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Why would they? Top military leaders enjoy all kinds of favors and kickbacks from drug traders. It became common knowledge that such kickbacks were behind the mysterious death of Kaino, a Karen major in Taunggyi in the early 1970s. Even his family knows he was assassinated by fellow military intelligence officers who wanted him silenced. There is a Burmese saying: a thief becomes a dacoit (armed guerilla) as he grows stronger, and a dacoit becomes a rebel as he grows stronger. In the same way, local militias grew stronger and quickly emerged as drug armies who would occasionally defy the regime for various reasons. The regime had unwittingly created monsters. Frequent skirmishes between these forces and the regime broke out but they rarely flared into large-scale battles. Originally the militias were established as pocket armies for respective military forces, leaders and ideals. But ultimately, tables turned and the commanding leaders were at the mercy of militias who had been fattened by their involvement in the drug trade. The very last of the kakweye still at large is Khun Sa, who surrendered in 1996 and was given amnesty. Now he lives an "honest life" in Rangoon. Khun Sa’s army split into two, and many of its militant members also laid down their weapons and returned to quiet village life. Will Burma’s role in the Golden Triangle be left vacant with Khun Sa’s "retirement"? No. Vacuums are not accepted in the world of drugs. Barons know that vacuums must be filled and opportunities must never be overstepped. Burma’s junta notices these vacuums as well. Saying "no" to drugs will deprive junta leaders of one of their main sources of personal income. So instead, the search is on for new militias and drug armies. Some of the former proletarians now have mobile phones and Pajero jeeps. The ceasefire groups have ceased fighting not only with the regime, but also with the former drug barons that they once drove out. The script is the same; only actors and roles have changed. Previously the pretext was the containment of communism. Now, the pretext is the containment of invading Thai troops. Lords may come and lords may go. But the local Shan and Lahu people, making a meager living from opium, will go on toiling forever. Most know how to fight, but they don’t know much about drugs or about running a business. They have the labor and raw materials, but some lack the skills to transform raw opium into heroin. Moreover, they lack access to markets and connections in high places. Getting on with junta officials is a certainly a prerequisite of success. The new drug lords are unlikely to accumulate wealth in the style of their forerunners, Lo Hsing Han and Khun Sa. Without ongoing support from the military regime, ceasefire drug lords would just be small-time drug brokers. The junta grants them safe conduit and a host of special privileges. This history is now locked in a cycle of repetition. Juntas. Militias. Drugs. War. Will it ever end? Pho Thar Aung is a Burmese writer living in exile.