Insight Myanmar

Episode #112: Simon traces the arc of his Chin homeland’s history and politics from the mists of history to the present-day conflict.Chin State is the poorest part of Myanmar, which suffers from an lack of developed infrastructure. Due to the lack of available medical care, Simon decided the best way he could serve his community was by becoming a doctor.He explains how perhaps Chin State’s root problem now is poor access to education. There are just a small number of woefully supplied schools several days of walking away for many villagers. And those fortunate enough to attend school often carry painful memories of the oppressive “Burmanization” of the curriculum, where Chin students were required to speak the Burmese language at school, and though largely Christian, were forced to memorize and recite Buddhist suttas. Simon notes the enormous popular support for resisting the coup in Chin State after the military forcibly took power. Massive street protests erupted all over the province. Chin state also boasted the highest percentage of employees who joined CDM. The Tatmadaw responded with a swift and utter brutality that drove many Chin to ethnic camps to join the armed resistance. The Burmese military, in turn, responded with even more vicious ground attacks and airstrikes, which sent residents of entire towns fleeing on foot for their lives, many across the Indian border in Mizoram.“If we can wipe out, from the face of Myanmar, this military in the future, then all the Myanmar people will be joyful, peaceful and prosperous.”

Episode #111: Emerging from under decades of harsh censorship, local journalism and investigative reporting made great strides in Myanmar during the democratic transition in the 2010s. But all that was wiped out in a single blow when the military grabbed power. They began revoking licenses, arresting journalists, and torturing and even killing some in prison, posing a real risk to anyone trying to document the current conflict, and forcing many to go underground.This is the backdrop to the formation of the media collective Visual Rebellion, a platform for Burmese photographers, filmmakers and artists to display their work as an act of resistance against the military government. Two of the collective’s members appear as guests on this episode.Laure, a French journalist based in Bangkok, had provided media trainings in Myanmar prior to the pandemic. As the situation grew increasingly dire following the military coup, Laure reached out through her network to former participants from her trainings, and soon learned the difficulties they were operating under. This helped give rise to Visual Rebellion.Visual Rebellion team members currently reporting from Myanmar have all assumed code names for their safety, and attended cybersecurity training. Any material they are able to smuggle out of the country—often accomplished at enormous risk to their personal safety—is immediately posted and distributed by Laure and her colleagues.Next, Khant Pyae Kyaw discusses his role as a documentarian for the Visual Rebellion team. When the coup hit, Khant Pyae Kyaw was out on the streets covering the weeks of nonviolent demonstrations. But one day he witnessed the killing of his friend and other protesters, which shook him to his core. He has since faced other dangers in his reporting, including being accused of being a PDF soldier, and interrogated. Still, with the help of the resources that the Visual Rebellion team is providing, he persists in doing all he can to tell the story of what continues to happen in Myanmar.

Episode #110: Ariya Baumann’s spiritual journey began far away from the tropical surroundings of the Golden Land. She grew in a small town in Switzerland, among the snowy Alps. Raised in a Christian home, she began to ask herself existential questions about God. As she began to investigate possible answers, she came across some writings on Buddhism, and was immediately intrigued by the promise of meditation.Ariya tried on her own for a while, but wanted to take a more formal retreat, so she took off on a trip around the world. In Thailand, she joined a course at Wat Suan Mokkh, and then several Tibetan retreats in India. Two years later, she fell in love with an Australian man, and ended up following him back to his country, where she learned about an upcoming visit from Chan Myay Yeiktha Sayadaw U Janaka, a teacher in the Mahasi tradition. U Janaka encouraged Ariya to slow down her movements, so as to be able to observe every moment of mental and physical action. She found the results “stunning.” She had found her way.It was 1992, and very hard for foreigners to get visas for extended periods in Myanmar, but U Janaka managed to get her a six-month visa. She decided to ordain temporarily as a nun. But as months stretched into years, Ariya stayed in robes. She was amazed by what she experienced. “With the meditation, mindfulness, and concentration, and looking carefully, just like becoming an electronic microscope, we see more and more deeply into the true nature of this body of physical processes.”Over time, she picked up the Burmese language, which eventually led to her role as translator for Chan Myay Myaing Sayadaw U Indaka. She moved from the Yangon branch to the Hmawbi monastery, where longer meditation retreats were held, and became the foreign manager, and eventually, a teacher there. Her teaching career only grew from here. Alongside Daw Viranani and Chan Myay Myaing Sayadaw, she began offering intensive mettā retreats in English. Before COVID, the course was so popular that yogis would fly from all over the world to attend, and it was usually filled just days after registration opened.Today, Ariya is heartbroken about the current coup. “My heart is bleeding, and I'm so sad about what is happening in Myanmar right now,” she says. But as the devastation from the conflict continue to wreak havoc in the country, Ariya comes back to how much gratitude she has for the priceless spiritual lessons she learned there. “The fact that in Burma, the practice of meditation is respected and understood as something very precious. This makes Burma so special!... I find many people who have come to Burma have felt the same.”

Stephen Campbell has spent the last twelve years studying labor movements in Myanmar and other Southeast Asian countries. Going back and forth across the history of the country’s labor movement, he describes something of a convoluted legacy of the role of labor in Myanmar, leading through the transition period and into the coup.1988 was a watershed year for labor in Myanmar, according to Campbell. After being declared illegal in the 1962 coup, informal labor unions began to spring up, initiated by workers unhappy with the military regime. But when the new regime took over following the failure of the democratic revolution, many labor leaders soon found themselves behind barsSmall changes finally came under the Thein Sein administration in 2011, when workers were allowed to unionize legally. Then the following year, tripartite collective bargaining was permitted by workers. But those gains are diminished somewhat because Burmese laborers are more dependent than ever on their wages, due to large-scale military- and corporate-land grabs throughout much of the countryside, which stripped countless poor families of their homes—and for many, thus their livelihoods—without any legal recourse. And overall, working conditions remained deplorable, with low pay, long hours, and unsafe conditions.Just six days after the military took power in 2021, 4,000 factory women, mostly young women, took to the streets in downtown Yangon. Campbell says that the organizing that took place in the initial days following the coup by labor was a template for the even larger, more general strikes that followed.Campbell sees much potential in the role of labor during the current revolution. He notes that if Burmese workers can develop greater solidarity, they would have the ability to shut the country down, a power that few other groups in the country can claim. And if they were able to do that, Campbell doesn’t see how the military would be able to fill their positions with replacement workers. Yet for that to happen, workers would need substantial outside support; many are living in dire economic conditions, and some compelled to return to their factory jobs to support their families.

“You can you hear from how I speak that these days, I am very distracted and distressed by the development of the entire thing,” Han Htoo Khant Paing admits during this urgent and emotional interview.Han Htoo is the author of a recent The Diplomat article describing the four state executions that the Tatmadaw has ordered. In the context of the military’s terrible brutality and atrocities—abducting, raping, burning, and killing with impunity since the start of the coup in February, 2021—some may wonder about the significance of just four killings.  But Han Htoo believes they are very important and symbolic.Two of the condemned, Hla Myo Aung and Aung Thura Zaw, are accused of the murder of a schoolteacher they believed to be a military informer. The other two are very prominent names from the democracy movement over the past few decades. One, Ko Jimmy was a student leader back in 1988 as well as being one of the key organizers of the 2007 Saffron Revolution. The other is an important Burmese hip hop artist named Zayar Thaw, who was also an elected Member of Parliament.Moving to the wider international context, Han Htoo is unsure what larger bodies could—and would—do. He focuses his comments on ASEAN (The Association of Southeast Asian Nations), Han Htoo unfortunately doubts that ASEAN will exert its influence beyond pro forma actions. He explains, “What [ASEAN member states] are really concerned about is stability, and the regional security threat,” and the executions don't really fit into that calculus directly. However, Han Htoo believes that the executions will only instigate more resentment from the resistance, which could further escalate the conflict and generate increased instability.In closing, Han Htoo urges listeners to do whatever they can in sharing his article and this interview, and writing to one’s local elected officials. He reminds us that if enough pressure is put on the Tatmadaw, it may literally save lives. “Please do anything that you can to save the lives of four champions of democracy and human rights.”

Soeya Min first got his start in the travel industry, then switched to the entertainment field. When the pandemic struck, with a lot of free time on his hands, he started learning about psychology.All these endeavors led him to podcasts, and he started up his own program, called Thoughts and Opinions, in which he talks with guests from a wide range of backgrounds. More than just looking to boost his own platform, Soeya Min is looking to helping elevate the entire local podcasting industry in Myanmar.The coup has helped him appreciate the value of psychology, which he now recognizes as critical to helping ameliorate the varying degrees of trauma that people have been going through. With a colleague, he opened his own mental health service platform, and now supports many who are in need. In Myanmar, however, this was no easy task because of the stigma carried by issues of “mental health.”Soeya Min feels that the entire country has been living through trauma since the coup, and has seen an acute rise in depression cases. Some of his recent clients have included defected soldiers, which provides a rare insight into the psychology of the Tatmadaw. Such work has required him to listen without judgment, hard as that may be, while realizing that what the soldiers really need is a type of re-parenting.Soeya Min’s understanding of psychology is influenced by his Buddhist meditation practice, and has been intrigued to realize how closely related the two actually are. While mainly self-taught as a practitioner, he has drawn on some techniques from the Mahasi tradition. These days, he has also found a focus on mettā particularly helpful, especially as a mental health professional dealing with clients who are going through terrible circumstances.As a mental health professional, Soeya Min is quite concerned with how long the Burmese people can keep going without any outside assistance. “All the Burmese people are asking for support... But when you have not received the same reaction or support [as Ukraine], people might turn cynical. That's what I'm afraid of, people get cynical and down. Then what to do?”

Like many of his Bamar colleagues, Khun Be Du and his Karenni community first attempted to resist the military coup through non-violent means. When that could no longer be sustained, he banded together with friends to form a local defense force. Today, he is playing a leading role in the Karenni Nationalities Defense Force (KNDF), while also serving as Deputy Minister for Natural Resources and Environmental Conservation for the National Unity Government (NUG).Tatmadaw incursions into Karenni state are not new. Khun Be Du recalls hearing about crackdowns following Ne Win’s 1962 coup, when they attempted to deprive ethnic forces of food, funding, intelligence, and recruits. Peace negotiations were finally achieved in the transition period, finally allowing much-needed development work to proceed.But the Tatmadaw has rekindled past horrors. They now station 3,500 soldiers in Karenni State and have strategically terrorized over 100 villages. “We have to fight it,” Khun Be Du says simply. He estimates that for every local fighter killed, the Burmese military loses 30 men. In the face of such untenable losses, the Tatmadaw has taken a different tack, using tanks, mortar and artillery fire against vulnerable populations, and targeting schools, hospitals, IDP camps and other civilian centers.Perhaps the Tatmadaw’s worst evil came on an otherwise holy date for the largely Christian Karenni: December 24th, 2021. Soldiers stopped vehicles and gathered passengers into a group, stole their valuables and then proceeded to torture and kill them, then burning the bodies.Given that the atrocities being perpetuated on a daily basis in Karenni state are equally as bad as the current Russian aggression in Ukraine, Khun Be Du is frustrated that the plight of his people isn’t gathering more international attention and support. He ponders, “I wonder how much we have to die so that the international community will take action.”

The days turned dark in March 2020 when the Burmese military began attacking and killing nonviolent protesters. Soon after the crackdown, activists still courageous enough to take to the streets began holding signs that read: “We Need R2P.” R2P, or the Responsibility to Protect, is an international norm that the UN unanimously adopted in 2005, which purports to protect populations around the world from atrocity crimes, such as ethnic cleansing. However, R2P is not a legal doctrine, and so it can only be enforced when there is the political will to do so, and Scott feels it is most certainly needed now in Myanmar. But the international community has yet to act.This inaction has caused frustration among Burmese activists who have been calling for R2P for over a year now. Our guest today, Liam Scott, believes that criticism should not be directed at the R2P doctrine itself, but rather at those international bodies who refuse to respond.Scott thinks that the NUG has certainly “been specific in what particular tools of R2P they want the international community to employ, like with arms embargoes, with sanctions on oil and gas, and with depriving the military of the legitimacy that it craves on the international stage.” He also suggests taking a more nuanced view of R2P is more realistic as well as optimistic, where “boots on the ground intervention” is the only sign of effectiveness. He hopes that there can be a string of smaller successes that gradually develop into something larger. Still, Scott confesses he simply doesn’t know what more beyond the horrible things the Tatmadaw are already doing that would push international organizations to action. And he certainly wishes something would be done. Scott points to the fact that the Burmese military has never been successfully prosecuted for any past crimes, and suggests this is one reason why they are acting now with such impunity. He admits that the wheels of justice move slowly… though perhaps far too slowly for those victims still being persecuted. “I completely recognize and empathize with the fact that so many of these questions are coming from a place of pure desperation and frustration with an international community that has done so little in response,” Scott concludes.

The Myanmar military’s violent response to the democracy movement has caused angst among many devout Burmese Buddhists about how to defend themselves and their fundamental freedoms, while remaining true to their religion. Many are faced with that line where the cold edge of sila (ethics) melts along the warm edge of lived experience. Is sila black-and-white, or might there be more shades of grey? Bhikkhu Bodhi helps unpack this moral quandary in this follow-up discussion to our interview last year.Bhikkhu Bodhi acknowledges that the farther one’s own reality is from needing to make terrible, life-or-death choices, the easier it probably is to take an absolutist perspective on observing sila. However, those situations now unfortunately symbolize the “real reality” that the people of Myanmar face on a daily basis. What is compassionate guidance for those who do face such kinds of choices, who do have to act to save loved ones from the indiscriminate, murderous violence of the Tatmadaw, and restore basic safety and freedoms to their country? Bhikkhu Bodhi establishes two related frames of reference within which we can make reasonable choices. The first is to know the intent of our mind. It is not the action itself, but the intention that matters from a karmic perspective, and we should never kill out of hate. The second is to be sure of the reasons behind our actions. If we are not motivated by hatred of the enemy, but feel there is no other choice in order to save the lives of innocent people, it’s the very best we can do. Bhikkhu Bodhi also stresses that in the suttas, the Buddha is never depicted as being faced with these kinds of moral dilemmas. And he reminds us that this is the complex, modern, 21st century world we live in, not the 5th century BCE. So he says that the appropriate teaching around these issues is perhaps not so “obvious.” 

Kenton Clymer joins the podcast to speak about his book, "A Delicate Relationship: The United States and Burma/Myanmar since 1945." In the waning days of World War II, Americans were primarily concerned with stopping the spread of Communism, especially after Mao’s revolution, which thrust neighboring Burma into an important geopolitical position. Initially, the US thought that U Nu, Burma’s first Prime Minister, was too Socialist-leaning, while Ne Win, the eventual dictator, was seen as an anti-Communist strongman.The 1950s were a challenging decade for the Burmese government. The country’s ethnic groups were suspicious of a powerful central government—with some like the Karen actively fighting against it—and the Chinese and Americans were engaged in geopolitical maneuvering in the north of the country.After Ne Win’s second coup in 1962, the primary concern on the American side was ensuring that Burma didn’t fall into the Soviet or Chinese camp as a result. For the next 26 years, the US looked on as civil liberties continued to erode, the economy collapsed, ethnic groups pushed for greater rights, scores of Indians were exiled, and the country became increasingly isolated and shut off from the rest of the world.Besides Communism, the only other real area of American interest in Burma was the narcotics trade. As Ne Win was staunchly opposed to drugs, he accepted American support, including aircraft and intelligence sharing, to eradicate the poppy fields. However, it is uncertain how effective this collaboration was, and in fact human rights activists later discovered that the Tatmadaw used the chemical sprays on human targets in the country’s ethnic regions.The perception of Burma, and the shape of US relations, changed irrevocably in 1988, with the violent crackdown on student protests and the nullification of the subsequent election. The anti-Communist prism through which the American government’s Burma policy had been viewed for decades changed to one of human rights; Aung San Suu Kyi was its figurehead.  Clymer addresses some important developments in recent Myanmar history up to the NLD’s electoral victory in 2015, when his book was published, and discusses what occurred since. While he sees recurring cycles at play in the current situation, he also has reason for optimism. He feels that the current group of Gen-Z activists will not put up with oppressive military rule like in the past.

Ma Thida’s book, Prisoner of Conscience, details her remarkable and inspiring life journey.She was attending medical school when, in 1988, the military violently suppressed peaceful protesters. Soon, she found herself volunteering at local NLD offices that had formed in the wake of the unrest. In 1993 Ma Thida was arrested on a trumped up charge and given 20 years.Adjustment to prison life was not easy. She first found relief in the form of smuggled books, which she could only read secretly under a blanket. But over time, she turned to meditation. Transforming her prison cell into a meditation cell, she informed inmates and guards alike she would be practicing intensively for up to twenty hours per day.She worked with teachings from the Mahasi and Mogok traditions, and carried on a clandestine correspondence with Chan Myay Yeitha Sayadaw U Janaka. She mainly chose to practice Cittanupassana (contemplation of mind). And as might be expected in a prison, she focused in particular on the experience of dukkha (suffering).In the meantime and unbeknownst to her, Ma Thida’s arrest had turned into something of a cause célèbre abroad, attracting celebrity support, and even a visit from President Bill Clinton’s foreign emissary, Bill Richardson. Her case was also mentioned at the UN’s Fourth World Conference on Women held in 1995 in Beijing.Ma Thida was released in 1999, her prison sentence commuted. She did not involve herself further in politics, but has continued to followed the country’s momentous events, including the rise and fall of Aung San Suu Kyi. But as someone who was by Aung San Suu Kyi’s side during her initial rise to prominence, she expresses a concern that her status as an icon may have gone to her head, and also that she never truly understood the Tatmadaw.Today, many young Burmese activists have turned to her book to better understand their own path forward. For her part, Ma Thida, is impressed by how much this current generation seems to know, and how much and how fast they are able to learn. For this current generation of democracy activists, Ma Thida advises them to “focus on principle, not on person… [keep] an eye on the will of the majority of people, not just one person or yourself.”

While our recent episodes have focused on the reality in Myanmar, this show explores the condition of allies outside the country who support the democracy movement. Although free from physical harm and living in basic safety, many find that they shoulder a heavy emotional burden by immersing themselves so deeply in the struggles and trauma experienced every day by the people of Myanmar, even if from afar.Rick Hanson is a mindfulness practitioner “interested in bringing a kind of Mahayana spirit of foregrounding and appreciation of notions of emptiness and sort of the unconditioned ground of all, combined with the rigor and the clarity, and the precision and the moral foundations that we find in Theravada Buddhism and in early Buddhism altogether.” He is a Senior Fellow at UC Berkeley’s Greater Good Science Center and founding the Wellspring Institute for Neuroscience and Contemplative Wisdom, as well as a best-selling author, penning Buddha’s Brain among other important works.Rick suggests several good practices to become more grounded even in the most difficult of situations. First, there is mindfulness, which he describes as the “capacity to witness your experiences, rather than being completely consumed by them, completely swept along and hijacked by them.” He notes that the Buddha taught about the importance of balancing compassion with equanimity, and how strengthening the latter is able to build up the former. The second is a “feeling of heart,” which Rick characterizes as a sense of connection with other people, or perhaps any living being, or even nature. Third is in developing a more expansive physical perspective, such as gazing at the horizon or sky, which helps bring us into the present neurologically, and dissolves self-preoccupation. And, Rick advises us to be on guard against negative concepts that can easily become embedded in heart and mind.  For example, we can avoid becoming engulfed in the agony of the moment by recognizing the good that still exists in the world.Rick recommends as well that activists seek camaraderie among themselves, creating a community of mutual support, as well as to consciously imbue a sense of meaning and purpose into one’s efforts. He strongly urges activists to engage self-care, such as finding time to rest. “You can't do this stuff 24 hours a day. You need a break!”

The past ten years of Myanmar’s history have certainly not been boring, and journalist Mratt Kyaw Thu has been there to chronicle a lot of it.Hailing from Rakhine state, Mratt made his way to Yangon in 2005, graduating from Dagon University and going into journalism soon after. He worked for Mizzima, where he ended up on the crime beat, and also began covering stories about the military’s snatching up bits of prime real estate throughout the country.Mratt then began filing a series of reports about the drug trade, tracing the routes that traffickers used to smuggle in methamphetamines from the Golden Triangle region.  He was based in Maungdaw where, on October 9, 2016, Muslim residents of the city staged an attack on the police. Mratt instantly realized the significance of the moment, and the events he personally witnessed would resonate around the world.Later, Mratt was informed by several sources that a second attack would be coming. He urgently warned authorities at every level, but his words went unheeded. Not long after, about thirty police stations were attacked. This violence in turn became the impetus for the displacement of over 90,000 Rohingyas.Mratt returned to Maungdaw with some journalist colleagues, but they were identified as outsiders by someone who gathered a mob to harass them. The situation got dangerously tense, but eventually they managed to escape in a hired car. On the way out, Mratt saw entire Muslim villages burned to the ground.Mratt also discussed how his home region of Rakhine has been faring since the military coup. “Everyone's talking about Rakhine and the Arakan Army [AA], and why they don’t fight against the military.” Mratt notes. He explains that before the coup, many Bamar openly supported the Tatmadaw in their offensives against the AA. There are many complex negotiations taking place now.At present, Mratt is focused on telling the story of the ongoing conflict as best as he can—doing so from Spain, as being a journalist has become too personally dangerous in Myanmar since the coup. These days, Mratt has difficulty even seeing those Facebook memories that pop up automatically from previous years—they now seem filled with false optimism and fake news. “People learned a lot,” he says. “So I think those kinds of lessons learned will be something different in the future for my country and for my own people.”

On February 1st, 2021, General Min Aung Hlaing orchestrated a military coup in Myanmar. On February 24th, 2022, Russian President Vladimir Putin authorized missiles and airstrikes as the first blow in his invasion of Ukraine. On today’s show, two very experienced and highly credentialed international relations experts compare and contrast these two crises: Hunter Marston, who speaks to the situation in Myanmar, and Emily Channell-Justice, who addresses the Russian invasion of Ukraine.As neither Ukraine nor Russia are signatories to the International Criminal Court, Emily notes that it is up to the ICC to pursue its own charges. In Myanmar, Hunter explains that it is unlikely that the junta will own up to its genocide charge; he adds that the NUG might possibly cooperate with any investigation. Neither Russia, Ukraine, nor Myanmar have signed on to the Rome Statue of the International Criminal Court, which defines genocide and other crimes against humanity.In terms of international organizations, Ukraine is neither a member of the European Union nor NATO, although both were immediately supportive following the Russian invasion. As for the situation in Myanmar, Hunter references the European dependence on Russian gas, saying, “I don't think any country is dependent on Myanmar's exports or its resources. But that hasn't stopped [ASEAN] from in part protecting the Myanmar military.”Another parallel between the two conflicts is the question of negotiations. Hunter feels the military does not intend to engage in any real, constructive dialog that brings with it the possibility of losing any of their power in future elections. For her part, Emily similarly sees little reason to trust any promises made by Putin.In terms of the international response to the respective conflicts, Emily points to the outpouring of support that has come in the way of popular support, funds, weapons, medical supplies, and more. This is, perhaps, the most jarring point of difference when contrasting the situations in the two countries. Hunter explains, “The international community, for better or worse, has not taken sides to support either the Myanmar military or the PDFs or the ethnic armed groups across the country.”

Episode #98: Linn Thant never expected to see another military coup in Myanmar. In 1988, he was arrested, locked away, tortured for years and eventually sentenced to death. So Linn Thant did not expect to live much longer. Linn Thant spent a total of twenty years in prison, eight of those on Death Row. He was beaten so badly that both his leg and collarbone were broken, and every tooth was knocked out. His meditation practice saved him, though, being the one thing that they could never take away. He would awake early and meditate for hours in his cell, following the instructions he had learned in the Mahasi and Taungpulu traditions. Still, they tried; his prison guards beat him until he couldn’t stand if they saw him sitting cross-legged. And even when his body was too broken to endure more punishment, he would just pay close attention to his sense doors. There certainly was nothing good coming in, but he took everything as objects of contemplation, whether the sounds of a nearby inmate being tortured, or the taste of food so rotten and vile that even dogs wouldn’t touch it.But amazingly, through all the torture and abuse, Linn Thant says he has never harbored a single thought of ill will towards any of his tormenters. He even found gratitude for his death sentence, as it gave him a clear sense of impending death, which only sharpened his meditation.Linn Thant was released as part of a general amnesty in 2008. However, he soon realized that he still could not remain safely in his native country. He settled in the Czech Republic in 2011, and he has been there ever since. The National Unity Government has officially named him their Czech representative.As devoted as he is to his meditation practice, Linn Thant is not afraid to call out Buddhist monks who continue to emphasize the virtues of patience and pacifism to their followers, which carries an underlying message of accepting the brutal dictatorship.

From deep meditative absorption with Pa Auk Sayadaw, to sitting in caves in southern Spain in the company of drug addicts and criminals, Beth Upton has led a most amazing spiritual life!  In 2008, Beth went to Pa Auk Monastery in Myanmar to take a deeper plunge into the spiritual life, and she remained there for five years. She cultivated deep states of jhāna under his tutelage, and enhanced powers of perception. Beth describes the peace and happiness of jhānic states in compelling terms. She contrasts the fleeting happiness born of satisfying sense desire, with the deep blissfulness of jhānic states that develop with a mind of non-clinging. In the Pa Auk system, one turns the deeply concentrated mind towards seeing beyond concepts, into the moment-by-moment change of materiality and mentality, which leads to some quite unusual experiences.After leaving Myanmar, Beth—still in robes—ended up living in a series of caves in southern Spain. These caves “were inhabited by addicts and criminals. It's like the Gypsy suburb!” But no one gave her any problems, and eventually some even approached her asking to be taught meditation. After she disrobed in 2018, the transition to lay life was not completely smooth. Around this time, she became involved in a non-sexual, but abusive relationship, which Beth opens up about in a vulnerable and honest way. It was the most suffering she ever experienced, and at the time did not see how any of the skills she had learned on the cushion could help her. She had spent so long practicing to dissolve concepts of self, that her “self” did not know how to respond when the abuser crossed the line. Eventually, she worked her way out of that challenging relationship, and in retrospect learned a lot. Now, both as a meditator and as a teacher, she is trying to integrate meditative skills with life skills, balancing a “soft inner, trusting core” with a “harder, protective, outer layer.”Pa Auk Sayadaw has encouraged her inclination to teach in the West, and told her to go with the flow and teach from her heart, which provides more flexibility. In that spirit, she bases her teaching on the Pa Auk method, but tailors her instruction to individual meditators. 

Some listeners may recall Chit Tun’s first interview with Insight Myanmar, just weeks after the coup was launched. At that time, he was leading nonviolent protests throughout Yangon. He was hiding out at a monastery, his voice hoarse from the speeches he’d been giving, and the internet being cut in the middle of the talk. Shortly after that interview, Chit Tun escaped a manhunt by going on the run, ultimately finding refuge in Karen state. He spent the better part of the next year there in combat training, eventually being asked to take a leadership position.  It was a challenging year, too, both personally and for the movement.Looking back, Chit Tun realized that in the early days of the protests, his vision was narrow and local, focused mainly on the loss of freedom within his own community. But over time, he realized that he was not fighting merely for the rights of his own group, but for everyone living in the country… even those different to him. In particular, he thought about how the military manipulated Buddhism to divide the country.Chit Tun found he was resisting the coup to support democracy on one hand, yet concerned with Buddhism’s continuing ability to flourish in Myanmar on the other. Did he want to see Myanmar as a Buddhist state that provided overt support to monasteries and pagodas, or a federalist country founded on principles of equality and democracy?This concern generated a deeper scrutiny into his own faith, exposing previously unquestioned assumptions that he harbored about his religion’s superiority. His internal conflict was not over what the historical Buddha taught, but in how people in powerful positions in Burmese society were interpreting and manipulating those teachings. Where his own interest in Buddhism stemmed from being a better person in the world, he found that it was being used by a select group of generals, crony businessmen, and monks as a means of increasing their own power, wealth and prestige, while creating divisions amongst other groups. Ultimately, he came to realize that Buddhism can survive in any free society without state support, as it only needs the pure hearts of the practitioner in order to thrive.

Nelson Mandela famously said, “Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” Conversely, one of the best ways to prevent change within a society is to limit access, censure what is taught and stifle creative thought. And the military leadership in Myanmar have been doing just this for generations. Saw Tar fills in as guest host in this episode about the role of education in Burmese society. The educational system of a country is charged with instilling knowledge and values in its younger generation, so it is a helpful lens to use when trying to understand the present shape of a society. Saw Tar examines how the failures of the school system have contributed to many of the ongoing problems we see today in Myanmar. He first speaks to Terrence Htoo. Terence spent half his schooling in Myanmar and the other half in the United States, so is able to contrast the two systems of education. Moreover, Terence is ethnic Karen, so his perspective on the Burmanization policies of the government is especially valuable. Anne, an 18-year old, currently attends an international school in Yangon. Very few Burmese are able to attend these more privileged institutions, but she fortunately was able to get a scholarship. Anne gives some insight into the curriculum and culture at these schools, and how they differ from the country’s public schools.

Pyae Phyo Kyaw, a gay doctor, is simultaneously helping his countrymen while taking a sledgehammer to the barriers that have long defined Burmese society.Pyae Phyo Kyaw was aware of his sexual orientation from a young age, and the lack of acceptance grew heavy. He attempted suicide several times, until he finally found a way to let go of his inner shame. He was determined to come out, which he did after he had obtained his medical degree.After the military coup was launched in February 2021, Pyae Phyo Kyaw was touched to see members of the LGBT community marching alongside everyone else in the streets in the nonviolent protests. He also began to detect a kind of sea change in attitudes taking place before his eyes among the online community in Myanmar, particularly on Facebook, and was further amazed when the NUG appointed an openly gay minister.Pyae Phyo Kyaw and his partner chose to leave their employment at a Mandalay hospital to help those in the thick of the conflict zone, settling on an area in Karenni state, where they established a mobile medical tent. Since then, they have treated villagers who have lost limbs to landmines, and seen others die from treatable diseases because they simply couldn’t get the proper medicine. Combined with what that population has had to so long endure, it strengthens Pyae Phyo Kyaw’s commitment to help build a more equitable society in Myanmar.Beyond acting as a bridge between two different cultures, the couple is also making a profound impact on Burmese society as well, having become something of online celebrities. Pyae Phyo Kyaw is quite aware of how their service and sacrifice are breaking down social and cultural barriers for perhaps the first time in that country’s history.

In the aftermath of student strikes in 1968, Alan left Columbia University and moved to Berkeley, California. There, he found himself amid a whirlwind of social unrest: the counter-culture movement, anti-war protests, experimentation with mind-altering chemicals, and increasingly violent crackdowns by the police. Eventually Alan came across Philip Kapleau’s book, The Three Pillars of Zen, and was immediately intrigued. Zen was not completely unfamiliar to Alan. Coming from New York, he was personally familiar with several Beat writers and their flirtations with Zen. But in Kapleau, found something much more substantial. This led to Alan’s first engagement with Buddhist practice, and he eventually took up the meditation of Sōtō Zen, “a practice that is quite receptive and fluid.”As Alan was refining his life as a practitioner, he also started reflecting on the connection between spirituality and broader social and political issues. This led to Alan’s evolving into an “Engaged Buddhist,” through which he viewed the eradication of suffering as applying both to individuals as well as communities.Alan also became increasingly interested in Myanmar. Observing the constrictions that had been placed on the monkhood under a military dictatorship for so many years does not leave him feeling optimistic about the future of Buddhism there. Neither has the lack of involvement by the Sangha in the democratic movement gone unnoticed by Generation Z protesters, who are now sacrificing everything for their country’s freedom. One of the unintended consequences of the coup is that, however it ultimately sorts out, the future of Buddhism in Myanmar is uncertain. Alan’s perspective on the Burmese resistance is quite relevant, given his own involvement as a Buddhist practitioner in “street politics” during the turbulent 1970s in the US. While he came to the conclusion that personally supporting violence would ultimately not be effective, he acknowledges that 2022 Myanmar is not 1968 California, and doubts that a strict adherence to nonviolence alone would be effective in Myanmar’s case.Engaged Buddhist action stands in stark contrast to the widespread spiritual bypass that seems to characterize a large segment of the Western meditator community. Alan has also observed this, commenting that it occurs “often in an individual context where people allow their practice to just cover for the work that they need to be doing on themselves… The spiritual bypass is putting on blinders so that you really can't see what's in front of you.”

Most people would not regard a violent military coup as the best time to start an organization, but that's exactly what Katie Craig and her partners did! Katie has worked with minority language communities around Myanmar for years, which gives her unique insight into the historical, cultural, and political challenges that such communities face. Given the Burmanization policies of the government, this has been no easy task. One of the biggest battlegrounds has been the mandated use of Burmese in all public schools, which often goes hand-in-hand with the prohibition of ethnic language use in the classroom. Katie emphasizes that language is more than simply a way of speaking, it’s also a way of being in the world, and a major factor in identity. She views language diversity as an opportunity for learning, and stresses that her organization is not trying to challenge the supremacy of the Burmese language within the country, but to try to ensure that its instruction does not wipe out indigenous languages. Katie speaks passionately of the trauma that befalls a community when it loses its language, or when it is subject to oppression at the hands of the language majority community. Katie describes another layer of complexity regarding the language situation in Myanmar. Each of the standard, generalized ethnic language categories, such as “Kachin” or “Chin,” actually contains a variety of dialects. Identity is often rooted in temporary political or survival needs. And to make things more complicated still, some language minority communities still do not have their own formalized script, and might alternately use either Burmese or Roman characters depending on the context, and based on preferences in identity and alignment.To help address these complex issues, Katie co-founded Myanmar Indigenous Community Partners (MICP). Part of their work involves assisting peoples within Myanmar who have no written form of language to create one. The work of MICP helps language minority groups not only preserve their language, but also their culture and identity along with it.  

“I think Tatmadaw is a place where soldiers and their families have lost their human rights,” Su Thit asserts. Her bold criticism of Myanmar's military is somewhat unusual because her husband was one of the several hundred thousand soldiers employed by the Tatmadaw.  The couple had enjoyed beginning their adult lives in a transitioning democracy. In a free society, the military would have its rightful place in society, and so at first, they did not need to choose sides between the Tatmadaw and the country’s evolving democratic reforms. But that all changed the moment the coup was launched.Su Thit and Htet Myat committed early on to joining the Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM). They had to endure great risk and discomfort to get to safety. Their life now is a challenge: without any belongings, having lost many friends, and unable to see family, they live under challenging conditions; on some days, she doesn't even have enough water. And yet, they are not just focused on trying to get by, but doing everything they can to encourage more soldiers and their families to leave their posts. Su Thit set up an organization called “Spouses of People’s Soldiers,” which supports military wives in encouraging their husbands to defect, and helps them establish a life outside the Tatmadaw. They also provide opportunities for those who have decided to defect, as they begin to build a new life. Su Thit has been able to receive enough donations to support over 50 families!Su Thit’s organization is run and supported almost entirely by Burmese in-country, and she admits to being slightly perplexed—and feeling isolated—by the lack of support she has received from foreigners, especially those who have long lived and worked in Myanmar, many of whom she had counted as friends. This is another important reason that our platform is so committed to bringing her story to listeners around the world. “Our revolution is close to victory,” Su Thit assures us. With increased defections, “the military can have all the guns in the world, but if there are no soldiers left to use them, we win.”

Like so many other spiritual seekers from the West, Kim Shelton and her husband were attracted to Myanmar by the opportunities that the country presents for developing a deeper Buddhist practice. Kim’s experience there inspired her to create a feature-length documentary, One Thousand Mothers, which examines life in a Buddhist nunnery in the Sagaing Hills.Kim learned that many girls became nuns due to poverty, conflict, or difficult family circumstances, and so the decision to ordain is not necessarily because of spiritual yearning. The young nuns in the film honestly and insightfully discuss both the value of the renunciate’s life, and the alluring attractions of the mundane world. One scene depicts a girl who has left the nunnery, and returns for a dialog with her nun friends, wearing make-up, earrings, etc. The camera captures the fascinating conversation that ensues about the relative merits of lay versus worldly life. The film does not shy away from the more challenging life that Myanmar’s nuns have in contrast to monks. One scene about alms round depicts monks receiving hot spoonsful of cooked rice and nuns getting only small pinches of dry rice.Kim was delighted when the Abbess herself accepted the invitation to be interviewed. She had never been on camera before, and the experience was memorable for everyone involved.  In one of the movie’s more memorable scenes, the Abbess admitted that the presence of the film crew was a disruption to the discipline and education they try to instill in the nuns, yet affirmed that it would all be worthwhile in the end if the film enabled foreigners to learn more about the Buddha’s teachings.One Thousand Mothers provides viewers with a unique opportunity to see the inner workings of a living Buddhist nunnery. The end result is that the nun’s life in Myanmar is authentically portrayed, without falling into the trap of Western exotification, and the nuns interviewed on screen are extremely forthcoming, providing a glimpse into the very minds of these renunciates.

When films examine a subject in detail, it’s sometimes described as a “meditation on…” that particular theme. Golden Kingdom, a 2015 film by Brian Perkins, fits this expression in more ways than one.Brian himself is a dedicated meditator, which affected the artistic choices he made as director. For example, Brian and his crew slept in the monastery for the duration of the shoot, and he spent every morning meditating before he started filming. This meditative approach also gave him the space to linger on certain shots, encouraging a patience on the part of the viewer.Golden Kingdom tells the story of four Buddhist novices in Shan State, whose Sayadaw is called away on urgent business, leaving them alone in a remote monastery. The plot then takes a dark turn when conflict breaks out, and survival becomes the central issue. But the story arc is not the typical, linear/logical structure of Western narratives; the workings of karma are acknowledged, and Burmese folk elements begin to blend into reality, along with a childlike perspective that creeps in as a way to shape the audience’s understanding of what is taking place.The genesis of the film is a story in itself. Brian had visited Myanmar some years previously as a backpacker, and stumbled on that monastery. The setting inspired a movie full-blown in his head.  However, turning his dream into a reality was anything but easy. In making his preparations to return, Brian found himself on a government blacklist. But he eventually found a way in, with just a one-week visa, and his crew had to disassemble and smuggle in much of the operating equipment. It was a long hike from the nearest town, and everything had to be hauled in on bamboo poles, including generators because the remote monastery didn’t have electricity.Once the film was completed, the digital files were copied on hard disks, and smuggled out by friends unaffiliated with the movie. Meanwhile, one of his translators tried to extort him, and Brian had overstayed his visa, so had to pay a “fixer” to be able to exit the country. Still, he feels it was all easily worth it in the end.

Kenneth Wong, a Burmese language instructor at UC Berkeley, has spent a lifetime studying the history of Burmese films, and is one of the organizers of the Burma Spring Benefit Film Festival. He grew up in Yangon half a century ago and remembers the formulaic, romantic comedies that the Burmese movie industry churned out each year, escapist films that rarely touched on relevant social issues. There were also Bollywood movies and American blockbusters that attracted massively audiences. “I have a feeling that there were a lot of people who, if they had been given the chance to make films, they could have made really great films that were on par with foreign films, but they just weren't able to,” he remarks sadly.Everything changed with the democratic transition of the last decade, when films no longer had to pass the scrutiny of the all-powerful Censor Board. It was like a finger removed from the dike, an artistic explosion where artists could now express themselves without fear of punishment.While independent films started to take off in that more open artistic climate, Kenneth was especially impressed by the growth of locally made documentaries, which began to take on issues of social justice, ethnic minority rights, and LGBTQ issues. “Those are the sort of things that previously you couldn't even talk about openly in teashops,” he notes.And what about the stars who contributed their talents to that period of artistic blooming? While a handful have openly sided with the military and others have only attended a few rallies briefly in order to take selfies that promote their brands, others have made incredible sacrifices. Examples include Hta Hta Thet, a former beauty queen who has since joined a People’s Defense Force team, or Paing Takhon, a movie star and model who was recently sentenced to three years for his activism.

For her first post-coup documentary, Padauk: Myanmar Spring, Jeanne Hallacy’s team employed a technique called “in-depth personal storytelling,” and the results were simply stunning.  It allows the viewer a much more intimate look into how the movement—and the ensuing crackdown—developed. Padauk is one of many films featured in the Burma Spring Benefit Film Festival, a virtual streaming event with all proceeds going to humanitarian projects across Myanmar.Jeanne describes her work as rooted in the ethos of non-violence, but she also admits she is in no position to judge the move to armed resistance, noting the past 70 years of internal conflict and civil war in the country, along with the more recent outright theft of the government on the part of the military.She also heaps much praise on local journalists who are risking everything to continue to share the truth of the military’s aggressions to the world, especially those operating in ethnic regions. She describes one such local media outfit which had its offices raided by soldiers, who had to run away to avoid arrest and are now continuing their reporting from deep underground.Jeanne sees a cause for optimism in spite of everything, noting a unity she had not witnessed in all her years visiting the country. In one of the film’s more powerful scenes, an ethnic Bamar woman expresses her guilt and regret at not doing more to understand the suffering of the country’s ethnic minority communities before the coup. Her confession is symbolic of a much broader reckoning taking place within the Bamar majority.One of Jeanne’s quotes sums up the silver lining inside the country’s present, very dark cloud. “For the first time ever, I see a much-heightened awareness among the urban sectors of young people, And not just young people, but middle-aged people, civil servants… They are now willing to take the hands of their ethnic sisters and brothers, Rohingya sisters and brothers, and say, ‘We are one. We are united we are together, and we will end this military rule together.’ That's what's different.”

Little T’s ongoing nightmare started, as it did for so many Burmese people, with the violent coup launched last year by the military. Soon, the first peaceful mass protests hit the streets. Besides organizing some of the protests, the cadre of protesters Little T was involved with also helped in other important ways, such as releasing statements in both Burmese and English for various media outlets, encouraging people to join the protests through social media, and establishing safe houses.The peaceful mass protests continued for several weeks, and were gradually gaining steam when the military chose to crack down, violently. Little T was shocked that the soldiers responded with live ammunition, not rubber bullets; protesters went scattering in all directions, running for their lives, taking cover or shelter wherever it could be found.With the streets becoming so dangerous, and homes providing little safety, Little T’s group has had to continue to adjust as the conflict has escalated. Many of her team having fled or gone into hiding, and the support work they can do has branched out in several ways: supporting undercover journalists, taking care of the families of “fallen heroes,” helping at IDP (Internally Displaced Persons) camps, and aiding government workers who have joined the Civil Disobedience Movement.These tense situation, constant danger and frequent moves have been very challenging for Little T’s physical and mental health. At one point, soldiers raided an apartment right above the one she was staying in. It hit her that every phone conversation she had with her parents could turn out to be the last.“But then I asked myself the question,” she recalls, “‘Who asked you to join this movement?’” And she realized she had because it was the right thing to do. So she is willing to try and persevere.

“My own feelings would be that it would be good for Sitagu Sayadaw to leave the country and then speak out [against the military]. If he speaks out now, he would probably be arrested immediately.”Thus says Bhikkhu Cintita to preface his take on the controversies now swirling around Myanmar’s most famous living Buddhist monk, whose words and deeds since the coup have caused so much angst among the Burmese people. A long-time American scholar monk, he comes across as honest, open, nuanced, empathetic and even-keeled, and to a degree that is quite remarkable.Bhikkhu Cintita describes Sitagu Sayadaw as a kind of “Renaissance Man,” known in Myanmar as the “monk who gets things done.” There is no denying the enormous number of good works Sitagu has accomplished over the years, and his dedication to continuing to support both Dhamma projects and humanitarian missions across the country. Still, this record is mixed with a series of confounding incidents over the past few years, and coupled with his more controversial actions since the coup, many Burmese have interpreted his behavior as tacit support of the military. This has given rise to the extremely unusual situation of the laity publicly calling out this senior monk who was once so revered.  Bhikkhu Cintita picks his way through this minefield with honesty, openness, and skillful discernment. Having spent several years working on a biography of Sitagu Sayadaw, Bhikkhu Cintita provides context where he finds it lacking in the public discourse, and traces the arc of Sitagu’s political entanglement with the generals. In some cases, he frankly expresses astonishment at, and outright disappointment in, his preceptor. In other cases, he talks about how Sitagu’s actions might have been misconstrued by those who haven’t followed him as closely. In yet others, he describes a mix of the two. Even in those cases where he feels Sitagu’s actions or words might have been misunderstood, or their context not sufficiently taken into account, Bhikkhu Cintita empathetically acknowledges how and why the Burmese people have become so disappointed and angry, and how people might not be so interested in these nuances explain why this or that particular thing was said or done.

When Chuu Wai Nyein was just eighteen years old, she was with her sister at a Mandalay teashop. As they were leaving, a man sexually assaulted her sister. The event deeply traumatized them, and Chuu was horrified to learn this was not an uncommon occurrence for women in Myanmar, and the typical response was equally troubling: basically, if something happens, just stay quiet about it. Chuu decided she would work to address the relative powerlessness of women in Burmese culture. She eventually found her voice through painting. When the coup first happened, it was still relatively safe for people to assemble in non-violent gatherings outside. Chuu’s artistic skills were put to good use at demonstrations making signs that became very popular, even catching the eye of foreign journalists and observers. Long lines would form as protestors waited for her to make their personal signs. She transformed her studio apartment into a kind of warehouse, and began selling artwork on her Facebook page, with all funds going to support the Civil Disobedience Movement.But one day, the military chose to respond to a peaceful protest with force, and their crackdown sent Chuu and all her friends literally running for their lives. Moreover, it was clear that she urgently needed to empty her apartment of all protest-related material. This was tense and very dangerous work, with soldiers camped out on nearly every corner. Fortunately, she and her friends managed to clear out all the artwork just in time, as only a few days later, a dozen soldiers appeared at her door. Following this close call, Chuu realized that she could do more for the democracy movement by relocating to a place of safety, where she could speak freely. So she decided to go to France.The transition there was not easy, but Chuu adapted. She connected with some galleries, and also developed her own kind of performance art to highlight the coup, giving performances in front of the Louvre and Montmatre. Her work has been featured both in Time and on BBC. But her heart remains with the Burmese people. From afar, she appreciates her home country as never before. She is already looking beyond what she regards as an eventual victory, towards the new Myanmar she hopes to see, one which will bring female empowerment into the Burmese cultural mainstream. 

The situation in Myanmar continues to be intolerable. Day by day innocent civilians are being killed, maimed, starved, and forced from their homes, and the military continues their campaign of terror. The need for financial support is a dire one, in so many ways. The Art Against Tyranny auction was held to support the Burmese people in this time of great need. Using art to combat tyranny might feel somewhat dissonant. But art in whatever form is essentially communication that expresses the human condition. It is through art that Burmese rappers, painters, poets, graffiti artists, video editors, and others have expressed their opposition to the junta, and inspired their compatriots to continue their march to ultimate victory. It is through art that the true horror and carnage of the military's reign of terror can be conveyed to people all over the world.A New York City art gallery graciously donated its space for free to showcase revolutionary art from Myanmar artists, in order to highlight the plight of the Myanmar people. And virtually, artists from around the world have united through their art to fight against dictatorship, oppression, terror, and tyranny. Some pieces on display today are biting, while others are hauntingly beautiful…but all of it is inspiring.Please take time to see what on display, listen to artists speak of their work, and maybe buy an exquisite piece for a good cause. The more money raised, the more lives saved, and the sooner the military's campaign of death and destruction will end.

Moe, a photojournalist, has long chronicled the inhumane injustices that the Tatmadaw had committed in his country. From the jade mines of Kachin to the Rohingya camps in Rakhine, he had seen first-hand how ruthless and evil the regime could be.His first fame came in the form of pictures he took of Aung San Suu Kyi after she had been released from house arrest, and was starting to campaign in 2012. He later exposed the horrible conditions at the lucrative jade mines region of Kachin state. After that, Moe began reporting on the unfolding Rohyinga situation. In his reporting, Moe managed something that very few journalists had been able to do for the Bamar people, in that challenging and complex situation: humanize the Rohingya.When the February coup hit, Moe was faced with a somewhat unique decision: whether to document events as an objective reporter, or join in the resistance as an activist. He chose to be a journalist, and started taking pictures that very afternoon. He tried to trained himself to “just focus in my viewfinder and try to capture what's happening in the best way possible of the atrocities. But there were times where I couldn't make it. It was too intense and I couldn’t keep shooting.”Moe’s archive of work was recently recognized by the prestigious Bayeux War Correspondents in Paris, who awarded him first prize for his photojournalism. Ironically, he had to accept the award anonymously for security reasons, preventing him from receiving well-deserved, widespread recognition (at least for now) for his high achievements in the field he has devoted his life to.And while he could have decided to remain in the safety and security of France, he chose to return to Myanmar to continue his work to document the country’s continuing revolution so that the world may see. He believes that the Burmese people will soon be triumphant, and he wants to be there to take their pictures when they are! 

As many already know, the situation in Myanmar continues to be intolerable. Day by day innocent civilians are being killed, maimed, starved, and forced from their homes, and the military continues their campaign of terror. The need for financial support is a dire one, in so many ways.  And towards this end, the Art Against Tyranny auction is being held.  This supportive and hopefully inspiring event will be held over two days: the 11th and 12th of this month (Eastern US time), or 12th and 13th for those in Asia. Using art to combat tyranny might feel somewhat dissonant. But art in whatever form is essentially communication that expresses the human condition.It is through art that Burmese rappers, painters, poets, graffiti artists, video editors, and others have expressed their opposition to the junta, and inspired their compatriots to continue their march to ultimate victory. It is through art that the true horror and carnage of the military's reign of terror can be conveyed to people all over the world. A New York City art gallery, the Jane Lombard, has graciously donated its space for free to showcase revolutionary art from Myanmar artists, in order to highlight the plight of the Myanmar people. And virtually, artists from around the world have united through their art to fight against dictatorship, oppression, terror, and tyranny. Some pieces on display today are biting, while others are hauntingly beautiful… but all of it is inspiring. Please take time to see what art is on display, listen to artists speak of their work, and maybe buy an exquisite piece for a good cause! The more money raised, the more lives saved, and the sooner the military's campaign of death and destruction will end.

“It's really sad that our young people had dreams, but after the military coup, every dream of theirs has been destroyed.” So starts the interview with May, who tells us why she became a revolutionary, and updates us on how the Magway Division has fare since the coup.May had been studying in New Zealand, and had only just returned to Myanmar when the coup hit. Like many, she was unsure how to respond at first, but faced with a real-life struggle against evil, she committed herself to activism, delving into fundraising work. Because her father was so concerned for her safety, May had to keep her activities secret and stay in safe locations away from home in order to carry out her work. Her level of involvement has carried with it a serious mental and emotional burden, and May turned to a combination Buddhist meditation and a practice of “positive psychology.” She observes the mental content in her mind, and tries to give less food to those negative emotions and thoughts, which has the result of making her “relaxed and focused on the the right things.”May waxes poetic about her home region, the Magway Division, which is famous for its ancient pagodas, and a common pilgrimage destination for devout Buddhists. But sadly, the military has instigated repeated, targeted assaults in and around Magway, which have resulted in thousands of newly Internally Displaced Peoples (IDPs). May has added this issue to her mission portfolio, and is desperately trying to locate funds to support them. Compounding this even further is that the conflict has prevented farmers from tending to their crops, increasing dangers of a looming starvation. May clearly more than has her hands full! In closing, she has just one message for listeners. “To end the military regime, we have to stand together and fight back… If not, we will never, ever decrease their evil. So please become involved in this revolution.”

Imagine a conversation that ranges from The Life of Brian to the modern Burmese Sangha, from The Godfather to trashy Burmese style romance movies, from Eminem to Ashin Wirathu… and lots more in between. That is the discussion that follows with the artist, "Bart Was Not Here." Bart employs an unpredictable blend of classical influences with modern, often Western pop influences in support of his main underlying theme: social commentary on contemporary Burmese society. Bart’s primary artistic inspirations specialized in “worldbuilding”—the creation of a unique world, with all the elements of that world, believable—and that is his own creative motivation. As one might imagine, the present situation has deeply affected Bart, both as a Burmese citizen, and an artist, and he has used his artistic talent to support the movement. His works this year are strong, artistic statements on his feelings about the current situation. Perhaps surprisingly, though, Bart did not intend any of these pieces as “political statements,” per se. He views this artwork as a kind of diary about the protest movement. One of his most well-received recent works is a rendition of a photograph of a military truck being attacked and bursting into flames. For Bart, like for so many Burmese, this moment was the first time that the bully who had been terrorizing them had finally been finally punched in the nose. Staying true to his artistic inspirations, Bart continues to temper his driving home of powerful messages with a sideswipe of parody or satire. Hs explains that humor exposes the generals not as karmically-endowed divine leaders, but rather poorly-educated, deteriorating old men.

Dave LeDuc loves all things Myanmar. But maybe more than anything, Dave loves stepping into a fighting pit without gloves or shoes, and giving well-placed head butts that knock an opponent cold! Dave is Myanmar’s first— and only— foreign champion of Lethwei, a traditional martial arts boxing practice that dates back centuries.Dave became interested in mixed martial arts and trained in a variety of forms. He eventually went to Thailand, and began looking for fighting opportunities. He landed a controversial bout through the Department of Corrections, which invited Dave into a Thai maximum security prison to spar with a convicted felon. The stakes were high: if the criminal beat Dave, he would be released from prison. But Dave won, and is currently in talks about a movie being made about that encounter. That bout was also the springboard for him to enter Myanmar and learn Lethwei.  From the moment he arrived in Myanmar in 2016, he knew he had found a home. His first opponent was the then-undefeated Lethwei champion, Too Too, and after beating him became a cultural phenomenon in Myanmar. He even got the very painful Lethwei tattoos, a rite of passage in the sport.Now living in Turkey, Dave was, like so many, horrified when the coup broke in February. He knew that refusing to stay silent would close off any potential business he hopes to build in Myanmar, along with ensuring that he won’t personally be able to visit for the foreseeable future. And yet he has chosen to speak out, highlighting the struggles of the democracy movement in light of the naked aggression faced by the Burmese military. He closes with, “Keep fighting, stay strong! You're not alone. There's a lot of love from around the world.”

This is the fifth show in the “Love Letters to Myanmar” series, focusing on the role of artists in the democracy movement. It is part of an ongoing conversation about the role of art in the democracy movement, with several past and future shows continuing this exploration.At the present moment, the Burmese people are in the middle of a life-or-death struggle against an organized military that is attacking, shooting, bombing, raping, abducting, torturing, and killing their friends and family every day for the past year, and with no end in sight. Artists are now in the forefront of that movement, which insists upon basic human rights, dignity, and freedom. Far from just being a luxury to pursue when times are safe, artistic inspiration is essential in this struggle!The first guest is music producer, Aye Win. He recently assembled a dozen hip hop artists from across the country for an album, Rap Against Junta’s “Dickcouncil,” to call out the military while helping the people keep their spirits up during these difficult times. Next up is May, a poet and writer. She has also been drawing dozens of portraits of people around the world, with proceeds going entirely to her organization’s fundraising mission to help people within the Civil Disobedience Movement. The final guest is Alex. He is an Australian living in Montreal who, with a friend, designed a mural depicting the country and showing his support for the democracy movement, with a central tribute to Angel, a young woman who was tragically killed early on in Mandalay. It is our hope that this episode educates listeners about more of the great art being produced in resistance to the Tatmadaw and their cruelty.

Burmese artists are rightly gaining global recognition for their courage and bravery, standing up for freedom of expression against a murderous regime. While this is somewhat of a new phenomenon for the younger generation of Burmese artists, Darko has been at the intersection of protest and music for some time, as the lead singer of the Indie band "Side Effect."Darko grew up under the prior military regime, when one could be arrested for simply expressing oneself, and so has been well-trained in the art of hiding meaning and keeping a low profile. He feels disappointed that younger musicians don’t appreciate how hard he and his generation of artists had to struggle against the limits of censorship. Yet in spite of that, Darko continues to support their creative expression not only by his 20 years of ground-breaking artistic work, but also through creating platforms and opportunities for younger artists to get their voices out. Aside from music, Darko’s other passion in life has been spirituality and meditation, but he’s not a traditional Burmese Buddhist, especially after he looked into growing anti-Rohingya activity. He visited the camps, and was stunned at what he saw. He was overcome by guilt, and heartbroken to see how the Rohingya were being treated. This experience led to his song “Meiktila”, named after the city where terrible anti-Muslim violence had recently occurred. Because Burmese Buddhists started referencing the Buddha in order to justify violence against Muslims, he began to question everything about how organized religion was manipulating— and perhaps even perverting— the Buddha’s teachings.Ironically, moving away from traditional Buddhism is what allowed Darko’s nascent meditation practice to really take off. He became fascinated with “brainwave entrainment,” which explores how brain waves can be synced with auditory or visual stimuli.He doesn’t have a proper meditation teacher, but finds inspiration in Alan Watts, as well as the Satguru philosophy. Essentially, his practice can be boiled down to simply observing the mind without judgment. However, the military’s brutal behavior has challenged his non-judgmental observation of unfolding reality, to put it lightly. 

David Eubank didn't know that a single moment on a jungle path in 1997 would prove to be so eventful for not only his own life, but an entire nation as well. Living in Thailand at the time, David was growing distressed hearing about a Burmese military operation that was displacing over half a million people. So loading up four backpacks with medicine, he decided to travel the border to see if he could find anyone who needed help. One thing led to another, and that trip ultimately give birth to the Free Burma Rangers (FBR).In this episode’s wide-ranging interview, David goes into his background of 25 years living and supporting those many ethnic communities, sharing what he’s learned from the different groups, the various hardships they’ve faced, and even the strange and exotic foods he’s sampled. As a Christian, David’s faith in a higher power has been a major factor in his work. To this day, his faith animates all of his humanitarian work. “That's the heart of why I do it,” he says. Even in these most difficult of times, he draws on the reservoir of his faith; in spite of his first-hand knowledge of 25 years of Tatmadaw cruelty, he still tries to love his enemy. Still, this does not mean allowing entire populations to be victimized without recourse, and David acknowledges that self-defense, whether on an individual or communal level, is a basic human right everywhere in the world.Compounding the Myanmar military’s brutal tactics used has been the almost total lack of response or engagement by any international actor, a fact which has surprised and greatly distressed David, especially given the extent of the unfolding humanitarian disaster and Myanmar’s geopolitical importance. He believes there is so much good that other nations and foreign entities could still do now, if only they chose to. 

Just a short window of five minutes might have saved the life of Dr. Troy… but he doesn’t feel good about it.In a country where just practicing medicine can now be cause for arrest, Troy is a part of a network of underground doctors who tend to patients in secret, often using rudimentary equipment in undisclosed locations. Earlier this year, he was on his way to relieve another doctor, but was delayed in traffic. During those few moments, soldiers stormed in and arrested his colleague. That doctor is still in prison, a fact which weighs heavily on Dr. Troy to this day.In order to increase capacity, doctors have begun to train Burmese civilians in secret to perform some basic medical interventions if a doctor is not able to come quickly. This arose out of the tragedy that occurred during the siege of Hlaing Thaya. Even though doctors had prepared for the violence, military roadblocks prevented the injured from getting out—or doctors from getting in—and so many the wounded succumbed to otherwise treatable injuries. Compounding matters today is the Third Wave of the COVID pandemic. Because the military is preventing the importation of oxygen concentrators, and the black market cost of oxygen canisters have skyrocketed, the situation is dire.To deal with the enormous stress and mental trauma, Troy has tried to fall back on his Mogok meditation practice, but he has been unable to string together even a few moments of mindfulness. But his practice has helped him to understand his mind more, even during these challenging moments. As a Buddhist practitioner, he tries to send metta to his aggressors, acknowledging how they must still be suffering through this. No matter what they are doing on the outside, he feels that internally they must be haunted by their evil actions.For Troy, his own path is clear as he continues on in his work. “We are not going to give up now, or ever, until we we achieve or we achieve the true democracy of our country.”

One night in March, Hla Hla and her husband, Yan Min Aung, were on the rooftop of their condo as part of a neighborhood watch group, where ordinary citizens banded together to protect themselves—not from common criminals, but from those supposedly charged with protecting them. That evening, the police arrived to take down some barricades, and she took out her cell phone to film them. They saw the light of her camera, and started shooting. That experience and others caused Hla Hla and her family to flee the country. Choosing to leave Myanmar represented not only the end of a life and community in their home country, but also the realization that the innovative company they had started there, a fun, augmented-reality learning app known as 360ED, would be severely impacted as well. Hla Hla had combined her professional backgrounds in tech and education to create a service that could bring learning opportunities to those marginalized groups often left on the sidelines. And as they knew that many of those who would need the service most wouldn’t necessarily have reliable or inexpensive internet, much of the app can function even when offline.After nine years of product development, they launched in Silicon Valley in 2016, but moved operations to Myanmar as part of the “re-pat” movement, in which exiled Burmese settled back in the country during the stable and optimistic 2010s transition period. And, it was remarkable that they chose to establish their company there, essentially bringing one of the world’s most innovative and cutting-edge technological learning tools to a country that had only recently gotten on-line at all. In other words, when the coup broke, 360ED was well on its way to becoming Myanmar’s first true tech start-up success story!Of course, all this came to a crashing halt in February. Their team members began to go into hiding, and with the educational system in complete disarray, it became apparent that collaborating with school administrators would not be possible. While many outside observers have been following the daily terror and pervasive human rights violations that are now sadly commonplace in Myanmar, stories like these often slip through the cracks, and thus, the extent of the damage and disruption being unleashed by the Tatmadaw is not fully known. In the case of Hla Hla and Yan Min, this meant not only trauma in their personal life, but at least the temporary end of their technological and educational dream in Myanmar as well. 

“Myanmar people are very resilient,” Meredith Bunn says at the start of the conversation.“They have the older generation who lived through so much already. And very luckily, in a way, those people have explained to them, ‘Well, this is what we used to have to do. Let's do this again.’”As much as Meredith has witnessed countless examples of the Burmese people’s courage, she still encounters scenes evoking a horror that is hard to describe. From children so hungry they are literally eating dirt, to young girls mysteriously disappearing, to the military deliberating sending COVID-infected patients into high population areas to intentionally spread the pandemic, to depriving oxygen for infected patients literally suffocating with the illness. It doesn’t end.As someone so deeply connected to a country and a people enduring this suffering, she is clear on who she holds responsible. “I don't hate the Tatmadaw. I don't hate everyone in it. I hate Min Aung Hlaing…I hate the puppets that he has inside.” And while she understands that not every soldier is courageous enough to defect or refuse commands, many are engaging in acts of deliberate cruelty for which there is simply no excuse.While Meredith appreciates any foreigner who has decided to stand with the Burmese people, she has also found herself uncomfortable when those living in safety have arrogantly opined on what Burmese activists should or should not be doing to respond to the carnage there, made even worse if they have not researched the situation and show little interest in listening empathetically to better understand the context. She is equally concerned by what she characterizes as “voyeurism,” beyond just opinionated judgments.With all this, Meredith certainly has her hands full, but her mind and her heart are clear, and the Burmese people are fortunate to have such a person on their side.

The minute that the military took over on February 1st, Hassan was under no illusions as to what was in store. “I never believed we could win without non-violence, because I know [the military],” he said. Hassan’s answer was interrupted by a cough. He recently contracted COVID, and was only beginning to recover at the time of this interview.But while much of the population had no way to escape the oppression and terror that awaited them, Hassan did. He had grown up wealthy, and at the time of the coup was operating a string of successful businesses. “If you have money, you can build a good relationship between you and military.” This was certainly true for his family, who developed close ties with senior military leaders. It might come as a surprise that Hassan’s family, being Muslim, could be on good terms with the Burmese military, by now globally famous for its Islamophobia and Rohingya atrocities. However, Hassan, says, “The military, they have no religion! Trust me, they have only money and power.” Hassan has been helping people throughout the country, venturing into the deepest slums as well as the remote countryside. He has used his own personal funds to support thousands of CDM workers as well as PDF fighters, and begun to fundraise from foreign friends abroad to expand his work. For safety, he works alone, which often makes even the travel to those remote areas challenging enough, besides the dangers inherent in his work.Hassan believes the only way the Burmese people can ultimately win is by an influx of foreign support, including arms and military training. But he acknowledges the likelihood of this is low. And without it, the Burmese people have only their determination and endurance, and as long as they can maintain it, a sense of unity. In a country that has long been divided by ethnicity, region, and religion, Hassan now feels “there is no separation.”

Marlar has spent years researching gender studies, women’s rights, and violence against women in Burmese society. She notes that besides Myanmar being a patriarchal culture, there is the Burmese Buddhist belief of “pon,”which refers to the good karma inherently bestowed upon men. Due to pon, Marlar is prevented from meditating in certain places in Shwedagon Pagoda, which led her as a girl to wonder if even the lowest male thief has more merit than she or any other woman does in Burma.Marlar acknowledges that her critique of the ways in which Burmese women are marginalized flies in the face over a century of writings that in fact claim the opposite. Colonial British literature highlighted the greater freedoms they observed among Burmese women than in societies in other colonial lands. And more recently, several notable Burmese female writers, such as Ma Thanegi and Mi Mi Khaing, have made similar claims, pushing a theory of agency and independence for Burmese women. But Marlar claims they are writing from a place of privilege that is more indicative of their own circumstances, and at the expense of understanding the lived reality of the vast majority of other women across the country. Marlar notes that more recently, technology and the Internet have connected the Burmese people to the rest of the world, allowing the #MeToo movement to take off in Myanmar. In her view, any potential solution needs to be holistic, bringing together family, community, and culture to end this destructive cycle. She has worked with both community organizations and legislators prior to the coup on a watershed law punishing violence against women, but it was not passed, and she feels that part of the reason was that the Rohingya crisis monopolized the NLD’s attention. She also places blame squarely on Aung San Suu Kyi for not being a real feminist leader.On the sensitive topic of rape, Marlar explains that one of the main reasons it goes underreported is out of shame. However in Myanmar, there not only is shame for the woman, but also the male relatives, who feel emasculated for failing to properly protect them. This is why rape is a favored tactic of the Tatmadaw, as it undermines the pride and morale of the men they are fighting. As challenging as Marlar’s struggle for gender rights have been, nothing compares to the current state since the coup was launched, which she calls a total “nightmare in which basic human rights have disappeared. 

In Myanmar, we know that the coup has been an on-going nightmare since February, and more recently there has been a sharp, Delta-driven Covid spike that the military leadership not only can’t control, but seems driven to exacerbate. People there have started referring to the double crises as “Coupvid”, a term which accurately reflects the obstacles the Burmese people face in just being able to survive day-to-day in these challenging times. In this episode, our three guests discuss what daily life has been like during Coupvid, the possible long-term impacts of this trauma on the population, and what we can do from our own places of safety to show solidarity and support.Alyson and Sandra are medical students living in the US. They are Chinese-Burmese members of the Myanmar diaspora, experiencing Coupvid from two directions: worried about family still in Myanmar and as workers in the medical community. Both young women have been advocating on behalf of striking healthcare workers in Myanmar since February, supporting fundraisers to get critical supplies, and expressing solidarity when the Tatmadaw started targeting and arresting healthcare workers.“Michaela”, using an alias for extra security, is currently living in Yangon. She and her roommate contracted COVID-19 in July, shortly after friends notified them that they had tested positive. Michaela shares her personal story of surviving COVID-19 and nursing her roommate back to health at the same time, as well as the fear and uncertainty that she and many others face when making decisions with limited information, and no access to healthcare.

The ending line of Jessica Mudditt’s book, Our Home In Myanmar, puts a startling cap on her account of her life in Yangon in the 2010s. She writes, “Myanmar’s sudden returned to a dictatorship means that I have inadvertently written a history book.” This is the subject of the current episode, which charts Jessica’s hard-won attempts to live in Myanmar during the last decade.Jessica was primarily motivated to come to Myanmar to witness and report on the 2015 election, arriving a full three years in advance in order to be better positioned to understand that historic event. The Burmese people’s jubilation over those election results of course ended with a crash in 2021.   Jessica has struggled to understand the extremes of humanity that are found in Myanmar. “I've never understood how you can have these two types of people in one geographic area,” she says. “You have these uncouth brutes who have no humanity. And then you have some of the most gentle people in the world....”Of all the ongoing tragedies now facing Myanmar, the one that particularly grabs at her heart is the wholesale destruction of the journalism field. She bore witness to the tentative growth of an entire field as state censorship eased. It was exciting to see young Burmese reporters and photographers exploring what was becoming possible… and yet now this has all been crushed, with so many journalists on the run, imprisoned, or killed.Still, Jessica reflects on the situation with optimism. “I believe that the people will get there in the end, because they are so determined… The alternative is to live a life of total darkness…I've heard people say, ‘Let's clear the decks of the NLD as well. Let's start again, build from the bottom, and a society that's inclusive, and we can avoid some of the mistakes of the past.’”

There are several images that will forever be seared into the mind of the Burmese hip hop artist known as 882021; pictures and videos that he will never be able to unsee, like soldiers charging at protesters, or thugs dressed in monks’ robes cracking car windows with crowbars. 882021 references these grim scenes not only in his music, but also in the artwork in his music videos. He is one of many artists using their creative gifts to resist the military coup in Myanmar.By choosing to be so bold in his lyrics, his life is at risk, and so he quite literally made a new name for himself—actually, a number. The six digits he now identifies himself as represent both the dates of the 1988 revolution and the current resistance movement, and the digits that make up the hexadecimal number for the web color of dried blood—a color he has unfortunately become all-too-familiar with in real life since the February coup.882021 learned Mahasi meditation during his days as a monk. But as valuable as he finds the Buddha’s teachings, he prioritizes freedom of expression in a traditional, conservative society where religious mores often guide artistic output. “I feel everything should be able to be criticized,” he says. “And that includes a religion as well. Personally, I'm a Buddhist myself, but I don't believe in taking extreme measures censoring art.” He is firmly in the tradition of political rap and hip hop that speaks truth to power.In his opinion, rap is the perfect medium for expressing resistance at this current moment. As he says, “Hip hop has always had a political history. And in my opinion, it is the best type of music to express these struggles that we're having with oppression.”

From the moment you begin looking into the spread of the Delta variant of the coronavirus pandemic in Myanmar, the numbers are simply staggering. Some projections suggest half of the population might be infected within two weeks, and there is now the risk that the country will become a super-spreader Covid state that fuels outbreaks across the region, with a full one-third of the world’s population live in nations bordering Myanmar.This approaching, apocalyptic nightmare is the subject of today’s episode, which features Dr. Sasa. The former Special Envoy to United Nations, Dr. Sasa currently serves as the Union Minister of International Cooperation and Spokesperson of the National Unity Government of Myanmar.Dr. Sasa is pleading with the United Nations Security Council to issue what he calls a “COVID ceasefire.” He believes that the only hope is for the international community to finally step up. While the Burmese have been left largely to fend for themselves with almost no outside support for half a year, Dr. Sasa notes that two things no person can manufacture on their own are essential to combatting this virus: oxygen and vaccinations. “The international community is the only answer.”Meanwhile, the military is not stopping its assault on their own people even as the pandemic reaches epic proportions. Doctors have been in hiding since February, and soldiers have been singling them out for arrest, torture, and even assassination.Somehow, in spite of all this needless death and destruction, Dr. Sasa still sees some hope in the form of the vast majority of Burmese valiantly still resisting this military coup. He references the famous slogan used to describe the ultimate sacrifice given by Allied soldiers in World War II, “We gave our todays for your tomorrow.” He notes, “The people of Myanmar are sacrificing their life for the future of tomorrow. So that is the reason why we have hope… And our unity is our strength.”

This is the fourth episode in our ongoing series, “Love Letters to Myanmar.” Today’s show welcomes three foreigners who share how Myanmar has influenced and supported their spiritual path, and the depth of gratitude they have for the country and people.The first guest is Venerable Canda, a Buddhist nun from England. When she was 19 years old, she visited India, where she attended a ten-day vipassana meditation course in the tradition of S.N. Goenka. The experience was so profound that she “knew that the path would be my whole life.” Indeed, ten years later she ordained as a nun north of Yangon under The Phyu Taw Ya Sayadaw, renowned for his deep samādhi prowess and strong sila. Reflecting now on everything she received in her spiritual life from Burmese teachers and the wider monastic and lay community, Venerable Canda feels that now is very much the time to give back.The next guest is Bhikkhu Rahula, a Mexican monk whose first vipassana course was in Japan, also in the tradition of S. N. Goenka, and it was similarly a life-changing experience. Traveling on to Myanmar, he practiced in a variety of traditions, often while ordaining temporarily as a monk. Besides his meditative practice, he devoted himself to studying pariyatti under some of the most renowned academic monks, which brought an even further benefit to his practice. Bhante Rahula brings a Buddhist perspective to his understanding of the current crisis, commenting, “The first thing we must do is become responsible of our own greed, aversion and ignorance. That's the first thing we should do because it's still alive in our hearts.”Finally, we hear a talk recorded with Breno Liberato in January 2020. Breno also got his first taste of dhamma through a Goenka course, and was moved to travel to Myanmar to further his spiritual development. He speaks joyously about his plans to visit various monasteries and meditation centers. He felt particularly called to try the mettā course of Chan Myay Myaing, and then learn cittanupassana from Sayadaw U Tejaniya. One hears the deep appreciation of a visitor who has benefited from his association, however brief, with the Burmese people and country.

When Han Htoo Khant Paing was pursuing degrees at the University of Economics in Yangon and Oxford University in England, he never imagined that one day he would be fleeing for his life to the jungles of Karen State.While many of his friends were enjoying the benefits of the liberalization and reforms of the 2010s, Han was growing increasingly worried that the transition was not going far enough. When the coup happened, Han responded immediately by co-founding the Burma Spring Front for Federal Democracy, an activist group dedicated to reestablishing democracy in Myanmar. He played an important role in organizing some of the country’s largest protests in February and March.As expected, Han and his fellow activists soon became targeted by the military. Han was one of the lucky ones who managed to escape, relocating to a safe house on the very day that soldiers searched his street. He eventually fled to Karen state, where he lived for two months under the protection of the Karen National Union (KNU). Eventually however, the Tatmadaw began running air raids over the camp and nearby villages, prompting Han to flee once again and look for safety.In addition to this harrowing story, our discussion covers a wide range of topics, many concerning the events that took place in the 2010s. Han was deeply disappointed not only by the Rohingya crisis, but also by the indifferent and even defensive response to what was unfolding from his Bamar friends. He feels that so many were enjoying their new-found opportunities for greater material rewards, that they ceased to cherish the value of hard-won, basic freedoms, leading to a misuse of freedom of speech and religious intolerance.

Michael Haack’s lifelong advocacy for Myanmar had a fortuitous start. With a growing interest in the divestment movement, he took advantage of an opportunity to take alternative winter break during his university years on the Thai-Myanmar border. While there, local people told him that they wanted foreign companies to stop doing business with the governing junta. Back at school, he aligned himself with a Free Burma coalition, and with a few other students managed to develop a successful campaign to stop multi-national companies from operating in the country.Since then, the Burmese country and people would have a special place in his heart. Michael’s several-decade career supporting various causes and campaigns, and current position as Campaign Manager at The Campaign for a New Myanmar, are the fodder for this episode’s wide-ranging discussion.The conversation starts by examining the role of the garment factory workers in the present resistance movement, and then spoke about railway workers staying home as part of the Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM), and the importance of rail lines running at less than full capacity. Michael also mentions a recent interview he conducted with Dr. Sasa, the present government leader-in-exile, and in profiling him, found his story so incredible that he thought it could be “sold to Hollywood.”Michael names two other factors that inform a more complete understanding of Myanmar’s current crisis. First is the complicating nature of the Rohingya crisis. And second, in contrast to previous protests of 1988 and 2007, people are no longer fighting for something they never had, but rather fighting for something they don’t want to lose.On this latter point, Michael uses it to push back at criticisms by more liberal colleagues in the West that the coup basically proves that “there never was a transition” to a free society in the 2010s. While it may be true that the liberalization did not go as far as some might have hoped, but “to say that there was no transition is to literally just rob huge swaths of Myanmar society…of their lived experience, their agency, and their understanding of what had happened over the last 10 years.”