Myanmar election: How the West misread Aung San Suu Kyi
Myanmar election: How the West misread Aung San Suu Kyi
WRITTEN BY MICHAL LUBINA
6 November 2020
As Myanmar heads towards a crucial general election on 8 November 2020, Aung San Suu Kyi faces a political challenge. Although domestic political dynamics will ultimately determine whether she is able to secure a decisive victory and retain her position, condemnation from Western states is an important intervening factor.
Mainstream conventional media narratives on Aung San Suu Kyi and Myanmar have been predictable. Before the 2010s Suu Kyi was considered a beacon of hope, an icon of democracy peacefully fighting the Tatmadaw (Myanmar’s armed forces) and its junta. However, after siding with the Tatmadaw on the violent extirpation of the Rohingya people, Suu Kyi fell from grace in Western democracies; a Nobel Peace Prize winner who had betrayed her fundamental values. However, this narrative, which has previously relentlessly promoted Suu Kyi as a symbol of ethics in politics for 25 years and now condemns her as a democratic traitor, is not only shallow and convenient but also incorrect.
The shallow mainstream narrative about Suu Kyi
Until the mid-2010s, the West took a one-dimensional view of Suu Kyi and overlooked examples of her authoritarianism, labelling those who disagreed with her ‘renegades and traitors’. A few pieces have examined the pre-2010s ‘Suu Kyi hype’ more critically, focusing on how this narrative allowed the Tatmadaw generals ‘an easy route back to legitimacy’ and her attempts to use the media to further her own interests. However, much Western discourse about Suu Kyi has been strikingly emotional; Andrew Selth characterises these observers as ‘spurned lovers’.
As Ben Rhodes has demonstrated, Suu Kyi has always been multidimensional: ‘the idealist, the activist, the politician, the cold pragmatist’. The deeper problem is one of mutual misunderstanding. As I explain in my book, although Suu Kyi and the West have seemingly spoken the same language for more than 25 years, they understand the same words differently. In perceiving her as a Westernised Burmese politician, the West has misread her. In fact, Suu Kyi is a product of many worlds; a person in whom the East and West meet, but not exactly in the way her pre-2010s admirers had thought.
Despite her socialisation in the UK and her familiarity with European cultural patterns, Suu Kyi is not the unifier of East and West. Her references to Western values are only surface level — in phraseology, declarations, and slogans. In practice, however, the uncomfortable truth is that human rights, democracy, and rule of law matter differently to the Burmese than to the Westerners. Suu Kyi understands the way the Western world operates and wants to implement some — not all — of its civilisational achievements in Myanmar. But she is not Western; she sees these seemingly universal Western values only as instruments to improve her country, not as ends in themselves.
Plus, Myanmar’s political circumstances are far more complex than the dominant external narrative allows. Since entering politics in 1988, Suu Kyi has faced a rough political terrain and has had to wrestle with a far stronger and uncompromising rival — a military regime unwilling to relinquish power. In this personally sacrificial struggle, non-violence as a calculated, political choice allowed her a creative tactic to circumvent the limitations imposed upon her by the military regime. If Suu Kyi had started violent protests, her movement would have been crushed swiftly and the regime would have been able to easily legitimise such an action. Instead, by taking the field of political confrontation into the moral sphere in full accordance with Burma’s intellectual tradition, she made a virtue out of necessity.
By selling herself as the much more moral candidate she levelled the structural advantage of the Tatmadaw and increased her options. In short, non-violence gave her moral capital and with it came international recognition, giving her leverage in Myanmar’s future political terrain. Given the asymmetry of power, this was a substantial achievement. Although too weak to win, Suu Kyi was nonetheless too strong to fail. She believed that time was on her side and survived two long decades in opposition to Myanmar’s military. Time, however, was, ultimately, on the generals’ side.
Four simultaneous events occurred in the early 2010s: the Tatmadaw's planned exit strategy (‘civilianisation’); liberalisation within the regime proper; bottom-to-top social change in Myanmar; and the regime’s rapprochement with the West. These left Suu Kyi with an uneasy choice. Either she could retain her ‘moral icon’ position, respected but politically powerless thus becoming a ‘Burmese Dalai Lama’, or she could play the game on the generals’ terms with limited political space.
Suu Kyi chose the latter in a Faustian bargain. It meant accepting a constitution, which gives the Tatmadaw substantial control over the political system, forcing any civilian government to cohabitate with the armed forces. Coupled with the enormous informal power of the armed forces and its crony capitalists, it produced a reality wherein the Tatmadaw remains the ultimate political arbitrator in Myanmar.
Suu Kyi tried to make the best of a bad situation: she agreed to function within the system determined by the regime, changed her tactics from confrontation to cooperation and tried to co-exist with Myanmar’s generals. However, in making this compromise, she committed herself to the 2015 elections without any certainty that the generals would not nullify the results as they did in 1990.
An uneasy but manageable relationship
The National League for Democracy (NLD) won the November 2015 elections by a landslide, securing 79.4 per cent of contested seats in both houses of parliament. The Tatmadaw-backed Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP) scored just 8 per cent of the vote. Suu Kyi’s success lay in turning the election into a plebiscite on the military's rule under her slogan: ‘Time for Change’. Then, in a series of behind-the-scenes negotiations with Myanmar’s generals, she secured their acceptance of the electoral results and a transition of power in return for the Tatmadaw's immunity and continued privileges. Thus, since 2016 Suu Kyi has been ruling Myanmar alongside men from the same army that placed her under house arrest.
It is an uneasy, but manageable relationship. Despite little love towards each other, the Tatmadaw and Suu Kyi ‘found a way to work together’. The NLD’s unspoken policy of ‘letting sleeping dogs lie’ greatly helped the transition: Suu Kyi’s party did not try to dismantle or revise the military crafted system. In return, the army refrained from attempting to topple the NLD. Since the generals ‘do not want to run Myanmar — at least not directly’, Tatmadaw officers are content with leaving governance to civilian politicians, providing reforms remain limited. The Tatmadaw can afford to wait for Suu Kyi to lose popular appeal and/or retire (she turned 75 this year) before seeking a return to full power.
Yet, there are some similarities between the NLD and the Tatmadaw. Both organisations are personalistic, hierarchical, and reactionary by nature. They emphasise the importance of unity, discipline, and responsibility, and use moralistic rhetoric to cover their political actions and criticise political opponents. Khin Zaw Win calls this ‘twin authoritarianism’. There is also a mutual understanding between the army and the NLD – they do not cross each other’s political red lines.
Despite all this, the Tatmadaw and Suu Kyi are political competitors. The generals would prefer their proxy, the USDP, to rule and are eager for Suu Kyi to leave the scene. She, for her part, resents them for not allowing her to become the president (nominally the most important post in Myanmar). Suu Kyi circumvented their limitations by installing loyalist puppets as presidents and by establishing a chancellor-style position of State Counsellor for herself. As former British Ambassador to Vietnam and Thailand Derek Tonkin told me, the position is also “a symbol of the limits of her power, for counsellors are but advisers, and she aspires to be more than this”.
However, the structure of Myanmar’s political system has deliberately been designed by the generals to disadvantage any civilian administration. The 2008 drafted constitution allocates 25 per cent of the seats in the parliament to the Tatmadaw, granting the military a blocking minority: any amendment of the constitution requires the consent of more than 75 per cent of MPs. The constitution also guarantees three ministries (home, defence, and border affairs), one vice president seat, administrative autonomy for the army, and a majority in the powerful National Defence Security Council. Thus, it is in the Tatmadaw’s interest to maintain the status quo and ensure that constitutional changes do not threaten their position. They vetoed both of Suu Kyi’s constitutional amendments in 2015 and 2020 for example.
To balance the military, Suu Kyi needs a majority in the Parliament. Her first victory allowed her to establish the position of State Counsellor and gain control of every aspect of governance except spheres exclusively under the Tatmadaw’s command (e.g. defence). Now she needs another landslide to retain this progress. Indeed, since the generals’ privileged position is enshrined in the constitution and cannot be changed without Tatmadaw’s consent, Suu Kyi must confirm her mandate every five years. The logic of this system makes every election in Myanmar a critical one for Suu Kyi, which is made more difficult now that she has a record in government to defend.
Image Credit: Adam Jones/Flickr
The NLD’s record in Government
Under Suu Kyi’s rule, Myanmar has witnessed limited policy success, tinged with political turbulence. Her administration has successfully retained the support of a plurality of Burmese voters despite suffering more setbacks than gains. On the other hand, Suu Kyi has disappointed her erstwhile supporters in the West.
First, there have been serious extenuating circumstances. Domestically, Suu Kyi inherited a deeply dysfunctional state, ruined due sixty years of the Tatmadaw’s (mis)rule. Decades of isolation, both self-inflicted and external have also done its share. And then COVID-19 hit. Critics have pointed out that growth had already started slowing down even before the pandemic, FDI confidence has fallen, and the cost of doing business has not improved under Suu Kyi’s administration. Tourism levels were also stagnating well before COVID-19, and her government has failed to undertake structural reforms.
Despite the Herculean task the NLD inherited, there is much the new government could have improved. Poor business and regulatory environments, lack of economic direction, bureaucratic inertia, economic nationalism and protectionism, and lack of judicial independence are just some of the many structural problems that hamper Myanmar’s development. However, Suu Kyi has not taken any brave decisions. Instead, her micromanaging style produces administrative delays as all decisions, big or small, must go via her. Even if much of her strategic inaction was due to her ‘let sleeping dogs lie’ policy she could have at least tried to do more. Instead, she has squandered much of the energy and hope that was so visible at the beginning of her rule in 2015. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have a developmental vision, which is badly needed for Myanmar in the coming turbulent years.
Worse, Suu Kyi has made some avoidable political mistakes by making promises she could not have kept. Deciding to secure national reconciliation was evidence of monumental hubris. The failure of Suu Kyi's peace process has resulted in the unsuccessful 21st Century Panglong Conferences. She should have avoided promising impossible things like constitutional amendments, ending corruption, or catching up and overtaking Singapore. Most importantly, she failed to deliver on her promise of change: her governance has been merely an adjustment of the post-military system, not a breakthrough.
On the other hand, Suu Kyi has proven quite successful in keeping her popularity with the Buddhist majority Bamar ethnic group through a skilful combination of maternal closeness and official aloofness. Suu Kyi is rarely seen or heard, and she does not lower herself to mundane issues. Instead, she preaches ethics, gives advice, and reminds citizens of their duties. During the COVID-19 pandemic, her videos teaching the Burmese how to wash hands and keep social distance have been popular on Facebook, strengthening her popularity. Suu Kyi knows that culturally, the Burmese expect their leaders to be moral and set a good example, and she skilfully deploys the ‘mother of the nation’ role based on care and provision of goods. Qualities very much needed during a pandemic.
Yet, it would be wrong to ascribe Suu Kyi’s popularity to expert PR alone. Two other reasons are more decisive. First, although some Burmese may be disappointed with Suu Kyi, the people have not forgotten the dreaded rule of the Tatmadaw. The last thing the nation wants is to see the generals coming back to power, either directly or in a civilian cover-up. Second, even though Suu Kyi hasn’t implemented any breakthrough reforms, she has continued the process of Myanmar’s re-opening to the world initiated during the tenure of Thein Sein (a reformist general who ruled from 2011-2015).
The army is being slowly removed from public life and civil administration, an internet revolution is underway, NGOs and CSOs have strengthened, and the quality of life has improved. There is visible development, too: better connectivity and infrastructure, increased budget spending on education and healthcare, and electricity access to over 70 per cent of the population. Fear of the Tatmadaw, so overwhelming a decade ago, has significantly waned; although the red lines of censorship and intolerance remain, the people no longer ‘live in silence’. A commonly shared belief that although there are problems, things are going the right way is helping unite the Burmese people and indicates that despite losing some of her shine, Suu Kyi still personifies societal hopes and dreams.
Consolidation without unity in diversity
The main question about Myanmar’s elections is not ‘who’, but ‘how’. Short of an unforeseen disaster, the NLD will win the elections. But Suu Kyi faces the same predicament as in 2015: she needs to win 67 per cent of the contested seats (or 334 seats) in both houses of the Hluttaw (parliament). Only this will allow her party to provide stable governance by outvoting military deputies and opposition MPs in all matters except those which are constitutional.
A combination of acceptable governance, social emotions and weak opposition should guarantee the NLD's victory. The military proxy USDP is disliked even among its members; it is doubtful they’ll be able to repeat their 8 per cent result from 2015. The other parties, the People’s Pioneer Party and the Union Betterment Party, are simply too small to succeed in Myanmar’s first-past-the-post electoral system. In the last election, the NLD secured only 57 per cent of the popular vote but acquired 79 per cent of the contested seats.
Suu Kyi’s problem is with the country’s ethnic minorities that constitute 32-34 per cent of society. The ethnic issue is Myanmar’s Gordian knot. The Burmese majority (Bamars) are too strong to share power, influence, and capital, but not strong enough to enforce its vision upon the entire country. The failure to reach a political settlement in the country’s tragic and devastating civil war, one of the longest-running in the world, is but one manifestation of this imbalance of power. Although minorities in the Burmese heartland, including the Irrawaddy Delta, have been more or less subjugated, a significant portion of the borderlands (especially in Kachin, Shan and Rakhine states) is beyond the central government’s control.
Some well-armed minorities like the Was and Kachins have established de facto autonomous states. Many decades of brutal warfare have created a culture of distrust and a conflict economy favouring the Tatmadaw and ethnic armed organisations (EAOs) that may hate one another, but benefit economically from the continuous strife. Finally, China’s shadow looms over much of Upper Myanmar. Aside from its economic clout, Beijing uses its informal clients, like the United Wa State Army and the Kachin Independence Army to keep Naypyidaw under pressure.
Unsurprisingly, no one in Myanmar’s contemporary history, including Suu Kyi’s father, Aung San, has been able to solve the ethnic conundrum. To Suu Kyi’s credit, she made an honest attempt by launching her 21st Century Panglong Conference. However, it ended in a humiliating disappointment as she was unable to solve the core contradiction between Tatmadaw’s demand of EAOs to disarm and minorities’ call for federalism.
From the perspective of the ethnic minorities, what matters is that Suu Kyi has moved closer to the Tatmadaw’s position at the expense of ethnic interests over time. They supported her en masse in 2015 so that she would defend them against the Tatmadaw, not side with it. She is likely to receive much less support from ethnic minorities this time around. The ethnic parties may be too small to win elections, but they are big enough to swing some valuable seats. Without them, Suu Kyi may not score 67 per cent of contested seats. In this context, the recent controversial decision of the Central Electoral Commission (whose members are nominated by the president) to cancel voting in over half of Rakhine constituencies is in-line with the NLD’s political interest: these are over one million votes that won’t be cast against the party.
Image Credit: U.S. Department of State/Flickr
Domestic benefits of Suu Kyi’s Western ‘fall from grace’
Since following the Tatmadaw’s line on the Rohingya crisis, Suu Kyi has been mercilessly criticised by the West. Her status has been downgraded from ‘beacon of hope’ to the ‘fallen icon’. This does not bother her much. When I asked her about criticism from Western journalists in 2015, well before the peak of condemnation, she quipped, “What do these journalists think I was doing all along?”.
Suu Kyi maintains that her struggle has always involved pursuing the political path to transform Myanmar. Consequently, she views politics as a self-imposed burden and responsibility, a duty to finish her father’s quest to modernise Burma. She feels it is imperative to fix what the military junta has broken, and for that, she needs all the power available.
The West has always been secondary in this picture. She welcomed the West when it helped her cause. Today, if the West can no longer accept her, it is their problem, not her’s. As Derek Tonkin told me, Suu Kyi knows that the West’s infatuation with her has given way to disillusion. However, as Tonkin notes, she does not wish to regain favour in the West; Suu Kyi is as much “at home in Singapore and Beijing today as she used to be in Oxford and London in the past. She has simply swapped her intellectual base”.
More importantly, Western criticism paradoxically helps her politically as it finds little understanding in Myanmar. Instead, it angers and insults the Burmese who take the criticism as an attack on their country. Hence, they respond by uniting behind her (“we stand with Daw Suu”). That’s simply wonderful news for Suu Kyi! The more fiercely the West condemns Suu Kyi, the better her domestic political prospects. In 2017, Western media criticism sheltered her from uncomfortable questions about her passive role in the Rohingya crisis. Indeed, she was overshadowed by the Tatmadaw, which did what it wanted without paying any attention to her and revealed her political weakness in times of crisis. In 2019, the Gambia’s case against Myanmar at the International Court of Justice has been a political boon. Suu Kyi seized the opportunity by personally going to the Hague and turning it into a matter of national honour. And just as the electoral campaign kicked off, the European Parliament suspended her from the Sakharov community, much to her advantage.
For all these reasons, Suu Kyi’s electoral prospects look good. She will likely win this election and continue her rule. At the same time, she certainly remembers her father’s prophecy: ‘a man who has achieved popularity in Burma remains popular for about three years and no more’. Thanks to the Tatmadaw, Western criticism, and now COVID-19, Suu Kyi was able to multiply this period by ten.
Will there be limits to her ability to remain popular? Will the second wave of COVID-19, currently sweeping Myanmar, seriously affect the elections? Will it be remembered as the ‘COVID election’ just as 2008 referendum was remembered as the ‘Nargis referendum’, and undermine the legitimacy of the NLD just as Cyclone Nargis proved to be the final nail in the coffin for Than Shwe’s Tatmadaw government? As the elections approach and the pandemic worsens, there are more questions than answers.
DISCLAIMER: All views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent that of the 9DASHLINE.com platform.
Author biography
Michał Lubina is Associate Professor of Political Science at the Jagiellonian University in Kraków, Poland. He is the author of 8 books (6 on Myanmar), most recently A Political Biography of Aung San Suu Kyi: A Hybrid Politician (Routledge: Abington-New York). Image Credit: World Economic Forum/Flickr.