The Moral Divide I Can't Bridge

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, January 2017, Two Rohingya Children at an orphanage (by Laboo Studio)

I once stood, literally and figuratively, on the same side with many of them. In the wake of the Saffron Revolution, in front of the Chinese consulate in San Francisco, I added my voice to theirs to denounce the Chinese government's political cover that allowed the Burmese military regime to act with impunity. In the days when Aung San Suu Kyi was still under house arrest, I joined them to demand the release of the Lady. In the annual commemorations of the 1988 uprising, I stood alongside them in silence to mourn the anonymous heroes who gave up their lives for a glimmer of hope.

In joining the Burmese dissidents' campaigns abroad,  I felt I was, in my own humble way, standing up for the voiceless and the defenseless, for my childhood friends with whom I shared my lunch box, for my talented university classmates who were languishing under a repressive regime, for the fritter sellers, mote hingar sellers, and sidecar drivers stewing under the cruel sun.

But after 2011, as Burma's faltered transition to civilian rule began, I often found myself on the opposite side in many online and offline conversations about race and religion, particularly about the Rohingyas. The divide grew much wider after the recent outbreak of violence in Rakine.

ARSA's Attack and the Army's Response

The current crisis began with an attack on the border guard posts, police stations, and army bases by the Arakhan Rohingya Salvation Army (ARSA), a militant faction that claims to be fighting for the Rohingyas' cause. 

According to The Irrawaddy, "At least 10 police and one Myanmar Army soldier were killed in attacks ... The government statement listed the 24 locations that had come under attack -- including Koe Tan Kauk in Rathedaung, which was also attacked by militants in October 2016."

In response, the Tatmadaw, the Burmese Army, began conducting security operations in the area. The result was a mass exodus. "Some 379,000 Rohingyas have fled to Bangladesh since violence began last month. Whole villages have burned down," according to BBC.

It's not as if ARSA couldn't predict what the outcome of such an attack would be. When the group launched an earlier attack in October 2016, "the police and military initiated clearance operations in northern Rakhine State, displacing more than 70,000 Rohingya to Bangladesh, and facing allegations by international rights groups of atrocities including extrajudicial killings, torture and rape," noted The Irrawaddy's Moe Myint.

The Rohingyas are estimated to be 1.1 million-strong in Burma -- a figure that may need updating now. While they're a minority among the country's total population of 50 millions, the Rohingyas outnumber the Buddhists in certain parts of Rakhine. The local Buddhists tend to view the Rohingyas as illegal immigrants from Bangladesh. They regard the influx of Rohingya population in the region as an existential threat, the harbinger of a forthcoming separatist movement to make Rakhine into an Islamic State. The likelihood of this dreaded scenario may be debated. But it's important to acknowledge it and treat it with the sensitivity it deserves. 

Mother and child at a Bengladesh refugee camp (photo courtesy of UNHCR)

 The International Community is Biased

There are credible signs of the Burmese Army's heavy-handed approach. Amnesty International describes it as "a scorch-earth campaign that fuels ethnic cleansing." BBC's Jonathan Head, who went on a government-organized trip of the conflict zone, reported witnessing Rakhine youths setting fire to abandoned Rohingya homes. 

Online, I saw many of my Burmese friends reacting to these reports with indignation. Some decried the the mainstream press's prejudice against the Burmese. They asked: why do the western journalists always side with the Rohingyas? On Facebook, when BBC recently published satellite photos of burned villages, someone with a Burmese name demanded, "everybody can see firing [sic] on villages through google map, but who set up [sic] this fire?" Another added, "BBC liar ... there is no Rohingya on the world ... they are invader Islamic terrorists Bengalies [sic] from Bangladesh."

On Twitter, Burmese government spokesperson Zaw Htay reshared what was supposed to be photographic evidence of Rohingya villagers setting fire to their own homes. Though not directed at this specific incident, Suu Kyi's talk of "huge iceberg of misinformation" surrounding the Rohingya crisis reinforced the same line of thinking.

Photos of Bengalis setting fire to their houses! direct contact with anonymous person who took these photos by EMG : https://t.co/D8Gg4CMW5h pic.twitter.com/CoqKbHYU39

— Zaw Htay (@ZawHtayMyanmar) September 7, 2017

But it's a claim that didn't stand up to scrutiny, as BBC reported. Upon further investigation, the so-called photographic evidence of Rohingyas setting fire to their own villages turned out to be staged shots. 

As a general rule, the international media and the global community don't look favorably on governments that use ruthless tactics to suppress insurgencies; nor do they on populations that mistreat the minorities among them. Their sympathy usually rests with the downtrodden, the helpless, and the persecuted.

That's why many human rights campaigners hounded their politicians with phone calls and pestered them with petitions to boycott Burma when the generals turned their guns against the protesters in 1988. That's why many foreigners with little or no ties to Burma willingly gave up their weekends and evenings to swell the ragtag Burmese crowds in overseas protests calling for the release of the student leader Min Ko Naing, comedian Zarganar, and Daw Suu. That's why they marched alongside the exiles to denounce the Burmese security forces' crackdown of the Buddhist monks' protests in 2007. That's why they voiced their outrage when the military regime refused to allow the shipment of international aid in the aftermath of Cyclone Nargis. That bias was the reason the city of Berkeley declared August 8 "Burma Day."

In social media posts, many of my Burmese friends expressed dismay at what they viewed as the world's lack of support for their struggle against the militants, for their fight to safeguard the Buddhist way of life. Yet very few of them, I notice, bother to recognize the injustice that has fallen on the hundreds of thousands Rohingya refugees.

In almost all the reports I've seen from reputable news outfits, the ARSA's attack and the resulting casualties are clearly referenced. But due to the imbalance in scope and gravity, stories about the displaced Rohingyas tend to get a greater share of ink. As I see it, one surefire way to put the spotlight back on the Buddhist Burmese's struggles, is actually to find a way to peacefully end the Rohingya crisis. 

What Does "I Stand With Her" Mean?

As mounting criticism against the country's current leader Aung San Suu Kyi grew, I saw many of my Burmese friends switching their Facebook profiles and cover photos with the tagline "I stand with her" or "We stand with Suu Kyi." But what does it actually mean? At least in some corners, being pro-Suu Kyi seems to be synonymous with being anti-Rohingya. That, to me, is troubling. 

A pro-Suu Kyi photo with anti-Rohingya message

This week, in his opinion piece for Huffington Post, Burma Campaign UK's director Mark Farmaner pointed out, "Only One Person Can Stop Ethnic Cleansing In Myanmar, And It Isn’t Aung San Suu Ky." He directed the readers' attention to Burma's commander-in-chief Min Aung Hlaing.

The Lady's supporters should continue to explain to the world the difficult position she is in. They may mount a vigorous defense against her critics, by placing the responsibility squarely on the person who oversees the Army's activities that have caused much of the Rohingyas' miseries. 

Memes mocking Malala

It's not helpful to unleash petty, vile cyber attacks against Malala, who issued a public statement urging Suu Kyi to condemn the mistreatment of the Rohingyas. In one Facebook meme I've seen, the poster wrote, "Who is Malala? You received a Nobel Prize by being shot, by stumbling on it. You should just be content with the sponsorship you've received to study. If you pity the Bengalis who are of your kind, why don't you take them?"

Malala is a Pakistani activist, not Bengali. She was born in 1997, after the Pakistan-Bangladesh separation. It's a distinction the meme's creator doesn't seem to care. 

Race politics is complicated. Geopolitics is complicated. But decency is not. Belittling someone who was shot by terrorists is a deliberate choice -- one that's beneath the benchmark for human decency. 

Many of Suu Kyi's supporters argue the Lady's silence is a good politician's tactfulness. For me personally, it's a poor defense. I and many around the world supported her because she promised to be a great politician -- the extraordinary kind that wouldn't let political expediency overrule personal integrity. We expect run-of-the-mill, opportunistic politicians to play it safe in times of crisis; we expect great politicians to take risk and do the right thing, even if the cost is dear. I'd still like to believe Suu Kyi is the latter. I hope she proves it.

Unacceptable Collateral Damages

I'm not in favor of Rakhine becoming a separatist state governed by Sharia laws. The Burmese government is within its rights to defend itself from terrorists and militants that indiscriminately target civilians. 

But if the NLD cannot find a way to combat terrorism without terrorizing the people of an entire region, then the fledgling civilian government is doomed, because the resentment it fosters will make the disenfranchised population a fertile ground for jihadist recruitment. 

If the Burmese people can't distinguish the militants from those who happen to share the militants' ethnicity but not their sick ideology, then the peace process and the national reconciliation are hopeless. 

If the good Buddhists decide to seek mob justice against their enemies real or imagined, then they have already lost and the extremists have won.

I realize that, after publishing this post, I may have fewer friends in the Burmese community. If that's the case, so be it. I must live with that, because I haven't learned to live without a conscience.