by Ma Phyu Phyu

Almost five years after the coup that ended democracy, the military junta has called elections, despite ongoing conflict in some areas. Several international organisations and a large part of the civilian population consider the vote a sham. Meanwhile, people displaced by war and earthquake continue to try to build a future full of uncertainty.

Yangon (AsiaNews) - The elections to be held in Myanmar on 28 December, 11 January and in a third phase on 25 January, according to recent announcements, are considered a sham even within the country: ‘We already know the result.

The highest-ranking military officers have changed their uniforms to prepare to govern,’ comments a person who prefers to remain anonymous to avoid persecution by the military authorities.

‘Nothing will change politically,’ they added. The Burmese army, which seized power in a coup on 1 February 2021, paving the way for a brutal civil war, now controls only part of the territory, particularly the large cities in the interior, such as Yangon and Mandalay, where it seems possible to lead a normal life. In the former, for example, it is not uncommon to encounter groups of Russian tourists wandering around the area near the port, curiously photographing some of the oldest and most important pagodas in the Buddhist world.

In the latter, on the other hand, Chinese characters are increasingly visible due to the continuous influx of Chinese businessmen.

Moscow and Beijing are the main supporters and arms suppliers of General Min Aung Hlaing, who almost five years ago put an end to Myanmar's democratic interlude by arresting Aung San Suu Kyi, 80, Nobel Peace Prize winner, former head of government and leader of the National League for Democracy (NLD).

Even today, her health and detention conditions remain unknown, while her name has once again become unmentionable: the fear of spies seeking easy rewards from the regime is always around the corner.

The elections ten years ago, when the “Lady” was elected for the first time thanks to record turnout, are now a painful memory for many Burmese: “Immediately after the coup, doctors and teachers left their jobs in protest, joining what was called the Civil Disobedience Movement,” explains a foreign aid worker who arrived in Yangon in 2020.

The demonstrations were peaceful, everyone took to the streets to protest, and in the evening it became customary to lean out of the window for an hour and bang pots and pans to make noise.

Then the military crackdown silenced the opposition: the barricades were moved from the main roads to the side streets, and soldiers began entering the homes of demonstrators at night, making the young people disappear. At that point, fear and resignation prevailed in the city.

Unlike Yangon, the precariousness in Mandalay is more palpable due to the presence of camps for displaced persons and buildings that are unsafe or have completely collapsed following the 7.7 magnitude earthquake that devastated entire regions of the country on 28 March this year.

‘The current government has done almost nothing for the population. Only the wealthiest families have been able to rebuild their homes,’ explains the aid worker.

The local authorities recognise six official camps, although the use of the word “displaced” has been banned. The United Nations estimates that there are almost 4 million internally displaced persons, most of whom belong to ethnic minority groups and are fleeing areas of active combat located along the borders with other countries.

Many of them have been displaced several times in their lives because ethnic militias have been fighting the central government for greater autonomy since Myanmar gained independence from the United Kingdom in 1948.

Today, the Irrawaddy River separates the city of Mandalay from the war. Crossing the river takes you to the Sagaing region, where the Burmese army is engaged in fighting against the People's Defence Forces (PDF), which was created as the armed wing of the National Unity Government (NUG) composed of former NLD deputies in exile.

Supplies of petrol, food and medical equipment in this area are reduced because they could end up in the hands of the PDF: “Even sanitary pads are being withdrawn by the military because they could be used to staunch the gunshot wounds of combatants,” says a 32-year-old from Mandalay who is project manager for a small local NGO.

‘After working for a long time as a foreign trade representative, in 2021 I felt the need to do more for my country, so I switched to cooperation,’ the young man continues. Two of my friends died at the beginning of the conflict and almost all the others are “in the forest”, meaning they have joined the resistance.

In the camps for displaced persons in Mandalay, as in most areas of the country under junta control, you only see women, children, teenagers or the elderly: almost all men between the ages of 18 and 45 are either abroad or fighting for one side or the other. Due to the heavy losses suffered in recent years, the army imposed compulsory conscription on men and women in February 2024, recruiting all those who were not already involved in the fighting.

A Rohingya woman, displaced after losing her home in the earthquake, begins to recount her tragedies since the Covid-19 pandemic, like most Burmese: ‘I was a tour guide with my husband, but we lost our jobs. Then came the coup and, in recent months, the earthquake, in which I lost my sister-in-law and niece. Now my husband teaches English to displaced children who have not been to school for five years. Even though we have lost everything, we hope for a better future, inshallah! God willing.’

The Rohingya are a stateless ethnic minority, mostly Muslim, concentrated in the western state of Rakhine, one of the regions where the clashes are most violent. In the rest of the country, however, they are referred to as ‘Bengalis’, a derogatory term to emphasise that they do not belong to Myanmar.

Suffering is the common trait that unites the entire population of the former Burma: ‘Myanmar is a wonderful country, but it is not associated with happiness,’ comments a doctor who has been working in Taunggyi, the capital of the northern Shan State, since 2018.

In the city of the “great mountain” (the meaning of the name in Burmese), the refugees come mainly from Loikaw, Demoso and Pekhon, predominantly Christian regions targeted during the very early stages of the civil war. Those who fled the northern city of Lashio returned home after ethnic militias, under pressure from China, handed over their headquarters to the army.

‘At first, I thought it was persecution of Christians,’ says a university professor who joined the civil disobedience movement and still stands by her choice, even though it means her family has been blacklisted by the army: ‘Then I realised that they are targeting everyone: Buddhists and minorities alike.’

The conflict is not religious, but divides those who support the dictatorship and those who would like a democratic system. Among the very young soldiers guarding the checkpoints in flip-flops along the road from Mandalay to Taunggyi, some can be seen with crosses tattooed on their necks.

However, many Burmese feel abandoned even by the National Unity Government (NUG): ‘Everyone wants an end to the war,’ the doctor continues, ‘but the army is threatening those who do not intend to vote, while the NUG has called for a boycott of the elections.’

The most difficult position is that of those who decide not to take sides and who inhabit ‘the space of humanity,’ as a foreign diplomat based in Yangon has defined it.

Those who do not yet know whether to vote are suffering in particular, and for now prefer to continue studying for when the time comes to rebuild the country. ‘During the 1988 protests, my brother joined the uprisings against the military regime of the time,’ reveals a 50-year-old Christian woman from Loikaw, where her house was burned down by the army.

Many faithful have tried to return in recent months, but they proceed with caution because of the mines scattered in the surrounding fields by soldiers. ‘My family suffered too much as a result of that experience, and today we have learned our lesson: my three children are all at university to secure a better future, whatever that may be.’