By Shashank Bengali-Contact Reporter
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| A man carrying a portrait of Ko Ni clears a way for the arrival of the slain lawyer's grandson in Yangon, Myanmar, in January. (Thein Zaw / Associated Press) (Thein Zaw / Associated Press) |
No one seemed to notice as a man in shorts and sandals
sidled up behind Ko Ni, drew a 9-millimeter pistol inches from his head and
pulled the trigger.
The fatal shooting not only silenced one of Myanmar’s
most prominent legal experts, it exposed the dangers lurking below the surface
of this former military dictatorship’s fitful transition to democracy.
In the old Myanmar — previously known as Burma and ruled
by a junta for a half-century — political activists routinely disappeared into
prisons or died in murky circumstances. Then in 2010, the military began ceding
authority to civilians.
Pro-democracy icon Aung San Suu Kyi’s party won a
parliamentary majority in 2015 elections, and last October the Obama
administration lifted economic sanctions, formalizing Myanmar’s reentry into
the global community.
But the military establishment still wields immense clout
in this Southeast Asian nation of 53 million, authority enshrined in the
constitution it passed in 2008 shortly before initiating reforms.
Ko Ni had spent the last several years drafting a new
constitution that would have unwound many of the army’s powers, and his killing
in January has shaken civil society leaders who see it as a warning to reformers.
“Those who did this did not tolerate progress,” said Myo
Win, a Muslim activist who heads the Smile Education and Development
Foundation, a nonprofit group in Yangon. “Of course, the rest of us are
worried.”
Authorities say the assassination was a plot by three
former military officers who hired an ex-convict to carry it out. The gunman
and two other suspects have been arrested while the third, a retired army
lieutenant colonel, remains at large.
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| Ko Ni, shown in 2013, was a prominent advocate for Muslim rights and for reforming Myanmar's constitution. (Hong Sar / AFP/ Getty Images) (Hong Sar / AFP/ Getty Images) |
Ko Ni’s grandson survived the shooting, but the gunman
also killed a taxi driver who pursued him.
The home affairs minister, Lt. Gen. Kyaw Swe, said the
suspects were motivated by “extreme patriotism” and angered by posts Ko Ni had
written on social media. He did not specify the writings. But few figures
represented a greater challenge to Myanmar’s establishment than the 63-year-old
Ko Ni.
Besides advising Suu Kyi’s National League of Democracy
party and defending the rights of his fellow Muslims in a Buddhist-dominated
country, he was, behind the scenes, pushing a bold gambit to abolish the
army-written constitution.
The document gives the army control of the entire civil
service, and Ko Ni had told friends that as long as that provision remained in
place, “the military is basically still running the country,” said Bertil
Lintner, an author and commentator who has worked on Myanmar since the 1980s.
The army effectively holds veto power over any
constitutional changes because a three-quarters majority in parliament is
required to pass amendments, and one-quarter of seats are reserved for the
military. Ko Ni thought he had found an opening: Scrap the constitution with a
simply majority vote in parliament.
“There is nothing in the 2008 constitution that says it
can’t be abolished with a single vote,” said Lintner, a longtime friend. “He
was a constitutional expert, and very good at finding loopholes."
He had already devised the strategy that allowed Suu Kyi
— the country’s most popular political figure — to lead the government after
the 2015 elections. Sidestepping a constitutional provision that barred her
from becoming president because her late husband had foreign citizenship, Ko
Ni’s solution was to create the powerful post of state counselor, which sits
above the president.
But Suu Kyi thought Ko Ni’s plan to do away with the
constitution was “too provocative,” Lintner said. Although party officials said
they remained committed to constitutional reform, many experts believe Ko Ni
was uniquely qualified to lead the effort.
“With the loss of its chief technician and advocate, the
constitutional reform process will almost certainly be stalled,” said Richard
Weir, a fellow with the Asia division of Human Rights Watch.
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| Myanmar State Counselor Aung San Suu Kyi arrives at a memorial ceremony in February for Ko Ni, a prominent legal advisor to her government, and taxi driver Ne Win. (Thein Zaw / Associated Press) (Thein Zaw / Associated Press) |
Ko Ni often discussed his ideas in public forums and with
journalists, including foreign reporters with whom he spoke in English. Last September,
he confided in activist Myo Win that he felt threatened.
“Someone close to the military came and told him that he
was their second-biggest enemy after Shwe Mann,” Myo Win said, referring to the
former head of the military-backed Union Solidarity and Development Party who
was ousted in 2015 for pushing constitutional reforms.
The following month, when Ko Ni spoke at a conference in
the northeast city of Lashio, the audience of 200 or so attendees was joined by
about 10 plainclothes officers from military intelligence.
“They always knew where he was,” Myo Win said.
But Ko Ni kept his fears from his family. His son Thant
Zin Oo, a 29-year-old software engineer in Singapore, noticed the abuses hurled
at him on social media sites but thought they were harmless.
“He did not mention anything that could cause us any
concern, although there was online harassment constantly,” his son said.
Some of the vitriol he faced derived from Ko Ni’s faith.
Muslims, who account for fewer than 5% of Myanmar’s population, have often been
targeted by a surging Buddhist nationalism — particularly in western Rakhine
state, where members of the Rohingya ethnic group are denied citizenship and
have been systematically persecuted.
Ko Ni was not Rohingya but spoke out about the injustices
faced by the group. He also criticized his own party for failing to field any
Muslim candidates in the 2015 elections, an apparent effort to placate Buddhist
extremists.
“I can think of many Muslim lawyers in Myanmar who very
deliberately keep a much lower profile,” said Melissa Crouch, a senior lecturer
at the University of New South Wales law school in Sydney, Australia, and an
expert on Myanmar’s constitution. “He stood out.”
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| Mya Aye, a Muslim activist, said the climate for dissidents in Myanmar is "getting worse." (Shashank Bengali / Los Angeles Times) (Shashank Bengali / Los Angeles Times)caption |
But over the last year, Crouch said, Ko Ni had come to
believe that space for free speech was narrowing. Last November, when she
invited him to speak in Yangon on a panel about constitutional issues — the
type of event he usually welcomed — he refused.
“In Myanmar there are invisible lines and you never quite
know when you’re going to step on them,” Crouch said. “And now that message has
been very clearly understood.”
The day he was killed, he was returning from Indonesia,
where he had traveled as part of a government delegation to share experiences
of political reconciliation. Mya Aye, a Muslim activist who was part of the
delegation, said Ko Ni had openly discussed the need for political reforms.
Both men had been targets of extremists before. In 2014,
the National League of Democracy party had to cancel a public event after
Buddhist monks protested the inclusion of the two men because they were Muslim.
“It’s never been safe for political activists in
Myanmar,” Mya Aye said, “and now it is getting worse.”
Suu Kyi’s government has offered a mixed response to the
assassination. The morning after his death, which made headlines worldwide, the
state-run Global New Light of Myanmar newspaper ran the story on its inside
pages. Suu Kyi waited one month before making a public statement, calling Ko
Ni’s death a “deep loss” but stopping short of a full-throated appeal for justice.
Allies said she has been careful to avoid antagonizing
military generals to maintain a working relationship — and because she might
fear for her own safety.
“It seems she can’t do much,” Mya Aye said. “She might be
thinking that to be vocal would cause unnecessary problems. But she needs to
speak out for justice.”
Whether a plot to kill Ko Ni reached higher into the
military establishment may never be known. Activists have already criticized
the conduct of the investigation.
The police and army, which are running the probe
together, waited three weeks to hold their first news conference. The home
minister, Kyaw Swe, also raised eyebrows when he suggested without elaborating
that Ko Ni’s “community” — a veiled reference to Muslims — might have killed
him.
Ko Ni’s relatives say they won’t judge the investigation
until it is over. Asked whether those responsible for his father’s killing
would see justice, Thant Zin Oo said, “We have hope.”