakhine

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parliament. The Rakhine parliamentarians used this power by voting unanimously to press the government to block the resettlement of the Rohingya, should they ever want to return (Wade 2019: 402).

Conclusion: future challenges Whatever empathy we may have for Aung San Suu Kyi’s predicament, she will not recover her reputation. She will forever face hard questions, as she did in The Hague, about her inability to prevent, and, more importantly, refusal to condemn, ethnic cleansing on her watch. Aung San Suu Kyi is the leader of the elected government, somebody who told us she was ‘above the president’, and her political alignment with crimes against humanity will forever tarnish her reputation. Her personal ambitions – defined mostly by her desire to be president and her commitment to fulfil her assassinated father’s dream of a united, federal, peaceful Myanmar – have left no space for creative policy. Instead, she will always be known for her failure to protect vulnerable Rohingya communities from the full might of the Myanmar armed forces and for failing to denounce this violence. There were concerns in some quarters as the NLD government came to power in 2016, and throughout the rest of its tenure, that the threat of a military coup would mean Aung San Suu Kyi’s actions were severely restricted and as a result she could not condemn military actions. This argument was almost entirely spurious. The military had been brought in from the cold internationally, their business interests were thriving domestically – including the launch of a new mobile phone operator, MyTel in February 2018 – and the NLD government could take the blame, domestically, for government mismanagement and internationally for human rights abuses. Why would it disrupt such a comfortable arrangement? Even if the government felt insecure in its position when it first took office, it was clear, as the years rolled by, that the military was extremely unlikely to launch a coup. What, then, motivated Aung San Suu Kyi to travel to The Hague and provide such a strong defence of the military’s actions? The only reasonable conclusion from her actions is that she did not disagree, or disagree strongly enough, to differentiate her own position from that of the military and that her success in the 2020 elections overrode clear evidence of crimes against humanity. In this respect, Aung San Suu Kyi elevated her own political survival above the survival of many Rohingya on Myanmar soil. Once the security forces made their moves she claimed to have no power to stop them. Her lack of public criticism ex post facto indicates that the Rohingya, for her, never belonged in Myanmar in the first place. This is not inconsistent with her earlier writings on the threats to the Burmese ‘racial survival’ and ‘racial purity’ (Thant Myint-­U 2020: 41). One of the most inadequate defences by some of the remaining Aung San Suu Kyi supporters outside the country is that she is not a democracy activist or icon, she is ‘a politician’, as she herself has repeatedly stated (Rhodes 2019). Being a politician, however, does not obviate the ability, or need, to act ethically. Even if compromise might sometimes be required, politicians should have principles,

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­ articularly when it comes to crimes against humanity. Politicians who accumulate p power for its own sake, for self-­aggrandisement or that of their family are generally considered unethical political actors. Donald Trump, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and Viktor Orbán are all politicians but that does not mean we should refrain from criticising their actions when they propagate division and hate. Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD may not have control of the military or the constitution but they have a parliamentary majority that could make or repeal any legislated laws in the country. We know they are overly sensitive to media or civil society criticism since they don’t oppose the prosecution under colonial or military era security laws, such as the Official Secrets Act, of Pulitzer Prize-­winning journalists highlighting human rights abuses (Shoon Naing and Lewis 2019). The NLD hasn’t repealed these retrograde older security laws, or the more recent but vaguely­worded section 66(d) of the 2013 Telecommunications Law. Both the government and the military continue to deploy these semi-­authoritarian laws to silence their critics. Once again, we do not underestimate the difficulty of the situation faced by Aung San Suu Kyi but her lack of enthusiasm for supporting the basic tenets of democratic rule, such as a free media and civil society activism, suggest at the very least a disappointing prioritisation of reforms. Aung San Suu Kyi is not the only one who has failed when it comes to leadership, and it is clear that the international community shares some of the blame. Strongly worded advice to the UN in Myanmar, from aid and human rights workers who had seen the same warning signs before mass atrocities in Sri Lanka’s civil war, was largely ignored (Wade 2019: 335–81). Myanmar is a complex environment, defined by ethnic, religious, linguistic and political rivalries that stretch back for centuries. The British colonial period entrenched a range of challenging faultlines, most acutely between the Bamar majority population of lowland Myanmar, defined by its Buddhist spirituality, and the diverse ethnic and religious minorities of the borderlands. For the British, government was made simpler by splicing-­and-dicing, the classic strategy of ‘divide and rule’ to ensure Bamar interests were subsumed by a project to exploit, in every sense, the country’s natural and human resources. The decades of political conflict, civil war and military misrule that followed independence in 1948 have only served to reinforce Myanmar’s reputation as a difficult environment in which to deliver positive policy outcomes. The complexity of the social, political and economic terrain helps to explain why so much investment has been made in stories that simplify the dynamics. Aung San Suu Kyi herself, as a supposed exemplar of liberal values and democratic instincts, served as a helpful reification of Myanmar interests. The presumption, too often inferred by default, was that she would conform, by education and ideology, to the generous spirit of her idealistic supporters. They wanted her to be like them or, at least, to see the world from their perspective. It appears that she has failed on both counts. Another oversimplified perspective through which Myanmar’s development could be viewed relates to the role of the armed forces. The demonisation of military power, especially in the context of inter-­ethnic civil war, was always understandable, and yet it also generated a general attitude of avoidance when it

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comes to the armed forces. Ethnic groups, on the other hand, were often given a positive appraisal due to their oppositional stance. Anybody who fights the Myanmar army was, in that logic, part of the solution to Myanmar’s problems. We are all guilty, to varying extents, of indulging in these simplifications, since we often must employ shorthand explanations of extremely complex dynamics, but where they have the most damaging effects is in policy terms: Aung San Suu Kyi’s lacklustre gerontocratic regime was entirely predictable; its nationalist impulses match those of the armed forces leadership; and the NLD has never been completely comfortable with ethnic or religious plurality. Policymakers from abroad, enamoured of Aung San Suu Kyi’s potential to transform Myanmar, made every effort to accept her priorities and minimise criticism. Aung San Suu Kyi, for her part, was never particularly talented at prioritising the most pressing policy needs or providing clear guidance to the foreign investors and development practitioners so eager to see Myanmar succeed. Under these conditions, the NLD government has seen most of its international standing eroded by the brutal crackdown on the Rohingya. There are no winners in this conflict and it is difficult to see a just solution emerging anytime soon.

Note 1 Census results in 2014 indicated that the population of Myanmar was almost 51.5 million, which included an estimated 1.2 million in northern Rakhine State, Kachin State and Kayin State who were not enumerated, partially due to civil conflict. It was estimated that, of these, 1.09 million were Muslims in Rakhine State who were not counted due to their insistence on being identified as Rohingya. The remaining population of Rakhine State was 2.1 million, meaning the Rohingya comprised an estimated one-­third of the total population at this time (Government of Myanmar 2017: 10).

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Index

Page numbers followed by ‘n’ refer to notes 12-Point Economic Policy 112 15 minute parliament 19 969 Movement 194 1990 elections 19, 67, 90–1, 187, 207 2008 constitution see constitution 2010 elections 2, 5, 6, 17, 18, 19, 21, 24, 32, 66, 69, 75, 76, 91, 93, 124, 178, 191, 192, 198, 237, 251 2012 by-elections 2, 5, 76, 126 2015 elections 2, 5, 20, 21, 22–3, 26, 35, 48, 51, 68, 69, 70, 74, 76, 77, 93, 94, 112, 144, 180, 195, 198, 214, 238, 253 2017 by-elections 70 2020 elections 1–2, 69, 77, 78, 183, 235, 245, 249, 256, 259 AAPPB see Assistance Association for Political Prisoners Burma Adaptation of Expression Law 63 ADB see Asian Development Bank ADS see Agricultural Development Strategy agglomeration effects 130 agribusiness 138, 141, 142 Agricultural Development Strategy (ADS) 142, 143 agriculture 106, 112, 130, 136, 137, 139–43, 145, 149, 151, 152; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 141–4; co-evolution of 136; commodities 139; concessions 157; enterprises 145; exploitation 107; extension services 144; investment in 139–41; land 144; mechanisation 140,

144; Myanmar under military rule 137–8; organization 143, 156; policies 137; production 136, 137, 143, 151; products 111; public service provision 146; regions 143; research 137, 145; residue 153; resource extraction 137–8; and rural economy 137–41; and rural life 136, 139, 145; sector 107, 115, 137, 141, 145; surpluses 207; technology 137; Thein Sein and USDP 139–41 agro-food industry 123 agro-food parks 130 agro-processors 145 aircraft 30, 40n4 alien races 219–20 All Burma Student Democratic Front 189 Amyotha Hluttaw (House of Nationalities, upper house) 36; see also parliament Anawrahta 178 Anglo-Burmese war 4 animism 230 anti-colonial struggle 40n1 anti-communist struggle 40n1 Anti-Corruption 53–4, 94; see also corruption anti-intervention struggle 40n1 Aquaculture Law 138 Arakan Army 70, 258 Arakan National Party 70 Arakan Rohingya Solidarity Association (ARSA) 97, 235, 242, 254, 255 Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) 171–2

266   Index

Ardeth Thawnghmung 59, 69 ARSA see Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army Article 40(C), constitution 36 ‘The Art of Surviving in Prison 3’ 179 arts 171–83; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 180–2; censorship 174; and heritage sectors 176, 180, 182; journal 178; languish 175; military rule and 174–8; scene 180; schools 172; spaces 178; Thein Sein and USDP 178–80 ASEAN see Association of Southeast Asian Nations ASI see Archaeological Survey of India Asian Development Bank (ADB) 92, 110, 111, 113, 123, 142, 152, 155, 160 Asian Solidarity movement 88 Assistance Association for Political Prisoners Burma (AAPPB) 190 Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) 18, 90, 92, 98, 109, 112, 177; Committee on Culture and Information (COCI) 177; countries 111, 179; organisation 177 Aung Hla Tun 243 Aung La N Sang 229 Aung San 91 Aung San/Ne Win generation 40n1 Aung San Suu Kyi 1, 5–6, 11, 19–26, 45, 76, 77, 91, 94, 95, 98, 125, 214, 249, 253, 256, 257, 259–61; actions 259; agriculture and 141–4; art and 180–2; borderland 214–16; civil-military relations, managing 35–8; culture 227–31; democracy and 5, 49, 77–9; economic policy 111–15; election win 2015 22; ethnicity 227–31; ethnic politics 69–70; Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative 161–3; foreign policy 94–8; free speech and 239–45; globalisation and cultural resurgence 227–31; heritage and 180–2; human rights and 77–9; industrial policy 127–9; international engagement 94–8; journalism and 239–45; law 52–5; National League for Democracy (NLD) 17; natural resources and 159–63; and NLD 21–3, 35–8; political regimes 111–15; religion 227–31; Rohingya crisis 253–9; SLORC 176; special economic zones 127–9; as State Counsellor 35; women’s rights and 195–8 Aung Soe Min 41n8, 178 AusAID 158

Australian Corporations Act 2001 132 Aye Myint Kyu 39 Bagan 172, 175–8, 179, 181; heritage zone 182; world heritage listing 9, 181 Bamar 4, 61, 219–21, 228, 231; abbot 225; accent 229; Buddhist 176, 178; and Buddhist vision 250; culture 174, 179; interests 260; leaders 21; leadership and population 15; majority 16, 159, 220, 260; perspective 181; privilege 219; supporters 21 banking 92, 106, 124; sectors 112; system 107 bankruptcy 207 Bar Council Act 47, 54 Ba Swe 88 Belt and Road Initiative 96, 128, 212–13 BIA see Burma Independence Army borderlands 96, 205, 207, 210, 214, 216, 260; accumulation 210; actors 215; areas 22, 206, 208, 209, 211, 213; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 214–16; development and armed conflict 204–16; dynamics 206; economic transformation 210; governance structures 216; groups 215; military rule and 205–11; Myanmar’s contested 204–16; Myanmar’s post-1988 207–11; populations 205, 207, 212, 213, 216; regions 3, 206, 208, 214, 215; societies 22; Thein Sein and USDP 211–14 borders 22, 66, 139, 191, 192, 194, 204, 207, 209, 213, 215, 249, 251, 255; affairs 37, 96, 214; areas 65, 66, 130, 138, 176, 213, 224, 226; connections 210; groups 66; guard post 196; policymaking 96; posts 254; refugee camps 255; regions 5, 9, 157; towns 215; trade 208, 212, 215 Brown, Ian 121 BSPP see Burma Socialist Programme Party Buddhism 62, 172, 173, 220, 222, 224, 225, 227; and Bamar culture 174; and Burmese language 231 Buddhist 70, 83, 84, 219, 222, 224, 231; monks 50; nationalism 70, 198; protectionist groups 51 budgets 67, 78, 143, 192, 193; deficits 108; support 143 bureaucracy 6, 23, 151; capacity 150, 215; reforms 98; supervising 121 bureaucratisation 220, 228 Burma, historical 4–5, 11n1, 45, 47, 53, 62–3, 69, 74, 106, 121–2, 172, 173, 175, 178, 187–8, 204–6, 209

Index   267

Burma Independence Army (BIA) 28 Burma Proper 205 Burma Socialist Programme Party (BSPP) 5, 7, 29, 31, 75, 121–2, 174–6, 187, 221, 250–1; isolationist policies 175 Burman see Bamar Burman-Buddhist nationalism 84 Burmanisation 63, 70, 120, 122, 219–32; military rule and 220–5; see also Bamar Burmese Way to Socialism (BWS) 31, 106, 137 BWS see Burmese Way to Socialism Callahan, Mary 62, 65, 186 Caretaker Government 29, 30 Carlson, Melissa 178 Carothers, Thomas 84 ceasefire capitalism 65, 210 CEDAW see Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women Central Bank of Myanmar 107 centralisation 219–32 Cheesman, Nick 61, 64, 79 Chin 221, 230 China 7, 17, 26, 30, 38, 40, 41, 87, 88, 90, 91, 93, 96, 98, 107, 114, 120, 121, 123, 124, 126, 127, 128, 139, 140, 141, 153, 154, 157, 158–9, 160, 205, 206, 208–13, 215, 249, 256, 257; see also Belt and Road Initiative; China-Myanmar Economic Corridor China-Myanmar Economic Corridor (CMEC) 96, 128, 160, 212 China Power Investment Corporation (CPIC) 93, 153 Christianity 222 Cinematograph (Amendment) Act 1957 174 Citizenship Law 251 civil-military relations 29, 35–9 civil society groups 18; organisations 49, 82, 126, 190 Civil war 16 CMEC see China-Myanmar Economic Corridor Cold War bipolarization 89 colonial geography 205 combined arms exercises (CAE) 41n6 Commander-in-Chief, Defence Services 36 Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) 189, 190, 194, 199n4 Communist Party of Burma (CPB) 206 Companies Law 2017 113

conflict 4, 59 constitution 5–7, 16, 17, 31, 32, 35–7, 39, 49, 50, 67, 78, 96, 191, 235; accords 35; amendments 39, 62, 76, 77; arrangement 37; authority 50; change 70, 77; constraints 7; consultation 67; democracy 29, 206; plan 20; provisions 39; referendum 93; restriction 5; return 50; review 49; status 49; tribunal 49; writs 49 contemporary art 182; see also art Contempt of Courts Act 1926 52 coronavirus pandemic see COVID-19 corruption 8, 53–4, 78, 81, 94, 124–5, 149–50, 159, 236 counterinsurgency soldier 29 coup culture 22 COVID-19 1, 2, 258 CPB see Communist Party of Burma CPIC see China Power Investment Corporation cultural histories: creating and preserving 171–83 cultural identity 60 cultural space 224 culture 219–32; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 227–31; military rule and 220–5; Thein Sein and USDP 226–7 Cunningham, Nance 178 ‘cutting, making and packing’ (CMP) system 123 Cyclone Nargis 17–18, 30, 91, 139, 152, 160, 190 DAB see Democratic Alliance of Burma Dawei Development Association 155 Dean, Karin 64 Defence Service Academy (DSA) 33, 34 delineation 69 democracy 74–85, 220; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 77–9; Myanmar under military rule 74–6; national security state, building 74–6; national security state, reforming 76; seven-step roadmap 23; Thein Sein and USDP 76; transformation 18 Democratic Alliance of Burma (DAB) 66 Democratic Karen Buddhist Army/ Democratic Karen Benevolent Army (DKBA) 64 Democratic Voice of Burma (DVB) 230 DKBA see Democratic Karen Buddhist Army/Democratic Karen Benevolent Army domestic priorities 87–99

268   Index

double transition 16 DSA see Defence Service Academy due diligence 21 DVB see Democratic Voice of Burma EAGs see ethnic armed groups EAOs see ethnic armed organisations economic development 79 economic policies 105–16, 188; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 111–15; economic life under junta 106–8; isolationism to tentative engagement 106–8; reform and reintegration, global economy 108–11; Thein Sein and USDP 108–11 economic policies 2016 112 education 10, 81, 113, 191, 221, 222, 260; authorities 228; autonomy 221; department 222; institutions 89; levels 174; opportunities 188; system 24 EEZ see Exclusive Economic Zone egregious practices 48 EIA see environmental impact assessment EITI see Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative El Dorado 126 electoral system 17 Electronic Transactions Law 2004 51 Eleven Media Group 245 Emergency Regulations Act 1950 51 environmental impact assessment (EIA) 151, 153 epistemological decolonisation 221 ethnic armed groups (EAGs) 62, 63, 65–8 ethnic armed organisations (EAOs) 138, 197, 208, 209, 212, 213, 222, 223 ethnic cleansing 3 ethnic communities 62–3, 65, 66, 156 Ethnic Culture and Traditions 221 ethnic groups 4, 21, 23, 61–3, 67–9, 186, 207 ethnic identity 7, 59, 60, 63, 64, 71, 82, 219, 229 ethnicities 4, 7, 9, 59, 60, 62–4, 68, 69, 71, 219–32, 253; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 227–31; conceptual language of 60–1; existential threat 62–6; identity category 60; military rule and 220–5; oppositional identity 62–6; Thein Sein and USDP 226–7 ethnic language teaching 226 ethnic minorities 3, 4, 6, 8, 152, 154, 159, 161, 221, 223, 224, 226, 227, 229; groups 236; languages 221, 223, 224, 226

ethnic nationalities 61–3, 68, 161, 221 ethnic politics 59–71; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 69–70; ceasefire efforts 66–9; electoral opportunities 66–9; Myanmar under military rule 62–6; Thein Sein and USDP 66–9 ethnic states 63, 65, 69, 71, 206, 207 ethnic vote 69 ETZs see export-trading zones Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) 30 Exhibitions Monitoring Act 177 exile 82, 223, 224, 226, 236, 237 export-oriented production 110 export-trading zones (ETZs) 126, 129 Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (EITI) 150, 157–9 Facebook 3, 227, 240–3 fake news 2, 10 fear 234–46 Ferguson, Jane 69 FESR see Framework for Economic and Social Reforms festivals 224 fifty-year authoritarian trap 16 financial networks 91 food security 107, 136 force modernisation 30 foreign direct investment (FDI) 111, 128 foreign exchange certificates 107 Foreign Investment Law 106, 109, 110, 209 foreign land ownership 107 foreign-owned enterprises 106 foreign policy 87–99; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 94–8; hermit nation to pariah state 89–91; illusions and delusions 94–8; Myanmar under military rule 89–91; post-independence decade, active neutralism 88–9; Thein Sein and USDP 91–4 four cuts policy 62, 188 Framework for Economic and Social Reforms (FESR) 109, 126 freedom 234–46 free speech 234–46; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 239–45; military rule and 234–7; Thein Sein and USDP 237–9 Frontier Areas 205 Fukuda doctrine 127 GAFSP see Global Agricultural Food Security Program gender: equality 186–8, 192, 194, 197, 198, 199n1; gap 188; order 191

Index   269

Genocide Convention 196, 256–7; see also Rohingya Global Agricultural Food Security Program (GAFSP) 142 Global Forest Resources Assessment 2015 157 Global Witness 158 GONGOS 190 Gravers, Mikael 60 The Hague 78, 97, 249–50, 257, 259; see also International Court of Justice Hakha 222 Harakah al-Yaqin 254; see also ARSA hate speech 3 Hedström, Jenny 59 heritage 171–83; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 180–2; military rule and 174–8; Thein Sein and USDP 178–80 High Court Lawyers Association 54 Hinthada Karen High School 222 Houtman, Gustaaf 63 Hpakant, Kachin State 157, 162 Htein Lin 180 human rights 74–85; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 77–9; Myanmar under military rule 74–6; national security state, building 74–6; national security state, reforming 76; Thein Sein and USDP 76 ICC see International Criminal Court ICCPR see International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights ICJ see International Court of Justice ICOM see International Council of Museums IFC see International Finance Corporation indophobic form 228 industrial policy 120–32; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 127–9; autarky to cautious liberalisation 120–6; Myanmar under military rule 120–6; Thein Sein and USDP 126–7 industrial zones (IZs) 124, 125, 129–31 INGOs see international non-governmental organisations institutional conditions 81 inter-ethnic civil war 260 inter-ethnic harmony 21 International Council of Museums (ICOM) 180 International Court of Justice (ICJ) 50, 97, 196, 228, 232, 249, 256–7 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) 95

International Criminal Court (ICC) 244, 255–6 international engagement 87–99; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 94–8; hermit nation to pariah state 89–91; illusions and delusions 94–8; Myanmar under military rule 89–91; post-independence decade, active neutralism 88–9; Thein Sein and USDP 91–4 International Finance Corporation (IFC) 161 International Monetary Fund 141 international non-governmental organisations (INGOs) 252 Islamisation 51 Islamophobic 227–8; see also Muslims; Rohingya IZs see industrial zones jade 8, 150, 151, 158–9, 162, 210; mining accidents 157, 162 Jinghpaw 222; hegemony 64 joint services exercise (JSE) 41n6 Jordt, Ingrid 224 journalism 234–46; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 239–45; military rule and 235–7; Thein Sein and USDP 237–9 Judicial Code of Ethics 53 judicial reform 50 junta 46, 75, 91, 93 Kaba Aye Pagoda 173 Kachin 4, 35, 64, 221, 230; China border 210; conflict 67; ethno-nationalist struggle 59 Kachin Independence Army (KIA) 16, 17, 67, 211 Karen 4, 83, 221, 230; armed conflict 59; diversity 64; Karen-ness 64; State 221; see also Kayin Karen Baptist Convention (KBC) 221, 222 Karen National Liberation Army 16 Karen National Union (KNU) 64, 209, 222 Karen Women’s Organization (KWO) 197 Karenni 230; see also Kayah Karenni National Progressive Party (KNPP) 223, 226 Kayah 221, 226; culture 227; language 223, 226; State 70, 153, 226; see also Karenni Kayin 152, 221; State 153, 209; see also Karen KBC see Karen Baptist Convention Keyes, Charles 60 Khin Nyunt 65 KIA see Kachin Independence Army

270   Index

KNPP see Karenni National Progressive Party KNU see Karen National Union Kofi Annan 97, 254 Konbaung Dynasty 4 Kudo 123 Kuomintang (KMT) 205, 206 KWO see Karen Women’s Organization Kyae Poe Gyi 226 Kyaukpyu 96, 110, 126–8, 160, 210, 212 Kyaw Nyein 88 Kyaw Soe Oo 44 Kyaw Tint Swe 94 Lah, David 227 Laib, Wolfgang 180 Land Acquisition Act 150 land disputes 52 law: Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 52–5; declining fortunes of 45–8; shadows of military rule 48–52; Thein Sein and USDP 48–52 lawyers: declining fortunes of 45–8 legal education 47 legal reforms 240 Letpadaung (Monywa) Copper Mine 151, 157 Light Infantry Divisions (LIDs) 29 Lokanat 175 low quality democracy 79 MaBaTha (the Organisation to Protect Race and Religion) 50, 53, 70, 194, 253 MADB see Myanmar Agricultural Development Bank MAF see Myanmar Air Force Mandalay 24 Mann, Shwe 92 marketisation 106 Maung Aung Myoe 38 Maung Aye 33 Maung Soe 38 McConnachie, Kirsten 66 MCWA see Myanmar Maternal and Child Welfare Association MEC see Myanmar Economic Corporation media freedom 239 Meehan, Patrick 65 Mekong Region Land Governance (MRLG) 138 militarisation 209, 210 military 5, 6, 10, 16, 17, 35, 39, 46, 75, 77, 78, 80, 157, 237, 241, 244, 255–7, 259; art and 174–8; autarky to cautious liberalisation 120–6; authority 65, 79,

210, 214, 216; backed civilian government 108; borderlands and 205–11; caretaker government 75; control 65, 78, 210; dictatorship 45, 47, 52, 55, 183, 221; doctrine 38; elites 122, 206, 211, 213, 215, 216; free speech and 234–7; governance 59, 150–4; government 7, 18, 47, 51, 63, 75, 91, 151, 192, 206, 220; hardware 30, 32; heritage and 174–8; institutional reform, engaging 32–5; institution and politics 28–42; intelligence 6; interests 18, 19, 67; journalism and 235–7; Myanmar under military rule 29–32, 45–8; natural resources and 150–4; period 224, 225; power 18, 191, 260; repression and resistance 186–91; Rohingya crisis and 250–1; SLORC/SPDC, private industry 122–6; socialism and import-substitution strategies, Burmese way 121–2; strength and role, expanding 29–32; Thein Sein and USDP 32–5; women’s rights and 186–91 military-linked interests 108 military-to-military exchange 97 Min Aung Hlaing 33, 96–8, 241, 244, 255 mining 8, 107, 151, 157, 159, 161, 162, 210 Ministry of Agriculture and Irrigation (MOAI) 139, 140 Ministry of Agriculture, Livestock and Irrigation (MOALI) 142, 143 MNCWA see Myanmar National Committee for Women’s Affairs MNDAA see Myanmar National Democratic Alliance Army MOAI see Ministry of Agriculture and Irrigation MOALI see Ministry of Agriculture, Livestock and Irrigation Mon language programme 222 Mrauk-U 182, 252 MRLG see Mekong Region Land Governance MRTV 230 MSDP see Myanmar Sustainable Development Plan Multi-Sectoral National Plan of Action for Nutrition (MS-NPAN) 143 Museum Week 173 Muslims 2, 3, 83, 253; anti-Muslim sentiment 50, 70, 227–8; and Buddhist faultline 3; Kaman Muslims 252; see also Islamophobic; Rohingya

Index   271

MWAF see Myanmar Women’s Affairs Federation Myanmafication 63 Myanmar Agricultural Development Bank (MADB) 140 Myanmar Air Force (MAF) 40n4 Myanmar Citizens Investment Law 2013 110, 113 Myanmar Climate Change Master Plan 161 Myanmar Economic Corporation (MEC) 31, 32, 124 Myanmar EITI Beneficial Ownership report 163 Myanmar Idol 229 Myanmar Industrial Development Bank 110 Myanmar Investment Law 2016 113 Myanmar Maternal and Child Welfare Association (MCWA) 190 Myanmar National Committee for Women’s Affairs (MNCWA) 190 Myanmar National Democratic Alliance Army (MNDAA) 93 Myanmar Navy (MN) 30 Myanmar’s Muslim Rohingya refugees 1 Myanmar’s national security state 74–85 Myanmar Sustainable Development Plan (MSDP) 112, 127 Myanmar Times 236 Myanmar Women’s Affairs Federation (MWAF) 190 Myint Swe 256 Nargis see Cyclone Nargis National Comprehensive Development Plan 109 National Ceasefire Agreement (NCA) 17, 70, 197, 214, 215 National Defence and Security Council (NDSC) 37, 39 National Economic and Social Advisory Council (NESAC) 142 National Export Strategy 2015 109 National League for Democracy (NLD) 1, 2, 5, 19, 21–3, 26, 35–8, 51, 66, 74, 80, 91, 98, 105; agriculture and 141–4; art and 180–2; borderland 214–16; culture 227–31; democracy and 77–9; economic policy 111–15; elections 2015 48; ethnicity 227–31; ethnic politics 69–70; Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative 161–3; foreign policy 94–8; free speech and 239–45; globalisation and cultural resurgence 227–31; heritage and 180–2; human rights and 77–9;

industrial policy 127–9; international engagement 94–8; journalism and 239–45; law 52–5; natural resources and 159–63; political regimes 111–15; religion 227–31; right industrial policy 127–9; Rohingya crisis 253–9; special economic zones 127–9; women’s rights and 195–8; see also Aung San Suu Kyi National Land Use Council (NLUC) 144 National Land Use Policy (NLUP) 141, 155, 156 National Peace Dialogues 70 National Race Channel (NRC) 230 National Security Advisor (NSA) 95 National Security and Defence Council (NSDC) 94 national security state 77–8; building 74–6; low quality democracy 79; partial democracy 78; reforming 76; shallow democracy 78–9 National Strategic Plan for the Advancement of Women (NSPAW) 193 natural resources 87; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 159–63; Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative 157–9, 161–3; military rule and 150–4; Thein Sein and USDP 154–9; wealth and conflict 149–63 naval region commands 30 Naypyitaw 19, 20, 22–4, 88, 91–3 Nay Pyi Taw 140, 175, 179 NCA see National Ceasefire Agreement NDSC see National Defence and Security Council Nehru, Jawaharlal 88 NESAC see National Economic and Social Advisory Council New Bagan 176 Ne Win 5, 17, 45, 62, 89, 90, 106, 124, 129, 174, 175, 178, 206, 207, 216 New Mon State Army 16 NLD see National League for Democracy NLUC see National Land Use Council NLUP see National Land Use Policy Nobel Peace Prize 91 NRC see National Race Channel NSA see National Security Advisor NSDC see National Security and Defence Council NSPAW see National Strategic Plan for the Advancement of Women 193 Oberndorf, R.B. 155

272   Index

Officer Training Course (OTC) 33, 34 Officer Training School (OTS) 33, 34 Official Secrets Act 45, 240 open tender system 110

Pyithu Hluttaw (House of Representatives, lower house) 36, 92, 187; see also parliament Pyu Cities 179

Panglong Agreement 5, 62, 205, 224 Panglong Conference 63, 69, 193 Panglong process 70 Pansodan Art & Culture 178 Pansodan Gallery 178 Paris Agreement 156, 161 parliament 5, 7, 19, 39, 69–70, 71, 76, 77, 78, 80, 92, 95, 125, 126, 131, 141, 155, 156, 159, 192, 194, 195, 251, 259, 260; see also Amyotha Hluttaw; Pyidaungsu Hluttaw; Pyithu Hluttaw parliamentary democracy 74, 82 partial democracy 78 party politics 80 Patriotic Association of Myanmar 50 Pegu Club 181 Phayre, Sir Arthur 172 policy reforms 107, 111 political actors 16 political conditions 80–5 political conflict 15–17 political interference, court cases 81 political leadership 21 political management 16 political metamorphosis 45 political regimes 105–16; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 111–15; economic life under junta 106–8; isolationism to tentative engagement 106–8; reform and reintegration, global economy 108–11; Thein Sein and USDP 108–11 political-security realities 29 political stalemates: Myanmar under military rule 17–19 political transition 44 politics 6–8; see also individual entries polyglot society 15 Population Control Healthcare Law 194 poverty 83 Prevention of Violence against Women (PoVAW) bill 193 private sector development 108 procedural democracy 74 professional army 40 pro-market reforms 138 Pwo Karen communities 64, 225 Pyidaungsu Hluttaw (Union Assembly) 36, 37; see also parliament Pyidaungsu Tatmadaw (Union Armed Forces) 33

Race and Religious Protection laws 194, 198 Rakhine conflict 244 Rakhine ethnicity 70 Rakhine state 21, 24, 34, 35, 83, 194, 196, 197 Reinvestigation Committee 114 religion 219–32; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 227–31; military rule and 220–5; Thein Sein and USDP 226–7 resource extraction 136 Resource Governance Index 149 Revolutionary Council 31, 121 revolutionary soldier 29 rice prices 138 Rohingya 3, 10, 20, 25–6, 53, 55, 97, 114, 196–7, 226, 230, 243–4, 250–9; antiRohingya sentiment 227–8; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 253–9; and Christian minorities in northern Myanmar 98; crisis 20, 80, 249–61; genocide 3, 10, 78, 97–8, 196, 228, 230, 249, 250, 256–8; militant group 3; and military rule 250–1; population 196, 214, 232, 251; in Rakhine State 7, 249; Thein Sein and USDP 251–3; women 194, 197 rural areas 107, 136, 139–40, 143, 145, 153, 236 rural economy 8, 136–46 rural livelihoods, transform 136–46 rural poverty rates 146n1 Sadan, Mandy 64, 67 Sangha 82, 225 San Shwe 176 San Zaw Htway 178, 179 Saw Maung/Than Shwe generation 40n1 SEATO see Southeast Asia Treaty Organization self-censorship 178 self-determination 82 self-expression 82 self-governance 65 SEZ see special economic zones SFA see State Fund Account Sgaw Karen 64, 222 shallow democracy 78–9 Shan 4, 83, 221; states 35, 65 Shan State Army 17

Index   273

Shan Women Action Network (SWAN) 199n3 short-wave broadcasts 236 Shwe Mann 20 SIM cards 2, 238 Sino-Myanmar borderlands 96 Sino-Myanmar relationship 93 Sixth World Buddhist Council 173 SLORC see State Law and Order Restoration Council Smith, Martin 62 social activism 96 social inclusion 3 social interaction 1 social justice 55 social media 2–3, 9–10, 51, 226–7, 234, 242, 245–6 social transformation 219–32 society 9–11 SOEs see state-owned enterprises South, Ashley 64 Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) 88 SPDC see State Peace and Development Council Special Economic Zone Law 2014 110 special economic zones (SEZ) 120–32, 160; Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 127–9; Myanmar under military rule 120–6; Thein Sein and USDP 126–7; tool for industrialisation 127–9 standard army 39–40; soldier 29 State Fund Account (SFA) 124 State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC) 5, 29, 75, 90, 106, 122–6, 176–9, 183, 207, 208, 251 State-Owned Economic Enterprises Law 131 state-owned enterprises (SOEs) 108, 110, 122, 123, 154 State Peace and Development Council (SPDC) 5, 18, 19, 29, 75, 106, 122–6, 176, 177, 179, 183, 251 strategic realities 87–99 structural conditions 82 substantive democracy 74 Supreme Court 49, 50 taing yin tha 61, 67, 219 Tatmadaw 28–33, 35, 36, 38–40, 41n4, 67, 97, 98, 206; leadership 34, 35; military doctrine 32; officer recruitment, channels 33 tea break advocacy 197 Telecommunications Law 53, 111, 183, 260

telecommunications licences 111 Teza 33 Thailand 230 Than Shwe 5 Thant Myint-U 25, 180 Than Tun 70 Thaung Tun 95 Thein Sein 5, 6, 17–21, 23, 26, 45, 80, 105, 137; agriculture and 139–41; art and 178–80; borderland 211–14; cultural resurgence, transition 226–7; culture 226–7; economic policy 108–11; ethnicity 226–7; ethnic politics 66–9; Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative 157–9; foreign capital 126–7; foreign policy 91–4; free speech 237–9; heritage and 178–80; industrial policy 126–7; international engagement 91–4; journalism 237–9; law and 48–52; natural resources and 154–9; political regimes 108–11; reform and reintegration, global economy 108–11; religion 226–7; Rohingya crisis 251–3; special economic zones 126–7; transition for women 191–5; women’s rights and 191–5 Thilawa 126, 127 Third Force 88 Tin Htut Oo 142 TPNW see UN Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons transgressions 22 Transnational Institute (TNI) 68 Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index 149 Turnell, Sean 16 Twenty-First Century Panglong 197 U Aung Min 67 U Lu Pe Win 173 UMEH see Union of Myanmar Economic Holdings UMEHL see Union of Myanmar Economic Holdings Limited U Myint Hlaing 139 UNDP see United Nations Development Programme UNESCO 9, 181 UNESCO World Heritage listing 176 UNFCCC see UN Framework Convention on Climate Change UNFPA see United Nations Population Fund UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) 152

274   Index

UN Independent International FactFinding Mission 3 Union of Myanmar Economic Holdings (UMEH) 124 Union of Myanmar Economic Holdings Limited (UMEHL) 31, 32, 107 Union Judiciary Law 2010 49 Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP) 19–21, 32, 37, 66, 75, 98, 190; agriculture and 139–41; art and 178–80; borderland 211–14; cultural resurgence, transition 226–7; culture 226–7; economic policy 108–11; ethnicity 226–7; ethnic politics 66–9; Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative 157–9; foreign capital 126–7; foreign policy 91–4; free speech 237–9; heritage and 178–80; industrial policy 126–7; international engagement 91–4; journalism 237–9; law and 48–52; natural resources and 154–9; political regimes 108–11; reform and reintegration, global economy 108–11; religion 226–7; Rohingya crisis 251–3; special economic zones 126–7; transition for women 191–5; women’s rights and 191–5; see also Thein Sein United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) 50 United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) 68 United States Agency for International Development (USAID) 50 United Wa State Army (UWSA) 17, 96 Unity 238 Universities Training Corps 32 Unlawful Associations Act 45, 190 UN Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW) 95 U Nu 62, 88, 172 USAID see United States Agency for International Development USDP see Union Solidarity and Development Party U Thant 88, 180 UWSA see United Wa State Army

vacant, fallow and virgin (VFV) land 138 Vacant, Fallow and Virgin Land Law 213 Vacant, Fallow and Virgin Lands Management Law 2018 115 violence 55, 59–71; resurgence in Rakhine State 97 The Voice 229 Wai Lwin Maung 39 Wa Lone 44, 45, 55, 56 Wa militia 96 War Office Council Instruction (WOCI) 33 warships 30 Wastelands Law 209 Wells, Tamas 79 Win Min 65 Win Myint 241, 245 WLB see Women’s League of Burma WOCI see War Office Council Instruction women: in conflict areas 196; see also women’s rights Women’s League of Burma (WLB) 189, 192, 196, 199n2 Women’s Peace Forum 193 women’s rights: Aung San Suu Kyi and NLD 195–8; change and continuity 186–99; military rule and 186–91; repression and resistance 186–91; Thein Sein and USDP 191–5 Woods, Kevin 65, 210 word-of-mouth 237 World Bank 111, 125, 142, 152 World Monuments Fund 179 World War II 4, 5, 172, 205 xenophobic Citizenship Law 1982 53 X Factor 229 Xi Jinping 93, 96, 128 Yangon 5, 20, 24, 44, 87, 153 Yangon Heritage Trust (YHT) 180, 181 YouTube 227 Zaw Oo 65 Zomi Idol 229 Zwe Yan Naing 180