Insight Myanmar

Episode #481: Toby Mendel, a lawyer with the Centre for Law and Democracy, has spent over a decade working on freedom of expression and democratic reform in Myanmar. He recalls the Thein Sein years (2012–2015) as an exhilarating period when military-linked officials introduced new laws and appeared surprisingly open to external advice. International organizations were energized, and citizens sensed real hope. But with the NLD’s 2015 election victory, momentum stalled. Mendel points to the 2015 broadcasting law, which could have created an independent broadcasting council, but was never implemented by the NLD. By the 2021 coup, Myanmar still had only twelve licensed radio stations, evidence of a media sector “absolutely not developed.” At the core, he argues, was the NLD’s reluctance to practice democracy in full: they affirmed it in principle but resisted certain aspects, such as a free, critical press. Concerning the Rohingya genocide, he expresses disappointment that Aung San Suu Kyi, despite her “enormous moral authority... just went along with it”; in his view, not using “her moral and political authority is a significant failure as a leader.” Since the coup, however, he has seen attitudes shift as more Burmese experience the military’s repression first-hand, prompting rethinking about the Rohingya and entrenched patriarchy. Despite NLD shortcomings, progress was still made in some areas. For example, CLD worked with a Women’s Health Organization on the right to information, showing how openness could strengthen women’s rights. Mendel also established the Myanmar Media Lawyers Network, helping build capacity for democratic media law. The coup was a rupture that few foresaw. Officials once moving toward democratic reforms were jailed overnight. Since then, CLD has pivoted to supporting civil society in conflict zones, developing adaptable democratic frameworks, and aiding local “statelets” experimenting with governance. Mendel stresses that replacing the military with something “less toxic” is not enough—Myanmar needs real democratic structures. While free elections are impossible today, local initiatives adopting media policies and civil society rules mark fragile but vital first steps. Looking outward, he warns of China’s export of authoritarian models and the spread of disinformation, and urges Western governments, especially Canada, to prioritize democracy support. “The people of Myanmar are engaged in an epic struggle,” he concludes, one that demands far greater international backing.

Episode #480: Michael Santi Keezing, a former Thai Forest monk, describes himself as both a Buddhist and a “post-Buddhist,” shaped by a lifelong effort to understand the mind, culture, and the limits of spiritual practice for someone raised in an intensely individualistic Western society. He recalls that before he ever meditated, he felt a persistent longing to understand consciousness, a “free-floating yearning” that led him into Eastern spirituality through books like Be Here Now, Siddhartha, and the works of Carlos Castaneda. Discovering a nearby monastery in the Ajahn Chah lineage, he eventually ordained, believing he was pursuing clear insight through what he calls Buddhist phenomenology. Only later did he recognize that trauma and a desire for safety also influenced his decision, as the monastery offered structure, belonging, and a refuge from uncertainty. Inside monastic life he set aside the intellectual world that once defined him, devoting himself to meditation and the Vinaya. Meditation gave him emotional clarity, while the discipline cultivated humility and restraint. Yet he also saw rigidity within Western monastic communities—an absolutism around hierarchy and rules that sometimes obscured compassion. A turning point came when he lived among Indonesian and Thai monks in Queens, where identical rituals felt more human and flexible, revealing that Western monastics inadvertently reshaped the tradition through their WEIRD conditioning. That conditioning, he says, produces inward-focused individuals burdened by psychic wounds, often misreading Buddhism through a modern psychological lens. Returning to the act of reading late in his monastic years, he encountered books on neuroscience, which reframed experiences he once interpreted through Buddhist metaphysics. Realizing that no single framework held all answers, he eventually moved beyond monasticism. Michael now emphasizes a practical understanding of not-self, rejects political quietism, and argues that wisdom must express itself as action and responsibility. Reflecting on Burma's struggle, he affirms that “justice can be achieved for the Burmese people,” holding hope while remainingcommitted to engagement.

Episode #479: “Thailand is not about people, it's about diversity. People are a very important resource to build a country, no matter where you're from, or who you are, right?” Born in Thailand’s Deep South near the Malay border, Koreeyor Manuchae embodies layered identities— Muslim, Malay, Thai— and has become one of the country’s boldest advocates for migrant and refugee rights. Her path began almost by chance: a volunteer posting after law school brought her to Mae Sot, along the Thai-Myanmar border. There, she met people fleeing repression and poverty and saw that her legal education meant little unless it served those excluded from its protection. This realization became her life’s compass. Starting with simple tasks like filing wage complaints, she uncovered deeper systems of exploitation. She saw that Myanmar migration was an act of survival— and that Thailand’s prosperity depended on those it marginalized. “Without migrant workers, Mae Sot would be nothing,” she says. Yet while migrants sustain Thailand’s industries, they’re often vilified as criminals or disease carriers. She notes that this is a kind of hypocrisy, given how much migrants have contributed to the development of Thai society and prosperity. Manuchae’s criticism of Thailand’s migrant policies is fierce. Legal channels are so costly and slow that people fall into illegality by necessity. She argues for a system that is simple, affordable, and humane—one that values dignity over control. Her landmark “chicken farm” case, where enslaved workers won justice, proved that freedom isn’t defined by unlocked doors. But she knows victories are fragile: courts still blur the line between forced labor and trafficking. Koreeyor Manuchae often speaks of the need to recognize humanity before nationality, believing that identity is defined not by documents but by the simple fact of existence. Or as she says, “We need to care about fundamental things like fundamental right for human rights as well.”

Episode #478: The second episode in a five-part series, these conversations were recorded at the 16th International Burma Studies Conference at Northern Illinois University, where scholars, students, researchers, and practitioners came together for presentations, forums, roundtables, and cultural exhibitions centered on the theme “Dealing with Legacies in Burma.” Taking place amid ongoing political turmoil and humanitarian crisis, the gathering offered a rare space for open dialogue. Insight Myanmar was invited into this environment to record interviews with a wide range of attendees, produced in collaboration with NIU’s Center for Southeast Asian Studies. We hope these episodes carry listeners into the atmosphere of the conference and into conversation with the people who continue to shape the field today.Thuta, a Burmese educator and poet, moved to the US to study Education Policy and Leadership at the University of Oregon. He talks of his love of literature, especially poetry, which he describes as an emotional companion that shifts with physical place and inner state, offering solace during joy, heartbreak, and national turmoil. Identifying himself as a “word player,” he blends languages to express identity, exemplified by his coined term “Oregon Padauk,” which later inspired an educational organization focused on trauma-informed practices. Thuta’s time in Oregon shaped him deeply through its natural beauty, progressive spirit, and the generosity of its people—especially senior citizens engaged in social justice. He concludes with the belief that individuals can be the light for others during difficult times.Alicia Turner reflects on how Burma Studies has transformed during her twenty-five years in the field. She critiques the colonial assumptions behind the idea of scholarly “objectivity” and stresses the need for researchers—both foreign and Myanmar-born—to examine their own assumptions, positionality, and embedded privileges. Stressing a “decolonized” approach, she notes the newly prominent role of young Myanmar scholars whose perspectives offer essential correctives to earlier, outsider-dominated research. Turner also argues that research undertaken during the current conflict cannot be neutral, since even seemingly apolitical fieldwork carries political consequences. In discussing Buddhism and the Western mindfulness movement, she acknowledges both its personal benefits and its distortions of Burmese traditions.Kathryn, a student researching political violence, the resistance, and the country’s democratic aspirations, notes that people are contributing in diverse ways to the fight based on their circumstances. However, she wishes major resistance leadership was more grounded, similar to past leaders who remained physically embedded in public life. She stresses the need to reject rigid “us versus them” thinking by recognizing the humanity of ordinary soldiers who joined the military for survival. As a Gen Z member, she says the current youth motivation is shaped by past experiences of relative freedom during the 2010s, which offered a glimpse of a more hopeful future. She warns that the proliferation of arms can create the illusion of immunity from long-term consequences and emphasizes the need for restraint to avoid repeating global patterns where victims become oppressors.

Episode #477: “I found Myanmar a really interesting case study,” says Gerard McCarthy, a political sociologist and author of Outsourcing the Polity. His work explores how deeply divided,impoverished societies emerge from conflict and build political settlements. Drawn to Myanmar during its 2010 transition, McCarthy focuses his research on provincial regions like northern Bago and Karen States—areas largely ignored in existing scholarship, which tends to center on Yangon and Mandalay. McCarthy examines how Myanmar’s military regime, following the collapse of socialism, strategically withdrew from welfare provision and encouraged businesspeople and religious institutions to fill the gap. This “social outsourcing,” he argues, gave rise to a form of “moral citizenship” in which the public relies on voluntary charity, not state entitlements. Buddhist ideas such as parahita were reinterpreted to support this system, laying the groundwork for broad civil society engagement—including the response to Cyclone Nargis in 2008. Post-coup resistance, including support for PDFs and displaced communities, builds on these same networks. But McCarthy warns against romanticizing civil society: non-state welfare is often uneven, unregulated, and unsustainable, he cautions. He notes that as a legacy of this “moral citizenship” dynamic, both elites and the general public now undervalue state-based social protections. To move forward, he suggests, Myanmar must learn from as well as build on the transparency and trust embedded in charitable systems. “The state might try to mimic the aspects of the non-state sector which people have faith in,” he argues. For him, voluntary generosity is not a substitute for nationwide systems of justice or systematic redistribution.

Episode #476: Minnthonya, a deeply committed Burmese monk, recounts his remarkable journey from traditional monastic education to becoming a key figure in Myanmar's resistance movements. Initially drawn to the Buddhist path as a young boy, he studied under teachers who encouraged a deep engagement with both Buddhist scriptures and broader knowledge. It was this education that opened his eyes to the true political situation in his country, where the military regime had not only oppressed the people but also controlled religious institutions. As a teenager, Minnthonya's desire to change Myanmar grew, and he began organizing underground reading groups with fellow monks to discuss the country's dire political situation. Despite the regime’s brutal repression, he and his peers covertly shared political writings and inspired others to question the status quo. His efforts culminated in his leadership role during the 2007 Saffron Revolution, where monks took to the streets, reciting the Metta Sutta, demanding freedom from military oppression. One of their key actions was the "Patta Nekku Sanna"—a symbolic boycott of the military’s offerings, which united the monks in their defiance against the regime.Forced into exile after the regime’s crackdown, Minnthonya continues his activism from Thailand, setting up libraries, education centers, and organizing resistance efforts among exiled Burmese communities. His commitment to the Dhamma has never wavered, as he believes that true Buddhist teachings must address the suffering of the people. For him, the fight for democracy and justice is inseparable from the spiritual path. He continues to advocate for both inner and outer peace, teaching that monks have a duty to stand up against oppression and that the path to freedom lies not only in meditation but also in courageous action against injustice.“We never believe in the military regime!” he exclaims. "For a very long time, [the military] has been destroying our Buddhism. They’ve killed many monks, sent countless others to jail, and destroyed monasteries—even now!”

Episode #475: “So many peoples in Myanmar who are fighting for democracy and human rights... they don’t get any title or any recognize, but they did what they believed in.” Wut Hmone Win carries a legacy of resistance that began long before her. Her father, a student leader in the 1974 uprising involving U Thant’s funeral, was imprisoned for his defiance of Ne Win’s regime, and her family lived under surveillance. “The whole life of me and my family is [being] watched by the military,” she says. That experience taught her that freedom always has a cost. Educated in economics in Yangon and Norway, she had once hoped to live an ordinary life, free from politics. But when the 2021 coup struck Myanmar, the safety and democracy she enjoyed in Norway became unbearable reminders of what her people had lost. “I am living in Norway. I feel democracy and freedom and safety here, and human rights,” she says, with the understanding that all of this was lost completely back home. Within days she began organizing protests, helping to found the CRPH Support Group, Norway—a coalition of over twenty-one ethnic and religious organizations fighting for Myanmar’s democracy from exile. As General Secretary, she oversees its humanitarian aid programs and international advocacy. “I do need money to support people who are suffering in Myanmar,” she says. “That’s my simple strategy… we do need to support human rights… we do need [to be] shouting out loudly effectively.” Wut Hmone Win is critical of diaspora groups that remain confined to their own circles. “They are [remaining] in their own group, and that is a limited amount,” she says, emphasizing the need to reach Norwegians who “don’t know about Myanmar.” Traveling beyond Oslo, she holds cultural events in towns like Lillehammer to “show our culture, dancing and then what happened in Myanmar.” For her, crossing those boundaries is how the revolution’s voice can truly be heard. “We are standing here like a diaspora group in Norway,” she says. “We do need support, and we do need [recognition] too.”

Episode #474: Scott Aronson, a career humanitarian and conflict expert, describes his years in Myanmar between 2015 and the 2021 coup as “a really dynamic but also very challenging time to work in Myanmar.” He reflects on how his professional experience, field expertise, and moral convictions converged during a period of both democratic optimism and deepening crisis. Beginning his humanitarian career in the early 2000s, Aronson worked in Darfur and northern Uganda, where he learned the importance of coordination, adaptability, and respect for civilians in violent settings. Later, with USAID’s Bureau for Humanitarian Assistance, he managed disaster and conflict responses, including the 2015 Nepal earthquake. In 2016, he became USAID’s senior conflict and governance advisor at the U.S. Embassy in Yangon, supporting Myanmar’s transition from dictatorship to democracy. His work focused on strengthening civil society networks and promoting inclusion in a fragile peace process. The 2017 Rohingya crisis shifted his attention to Rakhine State, where he worked with both Rohingya and Rakhine partners to provide humanitarian aid and document abuses. He calls this a time of hope mixed with heartbreak, when Myanmar’s potential for democratic unity collided with long-standing ethnic and religious divisions. When the 2021 coup struck, Aronson was in Yangon under COVID quarantine. He helped coordinate emergency communication and funding for local partners after banks and networks collapsed. He credits Burmese activists with sustaining resistance, describing how local groups organized safe houses, escape routes, and covert aid despite mortal danger. Aronson argues that supporting Myanmar’s democracy serves both moral and strategic U.S. interests, rejects isolationist arguments, and acknowledges the personal toll of the crisis. He remainshopeful that unity among Myanmar’s diverse movements will eventually rebuild the nation: “When that day comes, and it will come,” he says, “there’s going to be so much growth and opportunity in the country.”

Episode #473: “The military was pursuing an illiberal strategy to peace, and Norway became complicit, not necessarily by design, but by its effect, it became a de facto sponsor of a strategy for illiberal peace building by the military.” Kristian Stokke draws on decades of research across Sri Lanka, South Africa, and Indonesia, where Norway’s peace efforts often reinforced state dominance rather than confronting inequality. He argues that Myanmar followed the same trajectory. “Norway became the envoy of the West that went in to test the waters,” he recalls, acting as a diplomatic go-between for Western powers eager to engage Myanmar’s generals. “When we came to Myanmar, it was very clear that Norway’s engagement was interest-based. It was no longer pretending to be just altruistic.” Norway’s involvement, he continues, was driven as much by self-interest as by moral aspiration: “as a diplomat, as an aid donor and as an investor.” He goes on to describe that as a result, the so-called democratic opening of the 2010s was not a genuine transition: “This was not the negotiated transition of South Africa or Latin American countries in the 1980s,” Stokke explains. “It was an authoritarian-led transition to less closed dictatorship or electoral autocracy.” He believes Norway’s peacebuilding “actually undermined the forces for power sharing and democracy,” focusing too much on the state and too little on democratic and ethnic movements. Reflecting on the years since the coup, Stokke laments Norway’s caution: “At times, I find it surprising or unfortunate that they don’t come out in support of those actors who are really at the forefront of the struggle for better democracy in Myanmar.”

Episode #472: “Where is my grandmother’s vote?!” asks Thiri. Her core argument is that Myanmar’s struggle today is not a failed revolution, but the evolution of a long, cyclical people’s movement, whose legitimacy most recently derives from a valid election overturned by the military, and from the accumulated sacrifice and sustained moral agency of ordinary people. For Thiri, the most powerful form of resistance now is preserving dignity, voice, and mutual care amid prolonged uncertainty. She grounds this argument in lived experience. Her grandmother, eighty-two at the time, insisted on voting in person in the November 2020 general election despite being eligible for early voting at home. On election day morning, she woke before dawn and went to the polling station to cast her ballot for the National League for Democracy; a week later, she died. She never witnessed the coup that overturned the election results, sparing her the pain of seeing what she regarded as a sacred civic duty rendered meaningless. For Thiri, the legitimacy crisis begins there: millions of votes, like her grandmother’s, were cast in good faith but never honored. From this starting point, Thiri argues that any new election organized by the same military lacks moral and political legitimacy. She describes it as an attempt to erase their unresolved theft. Democracy, she insists, cannot be reset without reckoning with the original violation. The election matters deeply to the military and to some international actors seeking closure, but not to people living with airstrikes, displacement, and fear. To the junta, it functions as an exit strategy that just sustains their oppressive rule in the guise civilian governance. To put the despair surrounding these times in Myanmar in context, Thiri turns to movement theory. She describes movements as cyclical, marked by peaks of hope followed by repression and exhaustion. The downturn now, she emphasizes, is but a natural phase, and to not get overly caught up in it. Thiri believes the present moment calls for reflection, role clarity, and recognition of small victories that preserve people power. Survival itself becomes a form of resistance. She frames emotional self-preservation as defiance, concluding, “I would rather choose to remember the kindness and the community and the resilience of people that are against any form of oppression.”

Episode #471: Sebastian Copija's journey from being a Buddhist monk to embracing lay life is a story of deep introspection and balance. Monastic life had afforded him security and structure, but Sebastian felt detached from the broader world. So after ten years as a monk in Thailand and Myanmar, he disrobed, and returned to Europe to care for his parents.Lay life introduced him to new ways to apply his practice, including re-engaging in relationships. The challenges of navigating the strong and sometimes messy emotions that often accompany social and personal interactions has become an essential aspect of his practice, testing his ability to stay open-hearted amidst everyday struggles. He speaks of his present, romantic relationship as a spiritual partnership, focusing on mutual support and non-attachment.Sebastian emphasizes that the lay path is not a lesser one, requiring mindfulness and insight just as being a monastic does. He is now a lay Dhamma teacher in Poland, focusing on integrating mindfulness into daily life and creating supportive community environments where students openly share their challenges and growth. “When you disrobe, it’s just gone! Ten years of your life is gone, and suddenly, the only thing you have is the clarity of the Dhamma you’ve developed. It’s not the robes that define my practice but the application of Dhamma to every moment of life.”

Episode #470: This episode of Insight Myanmar continues our three-part series covering the Decolonizing Southeast Asian Studies Conference at Chiang Mai University, bringing together voices exploring how colonial legacies still shape knowledge, identity, and power in the region. Thai scholar-activist Thiti Jamkajornkeiat argues that true decolonization requires more than inclusion—it demands structural transformation. “The problem about Southeast Asian studies,” he explains, “is that it has a colonial baggage and is exterior—it’s been developed outside of Southeast Asia.” He calls for scholarship that centers local thinkers as equal contributors and research that serves the needs and livelihoods of Southeast Asians. For Thiti, decolonization must confront global hierarchies of knowledge, funding systems, and academic validation that continue to privilege Western authority. His vision is both intellectual and emotional: a call for courage, tenderness, and solidarity in reclaiming the power to define one’s own story. From Myanmar, Kyaw shares reflections rooted in his upbringing within the country’s monastic education system. Growing up as a novice, he experienced how Buddhist and secular teachings intertwined, shaping his understanding of education as a moral as well as intellectual pursuit. Today, amid crisis and repression, he highlights the resilience of Myanmar’s people. “Despite everything going in a negative way, the resilience of this community is huge,” he says. For Kyaw, endurance is an act of care—protecting the collective spirit and reimagining the nation’s future together. Khaing expands on this, focusing on the importance of communication and advocacy in a time when truth itself is dangerous. Having long listened to Insight Myanmar, she describes it as a vital platform allowing citizens to speak and be heard despite censorship and internet blackouts. “Your podcast is more than useful,” she insists. “It’s advocacy, and information awareness.”

Episode #469: “This is not simply about solving the conflict, but about understanding the conflict to begin with,” explains Bhanubhatra “Kaan” Jittiang, an assistant professor of political science at Chulalongkorn University and director of the Nelson Mandela Center for Conflict Resolution and Human Security. He argues that most external efforts to mediate or manage Myanmar’s conflict fail because they begin from the false assumption that Myanmar functions as a centralized, coherent nation-state. In his view, this assumption collapses because Myanmar is structurally complex, rapidly changing, and shaped by fragmented authority, layered identities, and long-normalized violence. Any workable approach, he insists, must start from how power, legitimacy, and survival actually operate, rather than from abstract peace formulas or standardized political templates. Kaan describes that Myanmar is often perceived in Thailand as a centralized state similar to Thailand itself, with ethnic diversity acknowledged but poorly understood in political terms. Descriptions of Myanmar as “federal,” he argues, are filtered through a centralized Thai frame that mistakes rhetoric for lived governance. This frame breaks down in practice. During early fieldwork after the coup, he encountered a dense landscape of armed groups and organizations that defy simple categorization. That confusion becomes emblematic of Myanmar’s reality: political and social organization operates through overlapping layers, and distinctions within ethnic groups matter deeply for authority and representation. Kaan argues that this complexity defines the conflict itself. Simplifying Myanmar leads outsiders to false solutions such as “bringing everyone to the table” without confronting who “everyone” actually is. He also emphasizes how quickly conditions change, warning that static narratives lead actors to misread shifts in control and governance. “In just two to three weeks, things change,” he notes. Anchoring his analysis regionally, he argues that Thailand experiences Myanmar’s crisis as a direct security pressure, rather than as a pressing tragedy. Capital-focused engagement, he contends, misreads a fragmented reality shaped largely at the border. Turning to humanitarian and security policy, he insists that long-term displacement demands investment in dignity, livelihoods, and prevention, not emergency response alone. He concludes that durable engagement must center people rather than rigid state frameworks, stating, “People have to be at the heart, and it must always be at the heart.”

Episode #468: Friedgard Lottermoser, born in Berlin in 1942, first came to Burma in 1959 when her stepfather was sent there on contract. What began as an expatriate posting soon turned into a lifelong spiritual journey, as she became one of the very few Westerners to study closely with the renowned meditation master Sayagyi U Ba Khin at the International Meditation Center (IMC) in Rangoon. At IMC, Friedgard encountered a teaching environment unlike anything she had known. U Ba Khin emphasized the direct observation of saṅkhāras—mental forces—teaching that liberation lay not in theory but in carefully watching the mind and body in real time. Friedgard recalled how his presence alone could anchor those around him, and how he often combined meticulous discipline with compassion and mettā. Her own training was rigorous. She sat thirteen courses at IMC, more than most Burmese were ever allowed, and experienced periods of deep absorption that were both transformative and challenging. She once became ill but refused medicine, convinced that meditation itself would cure her—an ethos that many disciples shared, with sesame oil and turmeric serving as the only remedies at the center. She also witnessed U Ba Khin heal himself of a severe eye infection by meditating directly into the pain, as well as accounts of him easing snake bites and tuberculosis among students through focused awareness and compassion. Friedgard’s life intertwined with other close disciples, such as Mother Sayama, whose delicate meditative states required careful support, and Ruth Denison, who once received “mental healing” from U Ba Khin across continents. Looking back, she emphasized that U Ba Khin never sought breadth but depth—he believed only those with strong spiritual potential would be drawn to him. Foreigners like Friedgard were the exceptions, allowed to stay longer and carry the Dhamma forward, especially after the military regime blocked U Ba Khin from traveling abroad.

Episode #467: “We still believe that engaging is more useful than not engaging,” says Kiat Sittheeamorn , former Thai Deputy Prime Minister and international trade negotiator. In this discussion, Kiat draws on decades of experience in engineering, business, and international diplomacy to reflect on the tough moral and practical choices facing Southeast Asia today. Kiat’s approach to public service was shaped by hardship, self-reliance, and a code rooted in early struggle. From power plant engineer to director of the Board of Trade, to an “accidental” entry into politics at the height of Thailand’s 1997 economic crisis, he moved quickly into three terms as Member of Parliament and one as Deputy Prime Minister. Carrying technical expertise into public life, Kiat saw integrity as the only defense against the temptations and the “confusion” of power. In Parliament, he explains how he fought corruption, intimidation and bribery, and helped force the repayment of billions in ill-gotten gains. Internationally, Kiat rejects “market fundamentalism,” insisting that global progress requires fairness alongside growth. For this reason, he prefers the term “free and fair trade” than “free trade” alone. Kiat views Southeast Asian economic integration as essential, but laments that Thailand’s “bad politics”—corruption, disunity, and passive excuses—have held the country back. His perspective on Myanmar is equally blunt. Thailand has borne refugee burdens faithfully, he says, while Western partners fail to deliver on their promises. On the value of sanctions or “megaphone diplomacy,” Kiat argues that quiet engagement—pragmatic, persistent, and rooted in genuine empathy—offers a better path forward, even when dealing with deeply flawed elections and authoritarian regimes.

Episode #466: Jonathan Moss, a Free Burma Rangers (FBR) volunteer and former U.S. Explosive Ordnance Disposal officer, speaks on the topic of landmines. He notes that the Burma Army routinely employs these devices around military camps, along roads and trails, and in villages. After the military takes a village, often accompanied by widespread looting and arson, it routinely seeds the ground with landmines near homes, places of worship and transit routes. Displaced villagers returning home face a stark choice: conduct ad hoc demining now or live with constant danger.“Mines are being laid, not only for defense, but to target civilians,” Moss says. “IDP routes, food paths, water access points – they’re increasingly contaminated.” Mines have been found at church entrances and home doorways, deliberately targeting civilians, in violation of international humanitarian law.More than 1,600 mine and UXO casualties were recorded in Myanmar in 2024 – the worst in the world for the second year running. Beyond deaths and injuries, contamination creates fear and economic hardship for communities.“Demining, it’s already happening with or without international support,” Moss says. “People just really can’t wait. They’re clearing paths to farms, water sources, medical clinics and schools out of necessity.”In partnership with communities, FBR is working to establish an Explosive Hazard Mitigation Center that would support existing efforts and upholding International Mine Action Standards as much as possible. In the midst of the uncertain conflict and a shortfall of international support at the local level, demining efforts face considerable challenges but also solutions that are in sight.

Episode #465: In a rich discussion on Buddhist manuscript cultures in Southeast Asia, Professor Volker Grabowsky and Dr. Silpsupa Jaengsawang explore how handwritten texts—especially those on palm leaf and mulberry paper—carry spiritual, cultural, and scholarly significance. They distinguish literature from manuscript study, which emphasizes the importance of materials, format and scribal context as much as the content.Manuscripts, they argue, are not just vessels of content, but cultural artifacts, and often used as sacred objects in monastic rituals. In Theravāda traditions, monks often preach from memory, andholding a manuscript mainly to symbolically evoke the connection to the Buddha’s teachings. They explain how traditional manuscript forms can also be used to convey secular content—such as histories and political commentary—and sometimes serve as tools of cultural preservation, such as in the Tai community in China.The scholars highlight the many challenges of preservation due to the deleterious effects of a tropical climate and natural disasters, as well as the social barrier of restricted access to manuscripts for women. Another challenge to preservation is the declining knowledge of traditional scripts in the modern world.Digitization efforts like the Hamburg-based Digital Library aim to safeguard these texts, but both scholars insist on the need for public engagement. The pair concludes that manuscript traditions persist not as relics but as dynamic forms coexisting with print and digital media—integrating past, present, and future in a living continuum of cultural practice.

Episode #464: Dr. Tun Aung Shwe, a researcher, former public health practitioner, political activist, and National Unity Government representative to Australia discusses Myanmar’s proliferating scam centers, calling them a symptom of a far deeper political and economic system rooted in decades of military rule. He explains that they began as small, family-run operations in northeastern Shan, operating initially on the borderlands, but have expanded rapidly, even into Yangon, Mandalay, and Naypyidaw. Scam centers operate under the protection of the military and its allied militias, continuing a long-standing pattern in which armed patronage and illicit economies sustain military power. The notorious Border Guard Forces are an example of this dynamic. Formed from splinter groups of ethnic armed organizations under military pressure, these forces control territory, protect scam compounds, and support the junta’s political agenda, including its planned elections, in exchange for freedom to conduct illegal business. He describes this arrangement as consistent with earlier strategies used under General Ne Win half a century ago, linking counterinsurgency directly to criminal enterprise. Tun Aung Shwe dismisses the military’s public crackdowns on scam centers as mere propaganda. While resistance groups preserve evidence and invite international observers when they close down a center, the military quickly destroys anything that can be traced back to it. He explains how, when Chinese authorities presented evidence implicating senior officers in scams targeting Chinese nationals, that pressure prompted limited internal action, but otherwise, the junta continues its institutional involvement in centers targeting other countries. He links the military’s staged anti-scam actions to the junta’s ongoing effort to regain international legitimacy. Contrast all this, he says, with the post-coup revolutionary movement, which has articulated shared principles for a federal democratic union without military involvement and now prioritizes security sector reform to build a professional federal force. “No one believes the Myanmar military today,” he concludes, “because the military lied again and again.”

Episode #463: “You know, I’m not a superwoman or anything, but at least I can do what I can do,” says Moe Thae Say with quiet conviction. Once a creative director and successful entrepreneur in Yangon’s digital and design scene, she lived comfortably, surrounded by friends who continued their middle-class lives even after the coup. But when Myanmar’s military seized power in 2021, Moe Thae Say could no longer accept normalcy under dictatorship. She used profits from her small business to support resistance groups—until she made a life-altering choice to join them. Leaving behind her career and family, she left the city and traveled to the border to train with the People’s Defense Force (PDF). For two months she endured grueling combat drills under defected soldiers, confronting fear, exhaustion, and discrimination as one of only seven women among sixty trainees. “My heartbeat was louder than the gunfire,” she recalls. Though barred from the frontline, she contributed through medical training, management, and fundraising, finding strength in solidarity— and in the presence of her longtime partner, now fiancé, whom she married amid airstrikes as an act of defiance and hope. Haunted by the constant threat of bombings, she slept with her shoes on, ready to flee. Yet her determination deepened. “I enjoyed it,” she says. “I’m thinking that my life is meaningful over there.” Now recovering from heart problems, she awaits the call to return, unafraid of death: “Once I die, I won’t remember anything— it just disappears.” Moe Thae Say remains critical of the revolution’s leadership in the NUG, urging decision-makers to “come to the ground and listen.” She believes art can bridge divides and awaken empathy in a desensitized urban middle class. Her call is simple but profound: to listen—to one another, to the suffering, and to the shared humanity that must fuel Myanmar’s struggle for freedom.

Episode #462: Dulyapak Preecharush, an associate professor of Southeast Asian studies and comparative political scientist specializing in Myanmar, argues that Myanmar’s post-independence political trajectory is best understood as a deliberately managed hybrid political system rather than a failed democratic transition. Drawing on his long-term research, he explains that this system combines limited political opening with entrenched military dominance, allowing reform and conflict management to proceed indefinitely while structurally blocking the emergence of genuine federal democracy. In his view, only a decisive rupture in military political power, rather than continued reform within the system, could produce a fundamentally new political order. He situates Myanmar alongside other hybrid regimes, such as Singapore and Cambodia, where elections and civilian institutions exist but core authority remains tightly controlled. Myanmar’s 2008 Constitution exemplifies this model by permitting parties and elections while guaranteeing the military veto power and reserved parliamentary seats. The concept of “disciplined democracy,” articulated by military leaders, captures this logic of participation without vulnerability. The relocation of the capital from Yangon to Naypyidaw in 2006 serves as a concrete illustration of this hybrid logic. Dulyapak explains the move as combining strategic, developmental, and symbolic aims. Shifting the capital inland reduced exposure to foreign intervention and mass uprisings, strengthened command-and-control capacity, and improved logistical reach across the Burman heartland. At the same time, the military sought to inscribe itself into a longer historical narrative by emulating precolonial monarchs through ritual practices, including pagoda construction and the ceremonial raising of white elephants as markers of legitimate rule. Naypyidaw’s deliberately zoned layout—separating civilian population, administration, and military command—physically embodies a system designed to allow limited political opening without threatening military control. Turning to federalism in Myanmar, Dulyapak traces its origins to the 1947 Panglong negotiations and its suppression after the 1962 military takeover, which centralized power and eliminatedpolitical debate. Federal ideas re-emerged after 2011 under a hybrid system, but their fragility was exposed by the 2021 coup. Today, he argues, Myanmar contains multiple governing forms simultaneously: centralized unitarian control in the heartland, near-autonomous rule in some frontier areas, and continued pursuit of democratic federalism elsewhere. This fragmentation, reinforced by regional geopolitics and constrained international engagement, sustains stalemate rather than resolution. Myanmar, he concludes, remains a revealing case for understanding why partial reform under hybrid rule fails to resolve foundational political conflict.