Episode #55: Beaten but not Broken
When Jonathan fell to the ground, the only thing he could think to do was to somehow shield his head from the blows and kicks coming from all directions.
He had never before been in a physical altercation of any kind before, and yet here he was, his reflexes automatically kicking in as he tried to protect himself from the soldiers of a murderous regime, who are not above beating people to death in the streets in broad daylight. Jonathan’s “crime” was peacefully protesting against the military coup.
While he survived that beating with only minor injuries, his journey would only get darker. Hauled off in a police van and taken to jail, he was then transferred to Insein Prison—a name infamous for the decades of torture and death that have occurred within its walls. Walking into the prison gates was a surreal experience for him, made grimmer by the fact that he had no idea what he would be charged with or how long he would be forced to remain behind these walls.
Oddly enough, although he had grown up in an increasingly free society, his parents had always prepared him for the possibility of landing in prison; they were well aware of the mercurial nature of the regime. They had given him valuable advice for just such a scenario, which an older prisoner confirmed while they were being transferred between prisons: Don't stand out, don’t talk after 9 pm, don’t reveal too much about yourself.
Jonathan was placed in a large, windowless cell with a capacity for about 100 people. All phones had of course been confiscated, but he still had his watch. This would prove to be of great value, as it was the only way he and his cellmates would have any idea what time of day it was while they were incarcerated.
And yet, as bad as this new reality was for Jonathan, he was one of the more fortunate ones, by far. He had been arrested at the beginning of March, and landed in jail before soldiers began to employ more extreme forms of violence. Although he saw some fellow prisoners—including one elected official—emerge from interrogation sessions bloodied and beaten to a pulp, this type of punishment was never meted out to him personally. And luckily, his eventual 3-year sentence ended up being commuted to less than a month.
To this day, Jonathan has no idea why they released him so early, but he has his theories, such as the pressure that outside groups began to place on the regime to release nonviolent protesters.
His time in prison afforded Jonathan time to reflect on the on-going situation. One of his insights centered on the power of unity. He notes that the Tatmadaw has always ruled by creating division and distrust among the different ethnic and religious groups, but in prison, he developed a number of deep friendships with people of different backgrounds. His experiences helped him realize that if the Burmese people developed these diverse, strong relationships on a large scale, it would help defeat the age-old “divide and conquer” tactics of the military.
Jonathan also began reflecting on his own Buddhist background, as he realized with disgust how much the military has perverted and degraded Buddhist practice over the years in Myanmar, not only when they exerted direct control over the country, but also as they lurked in the background. Today he is trying to get back to the roots of the practice, recalling the value of his time as a monk, and returning to the basic teachings of mindfulness which he finds refreshes him while stabilizing his mind in these uncertain times.
Even though he was only incarcerated a matter of weeks, Jonathan had a difficult time adjusting to life outside the prison walls. He missed the strong friendships he had formed in prison, and was unsure how to fit back in normal society. At least he had retained some sense of purpose. A professional documentarian who had studied in Australia, he was in the middle of editing his protest footage at the time of his arrest, and which he hoped to get back to, serving the revolution according to his strengths.
For so many devout Burmese Buddhists today, the most pressing—and horrifying—question is whether the protest movement can succeed by continuing its nonviolent ethos. While Jonathan is unsure which direction to go in, he doesn’t mince words in acknowledging the stakes: “If we want to go nonviolently, and to think like that, we have to prepare to die. If we don't want to kill, we have to be prepared to be killed. And a lot of people have to do that. And a lot of people have to show that. And a lot of people will die for it.”