Blood on the Wires
Coming Soon…
The Telenor scandal is one of the most controversial chapters in modern Norwegian history, a case Nicolai Prydz describes as “the largest scandal in Norway, but it’s under the carpet. Nobody wants to tell it.” What began as a story of democratic optimism and corporate expansion became, in Prydz’s words, a tale of complicity, betrayal, and unaddressed crimes.
When Telenor entered Myanmar in 2014, the country was in the midst of a carefully staged opening. Only 7% of the population had mobile phones, and most lived without electricity. Yet Norway, the company’s majority owner, was determined to take advantage of what appeared to be a virgin market. To prepare the way, Norway lifted sanctions, forgave $3 billion in debt, and convinced Western creditors to halve theirs. According to Prydz, this generosity earned Telenor its license, calling it “kind of a gift.” The results were dramatic: within six years, Telenor had over 20 million users, generating $800 million annually and NOK 3.5 billion in dividends.
For Norway, the venture was presented as both a business success and a contribution to Myanmar’s democratization. Politicians and diplomats portrayed the project as a way to empower ordinary citizens with internet access and communications technology. But Prydz emphasizes that from the start, the democratic transition was never real. The 2008 constitution guaranteed the military 25% of seats in parliament and control over core ministries, including defense, home affairs, and border affairs. No matter the results of an election, ultimate power remained with the generals.
Even so, Norwegian officials acted with optimism. Prydz recalls diplomats in 2011 dismissing Aung San Suu Kyi’s relevance after years under house arrest, though he remembers a Yangon taxi driver who called her simply “Mama,” proof of her enduring popularity. He also recalls meeting Ko Jimmy, a legendary leader of the 1988 uprising, who had spent more years in prison than free. Ko Jimmy became one of Prydz’s friends, and his later fate would illustrate the lethal consequences of Telenor’s compliance.
The coup of February 2021 exposed these dangers. Almost immediately, the junta demanded sensitive telecom data: last known locations, call histories, and contact lists of dissidents. According to Myanmar Now, Telenor complied more than 200 times, each request sometimes involving hundreds of names. Prydz explained: “Of course, you don’t come back the 20th or 21st time if it’s not of any use. You come back if it’s efficient. And the military came back very many times to Telenor for telecom data, and Telenor complied.” When asked, the company never denied handing over data. Instead, it said refusal would have placed employees at “unacceptable risk.”
The decision not to destroy the data marked a fateful turning point. In Kabul, operators had burned records when the Taliban advanced, but in Myanmar Telenor left everything intact—including EU-sanctioned surveillance equipment installed in 2018 but not yet activated. This equipment could monitor calls and messages across an entire network in real time, a devastating tool in the hands of a dictatorship. Rather than disable or destroy it, Telenor sold its Myanmar operations in 2022 to Lebanon’s M1 Group and Shwe Byain Phyu, a conglomerate with deep military ties. Prydz condemned the decision: “Okay, I’m not going to shoot you, but I will hand over my gun to somebody that is willing to do it. You could never do that.”
The consequences were catastrophic. Opposition leaders, MPs, unionists, and countless ordinary citizens were tracked, arrested, tortured, and in some cases killed. Reports indicated that names on the junta’s lists often came from interrogations under torture, which were then cross-checked through telecom data requests. Norwegian judge Hanne Sophie Greve has warned that Telenor and the Norwegian government may be guilty of aiding and abetting crimes against humanity. In her words, supplying this information was no different from manufacturing a bomb that another party detonates.
Prydz repeatedly calls for a full, independent investigation into every stage of Telenor’s involvement: its entry into Myanmar, its data-handling practices during the coup, and the sale to junta-linked companies. Yet Norway’s government and Telenor itself have avoided such inquiries. This silence is especially glaring given that Norway prides itself on its human rights record and awards the Nobel Peace Prize. Experts such as political scientist Stein Tønnesson, human rights judge Hanne Sophie Greve, and commentators in NRK already argue that Norway has “spent its moral capital” in Myanmar, and Prydz warns that without transparency, its reputation will remain tarnished.
For Prydz, the scandal is not abstract. It is deeply personal. The central figure in his book is Ko Jimmy, the democracy activist he met in 2012. Ko Jimmy spent most of his life imprisoned for peaceful protest, and continued to use a Telenor SIM card until his arrest. In July 2022, he was executed by the junta. Prydz believes data supplied by Telenor may have helped the military locate him. Remembering his friend, he writes with grief and anger that Norwegians failed him and countless others.
Reflecting on the scandal, Prydz insists the story must be told not to humiliate Norway but to preserve its values: “The reason why I wrote my book is because I love my country. I love Norway. And I think the only way to learn is to be open and discuss what happened—and also repair the consequences, if necessary.” He challenges both Telenor and Norway’s government to investigate the full extent of the damage and to provide reparations where possible.
The Telenor affair is not just a corporate misstep. It is a moral reckoning for a country long celebrated as a champion of peace. The unanswered question remains: will Norway confront its complicity, or continue to sweep the truth under the carpet?