Although India and Myanmar have taken different approaches to the COVID-19 pandemic, and different factors prevail in each country, neither have been too badly affected.
India’s 35,000-strong caseload and 1000 odd casualty figures are better than many other countries. While the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)-led government is in self-congratulatory mode, experts warn it is still too early to tell.
Myanmar counts only 151 cases and six confirmed deaths from the virus. In fact, far more men, women and children have been killed in crossfires, shellfire and airstrikes since the beginning of this year.
Looking across the long, unfenced and unguarded border with India at the repercussions and implications from the pandemic, the picture is worrying, but not surprising.
I have followed New Delhi’s Tablighi Jamaat congregation incident closely. I have been to that Delhi neighbourhood a few times, and even without a religious event, the congestion and narrow lanes make it a contagion hotspot.
The now-infamous congregation, which took place in mid-March at the Nizamuddin Markaz mosque, ended up infecting at least 1080 persons who were then quarantined. As of 18 April, the Indian government revealed that 4291 cases in 23 states and Union Territories were linked to the Nizamuddin event.
India has a relatively better health system in the region today, but with a vaccine still in the early stages of testing and retroviral drugs so expensive, the treatment of severely ill patients can be daunting.
Thus, it is heartening to know that hundreds of Jamaatis who were quarantined and have recovered are now donating their plasma to be used to treat patients in critical conditions.
While the Delhi Chief Minister, Arvind Kejriwal, has said that the initial results are on the positive side, the union Ministry of Health and Family Welfare has admitted that the plasma treatment is still in its experimental stages.
Then there are the repercussions from the communities and certain irresponsible people, including elected politicians.
Discrimination against Muslims is nothing new in India or in Myanmar, but with the Coronavirus-induced fear, it has become volatile.
Following the Tablighi incident, accusations and recriminations were flung about. But eventually, the government leadership in India defused the tensions by stating that religion and caste are not to be blamed for the outbreak.
Similarly, in Myanmar, a Christian evangelical pastor who was said to be living abroad held a prayer meeting in Yangon in defiance of prohibitions on large gatherings.
While he made certain controversial remarks about faith and COVID-19, he himself tested positive and was quarantined.
But soon, the manipulators came in.
An allegedly Christian woman posted remarks vilifying the Buddha, which seemingly went beyond the bounds of decency. Fortunately, the news was soon proved to be fake, and not many took it seriously. Let us hope similar sensible heads prevail elsewhere.
Another common factor between India and Myanmar is the prevalence and dominance of majoritarian democracy.
One might ask, what is there to worry about since both countries still have democracies. But one soon realises that there are differences, ones that we are seeing every day.
The centre is coming out strong in both countries. In Myanmar, national elections are scheduled for November this year, but could be pushed.
Both regimes are also relying heavily on the religious majority, and that means relegating and pushing minorities to an ever lower status, one that is anyway ever-declining.
There is no denying that a system of apartheid has been flourishing in parts of Myanmar for years now. It would indeed be the depth of folly for India to try and emulate this.
Indeed, crises like the current pandemic can become feeding grounds for authoritarian and majoritarian regimes.
Also read ‘Myanmar’s Ongoing Agony: Time to Heed the Lessons of History‘
There are about a half a dozen Western-funded democracy promotion organisations active in Myanmar. Having focused mostly on the visible mechanics, like elections, they now need to expand their attention to how democratic systems can be manipulated. This is a tall order, indeed.
It is not about harking back to the ideals of the circum-independence period upon which the modern Indian state was founded. Neither is it about appealing to one’s better nature. Sad to say, such things don’t cut much ice anymore.
Instead, the question to be asked is – how does a country impose a system that relegates 20% of its population to second-class status?
Have we thought about what it could do to our social fabric and to the body politic in a democracy?
It’s not difficult to drum up religious populism and majoritarian rule, and one can win elections handsomely. But in the days after poll victories, how does one make those things stand down? In other words, how does one put the genies back into the bottle?
Regionally, the polarising and majoritarian political climate in India won’t go well with its aspirations towards the East, where it is exerting considerable effort to forge links, as with ASEAN Plus Six and Mekong-Ganga Cooperation. Many countries in Southeast Asia have large Muslim populations, after all.
The United States, too, is facing a similar crisis of credibility. Recently, I was asked to take an online survey on post-Coronavirus relations between Southeast Asia, China and the United State. I can tell you all my responses were slanted towards the dim side.
The ascendancy of national security arguments is acknowledged, but so is the need for capable politics – the means and the leadership.
But putting a million Uyghurs into mass detention camps because they pose a “security risk” is not something that can be accepted, let alone worthy of emulation.
On these fundamental matters, Myanmar’s Rakhine State presents an unparalleled example of what not to do.
Amongst the militaries of the world, there must be dozens of manuals on how to fight and win counterinsurgency campaigns. But are there manuals on how to lose them?
No, you don’t need such a manual because the process is very simple. Apply maximum firepower, undertake maximum arrests and interrogations, and deny supplies to civilian and military targets. Mercilessly, unrelentingly.
Two weeks ago, in the middle of the Burmese New Year (Thingyan), the Myanmar military engaged in heavy bombardment of alleged Arakan Army elements in a village in Ponnagyun township, which is halfway between the Bangladesh border and the Rakhine State capital of Sittwe. Civilian casualties were heavy.
If there is a precise point where Naypyidaw lost Rakhine, this was it.
It is beyond doubt that the centre in Naypyidaw does not have any viable solution for the ongoing Rakhine conflict between the military and the Arakan Army, nor the conflicts in other parts of Myanmar, for that matter.
The shapes of what are called external players are gradually emerging and it is not a pretty picture. Naypyidaw happens to be an edifice that is largely and inherently reactive rather than proactive.
The final outcome is more and more likely to be imposed from outside, and by that I don’t mean the international organs or the West in general.
As with the pandemic, we have to constantly grapple with the ‘known unknowns’ and the ‘unknown unknowns’. We try to look for neat models, when in reality none exist.
Rakhine is one place where discrimination had gone too far. And when the crunch came, the “authorities” at all levels could not manage. It has now regressed to open war.
The outcome is going to be neither pretty nor palatable, so we better be prepared for it.
Views expressed are the author’s own.
Featured image: Villagers fleeing fighting in Pauktaw Pyin village, Ponnagyun township, Rakhine State | Photo source: Sâw Mřat Ko Kõ, Facebook
is the director of Tampadipa Institute, a policy organisation based in Yangon. He was a political prisoner for eleven years during Myanmar’s military dictatorship.
