Myanmar’s generals face growing protests against their coup
Many demonstrators fear a violent crackdownIT WAS DIFFICULT to hear the commander-in-chief over the din. Every night since the army toppled Myanmar’s civilian government on February 1st, people all over the country have banged pots and pans at 8pm, turning a traditional ritual to cast out evil spirits into a political protest. On February 8th, at 8pm, the head ghoul made his first televised address since the coup. Those who were not drumming kitchenware or slapping the image of the general on their TV screens with their slippers would have heard Min Aung Hlaing trying to reassure the public and investors. He announced that there would be no change in government policy and reiterated his pledge to hold elections after a year. His interim government would be “different”, he pledged, from the oppressive junta which had preceded Myanmar’s ten-year experiment with democracy.His audience is not convinced. Just hours earlier the army’s Orwellian “True News Information Team” had issued a statement warning the public that action would be taken against “wrongdoers” who “disrupt the state’s stability”. But its pleas for “discipline” are falling on deaf ears. Tens of thousands of Burmese have thronged the streets in cities big and small, day after day, since February 6th, in what is Myanmar’s biggest protest movement in a generation. They are clamouring for the release of Aung San Suu Kyi, the leader of the National League for Democracy (NLD), which was about to begin its second term in government when the army struck. To justify the coup, the army contends that the election in November that confirmed the NLD in power was marred by “terrible” fraud—a claim for which it has produced no evidence.Many of the demonstrations have the air of a carnival. On February 10th young women paraded around central Yangon wearing Disney princess outfits. Another group carried a coffin bearing a picture of the commander-in-chief. Silly placards, many full of obscenities, abounded. Shops have sold out of balloons in the NLD’s trademark red.Yet a current of foreboding is charging the atmosphere. The previous junta crushed dissent ruthlessly. Htay Win, who runs a tea shop in Yangon, took part in protests in 1988 and 2007. Both times the army shot into crowds of protesters, killing hundreds. “I think 100% that the military is going to crack down on us very soon,” he says.General Min Aung Hlaing’s assurances notwithstanding, agents from the feared intelligence service are knocking on doors, prompting many activists and journalists to go into hiding. Some 190 people have been arrested, according to the Assistance Association for Political Prisoners, a human-rights group. Ninety districts, including all of Yangon, the largest city, and much of Naypyidaw, the capital, imposed curfews and restricted gatherings to no more than five people, in effect criminalising public assembly.The authorities have also begun trying to disperse the protests. In cities across the country police have fired tear gas, water cannon and rubber bullets into crowds. According to state television, some 2,000 protesters in Mandalay threw bricks and bottles at police; videos on social media showed officers beating people with truncheons. Three protesters are being treated for wounds from rubber bullets. Two people in Naypyidaw were shot with what seems to have been live ammunition; one, Mya Thwe Thwe Khine, is on life support.So far, the protesters seem undeterred. Their numbers are swelling with people from all walks of life: teenagers, labourers and professionals. Teachers, firefighters and health workers across the country are on strike. Civil servants are reportedly resigning en masse, among them the entire staff of the Ministry of Welfare. On February 10th a handful of officers from the police force, which is under the command of the army, broke ranks and joined the protesters. The next day, dozens of police officers from Kayah state declared their opposition to the coup.General Min Aung Hlaing may “hope the protests exhaust themselves” and that Burmese “settle for less than what they’re demanding right now”, says Aaron Connelly of the International Institute for Strategic Studies, a think-tank in Singapore. But with mass resignations roiling the bureaucracy and some foreign businesses leaving the country, “it is very difficult to see how they get back to some kind of status quo”, says Kim Jolliffe, another analyst. Younger people, in particular, are more educated, organised and connected than the last time the country was convulsed with protests, in 2007. They are unlikely to back down meekly, Mr Jolliffe thinks.In fact the coup, naturally, has hardened misgivings about the army. Esther Ze Naw, a 27-year-old activist, wants not only a return to civilian rule but also an overhaul of the constitution, which the generals wrote. “If we cannot abolish the military regime,” she says, “then full democracy will not be created.” One prominent 22-year-old activist talks of “revolution” and says if non-violent methods of protest fail, he will take up weapons. “I think Min Aung Hlaing expected this coup to be a fait accompli,” says Mr Connelly. “It’s not been that at all.”