Episode #317: The Usual Suspects
“There is absolutely something different about Myanmar,” says Derek Mitchell. “When I was ambassador, and people would come visit, they always said it was the most fascinating place they'd ever been in their lives. I think everybody who does work on Myanmar has a story about what it was that connected them, that when you when it touches you—even diplomats—they always look back on the Burma assignment as being somehow special. There's something about the place and about the issue that sticks with people. So when it goes through its unfortunate cycles of tragedy, I always say it breaks the heart of every person that touches it, because the country deserves so much better.”
Derek Mitchell’s engagement with Myanmar began unexpectedly in the early 1990s. It wasn’t through deliberate career planning but rather a serendipitous encounter: unemployed at the time, he attended a human rights event featuring Aung San Suu Kyi, who had just received an award. Inspired, he picked up a copy of her book, Freedom from Fear, that evening and read it cover to cover. He never thought that Burma would be relevant to his career; however, years later, he became very involved with the country.
His first visit there occurred in 1995, after Aung San Suu Kyi’s release from house arrest. Meeting her in person profoundly impacted him. At the time, Myanmar was under strict military rule, defined by political repression and ethnic conflict. And even though Mitchell’s career went in a different direction at that time, Myanmar remained a place of deep personal significance. He followed developments, read diplomatic cables, and maintained an interest in the country’s slow and complicated transformation.
His role in shaping U.S. policy towards Myanmar began when he was appointed as the first Special Representative to the country in 2011, during a pivotal moment when U.S. policy towards Myanmar was shifting. Since 1988, sanctions had been the dominant tool used by the United States to pressure the military regime, seen as both a punishment and a moral stance against repression. However, by the late 2000s, a reassessment began. The Obama administration sought a more flexible approach, testing whether engagement could drive reform. Mitchell was tasked with determining whether Myanmar’s new government, led by President Thein Sein, was genuinely committed to reform, or merely a tactical move to ease international pressure.
Upon his arrival in the country, Mitchell saw that the Thein Sein administration exhibited a different tone from past, military-led governments. There were gestures of openness—political prisoners were being released, civil society restrictions were easing, economic and political modernization were underway, discussions on peace processes with ethnic groups were underway, and overtures were being made to Aung Sang Suu Kyi. However, the military administration at that time, controlled by Commander-in-Chief Min Aung Hlaing, still exhibited a rigid, traditional, military mindset and showed no interest in the Thein Sein government’s reforms. They continued to operate autonomously, particularly in ethnic conflict zones, where offensives continued despite government-led peace initiatives. However, in spite of this contrast to past and present military administrations, skepticism remained about Thein Sein’s government. “There was a lot of risk in those days,” he says. “We weren't certain of anything and were certainly aware that they could be playing games with us.”
Mitchell played a key role in developing a U. S. “action-for-action” policy, wherein the U.S. would incrementally ease sanctions as Myanmar demonstrated tangible reforms. A turning point came when Secretary of State Hillary Clinton visited in 2011, signaling a new phase in engagement. “Diplomacy is not just being reactive, but being forward-leaning and trying to help shape outcomes you’re looking to achieve,” Mitchell points out. This visit, accompanied by the release of hundreds of political prisoners and initial ceasefire efforts, set the stage for stronger diplomatic relations. Then in 2012, Mitchell was appointed as the country’s first Ambassador to Myanmar after more than two decades.
However, the process of engagement was not a smooth one because within Myanmar, deep divisions persisted between the civilian government, the military, and ethnic nationalities, with those underlying tensions bubbling just under the surface. Moreover, when Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD) transitioned from an opposition party to a participant in government, new issues arose: although by that time a symbol of freedom against tyranny, Aung San Suu Kyi was often resistant to outside advice and displayed a firm, at times inflexible, political approach. Famously, she downplayed her icon status, portraying herself as just another politician, and this concerned Mitchell because he felt it could indicate a lack of understanding about the strong leadership role she needed to play to unite the country across its many divisions, transcend party politics and help wrestle the country out from under the military’s influence. More concerning for him still, her political instincts did not always align with democratic pluralism. She focused primarily on consolidating her party’s power rather than building inclusive institutions that could bridge Myanmar’s ethnic and political divides. “You have to be able to get along with people you don’t agree with,” he says. “That’s the art of politics; you find a way.”
The 2015 elections were a critical moment. The NLD won by a landslide, and the peaceful transfer of power was a milestone in Myanmar’s democratic transition. However, the 2008 Constitution enabled the military to retain significant control, guaranteeing them 25% of parliamentary seats and control over key ministries. While many hoped that Suu Kyi’s leadership would usher in a new era of inclusive governance, ethnic minorities remained wary. Her administration prioritized national unity, but many in the country’s ethnic communities hoped for a more federalist approach.
As Ambassador, Mitchell advocated for active engagement on the part of the US; he felt this was a more effective means of fostering sustainable reform. While sanctions carried a moral weight and signaled opposition to the military regime’s actions, Mitchell believed they were insufficient in achieving long-term change on their own. As he put it, “We have to recognize that Myanmar is a country, not a cause,” emphasizing the need for pragmatic, sustained engagement rather than symbolic gestures. His experience in the 1990s had shown him that isolation did not necessarily lead to democratic progress and instead risked ceding influence to other actors, like China. He believed that engagement, coupled with a measured easing of sanctions, could allow reform-minded figures in Myanmar’s government to gain leverage within their own system and continue working toward democratic progress.
The wisdom of this approach to sanctions was not universally accepted within the Obama administration; some wanted sanctions lifted more quickly. Aung San Suu Kyi’s shifting positions also played a key role in the sanctions discussion—she initially supported them as a means of pressuring the military, but later advocated for their removal to encourage economic growth and demonstrate the benefits of democratic governance. Mitchell’s approach sought to find a balance between her divergent perspectives, so any easing of sanctions would not undermine efforts to hold the military accountable while also supporting the country's democratic transition and economic transformation. This was especially relevant following the NLD’s 2015 election. Mitchell points out that if Myanmar had remained under a “do not invest” sign, it could serve to undermine public confidence in democratic rule.
Tragically, the Rohingya crisis marked a significant turning point in both the country’s modern history and U.S. relations. It shattered remaining optimism about Myanmar’s path forward, exposing the fragility of reforms and the military's enduring grip on power. Mitchell, who had repeatedly visited Rakhine State during his tenure, had long warned of an escalation in the decades-long tensions there. The Rohingya were marginalized and denied citizenship, and he saw their status as uniquely vulnerable. “I realized that was a ticking time bomb, and that it could go off at any time,” he recalls. Mitchell relays how he had constantly urged both Myanmar’s civilian leadership and the international community to take preventative action. However, he notes that these warnings were met with political inertia and bureaucratic caution. Then, after attacks by the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army (ARSA) in 2017, the military’s brutal response quickly mushroomed into what was later classified as genocide.
Looking back, Mitchell sees the Rohingya criss as not just an ethnic conflict, but a microcosm of Myanmar’s broader struggles with nationalism, identity, and the role of diplomacy in a state where the military still retained ultimate control, and where deep-seated ethnic tensions could be weaponized for political ends. He reflects that the 2021 coup reveals in retrospect how fragile Myanmar’s democratic transition really was, noting that while reforms had created a veneer of civilian governance, the military’s grip on power had never truly been loosened. Mitchell acknowledges that, despite international engagement and support for democratization, Myanmar’s political transformation was always vulnerable to reversal. The institutions that were meant to ensure democratic governance had been systematically weakened or co-opted, leaving civilian leaders with limited real authority. “We thought we had more time,” he says sadly. “We thought we were helping build something sustainable, but the foundations were weaker than we hoped.” While he still holds to the basic tenant that engagement can encourage reforms, he points out that on their own, they are unable to fully dismantle the fundamental power structures that upheld military dominance.
Regarding post-coup Myanmar, Michtell observes that the country has entered an era of profound instability and resistance, far different from the reform era he worked within. He notes how the military takeover has galvanized an unprecedented level of public defiance, with a broad coalition of actors—including young activists, ethnic armed groups, and members of the ousted government—unified against military rule. Unlike past uprisings, the current resistance is more decentralized, grassroots and determined, leveraging new tactics and technology. At the same time, he warns that without a coherent leadership and strategy, the opposition risks fragmentation, which could prolong the crisis. He believes that the military’s actions have fundamentally changed Myanmar’s political landscape, making a return to the previous balance of power unlikely.
“External action is never going to make the determining difference inside a country, certainly in a situation like this,” he says, reflecting on how the international community can play a supporting role in the country’s continuing democratic aspirations. “But I very much believe that much more pressure from the outside is necessary and has been necessary, and there has not been enough! I mean, from day one, we needed to shut down their weapons; their now it's their fuel, their money, their families, access to international society, all of that. There should be absolute, airtight pressure, not just from the United States, but from the frontline states to this regime, to say, ‘this is unacceptable.’”
If you found this discussion of interest, you may also enjoy the following episodes from our archive:
· Scot Marciel describes how his diplomatic career in Southeast Asia—particularly his tenure as U.S. Ambassador to Myanmar from 2016 to 2020—provided a firsthand view of the challenges in fostering democracy in a country with deep-rooted institutional and societal fractures. He reflects on the difficulty of supporting democratic transitions when governing systems are resistant to change. The struggle to build national unity amid longstanding ethnic divisions brings up broader questions about whether international diplomatic efforts can genuinely shape a country’s internal political evolution.
· Adelina Kamal explains how her years of experience in ASEAN’s humanitarian response branch highlight the frustrating limitations of regional mechanisms when faced with political crises like that in Myanmar. She reflects on how bureaucratic constraints and state-controlled aid distribution often prevent meaningful assistance from reaching those in greatest need. The intersection of geopolitics and humanitarian work underscores the broader dilemma of whether international aid efforts can function effectively when they are forced to deal with the very regimes responsible for the crises they are charged with alleviating.
· Jiri Sitler tells of the Czech Republic’s historical engagement with Myanmar’s pro-democracy movement, drawing parallels between the Velvet Revolution and the Burmese struggle against authoritarianism. His reflections on Václav Havel’s support for Myanmar’s dissidents highlight the power of international solidarity, while also acknowledging the limitations of foreign intervention in domestic struggles. The relationship between historical trauma and democratic aspirations raises essential questions about whether external democratic models can be effectively applied to a nation with its own distinct legacy of military rule and ethnic fragmentation.
· Mu Sochua describes how her exile and activism against Cambodia’s Hun Sen regime have given her a deep, first-hand understanding of what it means to resist authoritarianism under relentless pressure. Her reflections on the experiences of genocide, dictatorship, and external political maneuvering reveal how deeply entrenched systems of power can suppress democratic aspirations for generations. The parallel between Cambodia’s and Myanmar’s struggles highlights how cycles of oppression and resistance are shaped not only by internal actors, but also external forces.
· David Mathieson notes that his decades of research and advocacy on Myanmar have led him to question the long-term survival of a military institution that has continuously acted against its own long-term interests. He describes the military’s ingrained sense of entitlement, its self-destructive policies, and its brutal repression of opposition as symptoms of a deeply flawed and unsustainable system. The ongoing tension between state control and popular resistance highlights the challenges of dismantling entrenched power structures that define themselves by their capacity for violence rather than governance.