On November 19, 2025, Myanmar’s military authorities announced a sweeping raid on an internet scam hub along the Thai border, resulting in the arrest of nearly 350 individuals. According to state media, The Global New Light of Myanmar, the operation targeted Shwe Kokko, a notorious gambling and fraud compound that has long been at the center of sprawling criminal enterprises in the region. These so-called “fraud factories” have flourished in Myanmar’s conflict-ridden borderlands, orchestrating romance and business scams that siphon tens of billions of dollars from victims worldwide each year.
This latest crackdown, which began in earnest in February 2025, follows sustained pressure from China—Myanmar’s key military backer. Chinese authorities have grown increasingly concerned about the proliferation of cross-border cybercrime, much of it emanating from Myanmar’s loosely governed frontier zones. As a result, the junta has made a show of clamping down on these criminal operations, launching a series of high-profile raids since October 2025. Yet, as analysts and rights monitors note, these efforts may be as much about optics as genuine reform.
“The additional raids beginning last month are part of a propaganda effort, choreographed to vent pressure from Beijing without too badly denting profits that enrich the junta’s militia allies,” one observer told The Global New Light of Myanmar. The implication is clear: while the military seeks to appease its Chinese patrons, it remains wary of undermining the illicit revenues that help sustain its rule amid growing domestic and international isolation.
Behind the scenes, Myanmar’s political landscape is roiling with tension and distrust. On the very same day as the military’s announcement, a searing opinion piece was published by an anonymous revolutionary, lambasting what he called the junta’s “political circus” and denouncing the upcoming elections as a sham designed to entrench military power. “The world knows it’s a fraud—yet some international actors are already applauding from the audience, and worse, some revolutionary leaders are quietly preparing to join the show,” the author wrote. His words reflect a deepening sense of frustration among Myanmar’s pro-democracy movement, which has been battered but not broken since the military coup of 2021.
The opinion piece, published on November 19, 2025, did not mince words about the junta’s tactics. It accused the military of weaponizing elections to “force obedience, erase resistance, and legitimize war criminals.” The writer painted a grim picture: political leaders languishing in prison, youth conscripted into the armed forces, and artists paraded as symbols of a democracy that no longer exists. “Anyone who participates is helping the junta build a new cage—one with ballot boxes instead of bullets,” he declared.
This disillusionment has been exacerbated by recent developments within the opposition. The sudden withdrawal of the Karen National Union (KNU) and the Karenni National Progressive Party (KNPP) from the National Unity Consultative Council (NUCC) has sent shockwaves through the resistance. These groups were once seen as architects of a future federal democracy, but their exit from the NUCC comes just as the junta accelerates its election plans and international actors push for dialogue. “KNU and KNPP’s sudden withdrawal from NUCC is not just a bureaucratic decision—it is a political earthquake,” the author insisted. “The timing doesn’t smell like strategy—it smells like retreat.”
The formation of the Joint Coordination Body (JCB), a new platform positioned to be recognized internationally as a “dialogue partner” after the elections, has further fueled suspicions among revolutionaries. Some opposition figures appear willing to engage with the JCB, despite concerns that any structure built around the junta’s electoral process amounts to “a surrender disguised as peace.” The anonymous author was unequivocal: “You don’t liberate a nation by negotiating before victory. You don’t negotiate with war criminals while political prisoners are still in chains.”
Events on the ground have only hardened these views. In Mogok, a town that had celebrated the Ta’ang National Liberation Army (TNLA) as liberators, the sight of TNLA fighters escorting junta forces back into the city—reportedly under Chinese pressure—was seen as a betrayal. “A victory was handed back to the perpetrators,” the revolutionary wrote, warning that such incidents risk eroding public faith not only in the revolution but in those who claim to lead it.
The international community, meanwhile, has come under fire for what many see as a double standard. Foreign diplomats, the author argued, “preach unity from their safe offices and say: ‘You must talk to the military.’ No—the world must stop rewarding criminals. No—Myanmar’s people are not obligated to negotiate their own oppression.” The call was clear: unity should be forged to eradicate military dictatorship, not to coexist with it.
Despite the regime’s attempts to project strength, signs of weakness abound. The opinion piece highlighted that “this is the weakest moment in the junta’s history. Their soldiers surrender daily. Their economy is collapsing. Their legitimacy is gone.” Yet, the writer lamented, “victory slips away because those who claim leadership fail to lead.” The message was blunt: “Enough of the excuses. Enough of the backdoor deals. Enough of the fear. If you believe the military deserves a seat at the table more than the youth dying in the trenches—you are not a leader. You are a coward. And a coward has no place in this revolution.”
Through all this turmoil, one thing remains certain: the struggle for Myanmar’s future is far from over. The Spring Revolution, as the resistance movement is known, is driven by a promise—that this time, the military’s political power will be dismantled for good and that the sacrifices of the people will not be in vain. “There is only one legitimate unity: unity to eradicate military dictatorship—not to coexist with it,” the author concluded. “Myanmar does not need another cycle of fake peace. It needs justice—and the determination to finish what the people began.”
As Myanmar’s military continues its headline-grabbing raids on criminal enterprises, and as international actors debate the merits of dialogue versus confrontation, the country’s fate hangs in the balance. For now, the voices of those risking everything for freedom ring out, demanding not just change, but a reckoning with the past and a new path forward—one that does not repeat the mistakes of old.
