For nearly a year, 40-year-old Thant Zaw Aung had been looking forward to the reopening of Shwedagon pagoda, closed since last April due to the Covid-19 pandemic. Like many others, he felt there could be no more auspicious way to welcome the return to normalcy than by paying his respects at a site that embodies Myanmar’s timeless desire for peace.
But when the long-awaited day finally came on February 8, Thant Zaw Aung and others like him stayed away. The reason for their apparent change of heart: They knew that, far from signalling the end of a crisis, the sudden decision to throw open Shwedagon’s gates marked the start of a new one.
It was exactly one week earlier that Myanmar’s military seized power in a coup that would, in the ensuing weeks and months, deal the country another deadly blow.
If allowing the devout to return to Shwedagon and other famous places of worship, such as the Mahamuni pagoda in Mandalay and the Uppatasanti pagoda in Naypyidaw, was meant as a peace offering, it failed miserably.
Outraged by the overthrow of their elected government, ordinary citizens took to the streets in huge numbers. And the military, true to form, soon dropped all pretence of caring what Myanmar’s people wanted and went on a murderous rampage.
Strangely, however, the newly installed regime still seems to believe that it can win hearts and minds by offering distractions from the mayhem it has created. Even as its campaign to crush protests claims hundreds of innocent lives, it continues to act as if there were still a point to mounting a charm offensive.
Bread and circuses
“No one is visiting Shwedagon, even though it has been reopened. You only see a few people there now, and most likely they are their people,” said Thant Zaw Aung, referring to junta officials and their families.
“Reopening the pagodas, allowing the festivals—these are all part of their tactics,” he added.
The Myanmar version of “panem et circenses”—the “bread and circuses” used to keep the masses of ancient Rome happy—may have a distinctly spiritual flavour, but it also panders to pleasure seekers.
While Thant Zaw Aung may have had his heart set on resuming his Sunday routine of meditating at Shwedagon, an even greater attraction for many are the festivals that are a livelier part of Buddhist culture in Myanmar. And foremost among them is Thingyan, the water festival that marks the start of the Buddhist New Year.
It came as no surprise, then, that on March 17, less than a month before the start of the festival, junta authorities in Mandalay announced plans to go ahead with this year’s Thingyan’s festivities in Myanmar’s second-largest city.
Cancelled last year because of the pandemic, the nearly week-long festival would normally be the highlight of the year for many in Myanmar—especially in Mandalay, a city long known for celebrating the occasion with even greater exuberance than the rest of the country.
But as the scene of some of the worst junta-inflicted violence so far, Mandalay’s mood is far from festive. This week, it witnessed the death of the regime’s youngest victim—a 7-year-old girl murdered in her family’s home. And as the atrocities show no sign of ending, its people will likely be in mourning for some time to come.
“We Mandalay residents will definitely not be celebrating Thingyan,” said one local who asked not to be named.
‘Be happy and relax’
None of this has stopped the regime from attempting to use force to restore Mandalay to its usual vibrant self. As in Yangon, it has pressured those running its main markets—Zay Cho, Diamond Plaza, Man Myanmar Plaza, and the Yadanabon market—to reopen, but with little success due to a lack of cooperation from workers.
It has also tried persuasion. On March 21, the state-run newspaper The Mirror carried an announcement from the regime urging Myanmar’s people to “Be happy and relax.”
“Myanmar people love travelling,” the announcement proclaimed, noting that there are “many places to visit and relax in Myanmar. Citizens often travel either alone or with their families during the holidays. We love to fill our life with enjoyable and happy moments.”
To do its part to fill people’s lives with enjoyable moments, the ruling military council has restarted the country’s tourism industry and is working to get travel-related businesses back to normal, the announcement added.
Everyone should take part in the country’s festivals “in accordance with Myanmar tradition and culture” and “in accordance with the laws” in order to reduce stress, it concluded.
But in a sign that the regime was less interested in the well-being of Myanmar citizens than in preserving its own wealth, The Mirror reported the next day that the junta’s travel and tourism minister, Maung Maung Ohn, had held a ceremony to reopen the tourism sector at the Azura Beach Hotel, a resort owned by the son of coup leader Min Aung Hlaing.
Workers in Chaung Thar, the Ayeyarwady region resort town where the hotel is located, have other ideas, however. According to local residents, they, too, have joined the nationwide Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM) against military rule.
Even in places where hotels have managed to find staff, another, even more insurmountable problem presents itself: a lack of people willing to travel in a country inching towards a full-blown catastrophe of the military’s making.
“They have reopened, but there are no tourists, not even domestic tourists,” said one tour guide in Bagan, speaking of situation facing hotels in one of Myanmar’s most famous destinations.
A total lack of trust
Reviving the tourism industry is hardly the biggest problem the regime faces. Much of the economy has been derailed by the CDM, which started with public sector employees and spread to include private banks and other businesses.
Education and healthcare have also come to a standstill. In mid-March, Min Aung Hlaing called for the reopening of schools, colleges and universities, despite the fact that the pandemic is still far from being under control. Even Covid-19 vaccination programs have stalled, as efforts to fight the disease have taken a back seat to a struggle that most consider more pressing.
“They are killing innocent civilians and ruling the country by force. We cannot accept anything they do. No one trusts them at all,” said Kyaw Soe, a resident of Yangon’s Lanmadaw township who has taken part in anti-coup protests.
Ever since 19-year-old Mya Thwe Thwe Khine became the first protester to be fatally shot by regime forces on February 9, restoring civilian rule has become a matter of life or death for the entire nation.
According to the Assistance Association for Political Prisoners, the death count as of March 26 has reached a total of 328 from crackdowns in towns and cities all over Myanmar. Many more have been seriously wounded, and more than 3,000 have been detained, in some cases resulting in deaths from torture in custody.
While the regime tries to convince people that it’s time to move on and learn to live with its rule, the citizens of the country remain single-minded in their determination to avoid that fate at all costs.
“We will win if we do not cooperate with the military junta and their orders,” insisted Thant Zaw Aung, the meditator who has decided that returning to Shwedagon can wait until the people’s desire for real peace is realized.
