As we parted, she said that we have to keep working for the good of the country no matter where we are.
Before leaving the NLD headquarters, I met with two other senior leaders—Win Tin and Tin Oo—for a lively chat that was, unfortunately, repeatedly interrupted by other visitors and phone calls. Though they are both in their 80s, they are sharp and full of energy. I noticed that Win Tin seemed to be always thinking about the long-term survival of the party and how to rebuild.
During our meeting, Tin Oo flashed a copy of The Irrawaddy and said that he used to get the magazine when he was under house arrest. Saying how much he enjoyed reading it, he asked with a broad smile: “I wonder how many years I would have gotten in the past if I was caught with this magazine?”
Later that day I met with 88 Generation leader Ko Ko Gyi, a former student activist who is now 50. I noticed that he was also a strategic thinker who always kept abreast of events. Released from prison in January as part of an amnesty that included hundreds of other jailed dissidents, he said he didn't want to end up back behind bars. He said he wanted to go abroad and see the world—and prepare for Burma's next election in 2015.
My five-day stay was passing so fast that I barely had time to notice the city where I grew up. At one point, I passed Rangoon University, where I had been a student in 1988, and my heart sank to see the state it was in. The dormitories were empty and tall bushes grew up around all the buildings. Its decrepitude was a sad legacy of military rule—the former ruling generals, including ex-intelligence chief Khin Nyunt, who once chaired an education committee, had systematically destroyed Burma's proud tradition of higher learning because they feared student unrest.
Another product of Burma's era of direct military rule was the rise of super-rich cronies of the generals. Business people I spoke to said that these multi-millionaires, who thrived in Burma's closed economy, now dread the prospect of sanctions being lifted, as that would open the floodgates of competition.
During my trip, I also noticed that no matter what the subject of discussion, there were always very different versions of what was really going on behind the scenes. Whether we were talking about the supposed split between reformists and hardliners, the influence of retired generals Than Shwe and Maung Aye, or any other subject, my interlocutors—senior officials, editors, diplomats and other well-informed individuals—often offered wildly different interpretations of the “true story.”
The only thing that anyone can say with certainty about the current political situation in Burma is that there is a new dynamism now that could take the country in any number of different directions. As one businessman told me, we'd better have a plan B if we want to return, because “You never know what will happen next.”
When I asked Mingalar Myanmar founder Phone Win about the recent return of some exiles, he said: “The ones who left Burma [in 1988] are coming back to become advisers to the president, and those who remained in Burma will soon become rebels.”
On the last day of my trip, I followed Suu Kyi’s campaign tour to Kawhmu, the impoverished Irrawaddy Delta township where she is running for a seat in Parliament. There is no doubt that for many Burmese, Suu Kyi is their greatest hope for real, positive change. Everywhere, her supporters came out in force to greet her as she made the grueling journey from Rangoon to Kawhmu. Even a coffin that passed the crowds on the way to the cemetery was bedecked with NLD flags.
Before catching the plane back to Thailand, I met Ludu Sein Win, one of Burma’s most respected journalists. It was a good way to collect and assess my thoughts about all that I had seen and heard, because I knew that he would offer a wise and honest analysis.
Critical of both Thein Sein and Suu Kyi, he warned that it is never a good idea to put too much faith in one person—advice that he also gave to Suu Kyi, who appears to place a great deal of trust in the president. He added that Burma's military leaders were cunning and manipulative, and would not give up power easily.
In answer to the big question in my mind—whether The Irrawaddy should move to Burma—he said the best and safest course was to maintain a base in Thailand and continue to produce independent journalism.
To my delight, he blasted some naïve foreign analysts and governments who were rushing into Burma. He said that many of his own articles were still being blocked by the censors.
I wished that I could have spent more time with him, but I had to go. In parting, I said that I hoped to return to see him again soon.
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