How COVID-19 Disrupts Myanmar’s Fragile Status Quo

A new hand-washing station at a bus stop in Myanmar. Photo by Lionslayer, a Wikimedia user associated with the OpenMyanmar photo project.

COVID-19 has exposed Myanmar’s fault lines. As a humanitarian crisis, it threatens millions of already embattled minorities who do not have access to basic amenities. As a political contest, it exposes the fissions between Myanmar’s civilian government and the military junta. As a geopolitical gambit, Myanmar’s neighbours have used the COVID-19 crisis as an opportunity to offer much-needed aid in exchange for geopolitical influence. These centrifugal forces threaten to rekindle dormant tensions and unravel Myanmar’s modicum of democratic progress. 

The humanitarian chaos into which Myanmar has been thrown is in many ways a product of a dysfunctional political system. Though Aung San Suu Kyi is the state counsellor and not the president of Myanmar, she holds the de facto power in the country. Win Myint, the incumbent president and National League for Democracy (N.L.D.) member, is largely acknowledged to be a figurehead. The reasons for this are complicated: Suu Kyi has two sons who are British citizens, and Suu Kyi herself has no military experience. These facts constitutionally prevent her from holding the presidency. 

Constitutional change is close to impossible: Suu Kyi’s party, the N.L.D., would need more than 75 percent of the vote. This is impossible given the constitutionally-protected reservation of 25 percent of seats for the junta. 

But that’s not all. Like a matryoshka doll, Suu Kyi is in large part a figurehead herself, a prop of the military apparatus that wields significant political power in Myanmar. Despite the country’s seeming democratization, the junta continues to hold the substantial political power it has held since a 1962 military coup. The military also controls defense, the border, and home affairs, and operates independently from the civilian government. 

Suu Kyi’s government unsurprisingly refuses to renew ceasefires with rebel groups, declaring them “unrealistic.” Once the darling of human rights activists, the events of late have cemented her reputation as a “fallen angel.” Under her stewardship, trust and goodwill between the Myanmarese establishment and minority groups are now at a new low: The government has not only violated the 2015 ceasefire agreement, but its political paralysis has eroded what little legitimacy it had. 

Aung San Suu Kyi giving a speech in Yangon in 2012. Photo by Adam Nybäck.

Distrust between Myanmar’s government and minorities dates back to General Ne Win’s coup d’état in 1962, and the instatement of his regime’s oppressive policies. For years, the Myanmarese government has oppressed its 135 official minority groups that make up more than 30% of its population. Directly and indirectly, this oppression led to countless uprisings, with at least 10 active insurgencies as of 2020. The government has promoted the idea of Burmese ethnic superiority and portrayed other ethnic groups, particularly the “Bengali” Rohingya, as illegal immigrants that must leave Myanmar. The Kachin people, predominantly Christian, routinely have their statues and churches torn down and replaced with Buddhist ones. 

Additionally, the struggle between the Myanmarese government and minorities is economically motivated. Ethnic states along the border between Myanmar, China and Thailand, tend to be rich in natural resources such as jade, timber, rubber, and even opium poppies—if opium can be deemed a natural resource. Both the Myanmarese government and rebel groups have, either directly or indirectly, relied on revenue generated from the control of land and sale of resources to finance their operations. Most recently, the 2018 amendment to the Vacant, Fallow and Virgin (V.F.V.) Land Management Law that predominantly covers areas where ethnic minorities live, requires individuals to obtain a permit to use their own land. Ethnic minorities unaware of this amendment have been systematically charged with trespassing in their own ancestral land and booted out with the force of law.

Given Myanmar’s political conditions, the potential human cost of the pandemic must not be understated. Since April 2020, international organisations like the International Rescue Committee have practically begged groups engaged in civil conflict globally to lay down arms. The I.R.C. worryingly predicts as many as 1 billion COVID-19 cases in war-torn areas.  

Myanmar is in no way ready for the pandemic. Myanmar’s poor healthcare infrastructure consists of an estimated 16.32 doctors and 19.97 registered nurses per 1,000 people, and there are only about 200 ventilators in the entire country. Given that Myanmar has a history of denying healthcare to minorities, minorities will undoubtedly be even worse off in the pandemic. 

According to the Ministry of Health and Sports (M.O.H.S.), as of July 1st, 2020, Myanmar has tested 76,315 people. Of these, 299 have tested positive and six have succumbed to the virus. With a case fatality rate of approximately 2%, COVID-19 appears to be controlled in Myanmar. However, this comforting statistic obscures the fact that testing has been notably low. With a population of 53.71 million, Myanmar has only tested 1.42 in 1000 people, whereas the US has tested 93.62 in 1000 people. 

To the government’s credit, it has recently ramped up testing with the opening of the fourth testing site in Mawlamyine and the fifth in Taunggyi in June and July respectively. But it may not be enough, for only time will tell if there’s an untracked reservoir of COVID-19 cases in Myanmar. With the approach of the monsoon season, other public health challenges like dengue, influenza, and malaria will further strain the health and disaster response system. 

The aggravated risks that political infighting and inequality pose are clear. Even as Myanmar scrambles to increase its testing capacity, efforts by the Tatmadaw—the armed forces—and the government have seemed uncoordinated. On the one hand, Health Minister Myint Htwe said on May 4th that he had asked the Tatmadaw for assistance in ramping up testing. But on May 26th, Major-General Tun Tun Nyi contradicted the government line by stating that the Tatmadaw had indeed offered to help with testing, but instead that the government had not taken up the Tatmadaw’s offer.

The government has allegedly refused to ask the Tatmadaw for permission to use their Cobas and RT-PCR machines that are indispensable for COVID-19 testing, stating that the government has managed to achieve an adequate testing capacity. The government’s current 10% testing estimate further obscures the current difficulty of getting tested outside of the country’s largest cities, Yangon and Mandalay. Moreover, given that the number of swab kits in ethnic minority states and the protocol of shipping kits to Yangon and Mandalay remain unknown, it’s feared that COVID-19 cases in minority communities have been particularly underreported. 

As always, the Myanmarese government is attempting to project an image of efficiency to counterbalance what it deems as Western-biased negative reporting. As onlookers, we must remain skeptical of official statistics and reports.  

Against this manicured backdrop, we must remember how concerning Myanmar’s initial ethnic nationalist response was. In March 2020, various public figures gave explanations for why Myanmar was “spared,” and preemptively declared the country to be exceptional and free of COVID-19. The chief of the North Okkalapa General Hospital in Yangon, a major medical center in the country, implied that Myanmar’s Buddhist practices protect the Burmese from COVID-19. A few monks allegedly promoted consuming lime, palm seeds, and peppercorns to ward off the virus; meanwhile, a government spokesman attributed Myanmar’s success on March 13th to the “lifestyle and diet” of the Myanmarese. 

Now, having officially confirmed six deaths, the tone among government and military circles has shifted. The Myanmarese government has published M.O.H.S. documents in Burmese and minority languages that remind the Myanmarese to practice social distancing and wash their hands regularly. However, Than Naing Soe, a government official, stated that the M.O.H.S. still does not need to coordinate testing efforts with the Tatmadaw because it can now test 2000 people a day. Doctors are skeptical if the government’s efforts have been sufficient. Dr. Daw Htay Tin, Director-General of the National Health Laboratory, publicly stated that Myanmar can only test 10% of those quarantined. To compensate for this, the M.O.H.S. announced the creation of “fever clinics” to isolate patients with a fever in an attempt to isolate undetected COVID-19 cases. This policy raises concerns about the feasibility of safe distancing at such clinics.

The risks the pandemic poses to the Myanmarese are not just humanitarian, but also political. For years, the military junta ruled Myanmar with an iron fist, suppressing the civilian government until the watershed elections of 2010. Already, the military junta and the civilian government have failed to coordinate COVID-19 strategies. If conditions persist, the junta may exploit the need for lockdowns as an excuse to reassert control, potentially derailing a decade of democratic progress. 

A sign outside of the Mandalay Palace, the seat of the former Burmese kingdom, in 2014. Photo by Adam Jones.

Since 1989, the Myanmarese government has signed more than 30 fragile ceasefire agreements with a multitude of ethnic armed organizations (E.A.O.s). Most recently, in 2015, the Tatmadaw signed a ceasefire with the “Northern Alliance,” a coalition of E.A.O.s including the Arakan Liberation Party, Chin National Front, and Karen National Union. However, largely because of the historic dominance of the Tatmadaw in Myanmar, government policies rarely translate into military ones. This does not only make it difficult for Aung San Suu Kyi’s government to effect change in conflict regions; it also further entrenches ethnic groups’ distrust of the government.

The Myanmarese government’s failure to disseminate international aid equitably further stokes resentment and distrust among minorities. On April 20, the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund approved US$50 million and US$700 million respectively in lines of credit to bolster Myanmar’s COVID-19 response. Thus far, Myanmar has allocated a meager US$17 million for measures to prevent infections in camps housing roughly 274,000 displaced people. Instead, the government overwhelmingly concentrated Myanmar’s budget on boosting the minimal intensive care capacity in Yangon. 

To a certain extent, this decision is understandable. After all, Yangon is by far Myanmar’s most populous city and is the epicenter of the outbreak. However, given that minority ethnic states officially have 60 active COVID-19 cases, or approximately 20% of cases as of July 1st, the proportions of Myanmar’s COVID-19 spending allocations are difficult to justify. Underfunded and under-equipped, these regions have relied on donations and aid from neighboring countries and international organizations to boost their healthcare infrastructure and testing capacity.

While the Myanmarese government has extended a modicum of support to minority groups, these measures have been largely superficial. Since June 2019, the Myanmarese government has restricted mobile internet communications in Rakhine and Chin states, affecting approximately 1 million people. While some reports suggest that the mobile internet ban may have been lifted in the Rakhine township of Maungdaw, these violations of international human rights law are simply dangerous during a pandemic. How are Rohingya people going to access M.O.H.S. documents in the Rohingya language if they do not have access to the internet? These contradictory policies further point to the government’s insincerity.

Internally displaced people have been deliberately impeded from receiving healthcare. Before the pandemic, only 16 percent of Rohingyas in camps received medical care. This devastating statistic has been further worsened by the pandemic as officials now have cause to further restrict the Rohingyas’ movement. According to a May 2020 Human Rights Watch report, Rohingyas need permission to leave camps for medical reasons, even if cases are urgent.

Moreover, according to the same report, internally displaced Rohingyas are now not allowed to cross Sittwe checkpoints without a mask and are fined and punished for not wearing one—even though the authorities have not adequately distributed masks. Rohingyas who fail to wear a mask are also fined US$14—an unnecessarily exorbitant amount, given that internally displaced people receive US$11 per month from the U.N. World Food Program. 

Police guard a checkpoint at the border of a closed-off Rohingya area in Sittwe in 2014. Photo by Adam Jones.

Because of Myanmar’s low infection and fatality rates at the moment, the government has yet to enforce strict measures like lockdowns to mitigate community spread. However, if COVID-19 cases do rise, the government may have to call in the Tatmadaw to enforce lockdowns, which will inevitably come at the cost of human rights and civil liberties.

The Tatmadaw’s continued atrocities against minorities are appalling. Minorities, even those who are citizens, are routinely arrested and harassed for their alleged affiliation with armed groups. For example, on April 13th, 2020, the Tatmadaw arrested 38 villagers and an administrator on account of a suspicion that they were affiliated with the Arakan Army. Similarly, on the weekend of March 16th, 2020, 21 villagers were reportedly killed and over 24 were wounded when Tatmadaw fighter jets opened fire on civilians in Chin state.

Calling in the Tatmadaw as part of Myanmar’s COVID-19 response, then, will be potentially disastrous. Already, its autonomy from the civilian government allows it to neglect government directives. It is unsurprising, then, that despite these de jure ceasefires, the Tatmadaw has continued to displace and order airstrikes on villagers in Rakhine, Chin, Kachin, and Shan state, even during and after April 2020, making these regions de facto conflict zones. According to another report by the Human Rights Watch in March 2020, Tatmadaw forces have burned down COVID-19 medical infrastructure, arrested civilians who sought assistance from ethnic groups, and attacked the medical arms of E.A.O.s. These actions contravened both international legal principles and Chapter 6 of the National Ceasefire Agreement signed in 2015. 

Thus far, in line with appeals from United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres,  E.A.O.s have held off on military reprisals and have instead called for a renewed ceasefire. E.A.O.s may retaliate to defend their populations if the Tatmadaw’s military actions continue.

The forcible entrance of Tatmadaw forces into ethnic minority states will undoubtedly raise tensions, and any act of aggression—perceived or real—by either the Tatmadaw or the E.A.O.s can possibly trigger the resumption of fighting.

Against the backdrop of domestic chaos, Myanmar’s opportunistic neighbors, India and China, have used the pandemic to further their geopolitical agendas. Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s “Neighborhood First” and “Act East” policies have seen India making forays into Myanmarese politics. Modi’s primary concern? The 40,000 Rohingya refugees in India and the more than 700,000 refugees in neighboring Bangladesh. Modi’s Myanmar policy has also been heavily influenced by a desire to counterbalance Chinese economic and political influence in the country. By offering COVID-19 aid to Myanmar, India hopes to gain a stake in negotiations for the proposed Bangladesh-China-India-Myanmar corridor (B.C.I.M.). 

Meanwhile, China’s rapid expansion of its Belt and Road Initiative (B.R.I.) into Myanmar, especially in Kachin state, which neighbors China, makes China the most important foreign stakeholder in Myanmar. China’s grand strategy is unclear. However, as China’s oldest ally since the Maoist revolution, Myanmar, like most other Southeast Asian countries, looks to China with a mixture of cordiality, indignation, and deference. China provides the Myanmarese government diplomatic cover from the  “internationalization” of Myanmar’s various ethnic conflicts, by blocking Western-led U.N. resolutions against Myanmar. In return, the Myanmarese government gives the green light for various infrastructure projects. Additionally, China’s support of various E.A.O.s such as the United Wa State Army has hamstrung the progress of peace talks. 

China’s attempts to expand the B.R.I. in Myanmar adds tension to an already unstable order. China’s Machiavellian strategy involves “siding” with the government or ethnic minorities against the other to gain compliance. In different states, China picks the “easier” target to influence. By pitting the government against minority leaders financially, China has stoked some economic resentment. With the “price” for Myanmarese compliance at an all-time low, China may see COVID-19 as an opportunity to smooth over bumps in its negotiations.

Perceptions of Chinese influence and investment vary amongst Myanmar’s ethnic groups. The Karen people in the south of Myanmar have a considerably more strained relationship with Chinese investors, for example, as projects in the region neither sought free and prior consent from the Karen authorities, nor do they benefit the Karens economically or politically. 

United Wa State Army soldiers in 2017. Photo by Steve Sandford.

The Chinese have also unnecessarily sustained conflicts when it has suited their interests. The Wa, who speak Mandarin and trade in Renminbi, have received direct and substantial support from China to maintain its 30,000-strong army. China neither actively fosters nor blocks attempts at brokering peace between the Wa and the government. The United Wa State Army’s (U.W.S.A.) dependence and deference to the Chinese is palpable. In April 2015, the U.W.S.A. declared its intention to withdraw from ceasefire negotiations and insisted on the replacement of negotiations with a Chinese-led process. Beijing, however, insisted in turn that it would no longer commit to funding the U.W.S.A., arguably in an attempt to maintain a semblance of neutrality. However, a full withdrawal of Chinese support is undesirable for all stakeholders as it would trigger a splintering of rebel groups in Shan state.

China’s active stance on the Rohingya crisis stems from its perceived geopolitical gain. China has outlined a three-phase proposal that involves a ceasefire, strengthened bilateral relations between Myanmar and Bangladesh, and unsurprisingly, a plan for economic development in the region. While China’s donation of approximately US$150,000 to Myanmar's Ministry of Social Welfare, Relief and Resettlement for Rakhine State was undoubtedly much needed, it is unclear if China’s support is altruistic. Like in many other parts of Myanmar, China has significant B.R.I. economic commitments in Rakhine state, including a Chinese state-owned firm with a 70% stake in US$7.3 billion deep-sea port and a US$2.7 billion special economic zone.

China’s policy in Rakhine state should be understood in conjunction with its strategy in South Asia, and its desire to “outcompete” India to gain a foothold in Myanmar and an upper-hand in the future B.C.I.M. negotiations. In response, India has committed more than US$25 million of development assistance over 5 years for the development of the Rakhine state, and the return of Rohingya refugees to Myanmar. 

Overall, both China and India are generally apathetic to the humanitarian crisis in Myanmar unless E.A.O. actions directly affect their border security, or if there is potential geopolitical gain in getting involved. A genuine sustained peace would weaken China’s influence over both the Myanmarese government and ethnic nationalities, diminishing its ability to “play both sides” of the conflict. However, Chinese involvement is not necessarily always a bad thing. China played an indispensable role in hosting informal talks with Northern Alliance groups in 2015, and in engaging in dialogues with the Myanmar Defense Ministry on border security.

China’s grand plan is already in action. It has combined its leverage over E.A.O.s and Myanmar’s COVID-19-related needs to pressure Naypyidaw to agree to the construction of the B.C.I.M. economic corridor, on top of 33 other cooperative economic agreements, in March 2020. While the B.C.I.M. and cooperative agreements are not harmful per se, this trend of fast-tracking agreements worth billions of dollars of infrastructure further ups the ante on competition for resources. Without specific delimitations, Myanmar risks further resource-motivated conflict. China also leveraged its position in March to push for the resumption of construction of the US$3.6 billion Myitsone Dam, which was suspended in 2011 over opposition from the Kachins due to environmental and social concerns. Chinese success on the issue of the Myitsone Dam may trigger fighting between the Tatmadaw and the Kachins. 

From a consequentialist point of view, some may argue that we should judge China’s and India’s COVID-19 assistance in and of themselves. However, we must remember that neither country made sufficient attempts to engender peace in Myanmar. Providing aid per se may be ethical, but these powers are cognizant of the inefficiencies of Myanmar’s political machine, and they know that the probability of an equitable dissemination of the resources is extremely slim. More importantly, we must remember that China has used its influence to exclude the international community from checking Myanmar’s oppressive tendencies and to sustain conflicts for its own geopolitical gain.  

In all these respects, the Myanmarese case looks dire in the face of the pandemic. Multiple stakeholders, from Myanmar’s civilian government, to the Tatmadaw, to China, have all been complicit in creating this quagmire. In the short or medium term, the Myanmarese establishment is unlikely to have the means or willingness to equitably distribute a vaccine when one becomes available. In the long term, after the COVID-19 pandemic has ended, relations between the ethnic majority and minorities will be even more strained, and China will have an even stronger grasp on Myanmar. 

It is unlikely that any one stakeholder can single-handedly engineer a lasting solution. Internally, Myanmar desperately needs a renewed social contract: one that recognizes that true democratic progress cannot be achieved until the establishment includes minorities in the political process. Externally, China needs to be accountable for its direct and indirect exacerbation of the ethnic conflicts. The international community’s usual first-aid kit is unsuitable: the ethnic majority holds too much power in Myanmar for Lebanese-style consociationalism to work; Myanmar’s geographical location at China’s southern border and the U.S.’s increasing isolationism renders any possibility of humanitarian intervention close to none. Instead of these blunt instruments, the international community must deploy diplomatic scalpels. For example, there are at least eight countries who have been either proven or suspected to have armed the Tatmadaw through government-linked entities or private firms. Moving forward, a realistic first step is to pressure countries like Singapore and the Philippines to investigate and de-list potentially nefarious private entities. Moreover, all countries must develop robust export restrictions to detect and deter future violations. Unless new measures are implemented, Myanmar’s political machine will continue to oppress its minorities. The circumstances caused by the pandemic have only accelerated that process.

Bernadette Gostelow is from Singapore and a rising senior in the School of General Studies studying Political Science. She’s passionate about Southeast Asian politics and identities. If she’s allowed back in the United States, you can catch her shirking her readings and hunting for the best pizza places in New York City. Connect with her at bpg2126@columbia.edu about anything, from the latest Netflix show you’ve been watching to your views on U.S.-China relations.

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