Insight Myanmar

Welfare State, DIY

Episode #477: “I found Myanmar a really interesting case study,” says Gerard McCarthy, a political sociologist and author of Outsourcing the Polity. His work explores how deeply divided,impoverished societies emerge from conflict and build political settlements. Drawn to Myanmar during its 2010 transition, McCarthy focuses his research on provincial regions like northern Bago and Karen States—areas largely ignored in existing scholarship, which tends to center on Yangon and Mandalay. McCarthy examines how Myanmar’s military regime, following the collapse of socialism, strategically withdrew from welfare provision and encouraged businesspeople and religious institutions to fill the gap. This “social outsourcing,” he argues, gave rise to a form of “moral citizenship” in which the public relies on voluntary charity, not state entitlements. Buddhist ideas such as parahita were reinterpreted to support this system, laying the groundwork for broad civil society engagement—including the response to Cyclone Nargis in 2008. Post-coup resistance, including support for PDFs and displaced communities, builds on these same networks. But McCarthy warns against romanticizing civil society: non-state welfare is often uneven, unregulated, and unsustainable, he cautions. He notes that as a legacy of this “moral citizenship” dynamic, both elites and the general public now undervalue state-based social protections. To move forward, he suggests, Myanmar must learn from as well as build on the transparency and trust embedded in charitable systems. “The state might try to mimic the aspects of the non-state sector which people have faith in,” he argues. For him, voluntary generosity is not a substitute for nationwide systems of justice or systematic redistribution.

The Revolution Will Not Be Meditated

Episode #476: Minnthonya, a deeply committed Burmese monk, recounts his remarkable journey from traditional monastic education to becoming a key figure in Myanmar's resistance movements. Initially drawn to the Buddhist path as a young boy, he studied under teachers who encouraged a deep engagement with both Buddhist scriptures and broader knowledge. It was this education that opened his eyes to the true political situation in his country, where the military regime had not only oppressed the people but also controlled religious institutions. As a teenager, Minnthonya's desire to change Myanmar grew, and he began organizing underground reading groups with fellow monks to discuss the country's dire political situation. Despite the regime’s brutal repression, he and his peers covertly shared political writings and inspired others to question the status quo. His efforts culminated in his leadership role during the 2007 Saffron Revolution, where monks took to the streets, reciting the Metta Sutta, demanding freedom from military oppression. One of their key actions was the "Patta Nekku Sanna"—a symbolic boycott of the military’s offerings, which united the monks in their defiance against the regime. Forced into exile after the regime’s crackdown, Minnthonya continues his activism from Thailand, setting up libraries, education centers, and organizing resistance efforts among exiled Burmese communities. His commitment to the Dhamma has never wavered, as he believes that true Buddhist teachings must address the suffering of the people. For him, the fight for democracy and justice is inseparable from the spiritual path. He continues to advocate for both inner and outer peace, teaching that monks have a duty to stand up against oppression and that the path to freedom lies not only in meditation but also in courageous action against injustice. “We never believe in the military regime!” he exclaims. "For a very long time, [the military] has been destroying our Buddhism. They’ve killed many monks, sent countless others to jail, and destroyed monasteries—even now!”

Building Bridges From Norway

Episode #475: “So many peoples in Myanmar who are fighting for democracy and human rights... they don’t get any title or any recognize, but they did what they believed in.” Wut Hmone Win carries a legacy of resistance that began long before her. Her father, a student leader in the 1974 uprising involving U Thant’s funeral, was imprisoned for his defiance of Ne Win’s regime, and her family lived under surveillance. “The whole life of me and my family is [being] watched by the military,” she says. That experience taught her that freedom always has a cost. Educated in economics in Yangon and Norway, she had once hoped to live an ordinary life, free from politics. But when the 2021 coup struck Myanmar, the safety and democracy she enjoyed in Norway became unbearable reminders of what her people had lost. “I am living in Norway. I feel democracy and freedom and safety here, and human rights,” she says, with the understanding that all of this was lost completely back home. Within days she began organizing protests, helping to found the CRPH Support Group, Norway—a coalition of over twenty-one ethnic and religious organizations fighting for Myanmar’s democracy from exile. As General Secretary, she oversees its humanitarian aid programs and international advocacy. “I do need money to support people who are suffering in Myanmar,” she says. “That’s my simple strategy… we do need to support human rights… we do need [to be] shouting out loudly effectively.” Wut Hmone Win is critical of diaspora groups that remain confined to their own circles. “They are [remaining] in their own group, and that is a limited amount,” she says, emphasizing the need to reach Norwegians who “don’t know about Myanmar.” Traveling beyond Oslo, she holds cultural events in towns like Lillehammer to “show our culture, dancing and then what happened in Myanmar.” For her, crossing those boundaries is how the revolution’s voice can truly be heard. “We are standing here like a diaspora group in Norway,” she says. “We do need support, and we do need [recognition] too.”

A Not So Quiet American

Episode #474: Scott Aronson, a career humanitarian and conflict expert, describes his years in Myanmar between 2015 and the 2021 coup as “a really dynamic but also very challenging time to work in Myanmar.” He reflects on how his professional experience, field expertise, and moral convictions converged during a period of both democratic optimism and deepening crisis. Beginning his humanitarian career in the early 2000s, Aronson worked in Darfur and northern Uganda, where he learned the importance of coordination, adaptability, and respect for civilians in violent settings. Later, with USAID’s Bureau for Humanitarian Assistance, he managed disaster and conflict responses, including the 2015 Nepal earthquake. In 2016, he became USAID’s senior conflict and governance advisor at the U.S. Embassy in Yangon, supporting Myanmar’s transition from dictatorship to democracy. His work focused on strengthening civil society networks and promoting inclusion in a fragile peace process. The 2017 Rohingya crisis shifted his attention to Rakhine State, where he worked with both Rohingya and Rakhine partners to provide humanitarian aid and document abuses. He calls this a time of hope mixed with heartbreak, when Myanmar’s potential for democratic unity collided with long-standing ethnic and religious divisions. When the 2021 coup struck, Aronson was in Yangon under COVID quarantine. He helped coordinate emergency communication and funding for local partners after banks and networks collapsed. He credits Burmese activists with sustaining resistance, describing how local groups organized safe houses, escape routes, and covert aid despite mortal danger. Aronson argues that supporting Myanmar’s democracy serves both moral and strategic U.S. interests, rejects isolationist arguments, and acknowledges the personal toll of the crisis. He remainshopeful that unity among Myanmar’s diverse movements will eventually rebuild the nation: “When that day comes, and it will come,” he says, “there’s going to be so much growth and opportunity in the country.”

Liberal Dreams, Illiberal Ends

Episode #473: “The military was pursuing an illiberal strategy to peace, and Norway became complicit, not necessarily by design, but by its effect, it became a de facto sponsor of a strategy for illiberal peace building by the military.” Kristian Stokke draws on decades of research across Sri Lanka, South Africa, and Indonesia, where Norway’s peace efforts often reinforced state dominance rather than confronting inequality. He argues that Myanmar followed the same trajectory. “Norway became the envoy of the West that went in to test the waters,” he recalls, acting as a diplomatic go-between for Western powers eager to engage Myanmar’s generals. “When we came to Myanmar, it was very clear that Norway’s engagement was interest-based. It was no longer pretending to be just altruistic.” Norway’s involvement, he continues, was driven as much by self-interest as by moral aspiration: “as a diplomat, as an aid donor and as an investor.” He goes on to describe that as a result, the so-called democratic opening of the 2010s was not a genuine transition: “This was not the negotiated transition of South Africa or Latin American countries in the 1980s,” Stokke explains. “It was an authoritarian-led transition to less closed dictatorship or electoral autocracy.” He believes Norway’s peacebuilding “actually undermined the forces for power sharing and democracy,” focusing too much on the state and too little on democratic and ethnic movements. Reflecting on the years since the coup, Stokke laments Norway’s caution: “At times, I find it surprising or unfortunate that they don’t come out in support of those actors who are really at the forefront of the struggle for better democracy in Myanmar.”