Wai Yan Hpone

The last week of August 2002 was an unusually rainy week. Even after 20 years, I remember that because I spent that week in what was the most hostile, violent and stressful place in my life. Up to now, I can revisit the fear I felt— fear of losing a future, of never seeing my beloved ones again.  Photo: Burma Campaign UK I was a third-year engineering student at that time. The final exam was drawing near, and that one evening of late August, I was studying while Mom and others were busy preparing for her 50th birthday treat the next morning.  At about 11 pm, three men in plainclothes came, searched my study room, and took me away. “National Bureau of Intelligence,” they said to my family, without giving their names and ranks or showing their IDs. “We have a few questions for him.”  “We’ll send him back soon,” they told my family, “Do not make any complaint to any entity.” But I understood that in Burma, also known as Myanmar, a country under military rule for decades, a person taken aw

ON 1 February 2021, the dreams of many people in Burma (Myanmar) were shattered overnight. Since then, I, along with everyone else in my country of over 55 million people, have been living in darkness.  The situation one year since remains dire – one of shrinking basic freedoms, a banking and financial crisis, mounting civil war in the midst of an unthinkable human rights disaster. For someone living in what is already one of the world’s most impoverished countries, facing a military coup during a global pandemic is akin to experiencing an 8-magnitude earthquake in the middle of a category-five cyclone.  Whether out in the streets or at home, one can die from a stray bullet. Soldiers shoot wildly every time they face a hit-and-run attack by urban underground fighters. Before going out, we remove all sensitive content from our mobile phones, including the VPNs needed to open apps like Facebook. Refusal to cooperate with soldiers at checkpoints can lead to severe consequences, including

While the anti-coup movement is ostensibly about who rules – the military or the people – embedded in it are four tendencies that, with the world’s help, will radically remake Myanmar society for the better. Myanmar is in the throes of a profound political crisis, but the solution must extend beyond the question of who’s in charge of government. The resistance to the Tatmadaw’s takeover has been spearheaded by the youth. Members of so-called Generation Z have learned from their elders in the 1988 pro-democracy movement, but this “Spring Revolution” is not like their parents’ failed revolution. The battle is lopsided – the military has more guns and more money than the people right now – but, with action from the international community, it is entirely winnable. The prize will not only be democratic government, but a far more just, inclusive and united society, thanks to four progressive tendencies embedded in the youth-led movement. Genuine democracy The first of these tendencies is a

I had always wondered If I truly loved you. For ages, my love for you  Did not take a distinct form. Then I learned  How to be mindful of my breath; Breathe in, breathe out; Breathe in, and breathe out. I went on to being mindful of my mind, Watching all its nature,  As it flickers like fireflies. As time passed, I could transform my old love, From a larva that could not crack open its shell, Into a butterfly,  That flied away in full swing, With kindness, compassion and positive energies As its only siblings. So my dear from near and afar, Stay with me if you want to, I will be more than pleased. Go if you so choose to, I won't be hurt, For I have already detached myself from you, Without ceasing to love you. After all, I have explored, Through observation of my breath and mind, That true love has blossomed like a waterlily, Under the moonlight, In my bosom. So pick it, smell it, and wear it. And you won't have to pay, For you'll never afford it. All you have to do is, Che

Among a litany of long-standing challenges facing a new NLD-led government, addressing religious nationalism will be among the most sensitive and demanding. The people of Myanmar are euphoric at the landslide victory won by the opposition National League for Democracy (NLD) in a Nov. 8 general election deemed to be the freest and fairest since 1990. As Nobel laureate Aung San Suu Kyi’s party has received more than enough parliamentary seats to select a president of their choice and form government, many are already beginning to dream of a better future ahead. There is widespread optimism that an NLD-led government will ensure more democratic reforms, respect the public’s will and attract more international support. However, the people of Myanmar should not get over-excited about the country’s prospects over the next five years. This is not yet a happy ending but rather the start of another episode. The new government will inherit a package of political time bombs—unresol

WITH general elections in Burma drawing ever nearer, questions arise over the future of the key political players beyond this exciting milestone. Many are convinced that the incumbent Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP) has very little chance of securing another victory, while the opposition National League for Democracy (NLD) and other big ethnic parties are in the box seat. If this turns out to be case, and we see a primarily civilian government, what will next year’s political landscape look like, and how can we expect the relationship between civilian politicians and the military to evolve? We have seen a new institutional framework emerge from the 2008 Constitution, in which a new generation took over the reins of government from a single strongman. We also saw that the new constitutional structures and decision-making forums did not yield any intense frictions among the new elites as they assumed key positions. This is no surprise, and it is not for nothin