Free All Political Prisoners Without Delay

Earlier this week the Burmese government tried to steal the show when it announced an amnesty for 6,359 prisoners. As the world watched, the prison gates duly opened on Wednesday and by the following evening it was confirmed that exactly 6,359 prisoners had been released.

But only about 200 of those who walked free were prisoners of conscience. The rest were criminals. Despite all the calls from Burma's political opposition, dissidents, ethnic groups and exiles, not to mention the international community at large, around 90 percent of Burma's political prisoners remain behind bars. Some are serving as much as 69-year sentences for the “crime” of expressing their opinions or taking part in public protests.

Aung Zaw is founder and editor of the Irrawaddy magazine. He can be reached at [email protected].

Optimism was high that the government would fulfill its promise after President Thein Sein undertook the bold—perhaps historic—decision to suspend the controversial Myitsone Dam project and went so far as raising the ire of Beijing.

However, his limited response to the emotionally charged issue of political prisoners confirms that each of Thein Sein's steps is set to be slow, cautious and carefully calculated.

Our relief for those who were released is heartfelt, and we should pay tribute to them before we turn our focus back to those who continue to languish in jails across the country.

Popular comedian Zarganar, labor rights activist Su Su Nway and Shan rebel leader Maj-Gen Sao Hso Ten were freed. We applaud them for their sacrifice and will maintain a vigilant watch that their freedom is unrestricted.

But for all Zarganar's quick-witted jokes, his social activities and his high public profile, he does not lead a political organization and is not a threat to the civilian regime’s stability.

Still behind bars are Min Ko Naing and Ko Ko Gyi, two of the organizers of the students' uprising in 1988 and the Saffron Revolution in 2007. There is no news whether these two 88 Generation Student leaders, or other similar activists, will ever be released.

The most disturbing outcome of this week's political theater was that top Burmese officials maintained their lie to the international community that Burma keeps less than 1,000 political dissidents behind bars—and the fact that those who benefit from believing this lie are still happy to buy it.

The indisputable fact is that Burma currently has somewhere around 2,000 political prisoners. The most up-to-date list posted online by the reputable Assistance Association for Political Prisoners stated (before Wednesday's amnesty) that there were 1,998 prisoners of conscience in Burma —222 of whom are Buddhist monks, and 148 of whom are women activists.

Indeed the government admitted as much in August during a meeting between Home Minister Gen. Ko Ko and the UN's special rapporteur for Burma, Tomás Ojea Quintana. According to state-run The New Light of Myanmar, Ko Ko told the UN envoy that the number of political prisoners is not more than 2,000, of whom at least 100 were jailed for drug trafficking, murder, terrorism and insurgency.

That's the problem with telling lies—you have to constantly keep track of what the “truth” is.

Since no independent organization such as the International Committee for the Red Cross has access to Burmese prisons, it is difficult to gauge exact numbers.

Nevertheless, we believe that Burma’s Home Affairs Ministry, its intelligence agencies and secret police have full and precise details of every political prisoner, since they were the ones who conducted the raids, the arbitrary arrests and interrogations of each dissident and each member of a political group. They should also have details of each bogus charge they leveled at these innocent people.

Many of the prisoners of conscience in Burma's rancid jailhouses were framed and charged with trumped-up criminal offenses. Zarganar, Min Ko Naing and Ko Ko Gyi, for example, was jailed for breaking the broadly defined “Electronics Act,” which is frequently used in Burmese courts as a catch-all clause to convict the accused for innocuous crimes such as the illicit use of cell phones, speaking to the media, communicating with exiled groups or unlawful associations, and the illegal possession of foreign currency.

The sentences for these infringements are ludicrously severe—69 years is routinely handed down by Burma's courts.