By Razali Ismail
Former UN Special Envoy Razali Ismail sought to negotiate between the opposition party and the military regime from 2000 until 2005. He recalls his meetings with Burma’s most famous prisoner, Aung San Suu Kyi.
In early 2006, I resigned as the United Nations Secretary General’s Special Envoy to Myanmar [Burma]. By that time, I had been to Myanmar 14 times, stretched out over a period of four years. The first visit was in 2000 when the United Nations sent me there with a delegation on my first mission. It was then that I met Aung San Suu Kyi and the Myanmar Secretary One, Lt-Gen Khin Nyunt. It was he who arranged for me to see her. It was the middle of June, the monsoon period, and very hot and humid.
I was taken in a government car to University Avenue where Suu Kyi stayed. We waited in a room on whose wall hung a huge painting of Suu Kyi’s late father. I was aware of the significance of the moment as I sat there. I knew that something very special was about to impact on my life. After a period of waiting she emerged, cool and composed, in a traditional blue blouse and sarong, with bunga melor (jasmine flower) in her hair. Call it a grand entrance, if you like. She was polite and dignified, placing me on her right as she sat with me on a semicircular settee, her back ramrod straight. It was one of those settees without backs, the kind that tends to make one slouch if one is not careful, and it made me painfully aware of my own posture, sitting beside her with her back straight as a dancer.
Subconsciously, I felt obliged to match her posture, losing the battle, however, and slouching as the discussion went on. There was no question about it —she looked very attractive, what with the scent of the melor in the air at close quarters. At an early part of my conversation with her, I said, “You are not only courageous but also attractive.” It was obviously an unthinkable faux pas. But despite what I had heard and read about her from reports and earlier encounters between her and a UN representative (I was forewarned that she was glacial), we got along very well from the start. It helped that I was clearly open, held no preconceived ideas and did not make judgments on her. By the end of a two-hour chat, during which time she did not bend at all (perhaps symbolic of her uprightness in terms of her principles), a basis for an ongoing relationship had already developed.
From the beginning, Suu Kyi was interested in understanding how far the UN would go in helping her and the NLD [National League for Democracy] and how far Asean was willing to stick its neck out. On Asean, her basic instincts can be said to have been proven right. Asean has been neither here nor there in its interest and commitments. Constructive engagement was never really constructive, and there was no sustained engagement. As for the UN, I went beyond my brief in order to open up the issues for us to re-examine together. She believed wholeheartedly in the rule of law and hoped that the UN would equally commit to that in helping Myanmar. In that sense, the UN has done less than deliver.
In most cases, I had two meetings with her per visit—once after seeing the government and hearing their views and once again after speaking with the government. What did we talk about? Our discussions covered, obviously, issues of reconciliation, the rights of various ethnic parties, the future role of the military, etc. But the times with her were very rich. Conversation meandered to other subjects like life, culture, humanity, law and rights. The Lady (Suu Kyi is affectionately referred to thus across the country) really can talk. She impressed me, surprised me, that despite her years of detention she had managed to keep track of virtually everything, including UN developments and those in the world. She even told me that she had been re-examining the Myanmar constitution in readiness for the difficult negotiations ahead toward national reconciliation and democracy.
At that time, Khin Nyunt was in the ascendancy and understood the necessary ties between Myanmar and the UN better than the rest of the Tatmadaw [the military]. Khin Nyunt also did his best to make me see and understand what the military leadership was contributing to the country. I had to sit for hours listening to this minister or that minister about the achievements of Myanmar—how many roads, how many bridges, etc. Khin Nyunt also allowed me to speak to the senior government servants, including the Foreign Ministry, of course, and I grabbed the chance to say to them, “What’s wrong with your diplomatic skills, even Cambodia can get more money than you. North Korea is more successful than you in gaining assistance to the country. But you,” I told them, “what’s wrong with you?” This embarrassed them a bit, which was my purpose.
So Suu Kyi was happy and grew to hope for results from my visits. I had done my homework and discovered that the past UN representative had had more difficulty talking to her than to the government in certain instances. Perhaps my straightforward style put her more at ease. Whatever it was, there was a developing rapport between us that seemed, perhaps in her mind, to give her permission to just talk to me honestly about the problems that plagued her and her beloved country. So she talked about her struggles, what she had been doing, when she came back from England what happened to her, how she was reluctantly, as she said, induced into the struggle for democracy but just to visit the country of her birth, also because somebody was not well in her family. So it was not as if she was intending to follow in her famous father’s footsteps. But it was clear that she was, certainly, her father’s daughter.
I do not speak Burmese, but for my purposes it was unnecessary to know the language, for Suu Kyi spoke impeccable English. In fact, if she were invisible on the other side of a room and you heard her speak, you would have thought that it was some English person talking. Imagine—the unbending posture, traditional dress, flowers in the hair, and then, the Queen’s English—certainly a heady combination. And she knew it. That is why, together with the grand entrances and the wealth of her knowledge, she always made a huge impression. In fact, I once told her that if she ever became prime minister, she could give the other Asean prime ministers a run for their money debating democracy and development.
I encouraged, or rather, pleaded for Suu Kyi to find ways to talk to the military leaders. In turn, I pleaded with the government to speak to her. By my second visit, Senior General Than Shwe agreed that there would be talks between them and her, and that Gen Khin Nyunt would coordinate on the government’s behalf. The talks did indeed happen between the two sides if not directly between Suu Kyi and Khin Nyunt. Curiously, she kept this a secret from me, and it was only many visits later, on the verge of her detention being lifted, that Khin Nyunt told me, even showing me photographs of her at dinner with the entire phalanx of the military. I was flabbergasted, and the next afternoon when I went to see her, I said that I had a bone to pick with her. It was only then that she revealed that there had indeed been a few talks but not at the right level, not with Khin Nyunt, not satisfactory. According to Suu Kyi, the dinner with the generals was in fact a monologue with the senior general doing all the talking.
Talking to the government was an exercise in trying to decipher all manner of statistics thrown at me, one after another—“we have built the 29th bridge, we have done this, we have done that,” they would say. They were, after all, a military government and as such their minds worked on a different level. They saw it all purely as a matter of clear, planned objectives, as if good governance were merely a matter of moving tanks from one place to another. Only after these necessary introductions concerning the junta’s success with achieving stability and order was I able to interject, to put in feelers and grope my way around the sensitive issues. Of course, in terms of statistics, what they said was indeed true—they had in fact built this road and that bridge, etc. But to what end?
When I went back to see Suu Kyi, statistics melted away. There was a clear focus, and of course, hers was political—the prime objective must be to win democracy for Myanmar so that the people could understand and benefit from democracy and development, improve their lives and be protected by the rule of law. She knew how far behind Myanmar was in that sense. I asked her, “You are seen to have banded together with the West, to have adopted what the West wants; your cry for democracy, what motivates it? Is the aim of democracy to help the repressed of Myanmar or is this the exhortation of the West?” I told her that this was one of the reasons why she had alienated some of her Asean neighbors, why they looked upon her with unease. Her struggle, I said, should be manifestly seen to be one from within and not appear to be at the behest of others.
She would bridle at these accusations and would often let loose about Asean—“What has Asean done? I should have gotten help from them, but what have they done? Their ambassadors are afraid to see me.” There had been instances when Asean had been shocked out of its complacency to act on her behalf, as when the Depayin incident occurred on 30 May 2003. In that instance, Suu Kyi and a big number of her supporters were ambushed in the northern village of Depayin. But the Asean mantra of non-interference has allowed for a situation where Asean contributes to a status quo situation much to the detriment of the people.
When she was to be released from detention in 2002, one of the understandings was that she would not go out and demonstrate or speak badly of Myanmar outside. She was to help the government bring about good things for the people. But you are talking about an icon—you release her, everybody flocks to see her. She was always particular about not creating demonstrations, but after a while she could see that there was so much to be done yet so little was actually being done. With people pleading to her to help, her visits took on political overtones. She became more of a politician and started traveling farther outside of Yangon [Rangoon]. Everywhere she went, tens of thousands followed. The military leaders were disturbed. I made the point to a minister I knew for some time that it would be a mistake to let Suu Kyi travel around and not begin the critical talks between the government and the NLD.
Then Depayin happened and she was nearly killed. She was unceremoniously clapped into prison. They did allow me to see her after it became untenable for them, though they never told me she was in prison. They called me, so I went. It was like one of those detective stories—they changed cars, changed drivers, I had no idea who the guy behind the wheel was. I got into the car and I thought, “What on earth am I doing?” I was driven farther and farther and I was all by myself. I thought, “Am I going to be safe?” There were cars with tinted windows following. Then all of a sudden, we had arrived. And what a destination it was, Insein Prison, the general prison where all manner of crooks and criminals were gathered. Pronounced like “insane,” the irony of the prison’s name was certainly not lost on me. Inside the compound, I was driven first to the left, then to the right, then finally, to a concrete hut.
And there she was. In a small concrete hut with a well outside. I went in to see her and was shocked. She was dishevelled, totally unlike the vision who usually greeted me. She said to me, “I want justice, Raz,” and then turned to one of the military officials she knew who was standing beside me and commanded, “I want my clothes. From my house. I don’t want to wear these clothes that you’ve given me. And I want all my make-up to be brought to me.” I was taken aback by the fact that her humanness was betrayed by this. Then she said, amazingly, that she was prepared to turn the page for the sake of the people and reconciliation, saying she was still prepared to talk to the government. When I got back to Khin Nyunt, I was angry and sad. I said, “How can you do this? What am I supposed to tell the world?”
So I kept quiet for a while and did not tell the world she was in prison. I did say that she was safe and that her spirit was strong. I told only the UN Secretary-General that she was in prison.
The last time I saw Suu Kyi was in March 2004 when she was back at her home under house arrest. She reiterated her readiness to meet the generals, despite Depayin, for the sake of the people. Suu Kyi had come a long way to realize that democracy can only be done through the generals, with the latter still in the driving seat. This realization of hers is in stark contrast to the imperious, principled and unbending Suu Kyi I had met over twenty meetings ago. She was hugely concerned as to how far behind Myanmar was compared to its neighbors. She was equally disturbed by the fact that other ethnic groups were not given a level playing field, the Rohingyas, for example. I was unable, to the very end, to make the generals recognize and acknowledge the changes in Suu Kyi. Than Shwe continued to label her as a marionette of the West and quite recently efforts are afoot to make Suu Kyi irrelevant to Myanmar.
I think that Than Shwe sees me as being close to Khin Nyunt, which is true, because since he allowed us to work together, we developed a good relationship. Since I am viewed as being part of him or his period, I know they would not want me. Thus my resignation as the UN special envoy is timely and allows them to consider someone else. It is a pity, though, I have built a broad base of useful contacts with Khin Nyunt and the others, including the ethnic groups, and these same people might come back to power. Now looking back, I cannot help but feel that we did not do enough to ensure the continuing survival and role of Khin Nyunt. So with Myanmar, I do not see any prospects of change, as there are no internal dynamics operating there.
So the Lady languishes in detention for God knows how much longer, one season after another, from the monsoon, the cool season and the mango showers. I do not know how she does it, but I do know that she will remain unbowed under all circumstances. It is not personal freedom that she is after. She will only accept this if it comes with freedom for her beloved people. I remember when she was in prison just after the Depayin incident. Her son Alexander contacted me to say that he would like to visit his mother. So I said I would try. When I posed the question to her, she immediately responded with a firm denial, saying that she was no different than any of the others there in prison. She said, “Why should I be treated differently? Why should my child be allowed to see his mother when there are countless others who never see their unjustly imprisoned mothers again for the rest of their lives?”
Such is Suu Kyi, fortified by her strong principles. Even as I write this, I can see her sitting on that settee, back straight, calm. Awaiting the time when there can be talks or meaningful changes. But does time wait even though she believes she has time on her side? The intransigence of the military and the ineffectiveness of Asean do not provide hopeful signs. But the scent of her bunga melor lingers yet, and she continues to wait, upright, undeterred, in her house. And the people wait with her. 
This article is an excerpt from Number One Wisma Putra published by the Institute of Diplomacy and  Foreign Relations of Malaysia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs in 2006