Romancing the Revolution

By AUNG NAING OO

On Christmas Eve in 1995, Zaw Min, the assistant foreign affairs secretary of the ABSDF, visited a mysterious little office on Ramkhamhaeng Road in Bangkok. An ex-Kuomintang colonel, who was by then a Taiwanese national, and an American shared the office. Both worked with the Mon in the resistance movement. Zaw Min's arrival coincided with a plan to establish a rebel army.

The army was to be called the "Homsa Command," after the Homsa or Hintha, a drake-like mythical bird which was the Mon national symbol. Zaw Min, who had visited the duo frequently, was unexpectedly awarded the rank of a captain for his “commitment to the revolution”—despite the fact that he was an official of the ABSDF. He was presented with a certificate as proof of his appointment.

Considering the appointment as mere fun, Zaw Min accepted it. When I heard about it later, I was stunned by the way a military position was offered to someone merely because he was committed to the resistance. In the ABSDF, one had to earn a position in the military or civilian administration through election or hard work in the frontline areas.

Perhaps, these supporters of the Homsa Command were merely trying to form a new army and were trying to attract young and committed talent. I was curious and a few days later, I dropped by the office myself to find out what was going on.

The office was tucked away in a quiet Soi near The Mall. The two men were there, and a few other people. I chatted a little while, and quickly saw that there was no sign of any activity that you would normally see in a war room or rebel army headquarters. The Homsa Command seemed to be a pipe-dream, and the two men repeatedly addressed each other as "Marshall" and "General."

The "Homsa Command" did have a legitimate connection with the Mon rebels, but the army was born only in Bangkok, and it died without ever being baptized by fire. The American (the Marshall) was later barred from entering Thailand for unknown reasons. I don’t know if he’s still alive. The ex-Kuomintang officer (the General) died a few years ago.

Around that time, an exiled labor organization also had plans to start its own rebel army, called the "Democratic Labor Army," in southern Burma. I heard that its soldiers actually underwent basic military training. But I don’t know if it ever saw battle. It too died within a few months.

I spent about 11 years with the ABSDF, and I saw many people—both Burmese and foreigners, almost always with good hearts and intentions—romance the revolution. Most of those who joined the revolution were idealists—inspired and adventurous. They saw injustice and longed for a purity of purpose in fighting for Burma’s liberation. By the time most of them joined the resistance, especially the Burmese, they had already decided that there was no alternative but to take up arms. Yet for all the purists, there were people with questionable characters among us as well.

For some, revolution was romantic, sexy and attractive, but the sacrifices were harsh and unforgiving. Many made the ultimate sacrifice—most died tragically, due to friendly fire or at the hands of those whom they had sworn to protect, work for and fight alongside. My pain at these deaths was beyond words.

Only a small number of ABSDF members actually saw combat, and among those who did, several people I knew were killed by friendly fire.

Three students from my hometown disappeared in Karen State, probably killed by Karen soldiers. Many people died in the jungle in different ways and under various circumstances.

Sure enough, these kinds of killings were not ordered by the mainstream KNU leadership, but they were carried out by individual Karen, mostly on suspicions. Many of these deaths had their roots in extreme ethno-nationalism.

Some Karen considered all Burmese the enemy. They could not differentiate between an ordinary Burmese, an ABSDF member fighting alongside them and the Burmese military, which is made of up of mostly Burman. An ABSDF official once noticed a tattoo on a young Karen soldier that read, “I am of Karen blood. I will kill the Burmese when I meet them.”

Any ABSDF soldier who ventured into Karen territory when fighting was taking place without actually understand the real dangers, could easily lose his life. Despite their good rapport and relationship with Karen leaders and commanders, the ABSDF leaders, in dangerous areas, had to act like a mother hen protecting their troops from birds of prey on all sides.

One student, Kyaw Naing, was from my hometown. He was killed by a Karen villager. His uncle was a monk in a monastery where we the pro-democracy protesters had set up a protest center during the uprising. I did not know him or the monk before, but the monk repeatedly asked me to take care of his nephew before were left for the jungle.

Kyaw Naing went to stay with Commander Than Naing at Regiment 206, because he wanted to fight. But in 1994, he left his unit to live with a Karen family in a village nearby. He was a good farmer, and he had fallen in love with the family’s daughter. But a Karen neighbor harbored resentment against him, perhaps out of jealousy. Kyaw Naing died by the sword of a Karen villager after a quarrel. But of course, like so many other cases of murder involving Burmese students in the Karen rebel territory, no action was taken against the Karen villager.

Someday, I will return to my country. I worry about how I will explain such tragedies to the families. I’ve imagined talking with them face to face. I realized that all I can offer is the confirmation of their loved one’s death and a remorseful sympathy, though their passing had nothing to do with me.

I hope the information will at least offer a grieving family a sense of closure, after two decades of guessing games and rumors that perhaps gave them hope their loved one had survived despite not having any contact for years. Perhaps, I can offer a shoulder for them to cry on.

There were some cases in which the motivation to join the ABSDF was not only to fight the Burmese military, but also to fight former Communists.

After the ABSDF broke into factions in 1991, ABSDF Regiment 203 in the Tavoy/Mergui area in Southern Burma joined our faction. But as soon as our commanders’ backs were turned, these students clashed with the remnants of Communists in Tenassarin Division, where many different armed groups, such as the Communists, the KNU, Mon rebels and other smaller but unknown groups, operated.

At first, we thought the clashes between us and the Communists were for the control of the area, but soon we realized that the clashes were not isolated.

I remember Moe Thee Zun, our faction leader, often going to see Communist leaders on damage control missions. Later, we learned that Communists had badly mistreated people in that part of the country. They collected funds through a “Tax for the Revolution,” forcibly recruited soldiers, and imposed strict rules—all common in conflict areas—and punished those who disobeyed them.

The villagers and their children had not forgotten. For many of those children, now young adults carrying guns under the banner of the ABSDF, it was payback time.

In Tenasserim, around the time we arrived in the jungle, seven Karen soldiers were killed by Karen villagers. I was unaware of what was happening at the time, but later a Karen girl who helped around our house told me the real story.

She said that for her village, the Karen soldiers were worse than Burmese soldiers. They bullied the poor villagers, demanding money and mistreating them every time they showed up in the village.

Eventually, the villagers couldn’t stand the maltreatment from the Karen soldiers and decided to kill them by using poison. They prepared a delicious meal laced with poison and gave it to the seven soldiers.

The soldiers did not die immediately, and the villagers finished them off with machetes. The girl was about 14 at the time, and she now lives in the US.

The KNU has suffered greatly and paid a devastating price, along with other ethnic minority groups who took part in the raging conflicts that began following Burma’s independence from Britain in 1948.

These groups, especially the Karen, welcomed us students with open arms when we flocked to the jungle en mass to take up arms in 1988. They gave us food, protection and training. Most importantly, they gave us a better vision of what a future Burma should look like.

But sometimes in a revolution it becomes difficult to distinguish who is right and who is wrong. Those on both sides of the conflict often acted in the same brutal way. The Burmese military is considered an aggressor and violator of human rights. The Karen and other ethnic groups are considered victims, but there were many instances in which they became what they were fighting against by committing the same type of abuses in the name of the revolution.

The ABSDF also had its own share of extrajudicial killings in several ABSDF camps, most notoriously the witch hunts that went terribly wrong in ABSDF Northern Burma in Kachin State.

Indeed, when the line between freedom fighters and oppressors becomes blurred, innocent lives are bound to be lost.

I left the ABSDF in April 1999, and official approval came in 2000. My departure was unexpected, prompted by something I had not anticipated.

After the ABSDF reunification in 1996, both factions decided to forget the past and cooperate in the future. One important agreement was also to adhere to the due process of law. But in April 1999 when I went to an ABSDF Central Committee meeting on the Thai-Burma border, I was greeted by the news that a top ABSDF leader had ordered a member killed—perhaps only on suspicion.

The victim was part of a group of undercover agents who were identified by the Burmese military. Having been exposed in his mission inside Burma, he returned to the border and took up residence in his camp. Perhaps concerned about his safety—because he was the only one who had escaped the military dragnet—he decided to live in Mae Sot.

Out of security fears, an ABSDF leader ordered his death. The order was carried out without the knowledge of the leadership.

I was devastated, like many others in the organization, and immediately decided that it was time to resign.

I left the life of the jungle very quickly—just as fast and unexpectedly as the way I entered it in 1988, after fleeing the military crack down, without any real understanding of the commitment I was making for my future.

I learned my politics while at the ABSDF. I have continued to use the leadership skills I learned, including diplomacy and working with the media. Despite my long tenure as a top official of the ABSDF, I was greatly relieved that I was never caught up in any extrajudicial killings.

Perhaps, my biggest mistake was in 1991 when I joined the ABSDF leadership to uphold Win Naing Nyein’s death sentence, but I felt genuinely relieved and satisfied that I was later able to reconcile by role by voting for his acquittal in the subsequent congress.

ABSDF’s numbers and fortunes have dwindled over the years. So has the KNU. But both organizations remain committed to freedom, democracy and justice in Burma. I wish them well.

For 11 years, I romanticized the revolution, along with many others, but I left the leadership with the belief that revolution is not romantic or sexy—it is for real, and I was lucky. I came out alive, in one piece physically and mentally, and with some life-time lessons that serve me well today.

Despite the hardships I endured and the mistakes I made in the jungle, I will always look back on my days with the ABSDF and the life in the jungle, especially the time at Camp Thay Baw Boe, with fond memories, where camaraderie and idealism and aspirations for freedom and democracy made anything seem possible and helped me to survive to fight another day.