Just over two years ago, Tom Andrews, a United Nations special rapporteur, raised the prospect of Myanmar as a “failing state” – a claim that angered the junta and its allies who had done their best to legitimize military rule.
But the evidence continued to mount with the junta barely able to count half the population in last year’s census, which was to form the basis for elections to be held in December. Then the Sagaing-Mandalay earthquake ended any pretense of a military in control.
According to a data team assembled by the Democratic Voice of Burma, the March 28 quake has killed 4,345 people and injured 7,830. It also counted 129 aerial bombardments causing 71 deaths since the quake amid allegations the military is obstructing search and rescue efforts.
Sixty-seven of those air force bombings were staged after the military declared a ceasefire on April 2, in response to the havoc wrought by the quake.
There is no strict definition of a failed state, but it is usually defined as a state that has lost its effective ability to govern. That includes its people, territory, ability to maintain infrastructure, exercise control over its economy, and provide services like health and education.
Adding further fuel to the argument is the Fund for Peace, which publishes an annual Fragile State Index (FSI). It scores states on 12 factors and 100 sub-indicators and then raises an alert on states that are at the tipping point of becoming failed. It stops short of labeling a state as failed.
Somalia, Yemen, South Sudan, DR Congo, and Syria are currently ranked among the worst five FSI spots, as they are on the brink of failing. Myanmar occupies 12th place after Ethiopia and Haiti.
However, according to Bradley Murg, an adjunct research fellow with Pacific Forum, it is the “monopoly of violence” that truly defines what constitutes a state, and on that basis, Myanmar can only be defined as failed, even if propped up by China and Russia.
This theory was initially put forward by German sociologist Max Weber, considered by many as the father of modern state theory more than a century ago, and holds to the idea that the state is the sole legitimate user of physical force within a territory.
Where this monopoly collapses, chaos follows.
“By any measurement, really, Myanmar is a failed state, but ultimately, I think some folks are saying it can’t be called a failed state unless the junta collapses. In practice, that’s what folks are thinking of it as, okay, if the junta is there, well, Myanmar [is] still there,” Murg said.
Russian and Chinese military supplies have kept the junta well stocked since its leader, Gen. Minh Aung Hlaing, ousted the elected government of Aung San Suu Kyi in early 2021, tipping the country into a bloody civil war. About 60,000 lives have since been lost.
But the junta has still lost control of its borders after 18 months of intense fighting, and the opposition National Unity Government (NUG) in exile is claiming that more than 70 percent of Myanmar’s territory is under its control. That is overly optimistic.
It also likes to claim the support of the 20 Ethnic Armed Organizations (EAOs), each fighting for the independence of their homelands while acting as the political umbrella for its armed wing, the People’s Defence Force (PDF). Again, that’s a stretch.
By most counts, the EAOs and PDFs hold absolute control over about 45 percent of Myanmar’s territory, with 40 percent still being fought over.
The military can only claim absolute control over 15 percent of the country, including the populous cities of Yangon, Naypyidaw, and the Sagaing-Mandalay area, which was devastated by the quake.
“Does a state have a monopoly on violence on its territory? And very obviously, for the sake of looking at Myanmar, no, the government of Myanmar [the military] doesn’t have a monopoly on violence,” Murg said.
“We know that the military doesn’t even control half the country’s territory at this stage. So, from a very, very simple definition, does the military in Myanmar hold a monopoly on violence? I would say Myanmar qualifies as a failed state.”
Mother Nature and catastrophic incidents have long helped in reshaping domestic politics. In many cases, the authorities’ response set the pace in determining the course of events – like the 1976 Tangshan earthquake in northern China.
Failed rescue efforts and the harsh security response upset many and provided the initial anger that ended the cultural revolution, made possible by the death of Mao Zedong six weeks later.
The 2004 Indonesian earthquake and tsunami accelerated an end to the long-running conflict in Aceh. And it was outrage over the Myanmar military’s poor handling in the aftermath of Cyclone Nargis in 2008 that helped shape political reform, culminating in Suu Kyi’s election in 2015.
The European Union, Japan, Britain, Australia, and Canada all announced they would provide immediate multi-million-dollar aid packages, but much of the Western funding is being directed through the International Committee for the Red Cross (ICRC).
Importantly, as Australian Foreign Minister Penny Wong noted, aid would not be funneled through the military, and proactive steps would be taken to ensure the assistance does not legitimize the military regime in Myanmar.
In recent years, Australia has been meek in speaking out on such issues but has found its voice in the absence of the United States, which promised a paltry sum for earthquake victims after shutting down USAID, the United States Institute for Peace, and imposing 44 percent import tariffs.
That means countries from Japan to the EU and Canada to New Zealand must find a united voice on Myanmar. What comes next will be difficult and couched around their earthquake response over the coming months – for a country that now resembles Cambodia in the early 1990s.
*The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official editorial position of UCA News.
With thanks to Union of Catholic Asian (UCA) News and Luke Hunt, where this article originally appeared.
