A parliament, but not as you know it

A far cry from real representation

Myanmar's sham legislature

IN THE sprawling new capital of Naypyidaw, Myanmar’s enormous showcase parliament building awaits its first legislators. After a general election in November, the military government hopes that the opening of the bicameral parliament on January 31st, amid suitable pomp, will appear to usher in a new democratic era. Its first job will be to form an electoral college to choose a fresh president and two vice-presidents.
Also awaiting the legislators will be the new laws and rules governing their conduct, published with rather less fanfare on January 11th and running to 17 bound volumes. These give a better guide to what might be expected of the new parliament than any pronouncements by the regime. According to those who have seen the rules, MPs may not, for example, simply ask a question. They first have to submit the question to the director-general of the lower house ten days before a parliamentary session, after which it will be vetted to ensure that it does not reveal state secrets, trouble international relations, or undermine the “interests” of the state. Should the poor, defenceless question survive that mangle, the speaker of the lower house still has the right to reject it, with no appeal.
Members themselves have been warned not to bring “cameras, radios, cassette players, computers, hand phones, and any kinds of voice-transmission or recording devices” into parliament on opening day. And no citizen should even think of turning up to sample the cut and thrust of parliamentary debate. Without the direct permission of the speaker, such an enormity would warrant at least a year in prison or a hefty fine.
Both the lower and upper houses will be dominated by the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP), a proxy for the military government. The USDP won an overwhelming majority of seats at the election, in part because of a boycott by the main opposition party, the National League for Democracy (NLD), led by Aung San Suu Kyi, released in November from house arrest. The NLD won the previous free election in 1990.
In both houses the USDP has nearly four-fifths of the contested seats. Meanwhile, the army has a reserved quota of a quarter of all seats in both chambers, as well as in the regional state parliaments. A military-controlled parliament therefore has the means to keep dissent to a minimum. The dictator, Than Shwe, could easily win the presidency should he want it. He may, however, prefer to stay in the background and pull strings.
Parliamentary opposition, such as it is, will come from two sources, the National Democratic Force (NDF) and the so-called ethnic parties, 17 of which won at least one seat, representing Myanmar’s diverse ethnic patchwork. The NDF is made up mostly of former members of the NLD who disagreed with Miss Suu Kyi’s call to boycott the election. They won a mere 16 seats, but have been talking a good game in the run-up to parliament’s opening. Khin Maung Shwe, a senior NDF official, argues that “although we have small numbers, we have a chance to use our voice on behalf of the people.” He says that the NDF will table three motions: an amnesty for political prisoners, a new competition law for business and a new law concerning rights to agricultural land.
Still, given the numerical and procedural odds against it, the opposition will struggle to make headway. Indeed, by taking part in a democratic charade, the NDF might merely provide a figleaf for the dictatorship. As it is, ASEAN, the ten-nation Association of South-East Asian Nations, is using the opening of parliament to argue for the lifting of longstanding Western sanctions on the grounds that the country has reformed itself. Mr Khin Maung Shwe rebuffs his party’s critics, arguing that the NDF is “neither a military puppet nor on a confrontational line”.
More might be expected of the ethnic parties, as they at least have sizeable minorities in the seven state legislatures (out of 14) to which they were elected. Nonetheless, it is certain that the central government will want to keep a tight control over these assemblies too. The state parliaments will not sit in their regional capitals, as you might imagine, but in the parliament building at Naypyidaw.
The NLD, for its part, dismisses the parliament as a sham. Win Tin, a party official who was jailed for 19 years before being released in 2008, says that “the parliament is nothing. Whether inside parliament or outside, the situation is almost the same. You have no freedom of expression.”
Instead, Mr Win Tin says, the NLD can act “as a second government”. Although the NLD is still fighting in the courts to regain its legal status as a political party, forfeited because of last year’s election boycott, it realises it needs to be more creative in its opposition. One idea is to use the internet to create a sort of “online parliament”, where issues can be debated among those in opposition, both inside and outside the country. This week Miss Suu Kyi got her first internet connection. She has also been spending a lot of time visiting welfare and other programmes run by her party to try to rebuild it from the grassroots.
Despite government hopes that parliamentary sittings will sideline Miss Suu Kyi, evidence suggests that she remains as popular in Myanmar as ever. Indeed, the real test of the regime’s claims to be heading in a new democratic direction will come not in parliament but when Ms Suu Kyi tries to travel out of Yangon, taking her message to the rest of the country. That is when the regime has clamped down hard before, forcing Miss Suu Kyi to endure years of house arrest. Will it dare to do so again?