MYANMAR
By Alice Dawkins*
Myanmar Times-Apr 11
When the news emerged that human rights barrister Amal Clooney would join the legal team of Reuters reporters Wa Lone and Kyaw Soe Oo, both international and local news media gave it a lot of attention.
I recognize at least two big issues here, among many others – not least of which are the military’s concern about national security and the impunity that accompanies it, and the shameful spread of disinformation on Rakhine State. The first is personal, the need for a timely resolution and for Wa Lone and Kyaw Soe Oo to be returned to their families as soon as possible. The second is more political and relates to the way issues of political freedom transpire in Myanmar courts and the role domestic lawyers are allowed to play.
The first issue is self-evident: there is no good argument justifying the prolonged detention of the two journalists, who have been wrongfully prosecuted under archaic laws simply for reporting the news. The second issue is how cases of such international interest proceed in Myanmar and how the country’s lawyers can go about their jobs.
Reuters’ recruitment of Amal Clooney instantly elevates the case further into the international spotlight. For those of us who have not been privy to Reuters’ strategy meetings, we can only imagine it forms part of a mission to draw more attention to the case and place additional pressure on the government, as we will hear back from the court next week.
I am a dedicated fan of Ms Clooney, but her involvement in this way bothers me. Some questions need to be asked: Did the current legal team request external help to argue the case? Did other senior lawyers in the country refuse to take the case? I ask these questions because the recruitment of a foreign lawyer risks reinforcing an incorrect but widely held assumption that local lawyers are inept.
I spent most of 2017 living in Myanmar and researching my thesis on how local lawyers mobilize for justice. I went to central Myanmar, where I lived with a team of dedicated lawyers and activists who advocate for farmers in land-grab cases. I went to the north, near the Chinese border, where lawyers rally against military power by representing ethnic minorities embroiled in criminal proceedings. Around Yangon, I observed the daily rhythm of law offices where lawyers act for unaccompanied minors, vulnerable women, and the homeless.
The fragmentation of political issues across the country leads to varying specialties for activist lawyers. Lawyers in Myitkyina aligned with the Kachin ethno-nationalist movement know the nuances of the Unlawful Associations Act far more intimately than their colleagues in Yangon. Lawyers working across the dry zone who operate in tandem with civil society organizations to advocate for farmers’ rights know the law of trespass extremely well. I would expect that there are many senior lawyers who have acted in Official Secrets Act cases – the law under which the two journalists have been charged.
Of course, the lawyers I met arguably represent the sector’s elite. It would be a stretch to claim they represent Myanmar’s legal profession at-large. Following the military takeover in 1962, the practice of law fell swiftly into decline. Legal education deteriorated, the bar association lost autonomy. The lawyers who speak truth to power in activist communities across the country do so in spite of decades of adverse conditions. In some ways they are the exception to the rule: they have been able to educate themselves when legal education has been deficient, through mentoring relationships with the profession’s elders and opportunities for career development with local and regional civil society initiatives.
These lawyers and their mentors are no strangers to grave personal risk. Many of them, or their immediate community, have been political prisoners. Most of them are embedded in the pro-democracy movement. Throughout the career metamorphoses of the democratic transition, some veteran activist lawyers have entered political office and now occupy seats as NLD representatives in the state or national legislatures. One politician I met, who was in her early thirties, juggles a position in the state legislature with taking land rights cases pro bono in her spare time.
We too easily forget the toils and silent victories of Myanmar lawyers when our eyes turn, star-struck, to a foreign import from London. Some may applaud that Ms Clooney is drawing more attention to the case, but looking into the long-term ramifications, she could be better placed to play a different role.
Wa Lone and Kyaw Soe Oo’s legal team has argued for the case to be dismissed on the grounds of insufficient evidence. Should they succeed, it is more likely than not that Ms Clooney will receive credit for the achievement. But it is the lawyers on the local team who have done the legwork up until this crucial moment and who shoulder all of the personal risks for their involvement in the case.
These perceptions matter because, despite millions in donor funding pledged toward strengthening the rule of law in the country, many foreign consultants still know very little about Myanmar’s lawyers, who have fought hard for political freedom all their lives.
Ms Clooney’s addition to Wa Lone and Kyaw Soe Oo’s legal team unwittingly risks sustaining the tiresome and out-of-touch belief that there are no lawyers in Myanmar who are equipped to successfully advocate for justice and political freedom. I would say to those tempted to think so, that there are plenty.
*Alice Dawkins is a researcher from the Australian National University who examined the history of the Kuomintang in Myanmar and is studying the development of Myanmar political lawyers. She reads the Chinese and Myanmar languages.
(first published in Myanmar Times – https://www.mmtimes.com/news/do-two-reuters-reporters-need-clooney.html)
