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Burma's Iron
'Aunty'
Aung San Suu Kyi's Steely
Will Keeps a Country's Hopes Alive
By Ellen Nakashima Washington Post Foreign Service, BANGKOK - October
13, 2003
Aunty,
run! Run!
The horrified
young bodyguards screamed for the slender woman they were escorting
through the Burmese night to make a break for it. Hundreds of angry
assailants were swarming her motorcade of democracy activists, smashing
her truck's window and jabbing sharpened bamboo sticks inside. But
the beloved leader of Burma's democracy movement -- Aung San Suu Kyi,
affectionately called "Aunty" -- refused to budge that day,
May 30, on what has become known as Black Friday.
The mob,
recruited by Burma's military regime, dragged off Suu Kyi's elderly
deputy. They jerked women out of the trucks, stripping several naked
and bashing one's head on the road. Scores of activists, maybe more
than 100, were killed or injured.
"They
are killing our mother!" the activists shouted, referring again
to Suu Kyi.
"She
refused to run," recalls Wunna Maung, a 26-year-old bodyguard.
Her driver finally floored the gas pedal and rocketed them out of
the fray.
But Suu
Kyi was captured less than two miles away. For almost four months,
she was held incommunicado in an undisclosed location. She was returned
home Sept. 26, to house arrest yet again -- she has spent almost eight
of the last 14 years detained.
The international
community demands her freedom. The United States has imposed economic
sanctions on Burma. This petite, fragile-looking 58-year-old woman
with blossoms woven in her hair, a "prettier version of Mahatma
Gandhi," one friend calls her, has become the sole repository
for the Burmese people's hopes.
She chose
this burden, this unimaginable weight. She once had a comfortable
intellectual life in Europe, but a remarkable confluence of events,
of people, led her back to a harder path.
A Name
and a Destiny
Perhaps
he knew it would make a difference. In Burma, where parents almost
never name their children after themselves, Gen. Aung San, the country's
founding father, broke with all tradition. Not only did he name his
first two sons after himself, Aung San Oo and Aung San Lin, he gave
his name to his only daughter. Aung San is a muscular name, one that
means victory.
To add
softness and balance, he drew from his mother's name, Suu, and from
his wife's name, Kyi. Strung together like pearls, the name, Aung
San Suu Kyi (pronounced "Ong Sahn Soo Chee"), is an unusual
name, meaning a bright collection of strange victories.
The child
was aware of the weight of her name, even a bit embarrassed by its
length and masculine sound. But as she grew, she would become ever
more aware of the power of her name, and the destiny it carried.
There is
a striking reverse symmetry in the lives of the father and the daughter.
The youngest of six children, Gen. Aung San was born of rural gentry,
and though late to speak and with an awkward, even prickly, personality,
he grew into a student leader and committed nationalist. Even as a
child, he dreamed of driving the British out of his country, colonized
in the 19th century. He would go on to form the Burma Independence
Army, to become one of the legendary Thirty Comrades trained secretly
by the Japanese. They reentered Burma with the Japanese invasion to
oust the British in early 1942, then turned around in March 1945 and
helped the British end Japanese occupation.
But this
grand hero's service to the Burmese people was cut sorrowfully short:
A jealous rival had him gunned down in 1947 -- just six months before
Burma declared its independence. He was only 32. Suu Kyi was 2.
As she
grew, the daughter, whose brisk gestures, direct speech and bright
eyes made her a "female replica" of the general, would become
obsessed with knowing more about the father she had lost. When she
was a young mother, living in Oxford, England, she'd occasionally
meet former British colonials who had served in Burma at the end of
the war.
Did they
know Gen. Aung San? What was he like? What did he look like? "One
of them said, 'He did look a little like Yul Brynner,' which she liked
quite a lot," recalled Peter Carey, a close friend and a Southeast
Asia historian at Oxford. "I think she always had this incredible
sort of daughter's hero worship for her father, considering the father
he was."
As fate
would have it, she would pick up where he left off decades later,
when she was 43, forming a party, the National League for Democracy,
with two of his former comrades in arms.
During
her long, often lonely struggle, she has said, "I always think,
'I may be alone, but I know I have your backing.' "
A Time
of Uncertainty
Though
she would have preferred literature or forestry, Suu Kyi was accepted
into a program of philosophy, politics and economics at St. Hugh's
College in Oxford. It was the mid-'60s. In Burma, a military coup
had just begun an era of repressive rule. On the British campus, wearing
the traditional Burmese lungi, or sarong, Suu Kyi stood out for her
exotic beauty and her unwavering morals. She once told amused college
mates that she would never sleep with anyone except her husband, preferring
to "just go to bed hugging my pillow," recalled former classmate
Ann Pasternak Slater.
"Oh,
you must come and see this remarkable Burmese woman at St. Hugh's!"
Anthony Aris exclaimed to his twin brother, Michael Aris, a Tibetan
scholar at the University of Durham in northern England.
Michael
was smitten, but Suu Kyi had "no ideas about being taken by anybody
at that time," recalled Ma Than E, a family friend whom Suu Kyi
likes to call her "emergency aunt."
After college
and a spell in London, Suu Kyi moved to New York in 1969 to work at
the United Nations as staff for an advisory budget committee. She
shared a 17th-floor sublet overlooking the East River with Ma Than
E, who worked at the U.N. Secretariat.
It was
then that Michael Aris's courtship began in earnest, by correspondence.
He was by now in Bhutan, serving as tutor to the royal family. He
wanted to marry her. Suu Kyi wrote him 187 letters, at times expressing
a worry that her family and country might misconstrue their marriage
as a weakening of her bond to them. She made clear that one day she
might have to return to Burma.
"I
only ask one thing," she wrote in one letter, "that should
my people need me, you would help me to do my duty by them."
He promised
he would support her, should she be called to serve. They married
at a mutual friend's London home on New Year's Day 1972. After a time
in Bhutan, they returned to England. Two sons followed: Alexander
and Kim, named after the hero of the Kipling tale.
The family
moved to Oxford when Michael became a research fellow at St. John's
College. As her sons grew, she began to devote more time to her own
passion, Asian literature. But a deep curiosity about her roots grew,
turning into a focused effort to research her father and her country's
history. She decided to write a biography of her father. In 1985,
she spent a year in Kyoto, and in 1987, a year in New Delhi, doing
research.
As Carey
saw it, she was in search of a role. Michael was a dedicated scholar
of Tibet. "She hadn't yet found her true calling," Carey
said. "It was a time of uncertainty."
She wanted
a higher level of achievement for both herself and her husband, recalled
Pasternak Slater. "I think that created a certain amount of anxiety
in her," said Pasternak Slater. "There was a restlessness
in her life."
One thing
not on her mind, at least overtly, was a career in Burmese politics.
Fate intervened
on March 31, 1988, with a phone call from Rangoon to Oxford. Her mother,
Daw Khin Kyi, had suffered a severe stroke. Suu Kyi put the phone
down and began to pack. "I had a premonition," Michael wrote
in the introduction to a collection of essays
about his wife, "that our lives would change forever."
A Life-Changing Speech
By the
time she arrived in Rangoon, there was already an electricity in the
air. The students had taken to the streets, and in one incident, 41
wounded students suffocated in a police van.
Michael
and the boys joined Suu Kyi that summer at her mother's home, a weathered
villa on Inya Lake. The family sat transfixed before the television
on July 23. Gen. Ne Win announced that he was resigning and that a
referendum on the country's political future would be held. Suu Kyi,
like the country, was elated. Here, at last, was the people's chance
to take control of their destiny.
"I
think it was at this moment more than any other that Suu made up her
mind to step forward," Michael wrote in the introduction to "Freedom
from Fear."
At 8:08
a.m. on Aug. 8, 1988 -- known as the "Four Eights," or 8/8/88,
a date the Burmese had chosen for its numerological significance --
a nationwide pro-democracy strike was called. Hundreds of thousands
of students, civil servants and monks poured into the streets, ecstatic
with the prospect of an end to one-party rule. Around midnight, President
Sein Lwin ordered troops to fire.
In the
aftermath, Suu Kyi wrote an open letter to the government, proposing
a committee be formed to take the country toward multiparty elections.
Then she wrote a speech that was to propel her onto the political
stage.
By midday
on Aug. 26, a sea of people had flooded the slope beneath the Shwedagon
Pagoda, whose golden cup and spire tower over Rangoon. Suu Kyi stood
on a stage at the pagoda's base. People climbed trees to snatch a
glimpse of Aung San's daughter.
Despite
rumors of an assassination attempt, she refused to wear a bulletproof
vest. Fellow activist Nyo Ohn Myint drove Michael to the pagoda. It
would be the first time his wife would give such a public speech.
"Revered
monks and people! This public rally is aimed at informing the whole
world of the will of the people," she began. ". . . Our
purpose is to show that the entire people entertain the keenest desire
for a multiparty democratic system of government."
She called
the national crisis, in the speech's most memorable phrase, "the
second struggle for national independence." The crowd, 100,000
strong, roared.
Amid the
jubilation, Nyo Ohn Myint noticed Michael, standing to the side. He
was clearly proud, but he also wore a look, the activist recalled,
"kind of like, I'm going to lose my wife and my privacy and my
family." On the drive back, people in the car were "amazed,
excited." Michael was silent, lost in thought.
The army
cracked down again, killing thousands. On Sept. 18, martial law was
declared. The ruling military junta named itself the State Law and
Order Restoration Council, which birthed the beast-evoking acronym
SLORC (in 1997, on the advice of a public relations firm, it would
rename itself the State Peace and Development Council, or SPDC).
The democracy
activists formed their party, the National League for Democracy. Suu
Kyi became general secretary and U Tin Oo -- the elderly deputy --
eventually chairman. They began to campaign for the promised national
elections.
Suu Kyi's
mother died that December. She was 75. More than 100,000 people watched
her funeral procession. Suu Kyi, who had learned stoicism and strict
control over emotions from her, soldiered on.
In April
1989, Suu Kyi and a group of NLD activists set off on a campaign trip
along the Irrawaddy River, stopping at villages along the way. On
the second day, they alighted from their boat and began the short
walk to the party office in the town of Danubyu.
Suddenly,
soldiers blocked their way. Kneeling, six or seven soldiers pointed
automatic rifles at them: Stop!
"Keep
moving," Suu Kyi told her group, recalled Nyo Ohn Myint. He tried
to get in front of Suu Kyi to protect her. "No," she said,
holding him back. "You don't need to. It makes them more nervous."
Calmly,
the 5-foot-3 Suu Kyi spoke out to the soldiers: Let us pass. We have
no other road.
Just then,
a major rushed up and, rebuking the captain, made the soldiers stand
down.
"I
was scared to death," recalled Nyo Ohn Myint.
Later that
evening, they held a meeting at the party office, where he recalled
that she told party comrades, if she were killed, they should use
that opportunity "to win democracy and freedom for the country."
Her exploit
spread by word-of-mouth. For the Burmese, long cowed by the military
regime, it vaulted her to iconic status.
Years
of House Arrest
The more
the people seemed to exalt Suu Kyi, the more the military seemed to
fear her. The party chairman's son, Thant Zin Oo, drove to Suu Kyi's
house the morning of July 20, 1989. Like his father's, it was surrounded
by soldiers. He had disturbing news. The soldiers had barred his father
from leaving home. They had cut the phone lines.
Suu packed
a small bag and arranged for a friend to care for the boys. That afternoon,
soldiers barged into the compound. They seized 40 NLD members, trucking
them off to the notorious Insein (pronounced "insane") Prison.
At 4 p.m.
a military official arrived and read a detention order to Suu Kyi.
Kim, then 11, asked his mother if she were being taken away. She explained
she was going to be locked up in the compound. They carted off boxes
of documents.
Michael,
who had been in Scotland for his father's funeral, hurried to Rangoon
to find his wife on Day 3 of a hunger strike, demanding that she be
taken to prison to be with her colleagues. For 12 days she accepted
only water, losing 12 pounds, falling below 100 pounds. She relented
when a military officer assured her that the activists would be treated
humanely.
Thus began
six years of house arrest -- it wouldn't be her last -- during which
Michael was allowed only two visits. He became a single father in
what Carey calls "bachelor digs" in Oxford. "It was
jolly difficult," Carey says. "The warm heart of the Aris
household" was
no longer there.
In the
beginning, separation from her family depressed her, she has said,
but any pain or longing "simply became part of my daily life."
She maintained a strict regimen: Up by half past 4. An hour of meditation.
An hour and a half of radio, BBC, Voice of America, the Democratic
Voice of Burma. She exercised on a NordicTrack treadmill. She read
extensively, savoring volumes by Rabindranath Tagore, Nehru, Jane
Austen. Cleaning, sewing. In bed by 9.
She made
a point of dressing nicely every morning, putting jasmine in her hair.
A housemaid relayed her doings to the authorities. "That was
very dispiriting for them," recalled a friend. "They were
expecting her to be bedraggled and unnerved. She never gave them the
opportunity."
In the
1990 elections, the NLD won a landslide victory, capturing 82 percent
of the seats. The regime, stunned, argued that absent a new constitution,
it could not convene the parliament. Suu Kyi was awarded the Nobel
Peace Prize the next year, while she was still under strict house
arrest.
She was
freed on July 10, 1995, determined to pick up where she had left off.
But she was rarely allowed to travel outside Rangoon. When she did,
military intelligence would tail her. If she went to a restaurant,
she would hear later that it had been shut down. So she rarely ventured
into public.
But the
public came to her.
Every Saturday
afternoon, at 4 sharp, she would mount a wooden riser behind the iron
gate at her house, holding a notepad, her eyes bright. Hundreds of
people would flock to the gate. Buses would roll slowly past, with
folks hanging out of windows to catch a glimpse. Nodding and smiling,
she would speak for exactly one hour, discussing education or democracy.
Every week
offered a teachable moment. Once, she proudly told of how a woman,
bolstered by her talks, went to cash a check, and when the bank clerk
began to deduct a fee for a calendar issued by the military, she protested.
"But I did not request a calendar." The clerk insisted.
The woman stood her ground. Taken aback, the clerk cashed the check
in full.
Suu Kyi
cited that tiny moment as a victory in the struggle toward democracy.
"The idea," says a British friend who lived in Rangoon,
"is that if they could resist in some small way, and not bring
down punishment on their families, that they would know in their hearts
they'd resisted."
The
Penalty of Separation
The price
Suu Kyi paid for her choice continued to mount.
She attempted
to travel outside Rangoon, and each time was forced back after standoffs
with the military. On one occasion in 1998, she spent 11 days in a
minibus. She stopped drinking to avoid having to urinate in public,
then was manhandled by the military and forced home, bruised and dehydrated.
"Look
at me, I'm over 50," she said to a friend at one point. "At
this age, I should be leading a quiet life. But then I think of Mandela.
The poor man's 80 and he's still working."
The government
tried to undermine Suu Kyi with posters suggesting crude sexual behavior
or that she was anti-Buddhist. Their accusations followed a theme,
observed one journalist: "You're married to a foreigner. You've
got Western ideas in your mind. You're not really one of us."
The next
January, Michael rang Peter Carey. "I've got two pieces of news,
one good, one bad," he said. "I've got cancer. But I'm going
to beat it." The prostate cancer was advanced. He kept hoping
he would get into Burma to see "my Suu," Carey recalls.
The government kept refusing his visas. He had not seen her since
1996.
She knew
that if she left to be with him, the regime would never let her return.
Coming to terms with that reality took prayer and the deep faith of
a lifelong Buddhist. It was an intensely difficult time. It seems
her choice had always been made -- "my country first," she
told "Dateline NBC" in 2000. But it was not an easy choice.
Still,
she refused to cast the price paid as a sacrifice. "If you choose
to do something, then you shouldn't say it's a sacrifice, because
nobody forced you to do it."
Michael
died on March 27, 1999. Toward the end of his life, when he was in
the hospital, she would try to speak with him every evening. Because
her phone line was cut, she arranged to await his call at the home
of a diplomat. Military intelligence soon figured it out.
One evening,
Michael and Suu had just said hello when the line went dead. In a
rare moment of utter despair, she burst into tears.
A Day
of Freedom
Suu Kyi
was placed under house arrest again in September 2000, and not released
until 19 months later.
She was
rallying a crowd of 20,000 in western Burma one day last December,
when suddenly authorities turned a fire hose on the crowd. In the
panic, Suu Kyi climbed on the firetruck and exhorted the people to
stay. She lashed out at the security forces, telling them their job
was not to bully the people but to serve them. The people stayed.
A friend
urged her to tell that story earlier this year when Al Neuharth, president
of the Freedom Forum, traveled to Burma to give her an award for her
nonviolent struggle for democracy.
"No,
I don't want to complain," she said.
"You
have to complain," the friend replied.
"It's
not about me," she protested.
The friend
left thinking, "But it's so about you."
Last December,
Suu Kyi was feeling optimistic. She was buoyed particularly by a trip
to Shan State, home of a large ethnic minority, because there, the
NLD, quite on its own, had been active, helping mothers get milk for
their babies, villagers fill out government forms. "There was
this sense that the party was a party for the whole country,"
recalled the British friend.
Then came
the May 30 ambush. More than 100 companions, including her 76-year-old
deputy, are still detained from that one night.
Today,
democracy seems no nearer in Southeast Asia's hermit country.
Though
it has been 14 years since he last saw her, Nyo Ohn Myint can still
remember the day, because it was so rare, when the entourage took
a break from campaigning. They went to Maungmagun Beach in southern
Burma.
The young
people went swimming, frolicking like children, hurling people into
the water. Suu Kyi just walked on the beach, lifting the hem of her
sarong as she trod on the sand.
Aunty,
come join us! The boys shouted.
She demurred.
But she let the spray soak her. She was laughing. She looked so free.
All we want is
our freedom
BY Aung San
Suu Kyi, Parade Magazine (U.S. national syndicate) - March 9 2003
Traveling
across Burma, I ask people why they want democracy. Very often the
answer is, "We just want to be free." They do not have to
elaborate. I understand what they mean. They want to be able to live
their lives without the oppressive sense that their destiny is not
theirs to shape. They do not want their daily existence to be ruled
by the orders and whims of those whose authority is based on might
of arms.
When I
ask young people what they mean by freedom, they say that they want
to be able to speak their minds. They want to be able to voice their
discontent with an education system that does not challenge their
intellect. They want to be able to discuss, criticize, argue; to be
able to gather in the thousands or even hundreds of thousands to sing,
to shout, to cheer. Burma's young people want to play out the vitality
of their youth in its full spectrum of hope and wonder--its uncertainties,
its arrogance, its fancies, its brilliance, it rebelliousness, its
harshness, its tenderness.
What do
the women of Burma want? They tell me that they want to be free from
the tyranny of rising prices that make a household an exhausting business.
They want to be free from anxiety that their husbands might be penalized
for independent thinking--or that their children might not be given
a chance in life. Many -- too many -- long to be free from having
to sell their bodies to support their families.
The farmers
and peasants I meet want to sow and plant as they wish, to be able
to market their products at will, unhampered by the coercion to sell
it to the state at cruelly low prices. They struggle daily with the
land. They do not want unreasonable decrees and incomprehensible authority
to add to their burden.
And what
about those of us in the National League of Democracy? Why are we
working so hard to free our country? Is it not that we see democracy
through a haze of optimism. We know that democracy is a jewel that
must be polished constantly to maintain its luster. To prevent it
from being damaged or stolen, democracy must be guarded and unremitting
vigilance.
We are
working so hard for freedom because only in a free Burma will we be
able to build a nation that respects and cherishes human dignity.
As I travel
through my country, people often ask me how it feels to have been
imprisoned in my home --first for six years, then for 19 months. How
could I stand the separation from family and friends? It is ironic,
I say, that in an authoritarian state it is only the prisoner of conscience
who is genuinely free. Yes, we have given up our right to a normal
life. But we have stayed true to that most precious part of our humanity--our
conscience.
Here is
what I want most for my people: I want the security of genuine freedom
and the freedom of genuine security. I would like to see the crippling
fetters of fear removed, that the people of Burma may be able to hold
their heads high as free human beings. I would like to see them striving
in unity and joy to build a safer, happier society for us all. I would
especially like to see our younger people stride confidently into
the future, their richness of spirit soaring to meet all challenges.
I would like to be able to say: "This is a nation worthy of all
those who loved it and lived and died for it--that we might be proud
of our heritage." These are not dreams. These constitute the
reality towards which we have been working for years, firm in our
faith that the will of the people will ultimately triumph.
"WE HAVE COMPROMISED"
Daw Aung San Suu Kyi agrees in an interview in
Rangoon with senior AsiaWeek correspondent, Roger Mitton on June 5,
1999 that negotiations with Burma's Dictator-Generals could start at
a lower level without her.
People have been waiting for years for Myanmar's
junta to open substantive negotiations with opposition National League
for Democracy. The generals promised they would talk with anybody in
the NLD, except the party's leader, Aung San Suu Kyi. The party insisted
on her presence. Negotiations never began. Now, though, for the first
time Suu Kyi seems willing to let other NLD officials start a dialogue
with the generals. The following is the record
of this interview published by AsiaWeek
OnLine. (Copywrite - Asia Week)
RM: "Yesterday
was the 9th anniversay of the 1990 elections which your party won handsomely.
What is state of your party today compared to back then?"
ASSK: "Well, I wasn't around when
the elections took place because I was under house arrest. So I can't
really compare the party today to what it was in 1990. But I can compare
it to what it was like before I was placed under house arrest, that
is 1989. Compared to 1989, the party is subjected to a lot more restrictions.
There have been a lot of arrests of party members in the meantime, and
some of our best people are still in prison. Some have started coming
out - not because of an amnesty or anything like that, but because they've
served their term and are having to juggle their way back into the free,
or as free as it is in Burma, free society. And the party, I think,
is tougher. It's much more, it's smaller because obviously a lot of
our members have been forced to resign. Or they have been put into prison.
But I think there's a tougher feel to it, it's more tight knit. It has
to be."
RM: "You
said in your human rights message in April this year that you have faced
more hardship over the past year than over the preceding 7 or 8 yrs."
ASSK: "Oh, yes. Because the authorities,
over the last year, really started getting serious about trying to annhilate
the party. Because this has been their slogan for I think about two
or three years now."
RM: "Annhilation."
Annhiliation? This is the term they use?"
ASSK: "Yes, that is the term they
actually use. They use this word annhilate. And I think then they changed
it to crush perhaps because there was a little bit of criticism on the
part of the international community."
RM: "You
said the regime's activities against you are tantamount to criminal
activities?"
ASSK: "They are criminal activities.
Because what they are doing is against the law. According to the terms
of the law, some of the things they have done are crimes. So they are
criminal activities."
RM: "But
there is nothing much you can do about it even so?"
ASSK: "Oh, there is no rule of
law in this country. So the fact that they act in these criminal ways,
it does not make any difference to them. It makes a lot of difference
to the people, of course."
RM: "On
May 27 last year your party held a Congress and announced its intention
to convene a parliament. That was a fairly dramatic action."
ASSK: "No, it wasn't like that.
We did not announce our intention to convene parliament last year. It
was not like that. But one of the decisions taken at the Congress was
that we should ask the authorities to convene parliament by a certain
date."
RM: "And
subsequently you placed a deadline of August 21 by which time parliament
must be convened by the regime."
ASSK: "That was the decision of
the Congress that we should inform the authorities that parliament should
be convened by a certain date."
RM: "And
if they did not convene parliament by that date?"
ASSK: "Well, we discussed this
matter. Party representatives who came to the Congress wanted to know
whether we had an alternative plan. And we said we didn't at the moment
because the decision had just been made that we should inform the authorities
of our decision to ask parliament to be convened. But then we decided
that we would have to make an alternative plan because if they didn't
meet the deadline then we must take another action."
RM: "That's
when you decided you would name your own committee that would represent
parliament in the absence of the regime convening it?"
ASSK: "The committee representing
parliament, yes. But we went step by step. They didn't convene parliament
by the 21st of August, so our party announced that we would then convene
parliament on our own and then the regime started arresting our MPs.
So then we decided that we would form the committee representing parliament."
RM: "So
it was a fairly dramatic summer last year."
ASSK: "But step by step.
I think if you put all these things together then it makes it into a
great big drama. But that is not how it actually was. It was one thing
at a time."
RM: "It
certainly captured the attention of the international media, especially
when you add on your own attempts to drive out of town."
ASSK: "Yes, but again that was
at a different time. It was all spread out from May until September
last year. May, June, July, August, September. It was spread out over
five months. If you put together what happened over the five months
then it seems very dramatic, but if you take it one thing at a time,
then you can see that we went quite slowly."
RM: "Yesterday,
the one-year anniversary of your congress when you took the first of
those steps and asked the regime to convene parliament, you held another
party meeting but you did not make any comparable move or first step
of any kind?"
ASSK: "Well, there's no need for
a first step any more, we've already taken the first and second steps
- the second step was to form the committee representing parliament.
Now the next stage is to take forward the activities of the committee.
That is the logical next step. You can't keep taking first steps all
the time. That wouldn't make sense, would it."
RM: "But
many people felt you would make another dramatic move on May 27 this
year in order to boost your party's profile."
ASSK: "People always want drama,
I think especially journalists. They want something dramatic all the
time to write about. Which is why I disagree with your view of our having
done something terribly dramatic last May. It wasn't like that at all.
You're putting together five months events into one day, and then of
course, that makes it seem very dramatic."
RM: "So
there will be no comparable actions over this summer, even if spread
out?"
ASSK: "I don't know what you mean
by comparable actions. Because what we did last summer was to go forward
step by step, and we will keep on going forward step by step."
RM: "Well,
comparable actions like driving out of the city?"
ASSK: "Driving out of the city
was not part of the call for convening parliament. It was connected
to that because they started arresting our MPs."
RM: "That
action of driving out of the city put you and your party into the headlines
of the world's media."
ASSK: "Although it may surprise
people, we don't do things in order to attract attention. We do what
we think would help us in our political aims, that's all."
RM: "So
things like driving out of the city, which might precipitate a rather
strong reaction from the regime, you are not at the moment planning
any of those types of actions this year?"
ASSK: "Last year, if you think
back, the first two times we did that, driving out, it was resolved
very quietly. And we were not doing it in order to precipitate a strong
reaction either. Because the authorities decided to play it in a civilized
way and there was a civilized solution. It was only the third time,
when it was decided that they wanted to go in for drama. So it was not
we who went in for drama. We, as I said earlier, don't do things in
order to attract attention or to create drama. We do what we think would
be politically beneficial for our party and its supporters."
RM: "I
repeat that people were expecting you and your party have to do something
dramatic like last year"
ASSK: "We never say what we are
going to do in advance. So it's no use in trying to find out."
RM: "But
there has been a sense of disappointment or a deflation among people
that nothing happened yesterday on the May 27 anniversary."
ASSK: "It depends on how political
they are. If they study the announcements of the committee representing
parliament, they would know that we have taken actually a much bigger
step than we have done since last September. Because we are starting
to make plans for preparing a Constitution, and for getting closer to
the nationalities. But people are not interested in the real politics
of it, they just want dramatic events."
RM: "Do
you believe that the people are still behind you?"
ASSK: "Oh, yes, much more now than
ever. Because I think we have much more support now than we had say
three years ago, when there were those who thought that perhaps the
government's economic policies were getting them somewhere and that
the country might be improving economically. But last year - well, in
1997, that was really the crunch year for the economy - it became obvious
towards the end of 1997 that things were not going well. And last year
it became even more evident. And because of that, we have more support
now than we had, say, three years ago. I think the best years for the
regime were between 1993 and 1996 from the point of view of the economy.
Because at that time, people really believed that there was going to
be a big boom."
RM: "You
extrapolate dissatisfaction with the economy into support for you?"
ASSK: "No, I don't think so. I
think people support us because they are discontent with the present
regime. That's normal in any circumstances. You know, people support
the opposition because they don't like the incumbent. So whether it's
for economic reasons, political reasons or social reasons, it's not
always the same. But I would say that primarily in Burma at the moment
it's for economic as well as political reasons. But I think that it's
the economic reasons which have swung so much support in our favor over
the last couple of years."
RM: "How
can we gauge your support from the people, aside from getting feedback
from your members?"
ASSK: "You
can also look at how cooperative the general public is with the authorities.
I think then you will have some idea of how much they like or dislike
this regime. I mean you can grade the degree of support or lack of support
for the regime that way. And anybody who has studied the situation here
would find that the general public are not really cooperative with the
regime at all. They are reluctantly dragging their feet, going along
with what they are made to do. But you don't find any enthusiasm for
the policies of this regime. You can also look at how cooperative the
general public is with the authorities. I think then you will have some
idea of how much they like or dislike this regime. I mean you can grade
the degree of support or lack of support for the regime that way. And
anybody who has studied the situation here would find that the general
public are not really cooperative with the regime at all. They are reluctantly
dragging their feet, going along with what they are made to do. But
you don't find any enthusiasm for the policies of this regime."
RM: "Former
ASEAN secretary-general Ajit Singh, when he was sitting with the regime's
Gen. David Abel last night, asked me why Asiaweek did not write more
about you and your party losing support."
ASSK: "Why is he saying that? Because
he obviously wants you to write about it. In fact, Asiaweek and other
Asian magazines have put forward this point of view. So I suppose they
want to emphasize this point of view, which is not really surprising
coming from an ASEAN country."
RM: "If
an election were held again tomorrow, would you win in comparable style
as in 1990?"
ASSK: "Oh,
absolutely. Perhaps even better."
RM: "There
are those who say that was then and this is now."
ASSK: "Well, I'll say one thing,
it's only if elections are free and fair. I doubt that if there were
an election tomorrow, it would be free and fair because I think the
regime has learned a very hard lesson from the previous elections. And
I think if they were to hold elections tomorrow, they would make sure
that the elections were rigged so that whoever they want to win will
win. I don't think they would allow it to be free and fair elections.
Because they miscalculated very badly in 1990."
RM: "There
are those who say that the election would not be won by the NLD, it
would be won by you. And it would be won by you because of your name
- the name of your father, Aung San, who is a hero to the people."
ASSK: "They said this about the
last elections too. A lot of people say the last elections were won
because of me rather than because of the NLD. But that's a matter of
opinion."
RM: "They
say the party is nothing without you."
ASSK: "I don't think that is true.
I would be nothing without the party. After all, I can't work without
a party. And obviously it helps the party to have me because my father's
name still means a lot in Burma."
RM: "The
rather scabrous cartoons that appear every day in the New Light of Myanmar
do not bother you?"
ASSK: "No, we've got so used to
that. That's been going on for a year or two now. Certainly a long time.
We've got quite used to that. We'd be quite surprised if they didn't
come out. In fact, they are one of our biggest assets, as it were. Because
the nasty cartoons have turned a lot of people against this regime.
We get feedback from ordinary Burmese people, from a lot of Burmese
business people who are not particularly political and who I don't think
were really hardline supporters of the democracy movement or anything
like that. They are people who really had not that much against the
military regime either as long as they could make the economy work it
was all right. But when these cartoons and very very vicious articles
started coming out in the government media, the feedback we got was
that some of these people just felt embarrassed. And they began to think
that it showed up exactly how the regime has no standards at all. The
nastiness of the cartoons reflects the nastiness of the regime - and
also their low intellectual approach if you like."
RM: "At
the ASEAN conference being held here yesterday and today, Gen. Khin
Nyunt gave the keynote speech. He said: "Myanmar is on the right political
track that will guarantee the peace, stability and prosperity of the
nation." Is the country on the right track to prosperity?"
ASSK: "Well,
it's certainly not prospering. I don't agree with that statement at
all. Let's put it like that."
RM: "You
have said in the past that things are worse now than they were under
the Burma Socialist Program Party (BSPP) - the regime led by Gen. Ne
Win from 1962 to 1988?"
ASSK: "Yes,
I think a lot of people would agree with that. It's much better now
for a few people. The economic opportunities that have come into the
hands of a few people have made them very very wealthy; but in general
I think Burma is much worse off. Take the lack of electricity. It was
not this bad under the BSPP. Now there is a very very bad shortage of
electricity. I think in some cases a shortage of water as well. Because
in many places even in the middle of the city, people depend on electicity
to crank up water from the ground floor to the upper floors. So no electricity
means no water. And if the electricity only comes on at 12 o'clock at
night they have to get up at 12 o'clock in order to get water in while
they can.And look at the state of the schools
and hospitals. They are much worse now than they were under the BSPP.
Because under the BSPP, I don't think that there were complaints that
there were no medicines in the hospitals. Or no equipment. There was
a certain lack of sophisticated equipment and perhaps they did not have
all the medicines necessary. But the situation was much better. But
now they have nothing in the hospitals. And the same thing for the schools.
The schools under the BSPP were not all that hot, but now they don't
have basic things like textbooks. Although in some schools they have
built up these fancy computer showrooms with computers which are kept
under lock and key, except for demonstration purposes. So
I think one can say that we are much worse off. And of course, if you
look at the statistics collected by an agency like UNICEF, which is
nothing to do with either the democracy side or the military regime,
you would find that the percentage of people who don't go to school
at all isrising. And the percentage of elementary school dropouts is
also rising."
RM: "Yet
people who came here during the 1980s say that the roads then were all
potholled, that there was only one decent hotel in Yangon where you
got a candle when you checked in and so on; whereas now the roads are
okay, there are lots of cars and the place is full of hotels."
ASSK: "As
I said, for some people it has got better. I said for the privileged
people it has got better. But how many Burmese people use these hotels
anyway? How many Burmese people are going to fly in after a holiday
abroad? So for those who can do it, yes, it's better."
RM: "Someone
mentioned to me that, of course, even the military men suffer from power
outtages and other hardships from the economic situation, so it's not
as if they are benefitting from this."
ASSK: "It depends on where you
are. You can be a quite low-ranking officer, but if you happen to be
in the right place i.e. a place where you can make a lot of money, where
people like to bribe you, or where you are in a position to dictate
how people live, then you can get very very wealthy. But a higher ranking
officer who is in a position where there are no bribes coming in, then
he will not be well off. And of course the rank and file are not well
off."
RM: "They
may not be well off, but everyone seems to agree that there are no signs
of unrest by younger officers, no signs of dissatisfaction."
ASSK: "Well,
there are always rumors about dissatisfaction because the soldiers are
poor. The rank and file are poor. They don't get enough to eat. And
I think you will find that a number of families of soldiers are putting
up little stalls, little snackbars, in the areas where they have barracks
because the husbands are not earning enough. That you can see everywhere
all over the place."
RM: "Businessmen
tell me that the kyat economy is doing quite well, growing by 3% to
4% annually; that it is only the dollar economy that is doing badly."
ASSK: "What do they mean by the
kyat economy doing well?"
RM: "Using
kyat for purchases, trade and whatever, it's only things that you need
to import, or the national projects where foreign currency is used and
where there's a lack of foreign exchange, that are really hurting".
ASSK: "Yes,
but what do they mean by the economy doing well? Of course, we buy things
with the kyat, if that's what you mean. That we go on doing. But with
the rate of inflation, business has dampened down. Ordinary foodstalls
or restaurants, eating places, where you pay in kyats, I think there
are fewer customers there too."
RM: "Even
in rural areas?"
ASSK: "Even in the rural areas
people are having to tighten their belts. But in the rural areas, of
course, there are not that many economic enterprises growing as there
are in the urban areas. In the rural areas there are mainly farmers
and the agricultural economy is not doing all that well. For example,
recently because the rain started so early this year, in April, I was
told that the peanut crop has been really bad. So that's going too affect
peanut farmers hard. And that also means that the price of peanut oil
is going to go up."
RM: "Yet
few seem to think that the weak economy will lead to political change.
They think the people will just struggle on as they have done for the
past forty years or so."
ASSK: "It
always surprises me when people make remarks like that. Considering
the fact that in 1988 what happened happened really because of the economy."
RM: "Well,
it was the demonetarization of some of the kyat notes that really caused
that to happen, wasn't it?"
ASSK: "Yes,
but that hurt them economically. The fact that some of the kyat notes
were demonetized didn't really bring about a revolution at all. It was
nearly a year before the 1988 demonstrations broke out, but in the meantime
of course the people had been getting poorer and poorer. And the economic
hardships were getting worse and worse. And so it was a culmination
of many economic hardships. I think economic reasons have always played
a fairly big part in political revolution."
RM: "Is
that what you are seeking: a political revolution?"
ASSK: "We
are seeking a political revolution simply through political means. By
doing politics which is what we are doing, and which is what the government
is trying to prevent us from doing. So if a revolution breaks out, it
will not be of our doing. It will be because the government has more
or less blocked all other paths to political change."
RM: "Would
you support the people if unrest like that breaks out?"
ASSK: "If
you mean that would I support violence, no I would not support violence.
Because I don't think that violence really does anybody any good. But
if you mean that would we support a spontaneous demonstration by the
people for better conditions, certainly we would. Why shouldn't we?
We know there is a need for
better conditions."
RM: "If
an NLD government came in, would it broadly follow a market economy?"
ASSK: "Yes,
we have actually brought out a couple of papers of our economic policy,
but people never read them. Then they ask what is our economic policy.
They say: don't you have an economic program? When in fact we have brought
out a number of papers on this and most foreign correspondents don't
read them. And then they ask us what our economic program is."
RM: "You
continue to believe that economic sanctions against your country are
a good thing?"
ASSK: "I think sanctions are effective.
The government says two things. Sometimes they say that sanctions have
no effect whatsoever so they don't care about them - in which case,
why are they making a fuss. And then sometimes they say that sanctions
are hurting the ordinary people in Burma. But when they say that the
sanctions are hurting the ordinary people of Burma, then that does not
sound good either because that's tantamount to saying that they are
different from the ordinary people and that their life is quite different.
So either way you look at it, the regime's approach toward sanctions
is inconsistent and not very uplifting. But we think that sanctions
have been effective, because as the United States is such a strong economic
power, then when sanctions came in, potential investors started looking
into the situation very carefully. And then they found that there were
many things that they didn't like about the business practices and the
invesment laws of Burma. And that is why they backed off. Not simply
because the U.S. brought in sanctions."
RM: "There
are those who say that sanctions are a bankrupt policy, that they've
never really worked and that all they are doing is bringing hardship
to the people of your country?"
ASSK: "Well,
they are not causing hardship to the people of the country. That we
can say. So to people like that, I would just say that: prove it, prove
that sanctions are hurting the people of the country. And they can't
really prove it. The US sanctions are not such that they in any way
effect the Burmese economy as it is to a great extent. The ones who
are hurt are the ones who are right at the top, who were thinking of
having dealings with American firms. Because the sanctions didn't get
rid of all investments; it was just that no new investments could come
in. So, whom does that hurt? Only those who were planning to work with
American companies. And how would that help the ordinary people? I just
don't know how they argue that it hurts the ordinary people."
RM: "But
they might argue that if there were no sanctions then there might be
investment in infrastructure projects that might alleviate the power
shortage and other things that make life so difficult for ordinary people."
ASSK: "But
what is the proof that any American firm was thinking of doing that
kind of infrastructure work anyway? There is no proof of any kind. There
were some individuals who had plans to go into business with American
firms, but not on things like that. It was for their own personal profit.
And I suppose sanctions have hurt people like that. But not the ordinary
people of Burma."
RM: "You
disagree with those in ASEAN who continue to invest in your country?"
ASSK: "I think a lot of people
are losing. A lot of the ASEAN investments here are not doing well at
all. If you look at the hotels you would get a good idea of how badly
they are. How big a percentage of their rooms are full?"
RM: "I
think you said once that the ASEAN economic crisis was helping your
cause, is that a correct interpretation?"
ASSK: "I don't know whether I said
it was helping us as such, but I think I may have said the ASEAN economic
crisis made the problems of Burma much more evident to others. Because
they were not able to help Burma, they were so busy with their own problems.
And then the economic incompetence of this regime became more obvious,
with nobody to bale them out."
RM: "In
that earlier statement of Khin Nyunt's at the ASEAN meeting here, he
also spoke of the government bringing peace and stability. People say
that a major achievement of the regime has been to settle the ethnic
insurgencies. Do you agree?"
ASSK: "They have had the ceasefire
agreements, but they are still ceasefire agreements. They don't seem
to have come to any longterm political solution. Because the ceasefire
groups are still holding onto their arms. And that in itself creates
an element of instability, because members of the ceasefire groups can
just go into the big cities of Burma with revolvers at their hips. And
it is illegal for ordinary Burmese citizens to go around with a lethal
weapon. But members of the ceasefire groups, I suppose the officials,
can be seen around with their guns."
RM: "So
would you say that the regime has achieved a halfway step in bringing
stability and curbing the ethnic fighting?"
ASSK: "They've
got the halfway step, yes. But I don't know about stability. If they
are so confident of the stability of this country, why haven't they
reopened the universities?"
RM: "They
may regard that as a different issue from dealing with the border insurgencies."
ASSK: "Well,
it's all to do with stability, isn't it. You can't say it's a different
issue."
RM: "There
are worries, especially in the regime, but also outside, that if you
come to power the country will be plunged into a Yugoslavia or Indonesia
type situation, with ethnic fighting flaring up all over the place."
ASSK: "I
don't buy that at all. It's such a silly idea that I don't really even
think it's worth discussing in great detail. But if you must go into
the Yugoslavia problem, the animosities, the hostilities, between the
various racial groups in Yugoslavia go back to the 12th century."
RM: "Do
they not go back just as far here between the different ethnic groups?
- the Shan, Wa, Mon, Arakans and so on?"
ASSK: "Not
quite in the same way. The Wa is a new element. We've had wars between
the Mons and the Burmese, and between the Arakanese and the Burmese.
Not so much with the Shans, although there have been squirmishes with
individual Shan chieftans, Shan rulers. But the kind of problems that
existed in Yugoslavia, I think were exacerbated by the years of totalitarian
rule. When people were not allowed to work out their differences through
a pluralistic political system. And the tradition of settling their
differences through violence was never really removed. It hasn't been
removed in Burma either. Because the regime itself is trying to resolve
problems through violence. Putting people in prison is violence. Killing
people is violence. They are still using violent means to resolve problems,
and violence never really resolved problems. It may keep them under
control to a certain extent. So I don't think that their methods are
going to bring about permanent peace."
RM: "But
people still fear that if there were an NLD-led government tomorrow
there would be a holocaust."
ASSK: "Well,
if you look back to what Burma was like after independence, I don't
think you can say that. The first Karen insurgencies of course started
the moment Burma became independent, because some groups did not accept
the Burmese government, or rather a government dominated by Burmese.
But in those days under parliamentary democracy, yes there were insurgencies
which were really a legacy of the war. There were Communist insurgencies,
and there were a few ethnic insurgencies, but the number of ethnic insurgencies
really increased dramatically under the BSPP. So you cannot really say
that it was democracy that led to all these ethnic dissatisfactions."
RM: "You
believe it might be the dictatorial nature of the regime, the repression,
that caused that?"
ASSK: "Yes,
because people were not allowed to express their dissatisfaction through
acceptable political channels. The only way they could express their
dissatisfaction was by taking up arms."
RM: "There
are people in countries that border Myanmar, certainly in Thailand,
who worry about what will happen if you come to power, whether they
will have fighting all along their border."
ASSK: "I
think they should worry about their own country. We'll worry about ours."
RM: "But
you acknowledge that the regime has come halfway to bringing some measure
of stability?"
ASSK: "I
won't say stability. I think stability is a different issue. But I think
we will say that they have come halfway to bringing an end to armed
ethnic insurgencies."
RM: "I
drove to Mawlamyine last weekend and passed over two new bridges. The
road is greatly improved, you can drive all the way there without needing
to take a ferry any more. Has the regime also done some good in this
regard?"
ASSK: "But
isn't putting up bridges and building roads the job of any government?
If you are going to talk like that then we'll have to start making a
list of all the bridges and the roads and the railways lines that were
put up by the colonial government. If you are going to say that good
government is one which builds bridges and puts down roads and railways,
then we'd have to favor the colonial government as a very good government.
But I doubt that the regime would accept such a definition. So, all
right, they have put up bridges, there is nothing wrong with it, and
bridges are a good thing - if they are built strongly and won't fall
down under the weight of too many cars; but this is just normal work
that any government would be expected to do and I would not think that
this is a justification for a military regime to keep clinging to power."
RM: "Members
of the regime often say that you may disagree with much of what we do,
but there is never any acknowledgement of the good things we do."
ASSK: "Well,
wouldn't you have thought that the ASEAN countries acknowledge it more
than enough? To make up for whoever it is who do not. A lot of the ASEAN
countries talk about the ceasefire agreements, and they also talk about
the so-called economic boom - but they've stopped talking about that
now, although two or three years ago they were talking about the hotels,
the cars and the roads and so on. So what does the regime mean by saying
nobody talks about it? People talked about it a lot. But they've stopped
talking about it, because you can't go on talking about the hotels when
the hotels are empty. And you can't go on talking about the roads when
the roads are empty of the expected new traffic. You can't go on talking
about them again and again. How often do we expect people to go on talking
about bridges and roads and hotels?"
RM: "But
they feel that it would be nice if the West, which has led the move
to sanctions and pretty relentlessly criticizes them, would occasionally
acknowledge that they have done something that benefitted the people.
It might be a gesture that might bring a response."
ASSK: "The
West would be least inclined to be impressed by hotels and roads and
bridges."
RM: "Why?
This is more than a lot of developing countries do."
ASSK: "I
don't think the West would be impressed by hotels. The tourists might
be pleased with them. Bridges, yes. I'm not sure that bridges are really
considered that impressive any more."
RM: "The
regime feels that this begrudging attitude towards them makes them feel
that if they do something positive, if they move towards you in a conciliatory
gesture or whatever, that all they will get is to be ignored or rebuffed."
ASSK: "But
what sort of gesture have they ever made?"
RM: "They
spoke to some of your people two or three years ago, they allowed you
to have your Congress last year, but each time they do this the ante
is raised and they are expected to do something else."
ASSK: "Oh,
no, when we were allowed to have the Congress, we were very very loud
with our words of appreciation. Yes, we said we appreciated the fact
that we were able to hold the Congress. So it's not true. Every time
they made a gesture we acknowledged it - but to the degree of the importance
of the gesture. Not more than that. But it didn't mean that after acknowledging
the gesture then we sat back and did nothing. Because we went ahead
with our work. But we certainly said that we appreciated it very much.
I said it myself so I should know."
RM: "The
ASEAN policy of constructive engagement is one which you feel is not
really succeeding?"
ASSK: "It
hasn't succeeded. What has it done? When ASEAN was considering Burma
as a permanent member a couple of years ago, we made two points. One
was that admitting Burma as a member would make the regime more repressive,
because they would think that their policies have been endorsed. They
would see it as a seal of approval. Or, at least, if it was not a seal
of approval it was a sign that the ASEAN countries didn't mind about
the human rights record of the military regime. And the second thing
we said was that Burma under this military regime was not going to be
an asset to the organization. And I think we can claim that both these
views have been vindicated."
RM: "They
are more repressive since joining ASEAN?"
ASSK: "Oh,
they have got much much more repressive since they became a full member
of ASEAN. And I don't think that really Burma is much of a credit to
ASEAN these days. It's not exactly a shining example for them."
RM: "The
US espouses constructive engagement on China but not on Myanmar. This
inconsistency puzzles many people, even Western diplomats. How do you
explain it?"
ASSK: "I
think the situation in China is different. And surprising as it may
sound to some people, we think that Chinese dissidents have a much better
deal than we have. In China, even when I was under house arrest, I would
listen to the radio and I would be surprised by the fact that families
of dissidents could talk to foreign correspondents and express their
concern about their husbands and fathers and they would not be arrested.
They would have these interviews quite freely. And I think the Chinese
are quite sensible about give and take as regards dissidents. And with
give and take with the Western democracies. The military regime here
is far more intransigent and that's why I think one can say that constructive
engagement with China bears more results than constructive engagement
with Burma. I don't see any sort of give and take with regards to human
rights taking place here - either between Burma and the Western democracies,
or between Burma and the ASEAN countries."
RM: "Has
there been any give on the other side?"
ASSK: "Yes.
But no give on the side of the regime. This is what we say ad nauseum
as well, that the regime does not want give and take, but they take
all and we give all. But that's not what you mean by give and take.
It's meant to be a bit of both on both sides."
RM: "Talking
about how they treat you, Dr Mathahir once said it's not as if you are
being strung up."
ASSK: "Well,
that's right. Again that's his personal opinion. And it's not one with
which we agree."
RM: "If
you came to power you would not feel uncomfortable with such ASEAN leaders?"
ASSK: "No,
you don't. Politics is not like that."
RM: "You
feel the US is giving you adequate support?"
ASSK: "Yes,
I think they support us very very staunchly. And so do other democracies,
particularly the Scandinavian countries. And the EU."
RM: "The
regime worries that if you come to power you might seek retribution
of some sort."
ASSK: "We
have always said that we are not interested in vengeance. That's our
official policy."
RM: "Your
principle goal is the welfare of the people, not yourself or your party?"
ASSK: "Well,
the welfare of the people, yes. I mean, what I need for my own welfare
I'd be better off not doing politics. If I were just concerned for my
own welfare."
RM: "If
your principle interest is the people of your country, why don't you
step aside and let someone else deal with representatives of the government
in a dialogue - given that the regime says it will talk to anyone in
your party but you."
ASSK: "But
that's just an excuse. They have made a lot of misleading statements
about dialogue. And they have shown a lack of sincerity with regard
to dialogue."
RM: "You
feel that even if you agreed to this they would not engage in substantive
dialogue?"
ASSK: "No,
no. They are not engaging in dialogue because they don't want to, because
they don't want to give up power. It's not because there's any real
reason for not engaging in dialogue."
RM: "Why
not give it another try and say you will send someone else?"
ASSK: "We
have said that we would agree to lower level negotiations which would
not involve me."
RM: "You
have?"
ASSK: "Yes.
Actually, we agreed to that in 1997 when it was put to us through a
third party. And when we agreed, they didn't come back on it, so we
knew that they were not sincere. It's just an excuse. They are always
coming up with new excuses."
RM: "But
your party has put out statements saying that the regime should not
demand that you not be present, that they choose their representatives
to dialogue and you choose yours."
ASSK: "Right,
that's true. Of course, we've always said that what we want is genuine
political dialogue not a dictated set showpiece."
RM: "But
your choice is that you should represent your party?"
ASSK: "We
have not said who we are going to choose. But we said we'll choose our
own representatives. They can't dictate to us. Then will they let us
dictate to them whom they choose as their representatives? How would
you call it genuine political dialogue if each side does not have the
right to determine its own representatives. If one side is going to
dictate terms under which the other side participates in the negotiations
that's not really negotiations at all."
RM: "What
is wrong with taking that step?"
ASSK: "What
step? That we allow them to decide on the representatives from our side?"
RM: "Yes,
if it's for the good of the people, if it might resolve the impasse."
ASSK: "Well,
how would you call this in terms of equality?"
RM: "It's
not equal, but does it matter if it gets the process moving?"
ASSK: "But
then that's not genuine political dialogue. And would you not say that
what we need is genuine political dialogue?"
RM: "Of
course, but they may be genuine - it's just that they don't like dealing
with you."
ASSK: "Well,
if they didn't like dealing with me, why didn't they have a dialogue
with our party chairman U Aung Shwe when I was under house arrest for
six years and he asked for it so many times over and over again. It
was after I was released from house arrest they brought out this excuse
that they didn't want to talk to me, that's why they were not having
negotiations. But when I was under house arrest, U Aung Shwe actually
asked to talk to them and at one point he was not even asking them for
broad political negotiations, he was simply asking to discuss with them
the working procedures of the National Convention - because it was so
undemocratic. And they refused to talk to him. So if what they wanted
was dialogue without me, they had six years in which to do it."
RM: "Okay
but that's the past, now you say you would be agreeable to a dialogue
process starting that did not include you but rather other members of
your party?"
ASSK: "They
didn't talk about dialogue without me at all then, it was only after
I was released that they said that the reason why they couldn't have
dialogue with the NLD was because they didn't want to talk to me. So
it's an obvious excuse."
RM: "But
whatever happened in the past, let me get it right: you are agreeable
to lower level talks that do not include you?"
ASSK: "We
have said we were agreeable. We have said that in 1997. And then they
pretended that they had heard nothing about it."
RM: "That
means their only other objection to talks is this committee that you
set up representing parliament. They want you to rescind this parliamentary
committee."
ASSK: "We
are not going to rescind it, because that's blackmail. They've taken
our people into detention, and then they say that if you dissolve this
committee then we'll release them. That's blackmail. And we are not
going to fall for it. And if you read our paper you will know exactly
why we don't believe that they will really move towards dialogue simply
because we give into some of their demands. They are always coming up
with some new excuse or the other."
RM: "So
you are not agreeable to rescinding the parliamentary committee?"
ASSK: "No.
Not until parliament has been convened. We said that if you want to
rescind the committee, it's very easy: convene parliament. Because we
have made it quite clear that this committee stays only until parliament
is convened."
RM: "Politics
is the art of the possible. You seem to be holding out for the impossible."
ASSK: "Why?
What are we holding out for that is impossible?"
RM: "Parliament
for a start. They are not going to giv | 
