bout de papier, Vol. 29, No. 4 (2016), pp. 10–11
Note de la redaction: C’est en lisant le livre de John Graham, Who’s Man in Havana, dans lequel il raconte, entre autre, sa participation a des missions d’observation électorales que l’équipe de bout de papier a eu l’idée de demander a nos collègues FS de partager leurs récentes experiences a ce sujet. Jade Puddington et Alex Johnston ont répondu a | ‘appel et nous racontent dans les pages suivantes leurs experiences respectives au Myanmar (Birmanie) et au Mali.
I knew when I joined the Foreign Service that I would get to have innumerable adventures and unique experiences, but never could I have imagined that five years only after joining the Department, I would be sitting on a plastic chair in a one-room school house with a rusty metal roof, watching votes being counted in one of the most important Burmese elections in over half a century.
I had arrived in Yangon, the capital of Burma, a week before national elections were slated to take place on November 8, 2015. I had visited the city two years earlier and while much had stayed the same, much had also changed. Yangon is a bustling city brimming with history and a desire to move forward. Golden pagodas stand in the middle of busy traffic circles brightly illuminated by spotlights. British colonial buildings, wrapped in ivy and moss, stand adjacent to scaffolding which will give birth to skyrises. The air is hot and the humidity high. As night descends on the city, streets tend to be more dark than light, but that doesn’t stop lively street vendors from — setting up to sell their wares—from View of Sule Pagoda, up the street fruits, to cell phones, to skewers of food cooked in pots of oil.
I had been sent to Burma from Ottawa to help our embassy with reporting in the lead up to the elections, and to be there for the event itself to act as an election monitor. This was arguably the first opportunity for the citizens of Burma to participate in a free and fair election in over 25 years, and you could sense an enthusiasm in the city — something reflected across the country as well. Bubbling under the optimism though, was an anxiousness brought on by uncertainty of how events would unfold.
For an entire generation, it would be the first opportunity to truly go to the polls. In 1990, somewhat free elections had been held — during which opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD) had won a majority. However, the military refused to accept the results and instead put her under house arrest. Burma had essentially been a military dictatorship for 60 years until 2010, Burma had essentially been a military
dictatorship for 60 years until 2010, i when the military again allowed a elections and this time, a semi- ° civilian government to come into ; power. Since those 2010 elections, “ Burma had undergone significant
changes in moving from a military dictatorship to a fledgling democratic regime, and the outside world had taken notice. This election would be a true test of that commitment to democracy. Would this be a repeat of 1990? Would there be violence? While everyone hoped for the best, the worst case scenario hovered in people’s subconscious.
Throughout the democratic changes which had been taking place, the Burmese government had been remarkably open to receiving advice and support from the international
community. It was equally determent to the democratic transition, and community. It was equally determined to show its commitment to the democratic transition, and was making the process for its 2015 national elections as open as possible. This included allowing countries and international organizations to send observer groups to monitor these elections. Determined to have Canada play a role, our Ambassador had all members of the embassy accredited as official observers, as well as myself and a colleague from our mission in Bangkok. We would have seven teams of two (one Canada Based Staff (CBS), one Locally Engaged Staff (LES)), each of them with a car and driver.
The day before the elections, our teams began spreading across the country. One took the overnight bus to Pa’an and would coordinate with the Thai observers. Two CBS embedded with the European mission left with their EU counterparts for Mon State. The Ambassador drove to the delta region. As for me, like those remaining, I would start my adventure before sunrise on the day of elections. In total, the teams would cover a diversity of areas, from largely Muslim, to ethnic Bamar, from poor, to urban, to rural, to military.
My car and driver picked me up at the hotel at 5:30 am so that I could meet Lwin Mar, the LES with whom I was paired, at her polling station. While she was waiting to vote (the Ambassador ensured that all embassy LES had the opportunity to do so), I would be inside observing the station. It was a bit of a surreal feeling walking into the hotel lobby at that early hour. The lobby was abuzz with people. In the days leading up to the elections, a number of new groups had arrived in the hotel — a surprising amount were tourists but most were election observers from the Carter Center, easily identifiable with their matching satchels and blue shirts. That morning they were all preparing to head out. The hotel lobby counter was stacked high with boxed breakfasts, ready to go.
Driving along in the pre-dawn, the city was already moving hazily. Joggers were out running around the park before the shrine which was doubling up as a polling station. I walked its length and received smiles and nods. With my green accreditation card hanging from my neck, they knew I was one of thousands of observers in the country to ensure the elections went well. I walked back to the entrance of the shrine, past many dressed in attire fit for a celebration. As soon as I showed my pass, I was allowed entry (minus my shoes and socks). There were already three local observers in the area designated for monitors. I joined them and received a rundown of what had happened so far. The elections had started smoothly.
Voters would enter the building a few at a time, proceed to the first table to present their voting slips and receive their first ballot for the national parliament. They would go behind cardboard shields to mark their selec- = —————.
shields to mark their selection, fold the paper and put it into the ballot box themselves. They would then continue to another table and go through a similar process for the regional vote and, if they were part of an ethnic group, repeat the process a third time for an ethnic vote. Before leaving, they had to have their pinkie finger dipped in ink to clearly indicate they had had their opportunity to vote. [You may ask how much ink is required to mark the fingers of voters at
Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 29, No. 4 (2016), pp. 10–11. Read the rest of this issue →
