Insight Myanmar

Episode #405: “Myanmar deserves better,” reflects Olle Thorell, a Swedish Member of Parliament whose nearly two-decade commitment to the nation is both political and personal. Elected to the Riksdag in 2006, Thorell's focus on Asian affairs quickly centered on Myanmar. He learned from dedicated activists and, in 2011, had a clandestine meeting with Aung San Suu Kyi, a moment he recalls as “fantastic;” albeit, goes on to acknowledge that this occurred before what her later fall from grace in international relations. Part of Thorell’s vision as a member of the Swedish Parliament’s Foreign Affairs Committee is for Sweden to fill the global leadership vacuum, challenge the junta’s legitimacy, and help create a democratic, federal Myanmar. Thorell's early life inspired his resolve. A working-class upbringing instilled a sense of collective responsibility. His formative teenage years spent in apartheid-era South Africa cemented a lifelong dedication to human rights, teaching him firsthand the kind of society created when prejudice and racism is given free reign. Later, as a Swedish language teacher to Balkan refugees, he honed diplomatic skills, witnessing “what happens when a country falls apart, when there is a division among neighbors and friends.” During Myanmar’s democratic opening (2015-2020), he was inspired by citizens printing newspapers by hand but disturbed by child labor in textile factories. These contrasts solidified his belief in the necessity of international solidarity. Thorell is proud of Sweden's historic role in human rights, grounded in the Social Democratic principle of global solidarity, in contrast to rising nationalism. Despite no direct ties, he affirms that Myanmar must remain a focus for Sweden, seen as “the last bastion of military rule where we feel we need to help out.” While lamenting a global shift towards narrow self-interest and nationalism, Thorell remains optimistic. “Liberal values and values of democracy and human rights are impossible to quench in the long run,” he says in closing.

Episode #404: Before the coup, Pandora was a tour guide with little interest in politics. That changed in 2021, when the generals seized power and she found herself leading protests in her hometown of Bago. Arrests of friends and pressure from her family to stop pushed her into the jungle, where she joined the People’s Defense Forces. Life there meant leaking tents, beans and noodles for every meal, and complete separation from her family, whom she has not seen since. In September 2021 she entered PDF training with over 200 recruits, just 13 of them women. After a month of basics she had to choose a specialty—commando, mining, or sniper. She picked sniper, unwilling to face mines or close combat. Yet she had never held a weapon before, and the first time she raised a pistol, she shook so badly she thought she could not fire— and even still, her very first shot hit the target! Soon she was handling M4s and M16s, building strength by running the camp with the rifle on her back until her arms no longer trembled. Her precision earned her a place in advanced sniper training, where she was the only woman among 12 trainees. Sniping required both patience and calculation. Pandora trained as a spotter, paired with her partner—and boyfriend— who fired the shots. She learned to measure distance, wind speed, and target movement, ideally with ten minutes to prepare but sometimes with only seconds. Operations could demand lying in wait for days, even a week, hidden in brush or high ground, ready to strike within a kilometer. At times she shook with nerves, yet discipline and teamwork carried her through. Though she rarely pulled the trigger herself, the memories still haunt her. Nightmares of soldiers appear when she tries to sleep. Eventually she left the front line, but not the revolution. In Mae Sot she now runs a clothing brand, Rise and Shine, and also teaches sewing to survivors of gender violence. Pandora now studies politics, determined to empower women and fight for a democratic Myanmar.

Episode #403: Annai had always been attracted to spirituality. Growing up in a devout Catholic family in Barcelona, she preferred spending time in church while her friends only wanted to watch TV, and even began asking how she could one day become a Catholic nun. Eventually she found her way to Dhamma Neru, a vipassana meditation center in Spain the tradition of S.N. Goenka. She found the course extremely difficult and cried every day. However, in the end, she realized this was a path she wanted to dedicate herself to, and so decided to venture to India, where she took the 8-month Pāḷi course offered at Dhamma Giri. After the Pāḷi course, Annai happened to meet Venerable Canda, who told her about her teacher The Phyu Taw Ya Sayadaw in Burma. Playing his chanting for Annai, she was deeply moved and felt compelled to travel to Myanmar to meet him. Annai meditated at the Yangon-based monastery for five months—even drawing inspiration from Webu Sayadaw and foregoing sleep. Seeing her progress, the Sayadaw gave her permission to meditate for long periods under a large tree in the forest. Annai was also fascinated hearing her Sayadaw’s stories about practicing in Maha Myaing Forest near the Indian border, where he had a branch monastery. Yet there were many obstacles in her being able to go here, as women were rarely allowed remote practice possibilities, and foreigners weren’t even allowed in this part of the country. But somehow Annai was able to break through this red tape, and reaching the forest, took a vow of silence for one year. Still, it was a totally new experience for her, from snakes in her kuti, to armies of termites, to hearing the sound of elephants in the distance, to the playful monkeys. Moreover, whether large or small, each wild animal and insect was a possible threat, and there were spirits in the forest as well, but Annai soon realized that the best way to confront them all was to develop stronger mettā. Eventually, after six years in total in Myanmar, Annai returned to Spain, where she planned to re-engage with the vipassana community of S.N. Goenka. Although she had pursued a rather diverse meditative experience, she always felt close to her first real teacher. Yet Annai found her deep meditation practice put her at odds with the tradition’s guidelines, and so instead decided to develop a monastery which could support yogis in the dynamic, varied kinds of ways she, herself, had experienced in Myanmar. This led to the establishment of Sarana Vihara near the Montseny National Park, outside of Barcelona. She decided that if people there could not go to Myanmar, she would bring some part of Myanmar to them. Of course, her strong memories of her time in Myanmar continue to inspire her current work. “It was overwhelming: the generosity, the care, the support of the people [there].”

Episode #402: “In stable times, sustainability may be seen as a long term aspiration,” says Tin Shine Aung, a Burmese scholar and sustainability expert whose work bridges research, policy, and on-the-ground crisis response. “But in our context, in the context of a polycrisis, it’s become like a strategy for survival and reconstruction.” Arguing that Myanmar is living through a true polycrisis— multiple shocks that collide and amplify each other rather than simply add up— Tin Shine Aung points out that this demands treating sustainability not as a later luxury but as a present survival and reconstruction strategy. He rejects the idea of “waiting until after the war,” noting that disasters and social-economic collapses do not pause for politics, so governance must integrate sustainability now across environmental, social, and economic pillars. Tin Shine Aung threads a timeline to show how system fragility accumulated: the 2007 fuel-price crisis and Saffron Revolution exposed cracks; in 2008, Cyclone Nargis devastated the delta and the junta nonetheless pushed a constitutional referendum, claiming “over 90%” approval while many communities were still reeling. The 2010s brought ethnoreligious nationalism and political accommodation to it: Muslim candidates were excluded from the NLD’s 2015 lists, producing the first Muslim-free legislature since independence, and in January 2017 constitutional lawyer U Ko Ni— closely associated with State Counsellor design— was assassinated at Yangon’s airport broad daylight. Here Tin Shine Aung contrasts Myanmar’s breakdown with Ukraine to illustrate what makes a polycrisis: in Myanmar, systems across governance, economy, and social services have simultaneously failed and safe exit pathways are scarce. Economically, factories in major cities often get only “two to three hours a day” of grid power, forcing costly generators; more than a million workers have lost jobs; basics like cooking oil have tripled versus pre-coup; sanctions intended for elites cascade down the economy; new U.S. tariffs of about 40% on some categories and military conscription further squeeze the garment sector and labor supply. And yet, despite state failure and natural disasters, even now, grassroots actors are improvising underground schooling, digital classrooms and alternative universities, and turning to small-scale renewables— evidence that sustainability thinking is already alive on the ground! Tin Shine Aung urges international partners to scale such local initiatives and design sanctions, tariffs, and aid logistics to avoid worsening multiplier effects. “Even in the polycrisis,” he says, “our Burmese people are quietly laying the foundation for the sustainable future.”

Episode #401: “Look at my eye. Trust me! You can do this!” With steady assurance, Nay Chi Linn describes her work at the Sunshine Care Center (SCC), a border-based facility she founded to care for Myanmar’s war-injured. Located on the Thai side of the border, the SCC provides daily care, physiotherapy, rehabilitation, and emotional support. Nay Chi Linn was raised in Yangon and studied law before moving to Chiang Mai for further study. There, she met an ethnic Karen man and got married; the couple lived in a refugee camp with his family for two years before moving out, but staying nearby on the Thai side of the border. After the 2021 coup, she started financially supporting civil servants and protesters, but Myanmar authorities began investigating her, and were able to trace a bank transfer. Warned of the imminent danger of being detained, she fled to her in-laws’ house in the Karen-controlled town of Lay Kaw Kaw. There, in the chaos of displacement after the coup, she began helping people fleeing the regime or displaced by fighting with food, shelter, supplies and health needs; over time, the needs grew and her improvisations became more systematized, laying the foundations for what would become the SCC, which she opened after moving back into Thailand. Nay Chi Linn works with patients with a blend of firmness and empathy— what she calls the “energy of mom.” She allows the initial anger, fear and frustration of patients facing their challenging situations to wash over her, and then urges them to focus on what they have left and take responsibility for their recovery, for their families’ and even their country’s sake. The SCC is a demanding ecosystem of care that rests on routine, discipline, and morale. The busy, involved day starts early and ends late: medical teams check lists and send those with appointments to hospitals; logistics drives runs back and forth all day; evenings bring pickups and resets for the next day. Within those routines, the work itself is often improvisational and pressured. Amid this challenging, sometimes chaotic environment, Nay Chi Linn is always there for the people in her care. “I have no time to cry!” she exclaims about her workday. Still, she admits that she sometimes breaks down in private afterwards, yet still finds a way to keep going.

Episode #400: James Rodehaver, head of the UN Human Rights Office on Myanmar, offers a sobering account of the country’s accelerating crisis and the limits of the international community’s response. Drawing on decades of experience in conflict zones, he describes Myanmar as uniquely complex and heartbreakingly violent—particularly since the 2021 coup. His office, which operates from outside the country due to lack of access, monitors rights violations, advises UN agencies, and supports civil society efforts. Rodehaver acknowledges that some UN agencies do engage with the junta to secure humanitarian access, and says the anger this provokes among the Burmese public is entirely justified. But he stresses that discreet coordination also occurs with resistance actors, including the National Unity Government and ethnic armed organizations, though these relationships are often kept quiet to protect humanitarian operations. According to Rodehaver, 2024 was the deadliest year yet, with nearly 2,000 verified civilian deaths—most caused by indiscriminate airstrikes and heavy weaponry used by the military. Since the coup, over 6,300 civilians have been confirmed killed, amid spiraling displacement, economic collapse, and growing food insecurity. He warns that recent cuts in international aid are crippling essential services and shrinking civic space. Part of the problem, he admits, is a failure to tell the full story of Myanmar’s suffering and resilience—a failure he takes partial responsibility for. Despite limited staff and access, his team continues to support civil society, provide training in international humanitarian law, and promote protection strategies for at-risk communities. Ultimately, Rodehaver returns to the principle that guides his work: empathy. “We pick the side of the victims,” he says, and draws strength from the courage and endurance of the Myanmar people.

Episode #399: Insight Myanmar was very fortunate to conduct a series of interviews with Friedgard Lottermoser between 2023 and 2024, amounting to more than forty hours before she sadly passed away last year. Friedgard was one of the few non-Burmese who could speak about the experience of meditating extensively with Sayagyi U Ba Khin, life at the International Meditation Center (IMC), and what it was like to live in Burma at a crucial period of its modern history. In this episode, she explains how she survived the July 7, 1962 student massacre by chance, spending the weekend meditating at IMC instead of joining the demonstrations at Rangoon University. “After meditating for several hours, I heard a huge boom, like thunder,” she says. “I thought it was just the continuation of a long thunderstorm, but it was the military blowing up the Student Union building!” She also speaks about her stepfather’s work with the German firm Fritz Werner, the state-owned company that helped establish Burma’s arms industry in the late 1950s and licensed local production of G3 rifles. These weapons, which became standard issue for the Burmese army, were later turned against students in 1962 and again during the 1988 uprising. For Friedgard, this connection adds a painful irony to her memories, as the same rifles linked to her family’s presence in Burma were used to silence the very voices of democracy she might have joined that day. Her reflections often circle back to meditation, which she saw as both refuge and compass. “Of course, I listened to what U Ba Khin said, but it was reinforced by my personal perception through the development of Vipassana meditation. That is why, actually, I followed it up in these early days.” For Friedgard, meditation was not just practice but the thread that allowed her to endure, make sense of, and carry forward the experiences of those turbulent years.

Episode #398: The Telenor scandal has emerged as one of the most serious blows to Norway’s reputation as a champion of peace and human rights. Nicolai Prydz, author and long-time observer of Myanmar, calls it “the largest scandal in Norway, but it’s under the carpet. Nobody wants to tell it.” When Telenor entered Myanmar in 2014, only 7% of the population owned a mobile phone. Backed by Norway’s decision to lift sanctions and forgive $3 billion in debt, the company quickly expanded to more than 20 million users and generated hundreds of millions in annual profits. Norwegian politicians hailed it as a model of how business could support democracy. But Prydz stresses the transition was never real. The 2008 constitution guaranteed the military permanent power. Ordinary people, however, placed their trust in Telenor, associating it with Norway’s peace reputation. That trust was betrayed after the February 2021 coup. The junta demanded sensitive telecom data— locations, call records, contact lists— of activists and opposition leaders. Myanmar Now reported Telenor complied over 200 times. Prydz is blunt: “Of course, you don’t come back the 20th or 21st time if it’s not of any use!” When challenged, Telenor never denied its cooperation, claiming refusal would endanger staff. The company also left intact surveillance equipment capable of monitoring networks nationwide. In 2022, Telenor sold its Myanmar operations to Lebanon’s M1 Group and Shwe Byain Phyu, a conglomerate tied to the military, effectively transferring the data of 20 million users to the junta’s allies. Norwegian judge Hanne Sophie Greve has warned that Norway and Telenor could be complicit in crimes against humanity. For Prydz, the story is personal: his friend Ko Jimmy, the democracy activist he met in 2012, used a Telenor SIM until his arrest and execution in 2022. “The reason why I wrote my book is because I love my country,” Prydz says. He demands Norway face its complicity, investigate fully, and repair the damage, instead of sweeping the truth under the carpet.

Episode #397: In this episode of the Insight Myanmar Podcast, two compelling voices—Thinzar Shunlei Yi and Wongpun Amarinthewa—illuminate the stakes of Myanmar’s political crisis from the frontlines of resistance and reporting. Thinzar Shunlei Yi, a prominent Burmese activist and deputy director of the Anti-Sham Election Campaign Committee, lays out a forceful case against the junta’s proposed elections. Far from representing democratic progress, she sees them as a calculated maneuver to legitimize the military’s grip on power. These elections, rooted in the discredited 2008 Constitution, are framed as part of a broader strategy to escape accountability and sustain authoritarian rule under the veneer of civilian governance. “The 2008 Constitution was also another coup,” she asserts, “[that was executed] in the name of democracy.” Her coalition, which includes civil society actors and ethnic political parties, has already moved beyond the junta’s framework, pursuing a revolutionary roadmap to draft an inclusive federal democratic constitution from the ground up. Speaking to the international community, she warns that continued reference to the 2008 Constitution risks legitimizing a system that has failed time and again to protect Myanmar’s people or bring about real change. Wongpun Amarinthewa, a Thai journalist, brings a parallel perspective from across the border. He reflects on his reporting trips to refugee camps along the Thai-Myanmar border, where the trauma of displacement—especially among children—left a lasting emotional mark. His work underscores the human toll of the conflict and the widespread lack of awareness among the Thai public, which is exacerbated by government restrictions, media indifference, and nationalist sentiment. Despite the obstacles, Wongpun remains committed to telling these stories, emphasizing the urgent need for deeper regional awareness and cross-border solidarity. “As a media [worker], it’s my responsibility to let the public know what’s really happening along the border of Thailand,” he says.

Episode #396: “There is no other issue in Thailand that has this long of a history of civil society engagement like Myanmar.” With these words, Thai humanitarian worker and activist, Mic Chawaratt, discusses the decades-long relationship between Thailand and Myanmar regarding displacement, refugee management, and civil society aid. He traces Thailand’s security-driven approach to Myanmar refugees from the 1980s to today. Despite not signing the 1951 Refugee Convention, Thailand has hosted large populations displaced by conflict and political repression, though often without offering any legal recognition. He notes how the official response has been spotty, and Thai civil society, not the government, has largely shouldered the responsibility, building what Mic calls a “parallel system” of humanitarian care. After the 2021 coup, this system has been tested further by surging refugee numbers and increased repression. He criticizes Thailand’s “proxy diplomacy,” which masks quiet support for the junta while sidelining the National Unity Government. ASEAN, too, comes under fire for its inaction. Meanwhile, new crises—such as scam centers exploiting vulnerable migrants—intersect with old ones, creating deeper humanitarian challenges. In closing, Mic takes a bird’s eye view of the challenge, calling for a shift from emergency response to long-term infrastructure: education, healthcare, and legal protections. He also stresses the need for humanitarian organizations to listen to the refugees’ own voices and safeguard their rights while highlighting the reality of burnout and donor fatigue. And as Thai politics shift rightward, he urges vigilance to protect civil society space and regional solidarity. “The story of Myanmar is also the story of Thailand,” he concludes. “We cannot separate them. Our futures are bound together.”

Episode #395: Laetitia van den Assum, a Dutch diplomat and former ambassador to Thailand, was one of nine members of the Advisory Commission on Rakhine State, a group set up in 2016 at Aung San Suu Kyi’s request and chaired by former UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan. Its mandate was to improve conditions in one of Myanmar’s poorest and most divided regions. In this conversation, van den Assum reflects on the Commission’s work, her dealings with Annan and Min Aung Hlaing, and the enduring challenges of Rakhine. From the outset, the military opposed the Commission because it had been established without their consent, and Min Aung Hlaing tried to push Parliament to expel the foreign members. But as van den Assum notes, “he could not stop us,” since the 25 percent of seats reserved for the military under the 2008 constitution was insufficient to block the process. Building trust among local communities was another hurdle-- the Commission had to prove that it represented everyone, not only the Rohingya. In August 2017, the Commission released its final report, containing 88 recommendations focused on peace, development, and human rights. The very next day, ARSA launched attacks on police posts, and the military retaliated with sweeping operations that drove 750,000 Rohingya into Bangladesh. Van den Assum believes these plans were already in place, describing the scale of violence as shocking but not unexpected. She continues to stress the report’s lessons. Citizenship remains central: without reform of the 1982 law that excluded the Rohingya and many others, genuine progress is impossible. Long-term planning also requires accurate population data, as nearly a million people were left uncounted in the 2014 census. Looking at Myanmar today, van den Assum sees fragmentation across the country and insists that peace must precede development and rights. Calling for pragmatic international support, she warns that Myanmar cannot rely on foreign aid indefinitely and must become more self-sufficient. Yet her appreciation for the resistance effort is unwavering: “My admiration knows no bounds for those continuing to fight for their self-determination. They don’t see a way back. There’s only a way forward.”

Episode #394: Sandar, an ethnographer and documentary photographer, dedicated her life to understanding Myanmar’s diverse cultures. Before the coup, she conducted extensive research in ethnic territories, particularly in Kachin, documenting their struggles and traditions. However, when the military seized power, her ability to continue fieldwork was shattered. Facing restrictions and violence, she joined mass protests in Yangon, capturing the resistance movement as it first emerged onto the scene. As the military began to target anyone so much as holding a camera, she realized the dangers of remaining in the city, and sought another way to contribute. Sandar decided to relocate to Karenni, one of the first states to systematically resist the coup. There, she witnessed the destruction caused by military offensives and joined displaced medical workers, documenting their efforts. Later, she immersed herself in a Karenni military training camp for three months, observing how ordinary individuals transformed into resistance fighters. Her time there fundamentally changed her understanding of Myanmar’s ethnic struggles, shifting her from an external observer to an active participant. Living in the jungle, she adapted to harsh conditions, learning survival skills and embedding herself in Karenni society. Recognizing the lack of education for displaced youth, she established an alternative school, later expanding it into a social studies diploma program. Despite repeated attacks forcing relocation, she remained committed to education as a form of resistance. Through her documentary work, Sandar highlights the resilience of Karenni civilians, and in so doing, challenges top-down peace efforts that ignore lived realities. She emphasizes that genuine solidarity comes from direct engagement. For her, the revolution is not just about fighting the military but reshaping Myanmar’s social fabric, because real change must come from the ground up.

Episode #393: “It’s now time to be more principled and say that, ‘We would like to support democracy.’” With this statement, Audun Aagre, former head of the Norwegian Burma Committee (NBC), distills three decades of Norway’s involvement in Myanmar into a call for credibility and purpose. Aagre’s own engagement with Myanmar began in the early 1990s, when Burmese exiles in Norway trained as journalists with the Democratic Voice of Burma (DVB). Witnessing their dedication inspired him to travel to the Thai–Myanmar border, and later help form a Burma support group back home. He was eventually tapped to lead the Norwegian Burma Committee (NBC), an advocacy group supporting Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD’s opposition to the military. Under Aagre’s leadership, NBC was broadened to include building political party capacity and working with civil society across ethnic lines. While Norway’s policy was pro-democracy early on, it shifted during the Thein Sein era. Norwegian diplomats began to argue the generals had seen the light and were more popular than Aung San Suu Kyi— a view Aagre dismissed as fantasy. Norway launched the Myanmar Peace Support Initiative (MPSI), which emphasized short-term “peace dividends” like development projects, but failed to address structural issues of federalism and military control, and seemed to back the military’s approach. The trust his country had built with democratic forces in Myanmar for decades all but collapsed. The Rohingya crisis then revealed the futility of believing cooperation with the military could ever be compatible with human rights. Meanwhile, business entanglements further eroded Norway’s credibility. Telenor, once a symbol of empowerment as cheap SIM cards and internet spread across Myanmar, soon collided with the junta’s demands for surveillance data. Forced into compliance, it eventually sold its operations—only to see sensitive information handed straight to military-linked companies. Energy ventures like SN Power’s dam project and Statoil’s offshore contracts followed the same pattern, funneling resources into conflict zones and, ultimately, into the generals’ coffers. For Aagre, the lesson is clear: Norway must stand firmly for democracy, not realpolitik. Otherwise, compromise and “trickle-down” strategies only undermine the very struggles they aim to support. The warning resonates now, as democracies everywhere face pressure from rising authoritarianism and strategic disinformation. “If the military was able to turn Norway, then you can turn any country in the world. The symbolism of turning Norway was very high.”

Episode #392: Landmines and explosive remnants of war are taking a devastating toll on civilians, as armed groups on many sides continue to use the deadly and indiscriminate weapons. Mine Free Myanmar, a country-focused campaign of the International Campaign to Ban Landmines, runs an annual art contest documenting survivors’ stories and the ever-present threat experienced by communities. The contest, now in its third year, attracts submissions from both adults and children, opening a window on survivors’ experiences. One woman who was injured while fetching water was later abandoned by her husband because she was disabled. Last year’s prize winner from Rakhine State shows a boy playing football who runs into a mine in front of the village signboard. From anecdotal evidence, including survivor stories collected by volunteers, there was a surge in landmine incidents following Operation 1027 launched by several EAOs in October 2023. The most recent Landmine Monitor report published in November 2024 concluded that Myanmar suffered the most recorded casualties from landmine and explosive remnants of war of any country in the world in 2023. The campaign’s nationwide coordinator, who spoke to Insight Myanmar under the pseudonym of Webster, believes many incidents go unreported. “We just collect the impact stories of those who survived. There are many people who are being killed by the landmines in the community.” The role of the international community, he says, is to support multilateral engagement and advocacy to make that ban a reality, although he admits that amid the immediate conflict, reductions in landmine use and more awareness by armed actors might be the best that can be hoped. In the meantime, Webster urges international partners providing victim assistance to focus not just on the immediate injuries and provision of prostheses, to encompass the reality of a person’s life after an injury and the need for vocational training and sustainable livelihoods. “If we don’t talk about banning landmines, we have to support the survivor every decade, every generation,” Webster says. “It will never end.”

Episode #391: A key figure at Article 19 for the Asia Pacific region, Lana exposes a dilemma: the tense dynamic between an accelerating tech industry and authoritarian governments' increasing digital control. Lana's background informs her examination of how tech operations affect human rights in countries such as Myanmar, Vietnam, and China. Authorities in oppressive Asian nations are increasingly delegating enforcement of their restrictive policies to private tech firms. In Myanmar, post-2021 coup, new legislation forces telecom and IT companies to comply with the cybersecurity law. Lana clarifies that Myanmar's military isn't just removing content directly; it's using laws to transfer censorship and surveillance responsibilities to the tech sector. This puts companies in an untenable position, forced to obey unconstitutional mandates while operating in a worsening economy, with internet shutdowns and conflict further complicating matters. There is also the inconsistent nature of content moderation. She suggests moderation policies often reflect “public opinion in Western countries and public pressure,” rather than consistent ethics. Moreover, weak or absent data protection laws leave users vulnerable, enabling companies to collect vast amounts of information. Despite these hurdles, Lana stresses civil society's essential role in ensuring digital rights. She advocates for a human rights-first approach, urging companies to conduct thorough impact assessments. “We want the private sector to be more transparent and responsive when things are flagged by ​​civil society, and solve those issues together without a fear of being given to their authorities,” she emphasizes. While a universal policy is impractical, international human rights standards are important. “We should not stop and do nothing as a civil society just because it's complicated,” she stresses, placing accountability on both companies and users to ensure a safe, free online environment.

Episode #390: The exhibition Fragmentation, hosted earlier this year at Bangkok Art and Culture Center and co-organized by SEA Junction and A New Burma, presented haunting photographs of displaced teachers and students in Karenni State, capturing both devastation and resilience in the midst of war. Through a series of interviews, curators and participants reflected on the deeper meanings of these images. Tim, the co-curator and graphic designer, explained the deliberate effort to avoid sensationalizing suffering, instead showing both the grief of loss and the ordinariness of children still learning. He recalls how the sound of school bells had come to double as an airstrike siren, a chilling metaphor for the normalization of fear. Nicola Edwards, an education researcher, highlights how schools and health facilities have become deliberate military targets. Yet she notes that this destruction has catalyzed new, community-driven education systems, from jungle classrooms to mother-tongue curricula, where untrained but dedicated volunteers sustain children’s learning and safety. Patrick, a frontline doctor in Karenni, describes the direct targeting of hospitals and the horrific injuries he treats daily, many of them children. Though he has survived airstrikes and seen atrocities firsthand, he emphasized solidarity among medical workers and the determination to continue serving despite trauma. Mya Hein, a Muslim student unionist, reflects on his political awakening, the discrimination he faced, and how the revolution has brought fleeting moments of solidarity alongside lingering structural inequalities. He urged that minority rights must be central to any genuine future for Myanmar. Finally, artist and organizer MCP spoke of the revolution’s impact on art, where creativity has become both a tool of survival and a means of political dialogue. For him, art conveys truths and emotions beyond statistics, keeping Myanmar’s suffering—and hope—visible to the world. Together, their voices reveal a portrait of education, health, identity, and creativity as intertwined acts of resistance.

Episode #389: Mie Mie Wynn Bird, a retired U.S. Army officer and defense strategist runs leadership and capacity-building workshops for Myanmar’s pro-democracy movement. In this episode, she argues that morale—and not weapons or resources—is the decisive factor in war. She is guided by this principle: “people first, mission always”: leaders must train, protect, and respect their teams while keeping the mission in focus, building trust that cannot be fabricated in crisis. In Myanmar, morale among the resistance groups continues to be high, with the people believing they are fighting for a righteous cause. In contrast, the morale of the military’s conscripts deteriorates by the day, and a vibrant Burmese-language media ecosystem also mocks and undermines the regime, boosting opposition confidence. She estimates the junta holds just 20% of the country despite the huge material and weapons imbalances in its favor. Mie Mie Wynn Bird also highlights language use as part of the struggle. She calls out Western media for framing the struggle in “both sides” platitudes, and for using words that distort perception of the conflict, like “insurgents” instead of “revolutionary forces.” She urges the international community to frame the resistance in Myanmar as a story of ingenuity and determination, because winning the narrative is part of sustaining morale. Praising the diaspora’s critical and selfless contributions, which further boosts morale, she notes that the increased participation of women in all facets of the struggle does as well, as diversity strengthens problem-solving and resilience. She does, however, note the beginnings of a decline in women’s participation because of lingering cultural norms, which she views as both avoidable but also harmful to the cause. In the end, Mie Mie Wynn Bird says, “The Myanmar story is not a story of victims. It is a story of ingenuity, adaptability, and determination.”

Episode #388: “Every day in Myanmar, people are living in constant fear, fear of air strike, fear of artillery, fear of arbitrary arrest, fear of extra judicial killing. As long as the military is in power, the country will not be in peace,” says Alex, a Burmese activist-in-exile about Myanmar's brutal reality under military rule. His believes that the military’s planned, upcoming elections are in his words “a sham,” just a strategy to consolidate power and a deceptive charade to gain international legitimacy. Because they already hold 25% of the Parliamentary seats under the fraudulent 2008 Constitution, which sets the minimum limit of 33% of the total seats as the threshold for being able to form a government, they just need 8% more. This leads Alex to conclude that the junta will easily be able to manipulate the results to achieve whatever outcome they want. “They are trying to lie to the world, to the country, that’s what they have been doing since day one.” The second guest is Wunna, and he describes how on the morning of February 1, 2021, he recalls an eerie silence. The internet was down and phone lines had been cut. Wunna and a friend drove to Naypyidaw to see what was happening – they observed MPs being held under house arrest, guarded by soldiers. “I couldn’t even describe how I felt that day. It was really powerless and hopeless on the first day.” This direct experience at Ground Zero propelled him into action. He joined the Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM), arranging safe houses and transportation for civil servants. But his bank account was subsequently frozen, and the escalating risk finally forced him to reluctantly make the agonizing decision to leave Myanmar, joining countless exiles. Despite his personal sacrifice, Wunna clings to a powerful conviction. He believes the revolution, built from nothing, still has the opportunity to prevail. To avoid despair, he just focuses on what is within his power to do. He acknowledges international skepticism to the resistance but affirms its strength. He advocates for constructive criticism, but says that it should be accompanied by practical suggestions, and not just empty theorizing. His final message is a call to global solidarity: “I just want to request, be part of our history in defending and nurturing democracy.”

Episode #387: “I think vipassana has always been a response to crisis, not just a quest for spiritual purity,” says Gustaaf Houtman, anthropologist and author of Traditions of Buddhist Practice in Burma and Mental Culture in Burmese Crisis Politics. Drawing on decades of research and immersion in the culture, Houtman connects meditation, language, politics, and cultural history, revealing a view of Burma’s Buddhist traditions that resists Western simplifications. Houtman contrasts Western notions of religion—rooted in belief in abstract doctrines and separated from culture—with the Burmese concept of sāsana, the Buddha’s dispensation, which is integrally embedded in historical and social life. He juxtaposes sāsana with bodha-batha, a term coined by the 19th century American missionary Adoniram Judson, which reframed Buddhism as a belief-based “-ism,” comparable to Christianity. This, Houtman argues, was not simply linguistic but ideological as well. In response, Burmese reformers emphasized Pāḷi terms like sāsana to defend Buddhism’s historical and cultural depth, turning language into “a site of resistance” against Western cultural hegemony. This framework illuminates the importance of lineage in Burmese meditation. Unlike monastic ordination, which is formally documented, meditation instruction is informal and personal, requiring validation from respected teachers— and it rarely goes in a straight line. U Ba Khin’s reliance on Webu Sayadaw’s endorsement exemplifies how Burmese meditation culture depends on networks of trust and recognition. Houtman contrasts this complexity with S. N. Goenka’s simplified lineage narrative, which, while pedagogically effective, erases the historical crises— British colonialism, military dictatorship, and cultural reform— that gave rise to vipassana. He links this history to Ledi Sayadaw, whose reforms empowered laypeople to sustain Buddhism during colonial rule, paving the way for later teachers like Mahasi Sayadaw and U Ba Khin. Meditation in Burma, Houtman emphasizes, has long been entwined with social and cultural life, politics, and survival, and is a source of cultural pride. Today, he supports exiled Burmese scholars through what he calls “academic activism,” insisting that understanding Burma requires joining its ongoing historical struggle. “If you stay with it, you will be drawn in. And if you’re drawn in, you stay for the long haul.”

Episode #386: Maw Htun, Deputy Minister for Electricity and Energy in Myanmar's National Unity Government (NUG), has navigated a path defined by personal tribulation and transformation since the 2021 coup. His journey began with joining the NUG to fulfill a lifelong dream of systemic change, but was soon overshadowed by a battle with cancer. With his critical illness and having to endure a series of complex medical procedures, Maw Htun faced an existential crisis. This harrowing experience, including a miraculous recovery linked to a burgeoning meditation practice, radically reshaped his worldview and even his political outlook. Previously driven by achievements, he found a deeper humility, recognizing the fragility of life and the illusion of fixed identities. Though recognizing his Kachin and Christian identities, his experience of suffering led him to perceive social identities as “constructs,” advocating for a politics focused on shared humanity. He advocates for a federal democracy that genuinely ensures “making life better no matter who you are.” Maw Htun's role in the NUG is central to this vision. He describes the body as a legitimate government and a revolutionary force, battling resource constraints and public expectations. He asserts its essential role in rallying support and establishing defense forces, arguing that the junta's brutal aerial attacks prove “the NUG mechanism is working.” While acknowledging valid criticisms regarding efficiency and representation, he stresses the NUG's dedication to human rights and its non-static, evolving nature– a resilience that fuels his resolve to fight for a future Myanmar free from discrimination.