In
Myanmar's new war on drugs, meet the weapon of mass destruction: the
weed-whacker.
Its two-stroke engine spins a metal blade,
which is more commonly deployed to tame the suburban gardens of wealthy
Westerners. But today, in a remote valley in impoverished Shan State, Myanmar
police armed with weed-whackers are advancing through fields of thigh-high
poppies, leaving a carpet of stems in their wake.
When the police are finished, their uniforms
are flecked with a sticky brown sap harvested from these flowers for centuries:
opium. Myanmar produced an estimated 610 tonnes in 2011, making it the world's
second-biggest opium supplier after Afghanistan, according to the United
Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC). The area under poppy cultivation has
doubled in the past five years.
Now, emerging from half a century of military
dictatorship, Myanmar says it wants to buck that trend.
Since taking power a year ago, the nominally
civilian government of President Thein Sein has launched a series of political
and economic reforms. It has also dramatically accelerated a campaign to
eradicate opium poppies and shed Myanmar's pariah status as one of the world's
top drug producers.
Myanmar officials allowed a Reuters reporter
and photographer to visit former conflict areas in remote Shan State to examine
the campaign, marking the first time in decades that Western journalists were
able to report freely in the region.
The five-day journey with the UNODC and local
police came as Myanmar appeals to foreign donors for half a billion dollars to
finance a program it says will wean 256,000 households off poppy-growing over
the next three years.
WIPED
OUT BY 2014?
"Every year the international community
spends millions of dollars (on anti-narcotics initiatives) in countries like
Afghanistan and Colombia, and the outcome is not satisfactory," Sit Aye,
senior legal advisor to President Thein Sein, said in an interview. "Here,
with international assistance, we guarantee to wipe out the opium problem by
2014."
It is an ambitious goal. Police, soldiers and
villagers armed with sticks and weed-whackers have destroyed 21,256 hectares
(52,525 acres) of poppy fields since September, more than triple the area
eradicated during the previous growing season, according to Myanmar's Central
Committee for Drug Abuse Control (CCDAC). This has potentially prevented almost
30 tonnes of heroin, opium's most notorious derivative, from hitting the world
market, according to calculations based on UNODC statistics.
But opium had been harvested from some poppies
before they were destroyed, Reuters found. And while more poppy is being
destroyed, more is also being grown: the total area under cultivation will
likely rise by about 10 percent between 2011 and 2012, the UNODC estimated.
This suggests that, with or without foreign assistance, Myanmar's three-year
target is unrealistic.
Most opium produced in Myanmar comes from Shan
State, a rugged and lawless region bordering China, Thailand and Laos. It is
part of the Golden Triangle, which is probably named after the gold once used
to buy opium. Here, and in neighboring Kachin State, poppies thrive not just on
cooler weather and higher altitudes, but on poverty and conflict.
For half a century, Myanmar has been torn
apart by fighting between government forces and various ethnic rebel groups
ranged along its borders, where people have endured the worst human rights
abuses.
The United States recently upgraded diplomatic
ties with the long-isolated Southeast Asian nation after Hillary Clinton's
historic visit there in November, the first by an American secretary of state
since 1955. But the U.S. and European countries regard Myanmar's making peace with
its long-suffering ethnic minorities as a key condition for lifting crippling
economic sanctions.
Forging a lasting peace is arguably Thein
Sein's toughest challenge, and it is complicated by opium. As in Afghanistan
and Colombia, the drug trade has long fueled conflict in Myanmar, providing
cash to buy weapons and a lucrative product to fight over. Opium and conflict
were so intertwined that one problem could not be solved without the other,
said Jason Eligh, UNODC country manager for Myanmar.
"The path to peace is lined with
poppies," he said. "We must address that."
Recent peace talks between the government and
ethnic rebel groups -- including two factions of the Shan State Army -- have
allowed poppy eradication in what were once no-go areas for the Myanmar
authorities. But the ceasefires were fragile, and a poorly managed eradication
campaign could cause them to unravel.
ALTERNATIVE
CROPS
Chopping down opium poppies is the easy part.
Helping former poppy-growing families develop alternative crops and livelihoods
is complicated and costly.
In Afghanistan, on the other side of the
Himalayas, opium production is so vast and sophisticated that it resembles a
legitimate agribusiness in some areas. But in Myanmar, poppies are produced
mainly by subsistence farmers who depend upon the cash opium generates to buy
food.
About 256,000 households are involved in opium
poppy cultivation, the UNODC estimates. The opium yield from an acre (a third
of a hectare) of Myanmar poppy is worth about $1,000. That's a life-saving sum
of money in Myanmar, where a third of its 60 million people live on a dollar a
day.
"The rapid elimination of opium poppy
creates serious problems for these households," Eligh said. "You have
people who couldn't harvest their poppies, who don't have any money, having to
survive for the next five or six months with almost nothing."
Alternative crops can't be planted until the
rains come in June or July. "We've got a very narrow window," Eligh
continued. "If they don't get help during that period, then there is a
very real chance that they'll go back to poppy."
The UNODC argues that the ceasefires create a
rare opportunity for the international community to help Myanmar tackle its
opium problem -- and, by extension, its civil war. The CCDAC is asking the
international community for $524.48 million to develop alternative livelihoods
for poppy-growing households.
Getting it will be an uphill task. Thanks to
sanctions, Myanmar receives less humanitarian aid per capita than almost any
other poor country.
"After 1988 we were sanctioned and banned
by Western countries," said Police Colonel Tin Maung Maung, the most
senior operational officer in the CCDAC. "We got no assistance from
them." Without outside help, he said, "We cannot do it. We need
international support."
BLESSING
AND CURSE
Myanmar's strategic location is a blessing and
a curse. As it emerges from nearly 50 years of isolation and misrule, the
country's long borders with China, India and Thailand grant access to Asia's
most dynamic economies. They also make it a regional hub for manufacturing and
distributing narcotics.
It shares a porous 2,100-km frontier with
China, where 2.2 million users consumed 45 tonnes of mostly Myanmar heroin in
2008, said the UNODC.
Shan State is named after Myanmar's largest
ethnic minority. The road east from its capital, the former British colonial
hill-station of Taunggyi, is a ribbon of blacktop unfurling through rice fields
and bustling market towns. At the roadside, Buddhist novice monks in maroon
robes held out bowls to solicit donations. This reporter traveled in UN
vehicles sandwiched between trucks carrying armed police. Their presence was
not ceremonial.
Last July, outside the nearby town of Loilem,
a rebel group called the Shan State Army (South) ambushed a Myanmar police
convoy, killing six people, reported the Shan Herald Agency for News, a news
service run by Shan exiles in Thailand. Shan rebels and a government militia
belonging to the Pa-O, the state's second-largest ethnic group, clashed
regularly.
Hostilities subsided in December after the SSA
(S) signed a ceasefire, but men with guns still roam this restive region. UNODC
regional chief Gary Lewis described Shan State as "a swirling and often
toxic mix of money, guns and drugs."
CHEROOTS,
TEMPLES AND GARLIC
The Pa-O are devout Buddhists, known for
growing poppies and building beautiful temples. At the village of Kyauk Ka
Char, the first stop in the five-day tour of the state, the temple was the
grandest structure in a community of simple wooden houses with rusting tin
roofs.
Inside, three giant Buddha statues smiled down
upon a group of villagers waiting to greet their rare visitors: Lewis and Eligh
from the UNODC, and Police Colonel Myint Aung of the CCDAC. The villagers wore
turbans, in the Pa-O style, and smoked cheroots and chewed betel nut.
Lewis delivered a stark message. "The days
of poppy are finished," he told the villagers, before asking what help
they needed to grow only legal crops.
Nobody said a word until a local
schoolteacher, who was translating between Pa-O and English, urged people to
talk freely without fear of arrest. The authorities had destroyed their poppies
once before, in 2005, and given them no compensation or assistance.
Growing alternative crops wasn't easy, said
Aung Tun, 40, a father of four. Many people grew cordia trees, whose leaves
were used to make traditional Myanmar cheroots. But the recent influx of cheap
Chinese cigarettes meant that fewer people smoked cheroots, making the leaves
increasingly unprofitable.
"We tried growing garlic and sugar cane
but there was no market for it," Aung Tun said. "We lost everything
we invested." Garlic fetched such a low price that some Pa-O villages left
it to rot in the fields.
Transporting these crops to market was also a
problem. Poppy-growing villages such as Kyauk Ka Char are remote, with unpaved
roads only passable in the dry season. By contrast, the market for opium was
guaranteed and transport wasn't an issue.
Most farmers grew two crops. The first, which
accounted for three quarters of the annual opium yield, was planted in
September or October, and harvested about three months later; then a second
crop was planted. Areas with good irrigation could even plant a third.
During harvest season Chinese-speaking traders
on motorbikes toured the villages and paid cash for opium. "You don't even
have to take the crop to market," said Eligh. "The market comes to
you."
POPPY
DEBTS
Moe Mohm, 48, a single mother of six daughters,
had borrowed 300,000 kyat ($350) from a Taunggyi moneylender to buy fertiliser
for her poppies, which were recently destroyed. "I just wanted to
cry," she said.
With her cash crop gone, Moe Mohm couldn't
repay the loan or even the interest on it -- a crushing 8 percent per month.
She had no way to grow rice until the rains came, and no cash to buy it.
"We know your need is great and more help is required," Lewis told
her. "We will act on it."
On the way back to Taunggyi, Eligh called a
colleague at the World Food Programme and an emergency supply of rice arrived
in Kyauk Ka Char less than three weeks later. More rice was bound for other
villages nearby.
The UNODC has three projects aimed at current
and former poppy-growers in Myanmar. Located in the Shan townships of Hopong
and Loilen, the projects offered a range of assistance: developing alternative
crops, improving the land with irrigation and fertilisers, providing
microfinance to landless households, setting up cash-for-work programmes,
vaccinating livestock, and building roads and clinics.
This is funded with $7 million from the
European Union, Germany and Japan. It was "barely enough" to help
10,000 of the 256,000 households involved in opium poppy production, Eligh
said.
When the poppy fields of War Taw, a village in
Loilen township, were destroyed, the UNODC gave people tools, seeds and
agricultural training. But this help was not enough to stop War Taw's young men
and women from leaving for Thailand, where an estimated 2 million Myanmar people
now work, most of them illegally.
With the poppies gone, that exodus could
accelerate. Nang Khae, a 49-year-old poppy-grower, reckoned about 60 villagers
-- a tenth of War Taw's population -- worked in Thailand. Her 29-year-old
daughter left for Bangkok five years ago to work as a maid and never returned.
Three months ago, her teenage son left too.
"It breaks our heart to watch them
go," said Nang Khae. "But we had to borrow money to buy food and
can't pay it back. That's why we send our children away."
TRADITIONAL
MEDICINE
Poppy eradication removes not just a cash crop
but, for many hill-tribes, a medicine. The villagers of Kaw Mong Pyin, an
isolated village in Eastern Shan State populated by ethnic Akha, regard opium
as a life-saving traditional remedy. "We've used it since our ancestors'
time," said Asan, 43, a poppy-grower who was raising 10 children and 20
oxen.
Asan's village felt untouched by modernity.
The women wore elaborate headdresses hung with coloured beads and silver coins
dating back to British colonial times. Pigs slumbered beneath wooden houses
with thatched roofs.
When his cattle got sick, said Asan, he fed
them a mixture of ginger, garlic, salt and opium. The villagers also baked
opium with garlic to treat their own diarrhoea, a life-threatening illness in
remote areas. Without opium, he said, the villagers would need basic medical
help for their families -- the nearest hospital was a five-hour walk away.
"We only use a little," said Asan. "Too much makes you
dizzy."
But another pressing health issue is opium
addiction, which is rife among hill-tribes such as the Akha. "Every time I
go home I start smoking again," said Abo, 49, a long-time opium smoker
being treated at a government clinic in the Shan town of Kengtung. "No
poppies are grown in my village, but opium is very easy to buy."
POPPY
PROLIFERATION
The weed-whackers destroy not just fully grown
poppy plants, but also a hard-to-spot second stage of seedlings which some
farmers plant between them. "This year's opium crop will be greatly
reduced because of these tools," said Police Colonel Win Naing, Shan
State's chief of police.
UNODC officials agreed, but cautioned that
eradication wasn't the only factor influencing the season's total production.
One was bad weather. In many parts of Shan
State, heavy rain had washed away poppy seeds or damaged young plants. This
alone might have halved the yield before eradication began.
Another factor was the total area under
cultivation, which had risen by at least 10 percent between 2011 and 2012,
estimated the UNODC. In other words, although more poppies had been destroyed,
more had also been planted.
A third factor became apparent outside Kyauk
Ka Char, where a poppy field the size of a soccer pitch lay strewn with stems.
These were felled in a recent operation but, as tell-tale marks on their bulbs
revealed, not before some of the opium was harvested.
This suggested that the ongoing eradication
campaign might not reduce the total yield by as much as the Myanmar authorities
had hoped.
The poppy-farmers of Kyauk Ka Char might have
received a tip-off. More likely, the police had simply arrived too late. Since
2006, China's National Narcotics Control Commission has given Myanmar satellite
maps to help locate and destroy poppy fields. But Shan State police said they
have gotten no other international assistance, and were hampered by lack of
personnel and equipment.
Many fields were so remote and well-hidden
that not even satellite maps were much help. "Sometimes, we have a map but
still can't find the field," said Sai Aung Kyaw Win, 39, a veteran UNODC
surveyor who spends months trekking through Myanmar's poppy-growing areas.
"We just walk around in circles."
INTERNATIONAL
ACCEPTANCE
Neighboring Thailand was proof that
alternative development worked, the UN's Eligh said, although it took more than
30 years and a billion dollars to halt large-scale poppy-growing there.
Thailand still produces about 5 tonnes of opium every year, despite dispatching
troops on regular poppy-eradication missions. This fact alone suggests that
Myanmar's bid to eradicate opium in just three years is fanciful.
But the target of 2014 was chosen for a
reason: that year, for the first time, Myanmar will mark its growing acceptance
by the international community by chairing the Association of Southeast Nations
(ASEAN), a position it was denied six years ago amid Western uproar over its
human rights record.
One potentially embarrassing UNODC survey map
showed dense poppy cultivation only a few hours' drive from Myanmar's capital
Naypyitaw, where ASEAN and world leaders will gather in 2014.
ASEAN has declared that its 10 member states
will be "drug free" by 2015, an equally fanciful target considering
the region's soaring use of methamphetamine.
Better known in its pill form as ya ba, it is
also manufactured in huge quantities in Shan State. When asked whether poppies
or pills were the bigger law-enforcement challenge, Pol Col Tin Maung Maung of
the CCDAC replied, "Both are a great problem for us."
Andrew R.C. Marshall
TAR PU VILLAGE, Shan State, Myanmar
(Editing by Bill Tarrant)
Reuters
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