By Laura Rector
The aftermath of a recent election brings tears to my eyes. No, it’s not from an elephant kick or donkey shakedown. It’s not a cry over spilt tea, and there’s not a Rand Paul or Barbara Boxer-shaped hole in my heart. I’m not actually talking about America’s election.
A few days ago, there was also an election in a tiny country called Burma (also known as Myanmar). This was the first so-called “election” in 20 years. It’s an “election” that was solely designed to keep the military junta that controls the country in power. It’s an “election” that has resulted in government violence against its own people. It’s an “election” that left at least 20,000 refugees and many others locked in their homes, afraid to come out lest they be shot by their own government, according to The Irrawaddy. It’s an “election” that was a total sham.
And it’s an election that both calls me to pray for the Burmese people and convicts me of American sin.
You see, I’m learning a lot from Burma. I’m learning that no matter how I feel about who is elected to what office here I can be glad that in the United States, the voice of the people is heard. As Americans, we often forget this. It’s much easier to call one another names, vent on our favorite social network, or take jabs at the leaders of the opposing party than it is to express gratitude or humility in the midst of our politics, whether in wins or losses.
In contrast, the voice of the people has not been heard in Burma for a long time. The president chosen by Burma in their last election is a woman named Aung San Suu Kyi. She’s spent most of the last 20 years under house arrest by the military. Supposedly, this Nobel peace laureate will be released on Nov. 13, but it seems unlikely in light of multiple delays of her release over the past decades.
This week, her people also reminded me that the very act of voting is a sacred task. It’s a task for which many Burmese people are literally giving their lives. That should shame us when we say, “Why does it matter if I vote?” It should shame us when we whine about the outcome and when we act snidely or rudely to our fellow citizens for their beliefs.
When I’m tempted to want political change to happen too quickly and tell my leaders, “Give me change now,” with little work or little patience or even little information, Burma reminds me that sometimes the most hopeful changes result from slow-moving, painstaking work.
Suu Kyi, as I pointed out, has been under house arrest for most of the last 20 years, and yet her party keeps working for freedom. In light of such sacrifice, can I really say it’s a hardship for me to take a few minutes to write a letter or go to a city council meeting? Is it really a sacrifice for me to read multiple news outlets or to check facts before grumbling about things that may not even be true? In a world where some people are still jailed for trying to win freedom and democracy, couldn’t I be a little kinder to my fellow voters, a little more patient with our own political system, and even a little more thoughtful about how I speak about political leaders?
The bitter voices of our country are weak compared to the strong voices of Burma’s more than 2,000 silenced political prisoners. Our bickering looks callous in light of the massive suffering of this tiny country.
The problems of Burma won’t end today. They won’t end tomorrow. America’s problems won’t end today or tomorrow either. Yet, thanks to Burma, I’m reminded that I was able to do something very sacred on Nov. 2, 2010. I was able to go to a ballot box, fill in some circles with ink, and, in doing so, participate in something that is bigger than just one person. This very act was a gesture of belief — a belief that I matter and that my fellow citizens matter, even though our American grumbling sometimes erases that faith from our minds.
Burma’s election on Nov. 7 should have been equally sacred. Sadly, it wasn’t.
Instead of whining and bickering, could we as Americans add our prayers to the prayers around the world for Burma? Could we pray for the aftermath of their election and for Aung San Suu Kyi’s release? And, by doing so, could we gain a new perspective on our own disgruntled politics?