Myanmar's Enemy Within: Buddhist Violence and the Making of a Muslim 'Other'

Riassunto di Myanmar's Enemy Within

1. 1

   The Fragile Promise of Democracy

   

   00:00

   00:00

   In a noisy Yangon teashop, a university-educated young man leans forward with unsettling conviction: "We are building a fence with our bones." This chilling metaphor captures Myanmar's tragic paradox-a nation whose democratic awakening unleashed forces of exclusion rather than inclusion. As Myanmar emerged from decades of military rule in 2011, the world celebrated what appeared to be a triumph of democracy over dictatorship. Yet within months, shocking violence erupted between Buddhists and Muslims, particularly targeting the Rohingya minority in Rakhine State. This wasn't spontaneous hatred but the culmination of decades of careful social engineering by military rulers who had systematically weaponized ethnic and religious differences. The tragedy unfolding in Myanmar forces us to confront an uncomfortable truth: democracy without protection for minorities can become a vehicle for majority tyranny. When long-suppressed voices suddenly find freedom of expression, what happens when those voices call for the exclusion of others? Myanmar's story reveals how democratization, when built atop foundations of manufactured division, can unleash dormant prejudices with devastating consequences.

2. 2

   Colonial Roots of Modern Hatred

   Inizia ad ascoltare

   Before British colonization, identity in Myanmar was fluid, with people shifting ethnic affiliations based on political loyalties, trade relationships, or personal circumstances. The region featured porous boundaries with frequent intermarriage and cultural exchange. The British imported their Victorian obsession with racial classification, transforming these fluid identities into rigid categories. Census takers implemented strict classification systems based on language or geography, artificially dividing Myanmar into "Burma Proper" and the "Frontier Areas," which hardened previously flexible boundaries and politicized identity. Most damaging was how the British disrupted the relationship between Myanmar's monarchy and Buddhist clergy. By removing King Thibaw in 1885, they severed a sacred bond where rulers preserved Buddhist law while monks provided spiritual legitimacy. This created a vacuum eventually filled by nationalist movements seeking to restore Buddhism's central position - creating fault lines between traditional Buddhist values and colonial structures that would shape conflicts for generations.

3. 3

   The Military's Identity Machine

   Inizia ad ascoltare

   After seizing power in 1962, Myanmar's military junta manipulated ethnic divisions by creating an artificial taxonomy of "135 national races" deemed indigenous, making this classification the foundation of citizenship. Despite centuries of documented presence in Rakhine State, the Rohingya were deliberately excluded. The military systematically stripped Rohingya rights - first citizenship (via the 1982 Citizenship Act), then freedom of movement, education access, and ultimately their identity. Officials refused to use the name "Rohingya," insisting on the pejorative term "Bengali" to frame them as illegal immigrants from Bangladesh. This strategy transformed temporary political arrangements into seemingly timeless truths. The military's narrative that Myanmar's Buddhist identity faced existential threats became so embedded in national consciousness that when democratization began, many citizens embraced exclusionary nationalism as the fulfillment of democratic values. The fence "built with bones" created not just physical separation but a psychological barrier resistant to change.

4. Capitolo 4

   Survival Through Shape-Shifting

   In Myanmar's ethnic politics, identity became a survival mechanism rather than self-expression. Hla Hla's ethnically Mon family bribed officials to alter their ID cards when moving to Yangon, erasing her "half Muslim" father and Chinese Mon grandfather. She also transformed her appearance and behavior: "Me being dark. The way you dress, the way you hold yourself. You have to be a city girl." U Maung Soe, a Rohingya Muslim, joined the military by changing his identity twice - first to "Rakhine Muslim" at age 12, then "Rakhine Buddhist" at 22. He rose to captain despite his origins and even assisted the Na Sa Ka security force that oppressed his own people. These stories reveal how Myanmar's ethnic divisions contain a fundamental contradiction - identity is malleable, undermining nationalist claims of ethnic purity. The ease with which individuals crossed supposedly impermeable boundaries exposes the artificial nature of these categories. As U Maung Soe reflected, "In a democracy, all the diverse people can cooperate with each other. I proved it myself."

   Capitolo 5

   Engineering Hatred in Rakhine State

   The military's social engineering in Rakhine State created "model villages" populated by released Buddhist prisoners, homeless families, and southern Rakhine people-a calculated demographic correction against perceived Muslim population growth. In the mid-1990s, Buddhist inmates across Myanmar were offered early release for relocating to northern Rakhine. Those accepting were moved to newly built villages around Buthidaung, receiving houses, livestock, and monthly rations. Colonel Tha Kyaw's 1988 strategy document explicitly aimed "to strive for the increase in Buddhist population to be more than the number of Muslim people." These Na Ta La villages eventually deteriorated. When rations ended, settlers lacking farming skills struggled. Villages like Shwe Yin Aye devolved into communities plagued by alcoholism, gambling, and disease-desperate Buddhist footholds disconnected from their surroundings. By 2012, when violence erupted after Ma Thida Htwe's death, tensions had built through organized delegitimization of Rohingya claims. A magazine called Piccima Ratwan-whose editorial board included monks, police chiefs, and government administrators-portrayed Rohingya as terrorists and an existential threat. Government silence on this inflammatory coverage allowed fear to transform into violent action.

   Capitolo 6

   Democracy's Betrayal

   What shocked observers almost as much as the violence was the response from pro-democracy leaders. Ko Ko Gyi-who spent 17 years imprisoned opposing the junta-declared Rohingya "absolutely not an ethnic race of Burma" and suggested "democratic forces" might join the military to resolve this "national affair." Aung San Suu Kyi took an ambivalent stance, claiming "violence has been committed by both sides" while refusing to acknowledge the underlying racism. She avoided using the term "Rohingya" and evaded questions about their citizenship rights. The Rohingya had never featured in the pro-democracy movement's vision of Myanmar. By 2013, anti-Muslim sentiment had spread nationwide through the "969" movement and later the Organisation for Protection of Race, Religion, and Sasana (Ma Ba Tha). With millions of supporters, Ma Ba Tha pushed through discriminatory "Protection of Race and Religion Laws" despite NLD opposition. Those opposing Ma Ba Tha faced severe consequences. When women's rights campaigner May Sabe Phyu signed a statement against these laws, she received death threats, had her phone number posted on adult websites, and her children were threatened-intimidation worse than anything she'd experienced in years of campaigning against military abuses.

   Capitolo 7

   Glimpses of Light in the Darkness

   Despite widespread violence, pockets of coexistence persisted. In Buthidaung, where Muslims outnumber Buddhists, communities still interacted in teashops and markets. A dilapidated cinema showing Premier League matches became a rare space where Rohingya and Rakhine gathered as equals, religious divisions temporarily forgotten. Among those countering violence was Buddhist abbot U Witthuda who, during the 2013 Meikhtila violence, sheltered both Buddhist and Muslim refugees. When mobs demanded he surrender Muslims, he declared: "If you want to get them, you have to kill me first." Eventually, 940 people found refuge in his compound, initially separated but gradually sharing food and finding solidarity. Myanmar's tragedy reveals that democracy requires more than elections - it needs institutions protecting minority rights and leaders willing to challenge divisive narratives. Through figures like U Witthuda who stand against hatred, we glimpse an alternative Myanmar where diversity becomes strength rather than division. Moving forward means dismantling walls built in minds as much as on landscapes.

   Continua a leggere