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Directly or indirectly, the military has always called the shots in Myanmar. And now that it has removed the decade-old facade of gradual democratisation by detaining civilian leaders and seizing power, Western calls to punish the country with sanctions and international isolation are growing louder. Heeding them would be a mistake.
The retreat of the ‘Myanmar spring’ means all the countries of continental Southeast Asia—Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam and Myanmar—are under authoritarian rule, like their giant northern neighbour, China. More fundamentally, the reversal of democratisation in Myanmar is a reminder that democracy is unlikely to take root where authoritarian leaders and institutions remain deeply entrenched.
Given this, a punitive approach would merely express democratic countries’ disappointment, at the cost of stymying Myanmar’s economic liberalisation, impeding the development of its civil society, and reversing its shift towards closer engagement with democratic powers. And, as in the past, the brunt of sanctions would be borne by ordinary citizens, not the generals.
This is a realistic scenario. US President Joe Biden has warned that the military’s action ‘will necessitate an immediate review of our sanctions laws’, followed by ‘appropriate action’. But Biden would do well to consider how US-led sanctions in the past pushed Myanmar into China’s strategic lap, exacerbating regional security challenges.
Sanctions are a blunt instrument. Thailand’s army chief, with the support of an increasingly unpopular king, has remained ensconced in power in civilian garb since staging a coup in 2014. If the United States can do business with Thailand, where a crackdown on pro-democracy protesters has extended to the use of a feared lèse-majesté law to imprison those who insult the royal family, why hold neighboring Myanmar to a higher standard?
Likewise, the US, India, Japan and others have established close defence ties with communist-ruled Vietnam. Indeed, the US boasts that in recent years it has established a ‘robust security partnership’ with Vietnam. Only by opening lines of communication and cooperation with Myanmar’s generals can democratic powers hope to influence developments in a strategically important country.
In the past decade, as Myanmar’s democratic transition unfolded, the West neglected to build close relations with the force behind it—the military. Instead, the prevailing Anglo-American approach centered on Aung San Suu Kyi, making her bigger than the cause. That neglect persisted even after Suu Kyi fell from grace over the fate of the country’s Rohingya Muslims, many of whom fled to Bangladesh and some to India during a brutal military campaign to flush out jihadist militants waging hit-and-run attacks.
The West’s lopsided approach eventually contributed to this month’s coup. Today, the US has little influence over Myanmar’s military. The coup leader, General Min Aung Hlaing, and his deputy, General Soe Win, were slapped with US sanctions 14 months ago over the expulsion of the Rohingya. But in responding to the mass detention of Muslims in Xinjiang that it labels ‘genocide’, the US has spared top Chinese military and party officials, imposing largely symbolic sanctions against lower-ranking functionaries.
Despite their uneven effectiveness and unpredictable consequences, sanctions have remained a favorite—and grossly overused—instrument of Western diplomacy, especially when dealing with the small kids on the global bloc. Non-Western democracies, in contrast, prefer constructive engagement.
Japan, for example, has a partnership program with Myanmar’s military that includes capacity-building support and training. Likewise, India’s defence ties with Myanmar extend to joint exercises and operations and supply of military hardware; recently, it gave its neighbour its first submarine. Such ties also seek to counter China’s supply of arms and other aid to Indian tribal insurgents through rebel-controlled northern Myanmar.
Sanctions without engagement have never worked. In 2010, while the US was pursuing a sanctions-only approach to Myanmar, President Barack Obama criticised India’s policy of constructive engagement with that country. But within months, Obama embarked on a virtually similar policy, which led to his historic visit to Myanmar in 2012.
Crippling US-led sanctions from the late 1980s paved the way for China to become Myanmar’s dominant trading partner and investor. But in 2011, Myanmar’s bold suspension of a controversial Chinese megaproject, the Myitsone Dam, became a watershed moment for the country’s democratic opening. It set in motion developments that reduced Myanmar’s dependence on China, balanced its foreign policy and spurred domestic reforms.
Today, nothing would serve Chinese interests more than new US-led efforts to isolate Myanmar, which serves China as a strategic gateway to the Indian Ocean and important source of natural resources. In fact, renewed sanctions and isolation would likely turn Myanmar into another Chinese satellite, like Laos, Cambodia and Pakistan. As Japan’s state minister for defence, Yasuhide Nakayama, has warned, that outcome would ‘pose a risk to the security of the region’.
US policymakers must not ignore how often American sanctions against other countries have worked to China’s advantage. They should perhaps be most worried by how sanctions have forced Russia to pivot to China, turning two natural competitors into becoming close strategic partners. And China has been the main trade and investment beneficiary of US sanctions against Iran.
In this light, the US must take a prudent approach to Myanmar. When Biden has expressed a readiness to cooperate with the world’s largest autocracy, China, in areas of mutual interest, he should at least pursue a similar approach with a far weaker Myanmar, where the military is the only functioning institution.
To help influence Myanmar’s trajectory, Biden has little choice but to address what US officials have recognised as a weak spot in American policy—lack of ties with the country’s strongly nationalist military. The US must not turn Myanmar from a partner into a pariah again.
For well over a century, Myanmar’s remote mountains and valleys have played a central role in the regional supply chains for illicit drugs. Initially, opium poppies were grown in Myanmar; later, high-purity heroin was produced to meet global demand.
In more recent years, though, illicit drug production in Myanmar has increasingly moved from plant-based heroin to synthetics like methamphetamine. The UN Office on Drugs and Crime World drug report 2017 revealed that criminal groups operating in Myanmar have become significant players in the global production of synthetic drugs.
It’s easy to blame the growing problem of synthetic drug production in Myanmar on ethnic insurgency groups like the United Wa State Army and Shan State Army. However, while these groups are far from innocent, the problem has much more to do with the globalisation of organised crime and the domestic drug policy of the Chinese government. A brief review of Myanmar’s 100-year connection with drug production can shed light on these relationships.
Following the opium wars between China and Britain in the mid-1800s, the demand for opium in China seemed unquenchable. To be fair, the demand was created and then nurtured by the British forcing opium on China rather than by a deliberate Chinese government policy decision.
Opium poppy quickly became a highly valuable cash crop for farmers in Myanmar’s remote hills and valleys.
In 1901, the Chinese Qing Dynasty embarked on a program to suppress the production of opium. While the policy resulted in a reduction in the production of opium in Chinese territory, it drove greater demand for production in the Golden Triangle of Myanmar, Laos and Thailand.
Then, in 1950, the chairman of the Chinese Communist Party, Mao Zedong, led a nationwide campaign to suppress opium use and production. For a second time, a Chinese government decision would result in a substantial change in regional drug production trends. While this policy decision all but eradicated poppy production in China it again fueled greater production in the Golden Triangle.
By the late 1960s, heroin base was beginning to be produced in Myanmar. By the early 1970s, organised crime groups had established supply chains that stretched from Myanmar to markets in North America and Australia.
By the early 2000s global demand for heroin had peaked, at the same time as production in Afghanistan increased. In contrast, the demand for low-purity methamphetamine, colloquially known as ‘yaba’, was growing across Southeast Asia.
Illicit drug preferences among users in countries like Australia, Canada and the US were also changing. While the demand for plant-based drugs like cocaine and heroin had slowed, there was a growing market for crystal methamphetamine, or ‘ice’.
Meanwhile on the Chinese mainland, economic growth led to a rapid expansion in the number of chemical and pharmaceutical production facilities. This rapid growth—often without adequate controls over illicit drug precursors and industry compliance frameworks—resulted in supply-chain vulnerabilities that were exploited by Chinese organised crime groups.
By the late 2000s, Chinese organised crime groups were supplying much of the global illicit drug markets’ crystal methamphetamine and crystal methamphetamine precursors.
Four years ago, China’s government realised that it had a domestic drug problem. It took swift action and instituted a nationwide crackdown on the production of methamphetamine. For a third time in a little more than a century, the Chinese government’s drug policy would impact on Myanmar.
But this time the production of illicit drugs in Myanmar wouldn’t be controlled by local warlords or criminals. The evidence from organisations like the UNODC appears to indicate that Chinese organised crime groups have relocated their methamphetamine production to Myanmar’s conflict-riddled special zones.
And it’s now a truly transnational organised crime business. Chemists from Taiwan use precursors sourced from Chinese industry to manufacture increasing volumes of yaba and ice in Myanmar to export to global illicit drug markets. Rather than being drug producers, Myanmar’s ethnic armies have become landlords who allow the production and movement of illicit drugs and their precursors.
The key leaders in these global organised crime structures are far removed from the diversion of precursors in China, the production of methamphetamine in Myanmar, the smuggling of illicit drugs across the region, and the money laundering in casinos in Laos.
While the weight and number of seizures across the Mekong subregion continue to grow, the current seizure strategy appears to be unable to reduce the availability of yaba and ice.
Resolving the internal conflict in Myanmar, to reduce the number of ungoverned spaces, is at best a long-term prospect. In the meantime, many an insurgent or militia group in Myanmar is reliant on ‘rent’ from the illicit drug trade to continue its operations.
Stronger methamphetamine precursor controls in China and Myanmar will be critical to any effective response. However, tackling the challenge of methamphetamine production in Myanmar also requires effective regional coordination, that includes the Chinese government, to stem the flow of methamphetamine precursors.
The Mekong Delta’s porous land and water borders makes it difficult to detect and interdict global illicit drug supply chains. Enhancing border management across the Mekong subregion will be critical to disrupting the flow of precursors.
Australia’s strengths in border governance and surveillance could help agencies across the region. There are compelling national security and law enforcement arguments for Australia to do so. As a first step, Australia could focus on encouraging interagency and bilateral information-sharing at border crossings.
In our final episode looking at ASPI’s ‘War in 2025’ conference, we bring you analysis of the fabulous speech delivered by the chief of the Australian Defence Force, Angus Campbell.
We also talk with the ASPI cyber team about their latest groundbreaking research report, Mapping conditions in Rakhine state.
General Campbell’s full speech is available here.
In December 2017, the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) released its latest report on opium production in Myanmar and, at face value, the news was good. Since 2015, the area of cultivated opium poppy in Myanmar’s Shan and Kachin states has decreased by 25% to 41,000 hectares. And, for good measure, heroin seizures in China, Cambodia and Thailand increased dramatically over the same period. The Royal Thai Police reported an impressive 278% (264 kilogram) increase in heroin seizures for 2017.
Despite this ‘good news’, authorities—especially those in Australia—shouldn’t be too quick to declare that the war on drugs in the Mekong Delta is working or that the organised crime threat there has diminished. The UNDOC survey found that, overall, Myanmar’s poppy fields are producing 15% higher yields compared to 2015, so the reduction in the area under cultivation hasn’t had any impact on heroin supply in countries such as Thailand, China and Australia. Compelling evidence suggests that criminal groups in the Golden Triangle, or at least in Laos and Myanmar, still present a very real threat to law and order and stability.
The reduction in poppy cultivation could have something to do with changes in organised crime activity in the Golden Triangle. With user demand for heroin stabilising globally, and Afghan poppy cultivation increasing, many criminal groups in the Golden Triangle are shifting their focus to producing and distributing synthetic drugs. Since 2015, ‘East and South-East Asia have become the leading subregions for methamphetamine seizures worldwide’.
The UNODC’s World drug report 2017 revealed that criminal groups in Laos and Myanmar have become significant players in the global production of synthetic drugs (primarily methamphetamines). The numerous ungoverned spaces in Laos and Myanmar provide criminal groups with safe environments for producing large quantities of both low- and high-purity methamphetamine. The region’s contribution to Australia’s illicit drug problems has been frequently highlighted in the Australian Criminal Intelligence Commission’s illicit drug data reports.
Low-purity amphetamine tablets are sold in many ASEAN countries as ‘yaba’. The yaba market is a low-profit, high-sales-volume opportunity for criminal groups, which produce pills in the tens to hundreds of millions. In 2016, Thai police seized 215.58 million yaba tablets. In contrast, crystal methamphetamine (or ice) is produced for markets in China and Australia. While sales volumes in those markets are relatively low, the profit margins are high.
Australia needs a far more integrated whole-of-government response to the law and order issues in the Mekong Delta. Budget cuts and other fiscal constraints have left the Australian Border Force and Australian Federal Police presence in the region sadly lacking. It’s critical that the newly established Home Affairs portfolio’s first international engagement strategy focus on enhancing police-to-police cooperation in the region. That should start with rebuilding the ABF and AFP presence in Thailand, Laos, Myanmar, Cambodia and Vietnam.
The main facilitators for organised crime activity and drug production in the Mekong Delta remain corruption and foreign bribery. Home Affairs, in partnership with the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, could work on developing a more comprehensive framework to strengthen anti-corruption programs in the region. A specific focus of that effort could be collaboration with the UNODC on implementing the United Nations Convention against Corruption across ASEAN.
Home Affairs could also consider how it might contribute, alongside the Attorney-General’s Department, to enhancing mutual legal assistance (MLA) agreements and processes with Mekong countries. MLA is essential to the disruption of transnational organised crime and indispensable in the fight against corruption and foreign bribery. Yet my experience in Myanmar and Laos has been that MLA processes are still not well understood by investigators.
The porosity of the Mekong Delta’s land and water borders makes it difficult to detect and interdict global illicit drug supply chains. Australia’s strengths in border governance and surveillance could help agencies across the region. Australia could focus on encouraging interagency and bilateral information-sharing at border crossings.
These suggestions have the potential to disrupt the supply of illicit drugs originating from Myanmar and Laos, but they don’t address the underlying development problems in the region. As long as farmers can make more money from opium poppy than from other crops, the problem will continue. And as long as criminal groups can act with impunity in permissive environments, nothing will change. In dealing with these issues, lessons learned from Thailand’s successful opium poppy eradication programs of the 1980s could be a starting point for policymakers. However, when it comes to the large-scale production of synthetic drugs, enhancing the rule of law remains one of the very few viable options.
In August, Myanmar’s military launched ‘clearing operations’ against the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army. According to the government, this was a response to a coordinated attack by the group against 30 police posts and an army base in Maungdaw, Buthidaung and Ratheddaung. That attack claimed the lives of an immigration official, 10 police officers and one soldier.
With every passing day, the evidence of ethnic cleansing and military crimes against the Rohingya is mounting. And yet, beyond perfunctory statements, the international and regional communities have done very little to stop the violence and help those fleeing it.
Earlier this year, a report (PDF) by the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights reported killings, forced disappearances, torture, rapes, arbitrary detention, deportations and forced transfers of Rohingya Muslims as a result of violence and persecution.
The Rohingya, whom Myanmar’s Buddhist majority consider to be Bengali, even though they’ve lived in what’s now Rakhine state for centuries, have been forced to seek refuge in Bangladesh, which doesn’t want them; nor is it likely to properly cater for such a large displaced population.
In addition to the 800,000 Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh, there are also more than 400,000 across Southeast Asia. Clearly, this is a major regional problem that demands a regional solution.
The Australian government has stated that it’s ‘deeply disturbed by what’s going on in Rakhine state’. It has called on the Myanmar government to resolve the crisis and has provided humanitarian aid to Bangladesh to help with the refugees. But there have also been efforts to absolve Aung San Suu Kyi of responsibility on the basis that it’s the military that’s really in control of the country.
In the past, Canberra’s position was that the crisis was Myanmar’s problem and a Southeast Asian matter. The focus was primarily on preventing Rohingya from heading to our shores. When Tony Abbott was the prime minister, he suggested that Australian intervention in the crisis ‘will encourage people to get on boats’.
Undoubtedly, the region has failed to address the plight of the Rohingya, who are described as ‘the world’s most persecuted minority’. The Myanmar government doesn’t consider this community of 1.1 million people, whose members speak a distinct dialect, to be one of the country’s 135 official ethnic groups. For the government, if another 100,000 Rohingya flee that means that it has solved its ‘Rohingya problem’.
Regional policymakers are concerned that the matter will become a casus belli for transnational jihadism unless it’s resolved—the Egyptian Salafi group Harakat Sawa’id Masr has already claimed that its attack on Myanmar’s embassy in Cairo was payback for the treatment of the Rohingya. However, beyond expressing concern, ASEAN has offered no substantive solutions. It has opted to provide not a statement of condemnation, but rather a statement of concern and ‘deepest condolences to all the victims and affected communities of the conflict’ (my italics).
Australia has decided to continue its $300,000 Defence Cooperation Program with Myanmar. The government says that the program is designed to ‘promote professionalism and adherence to international laws’ by the Myanmar military.
DFAT has maintained that such interactions, as well as the $66 million that it has allocated for development, encourage Myanmar to adhere to the laws of armed conflict and help to address structural problems caused by decades of international sanctions. In other words, our current position is that challenging the Myanmar government would undermine both our engagement with it and Myanmar’s growth and prosperity.
Australia has now secured a seat on the UN Human Rights Council, so we have an opportunity to play a key role in helping to resolve the conflict.
We could show leadership by inviting representatives of Aung San Suu Kyi, the Myanmar military, regional stakeholders (primarily from Malaysia and Indonesia), the Bangladesh government and the Rohingya community to a series of Track 1.5 meetings. The participation of the Rohingya should not depend on the Myanmar government. The meeting should also involve academics, who can provide context and tools for mediation and conflict resolution.
The meetings should be low-publicity ‘retreats’ aimed at capacity-building, dialogue and problem-solving. This would create some privacy for the discussions and underscore the fact that dialogue doesn’t equate with the legitimisation of actions, ideas or behaviour; rather, it’s about ensuring an open channel and empowering moderates.
The first retreat should focus on consultation and aim to generate new insights into the causes of the conflict and its possible resolution. One key question for the Myanmar government is why it has refused to give the Rohingya some sort of official status, if not citizenship.
We must also continue to engage in Track 1 and Track 2 diplomacy to fill gaps that Track 1.5 talks can’t cover, such as humanitarian aid and development assistance to Myanmar—a country with the second lowest GDP in Southeast Asia but with enormous economic potential.
One lesson from the Syrian conflict is that it doesn’t take much to turn government oppression into a long, bloody, destructive war. We must ensure that we don’t have a Syrian-type conflict in our region, acting as a rallying point for Salafi-jihadists and turning the Rohingya into a pool of Islamist recruits. That’s what happened in Afghan refugee camps in Pakistan. Let’s act now before it’s too late.
Myanmar’s military has lately been engaged in a brutal campaign against the Rohingya, a long-marginalised Muslim ethnic minority group, driving hundreds of thousands to flee to Bangladesh, India, and elsewhere. The international community has rightly condemned the crackdown. But, in doing so, it has failed to recognise that Rohingya militants have been waging jihad in the country—a reality that makes it extremely difficult to break the cycle of terror and violence.
Rakhine State, where most of Myanmar’s Rohingya reside, is attracting jihadists from far and wide. Local militants are suspected of having ties with the Islamic State (ISIS), al-Qaeda, and other terrorist organisations. Moreover, they increasingly receive aid from militant-linked organisations in Saudi Arabia and Pakistan. The main insurgent group—the well-oiled Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army, also known as Harakah al-Yaqin—is led by a Saudi-based committee of Rohingya émigrés.
The external forces fomenting insurgent attacks in Rakhine bear considerable responsibility for the Rohingyas’ current plight. In fact, it is the links between Rohingya militants and such external forces, especially terrorist organisations like ISIS, that have driven the government of India, where some 40,000 Rohingya have settled illegally, to declare that their entry poses a serious security threat. Even Bangladesh acknowledges Rohingya militants’ external jihadi connections.
But the truth is that Myanmar’s jihadi scourge is decades old, a legacy of British colonialism. After all, it was the British who, more than a century ago, moved large numbers of Rohingya from East Bengal to work on rubber and tea plantations in then-Burma, which was administered as a province of India until 1937.
In the years before India gained independence from Britain in 1947, Rohingya militants joined the campaign to establish Pakistan as the first Islamic republic of the postcolonial era. When the British, who elevated the strategy of ‘divide and rule’ into an art, decided to establish two separate wings of Pakistan on either side of a partitioned India, the Rohingya began attempting to drive Buddhists out of the Muslim-dominated Mayu peninsula in northern Rakhine. They wanted the Mayu peninsula to secede and be annexed by East Pakistan (which became Bangladesh in 1971).
Failure to achieve that goal led many Rohingya to take up arms in a self-declared jihad. Local mujahedeen began to organise attacks on government troops and seize control of territory in northern Rakhine, establishing a state within a state. Just months after Myanmar gained independence in 1948, martial law was declared in the region; government forces regained territorial control in the early 1950s.
But Rohingya Islamist militancy continued to thrive, with mujahedeen attacks occurring intermittently. In 2012, bloody clashes broke out between the Rohingya and the ethnic Rakhines, who feared becoming a minority in their home state. The sectarian violence, in which rival gangs burned down villages and some 140,000 people (mostly Rohingya) were displaced, helped to transform the Rohingya militancy back into a full-blown insurgency, with rebels launching hit-and-run attacks on security forces.
Similar attacks have lately been carried out against security forces and, in some cases, non-Rohingya civilians, with the violence having escalated over the last 12 months. Indeed, it was a wave of coordinated predawn insurgent attacks on 30 police stations and an army base on 25 August that triggered the violent military offensive that is driving the Rohingya out of Rakhine.
Breaking the cycle of terror and violence that has plagued Myanmar for decades will require the country to address the deep-seated sectarian tensions that are driving Rohingya towards jihadism. Myanmar is one of the world’s most ethnically diverse countries. Its geographic position makes it a natural bridge between South and Southeast Asia, and between China and India.
But, internally, Myanmar has failed to build bridges among its various ethnic groups and cultures. Since independence, governments dominated by Myanmar’s Burman majority have allowed postcolonial nativism to breed conflict or civil war with many of the country’s minority groups, which have complained of a system of geographic apartheid.
The Rohingya face the most extreme marginalisation. Viewed as outsiders even by other minorities, the Rohingya are not officially recognized as one of Myanmar’s 135 ethnic groups. In 1982, the government, concerned about illegal immigration from Bangladesh, enacted a law that stripped the Rohingya of their citizenship, leaving them stateless.
Successive governments have defended this approach, arguing that past secessionist movements indicate that the Rohingya never identified as part of the country. And, in fact, the common classification of Rohingya as stateless ‘Bengalis’ mirrors the status of Rohingya exiles in the country of their dreams, Pakistan, where tens of thousands took refuge during the Pakistani military genocide that led to Bangladesh’s independence.
Still, the fact is that Myanmar’s failure to construct an inclusive national identity has allowed old ethnic rivalries to continue to fuel terrorism, stifling the resource-rich country’s potential. What Myanmar needs now is an equitable, federalist system that accommodates its many ethnic minorities, who comprise roughly a third of the population, but cover half of the total land area.
To this end, it is critical that Myanmar’s military immediately halt human-rights abuses in Rakhine. It will be impossible to ease tensions if soldiers are using disproportionate force, much less targeting civilians; indeed, such an approach is more likely to fuel than quell violent jihadism. But as the international community pressures Myanmar’s de facto leader Aung San Suu Kyi to take stronger action to protect the Rohingya, it is also vital to address the long history of Islamist extremism that has contributed to the ethnic group’s current plight.
Nuclear nonproliferation news is usually bad news. But sometimes there’s good news, and even clear wins. If you’re looking for such a case in the recent past, you need to look no further than Myanmar, formerly known as ‘Burma’. As I explain in my just-published ASPI Special Report, ‘Myanmar: A Nonproliferation Success Story,’ Myanmar officials have made significant progress on the nonproliferation front since the middle of 2011, so much so that their country is now hailed as a nonproliferation role model in the making.
Myanmar has come a long way. When in the late 1990s Myanmar officials began to express an interest in expanding their rudimentary civilian nuclear activities and sought to acquire a research reactor from Russia, the international community raised concerns because Myanmar had neither the need for nor the infrastructure and funding to operate such a reactor. In the end, Myanmar-Russia nuclear cooperation didn’t go anywhere. But subsequent allegations that Naypyidaw might have developed a relationship with North Korea fuelled strong fears that it could be interested in obtaining nuclear weapons.
These fears were magnified by Myanmar’s refusal to fully endorse the nonproliferation regime. While Myanmar officials had systematically rejected nuclear weapons as an instrument of statecraft, there were important gaps and limitations in their nuclear safeguards and, significantly, they hadn’t endorsed the principal nuclear safety and security conventions, as well as the regimes governing missiles or biological and chemical weapons.
Yet in mid-2011, almost overnight, everything changed. Naypyidaw abandoned its nuclear research program and radically shifted its approach to nonproliferation, in both words and deeds. Myanmar officials made clear that they were eager to burnish their nonproliferation credentials and roll back their dealings with North Korea. They quickly followed through on their declarations with several concrete actions, including the signature of an Additional Protocol with the International Atomic Energy Agency to strengthen nuclear safeguards (2013), the ratification of the Biological and Chemical Weapons Conventions (2014, 2015), and the adoption of a new trade law to better control sensitive technology (2012).
That nonproliferation U-turn needs to be understood as part of the broader reform agenda which began when the military junta in power since the 1980’s decided to democratise the country and open it up to the world. Because a key motivation behind these reforms was to reach out to the West, and the US in particular (to compensate for a growing and increasingly unsustainable reliance on China) and because Washington made nonproliferation endorsement a non-negotiable condition of its engagement, Naypyidaw delivered, and did so quickly.
That being said, even though Myanmar officials have made considerable progress on nonproliferation over the past few years, they still have much more to do. Plainly, Myanmar isn’t finished with nonproliferation. There are numerous instruments that it’s yet to endorse and, just as important, it’s yet to fully implement the ones most recently adopted.
The problem is that implementing nonproliferation instruments is immensely time-consuming and labor-intensive, and Naypyidaw not only has limited capacity to do so (and do so in a timely fashion), but it also has multiple, often higher, priorities as it opens to the world and transitions to democracy. Another challenge is the place and role of the Myanmar armed forces—the Tatmadaw—in government affairs, which remain significant even after the reforms and create difficulties or complications for nonproliferation implementation.
In these circumstances, it’s imperative that the US, Western countries and the broader international community keep the spotlight on Myanmar and help its officials to solve problems so that they stay the course on nonproliferation. In other words, as I argue in the paper, outside powers should keep the pressure on, keep the engagement active (and expand it to systematically include Tatmadaw officers), and keep the assistance flowing. It’s an incredibly daunting and protracted task, but one that is likely to pay off and confirm that Myanmar is, indeed, a nonproliferation success story.
Late last month, the United Nations Security Council held their annual open debate on women, peace and security (WPS). 80 representatives spoke, 72 of whom were representatives of member states. The president of the Security Council called on representatives to focus their statements on the progress achieved in implementing commitments made last year for the 15th anniversary of UNSCR 1325.
The WPS agenda is based on eight UN Security Council Resolutions. The first of those resolutions, UNSCR 1325, which passed on 31 October 2000, acknowledged that men and women experience conflict differently. It required women’s protection from the effects of violence (particularly sexual violence); and their participation in the prevention, mitigation, resolution and recovery from conflict. Since then, subsequent resolutions have gone into detail about a range of activities including peace negotiations; disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration; security sector reform; the rule of law; and countering violent extremism.
In this year’s debate, Australia’s Ambassador to the UN, Gillian Bird, reported on research by Monash University into the role women play in combatting extremism so we can better understand how to tap into their valuable experiences. She also spoke of other concrete commitments, including support for the Global Acceleration Instrument facilitating grassroots women’s participation in peace processes.
In closing, the Ambassador stated that ‘to sustain peace we must include women; not just in our words, but in our actions.’ This sentiment was echoed by Germany’s representative, who articulated that ‘the shortcomings in the implementation of the women and peace and security framework are due not to a lack of words, but to a lack of action.’
Australia’s National Action Plan (NAP) on WPS expires in 2018. It’s a whole-of-government policy document, coordinated by the Office for Women in the Department of Prime Minister and Cabinet. The Attorney General’s Department, Australian Civil–Military Centre, the AFP, DFAT and the Department of Defence all have responsibility for its implementation.
Outside of government, a range of non-government organisations like World Vision, the Red Cross, ActionAid and Care implement a range of programs within the WPS agenda. It’s largely due to the advocacy of organisations like the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom that Australia even has a NAP. Community groups like Diaspora Action Australia localise the agenda, and academics from a range of universities undertake research that can be used to inform policy.
Australia’s NAP is flexible enough to address some of the peace and security challenges we currently face. However, more work needs to be done to mainstream the agenda and implement it in our foreign policy, peace and security operations.
Situations in our near neighbourhood—Bougainville and Myanmar—require close scrutiny with the WPS agenda in mind, as do conflicts that are further afield, such as Iraq and Syria.
In Bougainville, women are key peacemakers. As their independence referendum draws nearer and negotiations on the reopening of the Panguna copper mine continue, we must heed the voices of women to prevent a resurgence of conflict.
In Myanmar, the Army uses rape as a tactic of war, particularly against minority ethnic groups, blatantly ignoring Security Council Resolution 2106. Australia is simultaneously normalising its relations with Myanmar and increasing its WPS activities in Australia’s Defence Cooperation Program. It’s paramount that Burmese military personnel are proactively screened for allegations of sexual violence before being included in training and education opportunities and the Defence Cooperation Program.
In Syria and Iraq, gendered war crimes have driven the conflict with Daesh. There’s an unprecedented opportunity to end impunity for sexual violence in armed conflict. Rape is being used as a tactic of war, as a constituent of genocide and in crimes against humanity. More than 30,000 foreign fighters that swelled the ranks of Daesh and other extremist organisations in Iraq and Syria last year. In countries such as France, Germany, and the United Kingdom, war crimes, genocide and crimes against humanity are outlawed in domestic legislation. Finland and Sweden have already bought cases against their nationals.
In Australia, genocide is outlawed under the Genocide Convention Act of 1949. War crimes are criminal offences under the Geneva Conventions Act and the War Crimes Act which have been incorporated in Division 268 of the Criminal Code Act. Over 100 Australians have travelled to Iraq and Syria to fight with Daesh and other extremist groups. Investigations and prosecutions need to be bought against Australians who have perpetrated these crimes.
Australia has made great strides in implementing the WPS agenda since it launched its first NAP back in 2012. While actions such as provision of gender advisors throughout the Australian Defence Force are a notable advance, implementation of the agenda isn’t just about applying a general gender perspective. It requires consideration of the design and conduct of activities such as security sector reform, disarmament, demobilisation, reintegration and the rule of law.
The key failing of the Australian NAP is monitoring and evaluation. Civil society is currently considering the recommendations it will make to government on the process and content of the next NAP. No doubt they will call for a good monitoring and evaluation framework. It will need to incorporate pre-existing evaluation processes across government and integrate new frameworks such as the Sustainable Development Goals and General Recommendation 30 of the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women. In so doing, it’ll ensure WPS is included in standard operating procedures for all government departments responsible for the specific activities outlined in the Security Council resolutions.
Australia officially launched its candidacy for membership of the United Nations Human Rights Council for the 2018–2020 term in October last year. If elected to a seat in the 2017 vote, Minister for Foreign Affairs Julie Bishop said Australia would aim to ‘advance human rights in practical ways that have far reaching systematic effects’. Given that it’ll be up against France and Spain, with a reliable bloc of EU votes, Australia will need to prove its genuine interests to the claim. One way to do so would be to turn its attention to Myanmar—where human rights concerns are plentiful—to address ongoing violations in the country.
‘Nope, nope, nope’ were former prime minister Tony Abbott’s words when confirming that Australia wouldn’t resettle any of the 8,000 Rohingya refugees stranded at sea last May. Abbott pointed the finger at Myanmar for ‘letting the asylum seekers leave’ and went on to say it was the regional responsibility of the Myanmar’s closest neighbours to tackle the issue. Rather than playing the blame game, the sensible route would be for Australia to acknowledge its own regional responsibility and engage in addressing the human rights violations—the systemic root of the reasons people seek to leave Myanmar.
Myanmar’s made recent progress in its peace process and national reconciliation efforts. But ongoing human rights abuses have seen an estimated 94,000 persecuted Rohingya and Bangladeshis flee the country since early 2014, some landing close to Australia’s shores.
The country’s minority Rohingya Muslim population have long suffered from discriminatory policies and practices, including the arbitrary deprivation of nationality. Under the 1982 Citizenship Law, the Rohingya population were deemed stateless in Myanmar, afforded no real protection and left vulnerable to human rights violations. Despite pilot citizenship verification programs, many are still subject to other restrictions across Rakhine State, where the majority of Myanmar’s Rohingya population live.
Local orders in Rakhine State—discriminatory policies and directives issued by local authorities—have been in place since the mid-1990s. They set out punishable offences and prescribe broad powers to local authorities to enforce selective restrictions on marriage, childbirth and on the freedom of movement of the Rohingya population. Restriction on the freedom of movement can hinder access to education, health care and other basic services. The implementation of discriminatory practices in Rakhine State—which are said to be the root cause of irregular migration movements—remains unresolved.
Last month, in a commendable move, the National League for Democracy (NLD) government announced of the establishment of the Advisory Commission on Rakhine State. Unfortunately the chair of the Commission, former UN Secretary General Kofi Annan, has confirmed the Commission’s mandate doesn’t extend its powers to conduct human rights investigations, but will focus on finding impartial solutions to ‘support development’ in Rakhine State. If human rights abuses—including the local orders in Rakhine State—continue to be overlooked, the country’s Rohingya minority population will be increasingly segregated, stifling the country’s national reconciliation process. Contrary to Tony Abbott’s view, that isn’t just a problem for Myanmar and its immediate neighbours.
Australia’s missing an opportunity by not championing human rights in Myanmar. Australia should call on Myanmar to immediately tackle the legislative changes required to verify citizenship of persecuted minorities. The country should also be encouraged to pursue an immediate human rights investigation into the local orders in Rakhine State. In doing so, Australia can leave its reputation of turning a blind eye to regional human rights concerns behind and prove its commitment to being an international champion of human rights.
And though successful in some contexts, state-on-state engagement with Myanmar doesn’t need to be adversarial. As well as standing up for human rights from afar, Australia can take positive action on the ground, by providing apolitical professional military human rights education, in settings such as the recent peacekeeping training course. Australia should draw on its past engagements with Myanmar and the Tatmadaw, including its now discontinued human rights training program, to develop a new program that keeps up with the changing political landscape.
Australia is well placed to capitalise on the move to democracy in Myanmar, and to nudge the NLD government to address concerns on a local level to complement Australia’s engagement. Not only would it strengthen Australia’s claim to a seat on the UN Human Rights Council, but addressing instability in Myanmar would also align with its interest in a stable and prosperous region.
China is a big fan of dams. Indeed, over the last 50 years, the country has constructed more dams than all other countries combined. But there’s one dam that China never managed to get built: the Myitsone Dam in Myanmar. And Chinese leaders can’t seem to let it go.
The Myitsone Dam was to stand at the headwaters of the Irrawaddy River, Myanmar’s lifeline. It was designed as a hydroelectric power project, which would generate energy for export to China, at a time when Myanmar’s economy depended on its giant neighbour. Ruled by a brutal military junta, Myanmar faced crippling US-led sanctions and broad international isolation.
Where others saw human-rights violations, China saw an opportunity to advance its own strategic and resource interests. When the Myitsone Dam project was introduced, China was also establishing a foothold in Myanmar’s Kyaukpyu port on the Bay of Bengal, from which it would build energy pipelines to southern China.
A stronger presence in Myanmar’s Irrawaddy, which flows from near the Chinese border to the Andaman Sea, promised to provide China with a shorter, cheaper trade route to Europe. As an added benefit, the Myitsone project—and, more broadly, China’s relationship with Myanmar—would advance China’s ambition of challenging India’s advantage around the Indian Ocean.
Everything seemed to be going according to plan. But in 2011, just two years after the $3.6 billion project got underway, Myanmar’s government suddenly suspended the dam’s construction—a slap in the face to China. Moving toward democratic reform, President Thein Sein’s government was eager to cast off the view of Myanmar as a Chinese client state.
Sein got what he wanted. Myanmar’s reversal on the Myitsone Dam became a watershed moment for the country’s democratic transition. It helped to bring an end to Myanmar’s international isolation, and an easing of the long-standing Western sanctions that made Myanmar so dependent on China in the first place. In 2012, Barack Obama became the first US president ever to visit Myanmar.
Last year, Myanmar elected its first civilian-led government. The National League for Democracy, led by the former political prisoner Aung San Suu Kyi, won the election in a landslide. Though Suu Kyi was blocked from running for the presidency directly, she’s the most powerful figure in Myanmar’s 10-month-old government.
Alongside all of this democratic progress, however, Myanmar’s relations with China cooled considerably. After work on the Myitsone Dam halted, several other dam and energy projects were also put on hold, though Chinese firms did manage to complete multibillion-dollar oil and gas pipelines from Myanmar’s western coast to southern China in 2013-2014.
But China has not given up on the Myitsone project. Indeed, President Xi Jinping seems to be trying to seize the opening created by Suu Kyi’s efforts to defuse bilateral tensions—her first diplomatic trip since the election was to Beijing—to pressure her to reverse Sein’s decision.
China has warned that if Myanmar fails to resume the Myitsone project, it will be liable to pay $800 million to China. Hong Liang, China’s ambassador to Myanmar, declared three months ago that Myanmar should be paying $50 million in interest alone for each year the project is suspended. But if the project were completed, Hong continued, Myanmar could reap high returns by exporting much of the electricity to China.
The threats haven’t fallen on deaf ears. Before her visit to Beijing, Suu Kyi tasked a 20-member commission to review proposed and existing hydropower projects along the Irawaddy, including the suspended Myitsone deal.
But Suu Kyi, who disparaged the dam project when she led the opposition to the junta, remains unlikely to restart the Myitsone project. As much as she wants China off her back—an objective that surely drove the decision to launch the commission—actually agreeing to resume work on the deeply unpopular Myitsone Dam would be too politically compromising to consider.
In fact, within Myanmar, the Myitsone project is widely regarded as a yet another neo-colonial policy, designed to expand China’s influence over smaller countries, while feeding its own resource greed, regardless of local conditions or needs. And there’s plenty of evidence to support this reading —beginning with China’s demand for most of the electricity, even as much of Myanmar suffers from long daily power outages.
Moreover, the construction that did take place had serious consequences for the people of Myanmar. By flooding a large swath of land, the project displaced many subsistence farmers and fishermen, fueling a popular backlash that contributed to the end of a 17-year ceasefire between the Kachin Independence Army and government forces. (Ironically, as part of its effort to get Suu Kyi on their side, the Chinese are now seeking to mediate peace talks between the government and the rebels, who, it’s long been believed, receive arms from China).
Chinese pressure to revive the Myitsone project is reviving anti-Chinese sentiment in Myanmar. Indeed, while Suu Kyi was in Beijing, anti-Chinese protests flared anew back home. At a time when Myanmar is being wooed by all major powers and eager international investors, there’s no incentive for the government—much less the public—to ignore the environmental and human costs of China’s projects.
It’s time for China to recognize that the decision to end the Myitsone project will not be reversed. It can hope that Suu Kyi’s commission makes some face-saving recommendations, such as paying compensation to China or making new deals for smaller, more environmentally friendly power plants. But, with Suu Kyi committed to a neutral foreign policy, China’s days of sucking resources from Myanmar, without any regard for the environmental or human costs, are over.