Education in Myanmar: challenges created by an unstable political environment
Since its independence in 1948, Myanmar has been through a variety of political regimes and has been scarred by instability and incessant civil wars. […]
”Education, no matter what, in Myanmar”
In the land of a thousand pagodas, war and hardship are tearing Myanmar apart, deepening inequalities. With a fractured country and a desperate army tightening its grip, institutions are crumbling. In the midst of the chaos, children cling to their only hope: school… when it is still an option!
Text and photos: Guillaume MARIAU
The city is peaceful. In eastern Myanmar, the capital of Shan State pays tribute to the majestic peaks and summits that surround it. Taunggyi, which means “great mountain” in Burmese, may owe its calm today to the watchful presence of these towering sentinels, offering a rare haven of peace in a country torn by conflict.
Since the military coup on 1st February 2021, which plunged the country into a brutal new civil war, the ethnic capital has become a safe haven for internally displaced people. Its relative security makes it a prime destination for those fleeing the violence in the more vulnerable areas. At the end of a busy street, a vocational training centre for adults has slowly turned into an orphanage. In October 2024, almost one hundred and thirty children are living in this unsuitable facility, far from their families. They have come from all corners of the country, searching for safety. Some have not seen their parents in over a year, but tonight, in the soft glow of a classroom, the children are singing.
A chorus of children’s voices, the improvised lyrics of this simple song convey more clearly than any speech the anguish of these young students:
«We all lose when they feed on the souls of the innocent,
On bloodstained streets…
Keep moving through the waters,
Stay strong.
In this madness, you might lose your way (your way),
It could drive you mad, but don’t let it get to you (not at all),
[…]
One day, all of this will change.
People will treat each other with respect.
End the violence, put an end to the hate.
One day, we will all be free.»
Some have not seen their parents in over a year…
URGENCY AND SURVIVAL
The sense of oppression is widespread in Myanmar’s ethnic areas, on the borders of the country, where most of the fighting is taking place today.
“Travel within the country has become incredibly challenging due to military checkpoints and the prevailing insecurity. Some areas we used to visit monthly are now completely unreachable, even once a year,” says Khin, a determined and action-oriented woman, in charge of an education program with the Episcopal Conference.
In Taunggyi, several leaders of the organization gathered to try to coordinate their efforts. Currently, eighteen million Myanmar citizens, or thirty-two percent of the country’s total population, are facing food insecurity — meaning they do not have enough to eat and require humanitarian assistance.
It is 6 times higher than in 2020, during the global pandemic. In this context, the Catholic Church, known for its neutrality, is working to meet the needs of refugees, especially children who have been forced out of school. Around three point four million Myanmar citizens have fled the fighting, fearing for their lives and those of their families. Forty percent of these displaced people are children, according to UNICEF’s latest estimates.
The leaders gathered that day to discuss action plans all agreed on one thing: the country is facing a critical emergency that demands immediate action to meet the basic needs of these children — feeding, caring for, and protecting them from bombs and landmines. “However, we must not forget another crucial issue for the future survival of these thousands of children: education!” Khin firmly asserts.
WITHOUT RICE, NO SURVIVAL
In Karen State, nearly four hundred kilometres south of Taunggyi, Lian drives a pickup along a narrow track through the jungle. Steep mountains, dense vegetation, and scattered villages made this region a stronghold of the Karen guerrilla. For decades, they were among the few to resist military rule.
Since 2021, the militias have resumed fighting, and the villages continue to live in extreme poverty. The lean, weathered figures of those who greet the car speak of the harsh life in these areas, where there is no electricity, no internet, and no paved roads. Independence has its price. The country’s impressive growth since opening up in 2011 has yet to reach the eastern jungle. Here, a village’s wellbeing still largely depends on the weather and the harvest. As the year ends in 2024, the situation has been bad for both the weather and the harvest. “This year, it rained heavily, and the rice fields were flooded by the excess water,” says a villager, showing photos on an old phone of rice paddies turned into stagnant ponds.
While rice usually grows in water for part of the time, an excess of it tends to rot the crop. The villagers are forced to buy rice at inflated prices, which have doubled since Typhoon Yagi hit last September.
“Whenever we visit the villages where our schools are based, we now make sure to bring rice to support them,” says Lian, as men unload the pickup truck in preparation for the distribution. This Burmese woman, of Karen origin and now a Thai citizen, runs a network of informal schools across Karen State. The schools are built and supported by various international organisations, including Children of the Mekong.
School in the Trenches
As they approach a wooden building, the person in charge explains hurriedly: “This school was funded and built by Children of the Mekong, along with a Singaporean foundation, back in 2008. It has not been used for the past year because the villagers are scared. A cluster bomb went off just 50 metres from the school last year, right there in that field.” While speaking, Lian follows a group of around ten children who have come to greet her, guiding her to what now serves as their classroom: a small hut in the jungle, surrounded by trenches dug a metre deep. Upon closer inspection, it seems that each home is equipped with a similar setup.
“It is protection against bombs,” a villager says briefly. The reasoning seems clear to him: since the conflict began, the powerful Tatmadaw, the Burmese army backing the military junta, has been supplied with fighter jets and cluster bombs by Russia. “The planes fly over the villages at night. When they spot lights, they drop bombs.”
“They aim to instil fear. They target schools, temples, and churches,” Lian adds. Cluster bombs and submunition bombs, banned by a United Nations convention since 2010 (though not all countries have signed it), are aerial bombs that explode either before hitting their target or upon impact. They release thousands of shards (or mini-bombs in the case of submunitions), which scatter at high speeds in unpredictable directions.
In 2023, Human Rights Watch reported that 95% of the victims of this type of weapon were civilians, 71% of whom were children, showing the brutal and indiscriminate harm they cause. “At the slightest sound of an engine, the villagers rush into these makeshift shelters, hoping for safety,” Lian concludes, addressing an anxious crowd. Life in these villages, at the heart of the conflict zones, has been completely altered—an existence lived on the edge, at the margins of the world. Buildings too exposed to the sky are abandoned in favour of the protection offered by the woods. From a young age, children learn to rush to the trenches for safety, while adults keep watch over the sky and listen intently for any engine sounds. But death does not only come from above. In 2023, Myanmar became the country with the highest number of deaths and injuries from landmines and unexploded ordnance. By 2024, over one thousand people had been killed or injured by these devices.
Seventy-one percent of those affected by cluster bombs are children.
Fear is undermining the youth
Amidst the chaos, the one thing that remains constant is that school goes on. This is the result of many people working together for the children’s sake, using their energy and resources to provide them with a sense of stability.
In Yangon, Dah is adamant: maintaining education is crucial in these troubled times, both in the city and in rural areas: “School dropout and idleness expose young teenagers, in particular, to far greater dangers.” Some are drawn to the widespread drugs, with certain ethnic groups producing and trafficking them to fund their weapons. Others are recruited into the army or militias, where child soldiers are still accepted. Most of them are quickly put to work by their parents in the fields. Some are married off at a young age. As a result, all hope of getting an education disappears.
Young people who drop out of school face serious consequences. Some lose hope and feel they have no future. The overriding emotion everywhere, in both conflict
zones and areas with some stability (like Yangon and the main cities), is fear. In the economic capital, a restaurant owner shares, ‘Most of my employees are young people who dropped out of school when the war began.’
Since February 2024, when the law requiring men aged 18 to 35 to join the army was announced, half of my staff disappeared overnight,” he says. And it is not just the young men who are affected by this climate of distrust. “Everyone is suspicious of everyone else. When you see a soldier, you can’t tell if they are a ‘watermelon’—green on the outside due to their uniform, but red on the inside, a symbol of resistance against the junta. “When you get into a taxi, you have to be very careful about what you say. The driver might be listening and could report you,” explains Jin, the regional coordinator for Children of the Mekong, who has to navigate between government schools and informal schools.
In the refugee camps, education is provided by teachers who have resigned or by volunteers.
Teenagers who have dropped out of school are exposed to dangers such as drugs, child labour, and military recruitment.
Maintaining a network of informal schools that serves everyone despite these challenges is therefore a key priority.
At times, classrooms are set up in community centres or even parish halls.
A SECRET ARMY… FOR THE SAKE OF EDUCATION
The fragmentation and geopolitical instability of the country are such that the government-run schools are seen in most conflict areas as a propaganda tool serving the military regime.
To counter the lack of education in the most affected regions, a determined network of resistance fighters works daily to ensure that children across the country still have access to basic education, believing it is vital for both personal and national development. Khin, Lian, Dah, and Jin are all members of this unseen force, dedicated to the younger generation and the future, standing as a barrier against barbarism.
Thanks to their efforts, schools have been set up in regions where public education has ceased to function (mainly in Kayah State, South Shan, Karen State, and Chin State). Classes are held in displaced persons camps, parish halls, boarding houses, private homes,
or in abandoned public school buildings. “These informal schools are really struggling – they have no proper buildings, no desks, and often no chairs for the students. In some places, classes are held in tents. When it rains or when the bombs start falling, the children have to rush to find shelter,” Dah explains, recalling the situations he has witnessed.
The teachers are the backbone of this network, without whom nothing would be possible. They include former teachers who resigned after the coup to express their disagreement (40 to 50% resigned following the military takeover), retired teachers, post-graduate students who received brief training, and boarding school supervisors. “Volunteers are sadly few and often lack proper training,” says Dah. The focus is mainly on basic subjects like Burmese, maths, and history, with some educational activities and support provided to help the young cope with the trauma of the war.
School provides children with a sense of relief, but it is also where emotions are often expressed, sometimes without holding back. Who can predict the lasting effects of the trauma they have endured? In Taunggyi, Dominique, a foreign psychologist, works at a rehabilitation centre focused on addiction treatment, where he witnesses the profound impact of these experiences. Since the war began, his patients have changed completely: “Every day, dozens of children and adults come to me asking for help to overcome their struggles. They have survived bombings and seen loved ones blown up by landmines,” he says. Specialising in trauma therapy, he has gradually been affected by the suffering of these children, eventually turning his rehabilitation centre into a school.
Lyrics of the orphans' song from Taunggyi
One Day…
Sometimes, I lie beneath the moon’s soft glow
And thank the heavens for the gift of life
Then I whisper a prayer, “Do not take me yet,
For I am here, with purpose yet to show…”
Sometimes, I drown in my own tears,
But I refuse to let them weigh me down
When darkness wraps its cold embrace,
I know, one day, the world will turn around…
For all my life, I have awaited this day,
I have prayed for words like these to be spoken:
“We no longer wish to fight.”
There will be no more wars,
And our children will play in peace.
[One day, one day, one day] x2
It’s never about winning or losing,
For we all suffer when innocence is stolen,
On the bloodstained streets where hope once lay…
But still, we move through the stormy night,
Stay strong, even when the path seems lost (so lost)
It may drive you mad, but don’t let it break you (never break you)
One day, it will all change.
People will treat one another as equals,
We’ll stop the violence, end the hate.
One day, we’ll be free,
And stand together, under the same sun,
Singing songs of freedom.
Whether it is Dominique in Taunggyi, the many religious communities opening their doors to refugees, the volunteer teachers in conflict zones, or the coordinators working between schools—each one of them risks imprisonment for standing up for these children and their right to an education.
“Whenever we travel, the army systematically stops us for a check. They go through my phone, examining my messages and checking if I use a VPN,” one of them explains. “The last time, they even looked at my hands to see if I was used to holding a weapon.” Aware of the risks, he stays determined, convinced that the cause is worth the sacrifice. Sister He, a nun who had been living in Italy, feels the same sense of responsibility. In 2022, she chose to return to her country, despite the violent repression.
In a single sentence, without hesitation yet with a gravity that fills the air, she sums up her commitment to the innocent victims: “I may not save them, but at least I will suffer with them.” In the silence that follows, one can almost hear the distant echo of the orphans’ song from Taunggyi:
One day, we will all be free!
ADDITIONAL STORIES ABOUT MYANMAR
Myanmar, the state of play in this troubled country
Myanmar is one of the six countries of operation of Children of the Mekong. The country is facing multiple crises and the first victims […]
Myanmar, an ethnic mosaic
Text and photos: Manon Massiat, Julie Pleven and Jean-Baptiste Mathorel