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Burma: a brief history

Later this year, Burma is expected to hold its first multi-party elections for twenty years. We look

World War II

Burma was a major battleground for the British and the Japanese. Three hundred thousand refugees fled to India, but by July 1945 Britain had re-taken the country from the Japanese. The Burma National Army, formed by revolutionary and nationalist Aung San in 1937, initially supported the Japanese, but in 1943, fearful that the Japanese promises of independence were not sincere, changed sides and joined the Allies.

Post-1945

After the war, Aung San was instrumental in restoring civilian politics from the military administration established by the British. He also negotiated independence for Burma with British Prime Minister Clement Attlee.

In 1947, the first elections were held in Burma since its split from the British Raj. Aung San's Anti-Fascist People's Freedom League (AFPFL) won 176 of the 210 seats, but Aung San and six of his cabinet ministers were assassinated by paramilitaries loyal to colonial era Prime Minister U Saw. Several British military officers were also implicated in the plot, and were tried and imprisoned. U Saw was executed.

The Union of Burma

Following Aung San's assassination, the leadership of the AFPFL passed to U Nu, who oversaw the country's final transition to an independent Burma in January 1948. U Nu became the first prime minister of the Union of Burma.

Under the constitution of 1947, a bicameral parliament was elected. General elections were held in 1952/3, 1956 and 1960, with the AFPFL continuing to dominate both houses.

In 1961, Burmese civil servant U Thant was unanimously appointed UN Secretary-General, the first non-westerner to hold the position. Among the Burmese staff he took with him to the post was Aung San Suu Kyi, daughter of Aung San. But in 1962, just two years after the republic's third general election as an independent state, the government of U Nu was overthrown in a coup d'etat lead by General Ne Win.

The 'Burmese Way to Socialism'

Ne Win ruled the country as a one-party state until 1988, under the auspices of an ideology he called the 'Burmese Way to Socialism'. This lead to economic and political isolationism, the expulsion of foreigners, and the nationalisation of industry.

Student protests at Rangoon University in 1962 resulted in 15 deaths, and similar student activism in 1975, 1976 and 1977 were also suppressed. In 1974, anti-government protests at the funeral of UN Secretary-General U Thant were quickly and violently suppressed by the military.

On the 8 August 1988, frustration at economic mismanagement and brutal oppression lead to the nation-wide protests known as the 8888 Uprising, in which students, monks, and citizens took to the streets to protest against the military junta.

Once again, the revolt was brutally put down, with many casualties. Precise numbers differ, with opposition groups claiming thousands of people were killed by the military, whilst the regime say only 350 lost their lives.

Rule by military junta

A group which was to become the still-ruling State Peace and Development Council (SPDC), lead by General Saw Maung, seized power and declared martial law. In May 1990, the first multi-party elections were held in 30 years.

The National League for Democracy, lead by Aung San Suu Kyi, won 392 of the 498 seats, but the SPDC refused to relinquish power. In 1992, Saw Maung unexpectedly resigned for health reasons, and current dictator Than Shwe succeeded him as head of state, secretary of defence and commander-in-chief of the armed forces.

Aung San Suu Kyi was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991, and has subsequently spent 14 of the past 20 years under house arrest.

In 2007, following the junta's decision to remove fuel subsidies, causing the price of fuel to double overnight, demonstrations took place. After an initial crackdown, marches continued under the leadership of thousands of Buddhist monks. Thousands were arrested, and 14 of the leaders were sentenced to 65 years in the infamous British-built Insein prison.

Buddhist monks have been a rallying point for opposition since the early 20th century, when riots broke out over the issue of the British colonists refusing the remove their shoes in the temples.

Beyond the 2007 uprising

Ethnic violence continues in the country, with the Karen people of southeastern Burma particularly prominent in their insurgency. There has also been protracted conflict between the junta and the Han Chinese, Va and Kachin people in the north.

The devastation caused by Cyclone Nargis in May 2008 in the Irrawaddy rice-farming region was severe, with around 200,000 people estimated to have died. However, the isolationist stance of the junta and the endemic corruption in major industries and local government prevented either domestic or foreign aid having much of an impact. United Nations planes bringing food aid and medical supplies were delayed by the junta.

In 2009, an American named John Yettaw swam across Lake Inya to reach Aung San Suu Kyi's residence for the second time (he first visited in May 2008), and was arrested and deported for breaching the terms of her house arrest. As a result, she was given a further 18 months' confinement, meaning that she can take no part in elections held in 2010.

Under the new constitution ratified by referendum amid the devastation of Cyclone Nargis in 2008, the new democratically-elected assembly will reserve a quarter of its seats for the military. Aung San Suu Kyi's party, the National League for Democracy, has said that it will boycott the elections because of laws that prevent their leader from participating.

Caroline Crampton is assistant editor of the New Statesman. She writes a weekly podcast column.

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The French millennials marching behind Marine Le Pen

A Front National rally attracts former socialists with manicured beards, and a lesbian couple. 

“In 85 days, Marine will be President of the French Republic!” The 150-strong crowd cheered at the sound of the words. On stage, the speaker, the vice-president of the far-right Front National (FN), Florian Philippot, continued: “We will be told that it’s the apocalypse, by the same banks, media, politicians, who were telling the British that Brexit would be an immediate catastrophe.

"Well, they voted, and it’s not! The British are much better off than we are!” The applause grew louder and louder. 

I was in the medieval city of Metz, in a municipal hall near the banks of the Moselle River, a tributary of the Rhine from which the region takes its name. The German border lies 49km east; Luxembourg City is less than an hour’s drive away. This is the "Country of the Three Borders", equidistant from Strasbourg and Frankfurt, and French, German and French again after various wars. Yet for all that local history is deeply rooted in the wider European history, votes for the Front National rank among the highest nationally, and continue to rise at every poll. 

In rural Moselle, “Marine”, as the Front National leader Marine Le Pen is known, has an envoy. In 2014, the well-spoken, elite-educated Philippot, 35, ran for mayor in Forbach, a former miner’s town near the border. He lost to the Socialist candidate but has visited regularly since. Enough for the locals to call him “Florian".

I grew up in a small town, Saint-Avold, halfway between Metz and Forbach. When my grandfather was working in the then-prosperous coal mines, the Moselle region attracted many foreign workers. Many of my fellow schoolmates bore Italian and Polish surnames. But the last mine closed in 2004, and now, some of the immigrants’ grandchildren are voting for the National Front.

Returning, I can't help but wonder: How did my generation, born with the Maastricht treaty, end up turning to the Eurosceptic, hard right FN?

“We’ve seen what the other political parties do – it’s always the same. We must try something else," said Candice Bertrand, 23, She might not be part of the group asking Philippot for selfies, but she had voted FN at every election, and her family agreed. “My mum was a Communist, then voted for [Nicolas] Sarkozy, and now she votes FN. She’s come a long way.”  The way, it seemed, was political distrust.

Minutes earlier, Philippot had pleaded with the audience to talk to their relatives and neighbours. Bertrand had brought her girlfriend, Lola, whom she was trying to convince to vote FN.  Lola wouldn’t give her surname – her strongly left-wing family would “certainly not” like to know she was there. She herself had never voted.

This infuriated Bertrand. “Women have fought for the right to vote!” she declared. Daily chats with Bertrand and her family had warmed up Lola to voting Le Pen in the first round, although not yet in the second. “I’m scared of a major change,” she confided, looking lost. “It’s a bit too extreme.” Both were too young to remember 2002, when a presidential victory for the then-Front National leader Jean-Marie Le Pen, was only a few percentage points away.

Since then, under the leadership of his daughter, Marine, the FN has broken every record. But in this region, the FN’s success isn’t new. In 2002, when liberal France was shocked to see Le Pen reach the second round of the presidential election, the FN was already sailing in Moselle. Le Pen grabbed 23.7 per cent of the Moselle vote in the first round and 21.9 per cent in the second, compared to 16.9 per cent and 17.8 per cent nationally. 

The far-right vote in Moselle remained higher than the national average before skyrocketing in 2012. By then, the younger, softer-looking Marine had taken over the party. In that year, the FN won an astonishing 24.7 per cent of the Moselle vote, and 17.8 per cent nationwide.

For some people of my generation, the FN has already provided opportunities. With his manicured beard and chic suit, Emilien Noé still looks like the Young Socialist he was between 16 and 18 years old. But looks can be deceiving. “I have been disgusted by the internal politics at the Socialist Party, the lack of respect for the low-ranked campaigners," he told me. So instead, he stood as the FN’s youngest national candidate to become mayor in his village, Gosselming, in 2014. “I entered directly into action," he said. (He lost). Now, at just 21, Noé is the FN’s youth coordinator for Eastern France.

Metz, Creative Commons licence credit Morgaine

Next to him stood Kevin Pfeiffer, 27. He told me he used to believe in the Socialist ideal, too - in 2007, as a 17-year-old, he backed Ségolène Royal against Sarkozy. But he is now a FN local councillor and acts as the party's general co-ordinator in the region. Both Noé and Pfeiffer radiated a quiet self-confidence, the sort that such swift rises induces. They shared a deep respect for the young-achiever-in-chief: Philippot. “We’re young and we know we can have perspectives in this party without being a graduate of l’ENA,” said another activist, Olivier Musci, 24. (The elite school Ecole Nationale d’Administration, or ENA, is considered something of a mandatory finishing school for politicians. It counts Francois Hollande and Jacques Chirac among its alumni. Ironically, Philippot is one, too.)

“Florian” likes to say that the FN scores the highest among the young. “Today’s youth have not grown up in a left-right divide”, he told me when I asked why. “The big topics, for them, were Maastricht, 9/11, the Chinese competition, and now Brexit. They have grown up in a political world structured around two poles: globalism versus patriotism.” Notably, half his speech was dedicated to ridiculing the FN's most probably rival, the maverick centrist Emmanuel Macron. “It is a time of the nations. Macron is the opposite of that," Philippot declared. 

At the rally, the blue, red and white flame, the FN’s historic logo, was nowhere to be seen. Even the words “Front National” had deserted the posters, which were instead plastered with “in the name of the people” slogans beneath Marine’s name and large smile. But everyone wears a blue rose at the buttonhole. “It’s the synthesis between the left’s rose and the right’s blue colour”, Pfeiffer said. “The symbol of the impossible becoming possible.” So, neither left nor right? I ask, echoing Macron’s campaign appeal. “Or both left and right”, Pfeiffer answered with a grin.

This nationwide rebranding follows years of efforts to polish the party’s jackass image, forged by decades of xenophobic, racist and anti-Semitic declarations by Le Pen Sr. His daughter evicted him from the party in 2015.

Still, Le Pen’s main pledges revolve around the same issue her father obsessed over - immigration. The resources spent on "dealing with migrants" will, Le Pen promises, be redirected to address the concerns of "the French people". Unemployment, which has been hovering at 10 per cent for years, is very much one of them. Moselle's damaged job market is a booster for the FN - between 10 and 12 per cent of young people are unemployed.

Yet the two phenomena cannot always rationally be linked. The female FN supporters I met candidly admitted they drove from France to Luxembourg every day for work and, like many locals, often went shopping in Germany. Yet they hoped to see the candidate of “Frexit” enter the Elysee palace in May. “We've never had problems to work in Luxembourg. Why would that change?” asked Bertrand. (Le Pen's “144 campaign pledges” promise frontier workers “special measures” to cross the border once out of the Schengen area, which sounds very much like the concept of the Schengen area itself.)

Grégoire Laloux, 21, studied history at the University of Metz. He didn't believe in the European Union. “Countries have their own interests. There are people, but no European people,” he said. “Marine is different because she defends patriotism, sovereignty, French greatness and French history.” He compared Le Pen to Richelieu, the cardinal who made Louis XIV's absolute monarchy possible:  “She, too, wants to build a modern state.”

French populists are quick to link the country's current problems to immigration, and these FN supporters were no exception. “With 7m poor and unemployed, we can't accept all the world's misery,” Olivier Musci, 24, a grandchild of Polish and Italian immigrants, told me. “Those we welcome must serve the country and be proud to be here.”

Lola echoed this call for more assimilation. “At our shopping centre, everyone speaks Arabic now," she said. "People have spat on us, thrown pebbles at us because we're lesbians. But I'm in my country and I have the right to do what I want.” When I asked if the people who attacked them were migrants, she was not so sure. “Let's say, they weren't white.”

Trump promised to “Make America Great Again”. To where would Le Pen's France return? Would it be sovereign again? White again? French again? Ruled by absolutism again? She has blurred enough lines to seduce voters her father never could – the young, the gay, the left-wingers. At the end of his speech, under the rebranded banners, Philippot invited the audience to sing La Marseillaise with him. And in one voice they did: “To arms citizens! Form your battalions! March, march, let impure blood, water our furrows...” The song is the same as the one I knew growing up. But it seemed to me, this time, a more sinister tune.