“I believe the Arakan Army can bring peace, prosperity and freedom for our people.”

As conflict drags on, women in Myanmar’s Rakhine State place their hopes in the Arakan Army

(Photo/Moe Myint)

By Kyaw Hsan Hlaing and Emily Fishbein, October,31, 2021

One night in early April, Soe Sandar lifted her two daughters into a small rowboat, holding them close as her husband pulled the oars through the still water. Their ears ringing from the artillery explosions of just hours before, they were careful not to leave a trace as they disappeared into the darkness.

Now crowded into a bamboo shelter in a community-run displacement camp in Myanmar’s westernmost Rakhine State, they are among more than 240,000 people civil society groups Estimate to have been displaced since late 2018 by fighting between the autonomy-seeking Arakan Army and Myanmar’s armed forces, known as the Tatmadaw. Since mid-November, fighting has gone quiet gone quiet as the warring parties engage in dialogue for the first time since December 2019, but the situation remains delicate, according to conflict analysts.

Soe Sandar wants peace as soon as possible. She is also among many Arakanese, also known as ethnic Rakhine, placing her trust in the Arakan Army. “I want to get the state back in our own control,” she said.

Until fleeing her village in Rakhine State’s central Ann township, Soe Sandar, 32, passed the seasons farming rice and fishing in a nearby stream, while raising her two daughters, now 7 and 4. Her life abruptly changed in January, with the arrival of Tatmadaw soldiers.

The soldiers set up camp in the school and monastery and announced a 5PM to 7AM curfew. Soe Sandar and her family retreated to a makeshift dugout next to their home, not daring to emerge even during the day, and eating only rice. “All the time, we watched the soldiers carefully, and hid to save our lives,” she said. At night, they huddled sleeplessly as artillery thundered, praying that by morning, the soldiers would be gone.

The soldiers stayed for several weeks though, and returned later in the month, staying for another two days. Even after that, life didn’t go back to normal. Nightly artillery fire continued, while jet fighters crossed the sky during the day. Villagers stopped fishing in the stream or going outside after dark, and, fearing landmines fearing landmines, stopped foraging in the hills too. Relatives phoned, advising Soe Sandar to leave.

“I wasn’t safe physically or psychologically,” she said.

“But I love my home and village, and we didn’t have money to live anywhere else, so we stayed.”

In April, as Soe Sandar and her husband sat talking, artillery fire ripped through the evening, hitting a nearby home. She gathered her children and ran to the monastery, joining others taking shelter. “I saw light all around us and felt like our eyes and ears would explode,” she said. “People were crying and praying it would stop. That night, I thought I wouldn’t be alive when the sun rose.” Soe Sandar didn’t wait to find out. At 4 AM, the family crept through the dark, boarded their rowboat, and left.

The incident cemented her hatred of the Tatmadaw. “We didn’t have arms and they bullied us with weapons,” she said. As rice runs out in the camp and the conflict drags on, she doesn’t expect the government to protect her, either. Instead, she wants to see the state governed by the Arakan Army.

The AA, established in 2009, is the latest of numerous ethnic armed organizations which have rebelled against the central government over the past seven decades. Several factors have accelerated support for the AA, but Arakanese resentment toward a government dominated by the country’s majority ethnic Bamar traces back to the Burmese empire’s eighteenth-century conquest of a prosperous Arakan kingdom on the Bay of Bengal.

While since 2011, Myanmar has undergone a political opening following a half-century of military rule, Rakhine State has been torn by violence and left underdeveloped, despite its strategic location and its offshore oil and gas reserves. As Myanmar and China move forward on multibillion-dollar deals supporting China’s Belt and Road Initiative, Rakhine remains among Myanmar’s proorest state, and large swathes lack electricity.

The state has also seen successive waves of violence over the past decade. Deadly 2012 clashes in central Rakhine between Arakanese, who are predominantly Buddhist, and Rohingya, who are predominantly Muslim, resulted in the state-sponsored confinement of more than 100,000 displaced Rohingya into camps, where they remain today. In 2017, more than 730,000 Rohingya fled northern Rakhine for Bangladesh following a Tatmadaw campaign of rape, arson and killing, for which Myanmar now faces international charges of genocide .

Historic democratic elections in 2015 saw a landslide victory for the National League for Democracy, led by Nobel Peace Prize winner Aung San Suu Kyi. But in Rakhine State, boosted by ethno-nationalism, the Arakan National Party swept most of the votes. When the NLD appointed its own member to lead the Rakhine State legislature, many Arakanese felt the ANP had been robbed of its electoral success.

Tensions intensified in January 2018 when the government cancelled a march to commemorate the fall of the Arakan Kingdom, and police opened fire on those protesting the cancellation, killing seven. Two months later, a prominent Arakanese politician received a twenty-year sentence for treason and incitement, in relation to a speech in which he accused the Bamar people of treating the Arakanese like slaves and declared his support for armed rebellion.

“The actions of the government toward Arakanese people haven’t changed when comparing the prior administration with the current one,” said civil society worker and activist Htoo Htet Naing. “Burmese leaders haven’t sufficiently tried to understand our history, values or identity.”

In January 2019, the AA launched coordinated attackson police posts in northern Rakhine. In response, the government ordered the Tatmadaw to “crush the terrorists.” Rights groups and the media have since documented indiscriminate airstrikes, landmines, arson and forced disappearances, while Radio Free Asia has counted nearly 1000 civilians killed or seriously injured.

Although the Tatmadaw has not claimed responsibility for civilian casualties, it has long attempted to deprive ethnic armed organizations of food, funds, intelligence and recruits through directly targeting civilians.

Thandar Khaing, 22, wants to join the AA to protect herself and stand with the Arakanese people -- and also, to avenge Tatmadaw violence. “If I die, I want it to be fighting against [the Tatmadaw]. I want to be proud of my death,” she said. Since 2015, when she was a university student, she has enlisted in the AA three times, but relented following her mother’s pleading. She said she plans to try again.

She joins increasing female interest in joining the AA, according to a November article in The New Humanitarian, which notes poverty, physical insecurity and experiences with military violence as key drivers.

Although fighting has not yet reached Thandar Khaing’s village in the state’s central Ponnagyun township, she said the village was being administered by the AA. In the past two years, government administrators across the state have resigned en masse, allegedly due to fears of being accused of supporting the AA.

Thandar Khaing said that until mid-November, she heard artillery fire nightly, and that Tatmadaw soldiers sometimes camped in her village. “At those times, no adult girl stayed. We fled before they arrived,” she said. “I don’t want to see any Burmese Soldiers. I really hate them.”

“At those times, no adult girl stayed. We fled before they arrived,” she said. “I don’t want to see any Burmese Soldiers. I really hate them.”

She also feels the government has neglected the Arakanese people. It has restricted internet services to more than one million people in conflict-affected areas since June 2019, allegedly as a counter-terrorism measure, and placed curbs on humanitarian access to conflict-affected areas for nearly two years.

Weeks before national elections on November 8, the government-appointed election commission cancelled voting across most of the state, citing the conflict. Although the NLD repeated its 2015 national victory, it again lost to the ANP in Rakhine State, even though voting did not occur in most ANP strongholds.

Helped by diplomatic engagement by Japan’s special envoy to Myanmar, the AA and Tatmadaw have expressed a shared interest in holding elections across the state by the end of 2020. Although this goal was not achieved, no clashes have been reported since mid-November, and the two sides have since engaged in several rounds of discussions.

On January 1, the AA released six hostages and extended a two-month unilateral ceasefire, but also mentioned it would take “decisive defensive actions” if attacked. Meanwhile, the government has not lifted a terrorist designation it placed on the AA in March, leaving the AA excluded from the Tatmadaw’s coronavirus ceasefire across the country.

Thandar Khaing said the exclusion of most of her state from voting pushed her farther from interest in electoral politics and closer to the AA. “I hope to get back our state, and for the AA to govern all aspects of our affairs,” she said. “The AA is defending our people daily and working for our people. I trust that they can govern every sector better than the Burmese government in our state.”

Hnin Phyu, 25, shares a similar faith in the AA -- and hatred of the Tatmadaw. Her husband was killed earlier this year, leaving her alone with a young child. While no one claimed responsibility for her husband’s death, his body appeared at the hospital mortuary a day after he was allegedly arrested by the Tatmadaw and police. No investigation into the death has occurred to her knowledge.

“After my husband died, all my hopes became meaningless,” she said. “I don’t know how to survive, and I am especially worried about our child’s future.”

According to a tally in October by Radio Free Asia, Hnin Phyu’s husband is among 32 people who died in custody since early 2019, with some of the bodies handed over to hospitals and police stations by the military’s interrogation center.

Hnin Phyu hopes the AA will protect and represent the Arakanese people. “I trust the AA...They are working for our people to escape from Burmese government and Tatmadaw control,” she said. “I believe the AA can bring peace, prosperity and freedom for our people.”

We have anonymized the accounts of Soe Sandar, Thandar Khaing and Hnin Phyu for their security. This article was originally commissioned by The Economist 1843 Magazine in late 2020 but cancelled after the military coup in Myanmar.

People in Parts of Myanmar Are Living Under the World's Longest Internet Shutdown. It's Putting Lives in Danger

by Kyaw Hsan Hlaing & Emily Fishbein

As conflict drags on, women in Myanmar’s Rakhine State place their hopes in the Arakan Army

“I wasn’t safe physically or psychologically,” she said.

“At those times, no adult girl stayed. We fled before they arrived,” she said. “I don’t want to see any Burmese Soldiers. I really hate them.”

“After my husband died, all my hopes became meaningless,” she said. “I don’t know how to survive, and I am especially worried about our child’s future.”

Related Articles

People in Parts of Myanmar Are Living Under the World's Longest Internet Shutdown. It's Putting Lives in Danger

For Those Displaced in Myanmar's Rakhine State, COVID Adds Another Layer of Fear

To Fight the Coronavirus, Myanmar Needs a Cease-Fire in Rakhine

Rakhine: Where the military is more feared than the coronavirus

In Myanmar’s Rakhine State, trust in armed group grows as election hopes fade

Vote cancellations trigger outrage among Myanmar minority voters

To Fight the Coronavirus, Myanmar Needs a Cease-Fire in Rakhine