WPR
Tuesday, Nov. 3, 2020
Myanmar’s de facto leader, Aung San Suu Kyi, attends a ceremony at the National League for Democracy’s temporary headquarters in Naypyitaw, Myanmar, Sept. 8, 2020 (AP photo by Aung Shine Oo).
Myanmar is preparing to hold general elections this Sunday, an occasion that might have marked a significant milestone in its ongoing transition from decades of military rule. The previous polls, in 2015, saw Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy finally win the presidency and a majority of seats in parliament, following the dissolution of the military junta in 2011. Hopes were high that Suu Kyi, who is now Myanmar’s de facto leader, would usher in a new era of peace and expanded freedoms. Yet the consensus today is that Myanmar’s democratic transition has stalled—if it can even be said to be transitioning at all.
On many counts, Suu Kyi and the NLD have overseen the return of repression to the country. The number of politically motivated lawsuits—against journalists, civil society members, activists and ordinary citizens—has been increasing steadily each year, according to a 2019 report by Athan, a Myanmar-based advocacy group. More than 500 people are awaiting trial on politically motivated charges; 180 of them languish in pretrial detention. Social media users have even been prosecuted for criticizing the government on Facebook.
Journalists who report on taboo issues—especially the brutal persecution of the Rohingya, a predominantly Muslim ethnic minority—endure legal threats from military and NLD officials alike. Over the summer, COVID-19 became one of those taboo topics when the Transportation and Communications Ministry issued an order blocking 221 independent news sites for allegedly sharing “fake news” about the pandemic. Many of the blocked sites served the country’s ethnic minority populations, which have long felt alienated from the national government. All the while, Suu Kyi has continued to use state media outlets, which she had promised to disband upon her and her party’s election, as propaganda mouthpieces.
She has also used her position of power to shield the military from accusations of ethnic cleansing against the Rohingya, nearly a million of whom are still internally displaced in Myanmar or living in refugee camps in Bangladesh, across the border. The Nobel Peace Prize winner even traveled to the International Court of Justice in The Hague last year to defend the army in a genocide case against it.
As the prominent Rohingya activist Tun Khin noted in a recent op-ed for The Washington Post, observers should “not be fooled” by the exercise of elections this weekend, as “real democracy will remain elusive in a country that cannot acknowledge its own role in the mass persecution of its own citizens.”
Indeed, the run-up to the polls thus far has been rife with irregularities. Authorities have cancelled the vote in states with high concentrations of ethnic minorities, citing security concerns; removed several of the NLD’s opponents from the ballot or restricted their campaign activities; and prevented independent monitoring of the voting process. A recent surge in coronavirus cases led some opposition parties to call for the election to be postponed, citing public health concerns and the difficulty smaller parties have had running campaigns during the pandemic. The idea was roundly rejected by Suu Kyi, who said the vote “was more important than COVID.” All this has tilted the playing field to the detriment of those smaller parties, many of which represent ethnic minorities.
This is despite the fact that the ruling party—which remains very popular among Myanmar’s majority ethnic group, the Bamar—is almost certain to win a majority of the vote. NLD politicians “don’t need to do these things that they’re doing. They don’t need to take these steps against ethnic and other small political parties. It makes the election less free and fair, and they’re going to win anyway,” said Mark Farmaner, director of the advocacy group Burma Campaign U.K., in an interview. “It’s indicative of their complete intolerance of criticism and opposition.”
Journalists who report on taboo issues—especially the brutal persecution of the Rohingya, a predominantly Muslim ethnic minority—endure legal threats from military and NLD officials alike. Over the summer, COVID-19 became one of those taboo topics when the Transportation and Communications Ministry issued an order blocking 221 independent news sites for allegedly sharing “fake news” about the pandemic. Many of the blocked sites served the country’s ethnic minority populations, which have long felt alienated from the national government. All the while, Suu Kyi has continued to use state media outlets, which she had promised to disband upon her and her party’s election, as propaganda mouthpieces.
She has also used her position of power to shield the military from accusations of ethnic cleansing against the Rohingya, nearly a million of whom are still internally displaced in Myanmar or living in refugee camps in Bangladesh, across the border. The Nobel Peace Prize winner even traveled to the International Court of Justice in The Hague last year to defend the army in a genocide case against it.
As the prominent Rohingya activist Tun Khin noted in a recent op-ed for The Washington Post, observers should “not be fooled” by the exercise of elections this weekend, as “real democracy will remain elusive in a country that cannot acknowledge its own role in the mass persecution of its own citizens.”
Indeed, the run-up to the polls thus far has been rife with irregularities. Authorities have cancelled the vote in states with high concentrations of ethnic minorities, citing security concerns; removed several of the NLD’s opponents from the ballot or restricted their campaign activities; and prevented independent monitoring of the voting process. A recent surge in coronavirus cases led some opposition parties to call for the election to be postponed, citing public health concerns and the difficulty smaller parties have had running campaigns during the pandemic. The idea was roundly rejected by Suu Kyi, who said the vote “was more important than COVID.” All this has tilted the playing field to the detriment of those smaller parties, many of which represent ethnic minorities.
This is despite the fact that the ruling party—which remains very popular among Myanmar’s majority ethnic group, the Bamar—is almost certain to win a majority of the vote. NLD politicians “don’t need to do these things that they’re doing. They don’t need to take these steps against ethnic and other small political parties. It makes the election less free and fair, and they’re going to win anyway,” said Mark Farmaner, director of the advocacy group Burma Campaign U.K., in an interview. “It’s indicative of their complete intolerance of criticism and opposition.”
The consensus today is that Myanmar’s democratic transition has stalled—if it can even be said to be transitioning at all.
Many Myanmar voters are losing interest in the political process, recent polls show. And a report from the International Crisis Group warned that in the short term, dissatisfaction with the election’s results could stoke grievances among ethnic minorities, and even increase support for the armed ethnic groups that are fighting the government for greater autonomy.
In the longer term, experts warn that the lack of faith in the political system and the lack of a robust public debate about Myanmar’s political direction will prevent the country from addressing its most pressing challenges, from civil conflict to climate change. “It would be wrong to focus on democracy in a very narrow sense,” by fixating solely on elections, historian Thant Myint-U told the Financial Times. “Should we be a country that links very tightly to China markets or not? Should we be a country that has more protectionist policies to allow industries to grow? Should we have a new Green New Deal after the pandemic? These are issues that should be publicly debated, and I think those are issues that will give content to our democracy.”
To some extent, establishing true democracy in Myanmar is a practical impossibility under its 2008 constitution, which was drafted by the junta and established a quasi-civilian government that reserves significant powers for the military. In addition to filling a quarter of the seats in the legislature, the military controls the Ministries of Defense, Home Affairs and Border Affairs. Changing any of this, or reforming the electoral system, as the International Crisis Group recommends, would require a constitutional amendment. But since such changes require a three-quarters majority of votes in parliament, the military’s 25-percent share of seats gives it veto power over amendments—a power it used to shoot down several such changes earlier this year that would have decreased its influence.
But reforms are still possible within these constitutional limits, according to Farmaner. The president, Win Myint, who is an NLD member, could pardon political prisoners. With its parliamentary majority, the NLD could amend the laws regularly used to persecute dissenters and limit peaceful protest. It could support a free press and dismantle state media outlets. It could include more ethnic minority leaders among its ranks, seek alliances and coalitions with smaller parties, and fill regional, appointed posts with officials from parties that win local elections, instead of with NLD members. It could amend the laws that have deprived the Rohingya of citizenship, and take a stand against the military’s violent campaigns against them. Clearly, however, it has found these measures useful to maintaining or expanding its own hold on power.
“I know that there are people trying to make excuses for the NLD, but the fact is that they do have this power, and they can exercise it, and they are choosing not to,” Farmaner said. “And not only have they chosen not to, but we’ve seen the NLD government itself also using these repressive laws to harass, threaten, jail and arrest critics.” He added that the upcoming election “should be the final nail in the coffin of the narrative that there is a democratic transition going on.”
Given its actions so far, it’s not likely that the NLD will pursue any of these reforms in its next five years in power—at least, not without significant domestic and international pressure. Meanwhile, as Tun Khin warned, “the United States and the rest of the international community should not fall for this charade” of an election.
Prachi Vidwans is an associate editor at World Politics Review.
In the longer term, experts warn that the lack of faith in the political system and the lack of a robust public debate about Myanmar’s political direction will prevent the country from addressing its most pressing challenges, from civil conflict to climate change. “It would be wrong to focus on democracy in a very narrow sense,” by fixating solely on elections, historian Thant Myint-U told the Financial Times. “Should we be a country that links very tightly to China markets or not? Should we be a country that has more protectionist policies to allow industries to grow? Should we have a new Green New Deal after the pandemic? These are issues that should be publicly debated, and I think those are issues that will give content to our democracy.”
To some extent, establishing true democracy in Myanmar is a practical impossibility under its 2008 constitution, which was drafted by the junta and established a quasi-civilian government that reserves significant powers for the military. In addition to filling a quarter of the seats in the legislature, the military controls the Ministries of Defense, Home Affairs and Border Affairs. Changing any of this, or reforming the electoral system, as the International Crisis Group recommends, would require a constitutional amendment. But since such changes require a three-quarters majority of votes in parliament, the military’s 25-percent share of seats gives it veto power over amendments—a power it used to shoot down several such changes earlier this year that would have decreased its influence.
But reforms are still possible within these constitutional limits, according to Farmaner. The president, Win Myint, who is an NLD member, could pardon political prisoners. With its parliamentary majority, the NLD could amend the laws regularly used to persecute dissenters and limit peaceful protest. It could support a free press and dismantle state media outlets. It could include more ethnic minority leaders among its ranks, seek alliances and coalitions with smaller parties, and fill regional, appointed posts with officials from parties that win local elections, instead of with NLD members. It could amend the laws that have deprived the Rohingya of citizenship, and take a stand against the military’s violent campaigns against them. Clearly, however, it has found these measures useful to maintaining or expanding its own hold on power.
“I know that there are people trying to make excuses for the NLD, but the fact is that they do have this power, and they can exercise it, and they are choosing not to,” Farmaner said. “And not only have they chosen not to, but we’ve seen the NLD government itself also using these repressive laws to harass, threaten, jail and arrest critics.” He added that the upcoming election “should be the final nail in the coffin of the narrative that there is a democratic transition going on.”
Given its actions so far, it’s not likely that the NLD will pursue any of these reforms in its next five years in power—at least, not without significant domestic and international pressure. Meanwhile, as Tun Khin warned, “the United States and the rest of the international community should not fall for this charade” of an election.
Prachi Vidwans is an associate editor at World Politics Review.
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