I now know what it feels like for dissidents in Burma, when the authorities knock on the door late at night. In my case, I was treated civilly, but I know that if I had been Burmese it would have been far, far worse.
I had been in Burma a week, and had visited the country several times before. Having written a biography of the dictator, Than Shwe, accusing him of crimes against humanity, I was surprised to have made it back into the country, and was not surprised when the authorities caught me.
It happened at 11 p.m. on my last night in Rangoon. I had gone to the hotel bar to listen to some jazz before bed. I had been there barely five minutes when I was informed that the authorities wished to speak to me.
Six plainclothes military intelligence agents were standing outside my room.
I invited them in. I had already decided that I would answer their questions honestly, but not volunteer extra information. I would be cooperative, but not too cooperative. My top priority was to protect other people.
“Mr. Rogers, we have instructions from Naypyidaw to deport you tomorrow morning,” came the dreaded words. I had always known this was a strong possibility, but the words still make my heart sink.
I asked the reason. They told me they did not know, and were just following instructions. But during the course of the interrogation, one of them flicked through a file and I saw it contained a photocopy of the front cover of my book.
They checked my camera, and were frustrated that it only contained pictures of tourist sites. I had been scrupulously careful. They asked to copy my photos, and I asked why. “We have to show our superiors something,” one of them said.
At midnight they concluded the process, and told me to be ready at 7 a.m. They left, but five minutes later one man returned.
“I left my notebook,” he said. After searching for a while he found it in my suitcase. He must have put it in accidentally while putting my belongings back. It’s a pity he remembered — it could have been very interesting.
The following morning I was escorted to the airport by two men. They were polite. I asked again why I was being deported.
“We’ll tell you at the airport.”
At the airport I was met by a large group of officers. They photographed every step I made.
Two men sat down with me by the gate. “Mr. Rogers, after we left your hotel last night I was informed about the reason for your deportation,” one of them said. (Liar, I thought — I saw your file last night.) “I can now inform you. We know you have written several books about Myanmar, including “Than Shwe: Unmasking Burma’s Tyrant.” (At least he got the title right.) “These books, and your many articles, are misinformation about our country.”
I was determined not to go silently. I wanted them to know what I thought — but I also didn’t want to blame them personally. They were just doing their job — it was the system that was wrong.
“Is it a crime to write a book?” I asked. That flustered him. “In November, Myanmar held elections,” I continued. “So I thought Myanmar was becoming a democracy. In a democracy, it is very normal to write books freely, and very common to write books about leaders. Some books are positive, others are critical. But the fact that you are deporting me for writing a book suggests that Myanmar is not a democracy. So, can you tell me, is Myanmar becoming a democracy or not?”
He hesitated. “Myanmar will be a democracy one day, but slowly, slowly. We are in transition period.”
“I thought Myanmar was changing. But deporting a foreigner for writing a book suggests no change. So is that correct — no change?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, no change, no change.”
If there is no change, surely talk of lifting sanctions is ill-judged? Now is not the time to lift sanctions, not before there is meaningful change. Rather, it’s time for the world to get tougher, to target pressure more carefully, to provide aid for the people and to investigate Than Shwe’s crimes against humanity through a United Nations inquiry.
I asked if the man deports many foreigners. He smiled. “Yes, many.” I asked if he thought my deportation was fair. He said he had not read my book, so he could not comment. “Do you have a copy of your book with you?” he asked “I would be interested to read it.”
I laughed, and said I did not, but I offered to send it to him. He did not provide his address.
I asked him if he enjoyed working for a government that treats its people so badly, and if he knew that ethnic nationalities in Burma were particularly suffering under this regime. No response.
I asked what he thought about the events in Egypt, Tunisia and Libya. “I don’t like this kind of change,” he said. “I think it was created by Al Qaeda. Do you think so?”
No, I said, the movements in these countries were led by ordinary people who hate dictatorship.
“But democracy gives Al Qaeda opportunities,” he said.
I disagreed. “Democratic, open societies are a better way to challenge extremism and terrorism than dictatorship,” I said.
Then they told me I could board the plane. I reminded them that they had my passport, and they were confused over what to do. I said: “No passport, I stay in Myanmar, O.K.?” and we all laughed.
They shook my hand and said goodbye. “Thank you for treating me well,” I said. “I know that your government does not treat your own people well at all, but I am grateful that at least you treated me well.”
By Benedict Rogers, the East Asia team leader at Christian Solidarity Worldwide, an international human rights organization.