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Correspondent

21 August 2024 at 3:50:16 pm

Convenient Outrage

There is something almost Shakespearean about Elon Musk’s indignation when the world refuses to bend to his will. The richest man in the world, accustomed to treating governments as inconveniences and public discourse as his personal broadcasting channel, has discovered the virtues of sovereign prerogative. Musk’s complaint that Starlink is licensed in more than 165 countries and has spent five years complying with every requirement of the Indian government, yet remains without a licence, is...

Convenient Outrage

There is something almost Shakespearean about Elon Musk’s indignation when the world refuses to bend to his will. The richest man in the world, accustomed to treating governments as inconveniences and public discourse as his personal broadcasting channel, has discovered the virtues of sovereign prerogative. Musk’s complaint that Starlink is licensed in more than 165 countries and has spent five years complying with every requirement of the Indian government, yet remains without a licence, is a grand tutorial in selective outrage. His insinuation that Mukesh Ambani is the real boss of India smacks of theatrical petulance. The question here is why should India compromise its security requirements simply because the applicant happens to be the world’s most conspicuous billionaire? The fact is even OneWeb and Jio Satellite Communications are awaiting outstanding regulatory steps. The government has plainly said the process is being applied uniformly. In fact, Starlink has received an initial licence, but is awaiting further approvals, including security clearance, before launching commercial services in India. The security question goes far beyond the familiar contest between foreign technology and domestic business. It concerns the extraordinary power that a private individual can exercise over communications infrastructure on which governments, armed forces and entire populations may come to depend. A Reuters investigation in July last year had reported that Musk had ordered Starlink coverage switched off in parts of the country during a Ukrainian counteroffensive in September 2022. The resulting disruption had affected military communications and operations. Imagine the strategic implications for India. In a military confrontation with China, particularly along the sensitive frontier in Ladakh, communications are integral to command, coordination and operational resilience. Would India want critical military communications to depend on a network whose availability could be affected by decisions made by a private individual outside its jurisdiction? National security cannot rest on the assumption that a powerful businessman will always make decisions in accordance with another country’s strategic interests. Access to technology must be accompanied by enforceable safeguards, credible contingency arrangements and clear limits on foreign control over critical communications. The hypocrisy becomes more conspicuous when one considers Musk’s own commercial interests. Chinese electric-vehicle maker BYD sells cars across numerous international markets but faces formidable barriers in the United States, where Tesla is a major domestic competitor. Washington has imposed substantial restrictions and tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles, invoking concerns about industrial competition, security and dependence on Chinese supply chains. Does Musk denounce every American restriction on Chinese technology as an assault on free enterprise? National sovereignty cannot be invoked as a sacred right in Washington and dismissed as protectionism in New Delhi. It is time Musk realizes that the free market is not a royal court, and its most successful tycoon is not entitled to dictate terms to every sovereign state.

A Managed Vote in a Divided Myanmar

Dec 28, 2025
3 min read

Myanmar’s election is less a step toward democracy than an attempt to legitimise military rule amid a raging civil war.

Myanmar is launching a three-phase general election billed by the ruling generals as a return to multi-party democracy. In reality, the vote comes amid civil war, mass displacement, and military control over barely a fifth of the country.


Myanmar’s crisis began in February 2021, when the army, or Tatmadaw, overturned Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy victory in the 2020 polls and seized power, citing electoral fraud. The coup ended a decade of hybrid civilian–military rule under the 2008 constitution and sparked mass protests that soon turned into armed resistance.


In response, ousted lawmakers and activists formed a parallel National Unity Government aligned with ethnic armed groups and new People’s Defence Forces. They now control or contest large areas, leaving the junta dominant mainly in central plains and major cities, while the civil war has killed thousands and displaced millions.


Myanmar’s electoral system is designed to favour the military and its allies. Under the 2008 constitution, the armed forces reserve 25 per cent of parliamentary seats, reinforced by the Union Solidarity and Development Party and smaller allied groups. The NLD has been dismantled through arrests and bans, while new laws criminalise election “disruption”, with penalties ranging from long prison terms to death.


The junta’s strategy is threefold. A managed election offers a façade of constitutional rule to blunt sanctions and attract regional engagement. Phased voting allows security forces to concentrate, fragment opposition, and adjust tactics if challengers perform well. By holding polls amid civil war, the generals seek to signal permanence, compelling the world to treat them as Myanmar’s entrenched authority.


High Stakes

On one side stand the SAC leadership under Senior General Min Aung Hlaing, the USDP, and allied parties and local elites tied to the existing order. For them, the election is not a contest but a tool to consolidate power, renew legitimacy, and entrench military dominance through a loyalist parliament.


On the other side are forces that cannot or will not participate. The NUG has rejected the polls as illegitimate and seeks international recognition, while many EAOs and PDFs see the election as a threat to their territorial gains and vow to disrupt it. Some ethnic groups that once held ceasefires with the Tatmadaw are now fighting alongside former rivals against a common enemy.


Smaller parties and civilians caught between the warring sides face intimidation, exclusion and the risk of being branded collaborators.


Civil War Landscape

More than three million people have been displaced since the coup. Fighting is fiercest in the north and west, where the Kachin Independence Army, Chin National Front, and Arakan Army have gained ground, and in the southeast, where Karen and Mon forces challenge junta control.


The SAC has concentrated forces around cities and key economic corridors, leaving vast rural areas under resistance control. As a result, even if voting goes ahead in first-phase townships, large populations will be excluded, producing a parliament that reflects only the junta’s zone of control.


Myanmar’s crisis has become a stage for great-power rivalry and a test of regional diplomacy. China and Russia back the junta with diplomatic cover, arms, and economic lifelines, seeing the SAC as a partner in infrastructure and resources. China prioritises border stability and the China-Myanmar Economic Corridor, while Russia views Myanmar as a weapons market and a supportive UN vote.


India’s stance is more nuanced. It has voiced concern over violence and refugee flows into the northeast but has avoided endorsing the NUG, fearing a collapse of central authority could empower frontier insurgents and expand Chinese influence. Its engagement remains cautious, centred on humanitarian aid, border security, and channels with both the junta and ethnic actors.ASEAN remains divided. The five-point consensus agreed upon in April 2021 has largely been ignored by the SAC, with members split between calls for tougher action and advocacy of quiet engagement. 


The most likely outcome is a USDP-dominated parliament, reinforced by military appointees, that rubber-stamps junta policies under a veneer of constitutional continuity. Turnout will be low in contested areas, with the NUG and its allies denouncing the vote as a sham. Violence may intensify as resistance groups seek to disrupt polling, triggering further crackdowns and displacement.Internationally, the election will test Western resolve, which has faltered despite sanctions, and expose whether ASEAN can sustain a common stance or splinter further. For India, the result will shape border security calculations and its rivalry with China along Myanmar’s resource-rich frontiers.


Over the longer term, the vote is unlikely to end the war. Instead, it risks entrenching a de facto partition, with the junta ruling a shrinking core and resistance forces controlling the periphery—prolonging instability, humanitarian suffering, and regional tensions while leaving Myanmar’s democratic aspirations unmet.


(The writer is a foreign affairs expert. Views personal.)

 

 


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