Children of the Revolution
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“Protecting the children's rights it to educate them, not to give them weapons!"
Ei is a former member of the People’s Defense Force (PDF) who initially participated in the armed resistance but later shifted her focus toward education and humanitarian work, particularly concerning child soldiers and youth affected by conflict.
Ei joined the PDF at the age of 28. While the official age requirement ranged from 18 to 35, the reality of war brought many underage participants. Some joined voluntarily out of patriotism, others were pressured, and many simply had no alternatives due to the violence in their communities. During her four months of PDF training, Ei witnessed both bravery and abuse. She recounted cases of sexual harassment from trainers and the execution of fellow fighters over minor financial disputes. These experiences led her to conclude that revolution must be rooted in education and ethics rather than weapons. "We have different skills for education, for healthcare, for the citizens," she says. “My mastery is not in my arms, it is in my brain.”
After leaving the training camp, Ei relocated to a Karen village, where she lived for more than three years. Initially met with suspicion due to her Bamar background, she eventually earned the trust of the local community by helping teachers and launching nutrition and agricultural programs. She planted vegetables and raised pigs and goats to support food security. To encourage participation, she organized school competitions and gave vegetable seeds as prizes, which inspired villagers to start their own gardens. Her work demonstrated that sustainable education and agriculture could exist even in war-torn areas, and she became a bridge of trust between Bamar and Karen communities.
Life in the village was marked by hardship. The community had little to no internet access, making communication difficult. Airstrikes and artillery attacks were constant threats, and schools and religious buildings were often targeted by the military. Despite these risks, Ei helped build two schools and a library, promising that if they were destroyed, she would rebuild them again. Her conviction was that education had to continue regardless of war.
From these experiences, Ei founded the A Lin Eain Shelter in Mae Sot, Thailand. The shelter provides refuge for children under 18 who have been involved with armed groups or otherwise affected by conflict. It accepts children from all sides—including those associated with the State Administration Council (SAC) military, the PDF, and various ethnic armed organizations (EAOs). At the shelter, children receive formal education, vocational training, trauma counseling, and emotional support. Courses include hospitality, phone repair, and mechanical skills, with the goal of preparing the youth for community reintegration. Ei stresses that the shelter is not a permanent institution but a temporary, rehabilitative space designed to help children rebuild their lives.
Ei defines a child soldier as anyone under 18 who participates in any aspect of armed activity—combat, portering, cooking, spying, or other logistical roles. She has documented cases of children forced into such roles by the SAC and by resistance groups. She cites one example of a 15-year-old boy abducted while selling barbecue, used as a porter, and later captured by an ethnic armed group. In another case, a 16-year-old fighter who had expressed a wish to study later refused rehabilitation, showing how war can entrench a sense of identity tied to conflict. She also shares the story of a trafficked boy forced to smuggle weapons and drugs, revealing the overlap between war and organized crime.
Through her advocacy, Ei has engaged directly with leaders from the Karen National Union (KNU), the Karenni Army, and the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), encouraging them to release underage recruits. She has appealed to them by saying, “If you have any under 18 years old soldier who would like to go to school, we can accept… and if they would like to keep going for vocational education, please let me know.” Some responded positively, but others accused her of betrayal, claiming that her actions undermined the revolution. Ei also reached out to the National Unity Government’s Ministry of Women and Children, reporting instances of underage fighters, though she has not received responses. Despite resistance, she insists that removing children from conflict strengthens rather than weakens the movement.
Ei notes that the Myanmar military continues to forcibly conscript minors, sometimes abducting them directly from schools or streets. She referred to both personal observations and reports, including United Nations data indicating thousands of child soldiers on the military side. She believes these children, regardless of affiliation, are victims of the same system of exploitation. “If their childhood life is really bad, if they become a soldier, it becomes worse when they hold a weapon,” she explains. For this reason, A Lin Eain Shelter places trauma care alongside education as a core pillar of rehabilitation.
Her experience also exposed the psychological consequences of war. Many young soldiers she met had lost all empathy and expressed enjoyment in fighting. Others were emotionally numb. Ei herself admits to being traumatized by the constant sound of aircraft, associating it with bombings. She notes that even adult fighters now seek counseling after years of suppressing pain, and warns that unresolved trauma could result in widespread depression, violence, and suicide in the post-war period.
Ei also raises concerns about the long-term loss of education caused by both COVID-19 and the war. She estimates that Myanmar’s children have already lost seven years of schooling and could lose twelve if the conflict continues. “Our young people are human resources for the future, and they have to study [in order to] build a free and just society for the next generation,” she says, pointing to how the loss of education now may have disastrous consequences for decades to come. “These children who are losing their education today may grow up and become the leaders of our country… so how they will be able to handle duty and responsibility and their strategy today?”
In 2025, Ei wrote an open letter addressed to the leaders of Myanmar’s resistance. She urged them to stop recruiting minors, reminding them that protecting children’s rights and ensuring access to education are integral to building a free and just society. “Taking the children out of war is not a loss. It is an investment in our future," she argued in the letter.
To the international community, Ei calls for education scholarships and training programs for displaced Myanmar youth. “I found a lot of young people are hopeless for education and for job opportunities,” she says, emphasizing the urgent need for resources that can restore hope and purpose. She stresses that opportunities for study abroad or in border areas can help rebuild skills for future reconstruction.
Through her personal journey—from soldier to educator and advocate—Ei’s work at the A Lin Eain Shelter represents a model of moral resistance grounded in protection, education, and healing. Her initiatives highlight how addressing the trauma and lost potential of child soldiers is essential to Myanmar’s long-term peace and stability. Or as Ei puts it, “without education, holding a gun is stupid.”