Burma Democracy's Latest Convert

By Jill Smolowe

Lest any of Burma's 21 million eligible voters mistake the military junta's decision to hold parliamentary elections as an invitation for a democratic free-for-all, the government had gone out of its way to hand every advantage to the army-backed National Unity Party. The country's leading dissident, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, 44, was barred from running for office and kept under house arrest. Other opposition politicians were similarly disqualified and detained, . and politicking was confined mostly to private homes. The day before last week's election, officials unexpectedly lifted martial law, which had been in effect since September 1988, in parts of the country, but the campaign of intimidation continued. Security officers reportedly conducted random searches of houses, and in the eastern state of Shan reports spread of men being dragooned into the army to carry munitions into rebel-occupied areas.

The military leaders in Rangoon seemed to have considered every angle save one: if the country's first multiparty balloting in 30 years was actually clean, the ruling powers would be dealt a humiliating defeat. Early returns last week indicated that Aung San Suu Kyi's party, the National League for Democracy, took 392 of the new National Assembly's 485 contested seats. Although final results will not be available for perhaps two weeks, the army- backed party has so far claimed only nine seats. How the remaining parliamentary seats would be apportioned among the other 91 parties was not clear, but it seemed incidental. The future of Burma, renamed Myanmar last June, belongs to the league, if the military leaders who have ruled since 1962 are truly ready to abide by the results and step aside.

The government responded to the electoral rout with pledges to transfer power to a civilian government. But the timing remained vague, and the future role of the military was anything but clear. Although junta leader General Saw Maung announced that he would cede control "to the largest party," there were enough caveats to leave the opposition sleepless. First a constitution must be drafted, a process that diplomats warn could take as long as three years. And, Saw Maung cautioned, whoever threatens the protection of "national unity will not be tolerated."

For the victorious league, one of the first orders of business will be to secure the release of Aung San Suu Kyi. She alone has the moral stature to press for the end to authoritarian rule and to halt the political factionalism that brought the military to power 28 years ago. Like the Philippines' Corazon Aquino, Pakistan's Benazir Bhutto and Nicaragua's Violeta Chamorro, Aung San Suu Kyi's moral authority stems from family history and political tragedy: her father, Aung San, was a national hero who was assassinated in 1947, on the eve of Burma's independence from Britain. But unlike some of the others, who stepped into political vacuums only after great coaxing, Aung San Suu Kyi wants to be Prime Minister. The league's campaign paraphernalia included posters, T shirts and buttons that bore her picture and the words MY HEAD IS BLOODY BUT UNBOWED.

But first, Aung San Suu Kyi will need to get her own political party in order. "There's no ruling out the possibility that the National League for Democracy and the opposition in general could succumb to the old Burmese disease of factionalism," warns a Western diplomat based in Rangoon. Excessive wrangling within the league would provide the military junta with a convenient excuse to delay a transfer of power.

With or without Aung San Suu Kyi's release, her party must move quickly to cement its mandate. Party leaders aim to call the new National Assembly into session within 60 days after the election. To forestall extensive negotiations over the drafting of a new constitution, the league may resurrect the 1947 constitution, which was suspended in 1962. And it plans to invite the junta to enter into talks on the transfer of power. "We have to calm the present political anger and forget about political reprisals," says Khin Nghwe, 48, who belongs to the league's executive committee and won an assembly seat. As for the military, Nghwe says, "the army should return to the barracks and carry out the duties of ordinary soldiers."

The junta's information committee announced last week that the military would play no part in drafting or approving a new constitution. Some Burmese take heart in the fact that the National League for Democracy claimed victories even in districts populated almost exclusively by military families, including the home district of reclusive Ne Win, who resigned his post as party chairman in 1988, but remains the most powerful man in the country. Other observers are worried that the slightest hint of civil disturbance may provoke the military to repeat the butchery of 1988, which resulted in the massacre of more than 3,000 demonstrators. The league can hope only that the apparent longing for democracy displayed by soldiers at the ballot box will translate into a public show of support for the civilian leaders who stand poised to return Burma to the civilized world.

With reporting by William Stewart/Hong Kong, with other bureaus