The narrowing way out

M

yanmar junta chief Min Aung Hlaing already makes rare trips outside of his country. Now that the top prosecutor of the International Criminal Court (ICC) has asked that a warrant for his arrest be issued, he may be even more reluctant to step outside of Myanmar – unlike so many of the country’s people.

The dire situation in Myanmar has driven countless people, especially its youth, to seek refuge abroad, often at great personal and financial risk. The combination of escalating violence, forced conscription, economic collapse, and daily uncertainty has left many feeling they have no choice but to leave. For many of Myanmar’s youth, the decision to flee is not merely about seeking better opportunities, but also about escaping a life of fear and oppression.

“I’m sick of living in uncertainty,” says a 26-year-old man from Yangon. “Every day, I fear being forcibly conscripted. On top of that, the collapsing economy has made it impossible to support my family. I’ve decided to leave for Thailand and then Dubai to find any job I can. The most important thing is to get out of this hell.”

“I can’t bear to live in constant fear,” says another 26-year-old from Myanmar’s former capital. “The thought of being conscripted into the military is terrifying. Every day, I worry that I might be taken. It’s impossible to plan for the future when you’re always looking over your shoulder.” 

Of Myanmar’s 54.5 million people, 32 percent or 17.55 million are between 15 and 34 years old. Including those between 35 and 39 years old, the percentage figure goes up to 40 percent.

Yet the possibility for young individuals to leave Myanmar, even for short trips, is shrinking rapidly as the military junta tightens its oppressive grip. As it enforces conscription, the junta — desperate to stem the exodus – is finding more ways and means to further curtail the limited freedoms of Myanmar’s citizens. 

The military regime has practically weaponized every institution, turning them into tools of oppression. Even the country’s airports, once symbols of freedom and mobility, are now places of fear and corruption. Heightened airport security measures, rampant corruption, and the abuse of power by security forces and immigration officials have now made travel nearly impossible for many.

Security forces, pressured to meet recruitment targets, see young travelers as both potential soldiers and sources of income. A source close to airport security tells ADC: “The officers are under orders to stop anyone they suspect of leaving permanently. But at the same time, they use their position to make money. It’s a win-win for them, and a nightmare for us.”

Obstacles at every turn

Travelers report routine harassment, arbitrary decisions, and outright bullying at the country’s points of exit, including at land border crossings. But travelers have expressed surprise at the current situation at the country’s airports, where they say young people, especially first-time travelers, are particularly treated with suspicion. Officers often ask them invasive questions, and their approval seemingly depends on their mood.

“I was forced to return from the airport without any explanation,” recounts a 28-year-old male traveler who attempted to visit friends in Thailand just this October. “They didn’t even give me a chance to explain myself. I lost what I paid for my flight tickets and hotel. It was frustrating, but in this situation, all we can do is go home and avoid further risks.”

“It feels like our travel rights are entirely subject to the whims of airport officers,” the young traveler continues. “They even check our phones, violating our privacy. If they find anything remotely suspicious—like messages or photos suggesting we don’t plan to return—they block us from leaving.”

“I’ve seen friends try to leave, only to be turned back at the airport,” a 25-year-old from Mandalay says. “Some of them sold everything they had to buy a ticket, and now they’re worse off than before. The system is designed to make you give up, to make you stay no matter how bad things are.”

Corruption at the airports compounds the problem. Officials routinely exploit desperate travelers by demanding bribes or promoting the use of “VIP passes.” These passes, sold through agents in collaboration with airport staff, can cost up to MMK 1 million (approximately US$230) or more, depending on the “services” offered.

“It’s shameful,” says the 28-year-old traveler. “Families sell their belongings or borrow money to buy these passes. It’s like the authorities are creating obstacles just to profit off our desperation.”

Young men are the primary targets of security and immigration authorities, especially in areas affected by conflict such as Sagaing, Rakhine, and Kayah. According to the source with inside information on airport security, individuals from these regions face heightened scrutiny and greater chances of being denied travel. 

“Sometimes it depends on your National Registration Card (NRC),” says the source. “If the authorities see you’re from a conflict-affected area, they’re more likely to block you. (So) sometimes it’s not just about your age or travel history. It also depends on where you’re from. If you’re from Sagaing, Rakhine, or other conflict zones, your chances of being denied are much higher.”

An untenable situation

Just months after the military grabbed power from Myanmar’s duly elected civilian government in February 2021, the country had disintegrated into a civil war that is raging up to now. Ethnic armed groups and pro-democracy forces teamed up in several areas across the Southeast Asian nation, and some estimates put the areas now under their combined control at as much as 60 percent of Myanmar. Many observers meanwhile are taking the cue from the junta’s list of places on which to impose a fuel blockade to pinpoint current anti-government strongholds: northern Shan, Kachin and Rakhine states, and Sagaing Region.

The growing strength of the anti-government forces prompted the junta to revive Myanmar’s conscription law last February. Under the law – which dates back to 2010 but is only the latest in a string of similar legislation — those called to military service can be expected to remain in uniform for five years “if the state is under an emergency.” Covered by the conscription are men aged 18 to 35 and women aged 18 to 27. 

Since the law began being enforced earlier this year, the military has conscripted more than 20,000 individuals across five batches. The regime plans to recruit even more, seeing conscription as essential to replenishing its ranks amid ongoing conflicts with resistance groups and growing defections in the military.

Yet even before the conscription program’s revival was announced, life after the 2021 coup in Myanmar had already led to growing anxiety among the country’s youth, who felt trapped in a system that offered no stability or hope for improvement. 

The economic crisis has compounded this fear. Inflation has made basic necessities unaffordable, while the collapse of industries and businesses has left many jobless. In major cities like Yangon and Mandalay, even skilled workers struggle to find employment that pays enough to cover daily expenses. For many local labor migrants, sending money home to support their families has become an unattainable goal.

The added worry of being dragged into military service has made staying in Myanmar all the more untenable for many young people. After all, the Tatmadaw, as Myanmar’s military is known, has a reputation for human rights abuses and violent tactics. Even those who might have previously chosen to endure the economic hardships and political instability now feel they must leave, to avoid conscription. 

Indeed, many remain determined to flee despite knowing that the journey is fraught with challenges. Securing the necessary documents, raising funds for travel, and navigating increasingly restrictive airport protocols require tremendous effort. Many young people must sell their possessions or borrow money to afford a ticket out of the country. There are families pooling resources or taking on debt just to fund a relative’s escape. The financial burden can be overwhelming, especially for families already struggling to make ends meet. Yet even those with ample resources know that success is not guaranteed.

The emotional toll is just as severe. Leaving home, often under the cover of secrecy, means severing ties with loved ones and entering an uncertain future. Many young people leave without a clear plan, driven only by the desperate hope that life abroad will be safer and more stable.

For all these, the desire to escape remains strong among many of Myanmar’s youth. To them, leaving the country represents a chance to reclaim and restart their lives.

“I have no idea what will happen next,” admits a 27-year-old from Ayeyarwady Region. “But I know that anywhere is better than here. My mother hasn’t slept well since the conscription orders started. She constantly worries about me being taken away. At least if I’m abroad, she’ll have some peace of mind.”

“I don’t know if I’ll succeed,” a 23-year-old from Sagaing tells ADC. “But I know I can’t stay here. Every day I stay is another day I risk losing everything.” ◉