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In terms of sheer social complexity it has few rivals- Perhaps Lebanon, possibly the Balkans. But Myanmar's ethnic mix is truly diverse. There are some 100 languages and dialects. Major ethnic groups like the Karen, Shan, Mon, Chin, and Kachin encompass others. The Chin alone have 40 subgroups. Even the majority Myanmar citizens, some two-thirds of the total population, include numerous assimilated Mon and Karen.

While it is an anthropologist's dream, Myanmar's ethnic patchwork has proved a continuing political nightmare. Most of the ethnic minorities have, at one time or another, taken up arms against the central government. Some are still fighting, yet the destruction and deprivation visited upon minority communities is rarely reported.

While all sides in these conflicts bear degrees of responsibility for the turmoil, one salient fact stands out. No Myanmar government has addressed minority grievances in a fully fair and comprehensive manner. The spirit of "Unity in Diversity," promoted by the country's founder, Aung San, largely passed with his assassination in 1947. If minority concerns are addressed at all, then military solutions are sought for political problems. "One blood, one voice, one command" was for years a favored government army slogan.

In the last decade, the current junta has acquired a vast array of armaments and increased its armed forces to almost 500,000 men. Armed ethnic groups like the Mon or Kachin have been pressured or beaten to the point where they found it necessary to strike ceasefires with Yangon. The junta says that represents progress, and certainly much unnecessary killing has stopped. Unfortunately, promised political dialog has been farcical or nonexistent and promised economic development not much better. When it comes to large-scale projects, such as the Yadana gas pipeline, through Mon and Karen territory, or the projected Salween Dam in Shan State, minorities are told to step aside and used as forced labor.

No ethnic group has fought longer or harder than the Karen have. In 1949, when their struggle began, the Karen, led by the Karen National Union (KNU), controlled Mandalay and were poised to take Yangon. Today, the KNU controls little territory and over 120,000 Karen languish as refugees in Thailand, with a much larger number internally displaced in Myanmar's Karen State.

Outside observers have sometimes found fault with the KNU suggesting that it is fighting an unwinnable war and led by a largely Christian old guard. In 1995 a Buddhist faction split off and formed an armed alliance with Yangon.

In January this year, the KNU elected a new leader, Saw Ba Thin, replacing General Bo Mya, who had led the organization for 24 years. Ba Thin's path upward in the KNU has been more political than military. In appearance a genial, articulate 73-year old Karen, he was originally from the Henzada district in Myanmar's upper Irrawaddy delta. At a private interview, in the Thai-Myanmar border area in March, Ba Thin addressed criticisms of the KNU and spoke of Karen concerns and goals.

Ba Thin acknowledged that many observers would see the KNU's abandonment of fixed positional warfare for guerrilla tactics as a sign of weakness and admitted that "force of circumstances" impelled the change. He emphasized, however, that the force of Karen nationalism was not something to be measured in terms of guns or territory. And that fortune can change.

"Yes, by viewing from the outside, maybe people see us like that," Ba Thin said. "But they don't see the mind or the inner part of the heart of the Karen and how we feel. Take World War II. The Japanese and the Germans were very powerful and people thought they'd overrun the whole world. But within two or three years the situation changed. There are 7 million Karen. If you can't kill all of them at once, the heart will remember."

The leadership change has also extended downward and younger Karen have been brought into important positions. Significantly, a Buddhist and former monk named Saw Satila, now heads the organization's Religious Affairs Department.

"Because many of our leaders were over 75, we have to hand over power to the new generation, the KNU president said. "They are younger and more intellectual. The struggle has been going for three generations so they have to shoulder this duty. We must encourage them. They should know how to lead and how to educate their people."

The KNU rankles at the frequent aspersions in Myanmar's government-controlled press that it is made up of separatist bandits against whom military actions are justified. "The question of the Karen people is a political one and we feel it should be solved by political means," Ba Thin said. "Reach an agreement, only then there can be a real peace, real reconciliation. When you start talking you must start solving problems. It cannot be one-sided; there must be dialogue. We are not separatists. We struggle for the establishment of a federal union where all the minorities can enjoy equal rights."

What serious dialog there has been, has not been with Yangon, but more with dissident Myanmar prodemocracy activists who have sheltered in minority-controlled areas. Many of these were students who fled after the 1988 massacres perpetrated against their colleagues by government soldiers. Though obviously lacking power, they represent probably the first generation of educated Myanmars to both share and understand many minority concerns. There is hope for the future. However, any linkup between the minorities and domestic dissidents makes the junta see red. A 1997 Ethnic Nationalities Seminar in Karen territory, followed by the playing of a video tape made by Aung San Suu Kyi wearing traditional Karen dress, led to massive Myanmar military retaliation upon KNU positions.

From time to time the KNU, feeling pressure from Thailand or otherwise seeking an end to fighting, has engaged in cease-fire talks with Yangon. They have not ruled out doing so again in the future. The last talks, in 1997, ended in failure when Yangon insisted the KNU lay down its arms, or basically surrender, and return to the "legal fold," implying their 50-year struggle was illegal. Ba Thin was not at the negotiations but was clearly upset by Yangon's demands.

"What kind of legal fold is this?" he asked rhetorically. "You are a military dictatorship. You don't even have a constitution for the country yet. Where are the rules, laws and regulations? There is only the law of the jungle."

For the displaced Karen in Thailand, life is getting harder. The camps are dead ends and security is relative. Talk of repatriation is in the air and now the United Nations High Commission for Refugees is involved in the refugee issue. Many Karen are afraid that any repatriation won't be voluntary, although the UNHCR and some Thai officials insist it will be. They feel that, typically, an important issue affecting minority concerns is being decided over their heads. On this issue Ba Thin said, "My view is clear, unless and until we can solve the political problems of this country, it will be hopeless." Meanwhile the war goes on.

When political expression leads to jail

Bo Kyi speaks English in a soft voice. He learned it the hard way, unable to see his teacher. They were political prisoners in adjoining cells in Myanmar's Thayawaddy Prison. His teacher whispered to him while the guards were away. Then Bo Kyi used a piece of brick to write out new words on his cell wall.

If the ethnic question represents one side of Myanmar's profound social failure, the lack of political consensus is the other. Freedom of expression does not exist. To call or campaign for political rights often means jail. At least 2,500 political prisoners are currently in some 20 prisons throughout Myanmar.

Bo Kyi, a student political activist, was first arrested in Yangon on March 16, 1990 and sentenced to three years with hard labor. After his release, he was rearrested again on July 17, 1994 and given the same sentence. He served his sentences at three prisons: Insein, Mandalay, and Thayawaddy. After the second release, military intelligence officers visited his home at least once a week to discuss his "opinions' and often threatened him with rearrest. When they came to his house to do just that on August 28, 1999, luckily he was away.

Now Bo Kyi is in Thailand. He and 14 other ex-political prisoners have formed an organization called the Safeguard Association for Political Prisoners in Burma. The organization has five goals: to report on the oppression of political prisoners; to encourage international support; to secure human rights for political prisoners; to protect them from intimidation after release and; to aid them after release, both mentally and physically. Their organization is providing concerned NGOs like Amnesty International with information on prison conditions.

And those conditions are bad. The regime mixes political prisoners with common criminals and encourages the latter to take advantage of the former. Food is monotonous and inadequate: rice, curry, fish paste and a watery, ersatz soup called "talapaw." "We cannot survive on only the food given by the jail, it's not enough," said Bo Kyi. "We depend on our families. Mine provided me (with food) regularly twice a month so I was able to share with my comrades."

Not all families can afford to help their imprisoned relatives and some jails are isolated. Bo Kyi spoke of Myingyan Prison, in central Myanmar, as one where conditions were much worse. No one wanted to be sent there.

"That area is very hot in summer and very cold in winter. Each prisoner is allowed just two pieces of clothing and one blanket. In other prisons you can share your food but not in Myingyan. If your family can't support you, you will eat only the food given by the prison." One of Bo Kyi's friends, Saw Eh Dah, sickened and died there, after just one year of malnutrition and severe beatings.

Beatings are frequent in Myanmar's jails. Sometimes it's for surreal infractions, like failure to capture a quota of 100 flies in a day. Other times it's for political activity, real or suspected. Additional intimidation techniques used in these jails include sleep deprivation, blindfolding, and isolation in small, excessively bright or darkened, cells.

Aside from the brutal elements of prison life, just getting through each day requires mental strength. "Time is slow," Bo Kyi says. "Today, tomorrow, yesterday are the same. The typical life is routine. I am awakened at 5:30 in the morning. At that time I must sit on my knees for at least 30 minutes. Then I walk around the room. Since, as you know, I am a Buddhist, sometimes I make meditation. I try to think about what was wrong in the past and what was right."

The recent arrest and imprisonment of two British nationals, James Mawdsley and Rachel Goldwyn, briefly focused world attention on Myanmar's jails. Goldwyn was eventually let go but Bo Kyi and his comrades had difficulty understanding some of her reasoning upon release. She seemed out of her depth. Mawdsley was a much different matter. "Especially him, he is now in Kengtung Prison and we really do honor him, for his courage and what he is doing there."

The SAPPB possess a poster of Aung San Suu Kyi, Myanmar's democracy leader, with her words, "There will be change because all the military have are guns." Ironically, one of the SAPPB members was a private in the Myanmar Army in 1988. He refused to fire on the crowds of pro-democracy demonstrators and deserted. For that he was sentenced to twelve years in jail. (R.H.)

"We are full of love for you but cannot take care of all."
-from a notice to Karen villagers that landmines would bet set on their land

Durimg World War One, military personnel comprised 90 percent of deaths, and civilians the other 10. In today's warfare, that ratio has been reversed. One big reason has been the proliferation of landmines. They are cheap, portable, and maim or kill very effectively.

In Myanmar's Karen State, all sides to the ethnic conflict use landmines. The Karen National Union's armed wing, the Karen National Liberation Army, uses them to protect their supply lines and to harass their enemies. Those enemies, government forces of Myanmar's State Peace and Development Council and those of its ally, the Democratic Karen Buddhist Army, which split from the KNU in 1995, use them in much larger numbers and far more indiscriminately.

The KNLA tries to warn villagers where not to go, such as which trail is dangerous, but does not specify where mines are placed. Villagers still step on them. Neither the SPDC nor the DKBA give even a warning. The results are deaths, injuries and fear for the many innocent civilians who have stepped on mines or risk doing so every day.

The KNLA largely relies on homemade mines, made of bamboo and filled with steel pellets and explosives. According to the Karen Human Rights Group, an independent NGO which monitors human-rights violations in the conflict area, the SPDC and DKBA were using imported Chinese models, but now mostly use ones made in Myanmar, with factories and technology again supplied by China. The most deadly type is the MMI, based on a Chinese design called PMOZ-2, which was widely used in Cambodia. It is known as the "corncob" because of its shape but there the similarity ends. The MMI is sometimes attached to a post above ground and hidden in tall grass. It is activated by a tripwire, with the purpose being to kill or maim more that one person.

The message at the beginning was from a DKBA commander to a Karen village. Compounding the fear that these villagers face in their daily tasks are other mine-related worries. SPDC soldiers will often dragoon villagers into forced labor as army porters or human minesweepers. If they tell the soldiers that the particular path they're on is dangerous, they are often told to simply keep walking, in front of course, or branded as KNU/KNLA supporters. It becomes a Hobson's choice whether to say something or keep quiet. Either way they face the probability of an unpleasant fate. (RH)


	Myanmar's ethnic patchwork: An anthropologist's dream, but a political nightmare Special to The Japan Times May 31, 2000 by Richard Humphries In terms of sheer social complexity it has few rivals- Perhaps Lebanon, possibly the Balkans. But Myanmar's ethnic mix is truly diverse. There are some 100 languages and dialects. Major ethnic groups like the Karen, Shan, Mon, Chin, and Kachin encompass others. The Chin alone have 40 subgroups. Even the majority Myanmar citizens, some two-thirds of the total population, include numerous assimilated Mon and Karen. While it is an anthropologist's dream, Myanmar's ethnic patchwork has proved a continuing political nightmare. Most of the ethnic minorities have, at one time or another, taken up arms against the central government. Some are still fighting, yet the destruction and deprivation visited upon minority communities is rarely reported. While all sides in these conflicts bear degrees of responsibility for the turmoil, one salient fact stands out. No Myanmar government has addressed minority grievances in a fully fair and comprehensive manner. The spirit of "Unity in Diversity," promoted by the country's founder, Aung San, largely passed with his assassination in 1947. If minority concerns are addressed at all, then military solutions are sought for political problems. "One blood, one voice, one command" was for years a favored government army slogan. In the last decade, the current junta has acquired a vast array of armaments and increased its armed forces to almost 500,000 men. Armed ethnic groups like the Mon or Kachin have been pressured or beaten to the point where they found it necessary to strike ceasefires with Yangon. The junta says that represents progress, and certainly much unnecessary killing has stopped. Unfortunately, promised political dialog has been farcical or nonexistent and promised economic development not much better. When it comes to large-scale projects, such as the Yadana gas pipeline, through Mon and Karen territory, or the projected Salween Dam in Shan State, minorities are told to step aside and used as forced labor. No ethnic group has fought longer or harder than the Karen have. In 1949, when their struggle began, the Karen, led by the Karen National Union (KNU), controlled Mandalay and were poised to take Yangon. Today, the KNU controls little territory and over 120,000 Karen languish as refugees in Thailand, with a much larger number internally displaced in Myanmar's Karen State. Outside observers have sometimes found fault with the KNU suggesting that it is fighting an unwinnable war and led by a largely Christian old guard. In 1995 a Buddhist faction split off and formed an armed alliance with Yangon. In January this year, the KNU elected a new leader, Saw Ba Thin, replacing General Bo Mya, who had led the organization for 24 years. Ba Thin's path upward in the KNU has been more political than military. In appearance a genial, articulate 73-year old Karen, he was originally from the Henzada district in Myanmar's upper Irrawaddy delta. At a private interview, in the Thai-Myanmar border area in March, Ba Thin addressed criticisms of the KNU and spoke of Karen concerns and goals. Ba Thin acknowledged that many observers would see the KNU's abandonment of fixed positional warfare for guerrilla tactics as a sign of weakness and admitted that "force of circumstances" impelled the change. He emphasized, however, that the force of Karen nationalism was not something to be measured in terms of guns or territory. And that fortune can change. "Yes, by viewing from the outside, maybe people see us like that," Ba Thin said. "But they don't see the mind or the inner part of the heart of the Karen and how we feel. Take World War II. The Japanese and the Germans were very powerful and people thought they'd overrun the whole world. But within two or three years the situation changed. There are 7 million Karen. If you can't kill all of them at once, the heart will remember." The leadership change has also extended downward and younger Karen have been brought into important positions. Significantly, a Buddhist and former monk named Saw Satila, now heads the organization's Religious Affairs Department. "Because many of our leaders were over 75, we have to hand over power to the new generation, the KNU president said. "They are younger and more intellectual. The struggle has been going for three generations so they have to shoulder this duty. We must encourage them. They should know how to lead and how to educate their people." The KNU rankles at the frequent aspersions in Myanmar's government-controlled press that it is made up of separatist bandits against whom military actions are justified. "The question of the Karen people is a political one and we feel it should be solved by political means," Ba Thin said. "Reach an agreement, only then there can be a real peace, real reconciliation. When you start talking you must start solving problems. It cannot be one-sided; there must be dialogue. We are not separatists. We struggle for the establishment of a federal union where all the minorities can enjoy equal rights." What serious dialog there has been, has not been with Yangon, but more with dissident Myanmar prodemocracy activists who have sheltered in minority-controlled areas. Many of these were students who fled after the 1988 massacres perpetrated against their colleagues by government soldiers. Though obviously lacking power, they represent probably the first generation of educated Myanmars to both share and understand many minority concerns. There is hope for the future. However, any linkup between the minorities and domestic dissidents makes the junta see red. A 1997 Ethnic Nationalities Seminar in Karen territory, followed by the playing of a video tape made by Aung San Suu Kyi wearing traditional Karen dress, led to massive Myanmar military retaliation upon KNU positions. From time to time the KNU, feeling pressure from Thailand or otherwise seeking an end to fighting, has engaged in cease-fire talks with Yangon. They have not ruled out doing so again in the future. The last talks, in 1997, ended in failure when Yangon insisted the KNU lay down its arms, or basically surrender, and return to the "legal fold," implying their 50-year struggle was illegal. Ba Thin was not at the negotiations but was clearly upset by Yangon's demands. "What kind of legal fold is this?" he asked rhetorically. "You are a military dictatorship. You don't even have a constitution for the country yet. Where are the rules, laws and regulations? There is only the law of the jungle." For the displaced Karen in Thailand, life is getting harder. The camps are dead ends and security is relative. Talk of repatriation is in the air and now the United Nations High Commission for Refugees is involved in the refugee issue. Many Karen are afraid that any repatriation won't be voluntary, although the UNHCR and some Thai officials insist it will be. They feel that, typically, an important issue affecting minority concerns is being decided over their heads. On this issue Ba Thin said, "My view is clear, unless and until we can solve the political problems of this country, it will be hopeless." Meanwhile the war goes on. When political expression leads to jail Bo Kyi speaks English in a soft voice. He learned it the hard way, unable to see his teacher. They were political prisoners in adjoining cells in Myanmar's Thayawaddy Prison. His teacher whispered to him while the guards were away. Then Bo Kyi used a piece of brick to write out new words on his cell wall. If the ethnic question represents one side of Myanmar's profound social failure, the lack of political consensus is the other. Freedom of expression does not exist. To call or campaign for political rights often means jail. At least 2,500 political prisoners are currently in some 20 prisons throughout Myanmar. Bo Kyi, a student political activist, was first arrested in Yangon on March 16, 1990 and sentenced to three years with hard labor. After his release, he was rearrested again on July 17, 1994 and given the same sentence. He served his sentences at three prisons: Insein, Mandalay, and Thayawaddy. After the second release, military intelligence officers visited his home at least once a week to discuss his "opinions' and often threatened him with rearrest. When they came to his house to do just that on August 28, 1999, luckily he was away. Now Bo Kyi is in Thailand. He and 14 other ex-political prisoners have formed an organization called the Safeguard Association for Political Prisoners in Burma. The organization has five goals: to report on the oppression of political prisoners; to encourage international support; to secure human rights for political prisoners; to protect them from intimidation after release and; to aid them after release, both mentally and physically. Their organization is providing concerned NGOs like Amnesty International with information on prison conditions. And those conditions are bad. The regime mixes political prisoners with common criminals and encourages the latter to take advantage of the former. Food is monotonous and inadequate: rice, curry, fish paste and a watery, ersatz soup called "talapaw." "We cannot survive on only the food given by the jail, it's not enough," said Bo Kyi. "We depend on our families. Mine provided me (with food) regularly twice a month so I was able to share with my comrades." Not all families can afford to help their imprisoned relatives and some jails are isolated. Bo Kyi spoke of Myingyan Prison, in central Myanmar, as one where conditions were much worse. No one wanted to be sent there. "That area is very hot in summer and very cold in winter. Each prisoner is allowed just two pieces of clothing and one blanket. In other prisons you can share your food but not in Myingyan. If your family can't support you, you will eat only the food given by the prison." One of Bo Kyi's friends, Saw Eh Dah, sickened and died there, after just one year of malnutrition and severe beatings. Beatings are frequent in Myanmar's jails. Sometimes it's for surreal infractions, like failure to capture a quota of 100 flies in a day. Other times it's for political activity, real or suspected. Additional intimidation techniques used in these jails include sleep deprivation, blindfolding, and isolation in small, excessively bright or darkened, cells. Aside from the brutal elements of prison life, just getting through each day requires mental strength. "Time is slow," Bo Kyi says. "Today, tomorrow, yesterday are the same. The typical life is routine. I am awakened at 5:30 in the morning. At that time I must sit on my knees for at least 30 minutes. Then I walk around the room. Since, as you know, I am a Buddhist, sometimes I make meditation. I try to think about what was wrong in the past and what was right." The recent arrest and imprisonment of two British nationals, James Mawdsley and Rachel Goldwyn, briefly focused world attention on Myanmar's jails. Goldwyn was eventually let go but Bo Kyi and his comrades had difficulty understanding some of her reasoning upon release. She seemed out of her depth. Mawdsley was a much different matter. "Especially him, he is now in Kengtung Prison and we really do honor him, for his courage and what he is doing there." The SAPPB possess a poster of Aung San Suu Kyi, Myanmar's democracy leader, with her words, "There will be change because all the military have are guns." Ironically, one of the SAPPB members was a private in the Myanmar Army in 1988. He refused to fire on the crowds of pro-democracy demonstrators and deserted. For that he was sentenced to twelve years in jail. (R.H.) Risking death with every step, every day "We are full of love for you but cannot take care of all." -from a notice to Karen villagers that landmines would bet set on their land Durimg World War One, military personnel comprised 90 percent of deaths, and civilians the other 10. In today's warfare, that ratio has been reversed. One big reason has been the proliferation of landmines. They are cheap, portable, and maim or kill very effectively. In Myanmar's Karen State, all sides to the ethnic conflict use landmines. The Karen National Union's armed wing, the Karen National Liberation Army, uses them to protect their supply lines and to harass their enemies. Those enemies, government forces of Myanmar's State Peace and Development Council and those of its ally, the Democratic Karen Buddhist Army, which split from the KNU in 1995, use them in much larger numbers and far more indiscriminately. The KNLA tries to warn villagers where not to go, such as which trail is dangerous, but does not specify where mines are placed. Villagers still step on them. Neither the SPDC nor the DKBA give even a warning. The results are deaths, injuries and fear for the many innocent civilians who have stepped on mines or risk doing so every day. The KNLA largely relies on homemade mines, made of bamboo and filled with steel pellets and explosives. According to the Karen Human Rights Group, an independent NGO which monitors human-rights violations in the conflict area, the SPDC and DKBA were using imported Chinese models, but now mostly use ones made in Myanmar, with factories and technology again supplied by China. The most deadly type is the MMI, based on a Chinese design called PMOZ-2, which was widely used in Cambodia. It is known as the "corncob" because of its shape but there the similarity ends. The MMI is sometimes attached to a post above ground and hidden in tall grass. It is activated by a tripwire, with the purpose being to kill or maim more that one person. The message at the beginning was from a DKBA commander to a Karen village. Compounding the fear that these villagers face in their daily tasks are other mine-related worries. SPDC soldiers will often dragoon villagers into forced labor as army porters or human minesweepers. If they tell the soldiers that the particular path they're on is dangerous, they are often told to simply keep walking, in front of course, or branded as KNU/KNLA supporters. It becomes a Hobson's choice whether to say something or keep quiet. Either way they face the probability of an unpleasant fate. (RH) © 2000 The Japan Times

Myanmar's ethnic patchwork: An anthropologist's dream, but a political nightmare