By: George Shwe Zin, Peak Associate

Content warning: Mentions of murder, massacres, conflict, and brief mention of mutilation.

It was the last day of January, coup rumours from the previous days were dying down and I went to bed, hoping for a normal school day the next morning — as normal as the pandemic’s online classes allowed, of course. Maybe I should have savoured that night more. 

As the sun rose upon Myanmar’s capital city, armoured vehicles and trucks loaded with soldiers pulled up to the country’s parliament, where the newly-elected civilian government was gathering. Elsewhere, the power went out, internet and communication channels were cut, and everyone was literally put in the dark, dazed and confused, but with a general understanding that the military had seized control of the country once again. That night, when the power came back, the national news aired a statement by the military. In an elaborate disguise of maintaining democracy, they cited election fraud as the reason for the takeover. “In order to perform scrutiny of the voter lists and to take action, the authority of the nation. . . is handed over to the commander-in-chief,” the speech read.

That was four years ago. For four years, the Burmese military hasn’t relinquished its control over the government and oppression has been used in consolidating this control. However, much has changed since. The military has been hit hard by armed resistance, international scrutiny, and economic woes. For the first time since 2021, we have seen the fall of one of Myanmar’s 14 regional commands, as well as many towns, villages, and a few cities into the hands of the numerous insurgencies around the country. Meanwhile, the economy has taken a nosedive, the country’s GDP has fallen by 9% while rampant inflation has limited the acquisition power of the people to buy even the most basic supplies. The leaders of the coup remain internationally shunned, desperately relying on diplomacy with authoritarian countries like China, Russia, and Belarus to stay afloat. 

If these four years have caused many changes to the country as a whole and the military, it has impacted ordinary citizens a lot harder. Unless you live in the capital — a fortified giant of empty, ghostly 20-lane highways and government buildings — and close to the generals’ mansions, you’re sure to experience electrical outages for most of the day. Four hours of electricity a day is considered the baseline, but if you’re lucky, you might get around six. This makes daily activities like cooking difficult, but that’s not the worst. In a country that experiences temperatures as high as 48 degrees Celsius, it also means no air conditioning or electric fans. Before I went abroad for my studies, I can recall many nights spent on the floor — the mattress was too hot — in the darkness, fanning myself with a simple plastic fan. Every once in a while, Myanmar people, especially those living in the cities, also experience petrol shortages. Scenes of cars queuing at petrol stations are nothing new to Burmese urbanites. Stuck between a car with no petrol and a house with no electricity amid rising inflation, ordinary Burmese citizens often turn to the black market for their livelihoods — to the disdain of tax-hungry military authorities.

After all, what’s mundane about young people who should have been holding pens and papers finding themselves holding AK-47 rifles and hand grenades?

Then there came the conscription law. Although inscribed long ago and forgotten by successive governments, the law was revived back in February 2024, officially aiming to draft men aged 18–35 and women aged 18–27 into the military. There are also complementary laws aimed at drafting army retirees and forming the so-called paramilitary “public security forces.” While news reports indicate the military began training conscripts in April 2024, fear of the law itself reverberated across and beyond the country. In the following months, many young people attempted to flee the country, with neighbouring Thailand being the closest and easiest destination. A staggering number of over 2 million registered Burmese migrants now reside in Thailand — with many more taking precarious routes and choosing not to register. Conditions were less favourable outside the cities, where many young citizens who couldn’t migrate abroad joined insurgencies around the country’s peripheries.

In the rural areas, these hardships are compounded by a raging war. Fighter jets routinely bomb villages and refugee camps, and soldiers murder unarmed civilians — often in grotesque ways, with mutilations and beheadings being the common way to spread their message of terror. Skirmishes and battles are a daily occurrence, displacing over 2 million people within the country. This is a war that has continued since independence, now intensified by a new dictatorship desperately hanging onto power. Over 50,000 people have been killed since 2021. I said earlier that this is the experience of ordinary people in Myanmar, but there’s nothing ordinary about what they’ve been going through. After all, what’s mundane about young people who should be holding pens and papers instead of finding themselves holding AK-47 rifles and hand grenades?

I was fortunate enough to leave the country a few years ago to pursue my studies elsewhere. While this makes me somewhat unqualified to comment on the current conditions on the ground, I can recount my experiences from thousands of miles away from home. Many early mornings have been spent trying to talk to my parents on FaceTime, only to be interrupted by a sudden loss of connection — either from an internet blackout or yet another power outage. Then, there’s the constant worry for my cousins, who are still pursuing some form of education while being knee-deep in the military’s conscription age. I’ve seen many protests in Canada by the Burmese diaspora, a motivating factor for sure, but still doesn’t shake off the feelings of anxiety and uncertainty that plague many fellow Burmese students. The instability of foreign currency and rising inflation also threaten to abruptly end our education — a fear made worse by the possibility of receiving a conscription letter, even when we’re away. There’s only so much we can do to stay away from the government, though. At some point, we’ll have to renew our passports and deal with the military-backed embassies. But perhaps we shouldn’t complain too much — many are suffering a lot more than us. 

The Burmese people are not new to military governments; we have had them since 1962. Even so, there’s still anger, anxiety, and nervousness. Anger at the international community for standing by and doing nothing to stop this humanitarian disaster. Anxiety for our futures and our families’ safety. Nervousness about where all this is leading to. Elections will be held later this year, but no one is confident they’ll be truly democratic. In the meantime, keep supporting Myanmar’s resistance movements, stay informed, and follow the news.