If you want to discuss politics in Myanmar, even far-away American politics, you don't meet in a popular restaurant for a chat over lunch. You wouldn't pick up a phone and call a friend for an engaging discussion. If you did, you would probably find yourself being followed, monitored and, if you kept it up, arrested and thrown in prison for four to seven years. To discuss politics in Myanmar is risky business. It is mostly done outdoors, at night, sitting at low tables, on tiny stools at street corner teashops. This is where people gather to talk about politics and any other issue that you might not want overheard by the wrong person--namely a government informer. Teashop proprietors set up large speakers that blare heavy metal and hip hop tunes--the perfect din to conceal any questionable conversations. This is the reality of living in Myanmar, where it is believed one in five "citizens" is informing for military intelligence, or M.I., as it is ubiquitously known.
Usually these closely-guarded conversations focus on national, local, or personal questions. Who is M.I. and who is not? What sort of power structure shifts might be stirring among the country's ruling generals? Which underground market has the cheapest gas this week? A trio huddled around a teashop table might be trying to distinguish rumor from fact. Are rebels in Shan State really beating back Burmese forces? Are the monks really organizing for another round of protests next month? Is Aung San Suu Kyi really on a hunger strike? Is your brother really still in prison? Was General Than Shwe really secreted out to Singapore for another emergency surgery? Is electricity really going to be out the rest of the week? These are the sorts of issues that are most often discussed at the teashops--after they've finished discussing the international soccer leagues, of course. American politics doesn't raise an eyebrow here as it once had. However, if there is a little extra time and another pot of tea to finish or a couple extra cheroots to smoke, a few people might make time to discuss America's latest presidential election circus that has permeated even this oft-forgotten corner of the world.
Myanmar has been so closed off from the outside world for so long that international news reports on television often seem more like a Hollywood movie than actual events occurring "outside," somewhere in the world. The local street-side teashops receive nightly reports from government scripted MRTV, but few people listen. A traditionally dressed young woman literally reads the news from the state run newspaper. Perhaps this is to demonstrate that any errors in the reporting are not her fault. Maybe she does not want to inadvertently let slip any subtle suggestions that the news is anything but factual. She reports each night that the country is enjoying record-breaking rice yields thanks to the oversight of such-and-such general and his flawless ministry. The news of the bumper crop doesn't seem to jibe with the high cost of rice and the hungry kids on the streets. But this is all the news on MRTV that is fit to report.
They would superficially cover the American election, highlighting the candidates, their wives and the media circus. They might be quick to report any glaring scandals of corruption, but more often than not they merely gloss over the real political issues. The people don't seem to mind. They have far more important things to worry about than the American presidential election.
Most people are aware of the two candidates' names. Most know that McCain was in a Vietnam prison and that Obama is the black one. They are impressed with the former and too quick to dismiss the latter. In Myanmar society, the dark-skinned are still disadvantaged. Darker-skinned Indians mostly comprise the labor force and are often discriminated against by Myanmar's elite and middle classes. For Myanmar people, it is difficult to take Obama seriously as a candidate. One man asks "why would you want a black man for your leader?" I try to explain that we don't care about race anymore. We look to the substance of the candidate. I believe this, but I can tell he knows there is more to it than that. After a moment, I admit to him what he already hears, that we have places in America where people would never vote for a black man. But I add quickly, they are becoming fewer and fewer. I remind him that Obama went to Harvard. This he knows and he admits he is very impressed as "Harvard is a very good school." As for McCain his Vietnam legacy is less known than Obama's race, but those who do know McCain's story are very impressed by it.
Myanmar people have a long torturous history that would compel them to be impressed by the story of a man held in a cage by enemies, only to survive and become a "big man" himself, even more powerful than his captors. This is the story they hope will come to be for their own national hero, Aung San Suu Kyi. They can appreciate McCain's story far better than any American voter. Yet in reality, they don't have a vote of any kind, so they don't bother speculating much. No one I spoke with realized that McCain had been to Myanmar in 1995. This is probably because he was there to visit with democratic icon Aung San Suu Kyi, and the government wouldn't likely broadcast that information on MRTV.
McCain, in fact, has been by far the most outspoken for Myanmar. In 2003, he called for then Secretary of State Colin Powell to boycott a trip to the region and encourage Myanmar's neighbors to increase pressure on the regime to hand over power to the democratically elected party that won elections in 1990. He has since called for increased international sanctions. His wife Cindy is an even more out-spoken critic of the regime. In June, she vowed to make human rights in Myanmar an issue if she were to become first lady. She then went on to call the ruling junta "a terrible group of people" who rape and starve their own people.
She may be right, but this sort of name-calling is exactly what has forced the paranoid junta to dig in and cling to empirical, iron-fisted control of the country. This sort of threatening language is what has made them ignore outside pressures and violently maintain their hold on power. They have positioned themselves, uniquely protected by both China and India. They also maintain a valuable economic lifeline with their ASEAN neighbors. The threat of further sanctions by John McCain and the acerbic, albeit accurate, name-calling by Cindy is easily dismissed by the ruling junta. Until China, India or ASEAN starts making threats, they are sitting pretty.
Here might be Obama's opportunity to try a new tack. Throughout the presidential race he has been the candidate who has said that he will engage rogue states, not just shut them out of the game. He has said that he will "not only work with countries we like but also with those we don't." Engagement with the Myanmar junta might be the first step toward real change. After all, it is worth a whole-hearted try. Nothing else has worked for the last forty years.
The citizens have given up on the idea that the US or the UN will come to liberate them like they did for Iraq. Even with their sparse news, they eventually came to see that the US never went there to liberate. This is a popular topic because Myanmar people love to make analogies. In 2003, when the US invaded Iraq, many Myanmar people were elated. They heard George Bush say that we were invading to rid the peace loving people of Iraq of a terrible dictator. The Myanmar people took note, saying, "that's us, too!" When it was decided that Saddam had to go because he killed his own people, they nodded their heads in approval, knowing their leader had done the same. If Iraq was due for regime change, Myanmar clearly had to be very close to next-on-the-list. Then lots and lots of time went by and they saw what was happening in Iraq, or rather what was not happening. There was no blossoming of democracy. The teashop scuttlebutt spun around rumors of "Americans getting richer and Iraqis not getting any freer." Slowly they began to realize that no one was coming to liberate them. There would be no regime change, unless they made a public, international demand for it.
In September 2007, Buddhist monks and university students took to the streets en masse. The people joined them until the streets were filled with hundreds of thousands of citizens screaming Doyay! (democracy). Then the troops came. Just like in 1988, a bloody stamp down on these protesters put a brutal end to their uprising almost as quickly as it had emerged. On day three of the riots, a man approached me and asked where was the UN? Where was the USA? Didn't they see all this on the news? I didn't know how to answer him. I held his desperate eyes and all I could think to say was, "You already know."
His shoulders fell and I saw the hunger and hope fade from his eyes. He said, "They won't come, will they?" I shook my head. "They don't care, do they?" I shook my head again. Finally he looked up the street at the crowd of his people facing the soldiers and then back to me and he said, "We are all alone, aren't we?" I nodded my head. He already knew the answers to all these questions, he just hadn't admitted it until that moment.
For others, the realization came later--in May after Cyclone Nargis devastated Yangon and eviscerated most of the Aywerwaddy Delta in the south, killing 100,000 or more. As international aid agencies clashed with the government, French and American war ships closed in with humanitarian aid. The desperately paranoid junta government feared it might be a prelude to an invasion and warned them away. The people watched intently wondering if this might be the beginning of the end of their oppressive rulers. In a teashop, a man asked me if the ships had medical supplies or bullets? His question was hopeful for either. I admitted that I didn't know. Either way, he said, they would do some good. As it turned out the ships were filled with both, but they dropped off their medical supplies and turned and headed away. Everyone knew at that point, if they didn't already know, that there would be no invasion, no liberation, no Doyay!
So now that the US election cycle has come once again, they are understandably tuned out. For most of them, they have only a romanticized idea of what democracy is anyway. When they talk about democracy, they speak with almost a religious zeal, as if with Democracy (always capitalized), the skies will part and salvation will rain down over all. When asked about specific policies or programs, they shrug and dismiss it. "Democracy" will handle all that. A friend of mine, Mying Htun, told me that most Myanmar people don't have any idea what real democracy is. They don't understand what it really entails. He is well-traveled and spent years in Australia. He knew what an active, living democracy looked like. We sat at his restaurant before opening, countless wait staff bustling about.
Mying Htun gestured at them, "If they were given a vote tomorrow, you know who they would vote for?" I didn't know. "Neither do they. They would come and ask me who I wanted them to vote for." He went on to explain that they have never known anything but a strong leader telling them what to do. To all of a sudden ask them what they wanted was expecting too much.
He told me that if McCain and Obama were running for "leader" in Myanmar, McCain would easily win. I asked why and he said, "You name it!" He's been in a military prison. He's angry and mean. He a tough soldier. He's not black. I let the last one go, but noted that many of those qualities sounded a great deal like their current leader. Myint Htun laughed at that notion and nodded his head. He supposed that was true. "Give us a choice and we will choose a strong, iron-fist leader again." I pushed a little further, "A leader like Obama might offer something new a new way to unify all the different groups. Move together and then move beyond," I delicately suggested.
"Yeah, but he's black. We'd never vote for him." Simple as that. End of discussion. I was left wondering if Myint Htun was talking about his country or mine.