By AUNG ZAW
Thursday, February 28, 2008

The Burmese military regime’s planned referendum in May continues to draw mixed reactions. Its announcement yesterday that there are stiff penalties in store for those who oppose the referendum—on a constitution which nobody has seen—shows that the junta is not only holding its “road map to democracy” close to its chest, but is also intent on keeping its hands firmly on the steering wheel.

Suddenly, after taking more than 14 years to draft the constitution, the regime’s leader, Snr-Gen Than Shwe, has hit the accelerator. The road ahead may not be so smooth, however, so the aging hardliner is taking no chances. Between now and 2010, he has to ensure that nothing stands in the way of his efforts to enshrine military supremacy once and for all.

On Wednesday, the Burmese-language Myanma Alin published a new law signed by the general. The state-controlled newspaper reported that those who make speeches and distribute statements and posters against the referendum will face sentences of up to three years imprisonment and fines of 100,000 kyat (US $77).

There will be no independent body to monitor the referendum, raising fears that Burmese citizens will be forced to vote “yes” at gunpoint.

It is clear that Than Shwe is hoping his road map will somehow get him out the mess that the regime has been mired in since its brutal suppression of the monk-led uprising last September. But ordinary Burmese would be only too happy to express their disgust at the junta’s handling of the biggest demonstrations since 1988 by voting a resounding “no” to their constitution. So Than Shwe must make it clear to all that “no” is not an option.

It has been 35 years since Burma’s last referendum. In 1973, Gen Ne Win, who had seized power 11 years earlier, decided to legitimize his rule by calling on the Burmese people to endorse a new constitution based on his “Burmese Way to Socialism.” The following year, basking in newfound legitimacy, Gen Ne Win became the country’s civilian president and continued to rule until 1988.

Winning “yes” votes in 1973 had been easy. Ne Win enjoyed the backing of veteran politicians and a significant portion of the population. The country was not in turmoil (though the army was struggling to suppress ethnic and communist rebellions in the mountains and hills), and the international community wasn’t really paying attention.

Fifteen years later, faced with a nationwide uprising, Ne Win tried once again to hold a referendum, this time on a transition from one-party rule to multiparty democracy. But that referendum never happened. Ne Win saw the referendum as a way out, but it was too late. He finally quit in disgrace.

Now, after almost twenty years in power, Than Shwe wants to hold a referendum to approve a military-sponsored constitution that the regime has been drafting since 1993.

Than Shwe faces a very different situation from Ne Win in 1973, and he knows it. He is widely loathed, and his referendum wouldn’t stand a chance of success if people were free to exercise their rights. Indeed, most Burmese probably made up their minds the moment the referendum was announced on February 9: No way, Than Shwe.

Meanwhile, governments around the world remain ambivalent at best. In the West, some dismiss the referendum as a sham, while others reiterate the need for an inclusive, transparent process. Governments around Asia—most recently, Singapore and Indonesia—have also expressed reservations.

But for Than Shwe, there’s nowhere to go but forward. The country has hit a wall again, but that won’t stop him from pushing ahead with his plans to entrench the military in power indefinitely.

That means he will do everything possible to clear the road of obstacles. Anybody who stands in the way of the planned May referendum knows what they can expect. But with all the potholes in Than Shwe’s “Burmese Road to Democracy,” his efforts to drive the country into a permanent rut are going to be anything but smooth.