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The Nation (9/8/99)



  <bold>Editorial & Opinion 



EDITORIAL: Checkpoint closure ends year-long folly

</bold>

THE closing of the Baan Son Ton Doo checkpoint did not come as a surprise
for most people who have been reading much about the numerous gunfights
along the Thai-Burmese border between Thai security forces and armed
groups of drug traffickers. Though the move was deemed appropriate by all
the government agencies who attended a recent meeting chaired by National
Security Council chief Khachadpai Burusapantana, the bottom line is that
the checkpoint should have never been opened in the first place. 


It was a year ago when the NSC approved a request from merchants and
provincial authorities in Chiang Mai that the checkpoint, linking Chiang
Mai's Mae Ai district to eastern part of Burma's Shan state, be opened.
The checkpoint would boost cross-border trade and the local economy, they
argued. Never mind that the area is a major stronghold of one of the
world's largest armed narcotic trafficking groups, the United Wa State
Army. 


The fact that no one objected to the opening suggested that the nation's
security agencies and the military, as well as the provincial authority,
lack the political will to carry out what is deemed an obvious preventive
measure. Indeed, both Khachadphai Burutpat and Jurin Laksanavisit,
ministers at the Prime Minister's Office in charge of narcotics control,
were dumb-struck when asked by reporters to justify the opening of the
checkpoint. 


Over the past decade, ever since UWSA expanded their operation from the
Chinese-Burmese border to the area adjacent to Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai,
reports after reports from independent media and Western governments have
consistently pointed to the area as being a haven for opium cultivation,
heroin production and methamphetamines labs. 


Millions of these so-called yaa baa or mad pills, have flooded the
country and fingers have always pointed to the Wa-controlled area. Even
the fugitive Surachai Nguen-tongfoo, or Bung Ron as he is widely known,
is believed to be taking refuge there. And since the surrender of Burmese
opium warlord Khun Sa and his Mong Tai Army, the UWSA has effectively
become the new king of the hill in the infamous Golden Triangle. 


Khachadphai, as well as other security agencies, admitted that the Wa
poses a much more complicated problem than Khun Sa did during his drug
reign. This is partly because the UWSA has had a cosy arrangement with
the military government of Burma under a ceasefire agreement orchestrated
in 1989 by Burma's powerful security chief Lt Gen Khin Nyunt. 


The group came into existence shortly after the Communist Party of Burma
crumbled a decade ago. A ceasefire agreement with the military government
was reached soon afterwards. The idea was to neutralise a 20,000-strong
army whose weapon inventory was huge enough to last them for the next 10
years. 


For the Wa, the deal provided an opportunity to expand their heroin
empire from their stronghold in Panghsang on the Chinese border to a new
frontier along the upper Thai-Burma border. Yet, Thai security agencies
chose to overlooked the fact and allowed a landlink to be establish to
these hotspots. Concessions were given out to seven export companies to
transport everything from household goods to construction materials to
the UWSA-controlled area through the Baan Son Ton Doo checkpoint. 


Today, thousands of Thais are working in and around Mong Yawn just 30
kilometres inside Burma from the controversial checkpoint. They are being
paid by heroin money to build everything from small-sized dams to
schools, as well as road projects, half of which is financed by the
Burmese government. 


Since the killing of nine Thai villagers in Chiang Mai's Fang district
last March, allegedly by Wa soldiers, efforts have been made to beef up
the security along the border to curb the flow of drugs coming into the
country. There has been talk of allowing Thai troops to cross the border
to go after traffickers in hot pursuit. 


But if the situation gets too hot, and the Wa gets too strong, the
thousands of Thai nationals currently working in the Wa-controlled area
could be in hot water. Clearly, the current situation could have been
prevented if the nation's security agencies and the military had employed
some degree of commonsense and foresight. 


The Nation

________________________________________ 


    <bold>Editorial & Opinion 



Muzzled media pursue goal

</bold>

What constitutes a free media is hotly debated by dissident Burmese
journalists, writes Win Htein. 


During the height of the Kosovo War, US-led Nato aircrafts bombed a Serb
television station in Belgrade, resulting in the deaths of 12 media
workers. Many journalists condemned this as an outrageous act. In
Bangkok, for example, a group of Thai journalists sent a protest letter
to the US Embassy. But their counterparts in the Burmese dissident
movement who work for the opposition radio, Democratic Voice of Burma
(DVB) in Oslo, Norway, supported Nato's targeting of the Serbian media. 


''We agreed with Nato because they (Serb media workers) are not real
journalists. They are just working as propagandists for the Serb
military, just as journalists in Burma do. Burmese journalists were
trained by the psychological warfare department of the Military
Intelligence Service [MIS],'' complained Aye Chan Naing, the chief editor
in DVB. 


But who qualify as real journalists? 


Maung Tha Ya, 69, the best-selling Burmese writer who recently fled to
the Thai-Burma border, recently made this comment on DVB: ''Real
journalists only focus on real facts, not just what is on paper. Realism
involves writing the truth, and not following the propaganda of the
authorities.'' 


Maung Tha Ya fled from his Rangoon home to Mae Sot -- a difficult
300-kilometre journey -- despite his age and having a history of heart
attacks. This is because he was ordered not to write any more articles. 


''Last month, the MIS officer on the censorship board gave me the final
warning. The permission for my own Tha-ya magazine had already been
withdrawn since 1989. As a professional writer, how can I live without
writing? If I delayed leaving home, I would have been arrested, like Win
Tin,'' he added. 


Win Tin is a prominent Burmese editor who has been in Insein prison since
1989 for joining Nobel laureate Aung San Suu Kyi's party. There are seven
journalists in the country's jails, and Burma is one of the world's most
repressive countries where journalists are concerned, according to a
report by Paris-based Reporters Sans Frontiers. 


''The country's media has collapsed. Everything is controlled by MIS.
There are just two areas to write on, either pop music and fashion or
propaganda for the MIS's own state-run media,'' explained Maung Tha Ya.
In recent months, the MIS has ordered that every journal must print an
article from them. If not, the journal will be denied permission to
continue publishing. 


Maung Tha Ya was also not allowed to accept invitations from Japan and
Thailand for journalism seminars. This is because the junta worries that
journalists would talk about the suppression of the media in Rangoon.
Moreover, salaries earned by journalists are extremely low, much like the
level of manual workers. A recent report in a Rangoon-based magazine
said: ''They (the publishers) give just 1000 kyat per article while a
meal is 200 kyat each. No journalists can live without a spare job''. 


Still, what constitutes a free media is very much hotly debated by
dissident Burmese journalists. One question is, a free media for whom? 


''We did not choose to report on our radio about disunity in opposition
groups. We only reported the military regime's weak points,'' lamented a
border-based reporter for DVB during a media training workshop. Some 15
young journalists were trained by Western professional media teachers at
the workshop, and the free-media debate was a focal point, pitting
Western journalists against their Burmese counterparts. 


Ko Aung Zaw, a Burmese exiled journalist who attended the training, said:
''We must report any news which is of interest to the people. I report
all news, even when I know it will have a bad side effect on
pro-democracy groups.'' Aung Zaw is one of the few Burmese journalists in
exile who decided not to join any political organisation. 


Another Burmese radio journalist from the BBC explained that the Burmese
on both sides do not understand the role of the media. He said: ''The
SPDC did not issue a visa to me because I have interviewed Gen Bo Mya in
Manaplaw. On the other hand, the border groups are suspicious of me
because I have interviewed Gen Khin Nyunt in Rangoon.'' 


There are more than a dozen publications in the border area and they have
to be smuggled into central Burma. It is clearly a risky business. Anyone
arrested with these papers in their possession will receive seven years
in jail. Radio journalists, however, are having a relatively easier time.
And their listeners in Burma are growing. 


A recent report in Dana, a business magazine in Rangoon, said: ''A
Chinese-made pocket-size shortwave radio has become the top-seller in
Rangoon markets, priced at 2,400 kyat.'' 


Apparently, the people's interest in foreign-based Burmese radio stations
is increasing as the ''9.9.99'' date draws closer. 


During the 8888 movement 11 years ago, BBC gave wide coverage to the
uprising. Today, there are two more broadcasting stations which support
the democracy movement -- the Oslo-based Democratic Voice of Burma, which
went on air in 1992, and the Washington-based Radio Free Asia, which
began its broadcast in 1997. 


Meanwhile, Khin Nyunt, the chief of the MIS and a powerful leader in the
ruling junta, lambasted the ''neo-colonialists'' and ''axe-holders'' who
work for foreign-based radio. They are now inciting people to protest on
Sept 9, he said. 


''They are just obeying their Western masterminds who want to destroy
this country like the former Yugoslavia,'' he added. Khin Nyunt has
alerted all officials to watch for any unrests come Sept 9. 


Is this the time for a battle of words on free media? No doubt, there is
a growing media campaign being fought by both sides -- the ruling junta
and the opposition. Will this be the skirmish that may precede the final
battle in Rangoon

___________________________________ 


  <bold>Editorial & Opinion 



Remembering the martyrs of 8888


</bold>Eleven years after the Aug 8, 1988, uprising in Burma, Moe Aye
discusses what the democracy movement has achieved and where it has
failed. 


Last year on June 24, rumours were afoot in Rangoon that the ghost of a
person killed during the 1988 pro-democracy uprising was terrorising an
apartment block. It was here that student protesters were gunned down by
the riot police. 


The rumours had led many people to brave heavy rain to gather outside the
apartment block in the hope of getting news about their relatives who had
died during the uprising. 


It is now 11 years since the popular uprising. Although it resulted in
the downfall of the then ruling party, those responsible for the shooting
of innocent people remain untouchable. They enjoy comfortable lives,
protected by the ruling military regime. 


Worse, Gen Tin Hla, who led and commanded the notorious military division
No 22 that systematically mowed down protesters, has become the minister
responsible for the military. Dictator Ne Win, who vowed that the army
would not shoot over the demonstrators' heads, and Sein Lwin, who was
known as the ''Butcher of Rangoon'', can still be seen playing golf or
travel abroad for medical treatment. 


Many people were killed during the uprising, and many disappeared. The
military regime claims, however, that only 15 people died. While people
around the world called the 1988 incident a ''nationwide popular
uprising'', the regime refers to it as ''nationwide anarchy'' created by
communists and neo-colonialists. 


Moe Thee Zun, a former prominent student who led the 8888 uprising, said:
''No only did the military junta refuse to accept the May 1990 election
result, it is reluctant to even recognise the popular uprising. There are
many families whose loved ones were killed, and they do not even know
where they are buried.'' 


A women whose son was killed at midnight on that fateful day, said: ''I
always wonder whether the soul of my son is still on the streets, and I
always pray that he may some day reach heaven. Although they [the
military] can forget about it, I will never forget my son. Every Aug 8, I
walk along the street in front of the City Hall where my son was killed.
The worst thing is that although I know my son was killed there, I never
saw his body.'' 


There are many parents with similar stories. 


But had the 8888 movement completely destroyed the system during the
uprising -- as happened in Romania -- or had the military joined the
demonstrators -- as in the Philippines -- it would have fulfilled the
people's desire. So far it is only a distant dream. 


The uprising did not establish a democratic country, which was one of its
prime objectives. However, it did pave the way for the people of Burma to
connect with the outside world. The uprising also led to the May 1990
multi-party elections and to the emergence of the first Burmese Nobel
peace laureate. But in achieving these, many people had paid with their
lives. Many are still in the jungles, and have died there. Many political
prisoners are still in prison, and some, too, have died there. 


The question remains as to why Burma cannot achieve even a semi-democracy
after these 11 years. Is it because the military regime is too clever at
cheating the world and in oppressing its people? Or the lack of unity of
the opposition? Perhaps the lack of international support or Asean's
constructive engagement policy? Maybe it is the strong support for the
regime by Japan and China, or that of Unocal and Total? 


The answer may be all of the above. One exiled student, who refused to be
named said: ''Someone may argue that 11 years is too short a time to
change the political system. But during these 11 years, many changes have
happened around the world.'' 


He may be right that there have been many changes around the world, but
the feelings of those whose loved ones were killed in the 8888 uprising
will never change. They are still suffering. 


----------------- 


Moe Aye is a journalist with the Democratic Voice of Burma radio 
station