A turning point in Myanmar's game of master and servant

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 02, 2015
A turning point in Myanmar's game of master and servant

The military's dominance of public affairs could be about to end

Ever since the 1962 coup, Burmese generals have controlled the country by transferring themselves and their officers into government – despite lacking knowledge or experience of civilian administration. After two generations of military dictators in Myanmar, the latest crop of top brass have maintained the tradition, placing their favourites at the head of government agencies. These days the military appointees do have at least some background knowledge of their political field. Yet civilians are now daring to challenge the practice, rejecting the idea that military officers are their natural superiors.
The traditional mentality among the generals is that they are the masters whose orders the people must obey. 
Notable expressions of this arrogance include the chilling warning given by dictator Ne Win in a televised national address on the eve of the popular uprising in 1988: “When the soldiers shoot, they don’t shoot in the air. They shoot at the target”. His successor General Than Shwe, in a speech to military families ahead of the 1990 elections, asked, “Do you want to stay as masters or do you want to become slaves – think deeply.” The message was obvious: choosing the opposition National League for Democracy meant choosing to follow the orders of a civilian government, while by voting for the military-backed party they could remain masters. 
Meanwhile military men typically earn preferential treatment when they transfer to civilian life. An army officer with just a medical degree might walk straight into the post of director at a public hospital, while a civilian doctor would need 20 years of work experience to get the same job. Likewise, administrators at the township, state and division levels are often former army officers. Such preferential treatment began under Ne Win’s rule and is still practised today under commander-in-chief Senior General Min Aung Hlaing. The upper echelons of the police force come not from the police academy, but from the army, while the ranks of prison administrators and wardens are also dominated by former army men. 
The reality is that Myanmar is still under quasi-military rule.
But a dramatic change is in the pipeline as the country gears up for its first free and open election, on November 8. For the first time, people are daring to speak out about the military’s inhumane treatment of the populace and its position of privilege. 
Civilian doctors recently donned black ribbons as a symbolic gesture against military infiltration after the Defence Ministry appointed army doctors to top jobs in the Health Ministry. 
Nurses and medical colleges joined the campaign, coining the slogan “Say no to militarisation of the Health Ministry”. Fearing opposition would spread further, the government hastily cancelled the appointments. A landmark victory against the militarisation of civilian life had been won. 
After the defeat, the beleaguered Defence Ministry sought to transfer military men to the judiciary, only to be met with a protest from lawyers. Their “yellow ribbon” campaign began in the capital Nay Pyi Taw last month and has quickly spread to other towns and cities.
Then, on September 11, engineers in Mandalay joined what has become a snowballing campaign by donning blue ribbons to demand an end to militarisation in the Electricity Ministry. 
The wave of transfers is a sign of desperation from a military whose privilege and grip on political power are beginning to weaken. Pressure on the men in uniform is being cranked up by popular expressions of anger and dissent as decades-old restrictions on free speech are eased. 
Most ordinary civilians consider the military to be a huge burden on society, while the army-backed ruling Union Solidarity and Development Party is not popular. During the last election, in 1990, people defied repression to vote overwhelmingly for the opposition National League for Democracy, which won a landslide victory with 82 per cent of parliamentary seats. That result was subsequently scrapped by the junta. 
The upcoming election is a totally different ball game. Political parties have more freedom than in 1990. International observers will monitor the vote, while the growth in civil society organisations is helping to guard the rights of citizens. 
The behaviour of the military and government is now being scrutinised and questioned by every social class. 
Earlier this year, student protesters demanding better education were beaten by police before being arrested for demonstrating without a permit. The resulting court hearings have been repeatedly postponed after police failed to show up to testify. 
The national human rights commission declared that not only were the students being persecuted but that the police must face justice for their unlawful violence. The government, however, has maintained a conspicuous silence about the case.
Adding to popular discontent with authorities was the sentencing of two union leaders to more than two years in jail for “damaging the government’s dignity” by leading labour protests. Meanwhile the military still occupies vast swathes of land, and recent flood victims are not receiving adequate relief from the government. 
The rising level of frustration over the military’s role in public affairs is a core reason that many are forecasting a landslide win for the opposition NLD in November’s election.
But that forecast is causing panic among the military and the ruling USDP. The election commission, which is led by a former army general, has issued a ban on criticising the military during campaigning for the poll. Candidates must now submit their election speeches to be screened before they air on television. This represents a desperate move at a desperate time for the military and ruling party. 
 And time is running out. The coming election should reveal to the world the identity of the real master in Myanmar.