"Dancing With The Generals"

Aung San Suu Kyi's response to the Rohingya genocide--perhaps I should say our reaction to her response--is a dilemma affecting every friend of Burma.

I've been covering the country--and its diaspora--since the student uprising of 1988. I've made several documentary films on its struggle for freedom and a number of special film reports on human rights issues.

I've risked my safety on many clandestine treks across the Thai-Burma border region, accidentally walked into minefields, been shot at and been in the trenches--literally and metaphorically--with the Karen liberation movement.

All because I love Burma and the Burmese people.

Unlike so many supporters in the political West, I never totally bought-into the narrative of Suu Kyi as unblemished flower and sole saviour of the country. I've always respected "The Lady", as she's called by her supporters, but I'm also inherently suspicious of the "Big Man" (or "Big Woman") concept of history.

Suu Kyi's story is a tragedy of Ancient Greek definition. She was a woman in whom we placed so much hope and trust. But is it surprising that, like so many of our heroes and heroines, we find that she has feet of clay? 

"The Angel of Burma" was always a trope to help explain an incredibly complicated mess of power, politics, hatred and outright racism; a bit like the lazy journalism of the Balkans that said Bosnian Muslims "all good", Serbs "all bad". 

The daughter of General Aung San--the founder of Burma's modern army and a master of playing both sides (Japan and colonial Britain) during the struggle for independence--knows exactly what she is doing. 

Dancing with the generals, she has sacrificed the Rohingya in her own pursuit of power. Not a word, not a whimper has she uttered in their defence. For her the end justifies the means.

Just don't save the last dance for me.