Insight Myanmar

Aniccā with Feeling

Episode #519: Friedgard Lottermoser, a German student of Sayagyi U Ba Khin, describes the unique character of meditation at the International Meditation Center (IMC) in Rangoon between 1959 and 1971. Unlike the large,standardized courses later developed by S. N. Goenka, U Ba Khin taught only one ten-day course a month to small groups. Each student received individualized instruction based on temperament and background. “He went by feeling,” Friedgard recalls, noting that he could sense a student’s meditative progress even from afar. She contrasts U Ba Khin’s flexibility and adaptability with Goenka’s standardized system of recorded discourses and fixed schedules centered on a single technique. When political restrictions prevented U Ba Khin from traveling abroad after Ne Win’s 1962 coup, he could not realize his own dream of teaching dhamma outside Burma. So he trained several non-Burmese teachers to undertake this mission, as well as Goenka, who as an Indian businessman was able to obtain a passport. In particular, Goenka’s organizational talent and charisma transformed meditation into a vast global network. Yet Friedgard stresses that U Ba Khin never intended his teaching to be wholly standardized; he expected these teaching disciples to adapt the practice to their own cultures. In explaining the technique, Friedgard cites a pamphlet, The Essentials of Buddha Dharma in Meditative Practice, written by U Ba Khin where he outlines ten stages of vipassanā insight. These range from theoretical understanding (samasana) to deep dissolution (bhaṅga) and ultimately to detachment and realization. Unlike Goenka, he placed less emphasis on equanimity and more on “continuity of awareness—anicca with feeling.” Friedgard also goes into great detail about her friendship with Ruth Denison, an U Ba Khin disciple who adapted vipassanā for Western students through movement and mindful walking. Though Denison and her teaching approach was controversial in the conservative, Burmese Buddhist community at IMC, Friedgard believes U Ba Khin would have understood such adaptations. His genius, she says, lay not only in teaching meditation but in trusting that each culture must find its own expression of the Dhamma.

The Leftovers

Episode #518: The story of the KMT irregulars in Burma is a historical anomaly tied to the Chinese Civil War, the Cold War, and Burma’s early independence. Following their defeat, remnants of the Nationalist Army under General Li Mi crossed into Burma’s Shan States. Claiming to continue the anti-communist struggle, they later turned to the opium trade as a means of survival. This trade, expanded under the KMT’s control, expanded exponentially, transforming the region into the Golden Triangle—an epicenter of the global drug trade. The KMT’s activities also destabilized Burma and strained Prime Minister U Nu’s administration, leading to tensions with British and American stakeholders. Meanwhile, the CIA engaged in a covert mission tofund and arm the KMT, further complicating the geopolitical landscape. Meanwhile, the KMT’s exploitative practices alienated local ethnic groups, such as the Karen and Mon, deepening mistrust and fragmenting resistance. By 1953, international pressure forced U Nu to address the KMT’s presence at the United Nations. This led to evacuations supported by the CIA, though the process was incomplete and fraught with challenges. Many KMT forces remained, leaving an enduring legacy. The Golden Triangle’s drug trade flourished, ultimately reaching American inner cities; while regional instability persisted and the Tatmadaw grew in power, setting the stage for military rule in Burma. “By the mid to late 1950s, only about seven or eight thousand had gone [back to Taiwan], which was satisfactory for the government,” Baron says, noting the lasting footprint of the KMT’s presence in Burma, and highlighting the incomplete resolutions and ongoing legacies of this historical chapter. “But there was simply in the region, loads that just stayed, loads that never left, and you see their relatives or their descendants still there now.”

Enter the Dragon

Episode #517: “They are using each other for their own benefit.” With this line, Wai Yan Phyo Naing frames a sober account of SinoMyanmar relations. A researcher and lecturer in international relations and modern history who studied in Moscow and later worked with migrants in Thailand, Wai Yan Phyo Naing brings both scholarship and field experience to the conversation. For Wai Yan Phyo Naing, the relationship is transactional. “China is only interested in its national interests,” he says. “China is ready to communicate with whoever becomes powerful in Myanmar.” Myanmar engages because it must, yet, as Wai Yan Phyo Naing insists, “Myanmar is a sovereign, independent state—not a province of China.” Geography drives the rest: China seeks an outlet to the Indian Ocean, and Myanmar’s coast provides it. The pipelines from Kyaukphyu to Yunnan are operating; the rail vision remains contested—proof, Wai Yan Phyo Naing says, that consent and fair terms decide outcomes. Security realities push cooperation, as Wai Yan Phyo Naing notes that China brokered talks with MNDAA, TNLA, and AA, even “opened the observer office in Lashio,” and, as the generals realized the limits of unilateral force, they came to “appreciate the Chinese intervention.” The darker side of crossborder interdependence is the scam economy, which Wai Yan Phyo Naing calls “like a cancer.” Strategically, Wai Yan Phyo Naing recounts how Beijing once “wanted to create the tunnel… to the Ayeyarwady River and then to the sea.” That was rejected, but “the port project, gas and oil pipeline” are now real, and China is “ready to continue their highspeed railroad from Yunnan.” The moral is unchanged: both states pursue advantage, and Myanmar must bargain hard. Wai Yan Phyo Naing cautions against extremes. “Whoever holds power in Myanmar cannot forget China’s presence,” he says. “Please don’t forget we are just beside China… we shouldn’t see China as a ‘bad guy’ all the time.”

No State, No Service

Episode #516: “I want to be able to center women in their full right and to shine a spotlight on how I think they are very much the heroes of the revolution,” says Jenny Hedström, a researcher whose book, Reproducing Revolution, examines women’s labor in the Kachin struggle. Joined by Stella Naw, a Kachin activist and scholar, they argue that the conflict cannot be reduced to a simple story of aggressor and victim. Instead, it must be understood through the everyday labor that sustains communities across generations of war. Jenny’s engagement with Kachin women began in the early 2000s while working with the Kachin Women’s Association Thailand. She found that English-language scholarship centered male fighters and formal politics, while the women she spoke with talked about displacement, rebuilding, and survival. When she began her PhD in 2015, she initially focused on female soldiers, assuming armed actors were the proper lens for studying war. But spending time in Kachin towns, army brigades, and displacement camps shifted her perspective: she realized that labor that was not militarily or publicly celebrated proved equally essential to revolutionary endurance. Together, they argue that Kachin womens’ roles in farming, teaching, organizing, and caregiving within Kachin Independence Organization–controlled areas constitute real governance, and not merely domestic support. Stella reframes gender as relational, noting that rigid expectations of masculinity have harmed men as well. “When they can no longer perform the values that define them as Kachin men… they take their own life!” They extend this critique to the international arena, contending that legitimacy is too narrowly defined through sovereignty and armed control. The sustaining labor that makes resistance governance possible remains politically undervalued, and Jenny and Stella want conflict analysis and policy engagement to more explicitly account for this foundational layer of local governance. They stress that the governance sustained by women is politically indispensable, so it should be studied, supported—and valued—accordingly In the end, their commitment remains unequivocal: “We’d rather live and fight for freedom than to submit,” says Stella. “People are willing to die, so they will continue fighting. It's not going to end, but we can end it soon by supporting these resistance actors, who made up for pluralistic states, and support civil society groups who can hold EAOs and EROs accountable.”

From a Mirrorless Cell

Episode #515: Toru Kubota is a Japanese documentary filmmaker who believes storytelling can foster empathy beyond abstract argument. A political science student at Keio University who developed an interest in refugee issues, in 2014 he joined a student project interviewing Rohingya refugees in Japan. Using a camera for the first time, he helped produce a short documentary about their lives. In 2016, Kubota traveled to Sittwe in Rakhine State and entered camps housing Rohingya displaced after the 2012 violence. Though officially designated as internally displaced persons camps, he saw them as places of confinement, where communities were segregated and deprived of adequate services. Filming an accidental fire inside one camp became a turning point; editing the footage later convinced him of film’s power to convey lived experience. Following both the military’s 2017 campaign against the Rohingya and the 2021 coup, Kubota returned each time to Myanmar to document events unfolding there. While filming a protest in 2022,soldiers arrested him at gunpoint and used staged photographs as evidence of his participation. He was charged with incitement and immigration violations and sentenced to ten years in prison. Fortunately, diplomatic pressure was able to secure his release after 111 days in detention at the notorious Insein Prison, where he had endured solitary confinement and struggled with despair. Since then, Kubota has supported exiled Myanmar journalists in a variety of different ways. His film “Borderline Resistors” follows exile media collectives along the Thai–Myanmar border. Reflecting on his imprisonment and the fragility of civil liberties, he recalls something an activist once told him: “Freedom is like air. You never appreciate it when you can breathe freely. But you finally realize how important is when you get drowned in water.”