Living Silence in Burma (26 page)

Later that year, Zaw Lwin ran into this cousin at Aung San Suu Kyi’s compound, just after the death of her mother, Khin Kyi, in December 1988. He was shocked to see his cousin in plain clothes, wearing an NLD pin and acting like an NLD sympathizer. The cousin had been sent to the compound to see who was there and report back to military intelligence. Zaw Lwin refrained from greeting his cousin, but when his cousin caught his eye, he held up his hand, signalling him not to approach. Another military informer saw their exchange and assumed Zaw Lwin was also an intelligence agent. As Zaw Lwin was sitting at a table, the agent leaned over and whispered, ‘What does the black ribbon mean?’ Zaw Lwin told him it meant mourning for Khin Kyi. The man was writing notes in the margins of a magazine, and Zaw Lwin sensed he was in a dangerous situation. If the real NLD people realized that his cousin and the other man were intelligence agents, they might think he was too. He decided his only option was to leave immediately.

When he returned to his home town, Zaw Lwin told all his relatives about seeing the cousin spying on the NLD. Later, his cousin came to Zaw Lwin’s home to try to make amends. The cousin had transferred from the military to the police, and arrived at Zaw Lwin’s house on a new motorcycle, smoking a cigar. Zaw Lwin recalled that his family was put off by his manner, but because of his age and rank they treated him respectfully and offered him food and tea. The cousin talked openly about his frustration with the military but said he had a family to feed. He also warned Zaw Lwin to stop his involvement in the democracy movement, for his own safety. Zaw Lwin said that his mother lost her temper and
told her nephew that if he didn’t have the courage to resign and do what her son was doing, he need not come to visit again.

Other families, however, have tried to smooth over their political differences and maintain close family relations. When siblings end up in opposing camps, the parents try to keep politics out of family discussions and focus on keeping the family together. Siblings are often torn by their own conflicting feelings.

Such was the case with a middle-aged man named Tint Moe, who was involved in a demonstration in the mid-1970s. He continued to hold anti-government views, while one of his older brothers rose in a career in the foreign service. Tint Moe vividly recalled that after he was released from prison, his brother wrote to him, saying, ‘You are at an age when you are very idealistic, but remember that all these things will pass and remember what you owe to your parents.’

Despite their political differences, his brother continued to send him gifts from his various postings. This made it difficult for Tint Moe to hate his brother, even though he resented the suggestion that he stop his political activities. But when the brothers met up at their parents’ house in Rangoon after several years, the discussion quickly became heated. As they got on to politics, Tint Moe demanded, ‘Should I talk to you as a brother or should I talk to you as someone who works for the Foreign Ministry?’

Even at home, Tint Moe’s brother refused to let down his guard or admit any negative feelings towards the regime. Tint Moe’s father would sometimes ask whether various rumours about the government were true or not, but Tint Moe’s brother would not answer. As Tint Moe put it, ‘He had just one face. The private face and the public face were the same.’

Yet when I asked Tint Moe if he felt that the military regime was to blame for the tensions in his relationship with his brother, he replied, ‘You could say that, but I don’t feel any personal animosity towards my brother. Whatever decisions he and I have made have been influenced by the stars we were born with.’

Ethnic minority families

Non-Burman families face the same challenges that Burman families face, but also some additional ones. Because successive regimes have stressed Burman culture, Burman history and Buddhism as central to Burmese nationalism, people of other ethnic and religious backgrounds often feel marginalized. Ethnic minority languages are only rarely permitted to be taught in government schools, and non-Burmans often find
it hard to rise in government careers. While ethnic minority parents tend to be forthcoming with their children about the implications of their status as minorities, like Burman parents, their intention is to raise their children for success within the pre-existing political structure.

Because minorities in Burma are often discriminated against, they feel that they have to work extra hard to gain their rightful place. Many Indian and Chinese children, as well as the children of Rohingya Muslims in Northern Arakan State, have been denied full citizenship and cannot legally travel out of their districts without official permission.
²
Although they were born in Burma, as were most of their parents, and often even grandparents, they are not granted automatic citizenship. Instead, they are issued with Foreign Resident Certificates, which disqualify them from entering medical and engineering schools. Thus, parents must prepare their children for the fact that, no matter how smart they are, many careers will be closed to them. Many gravitate to business or seek their fortunes abroad. Parents rarely suggest fighting against these discriminatory policies, but try to help their children adapt instead.

Among the indigenous ethnic nationalities, parents also push their children to conform. A young Mon named Nai Panna told me how his parents had their children speak Mon at home but did not encourage involvement in other Mon cultural activities. He said that, in his area, few parents wanted their children to join in Mon activities, because after learning more about Mon history and the regime’s repression of their culture, they were likely to volunteer for the New Mon State Party’s liberation army and end up being killed by the
tatmadaw
. When Nai Panna moved to Rangoon, he joined the Mon Literature and Culture group and quickly appreciated that without achieving greater political freedom, a renaissance of Mon culture was also not possible. In 1988, he did exactly what his parents had not wanted him to do: he joined the New Mon State Party.

With the emergence of ethnic-based political parties and student fronts between 1988 and 1990, many ethnic minority families also split over which groups they should join. Some of the disputes revolved around the value placed on loyalty to one’s race versus a belief in the more universal ideology of democracy. In some cases it was less a disagreement over where one’s loyalties lay than an issue of idealism versus pragmatism. Some believed that only by working with a united front could they ever be successful, while others were so distrustful of ethnic Burmans that they insisted separate paths must be taken.

Among siblings, there were conflicts when one joined an ethnic-based
organization and another joined a broader organization. Nai Panna talked about how upset he was in 1988 when his brother joined the ABSDF instead of the New Mon State Party. Nai Panna’s brother had come to the border with a Burman friend and felt that the best way forward was to work for democracy first. More than ten years later, they still did not see eye to eye.

Thus, many families in Burma have felt the effects of military rule on relations within the family. As various members have chosen different ways of responding to the ongoing political crisis, families have often been pulled apart. And whenever there is a dramatic change in the political situation, family relations are invariably shaken up as well.

Even in cases where the parents have maintained private support for the democracy movement, young activists have sometimes felt irritated at their parents for not doing more. Some activists have tried to use this frustration to urge this generation of youth to take action. As a former ABSDF leader, Dr Naing Aung, put it, ‘Our parents didn’t do it, so we have to take this responsibility. If we don’t do it, the next generation will face the same problem.’ This has been Aung San Suu Kyi’s argument. People must join together and participate now, so that everybody can live in peace and security in the future. But remembering the farmer-carpenter who is worried about getting the next meal on the table for his family, it is easy to understand why people hesitate.

The fact that parents of all backgrounds tend to promote conformity with the regime reflects an interesting twist on the ‘Asian Values’ argument, which prioritizes collective well-being over individual rights. Because Burmese parents, like parents everywhere, try to protect themselves and their children from harm, there is no collective well-being but only continued fear and insecurity for everybody.

7 | Communities: going with the flow

    In Burmese we have an expression
ye laik, nga laik
, which means ‘where the water flows, the fish must go’. In other words, we must go with the flow. (Daw Sabei)

Communities have been damaged in many ways by continued military rule, in which surveillance, intimidation and arrest are used to keep people in line. The regime has also exploited traditions of respect for authority to exercise its control over communities. In the civil war areas, communities have been uprooted and destroyed because of the
tatmadaw
’s counter-insurgency techniques, which focus on removing civilian support for resistance armies. Nevertheless, in all parts of the country, the number of community organizations has grown significantly in recent years as people seek to address issues largely ignored by the authorities. While many of these organizations have faced harassment and interference, some have found ways to survive and make contributions that have benefited society.

Obedience is a habit

When people in Burma meet each other for the first time, they immediately try to determine whether the other person is above or below them in status. This is primarily determined by age, but also by other factors, such as wealth and type of employment. Recognition of one’s own and others’ relative position in society is constantly reaffirmed through the use of prefixes in front of names and different pronouns to signify ‘I’ and ‘you’. Thus, a man or a woman would address men their father’s age as
U
, or ‘uncle’, and women their mother’s age as
Daw
or ‘aunt’. Similarly, in the army, younger men are encouraged to call their senior officers
ah bah
, or father/grandfather, and to call those just above them in rank
ko gyi
, or big brother. As a result, everyone knows his place and acts accordingly. This linguistic practice creates a positive feeling of social cohesiveness, because people relate to each other as if they were all part of one big family. But at the same time, individuals must generally defer to those above them, regardless of whether they are right or wrong.

Related to the use of status markers is the concept of
ah nah
, which often connotes a desire not to impose on others. The objective is to
maintain smooth relations by considering others’ feelings and speaking and acting accordingly. For instance, one should refrain from saying or doing anything that might be upsetting to a superior, including making what might be perceived as excessive demands. At the same time, a person may feel
ah nah
if he or she has promised to do something but then cannot do it.

In a social context, friendly relations can be easily developed, as each side tries to demonstrate goodwill towards the other. The junior-ranking person in the exchange will be particularly hesitant to bring up troubling issues, instead trying to say things that will make the superior feel pleased or happy. In a political context, feelings of
ah nah
can be used to justify silence and inaction. Thus, lower-level authorities are hesitant to report bad news to those above them. Moreover, when military officers make demands on individuals and communities, they know that most people will not dare to talk back. Although fear is the main reason people stay quiet, they may tell others that they felt it wasn’t their place to object. When people do speak up, military authorities often react with shock and anger, telling them to remember to whom they are talking. The regime plays on a tradition of respect for elders to insist on unquestioning obedience from both lower-ranking soldiers and civilians.

Some activists have argued that the military has habituated people to silently obeying as part of a strategy of disempowerment. Control through humiliation is often used by the authorities. Sanda explained that to impress a government minister who would be passing their town on a train, the local authorities ordered all those living on both sides of the track to repaint their houses. ‘Those who didn’t do it,’ she said, ‘had to pay fifty kyat. Those who couldn’t pay were sent out on to the train track to jump like frogs.’ In order to avoid such humiliations, people try to comply with the authorities’ demands, whether they consider them justified or not.

Po Khin, a farmer who became a labour organizer, talked about how the military has made regular, and sometimes arbitrary, demands on citizens, so that eventually people don’t even think about protesting. He gave an example of how some villagers were toyed with in Sagaing Division. The military officers said they were going to repair the road that linked the towns of Kalaymyo and Tamu. They ordered the villagers to collect stones and firewood, clear a site, and make tar. After the villagers had complied, the battalion withdrew. The tar spoiled, and all their work had been in vain. Later, the military officers came again and said this time they really were going to repair the road and made the villagers collect
everything again, without any payment. The villagers were told to pile all the supplies on one side of the road. When the officers reappeared later, they ordered the villagers to move everything to the other side of the road, and then again to the first side. The villagers had to do as they were told, no matter how capricious the command.

Demands for money are also common. For instance, businessmen are often compelled to buy tickets for military-sponsored functions or to make donations to military-sponsored charities, because if they don’t, they may find their business activities hindered in all kinds of ways. Po Khin concluded that, with time, ‘When a man in an army uniform stands in front of your house and says you have to pay this amount of money, the house-owner has no thought of complaining or asking, “For what?” He just gives it.’ Po Khin said that when he and his colleagues told villagers, ‘You have the right to refuse. You have the right to question,’ they answered, ‘Oh, they are from the government, how can I?’