A Fight for a Free Burma

As I entered the campus of the Rangoon Institute of Technology (RIT), I saw dozens of sandals stained with blood and encountered tearful eyes and angry faces.

The night before, a 23-year-old student, Phone Maw, was gunned down by riot police during a protest.

It was March 13. In the weeks and months that followed, the streets of Rangoon would be filled with student demonstrators and riot police and soldiers. A fight for regime change had begun.

On March 12, a brawl that broke out in a teashop turned into an anti-government demonstration that finally led to nationwide demonstrations.

It was a quarrel between students and locals who argued over which song to play at the Sandar Win teashop, a popular hangout near RIT.

Ironically, Sandar Win was also the name of the favorite daughter of Gen Ne Win, who was then chairman of the ruling Burmese Socialist Program Party. Sandar Win was allegedly involved in the crushing of student-led demonstrations in August and September of that year. She is, like many prominent Burmese figures, now under house arrest. 

RIT students wanted to play a song by the recently deceased Shan singer, Sai Htee Saing but a young local preferred a song by Kaizar. A brawl broke out and a student was reportedly injured. But it quickly turned into a street demonstration. The regime sent in riot police, killing students.

In the following days and weeks, we were out on the streets. Rangoon had become a killing field.

From the day I visited the RIT campus, my life was changed. I also saw the lives of many of my contemporaries dramatically altered.

We were constantly on the road after that—running, hiding and operating clandestine missions. We were on the road to freedom in Burma.

To achieve change, many student activists from those heady days in 1988, including those forced to live in exile, have continued their struggle.

But they also realize that it is not an easy fight.

Some of our colleagues remain in prison, and those who enjoyed brief freedom were brought back to detention centers. But I hardly see anyone saying it’s time to give up.
Twenty years is not too long for a political struggle to continue, but it can seem a very long time when you see that change is not coming. It is painful to see Burma miss many great opportunities to reconcile its divided forces and rebuild a country that is in a shambles.

I noticed the dynamic of movement has changed.

In 1988, there was no one behind the activist students pulling the strings or telling us how we should conduct the movement. Many of us volunteered wholeheartedly in the movement and there were no obligations on any of us.

When the current regime seized power, it accused the communists of involvement in the push to topple the Ne Win government in 1988.

The accusation was partially correct: I had some colleagues who were part of “48/28”— the code name of an underground operation by the Communist Party of Burma—during the 1988 uprising. They were leftwing, progressive students and former activists from the 1970s and 60s who played a supportive role in 1988.

I remembered some were boastful, as they told me they had been planning such an uprising since 1985. I knew they didn’t have sat-phones, laptop computers, email accounts or, most importantly, big budgets.

Today, the struggle for democracy, human rights and “regime change” has been brought to wider audience.

Many activists often travel to other countries in the region or beyond, talking about the need for change in Burma. They can no longer count the number of times they have traveled and held talks about the need for change.

They repeatedly explain to neighbors and Westerners, including diplomats, officials and donors, why they want to see change—why it is important that the international community pay more attention to the plight of Burma.

However, it has not been easy. Why is this so?

After twenty years in the movement, they have fatigue and frustration—additional bonuses from the 1988 uprising. 

I keep hearing from colleagues about foreign activists turned “Burma experts” or consultants, telling them what to do and how the “revolution” should be conducted.
I myself sometimes encountered offensive comments, like the words of a young and energetic former Western ambassador who once told me that “exiled forces are no longer relevant.”

Didn’t she know that Burmese activists were forced to live in exile? Was it their choice?
But negative feelings vanish when you meet committed people who have great understanding about your country, who come without an agenda and really listen, instead of lecturing. When you meet them, they give you so much energy.

The energy also came from a veteran journalist in Burma.

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