As conflict consumes much of Myanmar, its cities also struggle on three years after the coup

At first glance, the hustle and bustle of Yangon makes it look like any other busy city in Southeast Asia. On weekdays, the streets are packed with rush-hour crowds, while on weekends and holidays, throngs flock to the city’s public areas to unwind. When night falls, the downtown core is as vibrant as ever. Sule Pagoda, near Yangon City Hall, is colourfully illuminated, while the food stalls of Chinatown in Latha Township still do a thriving business. On 19th Street, the cheap beer bars and barbecue joints are full of customers. In one noisy pub, three young women gathered recently for a farewell party. One of them, 30-year-old single mother Su Su, had resigned from her job as assistant manager and was preparing to leave for Japan to start a new career in the service sector. “I’m here to say goodbye to my friends,” she said. “I don’t want to go overseas, but I need a more stable income to support my daughter. There’s no hope for me here.” It’s a common refrain among young people in post-coup Yangon. Three years after Myanmar’s military seized power, the hopes and dreams of the previous decade have given way to a very different mood belied by the outward vitality of the city. While Yangon seems a world away from the reality of the civil war that has gripped much of the country, no one here is in any doubt about the disastrous impact of the February 2021 military takeover. Memories of the military’s brutal response to massive anti-coup protests remain fresh in many minds, and the steady decline in people’s economic prospects since then continues to rub salt into those still open wounds. Fear and poverty loom over city dwellers from all walks of life in Yangon. One young man from Kamayut Township, who refused to share his name out of concern for his safety, told Myanmar Now that the city has become a mere shadow of itself. “There’s a lot I could say about the situation here now. We’re facing a lot of challenges—from rising prices to the shrinking job market due to the declining economy. There are fuel shortages and the cost of medicine is soaring. And on top of all that, we live in constant fear of the military,” he said. A crowd waits outside Yangon’s passport office These conditions have prompted many to seek a way out by going overseas—including some who have returned since the coup only to find things far worse than they expected. “I wanted to start my own business here, but the situation in Yangon is just too unpredictable. Power cuts and the lack of safety are my biggest concerns,” said one 27-year-old man from Dagon Township who spent four years abroad before coming back to try his luck in his own country. He added that it wasn’t just the risks of staying in Yangon or the poor economic conditions that made him rethink his decision. “The main thing is, I don’t want to have anything to do with junta administrators, which I would have to do to start my own business here. So I’ve decided to go back overseas,” he explained. In December, the World Bank identified Myanmar as the only country in East Asia where the economy had not rebounded to its pre-pandemic level. It also forecast that its economic slowdown would continue through this year and next, particularly in agriculture, manufacturing, trade and other productive sectors, resulting in a 10 percent decline in the size of its economy compared with 2019. Hardship and lawlessness Meanwhile, life has already gotten much harder for ordinary families, as the price of food, fuel, and other basic necessities continues to climb. “Everything’s getting pricier, but my income has been the same for the past three years. Due to our tight budget, I can’t even treat my son to his favourite home-made dessert on a regular basis. Every penny I earn is used to cover daily food expenses,” said a working mother living in Yangon’s Insein Township. She is not alone. A large segment of Yangon’s population lives on a daily wage that often falls far short of the cost of living. In South Dagon Township, a motorcycle sidecar driver complains that on many days, he can barely make the 15,000 kyat (roughly US$4.50) that he needs to cover his expenses and feed his family. “I have to pay at least 3,000 kyat a day to the owner of the bike. The rest is for fuel and our daily food expenses. We’re just scraping by,” he said. Many poor families subsist by buying rice and cooking oil from retail shops under the licence of the Myanmar Rice Federation and the Myanmar Edible Oil Dealers Association, which offer a 10 percent discount compared to other outlets. Long queues form outside these shops, which sell only a limited amount each day. Adding to the insecurity that many people feel is the growing sense of lawlessness, as theft and other crimes become everyday occurrences. “I always make sure to hold my mobile phone tightly when I’m on the bus. And if I’m late coming home from work, I ask at least one member of my family to wait for me at the bus stop. It’s not safe to go home alone, even for a man,” said one woman, describing the breakdown in law and order since the military coup. But it is the military itself that remains the greatest threat to Yangon residents anxious about their safety and well-being. Junta officials routinely conduct searches based on tip-offs from informants, and extortion is a basic fact of life. On Myanmar’s Independence Day, for instance, motorists were ordered to fly the national flag on their vehicles. Those who failed to do so were expected to pay a hefty price. “We were forced to pay a fine of at least 50,000 kyat if we didn’t show the flag, and they [junta soldiers] would also beat us,” said a motorcycle sidecar driver in his late 50s from North Dagon Township. Yangon during a power outage (EPA/EFE) While midnight raids—a regular feature of life in Yangon in the first year after the coup—are less common now, the city still feels like it is under siege in many ways. Military vehicles frequently pass through certain downtown neighbourhoods, and police stations and junta administrative offices have been fortified, as if bracing for full-blown urban warfare. But even as curfews remain in place in some of Yangon’s urban townships, karaoke clubs and other nightspots have proliferated in many areas, as young people look to distract themselves from the realities of life under military rule. “Even in suburban areas, the number of bars has mushroomed on both sides of the main roads,” said Ko Aung, a 31-year-old resident of North Dagon, adding that many of these establishments also serve as places to purchase cheap and plentiful party drugs like E (Ecstasy) and K (Ketamine). But while some Yangon residents, burdened by their hardships, appear to have lost sight of the country’s struggle to end military rule, others remain committed to supporting this goal in one way or another. “So many have lost their homes and everything they own due to junta bombardment and arson attacks in conflict areas. My heart really goes out to those people. That’s why I always reach out to volunteer groups to offer donations and support their work,” said a woman in her 30s living in Tamwe Township. While there are few visible signs of resistance in Yangon these days, the city was a major epicentre of protests in the months after the coup. According to the Assistance Association for Political Prisoners, a monitor group that has tracked the regime’s killing of civilians, at least 171 protesters were killed in Yangon and the surrounding area during those protests, prompting many living in the city to flee to border areas to join the armed resistance movement. Medical crisis in Mandalay Myanmar’s second-largest city, Mandalay, faces many of the same challenges as those affecting life in Yangon. In some ways, however, it is even worse off than the country’s commercial capital. One issue in particular is especially pressing: the extreme strain on the city’s healthcare system. Three years after the coup, Mandalay General Hospital is struggling to cope with a heavy influx of patients, power outages, and a lack of basic medical supplies, according to some who work there. Since late 2022, the junta-administered hospital—which was almost silent until then due to the Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM), which saw thousands of public servants, including medical professionals, refuse to work for the regime—has witnessed a surge in patients, according to one Mandalay nurse. “Every ward of the hospital has been overwhelmed,” she said, adding that most of those receiving care there are not from the city itself, but from rural areas, where gunshot wounds and shrapnel and landmine injuries have maimed many. The reason most have flocked to Mandalay General Hospital over the past year is that the regime forcibly shut down at least five private hospitals in Mandalay in December 2022 for hiring CDM medical staff. Other clinics and healthcare providers also met the same fate in 2023, according to Mandalay residents. “People from underprivileged families have no choice but to rely mainly on the junta’s healthcare system due to the closure of private hospitals and the lower medical expense,” said the nurse who spoke to Myanmar Now. But the quality of care at public hospitals has deteriorated steadily, according to Mandalay residents, as both medicine and medical equipment have become increasingly scarce under the current regime. Pro-democracy protesters stage a rally in front of Mandalay’s Zay Cho Market in 2021 Like Yangon, Mandalay also struggles with a growing drug problem of a different kind—the ready availability of illicit substances in almost every neighbourhood of the city. Coupled with this, there is also a growing problem with gambling, often driven by a desire to supplement meagre incomes. “There are a lot more women gambling these days. Many are housewives hoping to make extra money to cover their food expenses. Online gambling has also become popular recently,” said one Mandalay native. While gambling and other illegal activities have always been a part of life in Mandalay, they have become more common than ever since the coup, and far more open, according to one man familiar with the situation. “The junta cracks down harshly on anti-regime activists, but turns a blind eye to illegal gambling and drug dealing because those engaged in these activities just pay off officials. Sometimes, if there’s a complaint, they’ll make a few arrests, but these cases are usually settled through negotiations and payoffs,” he said. In Maha Aungmyay Township, in the city’s downtown core, other crimes are also on the rise. Business owners operating in the area say they have seen an alarming increase in robbery and violent crimes over the past three years, as gangs target shops already struggling to survive under the current economic conditions. Meanwhile, real estate is the one sector of the economy that has boomed in the city in recent years. According to residents, rent prices have soared, especially since late 2022, as the relative stability of Mandalay has made it a magnet for people displaced from conflict-torn areas. But as Mandalay becomes a refuge for some, it has also become a place that many others have had to flee. Long famous as a centre of Buddhism, the city is home to Myanmar’s largest population of monks. In the wake of the coup, many took part in protests, making them targets of harsh crackdowns by the regime. According to the Mandalay Sangha Union, at least 120 monks have been imprisoned, while another 100 have fled their monasteries to escape from regime oppression. “Some monks simply returned to their hometowns, while others had to run for their lives. Some even disrobed and took up arms,” a spokesperson for the monastic association told Myanmar Now. Suffocating in Naypyitaw Naypyitaw, the junta’s administrative capital, is in some ways sheltered from the problems that have afflicted other cities in Myanmar since the coup. Home to the highest echelons of the military, it has no shortage of electricity, and is not the sort of place that victims of conflict would flock to for safety. But not everyone living there is military brass, and for those who have to earn a living, the situation in Naypyitaw is as bad as in any other city in the country. U Thaung, a 40-year-old motorcycle taxi driver, laments that he has seen his earnings plummet compared to what he used to make when Naypyitaw was teeming with visitors, including businesspeople, international diplomats, and politicians from around the country serving in the Hluttaw, or parliament. “It’s been a trying time for us due to soaring prices, dwindling income, rising fuel costs, and a lack of visitors,” he said, noting that municipal guest houses that served as residences for lawmakers staying in the capital for extended periods of time have been mostly vacant since the coup. Other accommodations catering to the usual array of visitors have also seen a steep decline in occupancy rates. Some, like the Hotel Max operated by junta crony Zaw Zaw’s Max Myanmar Group, have opened bars and started throwing DJ parties in a bid to boost their revenue, according to locals. The Tha Pyay Kone roundabout in Naypyitaw at night (Myanmar Now) Attractions aimed mainly at domestic tourists, such as the Naypyitaw Water Fountain Garden, National Landmark Garden, Naypyitaw Zoo, and various pagodas, have reportedly seen little traffic in recent years due to the tense atmosphere in the city. “No one wants to come to Naypyitaw due to the tight security measures,” said U Thaung. Roads leading to the parliament buildings and government offices are especially tightly controlled, with barricades and bunkers manned by soldiers in full combat gear a common sight. CCTV cameras can also be seen almost everywhere you go in the city. Residents say they are frequently stopped by traffic police or soldiers when riding motorcycles—ostensibly to check for their licences, but actually to extort money. Despite being free of fighting, Naypyitaw feels far from secure. “Many people think it’s the safest place in the country, but for me, it’s suffocating. Fear overwhelms me every time I come across soldiers in combat gear,” said one 27-year-old man. While it remains a city of privilege, with its 24-hour power supply and uninterrupted telecommunications access, Naypyitaw is increasingly divided between the very rich and the very poor, according to U Thaung.“The rich have run out of places to stash their money, while the poor are struggling just to fill their stomachs from day to day,” he said. Three years after seizing power, then, the military finds itself presiding over a country that is falling ever deeper into despair, with a population that is buoyed only by the hope that someday soon, its rulers will also know how it feels to be defeated by forces beyond their control.

As conflict consumes much of Myanmar, its cities also struggle on three years after the coup

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