'A War without a Song'

'A War without a Song'
by -
Mizzima

Military-backed militias and their role in the drug trade

Militias and illegal business go together in the Shan State capital, Taunggyi. It’s an open secret. The front for the opium poppy business of the Nar Yai militia – a remnant of the late opium warlord Khun Sa's Mong Tai Army – for example, is a water purification and bottling plant, said Taunggyi resident Sai Min Naing, nodding to my water glass.

The posturing is not lost on Sai Min Naing, who grew poppy for a season in 1996 and has been conducting research into poppy cultivation in Shan State for more than ten years.

“Growing poppy is like war without a song,” he said, referring to the sound of gunshots, his wife listening intently next to him, cradling their infant son.

Paradoxically, since ceasefires were implemented in 2011 in Shan State, opium production and its eradication by state and non-state groups have skyrocketed, show figures from the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime.

A War without a SongMyanmar produced 870 tons of opium in 2013, compared with 312 tons in 2005, said the 2014 UNODC World Drug Report. The report also said 12,288 hectares of opium poppy was eradicated in 2013, compared with 3,907 ha in 2005.

Methamphetamine production has also become increasingly prevalent. The disturbing trend of using amphetamine-type stimulants in part payment for opium has ravaged Shan villages and debilitated many of its youth, Khun Chankie, secretary of the Taunggyi-based Pa-O Youth Organisation, told Mizzima.

Dr Min Zaw Oo, program director for the Myanmar Peace Center's ceasefire negotiation and implementation program, blames the resurgence in the drug trade on a reduction of army surveillance.

The closure of about 90 percent of checkpoints nationwide and the increased movement of traffickers in the drug trade – facilitated by a diminished military presence – contribute to the rise in outputs and trafficking, he said.

Myanmar's booming drug trade is bolstered by village-level militias, which are formed for a number of reasons – but mainly to provide protection.

Apart from dozens of minority ethnic armed groups, Myanmar plays host to thousands of militias, 400 of which are in Shan State, said Dr Min Zaw Oo. The militias are a critical element of the government's counterinsurgency strategy and the government tends to arm these groups, he added.

Villagers whose resources have been stretched thin by dealing with multiple armed groups may eventually decide to deal solely with the government. The government provides arms and, at times, protection; other armed groups can no longer enter the village.

Once security is guaranteed, militias must be economically self-sustaining.

“The military budget did not include militias, so some of the militia groups get support from local military units, but many don't,” said Dr Min Zaw Oo. “This is how economic interests come into it.”

There are also militia outfits comprising former insurgents who have acquiesced to the government but are still bearing arms, he said.

By the first week of December, the chequered patterns of white flowering poppy fields will decorate the hillsides of Shan State. The poppy fields, cleared on harsh rocky terrain at inconceivable elevations, can be seen from the Hopong Valley, a mere 12.5 miles from Taunggyi. The visibility of the illegal crop raises questions about the complicity of Myanmar and ethnic minority authorities.

“Some units of the military are definitely – in some way – involved, turning a blind eye, getting protection money,” said Harn Yawnghwe, the executive director of peace building organisation Euro-Burma. “There's no way you can say they don't know; how could they not know?”

Despite a campaign by the Pa-O National Organisation to eradicate poppy in its self-administered zone of Pinlaung, Hopong and Hsisheng townships from about 2005 to 2010, corruption was widespread in the Pa-O National Army, Khun Chankie pointed out.

The PNA signed a ceasefire with the government in 1991 and became a government-backed militia in 2010, after the PNO registered as a political party.

“After the ceasefire, the [PNA] soldiers didn't have jobs, so they got into the opium business, collecting illegal bribes from poppy farmers” said Khun Chankie. “Sometimes the PNA would kick out corrupt soldiers – but after that, they didn't have any more soldiers with fighting experience; the quality of soldier became lower and lower.”

Khun Chankie feels a policy enacted in 1996 by the military’s ruling State Law and Order Restoration Council to cut the salaries of Tatmadaw soldiers to less than K5,000 a month “created corruption”.

“The [Tatmadaw] soldiers had to make more money – but not publicly – through illegal tax or bribes.”

Complicity and corruption go hand-in-hand, said Harn Yawnghwe. “None of the drugs could be produced or moved without some kind of complicity from some units of the army or the police; it's a big problem.”

Militias have their economic realms. In Taunggyi, for example, it’s possible to be granted a concession to build a water treatment plant or a monopoly on “public” transportation, said Khun Saw, an activist and former Pa-O insurgent.

“The government provides Nar Yai with economic opportunities, they do water purification, they take tax from shopkeepers – and it's all just for show. Actually they are doing the big business of poppy.”

The Nar Yai militia had about 15 troops in 1998 when it agreed to a ceasefire. It now has a force of more than 200 men, based at Namhsan Township, in northern Shan State.

Some enterprises are completely under the table, said Khun Saw. To drive through Taunggyi without a license plate – and presumably to transport illegal goods – a big fee must be paid to members of a the Mant Kyant militia, which is also based in Namhsan Township.

Khun Saw believes the fronts provide “dignity” to militia members.

“People will ask, 'how can you provide for your soldiers?' So they must show people they are doing big business in Taunggyi.”

A major issue facing the government as the peace process continues is the fate of non-state armed groups and militias after a national ceasefire is implemented.

“Do they all give up their arms, will they integrate into the army, will they become police? This may take the next 10 or 20 years,” said Harn Yawnghwe, adding that signing a national ceasefire will only be the first step in a long process. “Most people think once you have a ceasefire, that's peace, but that is not the case.”

“This is a process that reaches every aspect of your life – not just ethnic groups. The reality is they will be negotiating with political parties, with the government, with the army on the future shape of the country and what it will look like.”

Peace, said Harn Yawnghwe, must be secured before credible and inclusive economic development can take place, which will require a reformed legal system to clamp down on “black money.”

(Some names in this article have been changed).