Millions of people were disenfranchised. Religious leaders, including the country’s more than 500,000 Buddhist monks and nuns as well as Christian pastors and Islamic clerics were denied a vote, as were refugees who had left Burma and internally displaced peoples in the ethnic states. At the same time, according to IPAD, ‘thousands of minors and non-citizens were wrongfully allowed to vote’.14
IPAD concludes that ‘the National Referendum Commission (NRC) not only violated every minimum standard for a free and fair referendum, its officials blatantly cheated. Three fraudulent practices appear to be particularly widespread: ballot stuffing, the falsification and corruption of advance ballot voting, and the systematic cancellation of no-votes.’15 The claim that 98.58 per cent of the population in Kachin State, for example, turned out to vote, and in eight out of ten townships in Kachin State 100 per cent of the electorate turned out, is simply not credible. Kachin State is one of the most remote and sparsely populated parts of Burma, in which transportation and roads are severely limited. ‘These statistics defy rational belief,’ IPAD concludes.16
A Rakhine eyewitness from Arakan State confirms these reports. In northern Arakan State, he told me, authorities summoned only one person from each family to cast votes on behalf of their entire family, and often they were presented with a ballot paper already completed in favour of the constitution, and simply instructed to place it in the ballot box. They were threatened with seven years in jail if they refused. In Kyee Dwe village, Sittwe Township, the local Peace and Development Council chairman tried to replace ‘no’ votes with ‘yes’ votes, stuffing the ballot boxes. ‘Another villager and I opposed this,’ a Rakhine student told me. ‘We dared to advise the chairman to submit the results according to how people had actually voted. He said he had been ordered to ensure a high “yes” vote, and had been warned that if there were many “no” votes he would be fired. He was afraid. After I opposed his action, he informed the police and they came looking for me.’17 The student had to go into hiding, and eventually flee to Bangladesh.
The constitution that has come into force through this sham referendum has been described by the General Secretary of the KNU, Zipporah Sein, as ‘a death sentence for ethnic diversity in Burma’.18 It is simply a way for the regime to secure its rule, she argues, and offers no prospect of democracy and no protection of ethnic identity, language or cultural rights. One quarter of the seats in both houses of the new national Parliament are reserved for the military, and a similar proportion is reserved in state and regional assemblies. In addition, serving military officers are permitted to stand for election in the non-reserved seats.19 Most significantly, any attempt to amend the constitution would require more than three-quarters of both Houses of Parliament and a majority in a nationwide referendum. With a quarter of the seats in Parliament reserved for the military, the armed forces will hold an effective veto over any changes.20 The constitution also gives the military immunity from prosecution for any crimes committed.
As the International Center for Transitional Justice concludes, ‘instead of being a true catalyst for lasting change, it [the constitution] further entrenches the military within the government and the associated culture of impunity’.21 The result is ‘a carefully planned strategy in which a functioning democracy is impossible’ under this constitution, and amending its ‘fundamentally undemocratic provisions is virtually impossible’.22
Having finalised a new constitution that effectively enshrines military rule, the regime then set about planning elections that would, it hoped, create a veneer of respectability and legitimacy for its continued rule. As part of its preparations for a transition to a ‘civilian’ government, the junta began to demand that ethnic ceasefire groups merge with the Tatmadaw. The proposal, as touched on earlier, was that they should form a border guard force, under the command of the Tatmadaw – in effect, a total surrender enabling the Tatmadaw to assume total control of all areas of the country. Each border guard force battalion, the regime proposed, would consist of 326 soldiers including 18 local officers. Thirty Tatmadaw officers would be posted to each battalion.23 Some ethnic ceasefire groups, particularly those already aligned to the regime such as most of the DKBA, accepted the deal; others, such as the KIO and the KNU/KNLA Peace Council, a breakaway from the KNU, have refused.
The key question for the democracy movement in the run-up to elections in 2010 was what they should do: take part, in the full knowledge that it would be rigged and they would lose, or boycott, and risk being made illegal and closed down. Similar choices faced the ethnic nationalities. U Win Tin emphasised that the democracy movement is ‘ready to engage’ in a genuine dialogue, but would not endorse a sham process.24 That message was developed in the NLD’s Shwegondaing Declaration in April 2009, in which it stated that if all political prisoners were released, the new constitution amended and the elections held on a free and fair basis, monitored by international observers, the NLD would take part. It quickly became clear, however, for anyone in any doubt, that the regime was not interested. The democracy movement followed up with a ‘Proposal for National Reconciliation: Towards Democracy and Development in Burma’, in which it reiterated its call for dialogue. In Insein Prison on 20 May 2009, Aung San Suu Kyi said ‘it is still not too late to achieve national reconciliation’. The movement’s proposal, signed by all the major organisations within the democracy movement including the NCGUB, the NCUB, the Ethnic Nationalities Council, the Women’s League for Burma and the Forum for Democracy in Burma, declared that it was ‘extending an outstretched hand, inviting a dialogue with the Tatmadaw leaders which would contribute to the creation of the necessary conditions for the holding of free and fair elections’.25 Still, the regime’s hand remained tightly clenched. As a Kachin activist told me, ‘there is no freedom of expression. The regime always violates fundamental human rights. The elections cannot be free and fair.’ Another described the road map as ‘fake democracy’.26
Even though the new constitution alone gave the military a guaranteed place at the centre of government, the regime was determined not to allow any loopholes through which freedom could inadvertently emerge. After an American Mormon, John Yettaw, swam uninvited across Inya Lake to Aung San Suu Kyi’s home, the regime saw it as an opportunity to keep her locked up and out of the way until after the elections. Charged with violating Article 22 of the 1975 State Protection Law, by allowing Yettaw to stay for two nights in her home without permission, Aung San Suu Kyi was put on trial and sentenced to three years imprisonment with hard labour. General Than Shwe then reduced the penalty to eighteen months’ house arrest, in an effort to appear compassionate. ‘In considering a military dictatorship such as the government of Burma, it is easy to see only its crudity and absurdity … But if Burma’s generals are cruel, stubborn and pompous, they are also cunning and strategic,’ wrote Richard Lloyd Parry in The Times. The Generals had a plan, he said, and Aung San Suu Kyi’s sentencing ‘is part of its unfolding’.27
As if that were not enough, election laws issued in March 2010 required any political party that wished to contest the elections to expel political prisoners among their members. The NLD, therefore, would have been required to expel a significant proportion of their members, including possibly Aung San Suu Kyi, who spent more than fifteen years under house arrest. The NLD was left with little choice but to boycott the elections, and as a result, its status as a legally registered party was removed.
In addition, the regime then announced that candidates had to pay 500 dollars to run, a fee that is more than the average annual salary and totally unaffordable for most parties other than those backed by the regime. All election literature had to be approved by the regime, and candidates were forbidden to make statements that might ‘tarnish the image of the state’. Restrictions on movement and gatherings made election canvassing or rallies impossible. The electoral commission was entirely hand-picked by the junta, several political parties and candidates were barred from standing, foreign jour
nalists were banned and in 3,400 villages in ethnic areas polls were cancelled, leaving at least 1.5 million people disenfranchised. No international observers were invited, apart from a North Korean delegation. A few days before the election, Britain’s ambassador Andrew Heyn summed up the situation. ‘As we approach the elections and I get out talking to ordinary people about their voting intentions, I am often met by two apparently illogical statements. The first is that there is a strong sense that the regime’s proxy party, the USDP, will win the elections; the second is that none of my contacts has met anyone who will willingly vote for the USDP … People here believe that the vote will somehow be fixed.’28
Two weeks after the elections, I travelled to the India–Burma border, and the evidence that the polls had been ‘fixed’ was overwhelming. I heard stories of intimidation and harassment, and the manipulation of advance postal votes. In some areas, particularly Tedim and Kalaymyo, USDP officials reportedly cast ballots on behalf of voters. The USDP is what used to be known as the USDA – the thugs had formed a political party. Villagers were forced to make financial contributions to the USDP campaign in parts of Chin State, and in the aftermath of the elections, in the few areas where the USDP had lost to the pro-democracy Chin National Party (CNP), the regime ordered an investigation into how civil servants had voted. Any government official found to have voted the wrong way faced a severe punishment. The conclusion of the Chin people I spoke to was that ‘the elections amount to nothing more than a change of clothes for the military’ and ‘a sham’.29
Similar stories of electoral fraud, irregularities, harassment and abuse were reported from all parts of the country. The Chairman of the National Democratic Force (NDF), Than Nyein, said that while his party had never expected the polls to be free and fair, the abuses were ‘far more than we anticipated’.30 The Executive Secretary of the Democratic Party, Cho Cho Kyaw Nyein, said the electoral fraud was ‘the ugliest and most extreme level of vote-stealing’. The end result was as predicted: an overwhelming victory for the regime. The USDP won 883 of the 1,154 seats contested. In the Lower House, the People’s Assembly, the USDP won almost 80 per cent of the seats, and in the Upper House, the National Assembly, they gained 76 per cent of the seats. In some of the division and state legislatures, ethnic and pro-democracy parties fared better, but the USDP remained in control. Adding the seats won by the USDP to the 25 per cent of seats reserved for the military, the regime has a total grip on the new legislatures at national and regional levels.
To add to the cards stacked in the regime’s favour, real power does not lie with the legislature anyway. An eleven-member National Defence and Security Council, chaired by the President, and dominated by the military, is established under the constitution. Compared with this governing body, the Parliament has little power. The military remain largely unaccountable to legislators, and the President and Vice-President, elected by a hand-picked electoral college of MPs, must be military officers. Former general Thein Sein, who served as Than Shwe’s Prime Minister under the previous system, is the new President, and of the thirty-member cabinet, only four are civilians and none are women. The head of the military appoints the Ministers of Home Affairs, Border Affairs and Defence. U Win Tin’s words written more than a year earlier proved prescient: ‘The showcase election planned by the military regime makes a mockery of the freedom sought by our people and would make military dictatorship permanent.’31
Nevertheless, within a few months of their election some MPs did begin to test what little space they had, by tabling questions and debates that would previously have been unthinkable. They started gingerly, with questions about land rights and child rights, but quickly became more confident, raising questions about the ethnic conflict and political prisoners. Five ethnic political parties formed an alliance, the Nationalities Brotherhood Forum, bringing together Shan, Mon, Rakhine, Chin and Karen parties in a grouping in Parliament. In February 2012, Parliament debated the country’s budget for the first time. As United Nations adviser Aung Tun Thet told the media, ‘it’s a very refreshing step forward. It’s a demonstration of the checks and balances between the legislative and the executive.’ Under previous regimes, which spent almost half their budget on the military and less than 2 per cent on health, there was, said Aung Tun Thet, ‘no assessment, no discussion, no dialogue. Now for the first time in many, many years, we have a chance to discuss the budget and its priorities.’32
It remains to be seen whether these steps will lead to more substantial reform. With its victory secured and its continued rule guaranteed, the regime could afford a face-lift, and went vigorously into public relations mode. Six days after the election, Aung San Suu Kyi was released from her latest period of house arrest. Under Burmese law her detention had expired, and the regime clearly wanted to improve its international image and divert attention from the elections. The crowds who had gathered outside her home showed that, more than two decades after the Shwedagon speech at which she had first captured the imaginations and affections of Burma’s people, she is as relevant to the country and its future now as she has ever been.
Immediately, she re-energised her supporters. ‘Please do not give up hope. There is no reason to lose heart,’ she told the crowds in front of the NLD’s offices the day after her release. ‘Even if you are not political, politics will come to you. None of us can do it alone. We must work together.’33 With that theme of unity echoing in the ears of those who heard her, she then displayed an extraordinary absence of bitterness towards her former captors. ‘I have no negative feelings towards the government,’ she said. Her message to Than Shwe? ‘Let’s meet each other directly.’34
For nine months, the regime ignored that offer and there appeared to be no hope of change any time soon. Although President Thein Sein spoke of reforms in his inaugural speech in March 2011, few people believed him at the time and there were few signs of substance to back up his pledges. Yet just as history repeats itself in Burma, so Burmese politics is capable of producing surprises. On 19 August 2011 Aung San Suu Kyi received a sudden, and apparently unexpected, invitation to Naypyidaw, where she met President Thein Sein for the first time. Even more surprising than the meeting itself was her positive assessment of the new President. After years of stalemate, in which the regime either refused to talk or offered nothing substantial to talk about, Aung San Suu Kyi repeatedly claimed that Thein Sein was a man she could trust, and that he was ‘an honest man’.35 In January 2012, I asked Aung San Suu Kyi why she believed Thein Sein, and she told me that her meeting with him was completely unlike any previous meeting with anyone from the regime in the past two decades. All her previous conversations with Generals had contained no substance whatsoever. They were, in her words, ‘nothing’. In contrast, Thein Sein immediately got down to detail, telling her that he wanted her to be part of the process, and asking what the government needed to do to make it possible for her to participate. They discussed substantive issues such as the 2008 constitution, election laws and other concerns. His willingness to engage at that level made her feel, as Margaret Thatcher famously said of Mikhail Gorbachev, that he was a man she could do business with.
In subsequent months Thein Sein talked increasingly of reform, and her engagement with the process deepened, to such an extent that the President’s adviser was openly talking about the possibility of her being offered a position in government.36 A significant number of political prisoners, including the high-profile ’88 Generation leaders and the comedian Zarganar, were released, censorship was eased, bans on websites were lifted, and most significantly, the NLD was permitted to register as a political party and contest parliamentary by-elections. On 1 April 2012, the NLD won 43 of the 45 parliamentary seats contested, and Aung San Suu Kyi won her constituency of Kawhmu in a landslide. She told the BBC that she believed Burma would see real democracy in her lifetime. 37
Within less than a year the mood changed from near-despair to cautious optimism. A Burmese journalist who is a known criti
c of the regime told me in January 2012 that for the first time since 1962, Burmese people were praying for the President to live, not to die. People were becoming increasingly persuaded that Thein Sein was, at least personally, sincere. But there is a recognition that as things stand, much is riding on the shoulders of two human beings: Thein Sein and Aung San Suu Kyi. It is no secret that Thein Sein, in his late sixties, is not in good health. ‘We’re all praying for his pacemaker to keep working,’ said the Burmese journalist.
Yet sceptics are right to remind the world that there is still a long way to go, and that until all political prisoners are released, there is significant legislative, institutional and constitutional reform, the rule of law is established, and – crucially – the military stops attacks on ethnic civilians and declares a nationwide peace process, one cannot be confident of real freedom in Burma. When I returned from Rangoon in January 2012, I said I believed in ‘cautious optimism’ – with equal emphasis on both words. There are reasons to be hopeful, but still plenty of grounds for caution. Some, including Aung San Suu Kyi’s own colleague U Win Tin, warn that Thein Sein’s reforms are a ploy to neutralise her and gain international legitimacy. Ludu Sein Win was even more scathing, believing she is walking into a ‘trap’ that will lead to her spending months in Naypyidaw, isolated and separated from the NLD and the people, and that it would spell the end for her party. ‘A leopard never changes its spots,’ he told me. Without doubt, the regime’s motives remain those of self-interest. It is unlikely that the Generals have had an epiphany and woken up as true believers in democracy – instead, they want to see sanctions lifted, China’s influence counter-balanced by that of the United States, their pariah status removed and legitimacy secured.
Burma- a Nation at the Crossroads Page 29