Burmese Politician Woos the Masses
Daughter of nation's hero on the stump organizing opposition party to support democracy. AUNG SAN SUU KYI
BURMA's leading opposition politician stands in the back of a pickup truck. With one hand she holds a tiger orchid in her hair. With the other other she waves to the crowd. Peasants line the dusty road out of Mandalay, eager to catch a glimpse of this charismatic woman, Aung San Suu Kyi, who dares to oppose a repressive junta.Skip to next paragraph
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They throw garlands around her neck as she travels down yet another bumpy road in her campaign to restore democracy - and perhaps to run their country.
``Long live Aung San Suu Kyi,'' the peasants chant. If they chant anything political, they risk Army arrest for violating campaign laws.
Political gatherings of more than 50 people are outlawed. Troops trail her entourage, watching for the slightest infraction. Harassment is common. Foreign journalists are stopped for questioning.
Supporters in her party, the National League of Democracy, pass out buttons showing a photo of her late father, Aung San, the national hero and the man who led Burma to independence before he was assassinated in 1947. The photographs include a small image of his daughter perched on the famed leader's shoulder.
But despite this political hoopla, Suu Kyi has not yet committed her party to running in the election.
At present, she says, the task is building and organizing the party to support democracy.
Even though there is a ban on political pamphlets, campaign workers hand out copies of her speeches, which call for an end to 27 years of Army rule and for fulfilling the Army's promise - following a bloody uprising last year - to hold fair elections in early 1990.
But both buttons and speeches are not enough to reach enough people quickly. The most potent tactic used during her six months on the hustings is a video camera, carried by an inconspicuous aide.
After capturing her public moves and words each day, the video tapes are copied and recopied, spreading her message into the farthest corners of Burma.
``Campaigning is expensive, and we have no money,'' says Suu Kyi, who spent most of the last two decades outside of Burma and is thus relatively unknown - except for her name.
To quickly exploit that tie, she employs an inexpensive solution: the modern technology of Japanese-made videos, ready-made to undermine the political monopoly of an authoritarian regime.
The tapes are hot sellers on Burma's well-run black market, and a challenge to the military that tightly restricts information flow in a nation of approximately 40 million people.
The regime, which bans anything but its own message on the country's only television broadcast, announced a crackdown last month on regulated video stores.
Many stores carry the tapes showing Aung San Suu Kyi, but must do so clandestinely. Demand is high. Customers are willingly to pay an amount equal to three or four days of an average daily wage. Some of the tapes include excerpts from last year's violence in Rangoon.
In a nation already fearful and divided over how to end Army rule, the tapes add to personal conflicts.
``My father won't let me bring the tape home,'' says government worker Sun Yu Din.
Her father, a retired Army colonel, is a timber exporter. He forbids any mention of Aung Suu Kyi's name in his house.
``All over Burma, families are arguing with each other,'' says Sun Yu Din. ``We now say there is one house, two bodies.''
In more ways than one, the video tapes are an affront to the Army, which itself appears divided over whether to allow a fair election to take place.