After the riots, Burma returns to an unspoken terror
Pastor Dale Morgan
After the riots, Burma returns to an unspoken terror
*
Kevin Doyle in Rangoon
Saturday October 13, 2007
The Guardian
It's 9.30pm and the buses in downtown Rangoon have stopped running.
People scuttle home across the city's potholed roads and broken
pavements and the few taxis still operating will only make short trips.
With only 30 minutes to curfew, no one takes chances with the Burmese
military these days.
Carrying shotguns and assault rifles, teenagers in military and police
uniforms cluster at street corners until curfew, then retreat to
fenced-off government buildings as darkness settles.
When the residents of this sprawling city of five million people
withdraw to their homes, only pick-up trucks carrying troops ply the
downtown area, scattering the dogs that take over the empty streets
until the curfew ends at 4am.
With the killing of an unknowable number of peaceful protesters and the
imprisonment of thousands more during the pro-democracy demonstrations
last month, many people fear reprisals by the military. At the Shwedagon
pagoda, the nucleus of the protests, the military is still in force.
Wearing steel helmets, flak jackets and carrying extra ammunition, the
number of troops far exceeds the few old monks who potter among the
golden spires of what is the spiritual centre of Burmese life.
At the pagoda's eastern gate, from which the monks began their days of
peaceful marches around Rangoon, six fire trucks - the type used to
water cannon crowds, not put out blazes - are stationed. Dozens of
monastic houses lining the route to the gate remain locked and empty,
despite reports in Burma's state-controlled media that most of the monks
have been released from jail.
Sources said that around 1,000 monks had lived and studied at these
small monasteries, but where they have gone is not a question that
anyone ponders aloud. One man simply put his wrists together in the sign
of locked handcuffs when asked where they are.
"We cannot speak. We cannot defend. We have no weapons. They have all
the weapons," said another 30-year-old man, who cannot be identified for
his own safety.
He, like many thousands of others, joined the monks in the early part of
the protests, before the killing. What most people know is that when the
military and police moved to crush the demonstrations they went after
the monks under the cover of darkness - kicking in doors and bundling
monks, young and old, into trucks. Buddhist nuns were also taken away.
The military were too powerful to be beaten by peaceful protests but
some feel that the attacks and the disappearance of the Buddhist clergy
will be the undoing of General Than Shwe, the Burmese junta's leader.
"We are a Buddhist country. We believe that if you do good, you receive
good. If you do bad things you receive bad things. This will be the same
for the military," said the 30-year-old.
The military announced, in the New Light of Myanmar newspaper, that
monks and nuns taken in the raids were defrocked before interrogation
and those found to not have participated in the demonstrations were
reordained and sent back to their monasteries.
"The handling of the situation during the violent protests and measures
taken by officials for purification of the Sasana [religion] amounts to
serving the interest of the Sasana," the paper added. "Officials are to
make continued efforts for perpetuation, purification and propagation of
the Sasana."
Barricades remain stacked beside pavements, in the centre of wider roads
and in alleys ready for use, though after the crushing of the recent
protests none of those spoken to in Rangoon seem to have the stomach for
more - just yet.
Many of those who took part in the protests, even as onlookers, have
fled to the countryside fearing the ongoing night-time sweeps by the
intelligence services who video-taped demonstrators and are now putting
names to faces.
In the aftermath of the protests the military has cut the country's
internet connection to stem the flood of protest images to the outside
world. Cable TV, however, remains connected and residents in Rangoon
watched the brutal crackdown in their city on TV sets tuned to CNN and
the BBC.
In shops and hotel lobbies, Burmese staff whisper: "Have you seen CNN?
Have you seen what happened?" Many said that the world had now seen the
true face of their leaders thanks to images smuggled out of the country.
They hope that the international media attention will make a difference,
though none believe the generals are anywhere near allowing democracy or
handing over control of the country.
The Burmese follow the "three monkeys rule," said a 45-year-old
businessman as he sipped a cup of coffee overlooking the street corner
where the Japanese cameraman, Kenji Nagai, 50, was shot dead on
September 27.
"We see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. That is the way to
survive. But inside we know," he said. "I heard the Japanese cameraman
worked in Afghanistan and Iraq, but did not die. Here in Burma they shot
him dead," he said, dropping his voice to explain why he left the
demonstrations early, he added: "I have a wife and three children. If I
am killed they will have nothing."
Thousands were killed in pro-democracy protests in Rangoon in 1988 which
the businessman also witnessed and supported. Since then the military
has grown richer, stronger and has invested more in maintaining power,
he said.
The demonstrations had little chance of toppling the military but he
believed the latest show of defiance gave the generals the jitters. A
story that was repeated by several sources claimed that the wives and
children of the junta had left the country for Dubai, some said Laos, in
the early days of the demonstrations, while their husbands hunkered down
in the country's new jungle capital, Naypyidaw, to coordinate the
military's response.
"They transferred their money to Singapore, many millions of dollars,"
claimed the businessman as he chatted calmly but wearily about the
contempt felt by the people toward the military. Midway through he
stopped abruptly, his face drained and he moved in his chair, twisting
his body away from two men sitting silently at a nearby table.
"They are listening. They are special police," he said, politely ending
the conversation and leaving. In this city that quietly seethes with
anti-government resentment, the people are terrified of the spies of the
intelligence services.
Burma's state-run TV channels and newspapers have been packed since last
week with footage of big pro-government demonstrations in provincial
areas. In daily, full-page notices in newspapers and frequent TV
announcements the public are warned against tuning into the "traitors,"
"saboteurs," and "neo-colonialists" at the BBC, Voice of America and
Radio Free Asia.
The generals are "gangsters", said one man with overseas experience, but
the economic sanctions by western nations simply benefit China and Asian
nations that are still content to do business with the junta,
particularly in the fields of gas, oil and other natural resources,
which Burma has in abundance.
"Democracy does not fit well in Burma, the generals are gangsters but at
least they can run things. These democracy parties have no experience of
running the country," he added.
The military may not even want the western foreign investment that is
being denied them through sanctions - with investment comes influence
both cultural and economic.
"The military have everything they need. They don't like the influence
of western culture, because then they would have to change," he added.
"All this is hurting the very poor, they cannot go about their business."
But the Burmese security forces are not a monolith and many of the rank
and file in this Buddhist nation may fear the religious implications of
the attacks on the monasteries and the continued detentions of monks.
Earlier this week, at Shwedagon pagoda, a light rain fell as the last
few worshippers trickled up the stairways to the hilltop temple carrying
offerings of flowers and incense. Small groups of men and women sat on
reed mats meditating and reciting mantras at the pavilions at the top of
each stairway. Among them was one young man who kneeled, not to mediate
but to ask forgiveness.
At 26, this man had been a police officer for six years and had risen to
become a plainclothes officer. When the night swoops on the monasteries
began, he was ordered to take part. On Monday night he deposited his
police uniform and weapon at his station before coming to the pagoda for
one last visit before fleeing to the Thai border. It's an act of
betrayal that will mean several years' imprisonment if he is caught.
As he rose from his knees he said: "I have had enough. I have to leave."
Then with two other young men he started out on the journey to the
border and the refugee camps where tens of thousands of Burmese have
fled before him.