KWAI WIAT, Karen State — Outside a remote prison deep in the jungles of eastern Burma, young men sweat through their withdrawal in the dense heat of early summer. The inmates at this modest facility, about 60 of them in all, were arrested by ethnic Mon rebels for drug sales or possession, and have been sentenced to a sober stint of road-building in the underdeveloped region.
Kwai Wiat village is the site of a rebel military base run by the Mon National Liberation Army (MNLA), an approximately 1,000-strong ethnic armed group currently participating in union-level peace negotiations with the government. But unlike many of the small army’s strongholds, this one is located in neighboring Karen State, where two other non-state forces—the Karen National Liberation Army (KNLA) and the Democratic Karen Benevolent Army (DKBA)—reign supreme.
After an uneasy drive of about one-and-a-half hours southeast from Mudon in Mon State, we arrived at the base where this small and experimental prison was established to curb the growing plague of drug use among the Mon communities peppered throughout the mostly Karen area. Mon soldiers claim that drugs are often trafficked and traded by DKBA soldiers trying to earn more income, much to the detriment of those Mon youths who lack education and employment.
Many of the inmates are young, aged between 15 and 45 years old. All but three are ethnic Mon, and are serving sentences ranging from three months to three years, depending on the severity of their offense, mostly related to the use or distribution of amphetamines. The unarmed guards watched over them as they chipped away at the rudimentary beginnings of a new road.
“They are not bad boys,” one guard told the Irrawaddy as the group paused for a lunch break, “but they have money and they don’t know how badly drugs can damage their lives.” Prisoners and guards alike spoke openly to our team, explaining how the facility came to be and why its operations are so seemingly relaxed.
The prisoners aren’t violent criminals, the guard said, which is clear after watching the group joke around and talk over a playful recess. Most of the inmates are allowed to move relatively freely in and out of the prison grounds, while 20 who have been charged with serious crimes are kept under heightened security.
Most of the prisoners said their treatment was fair, and that beyond being treated for drug addiction when necessary, they also had educational opportunities while doing time. Inmates attended nightly lessons in Mon language, as well as Buddhist teachings. Work starts at 9 am and ends at 5 pm, during which they either build roads or fences for the MNLA. When their sentences are over, some choose to join the rebel army, but recruitment is optional.
Waste of Human Resources
Min Soe Nwe, who leads the rehabilitation program in the prison, said that government inaction on the growing drug problem among minorities has left it to rebel leaders to find a solution. In their view, he said, minority groups suffer from a severe lack of human resources when they lose able-bodied youths to narcotics.
“The working age for our people is between 16 and 45,” he said, “but if they use drugs, they are wasting human resources for the Mon people. They can’t create literature, they can’t run businesses.”
Sadly, he pointed out, many minority youths do not have adequate access to education and become addicted to drugs before they are even aware of the risks. While the New Mon State Party (NMSP, the political wing of the MNLA) has taken a hard line on drug eradication, the government could do more to help, he said.
Easier said than done, argued Aung Naing Oo, a member of the Mon State legislature who is also ethnically Mon. He said that the issue is often tabled in Parliament, but that a lack of resources, such as rehab facilities and a skilled police force, inhibit political will and progress.
“Police have become more active about arresting drug users and dealers, but there aren’t enough facilities or even enough police,” Aung Naing Oo said.
Further complicating matters, several Mon authorities said, is that ethnic Karen rebel authorities in the area don’t feel the same incentive to solve the problem, and the MNLA cannot enforce drug restrictions in areas outside of its control. Min Soe Nwe said that while policies enforced by the MNLA have made it much more difficult for users to purchase dugs—in part by driving up prices within its own territories by increasing penalties—in some cases the efforts simply push addicts in the direction of Karen rebels who are willing to sell cheaper drugs in areas beyond their reach.
“We know of about 10 houses in DKBA territory where they sell drugs in two different villages,” he said, remarking that the houses are “like a market” for narcotics and that “anyone can buy it” for about 4,000 kyats (US$4) per amphetamine tablet.
Cultural Costs
Mon people are as known as devout Buddhists, a deep cultural tie that local religious leaders claim is also feeling the fallout of a rise in drug dependence. Nai Htwe, a senior Buddhist monk in Mon State, told The Irrawaddy that the plague of addiction has slowly crept into the monastery, corroding what was once a sacred place of respite. While the consumption of alcohol is not strictly forbidden in all Mon Buddhist homes, provided that it was donated during food collection ceremonies, he lamented that “the culture has changed.”
Nowadays, he said, he sees more and more users entering the monkhood, but not necessarily for help or spiritual rehabilitation. Nai Htwe said that some users go so far as to ask patrons for drugs instead of food at donation ceremonies before entering the monastery. Some even show up high at ordination, so intoxicated that they can barely recite the scriptures, which must be repeated three times to become a monk.
Seemingly at a loss for words, Nai Htwe remarked only that, “it is sad for our culture.”
