Neither Free Nor Fair
Coming Soon…
“I don’t believe there will be any change after this sham election, because the people are already the same,” says Brang Min, a Kachin State civil society organizer and student activist working with the Kachin State Civil Movement, about the upcoming, junta-sponsored election. He is joined in the conversation by two other guests: Thinzar Shunlei Yi and Aung Moe Zaw. Thinzar Shunlei Yi (who shared her background in a previous episode) is a leading organizer and deputy director of the Anti-Sham Election Campaign Committee representing the General Strike movement, while Aung Moe Zaw is a veteran democracy activist and senior figure associated with the Democratic Party for a New Society and the anti-sham election campaign. All three speak from different generational, geographic, and organizational positions, yet converge on a shared assessment: the military’s planned 2025 elections are not a pathway back to democracy but a continuation of authoritarian rule under a new façade.
Brang Min situates his perspective in Kachin State, where he was born and raised and where ongoing armed conflict has shaped everyday life. He explains that his organization, formed after the 2021 coup, focuses on democracy, federalism, and environmental justice. For him, the election question cannot be separated from lived realities on the ground. In Kachin State, communities face airstrikes, artillery attacks, displacement, and internet blackouts. Against this backdrop, elections appear abstract and irrelevant to survival. He recalls voting in the 2020 election with hope that elected representatives would improve Kachin State’s future, only to see that expectation collapse after the coup. That experience informs his conviction that the current election is “fake,” designed not to reflect popular will but to extend military power and manufacture legitimacy.
Thinzar Shunlei Yi frames the discussion through the organization she directs, which emerged from the General Strike movement in response to the coup. She outlines how the military dismantled and rebuilt the Union Election Commission (UEC) immediately after seizing power in February 2021, arresting previous officials and installing a military-controlled body. From her perspective, this early move revealed long-term intent: the junta never treated elections as a genuine democratic mechanism, but as a tool to reset its authority after repression. She emphasizes that although the military promised elections earlier, delays only reflected resistance on the ground, not a change in strategy. What distinguishes the current moment, she argues, is that revolutionary forces and much of the population have rejected the 2008 constitution altogether, viewing it as both illegitimate in origin and nullified by the military’s own violations of it.
Aung Moe Zaw analyzes the present crisis from within a much longer political history. Drawing on decades of activism dating back to the late 1980s, he recalls repeated cycles of coups, protests, arrests, and controlled elections. From his perspective, elections in Myanmar have mainly been about power. He argues that whenever civilian political forces have threatened military dominance—most notably the National League for Democracy—the military has intervened to exclude them, manipulate the system, or overturn results. He stresses that the current legal framework governing political parties functions more like a policing mechanism than an electoral administration. Parties must seek permission for nearly every activity, from opening offices to organizing members, making genuine political competition impossible.
Across the conversation, all three describe structural barriers deliberately erected to marginalize pro-democracy actors. Aung Moe Zaw explains that many established parties refuse to register under the junta’s election laws, not because they have ceased to exist politically, but because registration itself would imply recognition of military authority. The Union Election Commission, as he describes it, monitors and restricts parties so tightly that independent organizing becomes unworkable. In this environment, elections become a closed system where participation is limited to actors already aligned with the regime.
The guests further explore how ethnic politics intersect with the sham election process. Brang Min acknowledges that some ethnic minority parties may view the upcoming elections as an opportunity to gain visibility or limited influence, particularly in regions historically excluded from national politics. Yet he argues that this dynamic is shaped by coercion rather than consent. In Kachin State, he observes tensions inflamed by the military’s long-standing divide-and-rule tactics, which exploit ethnic differences to weaken resistance. With active fighting across Kachin State, the elections are overshadowed by fear, displacement, and daily violence. And while some military-aligned parties may willingly participate, ordinary Kachin citizens who vote will likely do so only because refusing to invites retribution.
Thinzar Shunlei Yi expands on this perspective by pointing to widespread disenfranchisement in ethnic communities. She notes that even in the 2020 election, many—particularly in Rakhine, Kachin, and Shan States—were excluded under the pretext of security. Rohingya communities faced systematic denial of voting rights long before the coup. In her view, these patterns reveal that electoral exclusion is not an exception but a core feature of Myanmar’s military-designed political system. She explains that out of the 330 total townships in Myanmar, the junta’s phased election plan only incorporated 193; she implies that the rest are in areas the junta does not control, or where they face great hostility. And of those 193, elections in 56 more have already been cancelled, while still others remain uncertain. The situation remains fluid as fighting intensifies.
Repression surrounding the election further undermines any claim to legitimacy. Thinzar Shunlei Yi describes the use of “election protection” laws to arrest dissenters, including individuals sentenced to decades in prison simply for opposing the vote or engaging online. She connects these arrests to broader patterns of airstrikes, torture, and intimidation designed to suppress resistance in contested areas. For her, the election is inseparable from escalating violence, as the military attempts to secure territory and compliance ahead of polling.
When discussing likely outcomes, Aung Moe Zaw expresses little uncertainty: besides the small number of cherrypicked districts where elections will actually be held, he believes the military has ensured victory through opaque electoral laws, and slanted proportional representation mechanisms that remain poorly explained even to participating parties. He suggests that some candidates, particularly military figures and former junta-aligned politicians, appear to have effectively been guaranteed seats based on where they campaign and how electoral districts have been structured. The confusion itself, he argues, serves the regime by preventing meaningful scrutiny.
Brang Min returns to a simple conclusion: the military’s objective is continuity of power. He notes that if the junta truly sought credible elections, it would release political prisoners, including Aung San Suu Kyi and other detained leaders. Their continued detention signals that elections are not meant to open political space, but to close it under a veneer of civilian participation. For him, the lack of information access in Kachin State, combined with widespread disinterest born of survival concerns, further demonstrates that the process lacks societal grounding.
The discussion turns somber when addressing the fate of detained political leaders. Brang Min voices deep mistrust of military statements regarding Aung San Suu Kyi’s health and safety, reflecting broader fears about conditions inside detention facilities. While acknowledging the differing views of her political legacy, he emphasizes her symbolic importance to many Burmese and insists that the military’s refusal to present credible evidence that she is alive and well only deepens suspicion.
All three agree that the election will not alter the trajectory of resistance. Brang Min states unequivocally that even if positions or titles change, the people’s rejection of military rule will not. Thinzar Shunlei Yi reinforces this by arguing that elections do not address the root causes of conflict: militarization, impunity, and structural exclusion. Without fundamental political reform, she believes resistance will continue regardless of announced results.
The international response to the upcoming elections also emerges as a major concern. Thinzar Shunlei Yi expresses anxiety that some actors in the international community may once again accept the military’s electoral narrative, as they did during earlier “transition” periods. She criticizes continued reliance on ASEAN’s Five-Point Consensus, which she views as ineffective and manipulated by the junta. From her perspective, Myanmar’s revolutionary movement has already moved beyond the 2008 Constitution, engaging in unprecedented debates about a federal democratic future, yet international actors seem hesitant to recognize this shift. Aung Moe Zaw adds a pragmatic, if bleak, assessment of regional politics. He argues that neighboring countries—particularly China, India, and ASEAN members—prioritize stability, trade routes, and strategic interests over democratic principles. While acknowledging limited engagement from countries like Malaysia or Indonesia, he does not expect unified regional support for the resistance. He concludes that Myanmar’s democratic future ultimately depends on internal strength rather than external endorsement.
When asked about ongoing resistance activities, Brang Min describes coordinated efforts by civil society groups, diaspora communities, and ethnic resistance organizations to boycott and delegitimize the election. His organization focuses on urging diaspora voters to not engage with embassies and also to advocate against any formal recognition of the vote. Closer to home, in Kachin State, resistance authorities and community leaders warn civilians against participating in junta-run elections, arguing that the process is illegitimate and that voting sites may expose communities to military violence. Although ordinary civilians will generally understood to be acting under coercion if they do participate, anyone who actively organizes or collaborates with the election risk being treated as assisting a military operation rather than engaging in a civic act. He also highlights intensified military offensives aimed at retaking territory in order to stage more widespread elections, and as usual, civilians bearing the brunt of violence.
Looking ahead, Thinzar Shunlei Yi emphasizes accountability. She frames elections as a distraction from urgent humanitarian realities: airstrikes during holiday seasons, ongoing violence against the Rohingya, and the daily struggle for survival for displaced communities. Her central demand is for justice—through international legal mechanisms, universal jurisdiction cases, and meaningful accountability for war crimes. Without this, she argues, cycles of violence will persist.
In their closing reflections, each speaker appeals to international solidarity. Brang Min describes the current moment as a rare opportunity to rebuild Myanmar on more just foundations and urges global allies not to forget the country’s people or legitimize sham processes. Thinzar Shunlei Yi characterizes Myanmar as “a nation in the making,” insisting that elections under military control cannot deliver peace and calling for support for long-term, people-led solutions. Aung Moe Zaw focuses on the younger generation inside Myanmar, emphasizing their economic hardship, displacement, and determination, and asking for sustained support to ensure their struggle can continue. He says, “I think this is the moment people stand up against the bully and say, ‘We are the boss here!’”