Monday, August 15, 2011

Burma at a Crossroads (Part II): An Analysis of Societal Resistance




By MIN ZIN Friday, August 12, 2011

It is now more cliché than politically incorrect to quote Harold Lasswell’s definition of politics as “who gets what, when and how?” Still, this serves as a good reminder for those whose political drive is stuck in moral traffic, because it underlines distribution of power as the determining factor in political outcomes. However, the ability to achieve desired outcomes is only one part of the political relevancy of societal resistance. As this author noted before, another factor—legitimacy—plays a crucial role in determining the relevancy of societal resistance in Burma.

A positive outcome will not be achieved on its own no matter how the new regime in Naypyidaw manages to initiate a lengthy and non-linear state-building process. The geographical and functional reach of the Burmese state has been highly constrained by a multitude of societal forces, including democratic opposition groups as well as ethnic insurgencies that have plagued the country for several decades. Despite the fact that Burma is now undergoing a regime-led political transition, societal pressures will play a crucial role in intermediating the outcome. This article will attempt to analyze the role of societal forces in influencing the political transition.

Although the mainstream opposition groups are sidelined in the new political game of the post-2010 regime, the ongoing repressive nature of state-society relations still legitimizes the opposition forces and makes them relevant. However, whether or not the opposition groups are capable of making use of this political capital for the good of the country or even at least for their own survival remains a big question. Let’s start with unpacking the political opportunity structures that are available to the opposition.

There are two key domains emerging out of the post-2010 regime. The first is the parameter set by the 2008 Constitution and its elected government, and the second domain represents what I would call “the principled opposition” or “mainstreamers,” who refuse to play within the political framework set by the regime and yet remain as formidable stakeholders.

In addition to the ruling Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP) and direct military representatives in governing bodies, the political parties, including ethnic parties that contested the 2010 election, civil society actors, media, and technocrats, are prime actors in this regime-controlled political parameter. Let’s call them “the insiders,” since they play within the existing game.

Among the mainstreamers, the National League for Democracy (NLD) led by Aung San Suu Kyi, clandestine or underground activists, and an assortment of ethnic resistance groups are still major forces to be reckoned with. Observers should analyze what kind of political environment prevails in each of these two domains that provide political opportunity for respective players to advance their goals.

Thanks to the changing structures of state in the post-2010 regime, a relative openness emerges in the first domain, where we see a considerable number of actors from civil society and technocrats, media groups, the legislature and the judiciary attempt to push the limits. The majority of players in this regime-controlled domain appear to recognize that they can’t affect “the exercise of power,” but can play a role in expanding ways of “access to power”. They pursue a process and a strategy that allows them to conduct both embeddedness—being co-opted into the existing political framework—and contestation. Thus far, the domestic media and technocrats are becoming more outspoken in their contestation of the inefficient governance of the post-2010 regime, while elected opposition parties in the legislature rely more on the embeddedness process that focuses on institution-building rather than institutional autonomy, at least in the early years of a new regime. The judiciary remains the most conservative arena in the regime-controlled domain. However, this could be a theater where the opposition could repeatedly test and expose the regime’s claims to “rule of law”.

Meanwhile, actors in all of these arenas—civil society, media, the legislature, and so on—can’t take it for granted that the relative openness in the regime-controlled domain is linear and irreversible. The success depends on their own tactfulness, the result of power rivalries within the new regime, and also the willingness of the principled opposition groups to ally with them or at least refrain from rocking the boat.

The emergence of this new state structures poses a serious challenge to the “mainstreamers” or principled opposition groups, though they still hold sway on public support and Western backing.

The challenge demonstrates a dilemma for the opposition groups: they can't develop a better alternative process, nor are they willing to enter the regime-controlled game. While the rationale of “the insiders” is to induce a political trickle-down transition in Burma by playing within the existing parameters, the vow of “the mainstreamers” is to create trickle-up change by mobilizing the masses.

However, the political opportunity available to the domain of the principled opposition groups is still scanty. Recently, the new government appeared to offer a three-pronged approach to the opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi, which are (1) recognition of the existing regime, (2) talks between government representative Aung Kyi and Suu Kyi , and (3) the latter’s involvement in government poverty alleviation efforts. This three-level approach is in fact a resumption of what United Nations proposed in the wake of the brutal crackdown on the 2007 “Saffron Revolution,” in which the UN special envoy on Burma encouraged the junta and Suu Kyi to cooperate on recognition of the regime’s roadmap, meaningful and time-bound talks and a broad-based poverty alleviation commission. The junta’s supremo, Snr-Gen Than Shwe, then scratched the UN’s proposal after a period of using it to diffuse international criticism of the 2007 crackdown.

Although Thein Sein, the president of the new government, might now intend to reemploy such tools of resolution without the UN or any other third party’s involvement, the concession he could make may be nothing more than allowing Suu Kyi to play within the existing game with the provision of some face-saving tickets for the Lady. Unless Suu Kyi manages to pull off a better alternative, she will have to go along with this supply-side-driven transition package.

However, the scenario regarding the ethnic resistance groups such as the ceasefire armies is more complicated. The new regime finds itself ineffective in crushing defiant groups such as the Kachin Independence Army and even smaller splinter groups like the Democratic Karen Buddhist Army, thanks to its own weak military capability, the new regime's lack of legitimacy, and the direct geopolitical constraints imposed by neighboring countries.

However, ethnic groups will also not survive on military defense alone. They may eventually be forced by the regime as well as geopolitical pressures to enter political negotiations within the framework of the 2008 Constitution. Depending on the unity or divisiveness among intra- and inter-ethnic groups, the gains they achieve from the new regime will be uneven.

Generally speaking, the principled opposition groups—ethnic as well as urban forces—in Burma are perhaps by default most likely to make news headlines because they constantly bear the brunt of repression and injustice inflicted by the brutal regime. But they are so far losing control of the political trend-lines because of limited political opportunity available to their domain. At the same time, they haven’t been successful in creating their own political opportunity that would allow them to advance a better alternative.

Our analysis thus far demonstrates that the regime possesses overall control over the political trend, while the opposition—both “the insiders” and “the mainstreamers”—hold significant sway over specific issues and arenas in terms of power distribution. In other words, the regime controls a new parameter of politics and also to a large extent contains the domain of “the mainstreamers,” including the capabilities of Suu Kyi and even of major ceasefire groups such as the ethnic Wa. However, “the insiders” (those who play within the regime-controlled game) manage to affect the ways of “access to power” through their embeddedness and contestation of the available parameter. Though the evidence is not yet conclusive, the relative openness and the boundary-spanning efforts of these players in specific arenas such as media, civil society and even the legislature should not be understated.

At the same time, the “mainstreamers” have significant control over some issues, such as the removal of economic sanctions, in addition to substantive public support and Western backing for their dedicated leaders—especially Suu Kyi. However, the lack of coordination between players of two domains has in fact weakened the strength of the “insiders” as well as the “mainstreamers,” and has perhaps given even more leverage to “hardliners” within the new regime in their pursuit of personal or institutional rivalries.

Of course, the possibility of spontaneous public outrage and explosion can’t be ruled out if there is a disruption of the day-to-day survival of ordinary people or a communal conflict, such as anti-Chinese riots.

Whether or not such a scenario is desirable requires more analysis that is beyond the scope of this article.

In summary, the societal forces—“the insiders,” “the mainstreamers” and even the general masses—play a crucial role in intermediating political outcomes. However, if “the insiders”— those who simultaneously embed in and contest the existing game—and “the mainstreamers” or “principled opposition groups”—those who hold sway over substantive public support and Western backing—fail to coordinate in intermediating the regime-led political transition, the people of Burma will have to bear the endless suffering of Sisyphean struggle.

Min Zin is a Burmese journalist living in exile.




Friday, July 29, 2011

Burma at a Crossroads: An Analysis of State Structures




By MIN ZIN Monday, July 25, 2011


It has been more than 100 days since President Thein Sein’s new government took office in Burma after a widely criticized “sham” election in November 2010. Many Burma analysts and opposition activists alike have examined the work of a new government by questioning whether the recent changes in Burma demonstrate the beginnings of a process of genuine democratic transition, or whether this is merely “old wine in a new bottle.”

Unfortunately, the question in itself is wrong and misleading. The changes that are likely to take place under the Thein Sein government represent neither democratic transition nor recorked wine.

I have consistently argued since 2008 on the pages of The Irrawaddy that the new constitution and the 2010 elections will not change incompatible goals and relations between military and civilian forces, broadly speaking state-society relations.

As result, the post-2010 regime will not change any salience of the issues including political prisoners, ethnic conflicts, and other rights violations that the country has been facing and which have earned it pariah status. However, I argued that November's election will contribute to changes in the format of governance—the transformation of the one-dimensional military junta into a hybrid form of government that includes both political and military elements. Regardless of who pulls the strings, this could lead to either a serious internal split or the utter inefficiency of the ruling body.

In brief, my argument noted that even after the elections, the state-society relations would remain more or less the same, but the intra-state relations or state structure could be changed. Now we can engage more in nuanced analysis of the part that I presume changing since the real situation on ground has begun unfolding.

First of all, it is remarkable that Snr-Gen Than Shwe managed to establish a pre-mortem succession arrangement by installing potential rivals as his heirs apparent in different institutional settings. Than Shwe put Thein Sein in the presidential seat but checked the move by installing Tin Aung Myint Oo as a vice president. In parliament, he positioned Shwe Mann, who had widely been speculated to become the first president of a hybrid government, as the chair of the Lower House.

Those who were second-tier in the lineup but reputed as hardliners, such as Htay Oo, Aung Thaung and Maung Oo, have been assigned to lead the military-backed Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP), the ruling party.

Than Shwe left his commander-in-chief position to Min Aung Hlaing, who is very junior compared with the current leaders of the USDP-led government, but is known as disrespectful of his seniors whenever he has a chance of holding an ascendant position.

In brief, Than Shwe put them in stalemate against one another, and at the same time weakened the overall governance capacity so that these heirs apparent could not unite on the same ground and unsettle his days in retirement. This careful arrangement of inter-institutions and personality rivalries effectively undermines the possible consolidation of a new government’s power.

The generals-turned-civilian leaders, who used to live under the vertical command structure, appear to be clueless that who is now in the driver seat. It is still unclear where the real locus of power in this new arrangement lies. No one so far dares to cross the boundary of others, despite the increasing attempts at jostling and even trespassing.

Second, if governance could be defined in its minimalistic understanding as the tools, strategies and relationships used by governments to help govern, the pivotal focus for analysis would be the state institutions. Therefore, it is necessary to examine the formal as well as the informal strategies and relationships that the new government in Naypyidaw is likely to employ.

In institutional terms, we await to see what office (or who in an initial period) evolves into the dominant mechanism (or figure) to address the challenges of governance—whether it be the administrative body led by Thein Sein who apparently tends to rely on technocrats, or the legislative body led by Shwe Mann, or the USDP led by Htay Oo et al, or even the emergence of a new autocrat, for instance Tin Aung Myint Oo.

As the country is undergoing a political transition, we can’t of course expect democratic check and balance in its state structure formations. One institution, either formal or informal, will turn out to be the dominant instrument in governing the country. Meanwhile, unless there is uncontrollable popular uprising or serious split within the ruling body, the military may remain in the background.

If the generals-turned-civilian leaders in the new government manage to appoint a new military chief every two or four years, it will further preempt another potential military dictator to take root in a military power base. Meanwhile, the most pressing challenge for the current ruling elites is to settle institutional (in some incidents personality) rivalries between different state structures. The observers must carefully detect which institution will come to dominate or all will end up in inefficient impasse—or even fall apart.

Although the inner workings of these institutional and personality rivalries remain a matter of black box, some educated guesses could be made to construct a possible scenario.

Careful analysis of biographical records shows that Thein Sein has always been an administrative person, not a decision-maker. He served as Colonel General Staff (now called Brigadier General of the General Staff at the Ministry of Defense) in 1992, a very powerful position in the army because the Brig-Gen's general staff oversees and coordinates the whole operation of the military establishment.

As an administrative officer, Thein Sein is known as a good listener and reportedly good at facilitating and coordinating policy. But he has never been an effective decision-maker. In his career, Thein Sein only took commander positions when he didn’t have to engage any hard-fought battles. For instance, he was the commanding officer of Infantry Battalion 89 in Chin State in the late 1980s; of Military Operation Command MOC 4 near Rangoon in mid-1990s; and of the newly formed Triangle Regional Military Command in 1996.

This professional record is clearly in contrast with the experience of his closest threat, Tin Aung Myint Oo, who checkmates him in administration. Tin Aung Myint Oo is known as a “fighter” in the army. Tin Aung Myint Oo served a deputy commander of Battalion 11 Infantry of LID 88 headed by Than Shwe in 1981-83, and later on won the Thiha Thura medal in combat against Communist rebels in the 1988.

Tin Aung Myint Oo became commanding officer of No 111 Light Infantry Battalion under LID 33, and of the Tactical Operations Command under the Northern Military Command in 1992. In 1995, he was a brigadier general with the Military Operation Command-1 based in Northern Shan State. Battle-hardened Tin Aung Myint Oo became commander of the Northeast Military Region in Lashio in 1997 before being promoted to Quartermaster General in 2001.

Military insiders observe that Tin Aung Myint Oo is decisive, micro-managing, rude and corrupt. He is a “jungle man, not a gentleman,” says defector ex-Maj Aung Lynn Htut.

Reports coming out of Naypyidaw confirm that the rivalries and tensions within administrative apparatus are worsening over time.

As mentioned above, Than Shwe appeared to design such an administrative set-up in order to preempt unified successors, and consequently it weakens the governance. It is not likely that we will see any political breakthrough—either with the opposition led by Aung San Suu Kyi or with ethnic resistance groups—under such governance constraints. It seems that a breakthrough will take place only if Suu Kyi and the ethnic ceasefire groups agree to make game-changing concessions such as the former accepting the 2008 constitution, and the latter accepting the junta's Border Guard Force arrangement. However, this scenario is currently unthinkable.

It doesn’t mean that the observers should ignore the intentions of some leading members of the current leadership. President Thein Sein gave a noteworthy inaugural speech, in which he emphasized “good governance,” the fight against corruption, promotion of “democratic practices, not only among parliamentary representatives, but also among the people,” and the rule of law.

Likewise, Thura Shwe Mann, the speaker of the house at the Pyithu Hluttaw, the Lower House of Burma’s Parliament, gave a jaw-dropping speech to lawmakers, business people and even the media. He repeatedly noted the phrase, “No one is above the law,” and that “people’s power reigns in the parliament as it is formed with the people’s representatives,” invoking clause 228 of the constitution to elevate the role of parliament above the government.

Was it all too good to be true? In fact, the rhetoric of these speeches, which might reflect their genuine intents, are so far nothing more than a process of scoring points to promote their own institutions.

For instance, Maung Oo of the USDP emphasized in his speeches that power has been transferred from the State Peace and Development Council to the USDP, not to parliament, and the USDP will rule the country for at least 50 more years.

The rhetoric, therefore, mainly demonstrates the attempts of each group to consolidate their power bases and institutions.

So long as the struggle over the location of power is unresolved, the policy outcomes remain unstable and reversible (such as the recent decentralization experiment being revoked). Enthusiastic observers should step back and check the facts, instead of taking speeches at face value.

If the new regime’s institutional rivalry and power struggles turn out to be prolonged and result in inefficient governance or a split, the military’s renewed intervention or even a popular revolt should not be ruled out.

However, if the regime manages to entrust an institution (such as the technocrats or parliament or the USDP) to run the show, we will see a consolidation of power. It means that the regime will be able start the real process of much-needed institution-building in Burma.

This institution-building, however, must be understood in the context of state-building rather than democratization. As a result, one visible progress may be seen in more dynamic economic rationality because the rule of law—at least as far as business transactions are concerned—will be introduced.

It may help diversify the sources of the country’s revenue by promoting manufacturing industries, instead of almost total concentration on the natural resource extraction sector.

If stability and confidence in governance grow, an incremental progress in the direction of media and political liberalization may ensue, but the resolution of several critical issues, including the release of leading political prisoners (such as Khun Htun Oo, Min Ko Naing, Zarganar and U Gambira), and the peaceful settlement of ceasefire challenges, will not necessarily be guaranteed.

In summary, the recent changes in Burma do not support the argument that there is “no change at all” nor the optimism that “the beginning of a process of democratization” is dawning.

Recent events demonstrate that the structure of state has changed, and serious institutional rivalry is taking place within the new regime to compete for and seize the locus of power.

If this power struggle is settled successfully, an institution-building process will begin in Burma, and economic rationality will likely reign. If not, we will see one of the following: splits or purges, inefficient government, the emergence of another autocrat, military intervention or a popular uprising. Worse still, these scenarios are not mutually exclusive to one another.

Min Zin is a Burmese journalist living in exile.


Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Escaping the Traps of the Past



NOVEMBER, 2010 - VOL.18, NO.11

Min Zin

Although Burma’s upcoming Nov. 7 election will not resolve the country’s ongoing political crisis or provide much-needed reforms, one should not be blind to the fact that the election will have consequences—whether negative or positive. Political actors who either participate in or boycott the election will bear the aftershocks of this event. Political players will not be able to write their political plans on a blank slate. Instead, they have to work with what is at hand.

The 2010 election will contribute to changes in the format of governance—the transformation of the one-dimensional military junta into a hybrid form of government that includes both political and military elements. Regardless of who pulls the strings, this could lead to either a serious internal split or the utter inefficiency of the ruling body.


Leadership of the NDF, including chairman Khin Maung Swe. (Photo: MMM/The Irrawaddy)
A recent major reshuffle within the Burmese military reportedly included the appointment of the future commander-in-chief and deputy commander-in-chief, although the top two generals who have long occupied these positions—Snr-Gen Than Shwe and Vice Snr-Gen Maung Aye, respectively—have retained their military titles. Interestingly, the junta’s third- and fourth-ranking generals, Gen Shwe Mann and Lt-Gen Tin Aung Myint Oo, both quit their military positions and adopted civilian titles, according to state media reports.


If this reshuffle indicates that Than Shwe has made a pre-mortem succession arrangement by installing an heir apparent and investing him with considerable power to manage the Tatmadaw, or armed forces, the opposition and its advocates should celebrate this development as good news for two reasons.

First, this transition is an inter-generational succession, unlike the intra-generational shift from Saw Maung to Than Shwe in 1992. For the departing Than Shwe to continue to control the political role of the Tatmadaw and call the shots for key policy decisions, he needs to create a formal position for himself and leave the army chief position to a successor who is not only loyal but also weak.

Temporarily, at least, this could mean a disruption of personalized power among the military top brass—something that the opposition could seize upon as an opportunity to reformulate a new and positive dynamic of civil-military relations. It is particularly significant that this will occur within the context of a transition from military to hybrid rule. Unlike one-party rule and the closed socialist economy under former dictator Ne Win, the new hybrid political arrangement and market economy will make it difficult for the departing leaders to control the military completely, especially when the role of Than Shwe fades away due to a decline in his health or other causes.

Second, if Than Shwe is confident enough to assume the role of president in the aftermath of the election and dedicates more of his energies to overseeing the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP), it will give the military a chance to gradually detach itself from past wrongdoings and renew the integrity of the institution.

We have seen attempts by the military to break with the past before. For instance, as retired Lt-Gen Chit Swe revealed in his memoir, some senior officers who took part in the 1988 coup wanted to dissociate themselves from the failures of the defunct Burma Socialist Programme Party (BSPP), noting that the massive popular uprising of that year was directed at ruling socialist party politicians, not the army.

Thus the military’s claims to a distinct corporate identity could allow it to distance itself even from soldiers-turned-politicians if the new government faces a crisis of legitimacy. If the Tatmadaw was able to part ways from the ruling party following the socialist era, when all soldiers were technically party members, it can certainly assume a distinct role from the USDP, which is set to become as ideologically vacuous and deeply hated as the BSPP.

Such a change in the Tatmadaw’s power dynamic in the post-election period could open the way for a new civil-military relationship. Thus the election could prove consequential for the opposition, particularly the National League for Democracy (NLD) led by Aung San Suu Kyi.

In this context, it is important to note that although the NLD decision not to contest the election was probably the right one, the party was wrong not to diversify its pro-democracy struggle and avoid an internal split by setting up or at least allowing a proxy party to exist. Unfortunately, without Suu Kyi, the other NLD leaders seem incapable of articulating or implementing any political program or strategy. They often seem narrowly focused on party survival, merely biding their time until Suu Kyi’s release from house arrest without having any further agenda.

With Suu Kyi at the helm, the party appears to have some direction, but it is still prone to poor political timing. Since rising to prominence as the leader of the democratic opposition, Suu Kyi has made a number of unfortunate judgment calls that have had lasting consequences.

These include her direct confrontation with former dictator Ne Win in 1989, at a time when he still wielded considerable power behind the scenes; her premature public disclaimer that she was not making any secret deals with the regime soon after holding talks with Than Shwe in 1994; her announcement of plans to boycott the National Convention less than two months after a visit by then US Secretary of State Madeleine Albright in 1995, raising the regime’s suspicions of a conspiracy and hindering future trust-building efforts and possible negotiations; and her decision in 2003 to travel at night through hostile areas, including Depayin, despite warnings of possible violent attacks. Although Suu Kyi and her party are certainly not responsible for the regime’s subsequent actions on these occasions, these examples of past missteps do serve to illustrate the lack of strategic thinking on the part of the NLD and its leader.

Despite its history of misjudgments and recent forcible disbandment, however, the NLD remains a potent force in Burmese politics. For its part, the junta seems content to contain the party’s influence ahead of the election, while the NLD itself also appears to be in a holding pattern, waiting for Suu Kyi’s release, which is scheduled to take place less than a week after the election.

Thus both sides are strangely in synch, for the most part avoiding open confrontation while no doubt anticipating a future showdown.

Again, however, this approach betrays the NLD’s weakness at formulating plans of action that are likely to lead to real results. In this case, the price of losing sight of the potential for marginal gains, including additional opportunities to reach out to the public, recruit new members and mobilize resources, could be even greater than in the past.

By failing to offer an alternative to the regime’s relentless drive to legitimize itself under the guise of elections, the party risks losing its moral authority as the leading light of the democracy movement, without which it has precious little in the way of political capital. Although two decades of absolute military rule have been far from kind to the NLD, there’s no reason to believe that the messy post-election political scene, which will likely be fraught with political violence, corruption and political alliances between crooks, cronies and accused war criminals, will be any kinder. By taking a “purity-seeking” stance, the party could find itself in the wilderness of permanent opposition status for many more years to come.

Of course, the NLD is not alone in facing some hard choices at this juncture in Burmese history. The parties that have opted to contest the election are also going to have to navigate their way carefully around the many pitfalls that still await them. The ethnic parties are in a particularly precarious situation, as their efforts to win a place at the table come amid a deteriorating security situation that threatens to throw Burma back to the bad old days of life before the multitude of cease-fire agreements that have been in place for most of the past two decades. Even if these deals hold and the ethnic parties win a few seats in parliament, elected leaders will be hard-pressed to improve the lot of their constituents in an environment where military-owned businesses, junta cronies, foreign investors and ethnic drug lords and elites plunder natural resources without regard for the long-term needs of ordinary citizens.

The international community will also have to decide where it stands on the outcome of the election. At the moment, it looks like most countries will simply fall back on their established positions, with perhaps some softening of the stances of a few longstanding Western critics of the regime. Unless all countries concerned are somehow able to reach a consensus on where Burma should be heading after the election, however, continuing division will stand in the way of the sort of decisive action that will be needed to move things forward.

The Burmese political scene, in short, may be similar to a living museum, in which military domination, a hybrid parliamentary “talking shop,” thuggish political violence, kleptocracy, contained Balkanization, gulags and committed struggle by principled dissidents will exist and operate in multiple levels of conflict.

Under such circumstances, the possibility of a collapse of Burma’s polity due to implosion or explosion can’t be ruled out. Of course, it is not desirable, as the country will descend into a bloodbath and anarchy.


Ultimately, however, Burma’s future direction will remain, in the near term at least, largely in the hands of its current rulers. But if the generals believe that a USDP “victory” will give them a mandate to stifle real change indefinitely, they are seriously mistaken. Just as the past cannot be erased, the future is also not to be denied. And the future belongs to those who learn from their mistakes and adapt accordingly—not those who consider themselves permanently entitled to dictate the fate of an entire nation.

Min Zin is a Burmese journalist living in exile.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Can the Opposition Remain Relevant?




AUGUST, 2010 - VOL.18 NO.8

By Min Zin

The opposition in Burma should be measured both in terms of the public support it draws and its ability to achieve both its intermediate and ultimate goals

Since Burma won independence from Britain in 1948, the country has been fraught with a spectrum of contentious politics ranging from armed insurgencies to nonviolent movements against the state. The current political environment, however, marks the first time in Burmese history that the opposition is faced with the challenge of remaining relevant. And if they are going to remain relevant, the question is how?
There are two basic factors in determining the relevancy of an opposition group. The first is public support, or legitimacy. The second is the ability to achieve desired outcomes.

Legitimacy

In Burma’s contentious political environment, repression and the resulting grievances have inspired public action—and provided legitimacy to the opposition—whenever state interference with people’s everyday routines has been compounded by brutal and unjust events.

For example, the demonetization combined with police brutality against students in 1987, and the 500 percent fuel price hike combined with police brutality against Buddhist monks in 2007, each sparked political conflict and nonviolent movements that the public deemed legitimate. The endurance, commitment, courage and sacrifices of the activists strengthened the legitimacy of those movements in the public’s eyes, and the opposition was considered highly relevant despite the fact that activists could not operate in an open political system and faced a military government with a propensity for repression.

Min Zin is a Burmese journalist in exile.
Therefore, because in the past the Burmese regime created a political environment that compelled the public to support opposition movements, in examining whether opposition groups will remain relevant following the 2010 elections, it is important to consider whether the repressive nature of the state will continue.

The new Constitution and the 2010 election will not transform the incompatible goals of the military elite and the opposition, and therefore will not change their inherently conflicting relationship. In addition, the new, post-election government has little prospect of solving the issues facing the country, including human rights violations, corruption and economic mismanagement, all of which are associated with the military’s unchecked power, interests and behavior.

One change that will take place is the transformation of the one-dimensional military junta into a hybrid form of government—political and military. The new format, which the regime clearly intends to manipulate to maintain its grip on power, could ironically be viewed as a prospect for political realignment and therefore embolden the general public to rally behind the opposition groups.

But regardless of whether this takes place, the ongoing repressive nature of state-society relations will again legitimize the opposition groups and make them relevant by continuing to allow the opposition to rally the public against the military-backed hybrid regime.

However, as social scientist Doug McAdam says, “Movements may be largely born of environmental opportunities, but their fate is heavily shaped by their own actions.” In other words, actions lead to outcomes, and in addition to its ability to achieve its ultimate goals, the opposition’s actions and its ability to achieve intermediate goals will in large part determine whether it remains relevant.

Achieving Desired Outcomes

The prevailing general impression is that since 1988 the opposition groups have failed to accomplish their professed goals. Following its decision not to re-register the party, the National League for Democracy even officially apologized to the public for its failed policies in the struggle for democracy. However, sweeping statements about the opposition’s relevance based on its inability to achieve its ultimate desired outcome should not be made without evaluating factors such as resilience, leverage and endgame strategy.

Resilience

Resilience consists of more than psychological qualities such as endurance, commitment and courage, all of which the opposition groups demonstrate admirably. Resilience is also about the strength of a movement’s repertoire (forms of struggles) and mobilizing structure.

Since 1988, the dominant forms of struggle employed by the opposition groups have been political parties (mainly the NLD), underground/clandestine movements, civil society organizations, armed insurgencies and international advocacy movements.

Due to the cease-fire agreements between the junta and the ethnic resistance groups since 1989, the armed insurgencies have mostly been contained. However, international advocacy movements have been strong thanks to the political-moral strength of Daw Aung San Suu Kyi and the increasingly large Burmese diaspora communities around the world.

Student protest in Rangoon during the 1988 mass uprising.(Photo: THE IRRAWADDY)
One key opposition weakness might be the movement’s unwillingness or incapacity to diversify its repertoire, or forms of struggle. For instance, the NLD leadership, instead of allowing (or even encouraging) those who would like to set up a political party to contest the 2010 election, tended to vilify the moderates within the group. It seems that the leadership was not strategic enough to be aware of the advantages the whole movement could gain by sanctioning different forms of struggle. In this case, their tendency to put all of their eggs in one basket has led to a strategic blunder that could have long-term consequences for the opposition.

Another element of Burmese opposition resilience is its mobilizing structure, which is in many cases hierarchical. However, whenever Suu Kyi was free, she traveled to provinces where she empowered and inspired local and grass-roots party members to mobilize. In fact, she sparked initiatives of civil society by encouraging youth and women leaders to set up volunteer groups on wide-ranging issues such as assisting HIV/AIDS patients and providing legal protection for child soldiers and the victims of forced labor.

In addition, when Min Ko Naing and other 88 generation student leaders were released from prison in 2004-05, they broadened the opposition’s civil society practice within its nonviolent repertoire by reaching out to Buddhist monks, human rights advocates, lawyers, journalists, local NGOs, intellectuals, writers, the artistic community and others to strengthen the informal connective tissue of the movement. Before the activists had sufficient time to organize, however, the 2007 protests broke out. Though their initiatives contributed to the emergence of the “Saffron Revolution” in 2007, their lack of leverage allowed the regime to crush the movement in a violent crackdown.

Leverage

Although leverage is not the ultimate outcome sought by the opposition, improved leverage is, like resilience, a positive outcome that can be a stepping stone to achieve the desired endgame of regime change or even a negotiated outcome.

Since 1988, Burma’s activists have relied to a large degree on marches, protest demonstrations and public statements making political demands or requests. As social scientist Kurt Schock notes, these methods may be effective in mobilizing members of the aggrieved population and the support of third parties, and thereby obtaining legitimacy, but they are less effective in directly undermining state power to achieve desired outcomes unless used in tandem with methods of non-cooperation.

This lack of tactical innovation by the opposition has been compounded by the fact that the social groups most prominent in the movement—students and Buddhist monks—while providing maximum symbolic value, provide weaker leverage than workers or peasants because the state is less dependent on students and monks to maintain its power and survive. Thus far, no organization has emerged in Burma that is capable of effectively forging ties between students, monks, workers and peasants.

The opposition should also take into account the crucial role a third party can play in improving opposition leverage. For example, China’s current diplomatic support and political protection of the junta in the international arena, as well as its economic and military support, are one of the most challenging constraints on the opposition movement.

However, China is increasingly aware of the risks of a purely opportunist policy toward Burma, and if the opposition movement manages to sustain its resilience and improve its leverage by broadening its active support base, China might be persuaded to change its unconditional support for the military regime and actively advocate the goal of national reconciliation in Burma, thereby exponentially increasing the opposition’s leverage.

Media access also plays a crucial role in strengthening the leverage of the opposition groups. Although Burma’s domestic media is subject to severe news blackouts and censorship, the people of Burma listen to foreign short-wave radio stations, upon which they rely heavily for information.

In the run-up to the 1988 uprising, the Burmese-language radio services of the BBC and VOA played a critical role, virtually coordinating public protests by disseminating information about the riot police’s brutality against students and the country’s economic crisis. In the 2007 Saffron Revolution, the protesters had the advantage of significantly increased media access and information technology, and thereby managed to broaden the protests. When the regime cracked down on the Buddhist monk-led protests, the pictures and video footage of the marching and killing were sent to the outside world via the Internet, increasing the protesters’ leverage both at the time and for the future.

In contrast, one way in which opposition activists lose leverage is by focusing too much on their own political demands—such as the transfer of power to the NLD due to its victory in the 1990 election—or on political dialogue that is not perceived to be directly related to the people’s daily struggle for survival. When the opposition becomes self-centered, leverage is diminished because the public becomes indifferent to politics and leaves the activists on their own to achieve their personal political demands.

Endgame Strategy

One of the crucial reasons the 8-8-88 mass uprising failed was that the opposition did not provide the strategic leadership necessary to achieve the endgame of regime change. When the street protests reached their peak in late August through September 18, government mechanisms collapsed. However, the opposition leaders did not unify and either create or seize the opportunity for regime change or negotiated transition in the power vacuum.

Burma’s opposition leadership has always been enthusiastic when it comes to mobilizing mass movements, but has failed to capitalize and achieve the intended results when protests have reached their crescendo. In other words, the opposition always tries hard to achieve the means (instigating a mass movement) as if that is the end in itself.

While public pressure alone can challenge the status quo, whether a public movement leads to a genuine political transition depends on whether the opposition employs an effective endgame strategy. Of course, mass movements will remain the sine qua non for Burma’s opposition so long as the intransigent regime refuses to initiate inclusive political reform.

In summary, the question of relevancy for Burmese opposition groups must be viewed from two perspectives: their legitimacy and the outcome of their effort. At this time, it appears that while the opposition groups will remain relevant in terms of public support and legitimacy, they will have to improve their performance with respect to their ability to maintain resilience, obtain leverage and formulate effective endgame strategies.

This will require opposition groups to diversify their repertoire, adopt tactical innovations, persuade influential third parties to support their cause, broaden their social base and balance between a principle-based and an interest-based approach. If able to do so, they will not only increase the likelihood of accomplishing their goals, they will increase their relevance far beyond their current moral legitimacy.

Hindsight might not be merciful, but it helps break the cycle of repeating the same thing over and over while expecting different results. Moreover, it helps in the process of exiting the mindset of nostalgia and entering the forward-looking strategic realm, which is exactly what the generation that lead Burma’s 1988 popular movement must do to make themselves relevant in the country’s current political landscape.



Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Burma’s Road to 3G Democracy






Wednesday, July 14, 2010


By MIN ZIN


Writing about the French Revolution, Alexis de Tocqueville observed in the 19th century that “the most perilous moment for bad government is when it seeks to mend its ways.” As evidenced by the break-up of the Soviet Union and the end of the Apartheid regime in South Africa, his theory still proves correct two-hundred years later.


Today in Burma, Snr-Gen Than Shwe's military junta is superficially purporting to mend its ways by calling an election. Is this a potentially perilous moment for his regime? Or is it just another sign of resilient tyranny?

Burmese history instructs that the perceived prospect of an opening in the country's closed political system, or of a political realignment, emboldens the public to rally behind opposition movements and against the regime.

For example, in 1988, Ne Win’s unexpected resignation, and his support of a change from one-party rule to a multiparty system, greatly boosted the public’s expectation and confidence that meaningful reform could occur and helped the opposition groups rally public support behind their causes.

But the political environment surrounding the 2010 elections may not provide a similar strategic opening for opposition groups to expand their political space. This time around, Than Shwe has taken every possible measure to send a clear signal to the people of Burma that there will be no real change in power after the 2010 elections, and the public should not entertain any false hopes.

For one thing, Than Shwe is revealing his election plan step-by-step, including the yet-to-be-announced election date, in order to show both that he is in complete control of the pace of the campaign and that the election will not be a momentous event.

In addition, the 2008 constitution, the 2010 election laws, recent Election Commission directives and the press censorship board’s increased restrictions on election coverage by local journals have confirmed that the elections are not an opportunity for regime transition, let alone change. Instead, they are a sly attempt to achieve regime durability.

But election cheerleaders, including some diplomats, foreign experts, think-tank groups and, of course, domestic apologists, keep screaming that the 2010 elections could bring some form of political liberalization, and for that reason both the opposition parties and the general public should participate.

Their arguments follow three related lines of discourse: “The election is the only game in town”; “Something is better than nothing”; and “National League for Democracy (NLD) members are not the only democrats in Burma.”

The question we must ask with respect to each argument is: Will participation in the election for this reason lead to genuine political transition and economic development, or will it help provide the semblance of legitimacy the junta craves?


The Election is the only Game in Town

Wrong. To begin with, it cannot be claimed that the election is the only game in town when most of the main opposition parties have chosen not to participate. Even if the 2010 elections, and the new government based on the 2008 Constitution, were the only game in town, they would not provide the path to meaningful reform in Burma because they would not bring about the required state-building effort, a process in which all key parties—democratic opposition groups as well as ethnic resistance groups—rally together and make their voices heard.

The NLD, who won the 1990 election by a landslide, decided not to renew its party registration under the regime’s “unjust election laws” and not to contest the elections. In addition, no less than ten ethnic ceasefire groups refused to disarm and join the elections.

Several of these ceasefire groups held a meeting in May at the headquarters of the United Wa State Army near the China-Burma border, during which the groups reportedly agreed, for their own reasons, to support the NLD’s decision not to compete in the election—saying that an election under the 2008 Constitution would offer no guarantee of ethnic rights in Burma.

As the intractable conflicts between the regime and the NLD and the armed ethnic groups linger on, the center of political gravity will not likely shift toward the regime’s election game plan. Especially given the fact that, according to several media reports, public interest in the 2010 election is very low.

If history serves as a guide, the 2010 elections could be compared to Burma's 1920s dyarchy elections, organized by the British colonial rulers in an unsuccessful attempt to pacify the country’s nationalistic surge. The opposition parties did not deem this election the only game in town, and some boycotted the polls. When the pro-independence conflicts continued following the election, the boycott did not cost its advocates, who had held their moral high ground.

A contrasting historical example is the 1947 election, which differed significantly from the dyarchy elections because two key players—the British colonizers and the Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League (AFPFL) led by Aung San—reached a prior agreement to hold the elections as a power-sharing step toward independence.

Under these circumstances, although the 1947 election may not have been the only game in town, it was a mainstream political game. Therefore, parties such as the Red-flag Communist Party of Burma, the Karen National Union and U Saw’s Myochit (Patriotic) Party that boycotted the election suffered the cost of being sidelined from mainstream politics.

Burma's history, therefore, appears to instruct that a consensus between key opposing players on the process and goal of transition is a prerequisite to making an election credible and its outcome legitimate. Only then will polls deescalate conflicts. And only then will they be “the only game in town.”

There is certainly no such consensus in 2010, nor does one appear to be on the horizon.

In an article that appeared in The Irrawaddy online in early 2008 (The 2010 Election Challenges ), this author argued that the incompatible goals of the military elite and the opposition, including ethnic minorities, will not be transformed by the new Constitution and the 2010 election. The regime's imposition of the one-sided 2008 Constitution and the unfair process being played out for the upcoming 2010 elections will not likely minimize the cost of conflict for the military. The most visible costs will be the continuation of international isolation and further damage to the country's economy.

The opposition—democratic forces as well as ethnic groups—will continue to fight for the goal of national reconciliation and ethnic autonomy, but they understand that they are likely to find themselves ineffective within the new government's institutional procedures that favor the military's domination.

Therefore, the opposition groups will have to pursue alternative courses of action following the election, including public mobilization, international advocacy and possibly even renewal of guerrilla warfare in the borderlands. And the generals will use the same method of coercion against the people even after the 2010 election, so the existing grievances and public hostility towards the military will be compounded and antagonistic civil-military relations will continue.

In fact, political transition is not likely to take place within the framework of a military-imposed constitution. Even amendments made to the constitution in the hope of gradual reform will not be possible within military-dominated parliamentary debate and a new power arrangement. Such reform could happen only if the status-quo is challenged by public pressure from the outside and a negotiated settlement is reached with the military.

Thus, the NLD was right when it argued that the regime's proposed election is not the only game in town, and was right not to re-register and contest an election governed by unfair and unjust election laws that bar more than 2,000 political prisoners from the electoral process, including NLD party leader Daw Aung San Suu Kyi.

However, although the election is clearly not the only game in town, it is one front being fought in the opposition's overall battle for democracy and human rights. Thus, as this author argued in The Irrawaddy more than one year ago (Burma’s Opposition Must Wage Proxy Fight ), the NLD was wrong in its unwillingness or incapacity to diversify its pro-democracy struggles and avoid a split within the party by setting up or at least allowing a proxy party to exist.

In this respect, the NLD itself could learn a lesson from the history of Burma's independence struggle.

In 1936, the radical group Dobama Asiayone (We Burman Association) formed the Komin Kochi (Our King, Our People) party as its proxy to contest that year's elections with the aim of fighting against the existing order from within parliament as well as from without. Although Komin Kochin won only three seats in the election, their formation of a proxy attempt demonstrates that even the most radical opposition elements realize that it is worthwhile to diversify one’s struggle, especially when it helps to hold an opposition party together.

But the NLD leadership, instead of allowing (or even encouraging) those who would like to set up a political party to contest the 2010 elections, vilified the moderates within the group and caused the split.

It seems that the NLD leadership is not strategic enough to be aware of the advantages the whole movement could gain by franchising the forms of its struggle, rather than centralizing them. Their tendency to put all of their eggs in one basket led to a strategic blunder that could have long-term consequences for the opposition.

Broadly speaking, however, it would not be fair to assume such a policy decision was solely the outcome of the NLD leadership’s independent choice. In Burma's political environment, responses are shaped not only by past repression and grievances, but also by political culture, and this illiberal environment strengthens value-loaded or principle-centric cultural norms that lead to inflexible decision making.

In addition, it should be cautioned that even if the NLD leaders were strategically savvy enough to diversify the forms of their struggle, positive results would not be guaranteed.

For instance, it is widely believed that Kachin Independence Organization (KIO)’s attempts to diversify their struggles by forming proxy Kachin parties such as the Kachin State Progressive Party, the Northern Shan State Progressive Party and the United Democracy Party (Kachin State), have thus far been unsuccessful because the regime’s election commission has delayed the approval of these parties.

A proxy party even informally blessed by the NLD leadership may have met the same fate. However, it should not have stopped the NLD from making a worthwhile attempt at strategic franchising, at least to avoid the split.

Something is better than nothing

That depends on how the election cheerleaders define “something.”

It is understandable that people living in the pluralistic Western world get excited when they hear the word “election.” However, the junta's election will not unleash a torrent of political changes and are not a panacea that will heal past wounds. They are a ploy to prolong and legalize the military regime's rule indefinitely.

The 2010 elections will, however, contribute to changes in the format of governance. The military regime has extensive experience with dictatorial, one-party rule, but the governing format following the election will be a new experiment for them. The new government will be a hybrid with two power centers—military and political. Regardless of who pulls the strings, this could lead to either a serious internal split or miserable inefficiency of the ruling body.

In other words, there will be tensions between the regime's desire for military supremacy and the new political procedures required by the hybrid parliamentary system. Will this be a crack in their power base that the opposition can take advantage of?

Although some advocates argue that the new hybrid system is in itself a trend towards liberalization, the nature of the power rivalry within the post-2010 ruling party will not necessarily lead to a new opening for the opposition groups in the short run, or democratization in the long run.

Even if it does eventually lead to democratic reforms, the question is how long will this process take? It may be too long to have any strategic relevance for opposition movements operating within the country and abroad, and for the long-suffering people of Burma.

Since the new Constitution has placed the military atop an untouchable altar, the tragic conditions that have led to extreme poverty, forced relocation, forced labor, child soldiers, political prisoners, internally displaced persons, refugees flooding into neighboring countries, rape and other human rights violations—all of which are associated with the military's unchecked power, interests and behavior—will remain unresolved.

The 2010 elections will not even bring meaningful economic reforms, because the military and its cronies will continue to disrupt and distort the country's market economy, such as it is.

And since the elected parliament’s legislative power will be restricted and because it will not be able to oversee the military or the military-backed Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP), no civilian mechanisms will be available to redress the continued corruption and economic mismanagement.

In addition, unless the military concedes the ceasefire status quo in ethnic areas, or makes some accommodations in its forced disarmament strategy, after the election the prospect of negotiated political resolution with major ethnic ceasefire groups will remain bleak, and therefore the risk of renewed civil war, or widespread guerrilla warfare, cannot be ruled out.

So what exactly is the “something” that is better than nothing that the election cheerleaders envision resulting from the election?

It seems obvious that these advocates (especially foreign observers) apply the O’Donnell/Schmitter textbook approach to Burma without understanding or considering Burmese history and political culture.

They claim that it is pragmatic to promote the theory that elections—no matter how flawed—have a slippery slope tendency toward democratization and therefore could be a path to change and liberalization. Then they mock the committed activists inside Burma as an irrelevant force.

But the cheerleaders’ overstatement of the election’s significance in the Burmese context, and their optimistic, linear view of liberalization and follow-up democratization, is theoretically simplistic and does not conform to Burmese history.

The pro-election advocates who believe that just getting a foot in the door is an important step should pay heed to Aleksandr Gelman’s warning that: “Liberalization is an unclenched fist, but the hand is the same and at any moment it could be clenched again into a fist.”

NLD members are not the only democrats in Burma

This is True. Not every democrat in Burma is or was an NLD member. And the emergence of political parties, no matter how limited the political space they have to operate, is something to encourage because it may lead to political competition.

But it does not necessarily follow that every new party that is not directly aligned with the regime represents the public interest and will positively influence the direction and power structure of the country.

In fact, advocating this position is tricky, because it is basically an extension of the “third force” argument.

The “third force” refers to an array of groups who claim to steer a neutral path between the NLD and the regime. Most of these groups, however, lean more toward the positions of the junta in their outspoken anti-sanction views and open support for the 2010 elections.

When the election laws were published, many old faces resurfaced and resumed their political activities. Excluding the junta-backed USDP party and its cronies-turned-candidates, most of the newly formed political parties under regime’s election laws are being founded by former activists, NLD splinters and small ethnic groups.

Any attempt at lumping them together and promoting them as the new opposition, however, is at best premature optimism and at worst an ill-conceived attempt to undermine the role of committed activists from the NLD, the Shan National League for Democracy, the 88 Generation Students and the monks.

Unlike these groups, who have long struggled for democracy and human rights in Burma, the so-called “new players” do not speak out against injustices suffered by the citizens at the hands of junta, let alone represent and fight for the rights of the general public.

It is not the “emerging new players” who are struggling to combat forced relocation, forced labor, child soldiers or HIV/AIDS on the ground level. And it is not the third force parties who are calling for national reconciliation as a necessary goal for the country’s future direction. It is still the NLD and their supporters who are at the forefront in representing and fighting for the public.

In fact, third force advocates, both domestic and abroad, snipe at the NLD's grassroots struggles, claiming they are confrontational, failed stances. This is nothing more than elitist arrogance.

Moreover, the emergence of civilian players will not necessarily promote a liberal environment and values such as tolerance under the new hybrid system.

The most intimate example from Burmese history is that of the pre-war politicians, with whom the British shared power from the 1920s through the 1930s. It was U Saw, the native Burmese civilian premier, who called upon the British Governor in the early 1940s to take repressive actions against “extreme politicians” in order to avoid disorder, and later ended up assassinating Aung San and his cabinet members in 1947.

Paul Collier was dead right when he claimed that democratic politics as often practiced in the countries of “the bottom billion” (i.e. hybrid systems that allow elections with repression) tends to attract candidates with criminal records.

And those who promote the option of emerging third force players without stating clearly what it means to be a democrat confuse the moral clarity of people’s struggle against dictatorship.


Than Shwe's 3G Democracy

The debate about whether participation in the upcoming election is a legitimate means to accomplishing opposition goals is both healthy and necessary, but it should not be forgotten that while pro-democracy, human rights and ethnic rights advocates are arguing among themselves, Than Shwe is not wasting any time fueling his “disciplined-flourishing democracy” with the 3 Gs of of Guns, Goons and Gas.

From killing his own citizens when it suits his purposes to the pursuit of nuclear weapons that threaten neighboring countries; from the thugs of the Union Solidarity and Development Association and Swan Arr Shin to the ex-military candidates of the newly formed USDP; and from selling off the hydrocarbon and other natural resources of his country to promote his personal interests, Than Shwe is determined to utilize all means necessary to prove de Tocqueville’s theory wrong in 21st century Burma and hold onto power.

No matter if the regime is clenching or unclenching its fist, the dictator-in-chief is making sure that it is his hand at work. Some may see participation in the elections as an opportunity to sever that hand. But more likely they are simply playing into it, and they risk being crushed when the fist clenches once more.

Min Zin is a Burmese journalist living in exile.



Saturday, February 6, 2010

Op-ed, The Irrawaddy, Saturday, February 6, 2010


The Case for China's Intervention in Burma

By Min Zin


In the aftermath of Burma's 2007 "Saffron Revolution" and the military's subsequent crackdown, China has been increasingly pressured to assume a larger role in helping to resolve Burma's crisis.

A gathering cloud of myth however, has formed with regard to Beijing's policy on Burma, indicating that China has limited sway with the military junta’s generals and that Burmese activists and their advocates in the West overestimated China's influence on the generals.

This view is simply wrong or, at worst, Chinese propaganda. Of course China has more power and influence on the generals than any other country. The question is whether the Chinese Communist government wants to use its leverage to facilitate change in Burma. It does not mean that China is the patron that pulls the strings, and the self-isolated, delusive Burmese regime is its puppet.

The generals are highly aware of China's overwhelming strategic weight over Burma and appear eager to diversify and reduce its dependence on China since the mid-1990s. The junta may manage to reduce its military and economic over-reliance on China, but China's political and diplomatic protection remains indispensable to the regime's survival. Moreover, China's influence over the ethnic cease-fire groups in northeastern Burma that borders China's southwestern province could complicate relations between two countries.

If Beijing chose an uncooperative policy toward Burma in the latter's handling of its ethnic groups, the regime's state-building effort would face a serious hurdle. Therefore, the regime has no choice (no matter whether its intentions indicate otherwise) but to rely on China for political and diplomatic protection and cooperation. In other words, Burma's dependency on China is the consequence––by default––of the junta's struggle for survival rather than its stated intentions, such as nationalism and Sinophobia.

Therefore, China has leverage not only in terms of its provision of carrots, but also in terms of the sticks it can wield to hurt the regime. But China has not used its stick to poke the generals toward change at least for two reasons: first, China does not want Western-style democratization on its southern flank; and second, Beijing does not want to be seen as a "threat" to its neighbors.

Although China wants to see economic reform taking place in Burma, China has almost no sympathy for Burma's democratic crusade and its advocates; Beijing considers them too close to the West. China does not have confidence in the opposition's capacity to maintain stability in the divisive nation. And more importantly, China has also gained unrivaled economic advantages by supporting the pariah regime.

The second reason for not using its leverage is related to China's geopolitical strategy that aims to undermine the feasibility and desirability of a US policy of containment mainly by forging solid working relations with its smaller neighbors and other major powers.

While China continued its program of economic and military modernization through the 1990s, it wants to minimize the risk that others, most notably the member-states of the Association of Southeast Asia Nations (Asean), will view China as an unacceptably dangerous threat which must be parried or perhaps even forestalled.

If China continued to meddle in Burma's affairs in the 1990s the way it backed Burmese communist insurgents in the late 1960s and 1970s, it would stir grave concerns in Asean. China would be viewed as a bully.

These concerns would coincide with the current South China Sea dispute between China and some Asean members over territorial claims and resources. China's leaders have decided to follow Deng Xiaoping's cryptic instruction: "Hide our capacities and bide our time, but also get some things done." (tao guang yang hui you suo zuo hui). China has adopted an opportunistic foreign policy of maintaining relations with any government that would remain friendly to China and serve China's security and economic interests, irrespective of that government's propensity for reform.

However, this policy of self-serving pragmatism appears to be more and more untenable for at least two reasons. First, it puts China in a difficult dilemma whenever the Burmese regime faces serious vulnerability in domestic power shifts. For instance, Beijing found itself in policy confusion when the opposition National League for Democracy won a landslide victory in the 1990 multi-party elections.

During the Buddhist monk-led protests in 2007, China similarly faced an uneasy situation.


Since former Prime Minister Khin Nyunt, who China viewed as "Burma's Musharraf," was purged in 2004, China has felt itself losing its grip on the regime's power establishment and has become increasingly frustrated with Snr-Gen Than Shwe's manipulative foreign policy.

In the wake of Khin Nyunt's fall from grace, Than Shwe visited India and agreed to the latter's bid for a UN Security Council seat. He later backtracked on that policy. The junta chief also reached out to Russia and North Korea, another gesture that irritated the Chinese. To top it off, Burma recently chose to buy a fleet of Russian MiG-29 fighter jets, despite China's offer to sell its latest J-10 and FC-1 fighters at a bargain price.

While Beijing's communist bureaucrats may be able to remain indifferent to the casualties of Burma's "Saffron Revolution," they cannot underestimate the high stakes resulting from the Burmese army's attacks on ethnic cease-fire groups along its border. The Burmese junta's recent military offensive against the Han-blooded Kokang resulted in a massive influx of refugees into China.

Indeed, the policy of "contained Balkanization" in Burma could lead to a resumption of localized armed conflicts between certain ethnic cease-fire groups and the Burmese army. Since the most volatile areas are around the Sino-Burmese border, where formidable Wa and Kachin ethnic armies are based, China is likely to face increased instability in its southwest and consequential disruptions of its economic and strategic interests.

The risk is imminent and urgent because the regime has set 2010 as an election year and has to impose a deadline on cease-fire groups joining the Burmese army's Border Guard Forces.

The military's abusive dealings with the pro-democracy opposition and ethnic groups have also drawn China into the international spotlight; its opportunistic foreign policy toward Burma has been challenged in the international arena.

This is the second reason why the policy is increasingly unsustainable. Burma has become a source of embarrassment for the Chinese leadership who would prefer to avoid being constantly associated with the brutal dictators in neighboring Burma.

According to Chinese sources, after the “Saffron Revolution” erupted in September 2007, Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao contacted US President George W. Bush, Japanese Prime Minister Fukuda Yasuo and British Prime Minister Gordon Brown by phone to discuss the situation and which measures to take. China eventually agreed to the issuance of a UNSC Presidential Statement in October 2007, and its usage of the expression "strongly deplores the use of violence against peaceful demonstrations in Myanmar." China facilitated UN Envoy for Burma Ibrahim Gambari's first visit to Rangoon. In short, China's new role in the international system obliges the country to reexamine its purely opportunistic foreign policy.

While low-key foreign policy does not influence the events taking place a few kilometers across China's border, such as the junta's attack on the Kokang, Beijing has resolved to review its foreign policy. Sources confirm that China has now set up a "Fact-finding Commission" on last year's Kokang conflict and its impact on China.

If Beijing manages to facilitate a genuine reconciliation in Burma, it will serve China's interest.

Some may argue that there are two disincentives for China to modify its current policy. First, the junta may retaliate by disrupting economic cooperation with China (for instance, the gas pipeline deal). The second factor would be with respect to Washington's new policy toward the junta.

The first option would be suicidal for Than Shwe since his regime can't afford the return of a late 1960s scenario in Sino-Burmese relations. And the second factor is a grave concern among China's policy elites.

Dr. Jian Junbo from the influential Institute of International Studies at Fudan University, Shanghai, warned in his Asia Times' article in 2009 that "the US should recognize the fact that China is an important actor in Southeast Asia when it plans its engagement policy in Myanmar, and the US would face great difficulty if it tried to exclude China from its new Myanmar policy."

It is unlikely Asean will object to China's initiative for change in Burma, since the grouping has been disillusioned with its constructive engagement policy to tame the junta, while the relationship between Asean and China has been increasingly strengthened since the 1997 Asian Financial Crisis.

Sen. Jim Webb's "China's threat" view and "containment approach" worry the Chinese.

In fact, Webb's alarmist view that states that China's increasing economic and political influence in Burma could further "a dangerous strategic imbalance in the region" has fallen neatly into the manipulative hands of Than Shwe; he now wants to use his US card to scare the Chinese.

If the highest level leaders of US and Asean make it clear to China that they will coordinate with Beijing to facilitate change in Burma, aiming for minimalist goals which do not radically upset the interests of Naypyidaw and Beijing, China would likely take on the role of working toward national reconciliation in Burma (in more concrete terms, the removal of Than Shwe if the latter resisted.)

If this goal cannot be achieved with persuasion, China may use sticks such as abstention in UNSC or support the status quo (i.e. encouraging ethnic cease-fire groups to resist the Burmese army) as the best fallback policy option. To that end, the US must make the first move: to liaise with China. It will perhaps best serve a common interest and workable task for both countries to refresh the tension-ridden Sino-US relationship which has spiked over the recent sale of US arms to Taiwan, friction over trade, the Dalai Lama and allegations of cyber-spying.

Min Zin is a Burmese journalist in exile and a teaching fellow at the University of California, Berkeley, School of Journalism.





Thursday, September 17, 2009

Cracks in the Castle Wall

Op-ed, The Irrawaddy, SEPTEMBER, 2009 - VOLUME 17 NO.6


Cracks in the Castle Wall


By MIN ZIN

Loopholes in the new Burmese constitution could be exploited by opposition groups to win influence after next year’s election

In politics, a direct, frontal attack is rarely wise; co-opting the opponent’s game plan for one’s own purposes is a more powerful ploy. Opponents of Burma’s military junta should bear this in mind as they consider their strategy for dealing with next year’s election.

Min Zin is a Burmese journalist in exile and a teaching fellow at the University of California, Berkeley, School of Journalism. A longer version of this article is available onwww.irrawaddy.org
Most mainstream opposition groups, including the National League for Democracy (NLD) and major ethnic ceasefire groups, have announced that they will not take part in the 2010 election unless the constitution is revised and the political process is made more inclusive. They say they can’t accept the constitution as it stands because it denies fundamental ethnic rights and allows the military to seize power again “if there arises a state of emergency.”

A closer examination of the junta’s constitution reveals, however, that it is not the impregnable fortress that it at first appears to be. There are a number of weaknesses in the castle battlements that opposition groups can exploit if they are prepared to take a multi-pronged approach.

The first vulnerability lies in the fact that after the 2010 election, there will be two power centers, the military and the government, which will inevitably be at loggerheads over the command structure and personal interests. No matter who pulls the strings, this new power arrangement will lead to either a serious internal split or the inefficiency of the ruling body.

Another Achilles’ heel is the constitution’s de facto demotion of regional military commanders. Although the constitution enshrines ultimate power in the commander in chief of the military, it fails to provide similar authority to regional commanders in their localities. As key pillars in the military regime’s power structure, the regional commanders are like warlords in their domains. However, under the new constitution, they are under the control of the chief ministers of the regions or states, who in many cases may be civilians. This could result in a situation where regional commanders oppose not only local power arrangements but also Naypyidaw’s control.

The third loophole in the constitution is that if non-military parties sweep to victory or win a clear majority of the 75 percent of seats not reserved for the military, a non-military candidate could become president. Failing this, non-military parties could gain control of the legislative agenda, giving them influence over everything from defense and foreign affairs to the economic and social sectors. Thus Snr-Gen Than Shwe, who leads the ruling junta, appears to be determined to fill the remaining parliamentary seats with members of a military-backed political party based upon the membership of the Union Solidarity and Development Association (USDA), a mass organization formed by the junta in September 1993.

Snr-Gen Than Shwe votes in the referundum election on the new constitution.
However, this leads to the fourth problem facing the regime. As a political party, the USDA’s existing nationwide organizational structure (and its thuggish reputation, which could be used to intimidate voters) would give it a great advantage in the 2010 election. The problem is that the new constitution bars parliamentary candidates from receiving any support directly or indirectly from the state. As the USDA currently enjoys such advantages, it would run afoul of the regime’s own constitution if it sought to field candidates in the election.

Therefore, if the military wants to create a new political party or parties, it must ensure that they do not bear any resemblance to the USDA in terms of name recognition, resources or intimidating power.

Perhaps these concerns are the reason the regime keeps delaying the promulgation of the electoral law, which was reportedly ready to be published early this year: Than Shwe wants more time to secure his bet for more power. Meanwhile, however, the credibility of the election and the legitimacy of the new power arrangement it is intended to put in place have already been hurt by the likely non-participation of the NLD and the refusal of several ethnic ceasefire groups to disarm or participate.

In fact, the opposition could create leverage by remaining outside the regime’s election process while opening a new proxy front within the regime’s game plan. Even if opposition groups don’t take part in the election using their current organizational identities, they could set up proxy political parties to participate in the 2010 election. Through these proxy parties, the opposition could attempt to maximize civilian control of the post-election parliament.

At the same time, opposition groups such as the NLD, the New Mon State Party and others must stand strong in opposing the “illegitimate” constitution and election and continue their fight for genuine reconciliation. Just because they loathe the undemocratic constitution, the opposition should not consider total disengagement from mainstream politics. The opposition must be savvy in combining both inside-out and outside-in strategies to usher in political change.

In fact, the formation of proxy parties and participation in the 2010 election will help prevent a split within the opposition groups. Otherwise, policy disagreements between moderates and radical activists within the NLD as well as individual ethnic groups might lead to open splits when the election law comes out and the junta plays more rounds of divide and rule. Proxy tactics could also help bring new recruits to the opposition movement.
However, no one should harbor any illusion that the presence of opposition proxy parties in the 2010 election will spark a magical power shift to civilian control. That will happen only if there is sufficient public pressure to challenge the military-dominated status quo, forcing the military to negotiate with the opposition, which would then be in a position to push for a genuine transition to democratic rule.

Another factor that could determine the success or failure of the approach outlined here is the ability of non-military MPs to maintain a sense of common purpose. There is a danger that parochial interests will blind non-military MPs to broader issues, or that self-interest will lead them to compromise their reform agenda. Non-military MPs would not necessarily form a monolithic bloc or be unanimous in their approach to the military’s domination. Vote rigging and intimidation in the election could further undermine the chances of a genuine opposition presence in the parliament.

That said, however, the contradictions embedded in the constitution will provide unprecedented opportunities for those who seek to break the military’s hold on power. If a moderate military leadership emerges in a post-Than Shwe era, those proxy MPs and ministers who are in the mainstream can work with them for gradual reform. In the event of mass demonstrations on the streets, proxy parties will be well-placed to play a role.

The opposition should be creative in opening a new proxy front as part of a multi-pronged strategy to exploit the cracks in the junta’s fortress.


Min Zin is a Burmese journalist in exile and a teaching fellow at the University of California, Berkeley, School of Journalism.

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