Aung San Suu Kyi’s flawed experiment in Myanmar democracy has been brutally killed off – with China emerging the clear winner

Back in 1989, when the Myanmar army first locked her up, Aung San Suu Kyi was seen around the world as the great hope of a country that had been under the boot of the military for nearly 30 years.

Her courage in defying the army’s efforts to close down the new party she led – the National League for Democracy (NLD) – won her the status of a heroine; and, two years later, the Nobel Peace Prize. It was well deserved.

Thirty years on, things are very different. She remains hugely popular with her compatriots, and her party’s landslide win in last November’s election was even larger than in 2015, when she came to power. But for the outside world, her fall from grace has been resounding.

When the military launched its assault on the Rohingya in 2016, forcing hundreds of thousands into Bangladesh, she refused to condemn it. Two years later, she travelled to the International Court of Justice at The Hague to defend its actions against charges of genocide.

For a rebel who had suffered 15 years of detention by the army to become its obedient servant – its human shield – seemed as despicable as it was bizarre.

The reality was more nuanced. Since entering mainstream politics in 2012, Suu Kyi had tried to revise a constitution which, while ensuring some degree of democracy, guarantees the army a leading role in running the country.

She has failed in the attempt, because the constitution was expertly fashioned so as to be impossible to revise. And, despite her words and actions in defence of the army, relations between her and General Min Aung Hlaing, the head of the army, have cooled to freezing point. It is reported that they have not spoken since 2018.

Yet the status quo appeared to suit the army very well. The appearance of democracy made Myanmar respectable in the international community’s eyes; new economic sanctions were out of the question. And meanwhile, by retaining control of key government ministries, the army continued to have a firm grip on power, however badly its proxy party fared in elections. Why stage a coup now?

Two explanations suggest themselves – not necessarily mutually exclusive.

First: Min Aung Hlaing turns 65 in the summer, and was due to retire. Like other Myanmar strongmen before him, he may well fancy a longer spell in the sun, to guarantee a secure and well-provided old age.

Second: the China factor. China has always been an uncomfortable neighbour for Myanmar, sharing as it does a 2,000km border; maintaining harmonious relations has been a priority both for Suu Kyi and the army.

But from China’s perspective, the arrival of Joe Biden was an ominous development. It was Biden’s Democratic predecessor, Barack Obama, who made a priority of kick-starting democracy in Myanmar, as a way of peeling it away from the Chinese sphere of influence.

Mr Biden has appointed the official responsible for that policy, Kurt Campbell – author of The Pivot (2016), a book about the US’s shift of focus from the Middle East to Asia – his point man on Asia, as he was for Obama.

For America’s Democrats, Myanmar represents unfinished business. By putting Suu Kyi in detention and closing down the duly elected parliament, Min Aung Hlaing has delivered an almighty snub to the new US administration.

Beijing has declined to pass any judgement on the coup, merely “noting” its occurrence. But whether or not a Chinese nod and a wink emboldened the general, Beijing is likely to be gratified by what has happened.

Peter Popham is the author of ‘The Lady and the Peacock’ (2011) and ‘The Lady and the Generals’ (2016).