TEACIRCLEOXFORD MYANMAR-MAY-JUNE 2018 UPDATE

6/25/2018 Fostering constitutional conversation in Myanmar – Tea Circle
https://teacircleoxford.com/2018/06/18/fostering-constitutional-conversation-in-myanmar/ 1/12
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Fostering constitutional
conversation in Myanmar
BY TEACIRCLEOXFORD | JUNE 18, 2018

Embed from Getty Images
Myat Myat Mon discusses the importance of constitutional
conversation and how it can foster more informed public debate
in Myanmar.
Numerous articles featured in both news and academic
sources demand constitutional change in Myanmar, but few
focus on the importance of constitutional conversations
among people of all levels. In contrast, this piece underlines
the importance of constitutional conversation in Myanmar,
proposing that it can enhance the development of an informed
public.

Constitutional conversations are convergence points where
people can discuss the Constitution in general, the important
role it plays, the life cycle of a Constitution and any other
aspect related to Constitutions. Myanmar has adopted three
of cial Constitutions – the 1947 Constitution, the 1974
Constitution and the 2008 Constitution. Constitutional
negotiations have played a key role in political settlement in
Myanmar, such as the Panglong Agreement, which paved the
way to the 1947 Constitution. Constitutions can also be
mechanisms for legitimizing undemocratic regimes. The 1974
Constitution served the socialist regime and evidently, the
2008 Constitution serves the interests of military. On top of
that, ongoing peace negotiations are also tethered to
constitutional questions, placing constitutional conversations
at the front and centre of negotiation tables.
Constitutional conversation, in this piece, means taking part
more in informal or formal discussions on Constitutions and
understanding the fundamentals of Constitutions, what
Constitutions serve for, and the importance of Constitutions.
Reading the Constitution itself and disseminating facts and
analysis is also a form of constitutional conversation. Studies
make clear that the general public in Myanmar is found to lack
constitutional knowledge. A nationwide survey of 3,565
respondents undertaken by MyJustice shows that while 90% of
respondents know there is a Constitution, 84% cannot name
any constitutional rights. In fact, the 2008 Constitution of
Myanmar has a separate chapter (Chapter 8) on citizens’ rights
and responsibilities. Whether these rights are democratic or
not is a different case. Nevertheless, these statistics explicitly

show that most people in Myanmar do not know the details of,
or have not read the content of the Constitution.
Surprisingly, poor public awareness about constitutional rights
is not con ned to Myanmar. A survey done by the University of
Pennsylvania’s Annenberg Public Policy Centre in 2017 nds
that more than a third out of 1,013 adults interviewed could
not name any of rights granted under the First Amendment of
the United States Constitution. This shows that not knowing
constitutional rights, in other words, not knowing about the
Constitution, is not just the case in a nascent democratic state
like Myanmar. At the same time, it is even more important to
have more civic knowledge on Constitutions in young
democracies to familiarize the public with the culture of
democratic systems and their functions.
Constitutional conversation can bring about a stronger civic
knowledge of the Constitution, especially about its structures
and functions of government. Constitutional conversations
could include: formal or informal discussions on the content of
the constitution, the basic structure of the State, the political
actors mentioned in the Constitution, and their roles and
responsibilities. Knowing the basic facts about the
Constitution can help the public check government institutions
and elected of cials, holding them accountable to the voters.
Discussing constitutional matters more in Myanmar can also
lead to more informed debates over political issues in
Myanmar. The current political debates in Myanmar manifest
on social media platforms, which tend to be more nationalistic

in nature. Understanding constitutionally guaranteed rights
and the structures and functions of government will help, at
least, to frame the ow of debates and discussions from a
constitutional perspective and also let the public realize
deeper constitutional problems.
Some constitutional conversations are ongoing in Myanmar,
but not to such an extent that they effectively get the public
engaged. Since May 2018 was the 10 year anniversary of
military-drafted 2008 Constitution, most Myanmar media
outlets reported on the Constitution in April and May of this
year. With this, then, the Constitution was in the public eye
more than ever before. A research report on amending
Schedule Two of the 2008 Constitution was just released in
early May. It is a good sign that media and research reports
increasingly present information about the Constitution and
the history of it in Myanmar to help keep the public informed
on constitutional matters.
However, more forms of constitutional conversations should be
fostered by different actors and stakeholders to get the public
engaged in informed debate and discussion. Media outlets
could feature the basics of general theories on Constitutions,
the fundamentals of Constitutions, the structures and
functions of the 2008 Myanmar Constitution as well as the
constitutional history of Myanmar, such as the forming of the
1947 Constitution and the 1974 Constitution. Media outlets
could also publish more analysis and opinion pieces on
constitutional issues to keep the public informed of the deep-
rooted problems. Civil society organizations and non-pro t

organizations could organize constitution trainings,
roundtables and seminars to educate the general public, the
political and civil society elites more on constitutional
problems in Myanmar so as to engage the public in
constitutional discussions. On top of that, individuals could
also write on the basics of the Constitution in general and
analyse previous Myanmar Constitutions to the end of
widespread distribution on social media platforms to get more
people involved in constitutional discussions.
Fareed Zakaria noted in his piece ‘The Rise of Illiberal
Democracy,’ that constitutional liberalism has led to
democracy, but democracy does not seem to bring
constitutional liberalism. It is very important for the public to
understand the basics of Constitutions and their functions in
general as well as some knowledge on Myanmar’s past and
present Constitutions. Constitutional conversations can be one
of the forces that enable constitutional liberalism and
democracy to thrive in a transitional state like Myanmar.
Myat Myat Mon is currently working in the eld of constitution
building, federalism and democratic governance. She received a
Bachelor’s in Social Studies from the Liberal Arts Program of
Myanmar Institute of Theology. She thanks all who have provided
comments on the rst draft of this piece and Tea Circle editorial
team.
Image Credit: Khin Maung Win/AFP/Getty Images

6/25/2018 What role has social media played in facilitating the spread of hardline nationalist sentiment in Myanmar? – Tea Circle
https://teacircleoxford.com/2018/06/13/what-role-has-social-media-played-in-facilitating-the-spread-of-hardline-nationalist-sentiment-in-myanmar/ 1/20
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What role has social media played in
facilitating the spread of hardline
nationalist sentiment in Myanmar?
Francois-Guillaume Jaeck attempts to identify why, and how,
Myanmar’s ultranationalism provided such fertile ground for the
harmful side of social media to take root.
Tea Circle recently published an article by Ashley S. Kinseth
entitled “Genocide in the Modern Era: Social Media and the
Proliferation of Hate Speech in Myanmar”. In her piece, Kinseth
examined the relationship between social media and con ict,
as well as its recent evolution in the country. She highlights
the “immense dangers of social media”, pointing out that
“there has never been a more powerful tool for the rapid
dissemination of hate speech.” Her piece is a veracious
account, as is her regard of the dissemination of hate speech
as “perhaps the most signi cant precursor to genocide.” This
paper is not a reaction nor a response to her writing. Rather, it

proposes to complement the plethora of issues that she, with
many others such as Alex Aung Khant and Aye Thein, have put
forward. Kinseth has produced an empirical feature,
substantiated by her extensive experience working on issues
related to the purloined rights of the Rohingya. Her factual
observations and organic scholarship offer crucial and
practical insight on what is happening in Northern Rakhine
State (NRS), countrywide in Myanmar, as well as around the
globe. Kinseth elaborates on her concerns regarding the toxic
relationship between social media and ethnic strife –
rightfully so, her worries are not misplaced.
Since the country’s transition to a “quasi-civilian” government
in 2011, Myanmar’s (in)stability has been rocked by various
incidents (such as continued crackdowns on student protests –
including in Letpadan in 2015), with resounding consequences
– all of which have given sceptics of a peaceful transition a
more important voice amongst those of hope. The murder of
prominent Muslim lawyer and close ally of the NLD, U Ko Ni,
as well as the continued con ict in all border regions
(predominantly in Kachin and Shan States) beg the question as
to whether the process of democratic transformation is fully
made use of. Other than the bold but unconvincing
Nationwide Cease re Agreement of 2015 (NCA) – only signed
with a select few ethnic armed groups [EAGs]) – not much has
been done to substantially curb ethnic con ict and violence in
the country. Since August 2017, almost 700,000 Rohingya have
ed Rakhine State into neighbouring Bangladesh as the
Tatdamaw carried out clearance operations responding to
attacks perpetrated by the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army

(ARSA). In May 2018, Amnesty International published a report
accusing ARSA of killing “up to 99 Hindu women, men, and
children” – accusations that ARSA vehemently denies on
its Twitter.
In relation to inter-communal con ict, a recent UN
investigation found that organisations such as Facebook have
“played a determining role” in shaping the situation in Western
Myanmar. Buddhist nationalist rhetoric has spiked as a result
of liberalization and the population’s increasing access to
social media. Kinseth has already established the nefarious
consequences stemming from the social media-con ict nexus
and has given prominence to the “even faster, more graphic”
and “immersive” nature of mass media in relation to the
outbreak of violence. This piece attempts to takes those
questions further on the “why” and the “how” of these issues.
Indeed, why and how, in the context of Myanmar’s sprouting
nationalist rhetoric, have social media platforms been so
instrumental in the spread of hate? In other words, how has
this narrative provided such fertile ground for the dark side of
social media to take root? Taking a step back, I will examine
how ultranationalism, the adherence to Theravada Buddhism,
and social media have indirectly acted in tandem to fuel the
con ict in NRS. As emphasised by Merlyna Lim, social media,
in a society undergoing democratic transition, allows for a
hard-won freedom of expression, but also enables the
unlimited freedom to hate.
The Rise of Nations, Imagined Communities and the Media

A nation, as de ned by Anderson in 1983, is an “imagined
political community” which took its roots in the
Enlightenment, overthrowing the “legitimacy of the divinely-
ordained, hierarchical dynastic realms.” This community is
bound together by the modern capitalist print media, which
creates a common narrative characterised by a “deep” and
“horizontal comradeship.” It is exactly the advent of print
media and capitalism, as well as the rejection of the
hierarchical feudal and religious systems, which allegedly
created the nation. Anderson highlights the aggressiveness of
capitalism; as without it, print media would not have been so
easily and prodigiously dispersed. For Anderson, the late
eighteenth century marks “not only the dawn of the age of
nationalism but the dusk of religious modes of thought.”
Religion had for millennia attempted to explain the plight of
human suffering and had even furthered human fatality into
“continuity.” However, in the Age of Revolutions, Anderson
underlines that the decline of religious feudal thought
required a “secular transformation of fatality into continuity.”
The ecclesiastical promise of eternal life, in the form of a
hereafter, was replaced by the perpetuity of a nation –
guaranteed by one’s membership of such an entity. To
understand nations, it is important to understand the cultural
habits they stem from. This, in turn, has laid the foundations
for nationalism, the feeling of belonging to a particular nation.
Anderson’s theory of media and nationalism is today more
relevant than ever. As it is the case in many other
circumstances, the media (ranging from press to social media)
is unavoidably linked to politics. Positively speaking, access to
[1]
[2]
[3]
[4]

social media has allowed for increased political participation
by the greater civilian population. However, it has also been
used as a tool to inform and in uence the masses in different
ways – with inevitable political agendas appended. According
to Lim, social media during the 2017 Jakarta Gubernatorial
Election was used to capitalise on the effectiveness of “post-
truth politics” where “branding has become integral to
campaign strategy.” In this context, branding refers to the
“psychological representation” of a product – here being the
two contesting candidates, their beliefs and policy campaigns.
Both sides reciprocally depicted the “other” as “outsiders” –
one considered to be a defender of Islamic fundamentalism
(Agus), and the other a traitor to Indonesia’s traditions (Ahok)
– amongst many other denominations. Constructing a
“common enemy” as a threat to a nation’s sovereignty is
common practice – as it can be found in extreme-right wing
discourse in the West in countries like the United Kingdom,
France and the United States.
In the case of Myanmar, some ultranationalist leaders from Ma
Ba Tha (the Association for the Protection of Race and
Religion) and the 969 Movement (the so-called “buy-Buddhist”
movement) have preached anti-Muslim sentiment against
Myanmar’s Rohingya. Using hate speech and framing their
sermons in order to appeal to emotions, leading monks like U
Wirathu have represented the Rohingya as “dogs” over-
reproducing with the goal of “overtaking” the country (a
provocative statement made during a public tirade in Yangon).
Adding the increasingly prominent role of social media in the
equation, the consequences of these sermons are sweeping.

Taking into consideration the lack of digital literacy and the
reliability of information on these platforms, the spread of
hate speech and deception directed towards Muslims can, and
has gone viral. Following Lim’s digital theory, “algorithmic
enclaves” are formed and non-conformist opinions are silenced
by the mainstream “Buddhist” narrative that has been created.
Indeed, research has found that social websites display
information depending on one’s interests and online beliefs
(see online exposure patterns). These “enclaves” are
established “whenever a group of individuals, facilitated by
their constant interactions with algorithms, attempt to create a
(perceived) shared identity online for defending their beliefs
[…] from both real and perceived threats.” Furthermore, as the
consequences of not adhering to this speci c nationalist
viewpoint are perilous – such as threats from both the military
and the ultranationalist Buddhist authority – non-aligned
perspectives will take the winning side.[5] Following from
Anderson’s theory on nations and media, Lim argues that the
combination of nationalist sentiment and new forms of
communicative apparatuses produces “tribal nationalism”.
Consequently, social media used in this way can “deepen
[further] divisions among social groups in society” and
“amplify animosity and intolerance against each other”. David
Scott Mathieson echoes a similar sentiment when discussing
the “perils of un ltered information on social media”. Seymour
M. Hersh refers to this as “stovepiping”: the elevation of
“primary reports to prominence without the necessary
veri cation and contextualising”. In Myanmar, in certain
circumstances, this can easily be the case – especially because
it is inseparably linked to the country’s historical background

and post-independence nationalist sentiment. How has social
media enabled the boundless spread of this hate?
The uncontrollable spread of ultranationalist rhetoric
According to the UN Special Rapporteur on Myanmar, Yanghee
Lee, “everything is done through Facebook in Myanmar” and it
has “turned into a beast” – with the “ultra-nationalist
Buddhists […] inciting a lot of violence and a lot of hatred
against the Rohingya and other ethnic minorities.” An
important point to consider, highlighted by Matthew Walton
and Susan Hayward, are the socio-economic circumstances of
the country. After fty years of military rule and repression,
ethnic groups feel “entrenched wariness, if not outright fear
and hostility” towards the Bamar majority, the central
government as well as amongst themselves. Walton and
Hayward, in their report, also point out that as a result of
ethnic divisions, as well as varied cultural and historical
factors, nationalism in Myanmar has “become increasingly
con ated with Buddhist religious identity.” In other words, to
be a true citizen of the country is to be both Buddhist and
ethnic Bamar. As a consequence, similar to the polarization
during Jakarta’s 2017 elections, non-Buddhist or non-Bamar
groups are more easily labeled as “threats” to the sovereignty
of the nation. Further to this, the lack of education and
knowledge on religion are widespread, fabricating heavy
religious bias especially in regards to the Muslim Rohingya.
The lack of access and relative distrust in mainstream media
have made people turn towards word of mouth and social

media in order to gain information. Indeed, as shown by Tina
Burrett’s study on democratisation and media, a local editor
explained that “for young people in particular, news shared by
friends on Facebook is their main source of information.”
Furthermore, he adds that “they do not question the origins or
authenticity of what they read online.” This becomes
problematic when the issue of fake news is considered –
especially when an “in-group” is attempting to antagonise an
“out-group”. For example, two people were killed and “scores
injured and many Muslim houses and businesses burned” in
the 2014 Mandalay riots – sparked by rumours alluding to a
Buddhist woman having been raped by a Muslim man. After
investigations were conducted, however, this was found to be
untrue. A number of local journalists interviewed in Burret’s
study claimed that the “lack of capacity for critical thinking
among audiences” represented a crucial challenge for
Myanmar’s media – as “audiences were more likely to trust
information posted online by their friends than news
appearing in the professional media.” This dearth is directly
linked to decades of military rule, as critical thinking was
strongly suppressed and completely absent from the
curriculum – even at the university level. The military junta’s
dictatorship lasting generations has had a palpable effect on
the education system and the way people think. Buddhist
Bamar citizens, bene ting from the attribution of full citizenry,
would rather – and understandably so – side with mainstream
thought backed by the military and prominent Buddhist
monks. In complement with the disaffecting nature of
nationalist rhetoric, the hatred of the “other”, social media’s
rapid-circulatory capacity has furthered the reach of this hate

in a country that has “essentially made a digital leap forward
in communications” – consequences of which, in Alex Aung
Khant’s words, “have yet to be examined.”
Another important aspect to consider when dealing with
Myanmar’s ultranationalism is the eminence of Theravada
Buddhism. Eighty-nine percent of the total population are
fervent followers of this strand of Buddhism that, in the past,
had always enjoyed authority in the country. In the olden days
of the Burmese kingdoms, from the Pagan Kingdom to the
Third Burmese Empire under the Konbaung dynasty, the
monastic order (Sangha) maintained a close relationship with
the ruling monarchy. The arrival of the British after the First
Anglo-Burmese War in 1826 saw a strong decline in monastic
sovereignty as the Crown “sought to separate the political and
religious realms.” Further to this, the British, being more
acquainted with populations from the Indian subcontinent,
appointed of cials of Hindu or Muslim descent in
governmental positions. As a consequence, with the import of
Indian labour from the British Raj as an accessory correlative,
the “perceived weakening of Buddhism, in concert with
Christian missionising, fuelled a Burmese nationalist and
Buddhist revival movement in the early twentieth century.”
Hence, after the formation of the Sangha Maha Nayaka
Committee (the State-appointed clergy) in the 1980s, Buddhist
authority attempted to re ll the gaps left by the decline of
Buddhism in the country. Bearing in mind the colonial era
which emasculated Bamar sovereignty and the will to
maintain Buddhism as the cultural anchor to all Burmese, the
presence of the Rohingya in Rakhine State is perceived as a

threat by the rebrand section of the population. Indeed,
monks like U Wirathu have passionately proclaimed that there
is a “‘Muslim conspiracy’ to conquer Burma through economic
exploitation and interfaith marriage.” Similarly, Ashin Sada Ma,
a leading monk of the 969 Movement, fears that “some Bengali
Muslims are terrorists and have a mission to Islamise our
country.” This anxiety is frequently echoed in social media –
where information is indiscriminately absorbed. The
authenticity of these claims are irrelevant in this context, as
they are made by Buddhists of a “respected social status […]
and it is assumed that they have correct information.”
The consequences of these assertions are many. They include
discrimination as well as episodes of inter-communal con ict
in Rakhine State and other parts of the country. It is the faith
in what is perceived as “real” teachings of the Buddha, in
conjunction with the over-reliance on social media, that has
exacerbated inter-communal enmity. Indeed, the effect of
actions happening in reality, once considered through the
prism of social media, undergoes a multiplying factor which
results in greater-scale consequences back in reality. In other
words, anti-Muslim sermons by prominent Buddhist monks can
lead to violence in themselves. When the preaching and
subsequent results of it are virally shared on platforms such as
Facebook, the likelihood of widespread strife is greater –
whether it be in terms of numbers, or geographical locations.
The exponential effect of social networks, acting as ampli ers,
have without a doubt played a role in the spread of this
resentment toward the Rohingya. In Marzuki Darusman’s
words, the chairman of the UN Independent International Fact-

Finding Mission on Myanmar, “it has […] substantively
contributed to the level of acrimony and dissension and
con ict […] within the public” (See also Mr. Darusman’s
statement at the 37th Session of the Human Rights Council).
This Myanmar-Kompromat style of defamation, tending towards
Islamophobia, has also found its roots in the country’s politics.
As de ned by Amanda Taub, Kompromat is not only used in
Russian politics – it is a “broader attempt to manufacture
public cynicism and confusion in ways that target not just one
individual but an entire society.” In Myanmar, analogous ways
apply. This method bene ts those in power who tend to
counter their insecurities with the propagation of false
information and the demonisation of the “other”. Furthermore,
the proliferation of the Buddhist hardline discourse has come
to be widely seen as “institutionalised” by the international
community. Senior General Min Aung Hlaing’s men on the
Bangladeshi border, notably under the now-abolished Nasaka,
have utilised oppressive tactics long before the 2017
crackdown in order to keep tight control over the Rohingya –
most of whom are denied citizenship under the 1982
Citizenship Law and the 2008 military-drafted Constitution.
Further to this, a controversial statute called the “Race and
Religion Protection Laws” was passed by Parliament in 2015
under pressure from nationalist groups like the Ma Ba Tha.
These laws include the Religious Conversion Bill, the Buddhist
Women’s Special Marriage Bill, the Population Control
Healthcare Bill, as well as the Monogamy Bill. This speci c set
of laws has fueled anti-Rohingya rhetoric in practice, as well
as on social media platforms – as seen when U Wirathu

praised these developments as of cial intention “to preserve
the sanctity of marriage, to safeguard from the danger of Jihadi
Muslims who are marrying many women in an effort to
establish a Muslim nation.”
The institutionalisation of this discrimination and social media
campaigns of disinformation, intended or not, have often
“’deliberately blended accurate and forged details’ to sow
distrust and confusion.” Proof of whether these digital efforts
were deliberately used by the military and ultranationalists to
incite the perpetration of crimes against the Rohingya has yet
to be de nite. Nonetheless, on a global scale, it is clear that
“Facebook, Google, and Twitter function as a distribution
mechanism, a platform for circulating false information and
helping nd receptive audiences.” This was largely found to be
the case in Myanmar – and as observed by Kyaw Sint,
Facebook will need to not only adopt mitigating mechanisms
that can (more effectively) curb the spread of hate speech, but
also proactively encourage the spread of tolerance, one way or
another.
Looking ahead
In recent years, the government of Myanmar has undertaken
an unprecedented endeavour towards reform and liberalisation
in order to curb extreme poverty, the derelict state of the
economy and constant ethnic strife – unfortunate
consequences of the hangover of decades of military
dictatorship. Generally speaking, there have been clear and
humble attempts by all sectors of society, some in conjunction

with international cooperation programmes, to promote the
respect of fundamental human rights, suppress the bane of
transnational organised crime and the amelioration of the
judicial system. However, the hardship experienced by the
Rohingya and the continuing state of con ict involving all
armed groups – notwithstanding the NCA – have created
much scepticism. The recent arrest of two Reuters journalists
reporting on crimes against the Rohingya, charged under the
colonial-era Of cial Secrets Act, has also sparked doubt as to
whether the government is being completely transparent and
taking responsibility for its actions.
Another key issue, as I have examined, is the problem posed
by the prominence of social media in all spheres of society.
The far-reaching effect of social platforms, operating in
combination with the spread of hardline Buddhist rhetoric and
the scattering of fake news has exacerbated an already
existing dif cult situation encountered by Myanmar’s ethnic
groups. “Algorithmic enclaves” facilitate the emergence of
tribal nationalism, which takes effect in the digital world but
materializes in nationalist sentiment. Whether it be authentic
or not, quoting Burrett, “the rst version of a story that
appears sets public opinion.” Because of the lack of trust
between different ethnic groups, the de ciency in digital
literacy and the cultural coercion exercised by re-brand
Buddhist groups, the population is trapped into a corner where
the expression of an alternate point of view is subdued.
Nevertheless, social media does not have to be a tool solely
exploited by hardline nationalist movements. It is also used by

peace activists and human rights defenders advocating for
overarching reform and the rehabilitation of the rule of law.
Some of these projects involve Pan Zagar (Flower Speech) and
Team Myanmar (a television and radio show funded by the
European Union), both of which aspire to make use of the
penetrating effect of social media in Myanmar’s social strata.
Matthew and Amy Smith, from Fortify Rights, are stressing the
need to “get it right” and use “all the tools at our disposal” to
put an end to human rights abuses – and this includes lm
and social media. However, information will need to be
processed rigorously and take into account the political
climate surrounding the time of its release. Many challenges
lie ahead for the citizens of Myanmar – and where media is
concerned, rumour management and the cessation of hate
speech are some of the many stones needed to pave the way
home for the displaced Rohingya.
Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of
Nationalism (London: Verso 1983) 49-50.
Ibid, 50.
Ibid, 51.
Ibid.
[5] See Noelle-Neumann’s sociological study the “Spiral of Silence”.
François-Guillaume Jaeck is currently completing his MA in
Con ict, Security and Development at King’s College London,
focusing on Nationalism and Insurgency. Prior to this, he read a
BA in Burmese and Law at SOAS and interned with the European
External Action Service in Yangon.
[1]
[2]
[3]
[4]

6/25/2018 Reporting the Retreat: War Correspondents in Burma by Philip Woods, London, Hurst & Co., 2016, 206 Pages, ISBN: 9781849047173 – …
https://teacircleoxford.com/2018/06/11/reporting-the-retreat-war-correspondents-in-burma-by-philip-woods-london-hurst-co-2016-206-pages-isbn-978… 1/11
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
Reporting
the Retreat: War Correspondents
in Burma by Philip Woods, London,
Hurst & Co., 2016, 206 Pages,
ISBN: 9781849047173
Giulia Garbagni reviews a nuanced account of the challenges and
contradictions of wartime journalism.
Even though Burma was a crucial theater of the Second World
War, the unfolding of the con ict in the country has earned the
moniker the ‘forgotten war’— overshadowed at the time by
more pressing concerns of the British Empire, and later by
historians, who have long treated Burma as a mere appendage
of India. It comes as no surprise, therefore, that many
important details of the war in Burma have been neglected in
mainstream historiography. One of them is certainly the
history of the war correspondents that were dispatched to
Burma to report the con ict.

This is why Philip Woods’ Reporting the Retreat: War
Correspondents in Burma comes as a welcome addition to the
growing military historiography of Southeast Asia. The book
tracks the personal experiences of two dozen Western
correspondents, British, American, Australian and South
African, who arrived in Yangon in the early months of 1942, a
few weeks before the Japanese invasion. Not long after their
arrival in Burma, they witnessed the retreat of the Allied forces
from the country— in what has been described as one of the
most chaotic and humiliating military operations of the war in
Asia.
Reporting the Retreat does not aim merely to provide a general
overview of media reporting during the war. Instead, it takes a
particularistic approach to the topic by looking at the
individual experiences of these reporters, dedicating each
chapter to the common experiences and challenges that they
faced in war-time Burma. Interestingly, Woods also adds a
further layer of analysis, contrasting and comparing the
memoirs and books that the reporters published after the war
with their wartime reporting. The thematic arrangement of the
books allows Woods to draw poignant portraits of the
individual reporters and of the conditions in which they had to
work.
Among the most memorable characters presented in the book
is Leland Stowe, correspondent for the Chicago Daily News, a
Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist who had previously reported
from Nazi Germany. His erce critique of the mismanagement
of the Burma Road— the route connecting Lashio in

Northeastern Burma to Kunming, China, which served as the
main supply channel from the Allies to the nationalist forces
led by Chiang Kai Shek— stands out as one of the few
uncensored pieces coming out of Burma at the time, which
ended up having a tangible impact on the management policy
of the route.
However, Stowe’s experience was remarkably atypical in a
context where reporters faced multiple hurdles in producing
thoroughly researched and impartial reporting. The severe
control of the colonial authorities represented the biggest
obstacle to the work of the correspondents, even though self-
censorship also justi ed the reporters’ reluctance in covering
any story that could undermine the Allied war effort. Exploring
the censorship of the reporters’ work, however, leads Woods
down some fascinating byways. For example, as no journalist
was able to report the British attempt to recover the town of
Shwegyin, on 11 March 1942, a few hours later, the Army
willingly reenacted the battle for the sake of propaganda. This
allowed George Rodger, photojournalist for Life magazine, and
Alec Tozer, newsreel cameraman for British Movietone News,
to photograph and lm one of the rare British victories in
Burma. As Woods notes, the fact that the army wasted time
and resources staging a battle is not only indicative of how
journalistic reports were deemed a crucial part of the war
effort, but also truly startling, considering that Yangon had
already been occupied by the Japanese troops days earlier, on
7 March.

The fall of Yangon was the most dramatic moment of the war
in Burma, and the rst-hand accounts of the journalists provide
invaluable testimony to its tragic consequences for the civilian
population. As the reporters were forced to ee Yangon, either
via sea or via land through northwestern Burma, they found
themselves joining the large waves of refugees that were
escaping the Japanese occupation towards India.
While the reporters had little to no knowledge of either
Burmese society or of the British colonial administration prior
to being dispatched there, it was the direct experience of the
retreat that provided them with unprecedented insights into
Burmese society, as well as the local attitudes towards the
colonial administration and its most tangible demographic
byproduct – the large Indian community of Yangon. While
their story often goes unnoticed in mainstream historiography,
Indians made up almost the entirety of all the evacuees who
left Burma in 1942, and their departure dramatically changed
the socio-economic landscape of the then-capital. Alec Tozer
and George Rodger were appalled by the treatment reserved
for the Indian refugees, who were regularly harassed by the
Burmese. Tozer even held a Burmese policeman at gunpoint in
order to allow a group of refugees to continue their journey.
Crucially, the experience of the retreat was fundamental in
shaping the reporters’ unanimous critical assessment of
Burma’s Governor, Sir Reginald Dorman Smith. Indeed, they did
not spare criticism for his handling of the civilian evacuation
of Yangon, which was planned inadequately and executed
chaotically. Woods is particularly keen on offering the reader a

more sympathetic view of the Governor, dedicating the
entirety of Chapter 2 to his defense. Personally, I doubt that
Woods will succeed in persuading readers that Dorman Smith’s
enthusiasm for ‘tutelary democracy’ was born of genuine
respect for the Burmese colonial of cers, rather than from self-
serving colonial paternalism. Rather, Woods’ analysis of the
reporters’ negative bias against Dorman Smith runs the risk of
being perceived as an attempt at sanitizing the Governor’s
legacy, without adding real value to the purpose of the book.
Nonetheless, Woods’ book is remarkable as it capably
intertwines the individual perspectives of talented reporters,
using their personal experiences of the war to offer a fresh
portrayal of events that have been long neglected in the
historiography of World War II in Asia. However, after reading
Reporting the Retreat, one is left to sympathize with the
traditional skepticism of mainstream historians, who have
conventionally treated journalistic accounts of the war with
caution. Indeed, Woods’ meticulous descriptions of the
censorship apparatus, paired with the very limited exposure
that the reporters had to actual military operations and their
lack of Burma-speci c knowledge, unwittingly reinforce this
reluctance.
While the book will perhaps not provide the de nitive
evidence that journalistic accounts deserve to be treated as
equally valuable tools as of cial diplomatic and military
sources, it certainly provides an enhanced awareness of the
war reporters’ modus operandi – and of their limits. After all,

this might be the key for appreciating their usefulness to
mainstream war historiography as ‘the rst draft of history’.
Giulia Garbagni (garbagni.giulia@gmail.com) is a recent graduate
from the MSc in Modern Japanese Studies (Distinction) at the
University of Oxford, St. Antony’s College. Her research mainly
focuses on Japanese foreign and aid policy towards Southeast
Asia, in particular Myanmar.
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6/25/2018 Myanmar’s violent road to ‘peace’ – Tea Circle
https://teacircleoxford.com/2018/06/07/myanmars-violent-road-to-peace/ 1/33
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
Myanmar’s violent road to ‘peace’
Angshuman Choudhury analyses the recent bouts of rebel-
military violence in Myanmar and assesses their implications for
the peace process ahead.
On 21 May 2018, the Myanmar government announced that
the third edition of the 21 Century Panglong Conference (also
known as the Union Peace Conference) will be held in mid-
June instead of end of May as announced earlier. This is the
fourth time Naypyitaw has pushed the dates of the conference
– supposed to be organised on a biennial basis – since it was
last held in May 2017.
Despite a urry of activity in the talk rooms of Naypyitaw and
Chiang Mai, the stage for peace is largely set by violence
rather than an atmosphere of dialogue. In fact, the period
between January-May this year has so far been the most
violent quarter in years with more than two dozen overt
instances of violence and close to 20,000 new Internally
Displaced Persons (IDPs) reported across the country. May
was particularly violent with multiple clashes reported
st
[1]

between the Tatmadaw and the non-cease re northern groups
in Shan and Kachin States almost every single day.
While one could argue that violence and instability were
common precursors to all previous editions of the 21CPC, the
degree and spread of the ghting is particularly stark this time
as evinced by the high displacement gures and longer
standoffs with both cease re and non- cease re ethnic groups.
As outlined in the subsequent sections, the overall escalation
in violence is rooted in the Tatmadaw’s belligerent approach to
reconciliation and disregard for cease re norms agreed upon
by core negotiating parties within the ambit of the Nationwide
Cease re Agreement (NCA). This is in addition to the union
government’s apathy towards civilians in con ict zones, which
is visibly spurring greater alienation amongst the frontier
populations.
All of this is bound to have serious implications on the NCA
regime by reducing capacities for long-term dialogue with
cease re groups and possibilities for short-term reconciliation
with non-cease re ones. Unless the government established
stronger monitoring systems on the ground and
disincentivesthe military from acting offensively against ethnic
parties, openings for peace will shut soon.
More ghts, less talks
The rst ve months of 2018 have seen intense ghting erupt
in almost all corners of the country. Many of these regions,
albeit habitual con ict zones in a broader timeline, had been

relatively calm since the rst batch of eight Ethnic Armed
Organisations (EAOs) signed the Nationwide Cease re
Agreement (NCA) in October 2015. But, this delicate status quo
seems to be giving away to a new reality of multi-pronged
battles.
Since January this year, there have been 17 distinct
instances of armed confrontations and violent offensives,
excluding instances in Northern Rakhine State. If individual
clashes within a broader con ict cycle are to be counted, as
the Myanmar Peace Monitor (MPC) does, then one ends up
with an aggregate of 54 incidents of violence/ ghting between
January-April (MPC hasn’t yet compiled the data for May). The
number continues to rise as we move into June.
Compare this to only 8 visible instances of peacemaking,
dialogue or reconciliation that took place during the January-
May period.
All the armed confrontations and instances of violence during
the rst quarter of 2018 (excluding in Northern Rakhine State)
can be broadly classi ed into three groups: the long war
between the Tatmadaw and the Kachin Independence Army
(KIA) in the north, the short wars between EAOs (except KIA)
and between the Tatmadaw and EAOs (except KIA), and
tertiary instances of attacks on soft targets.
The long war in the north
[2]
[3]

Of all micro con ict cycles, the raging battle between the
Tatmadaw and the Kachin Independence Army (KIA) in the
country’s north has triggered particularly high levels of
displacement amongst local civilians and insecurity amongst
stakeholders. The war, in its current form, began in early 2015
and continued through 2016 and 2017 in various phases.
The KIA is still part of the Northern Alliance (NA) and the
Federal Political Negotiation and Consultative Committee
(FPNCC), and refuses to sign the NCA. As a heavily armed
group with high constituent power amongst its ethnic
population and control over critical natural resources (like gold
and amber ores), the KIA remains the Tatmadaw’s prime target
for now.
Losses for KIA
The military began its signature ground-and-air winter
offensive against the KIA in and around the Kachin town of
Tanai in early January, and followed it up with another larger
offensive in early March. Contrary to popular expectations, the
offensive continued into spring and escalated further when
KIA’s Laiza headquarters came under attack on 11 April from
both ground and air forces of the military, and then again the
group’s Battalion 6 of Brigade 2 in mid May.
The relentless offensives have caused signi cant damage to
KIA’s territorial hold, infrastructure, supply lines, human
resources, and in turn, strike capacity. In this, the military with
its airpower, enjoys a clear tactical advantage over the KIA.

The Tatmadaw’s heavy offensives over the past two con ict
cycles have compelled the KIA to abandon some of its key
strategic outposts and pull back from previously-held
frontlines. This began with the group losing its critical hold
over Gidon Hill in December 2016, and now its bases in
Tanai and southern Kachin in the March-April 2018 period. The
few bases under KIA control in Tanai, surrounded by gold and
amber mines, were particularly targeted by the military in the
current cycle as part of its renewed attempt to stake claim
over high-value resources under the rebel group’s control.
Unsurprisingly, the KIA has often termed these pullbacks
as strategic retreats meant for rearming and regrouping, rather
than losses.
The Tatmadaw’s choice of Tanai as the central target of its
winter offensive and the high number of IDPs trapped in the
battle-zone re ect the infamous ‘Four Cuts[1]’ doctrine that
the military relies on in high-intensity rebel zones to choke
the insurgents’ supply lines and networks of support. Burma
analyst, Stella Naw, brought to notice last year the military’s
usage of this ruthless strategy in Tanai where the army had
been blocking “transport of rice and gas into the township
since mid-2016.” This year too, the army blocked off approach
routes in to the town during the rst phase of the offensive,
trapping more than 3,000 civilians in the con ict zone and
draining rebel outposts of critical resources.
Notably, the surge in ghting comes right after the KIA
appointed a new Chairman, General N Ban La, in early January.
General Ban La initially appeared to be tilted towards greater

dialogue than armed resistance; but the trajectory following
his appointment has been otherwise. Not to mention the fact
that the KIA and the Tatmadaw met in China’s Yunnan Province
for military-to-military level talks in early February. While this
didn’t serve any real purpose to quell the violence, it is a clear
indication of the fact that the KIA leadership (for whatever
reasons) considers the military, and not the civilian
government, the only legitimate point of dialogue.
The Consequences: Displacement and dissent
The military’s ruthless ground-and-air campaign, marked by
use of Russian-supplied Mi-35 helicopters and heavy artillery,
has caused widespread damage to civilian lives and property
and triggered massive internal displacement. Even the KIA’s
attempts to cut population centres from Tatmadaw’s approach
routes has contributed to the steady emergence of a worrying
humanitarian crisis.
So far, the ghting has displaced more than 15,000 civilians in
a span of four months and more than 6,800in April itself, with
fatality numbers still unknown due to limited access for
independent observers, journalists, and humanitarian services.
The settlements in and around Tanai have been particularly
affected, with thousands of locals (including women and
children) trapped in forests with no access to basic services.
Locals in Injangyang, Tanai and Hpakant townships have also
been severely affected.

Notably, the military stands widely accused of deliberately
causing a situation of internal displacement and forcing the
Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) to either remain holed up
in dangerous conditions or return to their homes in active
con ict zones.
Civil society in Kachin State and elsewhere has responded
quickly and af rmatively to the worrying developments. On 30
April, thousands gathered in the streets of the Kachin capital,
Myitkyina, to register their dissent against the military and
union government for not doing enough to stop the violence
and rescue the civilian trapped in remote areas. Similar
demonstrations were organised in Yangon and Mandalay on 6
May, following which local police arrested two protesters and
sued the organisers.
Notably, on 23 April, 32 Kachin associations in Myanmar and
elsewhere issued a letter urging the UN to refer Myanmar to
the International Criminal Court (ICC) for the military’s violence
against civilians in the north. This is a rare escalation in the
civil society narrative against the day’s government, and
re ects the frustration, anger, and weariness of the local
population.
There seems to be a clear wave of dissatisfaction in Kachin
State with the current dispensation in Naypyitaw that relies on
mixed political signals and a passive policy towards frontier
communities trapped in con ict zones. If left unaddressed,
such popular grievances, besides strengthening the KIA
further, could directly result in a further widening of the trust

de cit between the union government and the Kachin peace
bloc. Moreover, a heavy handed response by the state –
like arresting peaceful protesters– could directly lead to
greater civil support for the KIA and further reduce capacities
for reconciliation.
Is there a way ahead?
Given the heightened level of violence at the moment, even a
piecemeal cease re arrangement between the KIA and the
Tatmadaw could temporarily but effectively stop the loss of
civilian lives and property. However, this would require full
compliance of the Tatmadaw to the cessation of hostilities and
the cease re monitoring regime. So far, it has an unenviable
compliance record as far as the NCA is concerned. Hence, a
broader settlement with the KIA could take years, and would
demand greater investment from a range of actors – including
Kachin civil society, independent mediators, the union
government, and of course, China.
More importantly, the union government needs to show
greater proactivity in engaging with the Kachin population,
especially the civil society. In the absence of clear incentives
to support peace through due process, the community is
bound to regress into alternative means of grievance redressal.
For example, the total apathy that the civilian government has
shown towards trapped Kachin civilians in the ongoing war
could damage prospects for peace even in the longer term by
pushing the entire population further into the KIA’s fold.

Notably, earlier in May, the local Kachin community leaders
showed exemplary humanitarianism by rescuing hundreds of
villagers trapped in forests due to the ghting. This is
something that the state government, in collaboration with
Naypyitaw, should ideally have done. The blatant inaction is
bound to leave a stain in the collective memory of the Kachin
community. When it comes to an insurgent bloc negotiating
with a larger entity, collective memory can decisively shape
the outcomes of dialogues.
The union and state government must immediately engage
with Kachin civil society organisations like the Kachin Peace
Network (KPN), Kachin Baptist Convention (KBC), and the
Kachin Women’s Association Thailand (KWA) to ensure
smoother and consistent communication between the key
stakeholders. These local organisations, owing to their deep
understanding of Kachin society and trust-based relationships
with civilian blocs, can be effective conduits for dialogue and
aid delivery.
The short wars
Besides the bigger battle in Kachin State, there have been
several other violent escalations in Shan State, Rakhine State,
Kayin/Karen State, and Tanintharyi Region since 2018 began.
Beginning January, ve distinct instances of inter-EAO clashes
(excluding KIA) , two instances of low-grade clashes between
the Tatmadaw and EAOs (excluding KIA) , three incidents of
rebel attacks in civilian areas , and one incident of a non-
[4]
[5]
[6]

combatant civilian directly killed by the Tatmadaw have been
reported .
Evidently, the con ict in these geographical areas has
diversi ed in scope and scale since the NCA was rst signed in
October 2015 – in terms of geographical spread, active
participants, and contesting interests. Save for the northern
groups, most other armed ethnic actors had been relatively
disengaged since the current peace process began in 2016.
However, the recent bouts indicate a steady regression into the
bush wars of the days past, characterised by low-grade, evenly
spread-out insurgencies.
The Karen standoff
While most of the short wars erupted due to overlapping
territorial blocs or one-off skirmishes over unwarranted troop
incursions, the KNU’s recent confrontation with the military
has a peculiar tenor to it.
The KNU/KNLA – one of the most powerful NCA signatory
groups – clashed with the Tatmadaw in Kayin (or Karen)
State’s Mutraw (Hpapun) district between 4-8 March, besides
also clashing with the New Mon State Party (NMSP)/Mon
National Liberation Army (MNLA) in the Tanintharyi Region
during the same period. More than 2400 civilianshad been
displaced due to the clashes as of 6 April 2018.
The KNLA had accused the Tatmadaw of barging into their
territory in Mutraw on 4 March without taking permission
[7]

(which is a mandatory pre-condition under the NCA) and
initiating construction of a road. The situation took a deviant
turn in April when the militaryshotan unarmed Karen
community worker dead, triggering massive outrage in the
state and amongst the regional humanitarian community.
The military’s adventurism in Kayin State, however, isn’t a new
phenomenon. A closer look at the past two years reveals that
the military never really took the NCA seriously when it came
to dealing with the Karens.
Despite the KNU signing a bilateral cease re agreement in
2012 and then the NCA in 2015, Kayin State has witnessed a
steady military buildup over the past two years in the form of
greater Tatmadaw troop presence, denser military
infrastructure, and a road that the military had been laying in
Mutraw. The KNU leadership has described this contentious
road, which cuts through the group’s key territory and local
farmlands, as a “tactical military road” that attempts to
upgrade the Tatmadaw’s overall presence in the state.
In April 2018, the Karen Peace Support Network (KPSN)
released a damning report, which asserted that the Tatmadaw
has been “taking advantage of the cease re to […] expand and
upgrade its military infrastructure and capability to seize and
control indigenous Karen people’s lands.” KPSN claims that its
“ ndings show that the Burma Army has repeatedly breached
the terms of the 2012 and 2015 cease re agreements in
Mutraw District.”
[8]

Furthermore, in a recent interview with the Karen Information
Centre, KNLA’s Vice Chief of Staff Lt-Gen Saw Baw Kyaw Heh
stated that the recent offensives were merely the Tatmadaw’s
way to test the waters for a bigger one. He also hinted towards
the prospect of a continued armed struggle in the face of
failed negotiations. What more, a 2017 study on the KNU
concluded that the group “was facing an ‘inevitable’ return to
open con ict against the Myanmar Armed Forces” if the union
government continues to dismiss the need for further reforms.
These developments have spurred fresh anxieties within the
Karen bloc. Local political leaders and civil society have begun
to question the cease re’s credibility and the government’s
agenda. Add to this the growing popular discontent against
the regime in Naypyitaw for not granting full political reforms.
The Tatmadaw’s continued refusal to openly communicate
with the KNU further aggravates the sense of alienation and
confusion.
But, fortunately, the situation de-escalated around mid-May as
both parties began to talk to each other, and nally on 17 May,
the Tatmadaw agreed to postponed road-building activities in
Mutraw. In light of the latest agreement, the union and state
governments must ensure that both parties strictly adhere to
the agreed principles of cease res and territorial movements,
particularly given the acute lack of mutual con dence.
What we’re looking at in Kayin State is a dif cult and
precarious situation. There is little doubt that the Tatmadaw
actively contributed to the escalation by crossing cease re

lines in violation of the NCA while also dismissing repeated
requests by the KNU to hold talks. Hence, without proactive
concessions and strategic revisions from the military, including
a partial or total withdrawal of forces from KNU territory, there
is little possibility of reconciliation. But, simply respecting
cease re lines won’t be enough as the larger discontent
regarding lack of political reforms and justice can only be
addressed if the union government expresses a will to
renegotiate the terms of the NCA within legitimate, mutually-
agreed boundaries. A postponement on this agenda could lead
to similar standoffs in the future.
A damaged government-signatory relationship, that too
involving an in uential ethnic bloc, could prove to be the
ultimate death knell on the NCA. After all, what real incentive
does any non-signatory have in changing their position on the
agreement when the military itself continues to out its
provisions openly? Thus, the union government must invest
more in patching the Karen situation up before its ripple
effects consume the peace process.
A new western battlefront
Since November 2017, Chin State has been on the edge with
the Tatmadaw clashing with the Arakan Army (AA) on two
major instances . The escalation has killed more than two
dozen people (including civilians, Tatmadaw troops, and AA
rebels) and displaced more than a thousand civilians across
the border into India’s Mizoram state. Unlike in most other
[9]

military-rebel clashes in the recent past, the Tatmadaw
appears to have suffered heavy casualties here in Chin.
The AA is a relatively new ethnic Rakhine group that is
currently in tactical collusion with larger northern groups like
the KIA , but mostly operates in Rakhine and Chin States. As
a non-signatory to the NCA, it remains a part of NA and
FPNCC: a suf cient precondition, in some sense, to come into
the Tatmadaw’s crosshairs.
The western battlefront is particularly critical because the core
con ict zone here falls along Myanmar’s highly strategic
borders with both India and Bangladesh. While the fallout of
the violence here has already spilled over to the neighbouring
Indian state of Mizoram, major instances of ghting have taken
place in and around Paletwa– a nodal point for the Kaladan
Multi-Modal Transit Transport Project (KMTTP), which is India’s
pet connectivity project for its northeastern frontiers aiming to
link up Bangladesh, Myanmar, and India through overland and
water routes.
The looming threat of violent clashes, thus, is a major
deterrent to such developmental projects, which also hold
signi cant geo-economic value for Naypyitaw. Given that the
AA remains de ant of its af liations with hostile northern
groups and that the military would certainly respond to the
damage in icted on itself, propensities for further violence
remain high in the region.
The Arakan x
[10]

The Tatmadaw-AA confrontation has a complex and rather
foreboding political context to it.
Since October 2016 when local Rohingya militants staged
attacks on security outposts in the north of the state, Rakhine
State has witnessed a rapid escalation in violence and
instability. The events that followed, including the larger
Rohingya insurgent attack on 25 August 2017, the massive
refugee out ux into Bangladesh, and the subsequent
international outrage against the Myanmar army’s use of
excessive force against Rohingya civilians, resulted in
increasing polarisation and a general sense of unease across
the state. The situation compounded on 16 January 2018 when
the state police opened re on unarmed protesters in the
historic Rakhine town of Mrauk U, killing seven civilians.
Thereafter, several other demonstrators, including two
prominent Rakhine leaders, were arrested.
The killings triggered a massive outrage in the state with local
sentiments reaching a fever pitch in opposition to what ethnic
Rakhine see as an apathetic and discriminatory Bamar-
dominated union government. The situation took a further hit
when a senior local administrator who had a role in ordering
the heavy-handed police action was found stabbed to death in
his car on the Sittwe-Yangon highway two weeks later. Again,
almost four weeks hence, a low-grade, still unclaimed triple
bomb blast rocked Sittwe.
With little to no medium for open negotiation with the union
government, the local tide may steadily shift towards greater

support for armed struggle. It is already an open secret that
several Rakhine politicians back the AA. In fact, Dr Aye Maung,
former chairman of the Arakan National Party (ANP) who was
arrested after the Mrauk U demonstrations, was quoted by the
Ministry of Information as saying that it “is the right time for
[ethnic Rakhines] to take up armed struggle to regain
[Rakhine’s] independence” and that the “Arakan Army, led by
Twan Mrat Naing, is undertaking an armed struggle to regain
Rakhine State and its sovereignty and to free [ethnic Rakhines]
from Burmese servitude.”
For the union government, the only legitimate negotiating
party in Rakhine State is the Arakan Liberation Party (ALP),
which has signed the NCA. But, that does not automatically
render the AA irrelevant in the eyes of Rakhine’s own political
and civil actors, case-in-point Dr Maung’s open support for the
group. In fact, a head-on battle for legitimacy between the AA
and the ALP is inevitable in the days to come. On the other
hand, even the ALP, despite being an NCA signatory, is growing
increasingly bitter, thanks to Naypyitaw’s repeated rejection of
proposals for a national-level dialogue in Rakhine.
Notably, the union government is poised to repatriate some of
the Rohingya displaced after the 25 August 2017 violence – a
step that is bound to sharpen local sentiments in Rakhine and
only fester more bitterness against Naypyitaw. Paul Keenan,
the author of a report released last year by the Euro Burma
Of ce (EBO) said the following in an interview with The
Irrawaddy:“The situation in Rakhine State, I think, it is going to
get worse next year [2018], but not because of [Arakan

Rohingya Salvation Army], primarily probably because of the
Arakan Army […] Arakan Army for me will be the ashpoint for
the peace process next year, because they don’t seem to have
legitimacy.”
The union government must realise sooner that the standard
template for dialogue wherein the Peace Commission engages
with a largely homogeneous ethnic bloc might not work in
Rakhine. Recent developments have shown that Naypyitaw is
staring at more than one disenfranchised parties in the state
within a single ethnic bloc: ALP, ANP, and unaf liated ethnic
Rakhines. Without multi-pronged, context-speci c engagement
with all actors (including local civil society), Naypyitaw is
doomed to face a bigger, more powerful and popular AA.
Combined with the unrest in Northern Rakhine, an open
con ict with the group could drag Rakhine into a state of total
lawlessness and wholly negate the NCA’s limited gains.
Back to bush wars?
Besides the KNU and the AA, four other EAOs have trained
their guns on each other in the past few months: Restoration
Council of Shan State (RCSS)/Shan State Army-South (SSA-S),
National Mon State Party (NMSP)/Mon National Liberation
Army (MNLA), Ta’ang National Liberation Army (TNLA), and
Shan State Progressive Party (SSPP)/Shan State Army-North
(SSA-N). Most of these low-grade confrontations have taken
place over unclear territorial blocs and sudden troop
incursions into each other’s territories.

Intriguingly, three of the ve EAOs which have engaged in
inter-group clashes are NCA signatories – KNU, RCSS, and
NMSP. Strangely even, non-signatories TNLA and SSA-N –
which recently engaged inheavy clashesin Shan State’s Namtu
township – are both members of the NA and FPNCC, and have
conducted joint operations in the past. Furthermore, all the
warring EAOs were once members of the ethnic coalition, the
United Nationalities Federal Council (UNFC).
The above re ect three things: the waning credibility of the
NCA, the inef ciencies of the cease re monitoring regime, and
the precariousness of ethnic alliances in Myanmar.
These low-grade bush wars haven’t caused signi cant damage
to life and property. But, they are hugely detrimental to the
overall environment of peace and dialogue. While
confrontations between non-cease re groups remain beyond
the direct mandate of the union government, the skirmishes
between the cease re groups y in the face of the NCA’s core
intent of maintaining a peaceful status quo and in fact,
validate the apprehensions of the anti-NCA bloc who argue
that it is an ineffective instrument of dialogue. More
importantly, the frequent violence serves well to preserve the
traditional ssures between various EAOs, thus preserving
openings for bigger con icts in the future.
Furthermore, these skirmishes reveal that ethnic coalitions
cannot be taken at face value. Over the past two years, we
have seen existing alliances dissolve rapidly and new ones
form out of thin air. As with most other con ict paradigms

involving a multiplicity of actors, in Myanmar too, political
groupings (like UNFC) have sustained for longer periods than
tactical ones (like TNLA-RCSS joint brigades). Those that are a
mix of both – for example the FPNCC led by the United Wa
State Party (UWSA) – carry even better prospects of survival
given their well-rounded nature and higher bargaining power.
Insurgency to terrorism?
Since January 2018, at least three major attacks have targeted
civilians or lateral civilian targets – the 21 February Lashio
bomb blast, the 24 February Sittwe blast, and the 12 May
attack by TNLA in Muse, northern Shan State. The rst two
attacks have gone unclaimed.
EAOs in Myanmar do not have a history of categorically
targeting civilians within the broader insurgent agenda, with
infrequent exceptions mostly in the north. Very few rebel
groups have dared to drag the jungle wars into urban centres
to gain tactical advantage. The last major rebel attack on
civilians took place on 5 March 2017 in Laukkai, Shan State
when the ethnic Kokang Myanmar National Democratic
Alliance Army (MNDAA) mountedan assaulton security
outposts, hotels, and casinos, killing 30 people.
The recent attacks show that insurgent EAOs are willing to
take the terror path for three identi able reasons: target
critical civilian or quasi-civilian (militia) assets of the
Tatmadaw and af liates of rival groups; bridge the asymmetry
in the con ict, not unlike Hamas’ use of suicide bombing in

the face of Israeli weapons; and dramatically raise the costs of
Tatmadaw’s perennial against EAOs. Greater the number of
attacks on civilians, higher the public pressure on the military
to stop the ghting.
For the government, dealing with jungle wars would be easier
than urban attacks, which tend to be more discrete, non-
uniform, and errant. For the military, a war with bare minimum
of rules of engagement is strategically more viable than one
without any rules whatsoever. Hence, from a neutral
standpoint, rebel offensives against soft targets can be
effective in eroding the government’s legitimacy further (given
it fails to secure civilian lives) and in the longer term, tilt the
balance of force in favour of the hostile EAOs.
However, under current conditions, one can expect only the
hostile northern groups like TNLA and MNDAA to attack non-
combatant targets to increase their bargaining power and
protect their illicit interests along the border areas. In
addition, although the Sittwe blast has gone unclaimed, the
AA too might engage in a few attacks on non-military (not
‘civilian’ ) targets in the coming months to level the playing
eld.
Need for better cease re monitoring
In order to keep a check on the frequent territorial standoffs
between NCA signatories, the government needs to urgently
strengthen the cease re regime and make it more responsive
to individual complaints (both verbal and written). This not
[11]

only entails crunching the response time between receipt of
the complaint and redressal of it, but also chalking neat
cease re lines, especially in areas where EAO blocs overlap
explicitly. This is a dif cult endeavour and would require close
participation of all signatory EAOs, veri cation teams, and civil
society groups in the proceedings and working of the Joint
Monitoring Committee (JMC), which is one of the most decisive
nodal points in the entire peace machinery.
The JMC, which is trifurcated into union, state, and local levels,
is already designed to deal with multiple levels of complaints.
However, the actual monitoring remains lax due to the
structural distance between events on the ground and the
monitoring machinery. This critical gap needs to be bridged. It
is imprudent to expect the JMC-Union (JMC-U) to micromanage
cease re monitoring, especially in remote hinterlands. Thus,
the state governments need to set up more local-level JMCs
(JMC-L) and Local Civilian Monitoring (LCM) teams under the
state governments in order to ensure a more disaggregated
and devolved monitoring regime.
Some of these suggestions were already made in the most
recent meeting of the committee. Whether similar suggestions
were made in earlier sessions and how much follow-up work
was done remain unclear. Further, there is a lack of
transparency within the government’s monitoring bureaucracy.
As Yangon-based Burma analyst, David Scott Mathieson
has pointed out recently, the government failed to publicly
announce the reason behind the latest round of unresolved
cease re violation complaints. Such opaqueness is bound to

sharpen the lack of popular con dence in the government’s
ability to manage a delicate status quo.
While the close participation of Tatmadaw and EAO
representatives is imperative, the government needs to bring
in more neutral civilians (in addition to the existing ones) who
can implement the monitoring regime in a completely
impartial manner. The state administrations should encourage
closer participation of local-level ethnic mediation,
reconciliation, and humanitarian groups, examples being the
Kachin Peace Network (KPN), Karen Peace Support Network
(KPSN), and Shan Women’s Action Network (SWAN). Several of
these groups are already part of the monitoring regime, but
they need to be given greater agency in decision-making,
planning, and reporting.
The government must also encourage regular local-level
meetings between disputing parties and the veri cation teams.
This would reduce the overall response time and thus, reduce
the possibility of low-level skirmishes blowing up into full-
edged confrontations. The JMC-Ls should also conduct trust-
building exercises from time to time, preferably at the
community level, which would not only involve core EAO
representatives but also civilian members from their
respective ethnic blocs. The idea here is to amplify common
interests and connectors between traditionally hostile groups
and thus, bring the ethnic blocs closer to a peaceful, co-
habitable status quo.

Notwithstanding the above, skirmishes involving non-
signatory EAOs are tougher to deal with since they do not
fall within the JMC’s ambit. Thus, the government needs to
diversify its approach in this case and institute ad-hoc
mechanisms for informal talks with warring parties. While the
government is already doing so for signatories, it needs to
engage with non-signatories along a similar format. These
could either be direct talks with trustworthy government
representatives or those that are led by local non-
governmental support groups. When it comes to hostile groups
like the TNLA and SSA-N, the former option risks triggering
greater instability as trust de cit between the state and non-
signatories remains unusually high.
Can broken cease res lead to peace? A new scholarship
perspective
Myanmar is a classic scenario of cease res emerging and
failing on multiple counts, sometimes in cyclical phases. At the
outset, this appears to be detrimental to peace. But, some
fresh scholarship from this decade argues otherwise.
According J Michael Quinn and Madhav Joshi, political
scientists at Notre Dame university who have studied 196
cease res and peace deals from 1975 to 2011, failed
agreements are ultimately good for peace. A September 2016
New York Times report comprehensively sheds light on this
domain. It it, Joshi argues that “failures pave the way for better
agreements down the road.”
[12]

The core of this new line of argument is that in a multi-
party con ict scenario, repeated drafting of agreements and
deals permits stakeholders to incrementally enhance the
incentives for reconciliation by revealing gains and losses at a
micro level. Even if these agreements fail recurrently, the trial-
and-error approach creates a durable space for continuous
engagement and cost-bene t analysis for con ict actors.
The above approach is aptly summarised in a May 2013
Foreign Affairs article by Quinn and Joshi where they say: “As
soon as one party reciprocates, a peace process is underway.
And with each successful round, just enough trust and good
will may be generated to move on to the next item.”
What does this mean for Myanmar? At the base level, it could
imply that the unenviable pace of the peace process is not
only normal but also productive for the greater good of
complete reconciliation. Since the NCA was rst signed in
2015, various intermediate agreements have been drafted with
both signatories and non-signatories. A large part of these
discussions have centred around Burma’s contested federal
future, autonomy for individual ethnic blocs, and
disengagement from armed con ict. But, very few of them
have actually succeeded in achieving tangible objectives, for
example the successful negotiations with the NMSP and Lahu
Democratic Union (LDU) .
Despite the fragility of these intermediate, micro-level
agreements (or draft agreements), the yearlong process of
negotiation have yielded several points of agreement and
[13]
[14]

disagreement amongst the negotiating parties. These have
given all actors yardsticks to assess their own standing in the
dialogue process as against their larger political aspirations.
Thus, the precise trajectories of agreements do not matter as
much as the back-and-forth hashing out of incentives and
disincentives. Hence, Myanmar might as well climb towards
durable peace in a step-by-step fashion rather than taking a
giant, reckless leap towards a transient calm.
At the same time, it is crucial for the government to keep treat
all cease re violations on an equal footing, rather than with
political bias. In a situation otherwise, the dialogue process
will remain fractured. In this context, University of Richmond
professor Stephen B. Long argues that “everyone learns he is
better off complying if cease- re violations are consistently
punished with some form of retaliation — strong enough to
hurt, but not to escalate.”
These, however, are all theoretical understandings and have
their own limits on the ground. In Myanmar, the presence of
certain overbearing parties (and interests) may put a rider to
the “broken cease res are good” hypothesis. This includes the
Tatmadaw, which continues to play spoiler in the dialogue
process, and China, which continues to exercise
disproportionate leverage over non-cease re groups in
Myanmar’s north. Given the asymmetric concentration of
power in both parties in context, a patterned prognosis may
not be the best idea as both parties are capable of changing
the course of the dialogue process through abrupt
interventions.
[1]

According to the Myanmar Peace Monitor monthly
database:http://www.mmpeacemonitor.org/research/monitoring-archive
Author’s own research and database compilation
Here, ‘broader conflict cycle’ denotes a confrontation that lasts for more than two
months and is characterised by heightened violence and recurrent military-to-military
clashes. Example: The ongoing war between the Tatmadaw and the Kachin Independence
Army (KIA) in the north.
The Karen National Union (KNU)/Karen National Liberation Army (KNLA) clashed with
the Democratic Karen Benevolent Army (DKBA) on 8 January 2018 in northern Shan State,
and with New Mon State Party (NMSP)/Mon National Liberation Army (MNLA) on 5 March
2018 in Tanintharyi Region’s Yebyu township. Further, the Restoration Council of Shan
State (RCSS)/Shan State Army-South (SSA-S) engaged with the Ta’ang National Liberation
Army (TNLA) on two occasions in Namkham and Namtu townships, northern Shan State in
March and April. Also, the TNLA clashed with the Shan State Progressive Party (SSPP)/Shan
State Army-North (SSA-N) beginning 4 May 2018 in Namtu Township, Shan State.
The Tatmadaw clashed with the KNU/KNLA from 4-8 March in Kayin/Karen State.
Further, it engaged in a heavy confrontation with a Northern Alliance/FPNCC member, the
Arakan Army (AA), near Paletwa, Chin State.
A bomb exploded outside a Yoma Bank branch in Lashio, Shan State on 21 February
2018, killing 2 and injuring 22 others. Three days later, on 24 February, three low-grade
bombs exploded near government properties in Rakhine State’s capital, Sittwe. So far, both
attacks have gone unclaimed by any group. On 12 May, the TNLA attacked police outposts,
a bridge, and a casino near the border town of Muse in northern Shan State, killing up to
20 people.
On 5 April, Saw Oo Moo, a local Karen community worker who was a member of the
Mutraw (Papun) Emergency Assistance Team (MEAT) and the KNU was shot dead by the
Tatmadaw while he was returning home on a motorbike. The military later claimed that Oo
Moo was a rebel disguised as a civilian.
Karen Peace Support Network (KPSN), The Nightmare Returns: Karen Hopes for Peace
and Stability dashed by Burma Army’s actions (April
2018):https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jq_q1pRsCw-uKVHkZFU8I4uj6Q2SAzg-/view;
Panyakom, Somboon and Waters, Tony, ‘Myanmar’s Nationwide Ceasefire Agreement:
Challenges and Opportunities on the Path to Peace-building in Myanmar: A case Study of
Karen National Union (KNU)’, Page 8:“For over a year now the Burma Army has taken
advantage of the ceasefire, they continued to transport their military supplies, rotate their
troops, modify and fortify all of their bases. They also built and repaired their helipads. In
Mutraw district alone, since the ceasefire, the Burma Army has created 14 new military
bases,”:https://bit.ly/2I04tSh
The military and the AA first clashed with each other all through November 2017 at
various occasions:https://frontiermyanmar.net/en/1300-chin-state-villagers-flee-to-india-
[1]
[2]
[3]
[4]
[5]
[6]
[7]
[8]
[9]

to-escape-tatmadaw-arakan-army-clashes; after a gap of almost six month, they clashed
again in May 2018:https://www.irrawaddy.com/news/burma/renewed-clashes-leave-4-
dead-chin-state-aa-spokesman.html
The KIA has reportedly trained half of AA’s cadreship, and has also permitted the group
to set up bases in its own territory.
In the author’s distinction of ‘non-military’ and ‘civilian’, the former denotes targets
affiliated with the state apparatus (including civil law-and-order) but not directly the
armed forces or paramilitary (examples: police station, post office, administrative offices,
ministerial residences), while the latter denotes all other civilian targets not affiliated with
the state (like malls, banks, public squares, etc.)
Clashes between RCSS (signatory) and TNLA (non-signatory) in March and those
between TNLA and SSA-N (both non-signatories) in early May
Key arguments can be found in – Joshi, M. & Quinn, J.M. (January 2015), ‘Is the Sum
Greater than the Parts? The Terms of Civil War Peace Agreements and the Commitment
Problem Revisited’, Negotiation Journal:https://doi.org/10.1111/nejo.12077
Both groups signed the NCA in February 2018
Angshuman Choudhury is a Researcher and Coordinator of the
South East Asia Research Programme (SEARP) of New Delhi-based
think tank, Institute of Peace and Con ict Studies (IPCS). He is
currently conducting research on Myanmar’s ethnic peace process
and has previously written about this subject for his institute. He
is also an independent journalist and lmmaker, and has written
on political and con ict-related issues in The Diplomat, Asia
Times, South Asia Journal, Firstpost, The Huf ngton Post India,
The Citizen, The Quint, etc. Angshuman holds a M.Sc. in Con ict
Prevention and Peacebuilding from Durham University (UK).
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[12]
[13]
[14]
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6/25/2018 Stalemate and Suspicion: An Appraisal of the Myanmar Peace Process – Tea Circle
https://teacircleoxford.com/2018/06/06/stalemate-and-suspicion-an-appraisal-of-the-myanmar-peace-process/ 1/15


Stalemate and Suspicion: An
Appraisal of the Myanmar
Peace Process
Bobby Anderson explores fundamental—and often, incompatible—
differences in perception between Myanmar’s military, civilian, and
insurgent authorities.
This post is part of Tea Circle’s “2018 Year in Review” series, which
looks back at developments in different elds over the last year.
Nearly three years after Myanmar’s rst ethnic armed
organizations or EAOs signed the National Cease re
Agreement, the “21 Century Panglong” peace process which
followed is equal parts deadlocked and contested. The rst
meeting between the Union and the EAO signatories, in
August 2016, bore few results but was signi cant in that it
actually happened. The second, in June 2017, resulted in
agreement on 37 basic principles, but not federalism, equality,
autonomy, and the drafting of state constitutions. A month
after the last meeting, eight signatories formed a “Peace
st

Process Steering Team” to evaluate the current NCA, referring
to it as a “deviation from the path they had envisioned ”.
Since then, a year’s worth of meetings have been postponed.
Meanwhile, with some exceptions, the majority of signatory
groups posed no threat to the state and held no signi cant
territory; the majority of experienced ghters are represented
by non-signatories.
Numbers
Let’s begin with the insurgent groups and their ghters.
Measuring NCA participation by the number of groups rather
than the number of ghters within groups produces
unexpectedly rosy results, with eleven signatories and nine
non-signatories:
If we look at armed ghters as a whole, a less sanguine picture
emerges. Of a total of 84,660 ghters in the twenty groups,
represented in the tables below , NCA signatories contain
21,560 ghters, while non-signatories contain 63,100 ghters,
or 75% of ghters:
[1]
[1]

If we include credible reserves, the total number of ghters
increases to 116,660, composed of 23,560 signatory ghters
and 93,100 non-signatory ghters. Signatory ghters drop to
20%. If we include estimated increases in non-signatory
numbers through recruitment—such as found within the Ta’ang
National Liberation Army or TNLA, for example —the
numbers weigh even more heavily toward non-signatories.
Threats
Not many of the signatory groups actually possess recent
combat experience. The non-signatories have it in spades.
The Karen National Union and the Restoration Council of Shan
State—the main actors that legitimize the NCA—have it. The
[1]

New Mon State Party, the Democratic Kayin Benevolent Army,
and the Democratic Karen Buddhist Army also merit mention.
The other NCA groups are no longer signi cant, and a few are
historical relics; they have been described by Bertil Lintner as
NGOs rather than EAOs.
Of the non-signatories, the military refuses to acknowledge
the legitimacy of many of the groups it is most actively
ghting: namely, three of the four entities which constitute the
Northern Alliance, which launched an offensive against the
Tatmadaw in late 2016 in northern Shan State. The NA is
comprised of the Arakan Army or AA, the Myanmar National
Democratic Alliance Army or MNDAA, the TNLA, and two
brigades from the Kachin Independence Army or KIA. Even if
the former three wished to sign the NCA, the Tatmadaw
wouldn’t let them. The three contain a minimum of 11,000
experienced ghters: adding the KIA to the total brings it to a
minimum of 21,000.
Alliances
The Northern Alliance, for its part, now falls under the Federal
Political Negotiation and Consultation Committee, or FPNCC, a
negotiating block created and led by the United Wa State Party
or UWSP- the largest, best armed, and most cohesive EAO in
the country. The Shan State Progress Party and the National
Democratic Alliance Army- a separate group from the MNDAA-
are also members. Unlike many an EAO alliance, the FPNCC is
proving more durable, and at present it contains, including

reserves, 92,000 ghters: the absolute majority of EAO ghters
countrywide.
The NCA lacks substance if it lacks these groups and lacks the
means by which to include them. Unable to recognize the
elephant in the room, both the military and the civilian
government refuse to negotiate with the FPNCC as a bloc. This
is an inelegant attempt at “divide and rule”: the continued use
of a playbook that has failed the state across the last half
century.
The FPNCC, for its part, has suggested a new peace process
beyond the con nes of the NCA, which frustrated EAOs might
embrace. They might force a different settlement.
Deadlock
EAOs want a political dialogue about the parameters of a
federal state followed by security sector and constitutional
reform, after which disarmament, demobilization and
reintegration of EAOs (DDR) might occur. The Tatmadaw,
fantastically, want EAO’s disarmament prior to political
negotiations. This could also be described as “surrender”. The
Tatmadaw make the same demand for the non-signatories it
wages war against in the north. The civilian government
supports their position. This is a complete non-starter, and
re ective of a lack of sincerity, as well as a page from the
above mentioned playbook. In 1981, talks between the KIA
and the Tatmadaw fell apart when limited autonomy was
rejected. 37 years on, the word federalism is used as a lure, but

it is, so far, without substance. That a discussion around it has
not even occurred since 2015 re ects an incompatibility of
positions.
Besides federalism, the Tatmadaw demands that signatories
acknowledge the 2008 Constitution, which formalized
Tatmadaw embeddedness in the civilian government through
control of the Ministries of Defense, Border Affairs, and
interior/ home affairs; an allotted 25% of parliamentary seats
that ensures veto power; and a de ned right to seize control
of, and disband, an elected civilian government. This obviously
discourages EAO disarmament. The few powerful signatories
engaged with the NCA with the implicit belief that the process
might lead to the reform of that same Constitution. Few
believe that this is now likely, especially after the murder of Ko
Ni.
Departure
Whether the KNU will remain in the current NCA peace process
is also an open question. Their acceptance of the agreement
was also an acceptance that they would maintain their
territories in the southeast, with no government or Tatmadaw
encroachment without permission. But the Tatmadaw is
extending roads into KNU territory in Papun, Kayin state, and
ghting between the two is ongoing. The Tatmadaw’s claim
that the roads they are extending will be for civilian, and not
military, purposes, is disingenuous. Roads transport troops.
The Tatmadaw is violating the NCA through these acts, for all
EAOs to see, while paradoxically encouraging others to sign

the same agreement they don’t abide by. If the KNU leaves the
process, the process may well be over.
China
The FPNCC—the most powerful and signi cant non-state actor
in the country—is implicitly backed by the most powerful state
actor beyond Myanmar’s borders: China, which has emerged as
the biggest non- Myanmar player in the peace process.
Western groups, for their part, struggle to maintain relevance.
Times have changed since human waves of Chinese Red
Guards overran Tatmadaw positions in Northern Shan State in
1968 and established the area as Communist Party of Burma
or CPB stronghold. The CPB leadership’s declared support for
China’s “Gang of Four” clique in the power struggle which
occurred after Mao Zedong’s death in 1976 back red when
Deng Xiaoping emerged victorious from that struggle: Chinese
support to the CPB and other foreign revolutionaries waned as
Deng implemented a benign foreign policy focused on trade.
Across decades of sanctions, China provided an economic
lifeline to the Tatmadaw that, through then-Military
Intelligence chief Khin Nyunt, closely aligned itself with
China’s civilian and military authorities. Factionalization within
the Tatmadaw emerged from such alignment, and Khin Nyunt
was arrested and jailed in 2004. His faction—and China’s
intimate in uence—was purged.
The Tatmadaw’s allowance of a shift to quasi-civilian
government re ected in part the need to diversify foreign

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