Myanmar Junta Leader's Honorary Degree Betrays Education's Core Values
The day news broke that Min Aung Hlaing, the military commander who led Myanmar's 2021 coup, had received an honorary doctorate from Yangon University, something inside me shattered. I did not cry. I did not speak. I simply stared, unable to reconcile this betrayal with the institution I once loved.
A Sanctuary of Truth Turned Into a Tool of Oppression
Yangon University was not merely where I studied; it was where I became who I am. I earned my doctorate there through years of sacrifice—long nights surrounded by books, sustained by the quiet belief that education could shape not only my life but my country's future. I believed knowledge was sacred and universities were sanctuaries of truth. I believed education could protect us from darkness. I was wrong.
When the military seized power in February 2021, everything I had built—and everything I believed in—was destroyed overnight. At the time, I served as a civil servant in Myanmar's education system, dedicated to teaching. My students were not just names on a list; they were young people brimming with intelligence, curiosity, and hope. They trusted us to prepare them for a future they deserved to claim.
The Impossible Choice: Conscience or Compliance
When the coup happened, I faced an impossible choice: continue teaching under a regime built on violence and lies, or refuse. I joined the Civil Disobedience Movement, knowing full well it would cost me my job, my stability, and the life I had spent decades building. But I could not lose my conscience.
Since then, I have lived in hiding inside Myanmar, existing in the shadows of the country I once served openly. I move carefully. I speak cautiously. Fear has become part of daily life, not because I committed a crime but because I refused to accept injustice.
The Greatest Pain: Students' Futures Stolen
Yet what haunts me most is not what I lost but what my students lost. They were young, brilliant, and full of promise, dreaming of becoming teachers, doctors, writers, and builders of a better Myanmar. Many joined the resistance after the coup. Some were killed. Some were forced into exile. Some disappeared into prisons. Some are still fighting. And some will never return.
At night, their faces come back to me—alive, hopeful, smiling as they were in my classroom. Then I remember what was taken from them. I remember that the future they deserved was stolen before it could begin. There is no greater pain for a teacher than to see her students' lives cut short.
Academic Robes Cannot Conceal Bloodstained Hands
And now, the man responsible for their suffering stands in academic robes, receiving honours from the very institution that once stood for truth. He presents himself as a patron of education, but his army has bombed schools. His orders have turned campuses into places of fear. His power has driven teachers into hiding and students into graves. He did not build education; he destroyed it.
When I saw him receive that honorary degree, I felt something I never expected toward Yangon University: shame. Not for myself, but for what the institution had become. I looked at my own doctorate certificate, once treasured, and felt its meaning dissolve in my hands. What does a degree represent when it can also honour a destroyer of lives? What does academic recognition mean when it is given to legitimise oppression?
Education's Enduring Strength Against Tyranny
For the first time, I wondered whether my degree still held the dignity I believed it did. Many colleagues feel the same. We speak quietly, remembering the lives we once had, the classrooms we once filled, the future we once believed was within reach. It feels like remembering another country.
The military wants us to accept this reality. They want us to believe resistance is futile and their authority permanent. But I refuse. Education is stronger than fear. Truth is stronger than propaganda. The sacrifices of our students must mean something.
I continue to believe that one day, I will return to teaching—not in hiding, but in freedom. I will stand in a classroom again, not under the shadow of violence, but under the protection of justice. I will teach students who no longer have to choose between education and survival.
The Unbreakable Spirit of Myanmar's Educators
That day has not yet come. The struggle continues. The cost is immense. Many of us carry grief that cannot be measured. But we endure because surrender would mean accepting the destruction of our nation's future.
Min Aung Hlaing may hold an honorary degree, but he will never hold legitimacy. He may control universities, but he cannot control truth. And when Myanmar is free again, we will return—not in fear, but in dignity.
We will rebuild our classrooms. We will honour those we lost. And we will restore the meaning of education.
