Burma's Neroes fiddle while the people die

Visiting Research Fellow, Oxford University and Free Burma Coalition Maung Zarni on how, in the wake

You have got to love these guys who run Burma – renamed Myanmar.

Nero must have been one of their main sources of kingly inspirations. The flames of the ancient Rome didn’t bother the fabled Nero who kept on fiddling
his violin.

Get this.

The country is going through the aftermath of the greatest national catastrophe in its living memory – with an estimated 100,000 dead and 1.5 million
shelterless and literally on the verge of famine. Yet the generals’ most immediate concern is to hold the Referendum through which the military rule –
already in its 46th year – is once again to be reconfigured, legalized and legitimated.

As if this pathological reasoning is not twisted enough, they apparently ordered their busiest Embassy abroad in Bangkok to take a 3-day weekend holiday, on the convenient occasion of the Thai’s royal ploughing ceremony.

While the neighboring Thai rulers contribute, as a matter of ritual, to the production of the people’s staple , “Myanmarese” rulers act as if they have
little or no concerns beyond photo ops on the State-run TV, of generals handing out a few hundred meals in Styrofoam packages - about the most elemental
needs of the disaster-stricken people.

Over one million victims who desperately need food and clean water in dire conditions are still waiting desperately for relief efforts. For the generals
are insisting – characteristically – that the international community bring and drop off food, money, relief equipment and medical supplies and then leave, a
condition no aid donor is prepared to accept given the regime’s half-century old record of diverting all revenues and resources at its disposal for consolidating
its stranglehold on the population.

Scores of disaster relief workers from various UN agencies, as well as other international NGOs have no choice but to sit on their visa applications for 4
more days, desperate to get in and help distribute high power biscuits and other survival items. Even if there were enough rice to go around among Burmese
victims and survivors – which is not the case – there is no clean water to cook rice, hence biscuits for the rice-eating Burmese.

Here is a perfect living example of a population that needs “humanitarian intervention” – in whatever form it may take. The unceasing Burmese tales of
unimaginable tragedy and misery at the hands of the latter-day Neroes have moved Dr Bernard Kouchner, co-founder of the Doctors Without Borders and now France’s Foreign Minister, to publicly make the case for invoking ‘Responsibility to Protect or R2P.”

R2P is the new international doctrine introduced at the UN in 2001, which uses as its starting point ‘non-intervention amongst sovereign states’. It does not
require as prerequisite for intervention that a domestic situation threatens stability, peace and order internationally or regionally, nor is it confined to
armed conflicts, genocides and mass murders. (See http://www.iciss.ca/report-en.asp )

When a particular state, or those who have usurped power, as in the case of Burma/Myanmar - fail to demonstrably protect, prevent or otherwise address the
massive sufferings of a large population it becomes incumbent upon other states (and national communities) to impose appropriate humanistic measures, militarily if necessary and as a last resort, on a sovereign country.

Over the past week since the cyclone Nargis ripped up hundreds of communities and destroyed hundreds of thousands of human lives, the unmistakably callousness of the Myanmarese senior leadership is for all to see. Like Emperor Nero of ancient Rome, they have, in effect, chosen to be oblivious to the people in distress and the country in flames. Indeed by all objective criteria, the generals have categorically failed to uphold their obligations to the Burmese
people, as well as their membership responsibility to the United Nations to protect the citizens.

It is one thing that authoritarian regimes the world over typically mow down dissidents and rebels on the streets. But it is altogether a different order
of revulsion that the Myanmarese regime’s failure to put the lives and well-being of 1.5 million shelter-less cyclone victims first - the newly born,
the sick and the elderly - rendering them foodless, waterless and without safety and raising the risk of a major outbreak of disease through willful negligence.

Even the ‘evil’ Russia under Putin has the sensibility to waive visas for the British football fans bound for St Petersburg accepting football tickets in lieu
of visa stamps. Yet all international appeals from both hostile and friendly nations have fallen on the deaf ears of the evil rulers of Burma/Myanmar, who
refuse to honour the aid workers’ UN-issued passports.

Indeed, the “Myanmarese” Neroes are fiddling away their Constitutional tune preparing for Saturday’s Referendum , while the country’s 1.5 million victims
wither away with no drinking water or food aid.

The question before the outside world is:

Will those key players in the international community discharge their “responsibility to react” in the face of such evil?

This February, UK Foreign Secretary David Miliband used the occasion of the ‘Aung San Suu Kyi Lecture’ at St Hugh’s College, Oxford to articulate Britain’s
new foreign policy, calling it the ‘Democracy Imperative’. What better opportunity than the unfolding Burmese atrocities for him to put his money where
his mouth is. The “Humanitarian Imperative” based on Responsibility to Protect’ must come first.

Biteback and James Wharton
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“It was the most traumatic chapter of my life”: ex-soldier James Wharton on his chemsex addiction

One of the British Army’s first openly gay soldiers reveals how he became trapped in a weekend world of drug and sex parties.

“Five days disappeared.” James Wharton, a 30-year-old former soldier, recalls returning to his flat in south London at 11pm on a Sunday night in early March. He hadn’t eaten or slept since Wednesday. In the five intervening days, he had visited numerous different apartments, checked in and out of a hotel room, partied with dozens of people, had sex, and smoked crystal meth “religiously”.

One man he met during this five-day blur had been doing the same for double the time. “He won’t have been exaggerating,” Wharton tells me now. “He looked like he’d been up for ten days.”

On Monday, Wharton went straight to his GP. He had suffered a “massive relapse” while recovering from his addiction to chemsex: group sex parties enhanced by drugs.

“Crystal meth lets you really dig in, to use an Army term”

I meet Wharton on a very different Monday morning six months after that lost long weekend. Sipping a flat white in a sleek café workspace in Holborn, he’s a stroll away from his office in the city, where he works as a PR. He left the Army in 2013 after ten years, having left school and home at 16.


Wharton left school at 16 to join the Army. Photo: Biteback

With his stubble, white t-shirt and tortoise shell glasses, he now looks like any other young media professional. But he’s surfacing from two years in the chemsex world, where he disappeared to every weekend – sometimes for 72 hours straight.

Back then, this time on a Monday would have been “like a double-decker bus smashing through” his life – and that’s if he made it into work at all. Sometimes he’d still be partying into the early hours of a Tuesday morning. The drugs allow your body to go without sleep. “Crystal meth lets you really dig in, to use an Army expression,” Wharton says, wryly.


Wharton now works as a PR in London. Photo: James Wharton

Mainly experienced by gay and bisexual men, chemsex commonly involves snorting the stimulant mephodrone, taking “shots” (the euphoric drug GBL mixed with a soft drink), and smoking the amphetamine crystal meth.

These drugs make you “HnH” (high and horny) – a shorthand on dating apps that facilitate the scene. Ironically, they also inhibit erections, so Viagra is added to the mix. No one, sighs Wharton, orgasms. He describes it as a soulless and mechanical process. “Can you imagine having sex with somebody and then catching them texting at the same time?”

“This is the real consequence of Section 28”

Approximately 3,000 men who go to Soho’s 56 Dean Street sexual health clinic each month are using “chems”, though it’s hard to quantify how many people regularly have chemsex in the UK. Chemsex environments can be fun and controlled; they can also be unsafe and highly addictive.

Participants congregate in each other’s flats, chat, chill out, have sex and top up their drugs. GBL can only be taken in tiny doses without being fatal, so revellers set timers on their phones to space out the shots.

GBL is known as “the date rape drug”; it looks like water, and a small amount can wipe your memory. Like some of his peers, Wharton was raped while passed out from the drug. He had been asleep for six or so hours, and woke up to someone having sex with him. “That was the worst point, without a doubt – rock bottom,” he tells me. “[But] it didn’t stop me from returning to those activities again.”

There is a chemsex-related death every 12 days in London from usually accidental GBL overdoses; a problem that Wharton compares to the AIDS epidemic in a book he’s written about his experiences, Something for the Weekend.


Wharton has written a book about his experiences. Photo: Biteback

Wharton’s first encounter with the drug, at a gathering he was taken to by a date a couple of years ago, had him hooked.

“I loved it and I wanted more immediately,” he recalls. From then on, he would take it every weekend, and found doctors, teachers, lawyers, parliamentary researchers, journalists and city workers all doing the same thing. He describes regular participants as the “London gay elite”.

“Chemsex was the most traumatic chapter of my life” 

Topics of conversation “bounce from things like Lady Gaga’s current single to Donald Trump”, Wharton boggles. “You’d see people talking about the general election, to why is Britney Spears the worst diva of them all?”

Eventually, he found himself addicted to the whole chemsex culture. “It’s not one single person, it’s not one single drug, it’s just all of it,” he says.



Wharton was in the Household Cavalry alongside Prince Harry. Photos: Biteback and James Wharton

Wharton feels the stigma attached to chemsex is stopping people practising it safely, or being able to stop. He’s found a support network through gay community-led advice services, drop-ins and workshops. Not everyone has that access, or feels confident coming forward.

“This is the real consequence of Section 28,” says Wharton, who left school in 2003, the year this legislation against “promoting” homosexuality was repealed. “Who teaches gay men how to have sex? Because the birds and the bees chat your mum gives you is wholly irrelevant.”


Wharton was the first openly gay soldier to appear in the military in-house magazine. Photo courtesy of Biteback

Wharton only learned that condoms are needed in gay sex when he first went to a gay bar at 18. He was brought up in Wrexham, north Wales, by working-class parents, and described himself as a “somewhat geeky gay” prior to his chemsex days.

After four years together, he and his long-term partner had a civil partnership in 2010; they lived in a little cottage in Windsor with two dogs. Their break-up in 2014 launched him into London life as a single man.

As an openly gay soldier, Wharton was also an Army poster boy; he appeared in his uniform on the cover of gay magazine Attitude. He served in the Household Cavalry with Prince Harry, who once defended him from homophobic abuse, and spent seven months in Iraq.


In 2012, Wharton appeared with his then civil partner in Attitude magazine. Photo courtesy of Biteback

A large Union Jack shield tattoo covering his left bicep pokes out from his t-shirt – a physical reminder of his time at war on his now much leaner frame. He had it done the day he returned from Iraq.

Yet even including war, Wharton calls chemsex “the most traumatic chapter” of his life. “Iraq was absolutely Ronseal, it did exactly what it said on the tin,” he says. “It was going to be a bit shit, and then I was coming home. But with chemsex, you don’t know what’s going to happen next.

“When I did my divorce, I had support around me. When I did the Army, I had a lot of support. Chemsex was like a million miles an hour for 47 hours, then on the 48th hour it was me on my own, in the back of an Uber, thinking where did it all go wrong? And that’s traumatic.”

Something for the Weekend: Life in the Chemsex Underworld by James Wharton is published by Biteback.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.