Episode #149: Funding a Revolution
On February 6th, 2021, Nandar Min Swe joined a Zoom call in her Los Angeles home with Zaw Wai Soe, who would soon become a NUG Minister. At that point, however, he was simply a colleague from the medical field who was horrified at the military coup that had taken place earlier in the week. He told Nandar, along with the 15-20 other medical professionals from the diaspora, that government healthcare employees had just staged a walkout, refusing to work for the new military leaders, and he was asking for their help in finding funds to support the striking medical professionals and their families. Little did they know it at the time, but this was the definitive act which led to the Civil Disobedience Movement; not long after, thousands of public servants from all sectors followed suit by boycotting their own respective offices, an unprecedented movement which continues to this day.
And Nandar couldn’t have known, either, that this call would be the start of her role as one of the lead fundraisers for the democratic movement, as she had no background in this task. Initially, her efforts consisted of casual solicitations from friends. In the weeks that followed, the CRPH (Committee Representing Pyidaungsu Hluttaw, a legislative body in exile) formed, and then the NUG (National Unity Government); they, in turn, started up the OFP (Official Fundraising Program) that authorized people like Nandar to raise funds on their behalf. So her first, tentative steps at fundraising soon turned into a national, and then an international effort to keep the democracy movement alive.
As the need for funds increased, Nandar helped sell NUG bonds, followed by the sales of subdivided plots of land owned by Min Aung Hlaing and the military, which can be redeemed upon a successful end to the revolution. These days, she is working on facilitating a cryptocurrency which can circumvent the military regime’s control over the national financial system.
Despite her fundraising successes, however, Nandar saw a developing problem in that most fundraising efforts were directed at Burmese donors, and she began to worry about the lack of outreach to non-Burmese communities. “Why are we digging deeper into our own pockets, and our own pockets are not that deep enough, no matter how much we dig into?” she asked herself. She felt that part of the reticence to focus on non-Burmese donors was based on Burmese cultural values. “You're not supposed to voice out your problems to other persons out of the house,” she explains. So for example, this perspective would be reflected in not wanting to highlight Myanmar’s struggles in communities where the Burmese diaspora lives, and in keeping up a happy front to mask one’s own inner pain. “They might be crying when they get home, but they put up this ‘happy face and nothing-happening’ type of thing,” she notes.
Nandar agrees with Phillipp Annawitt that the “culture of sacrifice” that has long existed within Burmese democracy movements is a major impediment to broadening the fundraising campaign. On a recent podcast episode, Annawitt described the willingness of Burmese to go way above and beyond in giving of their time and money to the cause. Annawitt explained how it is ultimately not sustainable as a model for a functioning government, and Nandar seconds this concern, saying “that type of mentality is the only driving force right now and ever, but the issue is how much it can be sustained.” She notes how many volunteers have since dropped away, as they had to balance their NUG work with their livelihood and family needs, and eventually became overwhelmed as the conflict stretched on.
The democratic movement has also suffered from not having easy access to celebrities or influencers, so important in this age of social media. In addition, Nandar notes how the lack of media attention only compounds this challenge. For example, she tried hard to bring the attention of upcoming rallies and documentaries to Los Angeles media, but there was little interest in picking it up. So two years into the attempted coup, the Burmese diaspora still continues to have to shoulder nearly this entire burden, unable to find a way to break through to a wider audience beyond their own bubble.
Nandar hopes that even if the numbers of those actively resisting the military remains circumscribed, it can at least include the diverse peoples that make up Myanmar. To this end, she makes a point of attending ethnic rallies and events in her area wherever possible. This is, in part, her way of atoning for not doing more to stand by them in previous years. “Like in Kachin State, how much the military had been abusing them? We had no idea; we had been living in our own bubbles! And we had been happy,” she notes. “Now that we know what the Burmese military had been doing to them for decades, and the past two years, we feel ashamed about it, to be honest. We were like, ‘Oh my God, we were such idiots to not know what's happening.’”
Nandar hopes that the recently passed Burma Act as part of the NDAA (National Defense Authorization Act) might be a breakthrough to getting access to more funds. But even though these funds are promised, many questions still remain as to how they can be accessed, and then delivered to places most in need. This is especially challenging as the military regime is demanding that any humanitarian aid coming into the country go through them, despite their long track record of corruption. “Even if you need to hug and kiss the villain to get some helping hand right… you should be doing it,” she says. “I totally agree with that. But the issue with current regime is that even if you make nice with them, it's not guaranteed that you will get what you want!”
Going forward, Nandar makes clear she is seeking a new and better country, rather than advocating for a specific party or policy. “I'm not an NLD supporter or a Daw Aung San Suu Kyi worshipper. I feel myself to be more like someone who wants to liberate Burma any way I can. And the only way I can right now is by fundraising.”