Esther J collects firsthand accounts from people directly impacted by the new military conscription law.
Edited by Emily Fishbein.
In February of this year, the Myanmar military announced plans to activate a People’s Military Service Law beginning in April and conscript 6,000 people within the first year. Approximately 13 million people are eligible under the law, which targets men ages 18 to 45 and women ages 18 to 35, and mandates military service for two to five years.
The military’s announcement came three years after it seized power from the democratically-elected government, sparking widespread peaceful protests and then an armed uprising, to which the military has faced accumulating losses.
The military initially exempted women from conscription, but the law’s announcement quickly sparked panic across the country, driving thousands of men and women to flee to Thailand and Malaysia or seek refuge in the territory of resistance forces.
With the military offering a salary to new conscripts as well as a financial incentive for joining, some have willingly enlisted according to interviews conducted by Esther J. Her interviews, however, as well as analysis conducted by Burma Affairs and Conflict Study, a local research and advocacy group, found that the military has commonly forcibly conscripted people. The BACS study described the military’s use of methods including snatching people from their homes, roadside checkpoints, tea shops and bars, and threatening the parents of people who fled.
Although officially, the conscription process is being implemented through a lottery system managed by local authorities, in practice, the selection process is often influenced by bribes according to media reports as well as interviews conducted by Esther J. She also found that in some cases, civilians who were not medically fit were conscripted as a means of extorting money from their family members to secure their release.
In early September, Esther J spoke with five people from central Myanmar who faced direct experiences with the law. Sal Zin and Ko Soe, both in their late 20s, were conscripted against their will from a village in Bago region, and escaped together from a military base. Khay U, an investigation officer with a People’s Defence Force (PDF) in Bago region, described an influx of youth fleeing the conscription law into the territory controlled by his group. Tin Zar, in Yangon, shared the story of her neighbor’s son, who was forcibly conscripted into the military and died in combat. Khaing Khaing, a military supporter in the capital city of Naypyidaw, described the agony of her son being conscripted against his will.
Their interviews have been translated from Burmese and lightly edited for clarity. The stories of two other conscripts, also interviewed by Esther J, were featured in The Observer on September 28. All sources were given pseudonyms to mitigate the risk of military retaliation.
Sai Zin, originally from Ayeyarwady region, has three children, of whom the youngest is two months old. He was living in Yangon when the military announced its conscription law in February. This interview was conducted on the day he reached a PDF-controlled area after escaping military conscription.
A few months after the conscription law was activated, I fled Yangon for Bago region. I still had to earn a living, so I worked as a street vendor selling vegetables, fish and meat, until heavy flooding hit the area, and my brother-in-law and I went to work at a gold mine instead. Just three days later, we were captured at a military checkpoint on the way back from work.
We were riding our motorbikes at the time, and dismounted according to the order posted on a signboard. Soldiers and police asked for our national identity cards, and told us to sit and wait for a moment. Then, they checked our mobile phones. They found nothing related to political issues, but they didn’t release us. Instead, they took us to their base. At first, we didn’t know that we had been conscripted. We only realized it a few hours later, when they tested our blood.
They kept us in a room while patrolling outside. Three nights later, we were transferred to another base in a green minibus. There were fifteen of us, ages 18 to 32. The soldiers allowed us to use our mobile phones, so we called the local People’s Defense Force (PDF) and asked them to rescue us on the way. The PDF came and fired shots, but the mission failed.
At night, four people including my brother-in-law ran off. We had been planning to flee together, but I missed the chance to join them because they left suddenly and I wasn’t familiar with the area. After that, the soldiers seized our mobile phones at night, and only allowed us to use them from 8 am until our bedtime at 9 pm.
During our stay, we had to do some light cleaning jobs like pulling weeds and collecting garbage. There were around 250 of us from three townships who had been conscripted. Over meals or while having tea, we had the chance to get to know each other, and I came to know that nearly all of us had been conscripted by force.
It seemed like the officers wanted to keep us happy. They didn’t force us to do heavy work. Maybe they were saving it for our military training, which I heard from conscripts had been tough. The officers explained to us that we would receive 500,000 kyats for attending a three-month military training. After that, we would be paid a salary of 170,000 kyats per month and would have weekends off. They also told us that we wouldn’t be sent to battle, but back to our home areas, and that our wives could stay with us.
After we got there, a group of nine people arrived. Some of them said that military authorities arrested them at night, after knocking on their doors on the premise of checking for unregistered overnight guests. Others were taken through the military’s conscription lottery.
Some of those taken were in very bad health. Some were disabled, and some had chronic diseases. In those kinds of cases, the soldiers extorted money from the conscripts’ families, asking for 4 to 7 million kyats depending on the family’s financial situation. I saw this happen in two cases, including a man who couldn’t walk properly, and whose family had to pay 6 million kyats for his release.
My family depends on me financially, and during my time at the military base, I heard about the troubles that they were facing whenever I called home. That’s why I decided to risk my life to try to escape.
Ten days after I was captured, I ran off with one other conscript. For the preceding two days, we kept an eye on every detail, taking note of what time the soldiers woke up and went to sleep, what time they watched us, and how long we had to escape. We had to calculate everything in advance.
We left at 3am, leaving our phones behind because they were in the hands of the soldiers. We climbed out the window of our room, and ran through a paddy field, taking a longer route to avoid two secret checkpoints. Then we crossed through sharp grass and into a forest. We traveled continuously for the whole day and night, without eating.
The next day, we reached a village, where we bought some food and asked for help to make a phone call. We had memorized the number of the local PDF from our area, so we called them and asked for help. They gave us the name of a village where we could go, and we followed their instructions. That night, we stayed in the forest, but we couldn’t sleep soundly because we were scared of being caught by military informers.
We traveled for four days, during which I think we crossed at least ten villages. We crossed streams and valleys without stopping, regardless of heavy rain or intense heat. We were often hungry and thirsty. Finally, we reached an area under PDF control, and we felt safe.
I want this situation in Myanmar to end as soon as possible. I don’t want others to face what I faced. I advise others to stay away from the military as much as possible. If you are in their hands, you must obey their orders, even if it means you have to give your life.
Ko Soe, from Bago region, escaped from a military camp together with Sai Zin after being forcibly conscripted. This interview was conducted on the day he reached a PDF-controlled area.
I earn a living by cutting bamboo in the forest and selling it. I was arrested in August while I was on the way to a clinic in the nearest town to my village. I had a fever and was traveling by motorcycle taxi. But before I could reach the clinic, some soldiers and police who were waiting across from a monastery stopped the motorcycle and checked our IDs. They released the motorbike driver, who is older, and told me to sit for a while. Then, they took me to their base along with seven other men.
The next day, they took our blood and measured our height. That’s when I came to know that I had been conscripted. I didn’t dare to ask questions. Two days later, we were transferred to another base in a nearby township.
Before Sai Zin and I fled, we had already agreed that Sai Zin would go first and I would follow. He escaped out the window, and I followed him immediately. There was no fence, just a paddy field. I was very scared at the time, but I didn’t dare to look back; I just kept going forward.
My village is under the control of resistance forces, so when Sai Zin and I fled from the military base, we called them by borrowing someone’s phone in a shop. When I reached their territory, I was extremely happy.
I want to go back to my village, live with my family and continue my life like before, but the circumstances are very difficult now. I can never go downtown, which is controlled by the military. I am still thinking about what to do. It is horrible that the military activated the conscription law. It caused trouble for everyone and made us afraid to go outside.
Esther J spoke with Khay U, an investigation officer with an NUG-affiliated PDF in Bago region, about the impacts of the military conscription law in his area.
Nearly 100 youth fled from the military-controlled area and took shelter in our territory after the military announced its conscription law. We helped five youth to escape after they were conscripted, including Sai Zin and Ko Soe.
Recently, the military conscripted people from two townships where our group has some control. They dragged some people from their houses, and took some from roadside checkpoints or arbitrary stops on the road. Most of the people who were conscripted had to join against their will, and were very scared.
When the military first announced the conscription law, the situation was not this bad. They took two young people from each village, but if you gave them enough money, you didn’t have to join. Now, they are taking people en masse, causing people to panic. Young people are afraid to go out and about, and are suffering from fear and insecurity on a daily basis. They are even avoiding health care services and losing their livelihoods and social connections.
Tin Zar, from Yangon’s Insein township, spoke with Esther J a month after her neighbor’s son, who had been forcibly conscripted into the military, was killed
In June of this year, Thaw Zin, who is the son of my neighbor and childhood friend, was conscripted into the military. He was 26 at the time and had spent six months in prison last year on accusations of dealing drugs. He is one of at least four youth from my neighborhood who have been conscripted into the military.
Three months before Thaw Zin was conscripted, in March of this year, his sister married a prison worker, and the whole family moved into the staff dormitory inside the prison compound. After a few months, Thaw Zin left the dormitory because he wanted more freedom. He built a small hut on his uncle’s land near my house. In June, the 100-house-group elder from the area told him that his name had been drawn in the conscription lottery.
His family urged him to go because they saw it as a job opportunity and didn’t think that he would be sent to battle. I told him that he didn’t need to listen to his parents and advised him to flee while offering to connect him with resistance forces. But he decided to go, fearing that his family would be arrested if he evaded conscription. Local youth are also afraid of the 100-house-group elder, because he always bullies and beats them.
The day after he was informed his name had been drawn for conscription, Thaw Zin went to the ward administrator’s office to meet with the 100-house-group elder. Before he could even collect his belongings, ward authorities including the 100-house-group elder took him to an interrogation center, and then sent him to military training.
After attending training for one and a half months, he was sent to northern Shan State. He called his mother while he was on the way, and said he was stuck on the road because of a broken bridge and that they had set up camp there while charging their mobile phones. A week later, he called again saying that he was in Hsipaw.
He stayed in communication with his family until early August. He told them that two military soldiers had been killed by heavy artillery fire, and that he was very afraid. He asked his mother to perform a magic ritual known as yadaya, which seeks to prevent misfortune.
In mid-August, Thaw Zin’s sister got a call from a soldier in his column. He told her that Thaw Zin had been killed by heavy artillery one week earlier along with one other soldier, and that he had buried them together. When Thaw Zin’s sister called to tell me the news, she was sobbing into the phone. Yesterday, we invited some monks to the hut where he lived and donated food to them to commemorate one month since his death.
Khaing Khaing, from Naypyidaw, spoke with Esther J less than a month after her 24-year-old son was conscripted.
I am a strong supporter of the Tatmadaw. I love and admire it, and I am against the rebels, because I believe that Tatmadaw is protecting our country.
Before my son was conscripted, he worked at his friend’s barber shop. Because of some errors my second husband made on our paperwork when I remarried, my son is not even on the census registration list in our household and he still doesn’t have a national ID card, although he has been trying to get one ]. Because there is no government record of his existence, there is no way he could have been listed for conscription through official processes.
On a Saturday in August, the ward administrator called me at 7:30am in the morning to summon my son to his office. My son was not yet dressed and went in his undershirt. When he got to the ward administrator’s office, he was told to dress properly. He came home and changed his clothes, and then the ward administrator took him to the immigration office to get an ID card.
At around 10am, my son called me to tell me that he had been conscripted and asked me to come to the immigration office. I went immediately, but by the time I arrived, it was too late. Military officials were already explaining to a group of ten young people who had been conscripted, including my son, about the salary. After that, the police took some photos of them.
My son cried and hugged me as soon as he saw me. He also blamed me, saying that the organization I support conscripted him. I replied, “Please don’t insult me like that. If possible, I would serve in your place. I would never do anything to cause you trouble.” We didn’t dare to show our disagreement further in front of the military officials.
The group of ten young people who had been conscripted, including my son, were taken in a small truck to the recruitment center, while we mothers and wives said goodbye with tears in our eyes.
I was able to meet my son twice during his two-week stay at the recruitment center. I cried both times, because his face looked very pale and he had become so thin. There were around 300 conscripts there, and although my family is poor, others were even poorer. All the conscripts had that in common. I can’t stand that the military conscripted the poor.
I don’t want to oppose the conscription law, but in my son’s case, it’s not fair, because he wasn’t taken according to the law. The military officials don’t notice that government staff at the bottom levels are manipulating the situation. Although I am a military supporter, I hate that my son was conscripted. I could accept it if he went willingly, but the conscription law is unfair. I can’t stand it when the military claims that people joined of their own will.
In early September, my son sent a message to his girlfriend, informing her that he would soon be sent to a three-month military training. We haven’t had contact with him since then, but five days after his girlfriend received his message, she saw his face on an MRTV [Myanmar military-run channel] news post on TikTok among a group of military trainees.
I want to ask the military officials who will take responsibility for the lives of those they conscripted. I am very worried about my son being sent to the front line. He is not brave enough. He even gets frightened during thunderstorms. He never fights with others, and he’s afraid of police and soldiers, so he always obeys the law. I’m still in pain for him, and I cry whenever I eat his favorite foods.
Esther J is a freelance journalist from Myanmar with more than years experience in the field. She spent more than a year covering human rights and conflict issues in Karenni State.
Emily Fishbein is an independent journalist and researcher who focuses on underreported issues related to Myanmar using a collaborative approach.
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