that the Karen would be rewarded with independence. One British civil serviceman had written in his appropriately titled The Loyal Karens of Burma that in the earlier days of British occupation, the Karen were “the staunchest and bravest defenders of British rule” and that without their “loyalty and courage ... the Queen’s government would, in all probability—for a time, at least—have ceased to exist.” In this world war, too, the British, by all accounts, could not have won Burma without the assistance of the minorities. Allied Karen killed at least 12,500 Japanese troops in Burma in just the last months of the war. 9
In early 1945, another—most unexpected—group joined the British offensive against Japan: the Burmans. The Japanese were not going to win, and had made it clear that they had no intention of relinquishing power even if they did. The Burmans had bet on the wrong horse, and they knew it. Led by Aung San, a prominent member of the Thirty Comrades and the Burmese minister for war under the Japanese, the nationalists switched sides just months before the Japanese surrendered, just in time to demand British independence as their reward.
Postwar, the British on the ground laid out a nice, sensible plan for rebuilding Burma. The country was in ruins, everything from its economy to its roads to its rice paddies. The governor aimed to slowly prepare the nation for self-government under overarching British rule—after the necessary reconstructions. Moderation, though, was not an option for Aung San. No would-be Burmese leader could survive a call for eventual independence. Anyone with hopes of ever being in charge had no choice but to demand independence right now. Politicians 5,500 miles away were on board with that, anyway; the Labour Party had won Britain’s election and was dropping colonialism like hot to the floor. Some Conservatives wanted to stick around and oversee Burma’s transition to independence, but England had way bigger problems—like Gandhi, and rebuilding London—and the Empire was being hastily dismantled. Now Britain didn’t even want to do anything but comply with Aung San’s demands.
But the nationalists weren’t the only ones making demands. For the Karen—being traitors to their country and all—total and permanent annexation to British India may have been the best possible scenario. Short of becoming British subjects, they needed their old allies to make their autonomy a nonnegotiable condition of an independent Burma, as they’d been promised. A Karen group of representatives went to England to cash in on that pledge. By that time, though, His Majesty’s Government didn’t in fact have the means to make good on it. The British weren’t going to risk Aung San’s inciting
a nationwide revolt over negotiations about hill tribes that likely lacked the political and military clout to maintain independent states anyhow. The prime minister received the Karen delegates, couldn’t offer them what they came for, and sent them on a tour of a local soap factory. The minorities had been sold out. Literally: In lieu of liberty, they were given some money.
“All loyalties have been discarded and rebuffed; all faithful service has been forgotten and brushed aside,” wailed Winston Churchill. “We stand on the threshold of another scene of misery and ruin.” He condemned his opponents in Parliament, that the abandonment “should ever haunt the consciences of the principal actors in this tragedy.” Whatever. Churchill wasn’t in charge anymore. The agreement his successor signed with Aung San promised ultraquick independence and included a provision expressing hopes that the hill peoples would cooperate with unification.
At least Aung San was unification’s best chance. He knew the Karen were both armed and suspicious, and he seemed genuinely, if a little unpopularly, interested in a union of autonomous nation-states. He proffered peace with the Karen after the Burma
In early 1945, another—most unexpected—group joined the British offensive against Japan: the Burmans. The Japanese were not going to win, and had made it clear that they had no intention of relinquishing power even if they did. The Burmans had bet on the wrong horse, and they knew it. Led by Aung San, a prominent member of the Thirty Comrades and the Burmese minister for war under the Japanese, the nationalists switched sides just months before the Japanese surrendered, just in time to demand British independence as their reward.
Postwar, the British on the ground laid out a nice, sensible plan for rebuilding Burma. The country was in ruins, everything from its economy to its roads to its rice paddies. The governor aimed to slowly prepare the nation for self-government under overarching British rule—after the necessary reconstructions. Moderation, though, was not an option for Aung San. No would-be Burmese leader could survive a call for eventual independence. Anyone with hopes of ever being in charge had no choice but to demand independence right now. Politicians 5,500 miles away were on board with that, anyway; the Labour Party had won Britain’s election and was dropping colonialism like hot to the floor. Some Conservatives wanted to stick around and oversee Burma’s transition to independence, but England had way bigger problems—like Gandhi, and rebuilding London—and the Empire was being hastily dismantled. Now Britain didn’t even want to do anything but comply with Aung San’s demands.
But the nationalists weren’t the only ones making demands. For the Karen—being traitors to their country and all—total and permanent annexation to British India may have been the best possible scenario. Short of becoming British subjects, they needed their old allies to make their autonomy a nonnegotiable condition of an independent Burma, as they’d been promised. A Karen group of representatives went to England to cash in on that pledge. By that time, though, His Majesty’s Government didn’t in fact have the means to make good on it. The British weren’t going to risk Aung San’s inciting
a nationwide revolt over negotiations about hill tribes that likely lacked the political and military clout to maintain independent states anyhow. The prime minister received the Karen delegates, couldn’t offer them what they came for, and sent them on a tour of a local soap factory. The minorities had been sold out. Literally: In lieu of liberty, they were given some money.
“All loyalties have been discarded and rebuffed; all faithful service has been forgotten and brushed aside,” wailed Winston Churchill. “We stand on the threshold of another scene of misery and ruin.” He condemned his opponents in Parliament, that the abandonment “should ever haunt the consciences of the principal actors in this tragedy.” Whatever. Churchill wasn’t in charge anymore. The agreement his successor signed with Aung San promised ultraquick independence and included a provision expressing hopes that the hill peoples would cooperate with unification.
At least Aung San was unification’s best chance. He knew the Karen were both armed and suspicious, and he seemed genuinely, if a little unpopularly, interested in a union of autonomous nation-states. He proffered peace with the Karen after the Burma
Similar Books
