A vote offers Burma a democratic dilemma

By Amy Kazmin

April 30 2008 (FT)- After nearly three decades of repressive dictatorship and a year and a half after the army killed thousands in the suppression of massive democracy protests, the Burmese went to the polls in May 1990 to vote in their first national multiparty elections in 30 years.

The electorate and the outside world were sceptical. Aung San Suu Kyi, the daughter of Burma’s slain independence hero and leader of the opposition National League for Democracy, had been under house arrest for 11 months. Other top NLD leaders – and important figures from the 1988 uprising – were also under house arrest or in prison. Nearly all campaigning was banned. Most Burmese people doubted the genuine vote count would ever be known.

Events did not play out quite as expected. When the votes were tallied, the Burmese military conceded that Ms Suu Kyi’s NLD had won more than 80 per cent of the vote, a landslide victory. But, stung by the shock result, the generals refused to hand over power, insisting the military first had to oversee the drafting of a new constitution.

In that failure to honour the will of the people lies the root of the Burmese military junta’s crisis of legitimacy. Since then, Burma has been trapped in a paralysing stand-off pitting Ms Suu Kyi, regarded by many Burmese people and western governments as the rightful leader, against Senior General Than Shwe, the junta’s top man, who rejects any political role for her. International calls for a political dialogue between the two – and United Nations efforts to broker such talks – have gone unheeded.

Burma’s 52m people, meanwhile, have been left to fend for themselves in an economy hobbled by all-pervasive military control, and western trade and investment sanctions. Grinding poverty and lack of jobs have driven abroad millions of Burmese, including at least 1.5m to Thailand, who face exploitation from employers and official persecution.

Burmese public frustration at their hardships boiled over in September, when tens of thousands took to the streets led by Buddhist monks to express their desire for change. The army quashed the protests with force, killing at least 31 and arresting thousands – hundreds of whom remain imprisoned.

Now – 18 years after that fateful election – Burma’s population is
again being called to the ballot box. This time, the junta is asking for public endorsement of a new military-backed constitution that it says will lay the foundation for a “discipline-flourishing democracy”, paving the way for new elections in 2010. For many despairing Burmese, people fed up with the poor governance and harsh repression of the past two decades, the referendum poses something of a dilemma.

Many have a strong impulse to vote against the charter, partially because they object to its contents, but more as an act of defiance against their despised rulers. Yet many of these same voters feel that the charter – despite its illiberal nature – offers the only possibility, however faint, of a change from the desperately bleak status quo.

Few voters have illusions about the nature of what is on offer. Inspired by Indonesia’s Suharto-era constitution, the charter explicitly proclaims the army’s leading role in public affairs and reserves 25 per cent of seats in a new national parliament for military appointees. The eligibility criteria for running for office have been designed to exclude Ms Suu Kyi and political exiles from contesting future elections.

Not surprisingly, the NLD, other prominent dissidents and exile groups are urging a public rejection of the constitution, which they say is merely an attempt to legitimise the military’s entrenched rule and to satisfy the junta’s Asian friends by making a show of political reform. These opposition activists argue that the loss of face, both internally and internationally, from a massive No vote could force the generals into the political dialogue with Ms Suu Kyi they have so long resisted.

Yet other Burmese, seeing little realistic likelihood of change coming from other directions, argue that by planting the seeds of new institutions – such as a parliament – and a more complex decision-making structure, the new constitution may bring something, if only an element of unpredictability that could bring new opportunities for opposition groups.

Internal debate on these crucial matters is stifled. State-controlled media relentlessly tout the charter, and voters’ “patriotic duty” to support it, while excluding dissenting voices; Ms Suu Kyi and other prominent dissidents remain locked up and anti-charter campaigning is restricted. Yet the charter is discussed intensely on overseas Burmese-language radio stations, such as the BBC, which are followed avidly in Burma.

It is unlikely that the world will ever really know what Burma’s voters decide, given Gen Than Shwe’s determination to see the charter pushed through. In its turbulent modern history, Burma has never had an orderly handover of power that did not result in the ousted leaders’ imprisonment, impoverishment, exile or worse. Yet Gen Than Shwe apparently sees the charter as a way to ensure that he can step down while protecting his and his family’s financial interests and freedom.

A frustrated Burmese businessman – no fan of the regime – said he wanted to vote No, but to see the constitution adopted. Many seem to share that sentiment and they may, indeed, get their wish.