Episode #279: Cracking the Code
Bradley grew up in Myanmar, witnessing firsthand the country's rapid transformation from an isolated, internet-deprived nation to a modern, hyper-connected society dominated by a generation of digital natives. Since the early 2010s, the internet has been a critical battleground between the people and a regime determined to control them. In the wake of the coup, this fight over digital space has become fiercer and more consequential than ever. Bradley’s organization, Myanmar Internet Project, is dedicated to monitoring and exposing the regime’s abuses of digital power, particularly their frequent internet shutdowns aimed at concealing their crimes against civilian populations. At the same time, Bradley works to educate and empower Myanmar’s citizens, spreading digital literacy and demonstrating how technology and the internet can be wielded as powerful tools for freedom and democracy.
Before the pseudo-democratic reforms of Thein Sein, telephones in Myanmar were a luxury reserved for the wealthy and, more notably, those with governmental connections. As Toe Zaw Latt explained on a recent episode, having a telephone in the home was a clear symbol of privilege and power. SIM cards were technically available, but their prohibitive cost—up to $5,000—meant they were out of reach for most people, confined to the affluent and well-connected. Internet access was equally limited, with internet cafes serving as the primary, though expensive, gateways to the online world. Yet these were not cheap, as Bradley recalls that it cost around 1,000 Kyat for just one hour, a price that was far beyond what ordinary people could afford.
For the middle class, who could occasionally afford internet cafes, they were far from being an entryway to global connectivity and freedom: because of how few Burmese used them, it was easy for the government to control and regulate online activities. Censorship was rampant, and websites critical of the junta, such as CNN and the BBC, were routinely blocked. Even more troubling, the cafes were required to monitor and report their customers' online activities to the authorities. Government spies frequently loitered there, keeping a close watch on what people were searching for and posting. Internet access was not only expensive, but came with a significant risk—rather than offering freedom of information and expression, it placed Myanmar's netizens in the government's crosshairs.
The real turning point came in 2012, in what Bradley refers to as the “telecom revolution.” The government opened up Myanmar's telecom market to international companies, allowing firms like Ooredoo and Telenor to enter alongside the state-run MPT and Mytel (the latter a joint venture between the Myanmar regime and Vietnam’s military). This transformed the market, with the cost of SIM cards and mobile data plans plummeting, causing phones and internet access to rapidly spread—Myanmar transitioned from virtually no phone or internet access to a smartphone-saturated society almost overnight! What made this transformation so unique was the leapfrogging of technological stages: Myanmar bypassed the typical progression from personal computer-based internet browsing and SMS texting straight to smartphones. This dealt a significant blow to the regime's control over information. As the number of users skyrocketed, regulating and monitoring online activities became far more challenging, allowing for even more freedom of information and expression. Even so, “difficult” does not mean “impossible”; censorship and surveillance still persisted to some degree well after the advent of affordable smartphones.
That said, while websites could still be blocked, social media was always accessible. In the early 2010s, Myanmar saw a rapid surge in social media adoption, and Facebook virtually became synonymous with the internet for most people. This was partly due to its ease of use and partly because Facebook mobile data plans were offered at special, low prices—a consequence of Myanmar’s lack of net neutrality. Social media fundamentally changed how the Burmese people viewed and used the internet. Rather than being utilized as a tool for work and productivity—although a significant amount of commerce does occur on Facebook in Myanmar—the internet became a place primarily for content consumption and leisure.
But ironically, while social media became a new platform for free expression, it also provided the regime with three powerful advantages.
First, it left the Burmese people vulnerable to and unprepared for exploitation. With all the changes in the internet landscape and the primacy of social media, Burmese citizens were suddenly thrust into an environment rife with misinformation, without the benefit of having learned digital safety and analysis skills. Social media turned the online space into a virtual town square, offering endless socializing and entertainment at one's fingertips… along with misinformation, manipulation, and the influence of algorithms that trap users in echo chambers and content consumption loops. Slowly, government propaganda and disinformation campaigns infiltrated the Burmese people’s online spaces that were through cheap, popular, and deeply integrated into daily life. The very tool that had the potential to expand freedom of expression came to be used to manipulate and control the public on a mass scale.
Perhaps the most infamous and devastating use of this power was during the Rohingya genocide. (On a recent episode, Igor Blaževič compared the cold-blooded Burmese disinformation campaigns with what he had witnessed in the Bosnian War, and indeed, it spread rapidly, with the military exploiting the internet to shape the narrative, suppress information, and manipulate public opinion.) By controlling the flow of online discourse, the military fostered widespread support for its so-called campaign to restore order in a “lawless” state, leaving little room for public sympathy for the Rohingya. Military loyalists flooded social media with hatred, while at the same time, the military imposed internet blackouts across much of Rakhine State, especially in Rohingya-dominated areas. This blackout effectively isolated the Rohingya, cutting them off from each other and the outside world. Not only were they unable to access information about the atrocities happening around them, but they were also prevented from alerting the world to their plight. The military’s combination of internet shutdowns, censorship, and propaganda was so effective that for many in Myanmar, the truth about the events of 2017 only came to light after the coup in 2021.
The second major advantage social media afforded the military was the creation of an easily searchable database of users' comments and content, all tied to real identities. While the government couldn’t compel Western platforms to remove content it deemed objectionable, it could track down Burmese citizens who accessed it. The linking of online activity with real-world consequences played a pivotal role in the military’s control over public discourse. During the Rohingya crisis, early bloggers and activists who attempted to raise awareness of the military’s actions were arrested, sometimes for nothing more than sending emails or writing about the repression.
Finally, the military still has a heavy thumb on internet use. In particular, internet shutdowns remain a widespread and ongoing tool of repression for the military. Selective blackouts are have been and continue to be a strategic and tactical weapon for the military. They disrupt the ability of communities to warn each other of impending danger, share intelligence about military movements, or coordinate large-scale resistance efforts. While that shutdown in Rakhine State is perhaps the most well-known example, many ethnic resistance areas across the country have also faced, and continue to face, similar blackouts. These shutdowns are often implemented in regions where resistance to military rule is strongest, making access to telecommunications particularly difficult for those who need it most.
One of the earliest examples of strategic blackouts occurred even a decade before the Rohingya genocide, during the Saffron Revolution in 2007. As the military brutally cracked down on protesting monks, they shut down the internet and phone lines to suppress the truth and prevent the world from witnessing their actions (U Gambira described in a previous episode how footage needed to be smuggled out through the US Embassy’s secure diplomatic pouches).
The impact of these shutdowns on civilian life is devastating, and leave a profound psychological impact. They cut off people's access to education, commerce, and critical information. Victims of military atrocities are silenced, unable to share their stories with the world at a time when images and videos on social media are crucial for raising awareness and garnering international support—without internet access, they are effectively cut off from any hope of attention or help. This isolation from potentially life-saving information leads to intense fear and anxiety, fostering a culture of paranoia and uncertainty. Rumors dominate and people begin to act erratically in the absence of reliable information. They ultimately strike at the heart of civil society, leaving communities isolated, vulnerable, and voiceless. “Having internet or having information is life and death in those areas,” Bradley says. “If you have internet you can at least know if the airplanes are coming, if the battles are becoming intensive in the areas that you live. But without that you don't know anything! You cannot run away from air strike, you cannot run away if the airplane is over your head; there’s very little chance that you survive.”
While it may not be popular to admit, modern society has become so reliant on the internet that going without it for any significant period can be a serious shock. Bradley’s office held a simulated internet shutdown to mark the one year anniversary of the Rakhine shut down, “and we couldn't last 30 minutes before freaking out! The situation became so awkward, and we were talking, talking, talking… and eventually we don't have anything to talk about at all.” While the initial awkwardness and discomfort of isolation may fade, prolonged internet isolation leads to what Bradley calls “different realities,” where communities just a few hundred miles apart experience radically different lives. Over time, these differences shape distinct worldviews, making it seem as if people in these neighboring areas live in entirely separate realities.
Even during periods of intense military bombardment and widespread pillaging, communities detached from the warfare often remain blissfully unaware of the devastation occurring just hours away. Though they use the internet regularly, they aren’t inundated with images or footage of military atrocities. Instead, they are exposed to content from military apologists dismissing the violence as rumors or denying victims’ claims. This distortion of reality leads many to believe that reports of war crimes or the targeting of civilian villages are nothing more than anti-establishment propaganda, exaggerated at best.
Since the coup, the military’s tactics have become more widely understood, prompting people to adopt more sophisticated methods to bypass military controls— something Bradley and his colleagues do much to support. He has helped people have taken steps to enhance their digital security. VPNs have become ubiquitous, and secure messaging platforms like Signal are now widely used, as the public has grown increasingly aware of the importance of anonymity and encryption; police checkpoints frequently search the contents of people’s phones, and possessing images or footage of protests or military crimes can result in immediate arrest.
In addition, many have found ways even to turn the internet against the military regime. Activists and ordinary citizens alike are monetizing content and using online platforms to raise funds for the resistance. Some communities are bypassing military-controlled internet entirely by turning to private satellite internet services, ensuring they can communicate freely and securely without government interference. This shift represents a significant escalation in the digital battle against the regime, as people continue to find innovative ways to fight back online.
Because of the way the military controls Myanmar’s internet space, many have become reliant on alternative technologies. For example, although incredibly expensive, satellite internet has become a necessity in many regions where the military has completely cut off phone and internet services.
Despite the harsh realities Myanmar netizens currently face, Bradley holds an optimistic vision for the future, and that, as he puts it, “the worst has already happened.” The fears and inhibitions that once characterized Myanmar's pre-coup political landscape have been shattered, opening up limitless potential for the country's future, and believes Myanmar could become the “Asian Wakanda” if the revolution succeeds and if reconstruction efforts are “future-oriented.”
But this potential can only be realized with wisdom and foresight. Bradley insists that the internet will be key in this process—by leveling the playing field, Myanmar could avoid repeating the mistakes of other nations. With a decentralized and secure internet, the country could emerge from this revolution with the tools needed to build a truly progressive and free society.