Episode #103: A Delicate Balance
To trace the origins of US-Burma relations, we have to back to Griffin’s Wharf in Boston in 1773, when American patriots threw chests of British tea into the harbor to protest Britain’s imposition of onerous taxes. It was one of the events that led to the American Revolution, Following their independence, the new American government sought to acquire its tea from China, which developed into trade with India, and eventually to the first known official contact with Burma. From that initial interaction, teak and other goods flowed into American homes, while Christianity became America’s biggest export to Burma. Maybe it was serendipity—American Baptist missionaries fleeing India in 1813 “got on the first ship, which was going to Burma, quite by chance.”
This is just one of many fascinating facts that Kenton Clymer found when doing research for his book, A Delicate Relationship: The United States and Burma/Myanmar since 1945. Our conversation takes off in the waning days of World War II. Clymer notes that while the British were primarily concerned with trying to stop the dissolution of their empire, “the Americans were quite open to any of the Southeast Asian independence movements as long as they were not Communist.” Mao’s revolution in China immediately thrust neighboring Burma into an important geopolitical position, and along with Korea and Vietnam, as one of the key hotspots in the postwar world.
After General Aung San’s assassination, U Nu became the first Prime Minister. The Americans saw him “as a very good person, a very religious person. But they did think that he was not a very good administrator, aside from his philosophy, which was definitely Socialist.” Clymer places this concern within the context of the 1950s, when the American government was particularly worried about “weak leaders in these Third World countries not being able to stand up to Communism.” In contrast, Ne Win was seen as an anti-Communist strongman who could potentially be a more promising ally in the region. Indeed, Clymer notes that when Ne Win initially took over power in 1958, it was deemed a “polite coup” by the US, and although no evidence has ever surfaced, some even suspected American involvement.
Clymer explains how rocky the 1950s were for the Burmese government. One reason was that “many of the other ethnic groups were very suspicious of a ‘Union of Burma,’ which would have a Burman majority and Burman control,” and some fought against it. The Karens posed perhaps the greatest threat in this regard, leading an insurgency that nearly toppled the government. Many of these ethnic groups had close ties with American missionaries and had fought alongside the Allies during World War II, and so had been hoping for greater autonomy. This placed the Americans in a somewhat strange position: on the one hand, they were inclined to view the country’s ethnic minorities more favorably than the Bamar majority, and also had that close historical relationship with them; on the other, they supported a strong, Burman-controlled central government—which those same ethnic minority populations were resisting—in order to counter the global spread of Communism.
Communism is the second reason why the 1950s was such a complex and challenging decade to navigate for the Burmese government. The Communist Party of Burma (BCP) was seeking representation in the government while simultaneously cultivating alliances among the ethnic insurgents. At the same time, Mao’s Communist victory in China sent scores of Nationalist (KMT) soldiers retreating into northern Burma which, in turn, drew Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) soldiers across the border. The situation became even more volatile when the CIA began covertly supporting the KMT.
So with ethnic rebellions underway, Communists angling for control, and both the Americans and Chinese actively engaged in operations that destabilized the country within its borders, the central government was only barely able to hang on.
During those years, Ne Win was not viewed as a friend of Communist China (as later evidenced by the 1967 anti-Chinese riots in Rangoon which he has been blamed for), and as noted above, was seen a potentially strong ally by many in Washington. However, according to Clymer, that all changed in 1960, when Ne Win and his wife checked into Walter Reed Hospital during a visit to the United States. “His wife, Kitty, is there along with her entourage. They're going up and down the hall looking for a nurse or something, and then a screeching voice comes out from one of the neighboring rooms, using a racial epithet and telling him to get out of there…[It may well] have been Mamie Eisenhower, the wife of the president, which is kind of unexpected, because Eisenhower had a reputation as being quite moderate on racial issues and so forth.” However, Clymer has been able to establish that Ne Win was indeed in the hospital on the same day that Eisenhower visited, lending plausibility to this theory. Regardless, Ne Win became so incensed at this insult that he vowed to never eat American corn again, and the US government spent the next decade doing all they could do repair the damage.
Another relevant situation that Clymer describes in weaving together the story of Burma-US relations is the trial of Gordon Seagrave, a missionary doctor in Shan state. Reflective of the complex situation in Burma after it gained independence from Britain, the Karen rebellion had spilled over into Shan territory, and one regiment was being led by a ethnic Kachin commander. The Burmese military pushed them out of their stronghold, and they ended up staying in Namkham, where Seagrave had his hospital. In 1950, Seagrave was convicted of high treason, with the accusation that he had aided and abetted the rebels and provided them with medicine. The American government was unsure about how, or even if, to become involved. They needed good relations with the Burmese government in pursuit of their anti-Communist aims and so did not want to appear to be meddling in the country’s domestic affairs, and yet they were also cognizant of the American public’s perception of a “saintly surgeon… on trial by these colonial peoples.” Seagrave wanted to appeal his conviction, though the State Department was ambivalent about getting involved, so Seagrave chose to file the appeal on his own. The main charge was thrown out, though he was still convicted of a lesser charge, but freed in exchange for time served. The Americans were relieved, hoping that would be the end of it, but Seagrave appealed even that lesser conviction, and was finally exonerated completely. He returned to his Shan hospital… assiduously avoiding politics for the rest of his life.
After leading what is now referred to as a “caretaker government,” Ne Win returned power to U Nu in 1960. But in 1962, he forcibly seized power again by launching a coup, a move that kept the military entrenched at the helm of government for decades. At the time, the primary concern on the American side was ensuring that Burma didn’t fall into the Soviet or Chinese camp as a result. Clymer details the State Department’s determination: “They do conclude that he is genuinely nonaligned. While he certainly isn't going to be close to the Americans or the West in general, he's also not going to turn the country over to the Chinese or the Russians. And so the Americans say that they can live with him. It's not going to be a close relationship. But they can live with that. And so they make their peace, essentially with Ne Win. And that's how that's how it goes for the rest of the other decades.”
For the next 26 years, the US looked on as civil liberties continued to erode, the economy collapsed, ethnic groups pushed for greater rights, scores of Indians were exiled, and the country became increasingly isolated and shut off from the rest of the world. However, through this all, Ne Win continued to adhere to his non-alignment course, including resisting Chinese pressure to speak out on American aggressions in Vietnam. Even as various resistance groups sought support to overthrow Ne Win, including one faction led by U Nu, the US declined to be involved, and so Ne Win’s grip on power remained.
Besides Communism, the only other real area of American government interest in Burma concerned the growing narcotic epidemic, exemplified by President Richard Nixon’s “War On Drugs.” There were KMT soldiers ensconced in northern Burma who resisted any efforts to leave, and began to cultivate drugs as a way to fund their continued armed struggle against the Chinese Communists. But when they saw the hopelessness of their cause, they simply became drug barons, settling into what is known as the “Golden Triangle.” As Ne Win was staunchly opposed to drugs, he accepted American support, including aircraft and intelligence sharing, to eradicate the poppy fields. However, it is uncertain how effective this collaboration was, and in fact human rights activists have even discovered that the Tatmadaw used the chemical sprays on human targets in the country’s ethnic regions. “The drug trade was actually quite important to Burma's economy generally,” Clymer notes. “So they had to tolerate a certain amount of it.”
The perception of Burma, and the shape of US relations, changed irrevocably in 1988, with the violent crackdown on student protests and the nullification of the subsequent election. The anti-Communist prism through which the American government’s Burma policy had been viewed for decades changed to one of human rights; Aung San Suu Kyi became its figurehead. Although Congress pushed hard for sanctions, with strong bipartisan support, on the Burmese military government, both Presidents George H.W. Bush and Bill Clinton were relucent to impose them. This was likely “[not only] because they didn't like Congress telling them what to do, but also because they felt a need to have more flexibility in dealing with these issues, and the Congress was more emotional about reflecting the will of the people that were interested in Burmese affairs, and the great influence advancing Suu Kyi, because she was so charismatic and so persuasive.”
President George W. Bush initially came into office without much interest in Myanmar, as the country was now called. However, this changed on May 30, 2003 when a convoy carrying Aung San Suu Kyi was violently attacked in Depayin, with 70 NLD supporters losing their lives. Bush supported harsh sanctions, and his wife, Laura, became a strong ally to the democracy movement, “something of a hero” to the Burmese, in Clymer’s words.
From there, Clymer sums up some important developments in recent Myanmar history: the Saffron Revolution in 2007, Cyclone Nargis in 2008, the general election of 2010 and the by-elections of 2012, the visits of Secretary of State Hilary Clinton and President Barack Obama, culminating in the NLD’s electoral victory in 2015. This is where Clymer’s book leaves off, but here he expands on the history that has occurred following its publication. He notes that the US-Myanmar relations were “very good” during that time, with the notable exception of the Rohingya crisis. “Aung San Suu Kyi lost her luster when she defended the military in the in the international court and refused to speak in favor of the Rohingya. The big question we all had, at least I had was, what does she really believe?” Clymer opines that “Trump probably knew nothing at all about Burma,” and that the State Department became increasingly concerned because of this.
As a historian and a scholar who has tracked the Burmese military’s grip on power over the decades, Clymer is carefully observing both how the Americans respond to the current coup, as well as how the democracy movement develops. He references a recent essay by Marvin Ott at the Wilson Center advocating American support for the resistance movement. As Ott is a former CIA analyst, this essay caught Clymer’s attention. “I was shocked that he would say that. But if he says it, I think he's reflecting scuttlebutt that's being talked about in the halls, he would know about that, as if there might be some movement along that line.”
While Clymer sees recurring cycles at play in the current movement, he also has reason for optimism. “They're just a whole different generation,” he says, commenting on the current group of Gen-Z activists. “They're not going to put up with it. Marvin also made the point in this essay, incidentally, that the military is fighting for its life, and that they may not control much more than their bases. So in that sense, it was kind of optimistic about the outcome of things in Burma. The new generation is just not going to allow it to go back to the way it was. So I’m kind of hoping that's true.”