Barely Breathing
Coming Soon…
“I think I wouldn’t have survived if I was in Thailand or Myanmar at that time.” This is the sober reflection of Maw Htun, currently the Deputy Minister of the Ministry of Electricity and Energy in Myanmar's National Unity Government (NUG), on his brush with mortality as a cancer patient. He speaks about that health scare, the NUG, and an unexpected spiritual awakening that reshaped his understanding of identity, governance, and the essence of human connection. Maw Htun’s personal transformation has deeply shaped his vision for a future Myanmar.
Maw Htun had always had a strong ambition to serve his country. When the National Unity Government (NUG) emerged as a symbol of democratic resistance following the coup, he seized the opportunity to join. Relocating to the border town of Mae Sot, Thailand, for an orientation, a new chapter of political engagement seemed to be unfolding for him, promising a chance to help build the federal democracy he had always envisioned.
Yet destiny had a different plan in store for him. Just six months into his NUG tenure, Maw Htun received his devastating cancer diagnosis. The initial symptoms were deceptively benign—a persistent stomach ache and loss of appetite. Living in that border town meant limited medical access, and lacking the official documents that would enable him to take advantage of Thai hospitals, his illness was initially misdiagnosed. “Everybody thought it was a stomach related problem,” he recounts. His weight plummeted. By December 2021, he was so critically ill that he could barely walk ten meters. Fortunately, the Swedish Embassy intervened – what Maw Htun regards as “unexpected” and “predestined” - and helped make arrangements for him to be transported to a hospital in Bangkok.
Upon his arrival, he was given an immediate blood transfusion to stabilize him before any further examination could proceed. A battery of tests—CT scans, colonoscopies, endoscopies, and extensive blood work—then unraveled the grim truth: what was initially suspected to be intestinal tuberculosis turned out to be a malignant tumor. While treatment options existed in Bangkok, the Swedish embassy fortunately intervened again, and strongly urged him to seek treatment in Stockholm, promising a better chance of survival.
He was fortunate to get such advice. Hospitalized immediately after arriving, his cancer diagnosis was confirmed; an operation was essential, though its success could not be guaranteed. In surgery, he started to hemorrhage, forcing a pause in the operation that unfortunately led to significant organ damage – his large and small intestines, pancreas, gallbladder, spleen, and even a portion of his liver and abdominal partition muscle were compromised. “It has put a real stress on me,” he recalls, detailing his nearly three-week struggle in the ICU, followed by a month in rehabilitation. For five agonizing months post-operation, he battled a complete loss of appetite. Compounding his ordeal, he contracted drug-resistant tuberculosis, necessitating yet another month of quarantine in a hospital. Only after ensuring he was no longer infectious was he allowed to return home, remaining on medication for a year and a half before finally being declared free of tuberculosis. This prolonged health battle left Maw Htun but a shadow of his former self. “I was like a zombie! I lost about 30 kilograms,” he says, adding that it was a miracle he survived at all.
Yet the physical and psychological impact of his ordeal triggered a spiritual metamorphosis. Born a Kachin Christian, Maw Htun had, like many cancer survivors, anticipated becoming more devout in the faith he was brought up in. Instead, he found himself struggling with existential questions, like “Why me? What have I done to deserve this?” Previously a highly independent professional — running a think tank, managing an international schedule, and deeply connected in his country’s politics — he had been more than successful, especially, as he puts it, by Myanmar standards. The transition from his previous self-reliance to a state of complete helplessness, confined to a hospital bed and unable even to get up without help, was a seismic shift, but one that also came to impact “the way I see life, and see spiritualities.” The stark realization of his own insignificance, of being “just a speck of dust in this universe,” cultivated a deep sense of humility. He describes how it transformed him and ultimately made him a better person; he became more forgiving, shed grudges, and was more mindful of his actions. He came to understand that the simple joys of life were a person’s true wealth.
Most profoundly and unexpectedly, meditation also entered his life. Out of a desperation to overcome his pain, this became a very cornerstone of his recovery. His surprising practice began when he was attending an important diplomatic meeting in Europe with NUG ministers. He was still physically fragile after complications from his surgery and was running a high fever. Instead of being productive, however, the meeting was filled with arguments that left him feeling suffocated and intensely angry, and his body felt like it was crumbling. In that moment of intense psychological and physical duress, he intuitively turned to watching his breath.
He had tried meditation before, but he could never persevere or succeed in calming his mind. This time, however, he did! Lying in bed, focusing purely on his breath, “soon my mind became still,” he recounts, describing an inner peace, the likes of which he had never experienced before. This sense of calm was accompanied by a strange phenomenon—a hot warm flow moving through his body. He describes it as “weird, but at the same time, healing!”
Since that fateful night, meditation has become an integral part of his life. He practices in his own way, simply focusing on his breath until his mind achieves that familiar sense of peace and silence. He finds that it gives him energy, mental clarity, and improved concentration; he does not become as easily irritated, his body healed, and amazingly, his bowel movements normalized for the first time in three years. “I become myself again, it has really touched me,” he says.
Maw Htun’s transformational journey through suffering and spiritual discovery has also afforded him a window into a different way of understanding “identity.” As a member of an ethnic minority community, he recognizes the multiple identities he holds, but he began to see them more as social constructs or illusions rather than immutable truths. “I feel more connected to the nature of the universe than these identities,” he says.
He applies this radical reconception to the overall landscape of Myanmar's politics, particularly the discourse around federal democracy. While acknowledging the pervasive “Burmese chauvinism” and the deep-seated grievances of ethnic minorities, he cautions against an excessive focus on ethnicity and religion. Such a narrow lens, he believes, causes one to “miss the whole point of politics – making life better no matter who you are!” That said, he asserts that his perspective does not marginalize the historical suffering of ethnic minorities; after all, he himself has experienced such discrimination. But he feels that his new outlook only deepens his commitment to addressing the challenges ethnic minorities face.
Finding the delicate balance between downplaying identity on the one hand and addressing identity-related grievances on the other, he explains, lies in acknowledging that while identities may be social constructs, they still have real-life implications and consequences. He advocates for recognizing this truth: while we are all fundamentally connected at an atomic level and share common ground, the historical suffering of Myanmar’s ethnic and religious minority communities is real and cannot be dismissed. The first step, he argues, is creating “more space for listening,” and welcoming all voices, particularly those of marginalized groups, to be heard. From there, an important question emerges: “What do we want as an end goal?” By focusing on creating a country where citizens are treated equally, and their culture, language, and faith are freely practiced, the system can be proactively re-engineered. In other words, rather than addressing separate grievances that may continue to engender discord and keep the society fractured, he advocates addressing the greater good of all, through which process the grievances of diverse groups will be ameliorated.
He gives an example from his portfolio, electricity distribution. He points out that just a glance at an electricity distribution map will show the inequity: the majority of Myanmar's hydro and natural resources are located in non-Bamar, ethnic minority areas, while the bulk of consumption and main electricity grid are concentrated in the country’s Bamar-dominated regions. To remedy this, he believes that an equitable system serving everyone should be built from the ground up, rather than addressing the existing grid in a piecemeal manner. Maw Htun further adds that the indiscriminate violence perpetrated by the junta, even in Bamar areas, is forcing the whole country to realize there is now a shared suffering binding them. Inadvertently, he believes the coup is paving the way for a more unified understanding of Myanmar’s systemic flaws and future harmony.
Maw Htun next turns his attention to the NUG, and emphasizes that the it is not a conventional, full-fledged government, but rather an entity born from a political defiance movement that asserts its legitimacy as the true representative of the people based on the 2020 elections. The attempt to juggle its dual nature — as a revolutionary organization tasked with dismantling old systems, and a shadow administration striving for continuity — often leads to criticism, even from within the NUG’s own ranks.
Despite the immense challenges, Maw Htun firmly believes the NUG has achieved remarkable progress. He argues that the significant territory now under revolutionary control in ethnic areas would not have been possible had the NUG not been successful at rallying public support against the junta. He sees the NUG as “the only game in town that can upend the junta,” and attributes the military's increasingly indiscriminate air strikes against civilians, schools, monasteries, and hospitals to their recognition that the NUG mechanism is working. The junta, he asserts, is losing the battle not just militarily, but in the political sphere, and in the minds of the people. He dismisses the junta's attempts to legitimize itself through promises of another sham election, stating that the Burmese people will never again be fooled by the military.
Maw Htun points out that the NUG has consistently championed federal democracy and human rights, and argues that its very existence has helped prevent an even worse situation from unfolding. In response to criticisms — such as the perceived inefficiency of endless Zoom meetings and drawn-out policy deliberations — he explains that these challenges stem from the NUG’s nature as a coalition government. With half of its cabinet composed of members from outside the NUG, decision-making can be slow and frustrating, “even for us,” he admits. Moreover, the need to protect sensitive information means that not all internal processes can be made publicly transparent. Maw Htun also acknowledges that the NUG hasn’t always been able to recruit the best and the brightest — but insists that those who have joined are among the bravest and most committed. In sum, he concedes that these dynamics make it difficult to project a singular, unified image.
Regarding concerns about Burmanization within the NUG, Maw Htun acknowledges that this dynamic does exist. However, he notes that it has not, at least so far, hindered his ability to do his work. He also recognizes the prominent role played by NLD members in the NUG, but views this as a natural consequence of their electoral mandate from the 2020 election. At the same time, he underscores the NUG’s commitment to open dialogue and internal freedom of expression: “We don’t have a muzzle on NUG members — we can freely talk, there is no censorship in NUG.”
Ultimately, Maw Htun sees both his work within the NUG and his deepening meditation practice as sources of clarity and renewed energy, empowering him to continue fighting for “the people who do not have voice” and to help build an “equitable, prosperous, and non-discriminatory system in the future.”