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Burma After the CrackdownWaiting for the military to turn on their generals.

By Gwynn Guilford
Posted Monday, Oct. 15, 2007, at 12:21 PM ET

In early October, the streets of Rangoon were cast with a kind of calm that was eerie only in contrast. On downtown sidewalks, where the Burmese army gunned down protesters days earlier, people now hawked melons, fishing reels, and Avril Lavigne T-shirts. The area near Sule Pagoda, familiar from video footage of the shooting death of Japanese photojournalist Kenji Nagai, was now just another pedestrian passage, with gabbing cabbies and open-air noodle shops giving the place a lively air. The atmosphere betrayed little disquietude at the violence that shook downtown mere days before.

At first, anyway. Gradually, hints emerged, such as the conspicuous absence of monks—striking in a city in which maroon robes are a ubiquitous sight. In early October, Rangoon's many monasteries were said to be under military lockdown, with monks detained each night.

Lu Maw. Click image to expand.

"The military raids monasteries at midnight. Many monks [have been taken] away," comedian Lu Maw told me from his Mandalay home. Monks aren't the only ones subject to nighttime arrests, though. A member of the celebrated Moustache Brothers troupe, Lu Maw stood by as his comedy partner Par Par Lay, a Burmese celebrity and bugbear of the regime, was arrested Sept. 25 while cooking for monks in a religious community hall. 

Almost in place of the monks were the soldiers in red bandanas, who manned Rangoon's and Mandalay's roadblocks and roved the streets in flatbed trucks. This particular shade of red was freighted with menace. While soldiers with green or yellow bandanas are authorized to beat and arrest, those wearing red ones may also shoot, as tourism industry worker U Soe Thein*, who witnessed the protests from a downtown office window, explained.

Soldiers at Shwedagon Pagoda. Click image to expand.

Another hint was the desolation of Shwedagon Pagoda, one of Burma's holiest sites and the setting of several demonstrations. A day after it reopened, only about 40 people strolled the marble grounds, almost all of them either army or military police, most armed. Despite the emptiness, one shrine got more action than the rest. A small but steady line of people gathered to worship at the shrine for those born on Tuesday, such as democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi. 

Suu Kyi, whose support for democracy in the face of the oppressive military government known as the State Peace and Development Council won her the 1991 Nobel Peace Prize, continues to be a powerful symbol for everyone I talked to. However, most said they worried that she could effect little change from isolation—she has been under house arrest for 12 of the last 18 years.

"We don't really know who could save us. We thought in 1988 [when democratic elections were announced] that it was a turning point," said U Soe Thein, who is in his mid-30s, referring to pro-democracy demonstrations that took place in August of 1988, shortly after then-leader Gen. Ne Win announced democratic elections. The current military government seized power in August of that year when it imposed martial law (though it's thought that Ne Win probably called the shots behind the scenes until his 2002 death), eventually massacring thousands in crackdowns on peaceful demonstrations. The junta's rule continued after it refused to recognize the results of the 1990 elections, in which the Suu Kyi-led National League for Democracy won more than 80 percent of the parliamentary seats.

"[Now] the outside world can't do anything," said U Soe Thein. "Sanctions limit the movement of the government but [create a] hard life [for Burma's] 50 million people."

He was referring to the U.S. government's 2003 ban on investment in Burma. While sanctions helped bring down the apartheid regime in South Africa in the 1980s, the strategy remains controversial. Though championed by Suu Kyi, many I talked to said they worried that the resulting poverty for most Burmese outweighed the possibility of bankrupting the SPDC. Others pointed out that most of China's multibillion-dollar investments flow into government coffers. "Sanctions have driven us into the arms of China," said former economics professor U Thuang*.

China clearly holds considerable diplomatic sway with Burma's military regime, giving particular significance to China's Oct. 11 signing of a U.N. Security Council resolution censuring the SPDC for September's violent crackdown. The statement stopped short of sanctions, but called for the release of political prisoners and "genuine dialogue" with Suu Kyi.

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Gwynn Guilford is a Beijing-based journalist and editor at China International Business magazine, who worked as a reporter in Rangoon at the Myanmar Times in 2004.
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