Hopeful for the future

Editor’s note: This column originally was published in The Journal-Gazette (Fort Wayne).
RANGOON, Burma — And so it comes down to a single question: What do I tell the people in Fort Wayne?
Four of us are sitting in a Chinese restaurant about 100 yards from the Rangoon River.
I am there by happenstance.
Though I’m a small town Indiana newspaper guy, I’ve also been involved in free press development work for the past 14 years or so. In late January, I was asked to consider taking on a project to help journalists do a better job covering the April 1 by-elections in Burma.
I’m not the perfect person for the job. Most of my work has been in the former Soviet Union, trying to help newspapers become self-sufficient. But apparently, the perfect person was unavailable, so here I am.
Across from me sits a man who is simultaneously a journalist, an activist, and a mentor to scores of young reporters.
Beside him sits one of those young reporters, a guy who will help translate my seminar on election coverage but who is also a freelance journalist and a trainer in his own right.
I haven’t posed my question to either of them, though they are both well aware that Fort Wayne is in many ways the center of the Burmese refugee community in America. Any time I mention I am from Indiana, it’s a short hop to mentioning Fort Wayne.
Three of us are drinking Tiger beer, not so the man to my left. He’s having a Fanta orange soda.
Prison has a way of sobering one up.
In his case, prison came as a result of a little book of political poems he had published back in 1982. Two years behind bars followed.
His wife, who is pregnant with their first child, due in July, was also imprisoned for two years. Her crime: Reporting on families who petitioned the government for assistance.
Welcome to Burma.
Though the country appears to be on the edge of historic change, it’s still a place where possession of foreign currency is unlawful and could land you behind bars, despite the fact that a good chunk of the economy involves transactions in dollars.
It’s still a place where weekly newspapers — only the government can have a daily — must submit a draft copy of their next edition about three days before publication. The censors — the Press Scrutiny Board — mark out any offending information, right down to the single word. And revisions must be made — swapping out a political article for a soft feature — the night before the newspaper hits the press.
But now, things may be changing.
A by-election is set for April 1, and the National League for Democracy is on the ballot. Aung San Suu Kyi is likely to be elected to a minority seat in parliament.
We are in uncharted territory.
The door appears to be opening. But no one knows whether it will suddenly slam shut.
No one knows how Aung San Suu Kyi can bring about change from a minority position. No one knows whether she’ll accept a position as a minister, perhaps foreign minister, which would legally end her role as party leader. No one knows who else is ready to step up in leadership for the National League for Democracy; it’s as opaque as the government.
And so I ask the question, I ask it of a journalist who has been behind bars and whose pregnant wife has been behind bars: Is this change real?
He sips his Fanta.
“I hope so,” he says.
So do I.

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