As Rakhine burns, Muslims in Myanmar ponder their fate

More than 250,000 Rohingya – dubbed the world’s most-persecuted people – have fled Rakhine in Myanmar’s west over the past two weeks.
Condemnation of the government, especially state counsellor and de facto leader Aung San Suu Kyi, has been almost universal.
The country’s minorities – including the Shan, the Karen, the Kachin and Muslims – have long faced a troubled and often bloody relationship with the dominant Burmese (“Bama”) majority, who inhabit the core Irrawaddy Delta.
Still, Muslims have been an integral part of public life in Myanmar for centuries. Various rulers, including King Mindon in the 19th century, encouraged Muslim settlement and mosque-building, seeing the community as an important source of commercial activity and revenue.
However, the British colonialism had a searing impact on Burmese consciousness – engendering deeply rooted xenophobia.
Unlike in Malaysia and Indonesia, where the colonial authorities chose to govern through local sultans, in Burma, the administration was unequivocally British and managed from Calcutta and later Delhi.
Timber, precious stones and oil drew foreign capital and labour deep into the heart of what had been a proud Burmese polity.
Also, Marwari and Chettiar merchants from the Indian subcontinent soon realised the vast potential for rice cultivation, turning Burma in a matter of years into a major rice-exporting region.
To cut costs, the same businessmen imported labour from nearby Bengal – suppressing domestic wages and displacing countless local farmers.
By World War II, almost half of the population of Rangoon, now Yangon, was Indian. This deepened the resentment of native Burmese, who saw the newcomers – many of whom were Muslim – as intruders. This in turn led to anti-immigrant riots in the city. World War II and the violence thereafter prompted many millions of Indians to leave. Still, many remained.

Finding ways to survive
For Myanmar’s millions of Muslims today, the violence in Rakhine is deeply unsettling. Officially, Muslims make up only 3 to 4 per cent of the population, but non-governmental organisations feel the figure is nearer 12 to 13 per cent.
Whatever the truth, the Muslim minority, highly visible and densely packed in downtown Yangon, is also spread across the interior, with mosques in small cities and towns such as Bago, Mawlamyine and Meiktila.
International attention is rightly focused on the Rakhine situation, but it is important to remember that not all Muslims in Myanmar are Rohingya, even though their situation can sometimes be just as precarious. Many complain about formal and informal discrimination, including the use of the term “kalar” (which is seen as derogatory) by non-Muslims against them.
Recently I contacted Myanmar Muslim friends to get a sense of how they viewed things. 
Former truck driver U Tin Win, 71, spoke of his struggle to obtain papers for his grandchildren.
“Even my uncle who works as a Customs officer can’t get an ID card. He lost it and, despite having all the necessary documents, still hasn’t received a new one because he is Muslim.”
Others fear for their own safety. Chit (not his real name), a Myanmar Muslim in his early 30s, works as a taxi driver in Yangon, where there are many mosques and Muslims. Despite that, he often feels insecure. “Everywhere in Myanmar, Buddhists think Muslims are terrorists who are trying to overthrow the government. There is a lot of fake news on social media spreading this propaganda. That’s how violent sentiments spread outside the Rakhine state. Fortunately, I don’t look obviously Muslim, so I can get by without too much hassle.”
In Myanmar, “looking Muslim” means being dark-skinned, having Indian features, and being bearded for men or wearing the hijab for women.
Naing (not her real name), a Muslim resident of Meiktila, has graver concerns. “There was a fight between a Muslim and a Buddhist a few weeks ago. In one village called Chan Aye, soldiers imposed a night curfew and are guarding the place very tightly. Hopefully, the violence from Rakhine will not spread here.”
Naing, who is in her early 20s, is pessimistic about the prospects of her people. “Buddhists aren’t allowed to buy or sell land from Muslims. Ma Ba Tha [a movement of extremist Buddhist monks] will stop it. Some months ago, they almost killed a Muslim man and destroyed his house for buying his land from a Buddhist.”
The discrimination affects even well-to-do Muslims, like Kyaw (not his real name), a veteran businessman with financial interests in Myanmar and overseas.
“I attended a high-level diplomatic course where ministers and ambassadors were also present. They used ‘kalar’ there to refer to Myanmar Muslims. TV shows and movies use the word all the time. The racism is everywhere.
“In smaller towns, there are signs that are displayed outside shops to show which businesses are Buddhist-owned, so they can discriminate against us.
“To make deals, I have to use Buddhist proxies; otherwise, I would never survive.”
What surprised me was that there was relatively little bitterness among my Myanmar Muslim friends against Suu Kyi, who has come under fire internationally. Even though she has broken her long silence over the Rakhine crisis, the fact remains that nothing has been done to stop the violence.
U Tin Win wholeheartedly believes she will champion Myanmar’s 2008 Constitution, which pledges, “We, the National people, firmly resolve that we shall uphold racial equality, living eternally in unity fostering the firm Union Spirit of true patriotism.”
In contrast, Naing says: “She and the National League for Democracy (NLD) don’t have the power to change what is happening. She is doing her best.”
Taxi driver Chit even backs the NLD: “I think their response to the Rakhine violence is very fair. They are trying their hardest, and I believe they can resolve the issue.”
Kyaw argues: “If they speak out, they will lose support. I am sure that, behind the scenes, they are working to help Myanmar Muslims and the Rohingya to live peacefully.”
Myanmar’s Muslims are in a complex, delicate situation. They know all too well that they could be “next” in the crosshairs of the extremists after the Rohingya.
Many see Suu Kyi and the NLD as their only hope. But given the government’s lack of action over the violence in Rakhine, that hope may be misplaced.