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Imagined Futures: Education and Nation-building in Karen-dominated Refugee Camps along the Thailand-Burma Border

By Kim Johnson

Adissertationsubmittedinpartialfulfillmentof

therequirementsforthedegreeof

DoctorofPhilosophy

(EducationalPolicyStudies)

at

UNIVERSITYOFWISCONSIN‐MADISON 2016

Date of final oral examination: 05/06/2016 Dissertation is approved by the members of the Final Oral Committee

Nancy Kendall, Professor, Education Policy Studies Lesley Bartlett, Professor, Education Policy Studies Erica Turner, Professor, Education Policy Studies Mary McCoy, Professor, Southeast Asian Studies Simone Schweber, Professor, Curriculum and Instruction

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This dissertation would not have been possible without the help, encouragement, and

support of my advisor, Nancy Kendall. I greatly appreciate her questions and suggestions that

pushed me to deepen and clarify my thinking. Additionally, I would like to thank my committee

members, Lesley Bartlett, Erica Turner, Mary McCoy, and Simone Schweber, for their support

and suggestions.

I would also like to thank the people with whom I worked, played, and lived while in

Thailand. In particular, I would like to thank Dorcus Moo, Paw Moo, Catherine Daly, and Katie

Julien for facilitating the logistics of this research and for helping me gain insight into what I was

seeing and experiencing. I am grateful to the teachers and administrators in the camps who

hosted me and took the time to talk with me. Additionally, I would like to thank the

organization with whom I worked and volunteered for their hospitality and their insights into

many different aspects of education for displaced people from Burma.

Finally, I would not have been able to finish this dissertation without the love and

encouragement the two most important people in my life. My mom, Kathleen Sernak, was with

me and encouraging me from the very beginning of this project. Her faith in me never wavered,

even when I questioned myself. And my partner, David, whose boundless patience, kindness,

and thoughtfulness enabled me to continue even when I thought it was impossible. Thanks, D.

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ABBREVIATIONS

CCSDPT Committee for Coordination of Services to Displaced Persons CESR Comprehensive Education Sector Review EBP Education Border Project EDA Education Development Associations EFA Education for All

FTI Fast Track Initiative GRUM Government of the Republic of the Union of Myanmar INEE Inter-Agency Network for Education in Emergencies KED Karen Education Department KNU Karen National Union KREG Karen Refugee Education Group MDG Millennium Development Goals MOE Ministry of Education MOI Ministry of Interior MSEE Minimum Standards for Education in Emergencies NNER National Network for Education Reform PAB Provincial Administration Board

PKU Parliament for the Karen Union PSES Post Secondary Education System RTG Royal Thai Government WCEFA World Conference on Education for All

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INDEX OF FIGURES

Figure 1. Adverts for senior level positions with NGOs 57

Figure 2. Contents from “Teaching Skills” 189

Figure 3. Options for graduates of KREG schools 208

Figure 4. Graphic from EBP website depicting participation processes 253

Figure 5. Course map from “General English Pre-Intermediate” 267

Figure 6. Table of Contents from “Environment Issues” module 269

Figure 7. Notes from teacher training session in camp 321

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Abbreviations 1

Index of Figures 2

Expanded Table of Contents 4

Chapter 1: Introduction 9

Chapter 2: Education in Colonial Burma 86

Chapter 3: The Thailand-Burma Border 1980s-2010 126

Chapter 4: Establishing K-10 Education in the Camps 159

Chapter 5: Post-Secondary Education in the Camp 205

Chapter 6: PSES curricula development 236

Chapter 7: Durable Solutions 275

Chapter 8: Education System Convergence 305

Chapter 9: Conclusion 349

Appendix A 356

Bibliography 357

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EXPANDED TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABBREVIATIONS ........................................................................................................................ 3

INDEX OF FIGURES .................................................................................................................... 4

TABLE OF CONTENTS ................................................................................................................ 5

EXPANDED TABLE OF CONTENTS ......................................................................................... 6

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION ................................................................................................. 11

Place, Home, and Education ..................................................................................................... 14

Policy in practice................................................................................................................... 18

Background ............................................................................................................................... 19

Refugee camp creation. ......................................................................................................... 19

Repatriation. .......................................................................................................................... 21

Education. ............................................................................................................................. 22

Education Policy Agendas ............................................................................................................ 26

Three Purposes of Education .................................................................................................... 27

Nation-building. .................................................................................................................... 29

Economic development. ........................................................................................................ 36

Fulfillment of human rights. ................................................................................................. 40

Policy and the purposes of education........................................................................................ 43

Conceptual Framework ................................................................................................................. 45

Neo-institutional Theory ........................................................................................................... 47

Political Economy Framework ................................................................................................. 50

ID Ideology ............................................................................................................................... 52

ID organizations and education in aid and development settings. ........................................ 54

Organizations and experts. .................................................................................................... 57

Local experts. ........................................................................................................................ 61

Participation .............................................................................................................................. 65

Dimensions of Participation. ................................................................................................. 67

Friction Among Different Levels of Socio-Political Actors ..................................................... 72

Methods......................................................................................................................................... 74

Data Analysis ................................................................................................................................ 80

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Overview of Chapters ................................................................................................................... 82

CHAPTER 2: EDUCATION IN COLONIAL BURMA.............................................................. 88

Precolonial Burma: Traditional Burmese Social Structure ....................................................... 89

Organization of the kingdom ................................................................................................ 90

Social roles in the village. ..................................................................................................... 92

Monastic Education. ............................................................................................................. 93

The Formation of British-Burma .............................................................................................. 94

Burma, Thailand, and the international landscape. ............................................................... 94

British administration of Burma. .......................................................................................... 99

Education under British rule (1890s-1940s). ...................................................................... 100

Education in British-Burma .................................................................................................... 103

Education in the highlands. ................................................................................................. 103

Education in the lowlands. .................................................................................................. 107

Education administration. ................................................................................................... 112

Negotiating and implementing education reform. .............................................................. 113

Changing purposes of education. ........................................................................................ 117

Higher education. ................................................................................................................ 118

Postcolonial Burma: The Thailand and Burma Border........................................................... 121

Burma’s military government. ............................................................................................ 121

Armed conflict in Burma. ................................................................................................... 124

Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 127

CHAPTER 3: THE THAILAND-BURMA BORDER 1980s-2010 ........................................... 128

Refugee Camps on the Thailand-Burma Border (1984-1994) ................................................ 130

Initiation of development services in the camps. ................................................................ 134

Structure of the refugee camps ........................................................................................... 136

Protracted refugee situation .................................................................................................... 138

International policies for refugee situations ........................................................................ 141

Why Focus on Education? ...................................................................................................... 147

The role of education in the development of Thailand. ...................................................... 147

The ID community’s perception of the role of education in development ......................... 149

Millennium Summit ................................................................................................................ 150

World Education Forum ......................................................................................................... 154

Resources and accountability. ............................................................................................. 155

International influence on domestic education policies. ..................................................... 156

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Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 158

CHAPTER 4: ESTABLISHING K-10 EDUCATION IN CAMP ............................................. 161

Education and the Transition from Emergency to a Chronic Refugee Situation .................... 162

Camp-based education ........................................................................................................ 163

Creating agreement and action among stakeholders ........................................................... 165

Creating compromises ........................................................................................................ 174

Forms of Participation and How They Shape Interactions ..................................................... 176

Who participates: democracy and dominance .................................................................... 177

Education System Governance by the Ethnic Majority in Camp ........................................... 180

Karen Refugee Education Group rationale ......................................................................... 181

Structure of KREG .............................................................................................................. 183

Camp-Based Education System .............................................................................................. 184

Primary and post-primary curricula development .............................................................. 186

Teacher training .................................................................................................................. 188

Divergence of the Camp-Based and Burma-based Karen ...................................................... 192

Place and culture ................................................................................................................. 192

Self-determination of camp-based Karen culture ............................................................... 197

Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 201

CHAPTER 5: POST-SECONDARY EDUCATION IN THE CAMPS ..................................... 205

Graduates of K-10 Camp-Based Education ............................................................................ 207

The Post-Secondary Education System .................................................................................. 210

The Physical and Social Environment of a Junior College..................................................... 212

The physical structure of the junior colleges ...................................................................... 212

Student life at a junior college ............................................................................................ 213

The Academic Policies of the PSES schools .......................................................................... 215

PSES credentials ................................................................................................................. 216

Purpose of Education at PSES ................................................................................................ 218

Students ............................................................................................................................... 218

Teachers .............................................................................................................................. 221

Education, Culture, and ID ideology ...................................................................................... 224

International recognition of the Karen ................................................................................ 224

Languages used (and not used) in the junior colleges ............................................................ 226

The changing meaning of Burmese language ..................................................................... 227

Language as a tool rather than an identity .......................................................................... 227

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Language policies and practices in the junior colleges ....................................................... 230

Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 232

CHAPTER 6: POST SECONDARY EDUCATION SYSTEM CURRICULA DEVELOPMENT

AND USE ................................................................................................................................... 236

Administrative Structure of the PSES..................................................................................... 237

Decision-making processes used by KREG ....................................................................... 239

The decision-making processes used by the PSES board of directors ................................ 241

The effects of decision-making processes .......................................................................... 244

Teaching and Learning Materials in the PSES Schools.......................................................... 245

The Education Border Project ............................................................................................. 247

Processes Used to Develop Materials ..................................................................................... 252

Participation and the curricular development process ........................................................ 252

Drafting the modules............................................................................................................... 264

The Final Product: EBP Modules ........................................................................................... 268

EBP modules in practice ..................................................................................................... 269

Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 272

CHAPTER 7: DURABLE SOLUTIONS ................................................................................... 275

Third Country Resettlement .................................................................................................... 279

Burma re-enters the international community ........................................................................ 282

Repatriation ............................................................................................................................. 284

What Repatriation means to the GRUM ................................................................................. 285

What Repatriation Means to the International Community .................................................... 287

Regularizing relations ......................................................................................................... 287

Re-establishing trade and diplomatic relationships ............................................................ 288

Repatriation and the RTG ....................................................................................................... 291

Military coup in Thailand ................................................................................................... 291

Refugees and Repatriation ...................................................................................................... 292

Ethnic minorities and ceasefires ......................................................................................... 294

Repatriation and Fractures within Groups .............................................................................. 300

Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 303

CHAPTER 8: EDUCATION SYSTEM CONVERGENCE ...................................................... 305

Educational Contexts and Refugee Repatriation .................................................................... 306

International involvement in Burma’s education system.................................................... 307

CESR Phase 2 ......................................................................................................................... 310

The National Network for Education Reform .................................................................... 314

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Participation and Ethnic Minority Peoples ............................................................................. 317

Convergence (Sept. 2013-May 2014) ..................................................................................... 320

Annual KREG Teacher Training ............................................................................................ 323

Creating meanings for convergence.................................................................................... 334

Convergence Meetings in Myo Sai ......................................................................................... 337

Heterogeneity ...................................................................................................................... 343

Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 347

CHAPTER 9: CONCLUSION ................................................................................................... 350

APPENDIX 1: ............................................................................................................................. 358

BIBLIOGRAPHY ....................................................................................................................... 359

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CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION

After working as a teacher-trainer in a development setting (Papua New Guinea) and in

an emergency setting (Thailand), I went to work in a post-conflict setting (Liberia). It was in

Liberia where I first suspected there was more to education in development and emergency

settings than I had realized. In Monrovia, the capital of Liberia, I learned that my specific

assignment was to do exactly what I had done in Thailand: train teacher trainers to use learner-

centered pedagogy to enhance literacy and numeracy. It was while I was working in rural

Liberia that I began to wonder if learner-centered pedagogy and other “international

development best practices” truly could be best for Liberian refugees returning home, for

Burmese refugees in a protracted refugee setting in Thailand, and for financially impoverished

Papua New Guineans living in rural areas. These three cultures and settings are very different,

yet international best practices claimed there was one best way to teach all of these children.

This dissertation examines how and why education policies in the refugee camps along

the Thailand-Burma border were created and implemented. Current discussions about what

drives education policy tend to assume an emergency or a development setting. In this

dichotomy, refugees and refugee camps represent an emergency setting, however, in this

study, which examines a protracted refugee situation, it is a refugee education system that

raises questions about the international development approach.

Using a vertical case study model, this dissertation examines these education policies

across the historical, socio-political, and geographic axes to address the research question:

“How do international organizations and the experts they employ, work with state and local-

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level participants to (re)design a national education system for Myanmar that is responsive to

and inclusive of ethnic minorities?”. Drawing on Anderson-Levitt’s (2003) work, this

dissertation provides another example of the impact the level of abstraction has on

convergence versus divergence of educational policy.

How are international best practices and policy recommendations understood and

addressed in state-level education systems? How are global policies modified in practice to

make sense in local contexts? This dissertation builds on this line of inquiry in the fields of

comparative and international education and the anthropology of education (e.g., Stambach

(2003), Steiner-Khamsi (2006), Kendall (2007), and Vavrus and Bartlett (2013)) by examining the

processes of and tensions surrounding the introduction of international policies and education

organizations in the context of an ethnic minority group involved in a protracted refugee

setting. The refugees in this story are attempting to create an education system that meets

their needs, international norms, and host country demands, and that can play a key role in

their gaining political representation in the international community. After almost 20 years of

system formation, changes in the political situation have resulted in the Government of the

Republic of the Union of Myanmar (GRUM) and international experts shifting focus from

forming and maintaining the system to incorporate the camp-based education system into the

re-forming Myanmar education system.

By examining both the camp-based education system and the process undertaken to

attempt to integrating it into the GRUM state-level education system, this dissertation

scrutinizes the processes through which international experts first support local participants in

creating camp-based education systems that fuel Karen nationalism, and then shift their

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attention to shaping a national education system in Myanmar, as it emerges from more than 60

years of civil conflict. The dissertation thus scrutinizes the consequences of current

international development education processes of education system-building, which do not

acknowledge or address divergent claims of nationhood or human rights, or definitions of

socio-cultural success that are based on diverging criteria for the main actors involved in the

refugee and GRUM education systems. These current international development education

processes, which are based on “world society” norms and understandings, severely limit the

membership potential of the Karen in the international community. When the GRUM was not

conforming to world society norms, the international community embraced the Karen and

empowered them to create their own education system. However, despite the Karen’s

relationships with international actors (and perhaps because, in part, of their deeply limited

mobility), when the GRUM began to conform to world society norms, the international

community withdrew much of its support of the Karen and began to back the GRUM, an

established member of the international community.

To this end, the dissertation research focused data collection and analysis on Karen

understandings of and desires for refugee camp-based education, the technical assistance

offered (and the challenges left unaddressed) by the INGO experts at different points in the

history of the Karen education system, Karen responses to these different forms of

development “partnerships” and processes, and the consequences of these interactions on the

shape and purpose of camp-based education.

Education in the refugee camps along the Thailand-Burma1 border is shaped by and

1 For years, there has been controversy over whether to call the country Burma or Myanmar. In this dissertation, I

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reflects the different visions of schooling held by actors in diverse political positions in the

region. While Karen (an ethnic minority in Burma) actors are fully focused on creating an

education system that will build the Karen nation, all other actors, including international

organizations (donors, international nongovernmental organizations (INGOs), and international

development experts), the Royal Thai Government, and the Burmese government do not share

this goal, and in some cases, actively oppose it. Indeed, these other actors’ goals for refugee

education in the camps are quite different, from creating an education system that will enhance

individual refugees’ employability and economic status, to fulfilling individuals’ rights to

education as per international agreements signed. I will argue in this dissertation that

international actors generally focus on the role of state-provided education in enhancing the

capacities and rights of the individual, whereas the Karen focus on the role of community-

provided education in the evolution of group culture and identity, and the potential role of

Karen education in supporting group nationalist claims on the international stage. These

different foci have unintended consequences on the potential for peace, reconciliation, and

repatriation.

Place, Home, and Education

Researchers including Escobar (2001), Pinedo-Vasquez (1996), and Duncan (2013) have

examined the links between culture and place. They argue that place is a multidimensional

use the

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concept that includes social, political, temporal, and spatial aspects, and the linking of culture

and place “. . . must be understood as complex and contingent results of ongoing historical and

political processes” (Gupta & Ferguson, 1997 p. 4; see also Hidalgo & Hernandez, 2001; Orr

2013). By this definition of place, culture and place are linked; when place changes, so does

culture, and vice versa.

Place refers to all of the external circumstances and experiences that shape a

personality. In contrast, home refers to internal factors such as feelings of belonging and

identity that are based on external factors including culture, language, and experiences shared

by the members of a bounded, sovereign group. Home includes the physical, political, and

social facets of a geographically-specific place, and one’s feelings about her relationship to this

place and its people; in other words, home is created by combining place and identity.

Research has shown the importance of understanding refugees’ conceptions of home in

relation to the analytic dimensions associated with place described previously. As Black (2001)

pointed out, the loss of one’s home leads to a decrease in security and confidence in one’s

identity. As the time of displacement increases, the conception of home, and therefore identity,

changes. Malkki (1995) examined these changes and the effect of the political and spatial

context of displacement on the re-creation of Burundian refugees’ identities. She noted the role

of formal and informal education in the refugees’ production and reproduction of their own

spatial, temporal, political, and social history, and how this reconstructed history impacted the

way in which refugees identified themselves relative to others. She argued that the Hutu

refugees in the camp extracted meaning from their situation, and that the camp became

physically and politically symbolic for imagining the community; “the Hutu refugees in the camp

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located their identities within their very displacement” (p. 16).

Similarly, these (re)created identities served as the impetus for claims by the Karen in

the Thai refugee camps to be recognized as an ethnic and political group completely separate

from Burma. These claims were, as I will show, largely embodied in and through the education

system that the Karen established in the refugee camps. The refugee camp schools would both

assure the appropriate transmission of Karen identity—as it was (re)constituted in the refugee

camps—and provide the refugee community with a small group of educated Karen who could

serve as go-betweens on the international stage, as the Karen tried to convince the

international community of their right to nationhood, if not statehood.

Despite the importance of understanding how refugees conceptualize home and

identity, and despite evidence of how this conceptualization changes over time, particularly in

places like refugee camps, the nation-building aspects of refugee education, which in this case

were determined by the refugees themselves and based on refugee conceptions of home, are

for the most part wholly ignored in refugee education programming, largely in favor of an

approach that reifies globalized, depoliticized “best practices” focused on “technical” issues

such as learner-centered pedagogy, curricular layout, and infrastructure. I argue that by

ignoring the nation-building aspects of education, international organizations working in

diverse emergency and development settings create an environment in which refugee

populations can imagine alternative—in this case nationalist—visions of home that lie in direct

conflict with the state system around which the international community is organized. This

creates an environment that may foster civil unrest upon refugees’ return, as the refugees’

vision of home is not in complete conformity with the state government’s (and thus the

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international community’s) vision for post-conflict countries.

This dissertation examines relationships and interactions across sociopolitical levels to

elucidate the origins and consequences of changes to educational policies and practices over

time and space. Specifically, this dissertation examines the construction, functioning, and

consequences of an educational system in which multiple groups worked together to create an

educational system that reflected and supported multiple goals and purposes. Using

participation as a lens through which to examine interactions between local, state, and

international levels of education policy and practice, this dissertation examines the effects of

the resulting camp-based education system on refugee discourses, imaginaries, and practices

related to nation-building; and then the consequences of this on current international refugee

repatriation efforts.

One of my goals in the dissertation is to bring research to bear on a question that is

currently paramount in international development efforts in the region: “How do international

organizations and the experts they employ, work with state and local-level participants to

(re)design a national education system for Myanmar that is responsive to and inclusive of

ethnic minorities?”. To address this question, I ask the following subquestions of the current

education system: “How and why does the form of participation change as the purpose of

education changes?” and “How does the camp-based education system, which was shaped in a

political context that recognized camp residents and their claims of oppression as legitimate,

affect or influence repatriation, which is based on international recognition of Myanmar as a

legitimate member of the world community and the refugees as citizens of Myanmar who are

obligated to return?”. Analysis of the data gathered from the examination of these questions

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provides insights into the complexities of critical development along the Thailand-Burma border

and potential strategies for dealing with these complexities.

Policy in practice. The relationships that I examine among international, state-level, and

local stakeholders involved in the constitution of education in the refugee camps are largely

enacted through the development and implementation of international development education

policies and their associated development programs. As policies move across these levels,

various interpretations of policy are proposed and implemented; the results of policy in

practice (Sutton & Levinson, 2001) both influence and reflect the relationships among the

different policy stakeholders. Interpretation and implementation of policy in the refugee camps

reflects a process that distills stories, concerns, and concepts provided by locals into technical

jargon and best practices at the international level; international discourse is in turn evident at

the local level in the form of policies and implementation recommendations that are once again

reinterpreted and implemented by local groups (Klees, et al., 2012; Samoff, 2006; Steiner-

Khamsi, 2006).

The process of translating development discourse, policy, and programming into local

speech and actions, and vice versa, is being researched and documented by scholars examining

processes of participation in the development arena (e.g., Wilkinson, 2009; Kapoor, 2004; G.

Anderson, 1998). However, relatively few studies examine the epistemological assumptions

made during these translations and how these assumptions may or may not then be

incorporated into international development education programming. As Samoff indicated,

“the problem here . . . is the internalization of relationships and understandings of the larger

environment, the internationalization of ways of knowing, that has largely been excluded from

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the analytic and policy agenda” (2006, p. 58). It is the assumptions, often based on the

international system privileging recognized states, made by ID actors and assumptions made by

minority groups with limited experience with the ID actors and the international community

they represent, that cause problems in the translational process.

Background

Northeastern Burma is one of the most linguistically and ethnically diverse areas in the

world and is home to one of the world’s longest-running civil conflicts. This conflict began

shortly after Burma’s independence from Britain in 1947 and continues today. In 1886, British

colonialists annexed ethnic minority groups and their territory into the state they called

“Burma”, in reference to the ethnic majority Bama people. After Burma gained its

independence, the British handed over control of the country to the Bama people, who used

the borders drawn by the British to define their country. The Bama people understood the

ethnic minority people and their territories to be part of their state. However, the ethnic

minority groups, including the Shan, Karen, Kayah, Mon, Kachin, Wa, and others who lived in

the territory now claimed as Burma did not consider themselves part of the new Burma; rather,

they considered the territory in which they lived to be under the control of ethnic minority

governing bodies, as was the case prior to British colonization. The Bama and the ethnic

governing bodies claimed authority over the same territory and people, which resulted in civil

conflict.

Refugee camp creation. Civil conflicts between the tatmadaw (the Bama military) and

the ethnic minority groups began after Burma’s independence and continue today; as a result

of these conflicts, camps for displaced ethnic minority people from Burma were established on

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both sides of the Thailand-Burma border (see Appendix 1). A protracted refugee situation

resulted, and the camps have been in place for more than 30 years. A collaboration between

the refugees and international humanitarian aid providers resulted in the development of a

camp-based education system, the Karen Education Project, over twenty years ago, before

education in refugee camps was a well-established aspect of international humanitarian aid.

The Karen Education Project was ostensibly established for all ethnic minorities,

however as the name suggests, it favored the Karen ethnic group. It was established to add

structure to camp life and to ensure that children born and raised in the camps would have a

sense of their ethnic identity and would be able and willing to direct the evolution of Karen

culture when a durable solution to the refugee camps was found and the displaced people were

able to leave the camps.

In 2010, after more than 60 years of conflict and almost 30 years of international

isolation, the Burmese government initiated reforms that were heralded by the international

community as steps toward democracy and development. This resulted in increased political

and economic interactions between Burma (now internationally recognized as “Myanmar”) and

the rest of the international community. Economic development and compliance with

international norms for domestic governance quickly became the central issues in these

relationships. The Government of the Republic of the Union of Myanmar (GRUM) began

working with international experts in 2011 to increase Myanmar’s economic and political

influence on the international stage. These efforts included restructuring the previously-

neglected state education system (Lall & South, 2012).

The political changes in Myanmar have ignited advocacy for refugee repatriation. This

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advocacy comes from three sources: foreign governments, which seek to increase economic

and political ties with Myanmar by decreasing economic obligations to the refugee camps and

augmenting international perceptions of the GRUM’s legitimacy; the refugee camps’ host

government, Thailand, which aims to remove the refugees from within its borders; and the

GRUM, which is working toward the foreign perception of compliance with international

conventions, including the Human Rights Convention and the Convention on the Rights of the

Child. Foreign perceptions of the GRUM’s stability and democratic transformation would be

greatly enhanced by the repatriation of refugees from Thailand. Conversations with multiple

refugees, however, indicate that they are deeply skeptical of repatriation. As a result, in 2014,

discussions of involuntary repatriation were becoming regular fare along the border (UNHCR,

2012; Saw Yan Naing, 2014).

Repatriation. Discussions of forced repatriation are politically possible because the

notion of “voluntariness” is not mentioned in the 1951 Refugee Convention. The convention

calls for the receiving state to provide a safe return, which scholars such as Goodwin-Gill (1996)

and Chimni (2004) understand as an objective determination of safety that does not take into

account the subjectivity of the refugees affected. “Once the receiving State determines that

protection in the country of origin is viable, it is entitled to withdraw refugee status”

(Hathaway, 1997; cited in Chimni, 2004, p. 60).

A key component of the argument for forced repatriation is an understanding of “home”

as being the same as the borders of established states, as opposed to a specific geographical,

socio-cultural, religious, familial and/or political economic ecology. This is important, because it

allows “objective determinations” of safety to not examine too carefully the situations existing

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on the ground, in the exact areas from which refugees originally came. Thus, key issues such as

land ownership, significant changes in local socio-political structures, social services, economic

opportunities, or localized violence for returnees do not need to be examined carefully in

international determinations.

This issue is widespread in many areas of longstanding conflict that the international

community would like to see resolved. For example, services and funding to Somali refugees in

the Dadaab camp in Kenya are being reduced as services inside Somalia are increasing;

humanitarian aid (and its withdrawal) is being used as a tool to facilitate repatriation and/or

displacement. This is problematic for multiple reasons. First, in a protracted situation such as

this, there is no clear answer as to where a family could or should return. Some people were

born in the camp and have never been to Somalia. Additionally, as Horst & Nur (2016) note,

lived experience in a region that is experiencing ongoing “violence and conflict that are neither

war nor peace, neither criminal violence nor political violence” is not reflected in official

ceasefires or treaties. While there are officially “liberated areas” and “safe” parts of the

country, low-grade conflict continues. Unfortunately, official documents and government

reports that downplay these realities for political purposes are often used by funders and

organizations, particularly those that manage their operations remotely, to determine the

location and focus of aid and to call for repatriation even in the face of refugee concerns about

safety.

Education. An integral component of the discussions surrounding repatriation to Burma

was the need to “blend” the education systems in the camps with the Myanmar national

education system. The Myanmar education system has been devastated by decades of neglect,

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and the GRUM welcomed INGOs to assist in reforming the national education system by

“modernizing” it and ensuring that it conformed to international norms of education system

characteristics, including content areas, pedagogy, and student assessment of learning. In

response, in 2011, education experts from around the globe flocked to Myanmar to assist the

GRUM in (re)building Myanmar’s education system. In addition to providing technical support

for revising the national curriculum, international organizations also offered technical support

to the GRUM for planning how to incorporate the camp education systems that had been

designed for and by ethnic minority groups, including the Karen Education Project, into the

GRUM’s national education system.

In 2011, the international community and the elected Burmese government began to

map out a new education plan for Myanmar. As I describe below, the “blended” educational

plan agreed upon by all actors involved in this activity is actually a nationalist plan, which

argues for Burmese language of instruction, codifies the importance of credentials recognized

by the GRUM for accessing primary and secondary education, and provides for the majority of

the curricula to be state-determined and nonnegotiable (GRUM, 2014; fieldnotes, May 1, 2014).

Notably absent from these negotiations and agreements are ethnic minority stakeholders,

including the Karen.

Meanwhile, back in the camps, the Karen were standing in opposition to the idea of

repatriation for reasons described in greater detail below. The Karen did, however, engage with

international actors in discussions about what the blending of the camp-based education

system and the newly-(re)forming Myanmar national education system might look like. The

Karen advocated for the camp-based educational approach to Karen nation-building to be

24

legitimated in the new GRUM education system, whereas international actors that had been

supporting the camp-based education in the past were now politically aligned with the GRUM,

and therefore supported the proposed Burmese nationalist form of education.

The Karen understood this reversal of policy as an inconsistency and possibly as a

betrayal. However, many of the international actors understood their policies as being tied to

educational best practices and politically neutral curricula, and saw their support of

internationally-recognized governing bodies (i.e., the GRUM and the Thai government) as

consistent, logical, and following the historical pattern of interactions among international

development aid organizations and the states in which they work.

Education and international development. After World War II, decolonization took

place around the world, with many countries, including Burma, receiving independence. The

international community recognized education as a vehicle for state-level economic

development, as a fundamental human right to be facilitated by state governments, and as a

mechanism for instilling a national identity among citizens that inspires loyalty to, and thus

maintenance of, the state.

During and after decolonization, international development education assistance often

promoted the use of the dominant elite language in the primary and secondary schools, with an

international (usually the colonial) language (e.g., English) added in secondary and highlighted

in post-secondary schools. Education projects for international development aimed to

strengthen the role of schooling in nationalist citizenship projects; this led them to rarely

acknowledge or take into account the variety of ethnic groups within the territory claimed by

the state, focusing instead on internationally recognized governing bodies (usually centralized

25

state governments). From the 1960s, international development organizations considered the

political state to be the cornerstone of the natural order, and in doing so, they often conflated

the notions of nation-building and state-building, leading to the dominance of one ethnic group

over others. In most cases, the post-colonial dominant group was the group that had originally

been favored during the colonial era—in Burma’s case, the Bama. These assumptions, and

international development organizations’ comfort with conflating nationalist and statist goals,

has had significant impacts on the rights and experiences of ethnic minorities in many

postcolonial states.

Over time, as the Cold War heated up, bilateral funders increasingly saw education as a

way to promote their political ideology through development aid to newly independent

countries. Promoting certain political ideologies via national education systems could be done

by tying aid to curricular, administrative, and teaching practices that promoted communism or

democracy and identified various political states as either friends or foes. These educational

tactics were put in place to foster students’ political belief systems and (thus) encourage the

appropriate kind (e.g., capitalist or communist) of economic growth. Thus, bilateral

organizations involved in the Cold War provided funding to developing countries to assist them

in aligning their political and economic systems, and thus citizens’ daily market interactions,

with either the Soviet or the Western bloc (Escobar, 1995; Goldman, 2005; Tikly, 2004; Truman,

1947).

If international and state actors construct an education system that produces elites

and a socio-economic structure that privileges current state powerholders (often themselves

those empowered through the process of colonization), or that cut out portions of the

26

country’s citizens, this implicates the development organization(s) in fostering and/or

exacerbating ethnic tensions within the state. Such steps were often taken, however, in the

name of nation-building, and more particularly, in the name of building particular kinds of

nation-states that aligned with donors’ interests.

This brief background of the camp-based education system intimates the differences in

how actors understand the various purposes of education. The Karen refugees, the state

governments (RTG and GRUM), and the international actors have different stances and

understandings of how the blended education system should reshape the cultural reproduction

and aspirations for political self-determination of the Karen. In many ways, these varying

understandings mirror the significant differences of opinion that exist between international,

GRUM, Thai, and refugee actors’ sense of what repatriation should mean and do to the Karen.

The following section takes a deeper look at three purposes of education (economic

development, human rights fulfillment, and nation-building) that play greater or lesser roles in

these different actors’ discourses, policies, and practices at different times. Examining each

actors’ stances through these lenses helps explicate the similarities and differences among their

stances that we will later observe arising across different historical periods, and helps explicate

the power or tenuousness of different educational purposes on the international stage—where,

currently, economic development, human rights fulfillment, and nation-building are all

legitimated in statist terms that leave groups like the Karen in a deeply uncomfortable position.

Education Policy Agendas

Educational policies reflect competing agendas related to the purpose and desired

outcomes of education. These agendas include education for the purpose of economic

27

development, nation-building, state-building, human rights fulfillment, and the intellectual and

moral development of children (Serpell, 2010; Robeyns, 2006; Ansell & Lindvall, 2013). These

competing agendas are connected, and they work together; however, highlighting one and

backgrounding the others leads to significant variations in policy recommendations.

Based on the dissertation research, discourses and practices related to three purposes

of education—human capital development for the purpose of economic development, human

rights fulfillment for the purpose of encouraging a particular notion of social justice, and nation-

building for the purpose of perpetuating the nation-state system—form the foundation for

analyzing the stances of the key actors in the Thai-Burma education arena. All three of these

purposes are, in practice, statist in their orientation, because of the international communities’,

and the GRUM and Thai government’s, investment in the maintenance of the current

international state system. Using these agendas as a loose framework through which to engage

and analyze action, this dissertation examines how participants and experts at various policy

levels understand and enact their roles in informing education policy in the border area and in

the new Burmese state.

Three Purposes of Education

The purposes of education in emergency and development settings are context

dependent, and official purposes change over time, particularly if and as the balance between a

focus on emergency aid and development aid shifts (Chabbott, 2015). Education in emergency

settings focuses on the immediate health and well-being of individual students and their

families. Education provides students with immediate physical protection, short-term life-

saving information (e.g., how to recognize and avoid landmines), and medium-term life skills

28

(e.g., why boiling drinking water is important) during the initial stages of a complex emergency

(Price, 2013). In the later stages of an emergency and in development settings, education

serves purposes that include economic development at the population level, fulfillment of

individual-level human rights, and nation-building to (re)enforce the political state. Education in

development settings thus focuses on both individual and community/national-level

development, and is often tied to models of educational outcomes that assume (or attempt to

support) functioning labor markets and individual earning opportunities.

Protracted refugee situations are unstable situations with characteristics that move

between those of emergency settings and development settings, depending on the political

situation. The following section examines three educational purposes that are often activated

in post-conflict and development settings, but that are made tenuous in refugee settings

exactly because of the statist claims upon which each rests: economic development at the

individual and societal levels (which assumes functional labor markets and some level of

freedom of movement for trade—denied refugees), fulfillment of individual human rights

(which assumes an international actor like the UNHCR fulfills these claims in the short-term

absence of a state; this was not the case in the Thai refugee camps, where the UN had no

jurisdiction), and nation-building (which conflates nation- and state-building in ways that the

very nature of refugee camps disentangles or composes in new ways) (see Anderson-Levitt,

2003).

An underlying rationale and explanation for how each of these models of educational

purpose will be utilized throughout this dissertation is provided. Each of these educational goals

are present in almost all current education systems; however, various actors highlight certain

29

goals and background others. I argue that when the purposes valued by different groups

leading educational planning and implementation diverge, or when the conflation of statism

and the purposes vary across groups, there are intended and unintended consequences that

are shaped in part by the power and authority held by the disparate groups.

Nation-building. The adherence to the idea of the political state as the primary unit of

international (educational) analysis reflects a key pillar of the United Nations Charter, which

indicates that “The Organization is based on the principle of the sovereign equality of all its

Members” (United Nations Charter, Article 2). The land and people inside the border and the

body that governs them make up a state. The state’s territory and its political leader(s) are

recognized by other states and have the capacity to engage in diplomatic relations. To be

recognized internationally, the state must be able to carry out diplomatic relationships with

others. Some have argued that the state must be able to show a form of government that is

stable and acceptable to other states (Philpott, 2010). Others, however, have disputed this,

arguing that international recognition may depend less on the quality or characteristics of the

state, and more on the capacity of more powerful states to utilize the existing government

structures toward their own ends (e.g., a state that regularly violates the rights of its

minoritized citizens may be recognized internationally if other states are content with their

capacity to engage in natural resource extraction) (Ferguson, 2006).

In contrast to a state, a nation can be defined by its people and their cultural, ancestral,

historical, or linguistic similarities. As a cultural entity, a nation does not require external

recognition or the capacity to have diplomatic relationships with others (B. Anderson, 2006;

Gellner, 1983; Global Policy Forum, 2014). Education for nationhood, within a nation, entails

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focusing the curricula (and pedagogy) on aspects of culture, such as language, shared culture,

and tradition, that unify members of the nation and separate them from others with whom

they may share a state border.

Ideally in the current world order, a nation and a state will overlap geographically, which

increases the chances of the citizens of a state having a shared culture and vision for the future

and the political capacity to engage with other states to promote this vision. A nation-state is

both a politico-economic system and a cultural project that creates “a system of cultural

signification” (Bhabha, 1997, in Blommaert, 1999), “a powerful regime of order and knowledge

that is at once politico-economic, historical, cultural, aesthetic, and cosmological” (Malkki,

1995, p. 5). In a nation-state, education for nationhood entails highlighting aspects of culture,

such as language and the meaning of citizenship, that unify the people living (legally) within the

borders of the nation/state. When these perfectly overlap, there is no differentiation between

state and national citizenship, language, culture, or cosmology.

There are many more instances in the world, however, where the overlap between

nation and state is far from absolute. States often house more than one nation, and nations are

often housed in more than one state. In these cases, state authorities often draw on

governmental interventions to re-enforce the behavior of the dominant culture/nation. The

ideologies and social norms taught in the schools reflect the state’s dominant culture and

require minority citizens to adopt, or at least become conversant in, the dominant culture’s way

of life. These interventions include “methods of examination and evaluation, pedagogic,

therapeutic, and punitive techniques of reformation and cure; architectural forms in which

interventions take place (e.g., classrooms and prisons); and professional vocabularies” (Inda,

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2005, p. 9). These interventions re-enforce the concept of the nation-state, theoretically

containing a homogenous people. The governing bodies of the state define chaos and order

within its territory and develop laws to enforce these behaviors in spaces as diverse as family

homes, classrooms, prisons, and workplaces. In doing so, the state decides and normalizes who

is included and who is excluded, who is legitimate and who is not. As Bauman (2004) indicated,

the concept of “a people” makes sense only within the confines of citizenship, and despite the

historical and contemporary strength of national projects, the world’s current primary mode of

internationally-legitimized citizenship is state-based.

While nations have existed for a long time, the political state is a relatively new

invention. The world was organized into states after WWI and states became the primary unit

of analysis after WWII and decolonization. States generally don’t map onto nations in ex-

colonies, so many postcolonial states adopt particularly robust nation-building approaches. The

goal of nation-building by state actors is to foster in the collective the belief in a shared vision of

belonging and the future and to build the collective capacity to achieve it. These approaches

aim to create, from the state, a nation-state that nurtures a robust notion of

citizenship/belonging. To do so, states often impose one national culture on the entire state

(Paris, 2002). In imposing a single national culture, states often enact policies to hinder would-

be challengers, such as allowing voting and other political engagement to take place only in the

dominant language, restricting economic opportunities for certain segments of the population,

and reorganizing resources to limit access. As Povinelli (2011) noted, the state demands much

greater sacrifices from those who can never fully belong/be right in this (nationalized) state-

building effort.

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International development organizations focus on the state as the only legitimate

structure in the international governance order. Thus, though the relationship between

neoliberal undertakings and support for the state is complex, international organizations focus

almost exclusively on state-building (or reforming). Indeed, international conceptions of the

state constitute as well the social structures that make up the non-state: not nations, but “civil

society” and its organizations. Paris (2002) and Ottaway (2002) argue that state-building

assistance provided by international development organizations perpetuates a particular vision

of a functioning state that is based on liberal democracy (itself a particular nationalist model)

and market-oriented economics.

To create and maintain internal stability, the governing bodies of 21st century states are

encouraged to strategically use “institutions, procedures, actions, and reflections” to foster

self-governance in individuals and collectives, thereby protecting the welfare of the individuals

and the group (Fassin, 2011, p. 214; Hippler, 2006). Authorities of the political state often use

nation-building strategies, in addition to state-building strategies, to create a cultural and

political border that works to prevent members from leaving and “others” from entering (B.

Anderson, 2006; see also Hyun, 2014).

Despite these efforts to merge nation- and state-building, scholars such as Walker

(1994) point out that state-building and nation-building can be at odds with each other. In the

true sense of the word, nation-building is the process of supporting the growth and strength of

cultural identity. However, the term “nation-building” is very commonly used to refer to a

process of cultural homogenization within a state (that is, “state-building”). De facto, then,

when international organizations talk about nation-building, they are almost always referring to

33

the process of using state power and authority via institutions such as education to create a

cultural identity that relates to the particular territory of the state. This is particularly evident in

examples such as international support for “nation-building” in Iraq and Turkey, which have

been directly oppositional to the nation-building efforts of the Kurds. “Nationalism”, in

common international parlance, is thus expected to be a feeling of loyalty to the political state

rather than to the socio-cultural nation, and nation-building is a process of cultural assimilation

rather than strengthening loyalty to a particular nation within a state (Scott, 2007; Hippler,

2004).

Walker argued that increased access to and efficiency of communications and

transportation have enhanced awareness of individuals, both of their difference from their

immediate community and their affinity with a diaspora. For example, as access to media and

travel increases the awareness of among ethnic minority members who formerly were

relatively isolated, so does their awareness of people belonging to the same ethnicity who live

in other places. This results in an increased feeling of loyalty to one’s ethic group and one’s

nation, as opposed to the political, geographically bordered state. This may be particularly true

for groups that are minorities in the state, and whose culture is therefore not the majoritized

culture of the state. As most states, including Burma, contain multiple nations, and “[S]ince the

transfer of primary allegiance from these nations to the state is generally considered the sine

qua non of successful integration, the true goal [of state-building] is not ‘nation-building’ but

‘nation destroying’” (Walker, 1994, p. 42).

In states, then, there is often a distinct tension between education for nation-building

and education for state-building. A state-level education program highlights the dominant

34

culture, often meeting international best practices related to “nation-building” and economic

development by doing so. It aims to provide the various groups inside the state borders with

common ideologies and social norms. These ideologies and social norms may not directly align

with those of the various nations within the state. As such, tensions are often produced when

nations within a state attempt to create an education system for nation-building.

Education for nation- and state-building. The role of state-building versus nation-

building in education have deeply different and sometimes oppositional meanings for the

various groups along the Thailand-Burma border. Three of the competing and overlapping goals

surrounding the governance of the territory along the border are: 1. The goal of the Karen

people in the camps to build their own nation-state; 2. The GRUM’s goal of a Myanmar unified

culturally and territorially, which includes the Karen territory; and 3. The Thai government’s

goal to maintain its territory and unify its people via Thai culture, despite Karen claims to part

of the territory under Thai control. The Thai and the Myanmar governments understand a

nation to be defined and represented by the political state, whereas the Karen understand the

political state to be defined and represented by the nation.

Layered into the various goals regarding territory, governance and recognition, are the

assumptions made by multilateral organizations and INGOs about peace, reconciliation, and the

meaning of (education) development. These assumptions are based on the conception of the

state as “geographic containers for ‘societies’-that is coherent, holistic entities in which all

individuals were located” (Wallerstein, 2004, p. 4; see also Wallerstein, 2004b). Many INGOs

understand the state as the primary political unit that is responsible for fulfilling citizens’

human rights, developing markets and economic opportunity, and maintaining peace within its

35

borders. Since the 1990’s many INGOs have operated under the assumption that refugees are

citizens of the country from which they fled and have taken a “homeland oriented approach” to

repatriation2 (Black, 2001; cf. Rahman, 2010). INGOs rarely address nation-building per se;

rather they concentrate on features they perceive to be common around the world, including

the role of the state in the epistemic community, the state’s responsibility to its citizens, and

the desire for an absence of armed conflict within state borders.

The state-level education system in Burma promotes Bama culture, including Burmese

language and social norms, which are largely based on Buddhism. The newly-forming education

system in Burma also embraces international development principles (see below), including

recommended content and pedagogy. Given the involvement of international organizations in

the (re)formation of the Burmese education system (see Ch. 8), there is little doubt that a

primary purpose of the education system is to lend credibility to the Burmese government on

the international stage, while promoting Bama culture as a unifying culture for all of Burma.

In contrast, the Karen education system works to foster Karen culture, including Karen

language and social norms, which are based on traditional Karen culture and, to some extent,

Christianity. The camp-based education system also embraces international development

principles, including recommended content and pedagogy; however, the teachers and

administrators indicate that the primary purpose of the Karen education system is to foster

self-determination for the Karen people, a necessary part of which is gaining legitimacy in the

world community (see Keohane, 1971; Spivak, 1999).

2 The Rohingya refugee crisis has tested the homeland approach, and multilateral organizations are beginning to perceive a problem with their assumption of citizenship. For more information, see Rahman (2010).

36

Economic development. Economic growth fueled by human capital development, or the

increase of market productivity at the individual level that results in an increase of the gross

domestic product (GDP), is one part of development economics. The World Bank claims that

“Economic growth is a central part of economic development. When national income grows,

real people benefit” (World Bank, 2016).

In 1983 and 1988, Sen agreed that economic growth is a part of economic development;

however, he added an important caveat: examining development economics through two

concurrent lenses, aggregate supply (e.g., GNP) coupled with wealth distribution, was an

inadequate method of determining the standard of living experienced by a country’s poorest

people. The concept of development includes factors such as “the achievement of a better life”;

thus, Sen argued that the analysis of development must include the nature of the life led by

people in a development setting (Sen, 1988 p. 15). As such, he argued that there was need to

take into account the political policies and systems in place that determined an individual’s

access to commodities (e.g., roads, education, healthcare) that would enhance their standard

of living. He noted that development economics involve both quantitative and qualitative

changes in the economy, including areas such as development of human capital, critical

infrastructure, regional competitiveness, environmental sustainability, social inclusion, health,

safety, literacy, and other initiatives.

Sen (1983, 1988) reminded us that an equitable distribution of wealth coupled with

political policies and systems that facilitate access to public and private goods is necessary for

citizens to benefit and states to “develop” beyond a simple increase in national income. Sen’s

important correction has been useful both in its effort to reshape global definitions and

37

measures of development, and in the framework it provides for looking beyond a simplistic

model of growth that assumes state economic growth is the same as state-wide (equitable)

development.

One way to foster economic development that focuses on an overall increase of supply

at the aggregate level, equitable distribution of wealth within the population, and political

policies and systems that ensure equitable access to public and private goods, is assurance that

all individuals have an opportunity for a quality education (Dreze & Sen, 2002).

Education for economic development involves a variety of approaches.3 This

dissertation focuses on one of the most common approaches, human capital development

(HCD), which aims specifically at linking individual education to national economic growth. The

HCD approach posits that an increase in individuals’ human capital will lead to the state’s

increased economic well-being. To enhance well-being at all levels, HCD recommends investing

capital (including state capital) in the education of individuals, with the expectation that the

public cost of education (at least at the primary level) will be offset by an increase in an

individual’s productivity and subsequently larger production for the state (one important aspect

of the “public returns” to education). The HCD approach calculates that, in most countries,

investments in primary education and post-primary education are both cost-beneficial for

states; however, they have different rates of return and social benefits, and these also differ for

girls and boys (Psacharopoulos & Patrinos 2004).

Investment in primary education has implications for both the individual and for society

3 For more information about variations of the human capital approach (e.g., the innovation approach, knowledge transfer approach), see Earle, D. (2010).

38

in general. Researchers such as Thomas & Carl (2001), Mustaph & Abdullah (2004), and Brand

(2005) claim that a society with a higher literacy rate is better positioned to make the transition

from an agricultural economy to a knowledge economy as the global economy changes. This

transition leads to both private and public gains from educationally-enhanced worker

productivity. Post-primary education produces more gains for the individual and fewer gains for

society; thus, a number of international policies and recommendations (e.g., Global Partnership

for Education; Millennium Development Goals) promote states’ subsidizing primary education,

but not post-primary education (Psacharopoulos & Patrinos, 2004; cf. Robyens, 2006; Bartlett,

2007; Labaree, 1997; Heyneman, 2003; Klees et. al, 2012).

Both the mastery of skills and content and the evidence of this mastery are important

facets of human capacity development and economic growth, as employers rely on this

evidence to signal mastery (Castro, 2014; Bills, 2003). Credentials are symbols of the mastery of

content that are designed and implemented by an organization that meets a standard set by

the government or other accreditation body. To earn a credential, a student must meet

administrative requirements (e.g., attendance requirements) and content-mastery

requirements (e.g., exam scores). Nationally recognized credentials allow individuals who earn

a credential in one location to prove their competence to employers throughout the country or

the world, thereby giving the holder of the credential a competitive advantage in hiring and

employment situations.

Theoretically, the HCD approach values both formal and informal training that increases

an individual’s human capital; however, in practice, the HCD approach places greater

importance on formal training that results in a recognized credentialing system. Earning a

39

recognized certificate is often an important step toward improving one’s economic situation,

because the certificate is meaningful to employers.

The HCD approach to education is grounded in ideals of capitalism and individualism,

principles that are at the core of statism as understood by states that sponsor international

development. While individuals are expected to “invest” in their education so as to benefit

from the subsequent increase in their own human capital (the private returns to education), as

noted above, the state is also expected to invest in its human capital—its citizens. This

investment will grow the economy (as each individual’s increased productivity is harnessed by

the state through taxes, etc.), but it will also improve the quality (e.g., health, nutritional status,

fertility rates, etc.) of the state’s citizenry. The HCD approach is therefore, at least currently,

also a statist approach to education. However, the rationale for state investment in people is

not to form citizens or to fulfill a basic right of people living within a certain area: it is to invest,

with the return on investments used to bolster the state’s standing in the international

community, as well as its citizens’ wellbeing.

As one might expect, the notion of equal investment in all people is one that does not

hold up internally to the HCD logic. For example, as noted previously, HCD analysts have argued

that the state should invest more in girls than in boys, and should invest more in younger

children than older children. States utilizing a largely HCD approach have, over the years,

disinvested in minority students, rural students, students with disabilities, and many other

subgroups of students that the state does not necessarily perceive as providing a reasonable

return on investment. Thus, it is important to note that the logic of education for HCD is not, at

its root, a universalizing logic, and as such, the HCD logic has the potential to contribute to the

40

opening of a space in alternative education contexts for nationalist decision making.

Fulfillment of human rights. A human rights perspective on the purpose of education

focuses on the legal and moral right that all people have to access a quality basic education.

United Nations’ documents that lay out these rights include the Declaration of Human Rights,

Article 26, and the Convention on the Rights of the Child, Article 28. In these declarations,

individual citizens are the rights-holder, and the state is the duty-bearer. As UNICEF explains in

Tadros (2009):

Assumed in the rights-based approach, every human being is inherently a right holder who should enjoy universal human rights that must be guaranteed. By ratifying the different United Nations human rights treaties, states automatically assume the principal roles of guaranteeing these rights, or, according to the RBA language, the “principal duty bearers” (Ljungman, 2004).

Many human rights activists see education not only as an end in itself but also as a

vehicle that enables students to advocate for further fulfillment of rights (Robeyns, 2006;

Tomasevski, 2003). These activists use a human rights framework to judge educational

progress, often examining enrollment (and, increasingly, literacy) rates to determine success.

The human rights framework has faced a number of critiques. This framework does not

directly attend to environmental, cultural, or economic issues that may be confounders to the

human rights logic; it does not always in practice recognize calls for differentiation of

educational experience; nor does it address the processes and outcomes of educational

credentialing. Rather, the human rights approach is grounded in the belief that access to the

process of a formal or recognized education—usually one provided by the state for its

citizens—is a right; access to credentials, employment, or other economic results of education,

however, are not.

41

While it is incumbent upon governments to acknowledge the universal human rights

spelled out by the United Nations, the international community has limited influence on how

governments address the provision of those rights to those who reside inside its borders. In

Thailand, for example, residents are divided into three categories: citizens and documented

residents, documented refugees, and undocumented immigrants. While the people in these

three categories are entitled to the fulfillment of their human rights, how this is done can be

differentiated, depending on their category. For citizens and documented residents, the taxes

they pay support the educational opportunities afforded to them by the state. For documented

refugees, multilaterals organizations and INGOs ensure the fulfillment of their right to

education. Undocumented immigrants are considered to be in the country illegally and as a

result, according to the Thai government, they have forfeited their right to an education. The

division of responsibility for providing education for people in Thailand derives from

international definitions of states and citizenship and the way in which universal human rights

frameworks assume that when things are operating appropriately, states are duty-bearers.

Divisions of responsibility are also shaped by the resources available from different actors to

support the education of the different person-categories that are differentially defined within

state and international frameworks.

Human rights approaches are theoretically entirely universalist (every person would

have the right to the same quality/type of education); in practice, they are universalist only

within citizen categories, since states, not the international community, are duty bearers, and

citizens, not people, are rights-holder within a state. For stateless people or for people residing

outside of their official state of citizenship, the question of what rights they have and who is

42

responsible for fulfilling those rights, rapidly becomes tricky. To a greater or lesser extent, state

nation-building efforts can also, in practice, constrain the rights of minority ethnic groups to an

educational experience that highlight the dominant culture and, at best, background ethnic

minority cultures.

Another criticism of the human rights approach is that it can be interpreted legalistically

without consideration of moral rights. A legalistic interpretation defines human rights as a set

of measurable goals, e.g., everyone has the legal right to attend primary school, without taking

into account social context and moral rights. As a result, some argue that there is a tendency

for the international community to be overly prescriptive when recommending strategies and

measurements of rights fulfillment (Brown, 1997; Robeyns, 2006).

The United Nations interprets the human rights documents as meaning that every child

has the right to schooling, or formal education, including the right to a social and possibly

physical structure that places an individual in the role of teacher and multiple people in the role

of students. UNESCO’s Global Partnership and the Millennium Development Goals consider the

right to quality schooling to be fulfilled when a child has access to literacy and numeracy

content, taught with a learner-centered pedagogy (UNESCO, 2000; cf. Vavrus & Bartlett, 2012,

2013; Schweisfurth, 2011, 2013; Tabulawa, 2003).

From this perspective, the content considered essential for basic education is basic

literacy and numeracy. This content is viewed as necessary to achieve the goals of both the

human rights and HCD approaches. According to the human rights approach, a successful

education is indicated by an individual’s ability to know how to embody and to claim one’s own

human rights. In the present global society, basic literacy and numeracy are essential skills for

43

claiming rights. On the other hand, the HCD approach assesses the effectiveness of education

by examining the employability of individuals who complete a basic education. Presently,

employment in formal labor systems almost anywhere requires basic literacy and numeracy.

Learner-centered education (LCE) is also championed by both the human rights and the

HCD approaches. The LCE approach is amenable to measurable results (e.g., increased literacy

scores), using the cognitive narrative to prove its effectiveness in terms of the HCD model. It

also aligns with the human rights approach because it has the potential to fulfill an individual

learner’s rights to education in a more substantive and less legalistic manner (Robeyns, 2006;

Schweisfurth, 2013).

However, limited research has been done regarding the epistemology embedded in LCE

(Vavrus & Bartlett, 2013; Tikly, 2004; Tabulawa, 2003; Samoff, 1993). Tabulawa argued that,

“The pedagogy is an ideological outlook, a worldview intended to develop a preferred kind of

society and people. It is in this sense that it should be seen as representing a process of

Westernisation disguised as quality and effective teaching” (2003, p. 7).

Westernization, or international development culture more generally, requires both a

particular canon of content and a specific way of knowing, affecting a society’s “mindset and

fundamental cultural structures” (Thong, 2012, p. 893). It is these fundamental cultural

structures that form the basis of the ideology used by many international development

professionals (described below).

Policy and the purposes of education

The three purposes of education noted above, human capital development, human

rights fulfillment, and nation-building, are variously highlighted and backgrounded by the

44

Karen, INGOs, and the Royal Thai Government in their construction of a camp-based education

system that each considered acceptable. Each group strongly emphasized one of these

purposes of education, giving little analysis to the positions held by the other actors. Each

stakeholder analyzed other stakeholders’ purposes only to ensure that their requests and

requirements for the education system did not clash.

To ensure an acceptable system, it was necessary for the stakeholders to communicate

and negotiate using a variety of different methods. These methods included passing rules and

laws to be interpreted and enforced at the local level, holding high-level meetings, and a variety

of public participation formats. The negotiations focused on ensuring that the logistics of the

education system supported the stakeholders’ desired purposes of education, or at least did

not undermine them.

I argue in the dissertation that building an education system that relied on silent

agreement among stakeholders (i.e., no major epistemological clashes in the immediate

situation) without looking at the longer-term outcomes that would be fostered by the particular

education system that arose led to particular decisions (e.g., language of instruction, adoption

of curricula and the associated teaching and learning materials, and the inclusion of policies

that recommend LCE pedagogies) that have extensive political consequences as these actors

now move toward a “durable solution” likely based on forced return. Additionally, I argue that

specific decisions, particularly those around contested areas (such as student certification, and

recognition of teacher trainings received in the camps) have important political consequences

in this next stage.

45

Conceptual Framework

Education is widely accepted as a necessary part of global, national, and individual

development, and debates about what education looks like, how it is perceived, and what it

does continue. Anderson-Levitt (2003) demonstrates that the level of abstraction at which the

education system is examined impacts the perception of sameness or differentness at any given

time. This means that examining education at the provincial or state level may show more

similarities, whereas examining different schools and classrooms may point to more

differences. However, how policies and practices change in relation to each other is certainly

important in helping us to determine if, how, and why both formal policies and school cultures

around the globe are converging or diverging.

Anthropologists present evidence of resistance to world culture and adaptation of

global policies to argue that internationally, “cultures of schooling” are diverging (e.g.,

Anderson-Levitt, 2003, p. 1; Madjidi & Restoule, 2008). Institutionalists point to development

policies and education system evaluations to argue that education policies are converging (e.g.,

Baker & LeTendre, 2005; Akiba & LeTendre, 2009). This dissertation focuses on the creation and

evolution of an education system in refugee camps, a setting that straddles the line between

emergency and development and thus oscillates between a means of addressing temporary

emergency situations and concerns for a more permanent/sustainable means of addressing

student identity. In such settings, it is particularly common to observe educational policies

being recommended by experts, adopted by those international actors who often serve as

middle figures in refugee settings, and then interpreted and modified by refugees. The situation

in Thai refugee camps is distinct, in that Thailand is not a signatory to refugee conventions, and

46

the UNHCR is therefore not in charge of the camps. Without these middle figures, one might

imagine much greater flexibility, resistance, and adoption of policies and practices that lie

outside of international best practices.

While I see ample evidence of resistance and modification of recommended policies,

overall, the policies that shape the camp-based education system have moved toward

international policies, rather than away from them. Leaders have adopted these convergent

policies, I argue, to promote legitimacy in the international community. Thus, the reasons for

this convergence are shot through with distinct nation-building rationales that complexify many

of the arguments made by neo-institutionalists for why convergence is occurring. To examine

these rationales, I draw on Anderson-Levitt’s work to propose that the practices associated

with international education policies at the camp-based education system level differ—in some

cases significantly—from those that are expected or intended by the policies. Thus, educational

practices in the camps ultimately diverge in important ways from the “world society” reflected

in the international education policies. As such, neo-institutional theory is useful in

understanding the official policy framework of the camps, but limited (beyond the notion of

disarticulation) in its usefulness when examining daily educational practices in the refugee

camp schools.

To examine the similarities and differences at the local level, I use a political economy

framework that recognizes that actors representing different levels (international, state, and

local) have very different access to resources and social, political, and economic power (Brieger,

2012; Rondinelli et al., 1989). I use both the neo-institutionalist framework and the political

economy framework to analyze the role of experts hired by INGOs. By and large, these experts

47

share a similar ideology (described below, and very much associated with neo-institutionalist

descriptions of world society norms), which is reflected in international best practices, including

participatory methods, that international development education experts use to engage with

local actors. Using the concept of “participation” as a lens, this dissertation examines the ways

in which these experts interact with camp residents to bring international policies to the local

level and to bring local concerns to the international level.

The following sections describe the ways in which neo-institutionalist and political

economy frameworks are used in this dissertation. This is followed by the ideology of

international development (here called ID ideology) organizations and professionals. The final

section of the conceptual framework examines experts, their connections to the shared

ideology, and their roles in both neo-institutional and political economy theories in this vertical

case study.

Neo-institutional Theory

Neo-institutional theories are useful in understanding where convergent international

norms and policies come from, the techno-rationalized argumentation on which they draw, and

the actors and institutions that promulgate them. To understand how policies are formed and

modified, I examine policy recommendations made by ID experts who are hired by INGOs

working along the Thailand-Burma border. Along the border, a large percentage of the experts

are employed by nongovernmental organizations in part because Thailand is not a signatory to

the Refugee Convention, thus limiting the role of multilateral organizations and because, until

recently, Burma did not have many relationships with bilateral or multilateral organizations. For

that reason, this dissertation will focus on experts employed by INGOs, realizing that many of

48

them likely were or will be employed by other international development organizations.

Based on my research, it is my contention that INGOs and other organizations promote

specific policies for multiple reasons, such as funder approval, political access to the camps,

name recognition, and prestige, in addition to an ethical belief in their mission. It is also my

contention that the individual ID experts who work with the refugees have the opportunity to

interpret these policies in multiple ways; however, the majority of the experts interpret them in

similar ways, which are shaped by these actors’ socialization into ID ideology and membership

in the ID epistemic community (Chabbott, 2003). As I will show in the coming chapters, it is this

singular interpretation, the personal relationships that occur in and around the camps, and the

ways that these interact with the goals of Karen leaders that have led the education system in

the Karen camps to move toward global norms and policies, rather than away from them.

The international community includes organizations created by core powers, many

argue to promote their interests and ensure their domination over smaller powers and the

world-economy. These organizations include development banks and funds; UN organizations;

bilateral donor organizations; research, training and professional organizations; for-profit firms

with government contracts; and nonprofit INGOs based in high-income countries. These

organizations are managed by development experts who include elites from high-income

countries such as Germany, Canada, Japan, and South Korea. After WWII, the number of INGOs

working to assist these new states in becoming legitimate members of the international

community also increased (Boli & Thomas, 1997, 1999).

More Marxist and critical theoretical perspectives have long argued that the origination

of many of these organizations as extensions of powerful “developed” states shapes their

49

engagement with “developing” countries in ways designed to maintain existing relations of

power and authority (Samoff, 2006; Samoff & Stromquist, 2001). In contrast, neo-

institutionalists argue that “developing” states adopt policies that seem illogical if examined

from the developing state perspective, but make much more sense if examined from a neo-

institutional perspective, where it is argued that states are generally worried about how they

look to each other, and they are concerned about appearing to be the “right kind” of state. In

order to look like the right kind of state, they adopt policies and practices that may seem utterly

out of step with the individual state’s needs from a “rational” perspective.

Boli & Thomas (1997, 1999) analyzed the role of INGOs in shaping the policies and

processes used by states and multilateral organizations. This social analysis of the structures

and goals of INGOs indicated that the central elements of the recommended policies became

components of world society, even as they also reflected central components of existing world

society ideologies. States and multilateral organizations then promulgate these policies because

they are the “right” policies for all members of the world society. World society includes the

following principles: universality, individualism, rationalism, and global citizenship, which form

the basis of ID ideology and reflects European Enlightenment ideals. INGOs, working with states

and other social groups, weave these principles together to form a dynamic world society

ideology that in turn impacts how INGOs are formed, how they work, and their desired

outcomes.

This research offers some expansions and contrasts to world society approaches to

understanding ID ideologies and outcomes. As will be described in greater detail below, world

society theory may be quite useful in understanding the actions of INGOs, the Royal Thai

50

Government, and the GRUM. They are less useful, however, in understanding why and how

refugee groups adopt and engage with these same policies. I will argue in this dissertation that

the Karen are attempting, in part through their education policies and practices, to position

their nationalist movement as an internationally-recognized demand for recognition as a

political body. This is a twist on the neo-institutionalist argument that states adopt policies to

look like a good member of world society. Here, a group of non-state actors appear to be

adopting these policies to forward their own claims for recognition as a legitimate political

body, even as their movement is inherently nationalist and in important ways does not map

easily onto statist claims.

Political Economy Framework

A political economy framework is based on the belief that resources are allocated

according to political power, thus resource allocation can only be understood in terms of power

and class differentials within a social system. Political economy frameworks recognize that

access to power and the ability to influence policy and its interpretation are different at the

local, state, and international levels, and that these three levels continuously interact and

therefore influence with one another (Brieger, 2006; Gilpin, 2016). As Gilpin (2016, p. 11)

noted, “The conflict between the evolving economic and technical interdependence of the

globe and the continuing compartmentalization of the world political system composed of

sovereign states is a dominant motif of contemporary . . . international political economy

[frameworks]”.

This dissertation uses a political economy framework grounded in Marxist and critical

theory to examine the social, political, and economic power at the various levels (see Webb &

51

Gulson, 2015). It understands reality as dynamic and without intrinsic social harmony; it builds

on the belief that economic activities are central to changes that occur through class struggles;

and it is grounded in the dialectic between the political and economic contradictions inherent

in capitalism (Gilpin, 2016; see also Appadurai, 1990 & 1996, and Carney, 2009)

In order to use a political economy framework, I draw on Rondinelli et al. (1989)’s

integrated political economy framework, which includes the analysis of the political, economic,

and social dimensions of policy creation and interpretation that allows for an interdisciplinary

approach to policy analysis. To do so, I examine the characteristics of the camp-based

education system, its students and teachers, and the institutional norms in the camps as they

interface with the funders and world society via INGOs. To examine these characteristics, I

consider the camp a pseudo-state led by the refugee governing body; as a result, the camp-

based education system can be considered a public education system that serves the camp

community. It is financially dependent on funders who use INGOs as organizations to distribute

funds in an internationally-validated manner.

These INGOs and the experts they employ bring international policies into the camps

and facilitate convergence of the camp-based system with the international policies. However,

the interactions between the INGO experts and local leaders and educators result in a

reinterpretation and reworking of the policies to produce divergent practices in the classroom.

Because of the formal interactions (e.g., ID participatory exercises) and informal, daily

conversations, it is necessary to combine a political economy framework with a neo-

institutional framework to understand how the camp-based education system came to be

structured to reflect convergence of policies yet implemented in a way that resulted in

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distinctly different outcomes from those the international community had intended.

ID Ideology

In the late 1980s, the heads of the World Bank, UNICEF, and UNESCO met to discuss

global education. The Bank was considered to be the expert institution in educational policy,

and its leader, B. Conable, was interested in promoting education as an investment with a

reasonable rate of return. UNICEF as an organization was deeply engaged in child health issues,

and its leader, J. Grant, believed that education could play an integral part in its child health

programs. UNESCO, having recently lost three wealthy member states and their financial

contributions, needed to re-establish credibility and funding, and its leader, F. Mayor,

envisioned global education as being one way to do so (Chabbott, 2003; Mundy, 2002). The

Bank, UNICEF, and UNESCO assumed that “intellectual consensus” around education could be

created at a global conference and began preparing for the World Conference on Education for

All (WCEFA) in 1988. (UNDP joined a few months later (Heyneman, 2003; Mundy, 1999;

Chabbott, 2003)). Thus, as Chabbott (2003) pointed out, WCEFA was initiated by three heads of

UN organizations, without the involvement of individual member states.

The Bank and UNICEF (UNESCO’s voice was notably absent from this process) worked to

form an intellectual consensus for multilateral engagement in education resource

redistribution. Interest in this consensus was to be fostered at the WCEFA by actively engaging

international development professionals in conversations with member state education

officials. Together, these experts form an epistemic community, the members of which share a

common goal to “promote education policies linked to modern ideals of nation and citizen” as

related to the political state (Mundy, 1999, p. 449). Presentations and networking form the

53

foundation of these international conferences, and these create and sustain a network of

experts. These experts typically work with a number of organizations during their careers, often

moving between nongovernmental, quasi-governmental, bilateral and multilateral

organizations. This circulation of experts further reifies this ideology among organizations

(Chabbott, 2003; Samoff, 2006).

This dissertation uses “international development (ID)” to signify experts, professionals,

ideologies, and logics that conform to a mindset and professional practices dominated by

principles of the European Enlightenment. The European Enlightenment principles included

(but are not limited to): the supremacy of reason and rationality, the cultural and intellectual

importance of science and empiricism, universalism, a singular path toward and notion of

modernity, humanist values, secularism, individualism, nationalism, rhetoric of freedom, and a

belief that nature holds the answers to all questions. The rise of the self-realizing individual and

the rise of scientism led to a political delegitimization of the Church (King, 1999, p. 13; Dressler

& Mandair, 2011, p.9).

The term “Westernization” is not appropriate as a description of ID ideology for a

number of reasons. First, the ID experts along the border came from many geographical areas,

including South Korea, the Philippines, Japan, and Tanzania, that are not typically considered

“Western”. Second, their own positionality and understanding of the goals of the policies that

they promulgated were often distinctly not to “Westernize”, but instead to “develop”. The

members of this epistemic community share a common ideology that is grounded in the world

society principles promoted by many ID experts and INGOs. Boli & Thomas (1997) argue that

these world society principles on which ID ideology is based include the following: universalism,

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rational progress, voluntaristic authority, and global citizenship. The phrase “international

development ideology” is used throughout this dissertation to refer to the set of norms,

stances, affiliations, and practices that marked this group. I use the term “ideology” instead of

culture to highlight the fact that ID ideology resides in members of the epistemic community

and is materialized through organizations, such as INGOs. Indeed, the ID experts that I met

along the border shared a similar ID ideology, one that was itself promulgated through higher

education pathways, professional conferences and norms, and the ideological stances of the

organizations through which they moved.4

ID organizations and education in aid and development settings. Alleviating financial

poverty and fulfilling human rights are virtually uncontested goals of education. Nation-

building, however, is inherently and visibly political. If it refers to state-building, this is a process

internal to the state, and over which the international community has little say. If it refers to

nation-building, however, it may stand in opposition to the global political order. Given that

multilateral organizations work at a supra-state level and that education is a state

responsibility, it is logical that multilateral organizations are concerned with the facets of

education that affect the global economy and “society”/political order. Indeed, to re-enforce

the sense of political neutrality, multilateral organizations such as UNESCO and UNICEF are

prohibited from interfering with the facets of education that promote national citizenship and

identification with a nation (Charnow, 1947; UNESCO, 2013). As Kendall (2007) noted, however,

the techno-rationalized ideological form taken by international development education aid can

4 See Chabbott, 2003 for an in-depth description of the force and educational structuring of ID ideology among ID professionals.

55

delegitimize the state and its public education system. In addition, the interactions between

globalized policies and the national and local contexts lead to outcomes—including political

outcomes—that were not predicted by the international discourses of Education for All (Coe,

2005; Kendall, 2007) As Ball (2001) notes, all education policy is inherently political—yet

multilateral ID efforts attempt to separate education from politics, and bilateral ID efforts may

address the political aspects of education policy only as they believe serve their (not the

recipient state’s) interests, as occurred during the Cold War.

Recommended educational content (basic literacy and numeracy, initially in mother

tongue) and pedagogy (LCE) gain global traction by being viewed as appropriate from the

human rights perspective and the HCD perspective (Mundy, 2006). This content and pedagogy

is also validated by being perceived as “apolitical”, in the sense that it is appropriate for

everyone and is not politically biased (UNESCO, 2000 & 2012; World Bank 2000; cf. Tabulawa

2003; Vavrus & Bartlett 2013). Global education policies call for educational reform, localization

of the curricula, and “tolerance” for different ethnicities and cultures, all within the framework

of the prescribed content and pedagogy. This critical instrumentalism leads to prescribed

policies that reflect the norms and rationales of HCD and human rights approaches (both of

which are championed by ID states and professions) and deliberately avoid other purposes of

education, such as nation-state-building.

Most INGOs attribute a similar nature, agency, and rights to all people. Because of this

conception of the universality of people, INGOs’ purposes and methods of acting (which usually

include “recognizing” and responding to particular local concerns, but always within a broader

ID techno-rationalization of their needs and experiences (Mitchell, T., 2002)), are in turn

56

conceived of as universally meaningful and useful. In many development projects, members of

the ID epistemic community are called on to provide technical assistance on the universal

aspects of INGO-managed development projects. The experts’ accumulated knowledge and

experiences are shared with one another, and eventually evolve into best practices. These best

practices are generally thought to be both universal enough in their appeal and flexible enough

to be adapted for use in virtually any community (Meyer, 2012).

Another core tenet of many INGOs is the primacy of the individual. INGOs’ goals and

methods reflect their belief in the individual as the most important unit of analysis. Even when

they are also targeted as parts of collectives, the individual remains the unit of analysis, with

INGOs viewing collectives as groups of individuals. Humanity as a whole is a group of

individuals, each of which has the same inherent rights (Meyer, 2012).

Neo-institutional theorists argue that INGOs view the nature, agency, and goals of all

people as being grounded in rationality. INGOs believe that when reasonable people use

rational processes to act together for a common purpose, they can create knowledge that

promotes justice, equity, and efficiency. INGOs use science, expertise, and professionalism to

design and implement schemes aimed at achieving rational progress. Rational progress and ID

ideology are encompassed in the term “development”, which includes economic development,

self-actualization for all individuals, collective security, and justice (Boli & Thomas, 1997).

The knowledge created by the experts working for INGOs needs no external

legitimation, but it is imperative that the INGOs carefully vet the rational actors they hire in

terms of education, experience, and ideology. Because INGOs believe in the legitimacy and

universality of their knowledge, they act with authority, even though they have limited actual

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legal, political, or economic jurisdiction. INGOs use science, expertise, and professionalism to

foster and maintain the perception of their authority (Haas, 1992).

Using their authoritative claim to knowledge and the financial and political power that

supports ID ideology, experts in the field define problems, efficiencies, and possibilities. The

epistemic community legitimizes and delegitimizes ideas and individuals, thus perpetuating the

network and facilitating policy convergence throughout the network. There are changes in

these ideas and individuals over time, but the community is generally shaped, argue neo-

institutionalists, by the constraints of the core assumptions and beliefs of world society—here

represented in a particular model of “development”.

The ID epistemic community represents the dominant international actor in emergency

settings, and many would argue the dominant actor in development settings. It has the ability

to influence state-level governments through the tight linkage between the beliefs of the

epistemic community and the desire of most states to be accepted in world society. Thus, argue

neo-institutionalists, the ability of these global representatives of world society to persuade

governments that certain policy choices are advantageous, even when these choices do not

appear to be based in a rational decision-making process from the perspective of the state

itself.

Organizations and experts. Events are not instigated by faceless organizations; as noted

above, they are initiated by individuals with names, personalities, and motivations. While

organizations are often thought of as a collection of policies and procedure, ultimately they all

rely on individuals to set organizational goals and guide organizational practices. The epistemic

community that makes up international development organizations is composed of ID experts

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who set organizational agendas and practices. The experts include people from around the

globe, most of whom themselves come from elite educational backgrounds (Mundy, 1999;

Heyneman, 2003; Chabbott, 2003).

This network of ID experts guides organizations in directions that are acceptable to

funders and to the international community. To do so, they must reconcile the desire to

provide education for all with a limited amount of resources. They must also create policies for

this reconciliation based on their authoritative claim to knowledge about education in

developing countries (Chabbott, 2003; Haas, 1992).

Experts’ authoritative claims to knowledge in international education are based on

recognition of expertise from their peers, who are also members of the epistemic community

(Haas, 1992). In international education settings, the use of experts for program design and

evaluation is required by many international funders and government-level programs.

Considering the ubiquity of experts in development settings, there is a dearth of literature

examining who experts are and how they are shaped (Chabbott, 2003; see also Mullen, 2003;

Baker, 2006; Lyneham et al., 2008). The following section provides a framework for

understanding who experts are and how they are created. Using this framework, I then present

the definition of “expert” that I will use throughout this dissertation.

Experts often are characterized as having three key characteristics: knowledge,

experience, and influence. These characteristics allow them to determine measurements and

definitions of success for activities with results that are difficult to measure (e.g., participation)

(Chabbott, 2003; Baker, 2006; Shanteau et al., 2003). The focus on these characteristics is

evidenced by the typical applicant requirements for senior positions in education and

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development settings:

Figure 1. Adverts for senior level positions with INGOs

To be considered “legitimate” by funders and INGOs, experts in international education

policy must have university credentials and sector experience in development settings. The

approach to certification used by academics mirrors a specific worldview based on academic

standards and the scientific method and is required to be considered legitimate by other

academicians within the discipline (Parpart, 1995; Samoff, 2006). As a result of their training,

experts in international education policy generally adopt institutionally-legitimated approaches

to conceptualizing development “problems” and gathering data about situations in which they

are involved.

Sector experience, e.g., education and/or development-sector work experience, also is a

requisite for being considered an expert. Experience working in the sector is expected to lead

experts to take into account a variety of origins, settings, and local conditions, and to couple

this experience with certain forms of professional and academic knowledge to affect the

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experts’ perception of the situation and enable her to react quickly and/or differently from an

individual who lacks a depth of experience (Lyneham et al., 2008). As noted by Orr (2013),

development experience teaches an individual to take a multidisciplinary (and multisited)

approach, even within a specific sector. To be considered legitimate, however, the ID

worldview, which is in part based on (largely) US and European academic training, must remain

intact.

The ability to influence policy decisions also is a key characteristic of an expert. The

ability to influence policy often begins with a title or position that commands respect, (e.g.,

country director, chief of party). Additionally, the level of influence differs between people with

the same title, based on the resources and power that lie behind their institutional affiliation.

Thus, for example, there is often a difference in the respect given to, and the ability to influence

policy held by, the directors of education for a small, community-based organization versus the

director of education for a multilateral organization (Chabbott, 2003; Baker, 2006). An expert’s

influence is enhanced by reputation and acceptance from other experts in the field who have

similar education and experiences, which in turn often results in similar efforts and approaches

to influencing policies. This, of course, leads to the question that faces all experts: Does an

expert on poverty know more than a poor (i.e., noninfluential) person? And the uncomfortable

self-reflection that experts (can) engage in: Does expertise provide incentives to maintain

influence and thus the status quo? (Chabbott, 2003; Bell, 1994).

Using the above discussion, I will define an expert as “an individual with in-depth

knowledge on a particular subject, substantial field experience, and recognized influence

among other experts and policy makers.” There are no precise definitions for “in-depth,”

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“substantial,” or “influence,” In-depth knowledge may not always be more knowledge than a

well-informed citizen, and substantial field experience without reflection may not result in

changes in perception of a situation. Influence can be positive, negative, or neutral. The levels

of knowledge, experience, influence, and overall expertise of the experts working along the

Thailand-Burma border vary widely, from internationally recognized professionals to interns

and self-proclaimed experts. For this reason, I am comfortable with this imprecise definition of

“expert” when describing international experts in and around the camps.

Local experts. The above definition is ill-suited for describing local experts. Unlike

international experts, who travel to different places and maintain strong ties to the ID epistemic

community, local experts are grounded in their specific socio-geographical milieus, and very

often hold views stemming from these experiences that do not align with those of the

epistemic community. Local experts are broadly defined by two characteristics: skills, and the

locale in which they grew up. Being an expert is dependent on recognition from others. Local

“expertise” is relatively stable as defined within “local experts’” own communities. For

example, a respected Karen elder is a respected Karen elder in any setting in which Karen elders

would be identified as experts.

In contrast, the fluid nature of how ID organizations conceptualize qualifications for

“local expert” mean that an individual may be considered an expert for one project but

considered unqualified for a different project or a different phase of the project, based, for

example, on their language skills, educational level, or place of childhood. It also means that

individuals whom an INGO considers to be a local expert may not be considered experts by the

locals with whom they work.

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The following is a description of some local experts I worked with in West Africa. This

example highlights some of the differences between local and international experts that I also

saw along the Thailand-Burma border. When I worked for an INGO in Liberia, we hired Liberians

to serve as teacher trainers because they were assumed to know the Liberian culture and

because they had lived through the war and were intimately familiar with the challenges of

repatriation. Additionally, the trainers knew the lingua franca of the country, but they also

spoke and wrote fluent American English. A majority of the people whom we hired had been

teachers in refugee camps and had repatriated to Liberia; all had been living in Monrovia for at

least nine years prior to this project. The war had destroyed the education system, and the

theory behind hiring these trainers was that they would provide teacher training that focused

on LCE pedagogies, which they had learned in the camps, to individuals serving as teachers

around the country.

Hiring local experts was a condition of the grant and I considered it to be a good

practice. Prior to leaving Monrovia, there were a few weeks of orientation and training. The

training included pedagogy, content, and reminders of what rural life was like. All the trainers

had been displaced during the war and were familiar with living in relatively rural areas despite

having lived in an urban area for many years. When the training was complete, 10 of the local

experts and I moved from Monrovia to a rural province. I was based in the provincial capital,

and the trainers, in teams of two, were based in smaller towns throughout the province.

I traveled to the various sites regularly and we all met in the provincial capital bi-

monthly. As the local experts arrived for one of our bi-monthly meetings, I sat in a room with

the early arrivals, talking informally. I was surprised to learn that although the local experts

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were Liberian, they were having difficulty fitting in to the small towns to which they had been

assigned. Many of villages used tribal languages rather than the lingua franca that was used in

the cities, and the local experts were from different tribes and did not speak a tribal language,

either their own or that of the villagers.

Additionally, some of the local experts were less-than-respectful of some of the cultural

practices in the rural villages. To the villagers, “local” meant within walking distance, and they

considered our “local” experts to be outsiders. The INGO and its funder considered anyone

from Liberia as a representative of “local” culture, and their spoken and written English skills

along with their experience as teachers made them experts. These “local” experts considered

themselves Liberian, but when pressed, admitted they knew very little about this particular

province. Being employed by an INGO motivated them to retain their title of “local expert”, but

the difficulties in the villages and their distaste at being identified as a villager was enough to

bring about confessions of feeling like “outsiders”.

That said, these local experts had much more in common with the villagers than I did,

simply by virtue of being Liberian and living through the war. These local experts were expected

to provide a bridge between the INGO and the local villages; however, because of differing

village and INGO conceptions of “local” and “expert”, it seemed the INGO was making much

more use of the bridge than were the villagers.

In sectors such as agriculture, local experts teach people similar to themselves

modifications they make to traditional methods to enhance crop production. Increased crop

production verifies the efficacy of these techniques, and international experts are often eager

to learn them and incorporate them into contextualized best practices, as appropriate. In

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contrast, in medicine, for most of the history of ID interventions, certain practitioners,

practices, and ideas were considered anathema to “Western” medicine and have been actively

and sometimes violently rejected.

In the education sector, local experts are most often sought for their knowledge of

culture and language, which then is used by ID organizations to contextualize and implement

best practices, but they are not turned to for knowledge—about traditional pedagogical

practices, learning environments, content, or organizational approaches. For example, local

knowledge of pedagogies other than learner-centered pedagogies is not considered valid,

because learner-centered pedagogy is a cornerstone of the epistemic community’s

conceptualization of “good schooling”. This is similarly true for learning environments and

organizational approaches. This is also true of content; however, many ID experts are accepting

of an additive approach, where “local” subjects may be added to the curriculum, as long as

globalized approaches to literacy and numeracy instruction are maintained and the added

curriculum does not contrast with central tenets of ID ideology (see Chapter 2). An example of

additive education that is not acceptable is initiation (i.e., rites of passage) education, which in

most areas is considered anathema to ID best practices, because of the curricular and

pedagogical practices used by these educators. In such cases, an additive model will not work,

and instead a violent rejection of such practitioners (as has been common in medical ID

practices) is sometimes evident.

ID ideology is therefore the ideology on which international experts and organizations

base development and emergency aid strategies. ID ideology is founded in the principles of

Enlightenment, which are passed on through the experts via organizational policies and

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recommendations made at the local level. The role of local experts in these processes is

complex; in some cases, local expertise is sought out and valued, but in cases in which people’s

actions or ideologies are viewed as actively oppositional to ID ideology, they are more

commonly ignored or rejected.

Participation

Calls for participation and a range of accompanying practices have become an integral

component of international development (education) strategies (see e.g., Cooke & Kothari,

2001; Kendall, et al., 2015). To contextualize, determine additional content (if any), and make

some decisions about development projects, ID experts often call for participation from “local”

actors. These local actors’ expertise is usually understood to be the lived experience that itself

will be transformed through an appropriate developmental intervention.

Participation theoretically implies that decision making has shifted away from experts

and toward local people (World Bank, 2011; cf. Berner & Philip, 2003; Herr & Anderson, 2005).

Participation is, however, a multidimensional concept. Willis (2005, p. 103) described

participation in development contexts as “an umbrella term referring to the involvement of

local people in development activities.” Under this umbrella is a continuum of classifications for

participation categorized by the level of stakeholder engagement. Authors such as Taylor

(2009), Green (2000), and Webler & Tuler (2006) have demonstrated the range of participation-

in-action, from methodologies that promote community ownership of ideas and projects to a

perfunctory exercise.

Techniques of participation can range from asking questions and gathering data from

participants in order to shape programming, to teaching participants about a topic at hand in

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such a way as to attempt to ensure the participants arrive at the “proper” conclusions (a

process I call “facipulation”—see Ch. 6). However, these techniques often fail to take into

account the epistemic and cultural assumptions made by sector experts. Mosse (2004)

describes such participatory processes, in which epistemic assumptions have already

determined the boundaries of ID actors’ ability to listen and recognize participants’ ideas and

experiences, as one in which “techniques of participation…turn out to be disciplinary

technologies deployed to produce ‘proper’ beneficiaries with planning knowledge out of local

people and their ways of thinking and doing” (p. 6).

For example, in ID educational settings, “participatory” planning processes often take as

a starting point that learner-centered education (LCE) is equally and always appropriately

applicable in all educational contexts. Educational sector experts consider learner-centered

pedagogy to be culturally neutral knowledge that experts can share around the globe. Locals

are not asked to determine the relevance of LCE to their specific location and culture. Instead,

participatory processes are used to “contextualize” LCE to a particular setting by drawing on

aspects of local practice that are considered acceptable internationally, such as using local

“arts” content and local languages.

In this sense, a number of researchers have now argued that participatory exercises in

the education sector focus on building local capacity for using and applying pedagogical

practices that are situated in the culture and materiality of governments that sponsor ID to

local content and languages (Vavrus & Bartlett, 2013; Tabulawa, 2003). Locals often are asked

about traditional pedagogies, but ID experts ask these questions as a way of informing

strategies for transitioning to LCE, not as a way of validating or adopting traditional pedagogies.

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The link between participation and political outcomes is complex, ranging from a

facilitator hearing participants but moving forward with a predetermined outcome, to a

facilitator working with participants to define the problems and solutions, thereby creating

participant ownership of the project, to funds being turned over with no or few strings attached

for use by participants (Brown & Lauder, 1996; Fung, 2006; Mosse, 2004; Carney & Bista, 2009;

Kendall et al., 2015). The following section unpacks common processes used in ID participatory

methods by delving specifically into how they are carried out in decision-making contexts. It

draws on anthropological and educational policy research to explore who participated in the

decisions (representation), how the experts and participants communicated (learning), and the

connections between conclusions and opinions on one hand and public policy and action on the

other.

Dimensions of Participation. Fung (2006) identified three dimensions along which

participatory exercises vary: who participates, intra-group dynamics, and the ways in which the

results of participatory exercises are linked to public policy and practice (see also Reed, 2008).

Each dimension is a continuum, and the nexus of the locations on each continuum that a

participatory exercise occupies can be used to determine, to some extent, how the exercise is

implemented (i.e., the shape of the exercise) and the type of results (e.g., learning, decision-

making, etc.) (Fung, 2006).

Who participates. Determining who participates is usually based on the facilitator’s

perception of participation and on the objective of the participatory exercise. While these two

factors are rarely completely separate, I will describe them separately here for clarity. The

facilitator(s)’ perspective of “participation” regarding the role of participant voice may range

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from an inherent belief that everyone’s voice should be heard in decision-making processes to a

belief that participation increases decision-making legitimacy and facilitates implementation,

and is thus limited to local experts (Li, 2007; Mosse, 2004; World Bank, 2011). Thus the

inclusiveness of the recruitment process and the ultimate composition of the participant group

will reflect, to some extent, the facilitator’s perspective. The inclusive nature of the recruiting

methods that ultimately determine the composition of the participant group is also a function

of the objective of the exercise, which can range from information gathering (i.e., consultation)

for decision making, to objectives that focus on participant capacity building and longer-term

community management and development (i.e., empowerment and transformation) (Reed,

2008).

Fung (2006) categorizes participant inclusiveness from most to least as: self-selection,

selective recruiting, random selection, lay stakeholders (unpaid citizen experts), and

professional stakeholders (paid experts). Fung acknowledges that self-selection is affected by

social and political factors, which may lead to results that are skewed in favor or a particular

group. This is demonstrated in Chapter 4. Selective recruiting and random selection are both

functions of definition of the population being asked to participate and the person(s) in charge

of recruiting. How this is done greatly affects the results of the participatory exercise; however,

these variables are seldom highlighted when data are analyzed or results are reported. Finally,

there are participatory exercises in which unpaid citizen experts make up the participants.

These citizen experts often have a deep interest in the topic of discussion, however they may or

may not be representative of the entire population. Chapters 5, 6, and 8 take a deeper look at

participatory methods that rely on experts, and how the interactions between experts and

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facilitators impacts the outcome of the participatory exercises. Clearly, the power to influence

decisions is skewed in the facilitator’s favor as she determines which voices will be heard.

Intra-group dynamics. Here, I define the unit of analysis as the entire group, including

the interactions among participants and between the participants and the facilitator(s). Early

studies of participation examined group dynamics among the participants (Chambers, 1994;

Richards, 1995). Within-group power dynamics were generally associated with silencing

marginalized voices during public participatory exercises. In addition, limiting who spoke during

public meetings, and calls for consensus, also silenced alternative viewpoints. Consensus-

making invariably involves power. In the eyes of development professionals, consensus

generated by “participation” enhances legitimacy; in so doing, it also fosters the notion of a

homogeneous population. In this way, dominant local knowledge may be translated through

participatory processes into the “local knowledge” that is used to rationalize all

recommendations in the area.

Social dominance in participatory exercises can result in a homogenized understanding

of local knowledge by the facilitators, who often are members of the ID professional network.

Participatory consensus-building may relieve development project implementers (e.g., INGOs)

of the responsibility to acknowledge and address the needs of the minority or less-dominant

groups, thus re-enforcing local power structures (Wilkerson, 2009; Willis, 2005; Mosse, 1994;

Cornish & Ghosh, 2006). In his discussion on intra-group dynamics, Reed (2008) included the

inherent power dynamics between the facilitator and the participants. Decisions regarding the

topic of discussion, the rules of discussion, and the quality of consensus reflect the power

relationships between and among local participants and experts (G. Anderson, 1998; Kapoor,

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2004, 2005; Wilkerson, 2009). Often, decisions must adhere to bureaucratic and technocratic

criteria, including measurability, timeliness, affordability, and relevance as determined by

experts. Rationalized by modernization theory, certain data, e.g., quantity of votes, are

privileged over other types of data, such as narratives, during the decision-making process (Herr

& Anderson, 2005; Reed, 2008).

Reed (2008) also notes the role of the direction of communication in setting the social

norms of the participatory exercise. Directionality ranges from one-way communication (e.g.,

facilitator to participants for the purpose of disseminating information and participants to

facilitator for the purpose of gathering information from locals) to two-way communications

during which the facilitator and the participants dialogue or negotiate. Passive information

gathering can be considered a goal of participatory exercises, can be accomplished in as little as

one event, and often occur only at one point in the project cycle. Negotiation and dialogue

require two-way communication and learning, require more than a single participatory

exercise, and often occur at multiple stages of a project.

Communicating the results of participatory exercises. Facilitators most often

communicate the outcomes of participatory exercises to authorities, such as funders and

national and international policymakers, with limited assistance from the participants.

Participation for policymaking and decision making often requires transmission of reports from

participatory exercises held in situ to international offices in Western Europe or the United

States. The transmission of these reports requires the facilitators of participatory methods to

“translate” ideas from the local level into technical jargon as the information moves from the

local level to the international level. This translation often distorts the meanings of the

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concepts put forth at the local level. Local voices and words are lost as ideas are translated and

subtly modified to fit into the international paradigm of development, which gains its form

from a recognized professional lexicon (Vavrus & Seghers, 2010; McCormick, 2012; Kapoor,

2004, Taylor, 2009; Makuwira, 2004). Again, the power to influence decisions based on

participatory methods is unequally shared between the facilitator and the participants. Chapter

8 takes an in-depth look at the manner in which results of participatory methods are

communicated to decision makers and the resistance strategies used by the Karen to ensure

their voice is heard.

This dissertation examines participation in two different ways: first, as the daily

processes involving multiple meetings between stakeholders and facilitators for the purpose of

planning, making decisions, implementing projects, capacity building, and assessing outcomes

related to the construction of a camp-based education system. This definition of participation

arises not from various theories of participation, but as the definition of participation that was

practiced in the border area during the research. The shape, scope, and limits of this approach

to participation are further examined in chapters 4, 5, and 6, as are the changes in modes of

participation that occurred when the educational planning process moved over the border to

Burma (chapter 8).

Second, participation is examined as an exercise in ID power—one designed, at least

theoretically, to redistribute power away from the hands of donors and others with structural

power, and toward local constituents—often through the involvement of ID experts and local

experts called on to structure a range of “participatory” processes and practices. In this sense,

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the ways, times, and modes through which participation occurs in the refugee camps can be

analyzed as exercises that are constituted by relations of power. The study of participation in ID

is an essential component of studying the political economy of ID. Because of the centrality of

participatory exercises in the interactions among education stakeholders on the border,

examining the different ways in which different interactions and relations are structured and

the effect of these on the decisions and actions that result from the participatory exercises in

effect traces the flow of power and influence as it moves between ID stakeholders and levels.

The above section discussed the dimensions of participation that determine who

participates, in what way the participation is structured, and how the results are communicated

to decision makers. These dimensions demonstrate that participation requires interactions

between locals and experts, and that these interactions are always entangled in relations of

power and authority that determine not only the shape of the participatory exercises, which

greatly effects the results, but also determine how the outcomes of the exercises are

communicated to state and international organizations.

Friction Among Different Levels of Socio-Political Actors

The following chapters analyze interactions between local participants and local and

international experts. These interactions took place as the camp-based K-10 education system

was created in the mid-1990s (Chapters x, x, x), during the creation of the Post-Secondary

Education System in the mid-2000s (Chapter x), and that are currently taking place as the

GRUM works with international and local stakeholders to reform its national education system

(Chapter 8). These “interconnections across differences” have resulted in innovative, time-

bound interpretations of education policies by the Thailand-Burma border-based NGOs,

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refugees, and the Thai government. As social, economic, and political situations evolved, the

agreements and arrangements among the stakeholders revealed their “awkward, unequal,

(and) unstable . . . qualities” (Tsing, 2004, p. 4). These instabilities require continued creativity

to modify (and thus maintain) the agreements, even as these policies and their interpretations

also helped to shape stakeholders’ worldviews and trajectories, as different stakeholders

aspired for global connections made possible by these exchanges.

Tsing described this process of continued creativity and worldview co-evolution by using

“friction” as a metaphor:

Without differences and exchanges, innovation would be a difficult task. “A wheel turns because of its encounter with the surface of the road; spinning in the air it goes nowhere. Rubbing two sticks together produces heat and light; one stick alone is just a stick. As a metaphorical image, friction reminds us that heterogeneous and unequal encounters can lead to new arrangements of culture and power (Tsing, 2004, p. 5).

As the Karen strive for international recognition, their notion of educational purposes

and best practices comes up against other notions of educational purposes and best practices.

The interface of ID ideology and best practices with local ideologies and knowledge is enacted

during meetings between foreign experts and camp-based education administrators and

teachers. These meetings often take the form of trainings, consultations, or presentations and

usually are led by foreign experts and attended by other foreign experts and local participants.

It is in these meetings that, through facilitation and participation, friction occurs and

worldviews, including the primary purposes of education and the best pedagogies for attaining

these, slowly co-evolve.

In sum, the educational and professional experiences of most of the international

experts hired by INGOs to work in the camps and help design the camp-based education system

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are influenced by ID ideology. These experts promote world society principles (universality,

individualism, rationalism, and global citizenship) and the content and pedagogy (literacy,

numeracy, and LCE) understood by ID experts to be “correct” in all settings. Local participants,

on the other hand, focus on local values, including self-determination of their culture. The

interactions among INGO experts and local participants create friction that forces policies to be

constantly modified, adopted, and interpreted by educators, leaders, students, and families in

the camp.

While neo-institutional theory is important in understanding how and why local Karen

leaders dialogue and engage with the ID community as they do, and adopt the official

education policies that they do, socio-cultural practice theories and political economic theory is

more useful for examining the modification, adoption, and interpretation of education policies

in the camp, and the frictions generated among all of these actors as political, economic, and

social situations change over the 30 years period under discussion. As Anderson-Levitt (2003,

p.3) explains, “[W]e cannot simply look for similarities or differences in schooling across

countries, for whether one recognizes similarities or differences depends on the level of

abstraction of the analysis.”

Methods

I first became involved with refugees along the Thailand-Burma border in 2007, and

have worked and volunteered inside and around the camps with organizations ranging from

well-known INGOs to local community-based organizations since that time. In 2007, I was

curious about my surroundings but had no intention of conducting research in the region. I kept

a notebook in which I recorded events I found interesting or troubling; some of these

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observations helped me analyze data I collected as part of this dissertation. Between 2008 and

2010, I returned to the border several times for brief, mostly social, visits. In the summer of

2011, I began researching the education systems along the border, returning in 2012, and

conducting my official dissertation research in 2014.

In 2014, my research took place in post-secondary schools in six refugee camps along

the Thailand-Burma border, in a community-based organization’s office in a small border town,

and in an INGO office in a large town on the Thailand-Myanmar border (see Appendix A). The

schools I studied all (theoretically) used English-language as the medium of instruction. From

previous experiences along the border, I was familiar with the curricula used in the schools.

Over the course of 6 months, and building on previous experiences in and around the camps, I

traveled to each of the camps and stayed anywhere from seven hours per day for two days, the

maximum allowed by that camp’s officials, to seven days at a camp that had relaxed rules and

control procedures governing the coming and going of foreigners. I conducted interviews and

focus groups with teachers, administrators, and students. I also observed these actors as they

went about their daily routines at the schools, and I participated in school faculty meetings and

assemblies.

In addition to focus groups, interviews, and participant observation, I analyzed policy

documents generated by the Thai government and international stakeholders. The Karen

Refugee Committee is recognized by camp residents as the “surrogate state government” in the

camps, and I analyzed documents produced by this group as well.

Gaining access to the camps is not politically or physically easy. I was able to do so by

applying for and accepting a six-month position as a Curriculum Specialist with the Karen

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Refugee Education Group (KREG). I was interviewed by a European person who worked for one

of the funder agencies (and with whom I was familiar from previous trips to the border) and by

a KREG staff person who was to be the Karen counterpart for this position. My primary

responsibility was to translate what the teachers in the schools were actually doing into NGO-

speak in order to prepare KREG for possible negotiations regarding repatriation with

international organizations and the GRUM. Before and after travelling to the camps, I worked in

the KREG offices daily to complete my contract. I recorded participant observations every night

and conducted multiple interviews with colleagues during the work days. My position was

funded through grants to KREG from two international organizations, and I had access to these

organizations for interviews, in addition to contractual questions. I was the first expatriate hired

by KREG, although the organization had one other expatriate who was seconded to them by an

INGO.

Neither the seconded expatriate nor I spoke Karen or Burmese fluently. We relied on

the KREG staff to communicate with us in English and to interpret conversations when needed.

All of the curricula used in the Department of Higher Education were in English, and

theoretically all of the teachers could read and speak English at an intermediate level.

Additionally, all KREG communication with outside organizations, including funders, curricula

developers, and implementation partners, was in English. Of note, the director of KREG’s

Department of Higher Education grew up in the camps, graduating from primary and secondary

school there. Based on her fluency in four languages (Karen, Burmese, Thai, English), and her

intense desire and aptitude for learning, she was awarded a scholarship to a university in the

United States, where she completed her bachelor's degree in political science. After graduation,

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she returned to the border, taking a job with KREG specifically to work as an advocate for her

people. I discussed my interpretations of data with her and others as I went along, recording

everything in my field notes. I believe these discussions improved the quality of the data

collected in English.

The Institutional Review Board (IRB) at the University of Wisconsin-Madison felt it best

that I not record interviews or focus groups. I agreed; in a situation where people felt

vulnerable and where recordings were used against them in the past, recording interviews only

added to the stress. I promised complete anonymity to the camp residents with whom I

worked. As a result, the vast majority of the data presented in this dissertation comes from field

notes that were written at the end of each day. All quotes are from my field notes; there are no

audio recordings.

I use very few quotes from expatriate NGO workers. During my 2011 and 2012 trips to

the border, the IRB approved my request to record quotes from professionals about what they

do. During my 2014 trip, however, this same request was not approved. As a result, much of

these data, too, come from field notes rather than from recorded interviews and focus groups. I

took hand-written notes during interviews and focus groups and typed these notes each

evening. I conducted semi-structured interviews with 7 NGO staff, 2 funders, 19 teachers, and 4

school principals; 16 focus groups with teachers; and 3 focus groups with students as

participants.

I collected all the data for this study, thus all of the data collected was by necessity

filtered through my multiple lenses, first in its collection and then in its interpretation and

analysis. I find it unnerving to think that readers might consider my perceptions, observations,

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and analysis to be a true accounting of education along the Thailand-Burma border. There are

many accurate accounts of education along the border, and this dissertation represents an

account that as accurately as possible reflects my perceptions of how education functions along

the border, and why it functions that way.

For that reason, the following section attempts to acknowledge various facets of who I

am and how these facets intersect to result in the data collected and the analysis processes

used for this dissertation. While intersectional approaches are applied most commonly to study

the perceptions and experiences of individuals facing various oppressions, these approaches

also can be applied to groups that rather occupy positions of relative power or advantage (de

Jong, 2009). Tsing (2009) defined intersectionality as “the diversity through which women and

men of varied class niches and racial, ethnic, national, sexual, and religious positions negotiate

power and inequality” (p. 6). This section aims to provide a critical reflection of my systems of

epistemology and communication and the privilege and oppression that make up my

positionality. This reflection undoubtedly is incomplete and biased. It is embarrassing. But I

recognize the importance of allowing the reader to understand, at least partially, where I stand

and despite concerted efforts to the contrary, where I may have made mistakes (Rose, 1997;

Haraway, 1988).

As noted, I was contracted by KREG to create a curriculum framework for math, science,

English, and social studies based on actual camp practices. My salary was paid by KREG using

funds it received from two foreign funder organizations. However, as a White woman with U.S.

citizenship who speaks English as a first language, is university educated, and has a valid

passport, it was easier for me to access the foreign funder organizations than for the KREG

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administration to do so. The funders and I were more comfortable using educational jargon

than was the KREG staff. This enabled me to rationalize my recommendations based on ID

culture and understanding of education principles to the funders. Though this was the job I was

hired to do, I believe that my ability to so fluently conduct this translational work acted as a

barrier to KREG staff, as they seldom asked questions or expressed doubt about my work.

I was aware of the power dynamics prior to taking the position, and I made

arrangements to mitigate them, to some extent. My job description required me to work

closely with a Karen counterpart, one of the people with whom I spoke prior to taking the

position. My role was to provide technical assistance, and my counterpart was to be the face of

the project, presenting the idea of a curriculum framework and assessment plan to the camp

teachers and administrators. I believed we would work together to ensure that the curriculum

framework and assessments accurately reflected what was happening in the camp, and the

recommendations reflected what teachers, students, and administration would like to see

happen. I thought my challenges would include maintaining neutrality as people spoke about

what they did or did not do in classes.

Instead, my counterpart left the organization several weeks before I arrived and was not

replaced. As I conducted the site visits solo, my concerns about the power dynamics involved in

the work were magnified. I found myself working with individuals who were not used to

foreigners, who did not speak English as a second or third language, and who had less economic

and political capital than KREG staff and orders of magnitude less than I had. Mindful of the

power dynamics and the organizational structures in place at every level, I forged ahead. I

believed that in this situation, paralysis would be untenable; as one of my friends often said,

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“We have to try . . .” This dissertation, along with my contract deliverables, is the result.

Data Analysis

The dissertation uses vertical case study methods to address three axes of interest:

changes and continuities across time, place, and levels of social organization. It provides a

historical context from which to compare how the various purposes of education are perceived

and addressed at local, state, and international levels, and to map and analyze the frictions that

arise amongst experts and participants in the daily constitution of educational practices in the

refugee camps. A focus on education policy, and its creation, implementation, and evaluation

(or its practice) across levels of social organization, allows for insight into the mutual influences

among local, state, and international actors. Indeed, ID policy analysis requires examination of

the changing relationships between the local, national, and institutional levels (Bartlett,

forthcoming; Vavrus & Bartlett, 2009; Ball, 1998; Bray et al. 2014; Bray, 2007).

Vertical case study methods acknowledge the influence of historical processes on

present discourses and practices. The history of British imperialism in Burma is reflected in the

current tensions and mistrust between Bama people and Karen people. Setting these historic

relationships in the context of the current political climates in Thailand and Burma provides

insights into how and why international education policies are perceived and responded to as

they are by the KRC and the Myanmar government. These historic relationships also provide

insight into the current contestation over the convergence of the KRC and Myanmar

educational systems, despite both actors adopting international best practice policies in order

to legitimize their political claims on the international stage.

A vertical case study approach also allows me to decenter the state from its position as

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the primary unit of political analysis. This allows the Karen nation, which straddles the Thailand-

Burma border, to become the central unit of political and socio-cultural analysis, which is

examined in relation to international pressures and diverse local demands. The Karen nation is

composed of the Karen diaspora and the Karen people living in the region, and is itself

internally fragmented by the divergent geographical and political histories of different factions.

Using document analysis, interviews and focus groups, and participant observation, I

compared the perceptions of educational purposes, policies, and practices held by local, nation-

level and state-level, and international actors working in the camps. These actors represented

the Karen region, the GRUM, and international actors working for bilateral and multilateral

organizations.

To research the ID epistemic community at the international level, I used official

documents and participant observation in meetings and in the camps. To research the state

level governments, the RTG and the GRUM, I used official documents and websites. I also

directly observed some RTG employees (e.g., highway check point guards, the provincial MOE

official at opening and closing ceremonies, the camp commander in the camps, etc.). To

research the KREG, which I consider to be similar to a state level actor, I used interviews,

participant observations, and document reviews. At the local level, I visited six refugee camps

and a teacher training center. I conducted interviews and focus groups with the students and

teachers and reviewed record-keeping documents kept by the schools and teachers’ lesson

plans when possible as a way of determining alignment between policies and practices. Due to

the regular interaction among the ID professionals, KREG administration and teachers, and

students in some of the schools, the international-state-local levels were somewhat blurred at

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times, with ideas expressed by one person from a particular level (e.g., an ID professional) often

reflecting multiple conversations and idea exchanges with someone from a different level (e.g.,

a PSES teacher). The extent to which ideas expressed at the ID level represented, but were not

exactly the same as, ideas expressed at the KREG or student/teacher level demonstrates the

presence of friction between levels. It is this friction, as noted by Tsing (2005), which allows

local actors to modify and implement policies and procedures based on ID ideology in the

camps.

Overview of Chapters

This dissertation can be understood as having two parts. One part, which includes

Chapters 2, 3, and 7, examines the ways in which historical events led to ethnic tensions in

Burma, the creation of the camps in Thailand, and the creation of an education system inside

the refugee camps. The second part, including Chapters 4, 5, 6, and 8, analyzes why and how ID

experts crafted specific education policies and the consequences of implementing these

policies were implemented in specific ways.

Chapter 2 presents the beginning of the historical axis of this vertical case study. It

examines the impact of Western imperialism on the formation of Burmese education systems

during the colonial and postcolonial eras. It analyzes British and missionary education and

governance policies to explore methods of social control and forms of ethnic-group resistance

that developed between the 1870s and the 1970s. It argues that British education and

governance policies contributed to the formation of social classes and ethnic tensions within

independent Burma that may have contributed to the ongoing civil conflict. This description of

the origin of the ongoing civil conflict provides the reader with an understanding of how and

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why the conflict continues and the challenges being faced by the GRUM and by the Karen as

Burma prepares to re-enter the international community. It also helps explicate why these

tensions are particularly intense in the educational arena, and what is viewed as being at stake

in current discussions of educational convergence.

Chapter 3 describes the political and geographical context in which the dissertation

research takes place. It describes the middle period of the historical axis, a time when there

was no indication that Burma would rejoin the international community. The belief that Burma

was unlikely to become a member of the international community in the near or intermediate

future, resulted in decisions about the structures of the camp and the camp-based education

system that were based on what different stakeholders could imagine as possible in this

situation. It takes a closer look at the civilians displaced by the ongoing ethnic armed conflicts

and Thailand’s reactions to the displaced people seeking refuge inside its borders, and positions

both of these reactions as efforts to address a local crisis in the context of state and

international policy recommendations and expectations. It argues that Thailand’s policies for

hosting displaced people from Burma were influenced by international agreements, despite the

fact that neither Thailand nor Burma were signatories to the relevant international agreements

(e.g., 1951 Refugee Convention). In particular, it examines the various influences that led to the

decision to allow the formation of camps inside Thailand and what services the camps were

ultimately allowed to provide. The services ultimately allowed included education from

standards (grades) 1-10; the chapter examines the influence of the World Conference on

Education for All on the ID community’s decision to advocate for and the RTG’s decision to

allow education in the camps.

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Chapter 4 examines how a camp-based education system was established in the seven

Karen-dominated camps along the border. It argues that the ID experts’ focus on introducing

best practices associated with technical aspects of education such as teacher training,

materials, and pedagogy, combined with the RTG’s focus on promoting non-Thai identities in

students, opened up a space in which the Karen were able to work with ID professionals to

create an education system that promoted loyalty to the Karen ethnic group, which was and

continues to be unrecognized as a legitimate political entity by the international community. In

this sense, ID experts’ sense of best practices (e.g., use of mother tongue) and lack of

enthusiasm (or in some cases knowledge of) Burma, the Thai government’s focus on refugees

simply not being Thai, and Karen nationalist goals meshed seamlessly during this historical

period in the primary schools to foster future Karen leaders who were steeped in Karen

language and culture. The nation-building outcomes of this system were either unrecognized or

not viewed as problematic during the long period in which Burma was an international pariah.

The adoption of particular official policies can be effectively analyzed using neo-institutionalist

approaches, while the practical realities of the construction of Karen nationalist education

system are best understood through a political economic framework because it emphasizes the

power dynamics that condense around different economic resources and types of political

organizations.

Chapter 5 expands on the idea of the camp-based education system fostering Karen

nationalism by examining the role of the Post-Secondary Education System (PSES) in fostering

Karen leadership. This chapter brings together neo-institutionalism and political economy

theories as it examines the shape and content of the PSES, which was designed for a relatively

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small number of standard 10 graduates. The role of the PSES is to promote Karen students’

familiarity with and understanding of ID ideology in relation to the Karen culture and Karen

nationalist goals, so that these future leaders will be able to interact effectively with the

international community as they advocate for evolving Karen economic, social, and political

needs and wants.

As a result, the shape of and the content taught in the PSES schools reflects the practice

of neo-institutional ideas. However, the decision to shape the PSES system as it is and to use

the teaching and learning materials used is made from a political economic understanding of

the need to reposition the Karen in the international community and the specific resources held

by different actors that can be brought to bear on this goal.

Chapter 6 continues to examine the PSES system, but this time as a lens for diving into

the political economy of school practices. The chapter takes an in-depth look at how the

teaching and learning materials used in the PSES schools were designed and incorporated into

classes. These materials form the basis for the school’s efforts to engage the international

community and create Karen leaders. Using the concept of participation as a lens, Chapter 6

examines the ways in which ID ideology and camp-based Karen ideology are braided together

through PSES decision-making, materials production, and daily education practice. Chapter 6

argues that the ID materials used in the PSES schools can be understood as instruments that

provide PSES students with the tools they would need to speak to and be recognized by ID

actors, while retaining the Karen-ness developed throughout their standard 1-10 education.

This chapter uses curriculum development as a lens with which to go inside PSES schools and

administration to examine how “participation” actually forms educational policies and practices

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at different schools. Looking at the similarities and differences across schools provides insights

into the ways in which different schools within a single system interpret and implement policy

to attempt to successfully achieve the same goals.

In 2010, the situation in Burma changed dramatically. After more than thirty years of

being perceived by the international community as persecuted victims in need of physical and

cultural protection, the Karen (and other ethnic groups in the camps along the border) were

suddenly perceived as Burmese citizens who needed to return to their home country. Chapter 7

examines the political changes that took place among the four key groups now on the scene:

the RTG, the GRUM, ID actors, and the KREG and argues—in parallel to the previous analysis of

educational policy and practice in the camps undertaken in Chapters 4-6—that ID and state-

level government policies surrounding repatriation are “technically expressed but politically

shaped” (Mosse, 2004, p. 15). Specifically, this chapter provides the political, educational and

economic background for the context in which the blending, or “convergence” of the Burmese

education policy and system and the camp-based Karen education policies and system

(discussed in Chapter 8) takes place. It emphasizes the changing political economic relations

among these actors, and how the same neo-institutionalist world society framework helps

explicate the political economic shifts in stakeholders’ understandings of and responses to the

Karen education system.

Chapter 8 examines the effects of the political changes in Burma on the maintenance

and self-determined evolution of the camp-based education system. Chapter 8 argues that the

most recent iterations of participatory methods and international best practices, now being

designed and implemented in Burma, are resulting in an education system planning process

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that favors the ethnic group that controls the state apparatus that is recognized by the

international community (the Burmese, in this case). By favoring the ethnic majority (de facto

conflating nationalist claims with statist claims), these methods and practices inadvertently

work to sustain ethnic tensions inside the Burmese state and between the GRUM and Karen

refugees. At the same time, the international refocusing on the Burmese state is reducing

political and economic support for the camps and the camp-based education system. It is also

reducing support for the envisioning of the Karen government and culture as independent of

Burma.

Chapter 9 provides a summary of the arguments made in the previous chapters and

uses the conceptual framework to link them together. It looks specifically at the ways in which

participation strategies and the power and authority associated with them change as the

objectives of the participatory exercises change. Also, this chapter links the objectives to the

flow of power and the influence the facilitators and participants have on the outcomes.

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CHAPTER 2: EDUCATION IN COLONIAL BURMA

Chapter 2 defines the starting point of the historical axis and introduces the concepts of

socio-political levels used throughout this comparative case study. It does so by examining

some of the factors that contributed to the origin of the ongoing ethnic conflicts in Burma that

resulted in refugee camps and ultimately an education system for ethnic minority refugees

along the Thailand-Burma border. To establish a point of comparison between pre- and post-

colonial ethnic group relationships, this chapter begins by examining the community, kingdom,

and inter-kingdom levels of social organization found in pre-colonial Burma. It then draws on

primary and secondary sources to examine the means of British imperialism utilized in Burma,

including the creation of internationally-recognized state borders and governing bodies. Using

British education and governance policies to explore methods of social control and forms of

ethnic-group resistance, this chapter argues that British colonial policies contributed to the

formation of social classes and ethnic tensions within independent Burma.

Education was one instrument of colonization used by the British to create native elites,

all of whom were from the Bama ethnic group. The native elites were subsequently employed

by the British and thus benefited economically and politically, while other ethnic groups, who

were educated differently or not provided any education opportunities recognized by the

British, were essentially shut out of the governance structure during and after colonization.

Upon independence, the British turned over the governance of Burma to the Bama

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people, who “Burmanized” colonial practices and instituted them in ethnic minority areas.

Burmanization policies extended into education policy by, for example, requiring all classes to

be taught in Burmese language. As a result of this and other Burmanization policies, tensions

and subsequent armed conflict among ethnic groups increased. Chapter 3 will examine the

formation of the refugee camps in Thailand, and Chapters 4, 5, and 6 examine the camp-based

“public” education system, paying close attention to education policies surrounding the nation-

building dimension of the system, some of which continue to reflect colonial and post-colonial

practices. Chapters 7 and 8 address the international political changes that may lead to refugee

repatriation, and the origin and intensity of the controversies surrounding repatriation,

particularly with respect to education policies.

Precolonial Burma: Traditional Burmese Social Structure

During the 11th and 12th centuries, large portions of Asia experienced political upheaval

and a decline in Buddhism. The area that is now considered Burma, however, remained stable,

and in 1044 CE, the king introduced Theravada Buddhism to the people of the area and used it

as a mechanism for nation building within the Kingdom of Ava (Mendelssohn, 1975; Myint-U,

2007; Fink, 2001). The royal elites and subsequent kings were devout believers in Buddhism,

and over time, it became a religion associated with the elites and the peasantry living in the

areas controlled by the monarchy (Myint-U, 2007; Keown & Prebish, 2010).

In contrast to the British, who separated the political and the material from the religious

and the spiritual, the Burmese worldview conceived of spiritual and material resources as

inseparable. In both Siam and Burma, the king legitimized the sangha (Buddhist clergy), and the

sangha legitimized the king; the two were inseparable. However, the balance of power could

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shift between them, with a strong king rendering the sangha less influential and vice versa

(Mendelssohn, 1975). This shifting of power between the king and the sangha resulted in

loosely defined geographic borders for the kingdom of Burma.

Organization of the kingdom. Scott (2009) and Winichakul (1994) described the

relationship of the village with the kingdom as being one in which political influence flowed

outward from the center. The center of the kingdom was sacrosanct and often was demarcated

by a wall surrounding the center of the city. Borders and sovereignty were characterized as

gradients rather than as absolutes, with land and people located further from the center city

being more autonomous. Large kingdoms oversaw smaller kingdoms, and locals paid tribute to

the king(s) they hoped would provide protection. This pattern of influence and sovereignty

often is called a mandala pattern (Scott, 2009; Winichakul, 1994). The concept of borders and

sovereignty as mandala-like spheres of influence was used by both the Thai and the Burmese,

and thus the land along what now is the border separating the two countries was considered to

be relatively unimportant to either kingdom’s sovereignty.

The villages appear to have followed a similar pattern to that of the kingdom, with those

living closest to the center being considered members of the village and those living away from

the center able to pick and choose the monarch(s) and local leader(s) they believed were most

responsive for their protection and other needs (Winichakul, 1994; Bamforth & Van der Stowe,

2000; Nisbet, 1901; Scott, 2009). This led to a network of political affiliations of varying

strengths that shifted regularly, depending on the strength of the leaders.

Due to the sparse population in the highlands and the lowlands, people—not land—

were the scarce resource that leaders attempted to control. To have power, a king must control

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people. This resulted in the people being considered subjects of the kingdom based on their

lineage, not on the location of their residence. Until a lineage became a member of the

kingdom, either by their own desire or by being conquered, they were free to pay tribute to any

kingdom(s) they believed needed to be placated or would provide protection from invasion.

In the Irrawaddy delta and other lowlands between the mountains bounding the

eastern and western edges of the kingdom, the village headmen were called thugyi. The thugyi

were charismatic men who inspired confidence in others, and their role was to provide

leadership in matters that affected the community. Each community gave their thugyi the

authority necessary to manage and administer the community in areas such as mediation, tax

collection, protection, rice production, marriages, membership, etc. The village as a whole was

responsible for paying its annual revenue demand to the king, for rectifying fines if stolen

property was traced to the village, and for compensation if a serious crime was committed and

the perpetrator was identified as a member of the village. Each village occupied a fixed

geographical area and was surrounded by a bamboo or thorny-bush fence with two to four

gates. No one was allowed inside without the consent of the thugyi (Nisbet, 1901).

Village life in the highlands to the east, north, and west of the Irrawaddy delta revolved

around similar power structures; however, the village leaders’ responsibilities reflected the

different lifestyles in the region. As swidden agriculture was the dominant form of agriculture,

communities changed locations regularly to accommodate their agricultural needs. Given their

more remote locations and regular movements, the communities in the mountains were not

strongly aligned to a particular monarch, and thus taxes and tributes were negligible and

leaders focused on harmony within the community and determining when to relocate and

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allow a swidden to re-grow (Bamforth, 2000; Scott, 2006).

Social roles in the village. Socially, above the average lowland villager were the king, his

family, and the thugyi. The social hierarchy also included monks, whose status was determined

by accomplishments in Buddhism, with different accomplishments leading to different states of

enlightenment (Rahula, 1974). This meant that the most accomplished monks, who typically

were older and more experienced, were considered to be senior to the younger, less

experienced novices. The monks’ role in the village was to serve as the moral leaders of the

community. The head of the monastic and royal hierarchies interacted and influenced each

other, each drawing on his expertise and experience to ensure village prosperity. Outside of the

leadership, however, the British perceived the social hierarchy to be relatively flat. “Apart from

the royal house of Alaung Paya [village head] there was no aristocracy whatever in the country.

Owing to the monastic schools, all were about the same low level of education; owing to the

fear of oppression, there were no rich men; and owing to the sparseness of the population,

there were no poor” (Nisbet, 1901, p. 167).

Later anthropologists, however, have indicated that there was a social hierarchy among

the villagers, determined first by age, with elders being the most respected members in the

community, then by gender and leadership roles in society (Fink, 2001). It is likely that British

colonials mostly had contact with the village leaders and were not interested in the social

hierarchies beyond those that affected the interactions between the village and the British.

Limited data are available about the social hierarchies in the highlands prior to

colonization. Based on available reports and data related to the movements and activities of

forest monks collected by Christian missionaries, it is likely that Buddhism had made inroads

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into the highlands but was not considered a unifying belief system. It also is likely that the social

hierarchy was similar to that in the lowlands but reflected the influence of the topography on

the cultures and ways of life (Keown & Prebish, 2010; ABFMS, 1881).

Monastic Education. Virtually every village in the lowlands and some villages in the

highlands had a monastery, with the resident monk(s) providing moral and ethical leadership to

the village as well as education to the boys. Boys entered the monastery to begin their

education when they were about 7 years old and remained in the monastery for at least several

years before disrobing and re-entering mainstream society. Men had the option of becoming

monks for a month or so at a time throughout their lifetimes, so the individuals within the

monastery fluctuated; however, the overall number was fairly constant. Monks did not

contribute to revenue collection because it was considered a sin for monks to touch money, nor

did they contribute to the defense of the village, as violent acts were prohibited. When the men

disrobed, they once again were members of the village and were expected to contribute to

revenue collections, village defense, and daily life (Baptist Missionary Magazine, 1885;

Eberhardt, 2006; Hansen, 2004).

Monastic education was important as a means of practicing and preserving Buddhism,

not as a direct means to knowledge. To be considered human, a boy was required to attend

school and to learn the scriptures. The purpose of education was to sustain sasana, often

translated as “Buddha’s dispensation” or “religion,” and to assist the boy along his path toward

a higher-status rebirth by allowing him to earn merit. Sustaining the sasana and earning merit

were accomplished by the physical acts of learning, including reciting and copying sacred texts.

Typically, a boy entered school with a ceremony called Sang Long, or ordination, which marked

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the initial period he would spend as a monk learning to read the scriptures. He would remain in

the monastery for anywhere from a few months to many years, depending on his aptitude for

scripture, his desires, and the desires of his family. Boys without family often chose to remain in

the monastery until they were adults, as it provided a sense of family and belonging in addition

to shelter and food (Eberhardt, 2006; Mendelssohn, 1975; Turner, 2011).

The Formation of British-Burma

From 1824-1885, the British won three wars with the Kongbaung Dynasty, rulers of the

Kingdom of Ava (MacKenzie, 1995). The East India Co. was interested in the Kingdom’s natural

resources, and it strongly advocated for the acquisition of the Kingdom of Ava in order to

expand the company’s commercial influence. Politically speaking, the British government had

little interest in the kingdom; however, the British were anxious to prevent the French from

using the Kingdom of Ava’s harbors (Myint-U, 2007). Because India was already a colony, the

British had ultimate control over the Indian armed forces, and thus Indian military forces were

used to invade several sections of the Kingdom of Ava. Despite heavy losses on both sides, the

Indian military was successful, and the Kingdom was annexed into India.

The use of military force and the exile of the king left no doubts as to the end of the

Kongbaung Dynasty and the Kingdom’s new status as a British dominion (Hunter, 1881). What

was surprising to the Burmese, however, was that they not only were dominated, but they

were annexed into India; they were not considered a colony in their own right. From 1886-

1937, Burma was ruled as a province of India, and from 1937-1947, it was ruled directly by the

British as a separate British colony. Burma gained independence from Britain in 1948.

Burma, Thailand, and the international landscape. To understand how the country of

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Burma was superimposed onto the Kingdom of Ava, it is helpful to examine Fassin’s (2011)

discussion of borders and boundaries. The political state territories did not correlate to ethnic

group territories, which led to tensions between the British-Burma government and the

highland ethnic groups. Building from Barth’s (1969) discussions of ethnic groups and

boundaries, Fassin built working definitions for “border” and “boundary,” concepts used to

describe these state and ethnic-group territorial edges. “(B)orders were generally viewed as

territorial limits defining political entities (states, in particular) and legal subjects (most notably,

citizens), whereas boundaries were principally considered to be social constructs establishing

symbolic differences (between class, gender, or race) and producing identities (national, ethnic,

or cultural communities)” (Fassin, 2011, p. 214).

The concept of borders and boundaries is useful in distinguishing between the concepts

of nations and states. The “nation” is a socio-cultural entity in which members of the

population identify with each other as sharing a common descent, history, culture, and/or

language. Prior to colonization, various linguistic groups in the highlands between Thailand and

Burma formed numerous nations that were separated by shifting boundaries that

corresponded to the agricultural needs of the ethnic groups in the area.

The “state,” on the other hand, is a body defined geographically by (at least

theoretically) sovereign borders, has a population living within its borders, and has a governing

body (that is, a shared political community) recognized by the population and by foreign states

(Lauletta, 1996). Britain, in its quest for resources and territory, was concerned with creating

colonial state borders, so that they could guarantee political access to resource extraction.

In the mid-19th century, the British negotiated with the Thai government to establish

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borders between British-Burma and Thailand. The British were not interested in conquering

Thailand and were eager to establish a friendly relationship with the Thai government by

creating mutually agreeable borders between Thailand and Burma. The land along the present

Thailand-Burma border was considered unimportant to the Thais, and it was precisely this land

with which the British were concerned. The traditional Southeast Asian conception of

sovereignty viewed territorial concessions at the margins of the kingdom to be routine

expenses incurred to maintain peace within the region. As long as the essence of sovereignty

(the capital city) was unimpaired, such concessions were legitimate policy instruments

(Winichakul, 1994; Bamforth, 2000; Hansen, 2004).

The creation of the border between Siam and Burma was due in part to a

misunderstanding caused by unarticulated assumptions made by both sides during the

negotiations between the Thai and British authorities (Winichakul, 1994). It is likely that the

Siamese kings understood the concept of a border in a way that agrees with Fassin’s (2011)

definition of a boundary, which is in keeping with the concept of a mandala-shaped pattern of

influence in which the local population would negotiate and renegotiate their relations with

various leaders, including, theoretically, with the British. In essence, the Siamese kings

understood borders as three-dimensional, meaning that borders between countries were wide,

with unclaimed territory between states, as opposed to the British conception of borders as

two-dimensional planes separating states, with all territory being claimed.

Given the history of governance in the area, the thought of demarcating an actual

interface was not of interest to the Siamese king, nor was it his duty, and if the British were so

inclined to do so, it was up to them to work with the locals in the area to determine where a

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line of sorts might go. Borders such as this were considered a matter for ethnic groups and local

residents to decide, as it was people, not land, that the king sought to control. The British

leadership, however, understood the concept of a border as a two-dimensional line that

categorized the territory on either side as belonging to respective sovereign actors. For their

part, the British sought to control land, not people, and so were looking for agreement on the

part of other sovereigns that the British would have control over land. Further, they perceived

the territory in question to be “uninhabited” due to a lack of recognizable social structures and

thus saw no need to engage the local population in discussions about appropriate placement of

the border (Winichakul, 1994; Bamforth, 2000; Hansen, 2004). When the Thai kings learned of

the miscommunication, they accepted the definition of the new border rather than argue for a

reconceptualization of how the territory at the interfaces of adjacent sovereign states was

governed. This may be due in part to the transformation taking place within Thailand’s political

and religious entities at the time.

During the border negotiation in the late 1870s-1880s, Thailand’s monarchy and sangha

were involved in transforming the interpretation of traditional Buddhist scriptures and stories

from a cosmological and mythological interpretation to an interpretation based to some degree

on scientific rationalism. The separation of science from religion began with King Mongkut

(1851-1868) and was adopted fully by King Chulalongkorn (1868-1910) as a result of

interactions with scientists, scholars, and politicians from Europe. King Chulalongkorn believed

in the rationality of science itself, and he was eager to gain acceptance from the Western

political elite. He pushed his royal court and the sangha to adopt some of the ideas of scientific

rationalism, which eventually led to a corresponding modification in the worldview of the

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political and religious leaders throughout Southeast Asia (Hansen, 2004; Winichakul, 1994;

Keown & Prebish, 2010). This modification changed the socio-geographical nature of space and

its political division for Siamese and Burmese people. Borders became more politically and

socially meaningful, and travel between the states was suddenly governed. The European

system of states, developed in 1648 with the Peace of Westphalia, began to be practiced in

mainland Southeast Asia (Philpott, 2010).

For governmental purposes, the British border changed the political identification of the

people living in the area between the Burmese and Siamese kingdoms, from ethnic tribe

members to subjects of the British crown. Prior to the creation of the border, these ethnic

groups did not consider themselves a regular part of any kingdom. The administrative

structures of the Kingdom of Ava did not have a presence in the area, and treaties signed by the

ethnic minority leadership and supported by the administrative structure located throughout

the area established the independence of ethnic minority groups from the principality of Chiang

Mai. These absences and presences form the basis for ongoing claims of independence by the

Karen, Kayah, Mon, and Shan ethnic minority groups (Bamforth & Van der Stowe, 2000; Fink,

2001).

The border negotiations between the British and the Siamese took place in Chiang Mai

(the Siamese capital city); the people living along the border were not involved in the creation

of or even initially informed of the changes that had taken place. The map became the ultimate

weapon against indigenous knowledge and culture as the hegemony of cartography produced

the border between Burma and Siam. The scientifically rational discourse that surrounded

cartography defined maps as scientifically accurate representations of reality, thus lending an

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air of naturalness and rationality to the borders drawn by those in power (Winichakul, 1994;

Tuu Reh, 2012).

British administration of Burma. In 1857, the British reorganized the government of

India to allow it to have more power and influence in its own governance, and to further

expand Indian influence, the British designated British-Burma a province of India. In doing so,

many of the duties necessary for colonizing British-Burma were “subcontracted” to the Indian

military and junior officers. Colonization was to be accomplished by the Indian officers under

the direct supervision of the British. British officers served as the commissioner in chief and

commissioners of divisions (i.e., commissioners of provinces), and Indian officers served in

many of the administrative posts within the colonial bureaucratic structure (Fryer, 1867;

Chisholm, 1910). It appears as though the British government had no real interest in directly

colonizing British-Burma; the colonization began as a concession to the East India Co. and was

completed by the government of India.

Despite the differences in ethnicities, worldviews, and in the topography and resulting

differing agricultural practices between the highland and lowland people, many of the British

administrative systems were developed for the lowland people and then also implemented in

the highlands. In the highlands, they were received with confusion and misunderstanding

caused in part by the fact that the highland people were largely unaware of the incorporation

of their land into the British Raj and the subsequent changes to their political identity (Imperial

Gazetteer of India, 1908; Nisbet, 1901; Winichakul, 1994).

British authorities implemented the administrative systems in the mountainous

borderlands and in the flat interior lowlands differently. The lowlands were relatively easy to

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access, were the source of exportable quantities of rice, and were home to many monasteries

and monastic schools, as most of the Bama people accepted and practiced Buddhist teachings.

Being familiar with what they perceived to be an agrarian society strongly rooted in religion, the

British introduced an administrative system that included an English-style education system to

the lowlands.

The highlands, on the other hand, were difficult to access, had large quantities of

extractable resources, such as gemstones and teak, and did not have unifying religious

institutions easily recognizable by the British. The British considered the ethnic minority tribes

in the highlands to be “nomadic” and “blood-thirsty,” especially in comparison to the Bama

ethnic majority that lived mostly in established villages in the lowlands (Nisbet, 1901).

Due to their remote locations, reputation for being “savages,” and ironically, the British

respect for power, the British decided to administer the highlands through local administrative

structures already in place with the thugyi, who now were required to report to the chief

commissioner of British Burma. This eliminated the need for British commissioners of divisions

in the ethnic minority states and left the lower ranking officials from the government of India to

administer them. This also relieved the British of the responsibility for the departments of

public service, including education (Bamforth & Van der Stowe 2000; Hunter, 1881; Nisbet

1901; Trocki, 1999). As was the case in a number of British and other European colonies, the

provision of education to the ethnic majority Bama people and not to the ethnic minority

people facilitated the production of social-class tensions between Bama elites and ethnic

minority people that would have lasting repercussions (Chatterjee, 1993).

Education under British rule (1890s-1940s). Prior to colonization, education was

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understood by the Bama as a path toward enlightenment; it also maintained and promoted

Theravada Buddhism as a defining characteristic of Bama identity. Prior to colonization, the

Buddhist (i.e., ethnic majority) Burmese worldview was characterized by merit-related karma

and rebirth. Improving one’s karma by honoring fields of merit such as the king or the sangha

was an important part of daily life. The Buddhist Burmese defined success as individual

enlightenment and the preservation of sasana, both of which are internally realized (Turner,

2011).

Individuals’ identities were formed in part by their family and the internal and external

processes that they undertook to increase their merit. The Buddhist Burmese perceived

conventional reality as consisting of both physical and moral dimensions. The ultimate truth

could be found only in enlightenment, which was dependent on nondualistic thought (Bhikkhu

Buddhadasa, 1989; Keown & Prebish, 2010; Rahula, 1974).

The Burmese perceived education as a method of sustaining sasana and assisting boys

on the path to enlightenment. The Burmese believed in a meritocracy based on one’s karmic

status and the amount of merit earned in prior lives and in the present life. In Burma, successful

education took into account a boy’s forward movement toward enlightenment and the

community service rendered by sustaining sasana. The act of learning—the chanting itself (not

any possible outcome of the chanting)—was necessary to sustain sasana; thus, education

benefited both the individual and society by the act of learning (chanting) itself, not necessarily

any “learning” that may have occurred (Nisbet, 1901; Hunter, 188; Darlington, 2012; Samuels,

2004; Turner, 2011).

Each community had access to a monastery school at which the males of the family

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learned to read and write scripture. Given the cultural and religious importance of education,

the literacy rate in Burma prior to 1910 was much higher than that of India and in fact rivaled

the literacy rates in England (Chrisholm, 1910). Given the understanding of education, it is likely

that the reading and writing displayed to the British by the Burmese was a form of religious

prayer emanating from the center of the body rather than a display of cerebral logic and

comprehension of texts, which is how the British interpreted these “acts of literacy” (author’s

own). In essence, the Burmese valued the process (e.g., chanting and repeating) and its spiritual

ramifications over the visible outcomes (e.g., literacy skills, test scores, etc.) of education.

During the colonial period, the British drew on what were then considered best practices to

initiate an education system in Burma. Using the monastic and Christian schools as the system’s

foundation, the first British commander of Burma called for the formation of a statewide

education system. The British initiated colonial education systems by interweaving the systems

in place (including, often, missionary systems as well as other traditional education systems)

with a bureaucratized colonial system, taking into account the desired immediate outcomes of

legitimacy and loyalty and the long-term vision the British empire had for its subjects.

As with so many of their administrative systems, the British approach to launching

colonial education systems in the region differed between the lowlands and the highlands.

While the education provided in the lowland schools used Burmese language as the medium of

instruction and focused on human capital development, the highland system was based largely

on existing Christian missionary schools and focused on religious conversion using ethnic

minority languages. Nevertheless, both systems evaluated students in the same ways (e.g.,

written exams), and focused assessment on the skills and knowledge a student could display to

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the teachers.

Education in British-Burma

The different methods used to administer territories throughout the country were

reflective of the different educational systems found in various regions. Education in the

predominantly Buddhist lowlands became a joint venture, with both the British and the sangha

participating in its implementation. The majority of the education in the ethnic minority-

dominated highland territories, however, was provided by Christian missionaries with little

oversight from the British government or the sangha. The provision of education in Burma

highlights the varying purposes of education as understood by different worldviews. The

Christian missionaries, the ethnic-majority Bama Buddhists, and the British understood the role

of education in the development of the people and the country differently, despite the fact that

on the surface, the classrooms looked relatively similar.

Education in the highlands. While the British imposed national borders on Burma that

incorporated a number of hill tribes and ethnic minorities, including the Karen, Kayah, Wa, and

Shan, they did not assume responsibility for the education of the people living there. The Shan,

Kachin, and Chin minorities were virtually ignored by the British Department of Public

Instruction (DPI), due to their remote locations. Baptist and Catholic missionaries experienced

success in using education to convert ethnic-minority groups living in the delta to Christianity,

and thus were content to be involved in the provision of education for many of the other ethnic

minorities living in the highlands (Nisbet, 1901; ABFMS, 1885; Houtman, 1990; Bamforth &Van

der Stowe, 2000).

The American Baptist missionaries arrived in Burma as early as 1807. They understood

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education as a vehicle for saving individual souls by converting them to Christianity. They

initially worked with ethnic majority and minority members in the lowlands, where

communities initiated schools inside churches. The Burmese (both Bama, the ethnic majority,

and Karen, an ethnic minority) were willing to attend church only if it was associated with

school; thus, one hour per day was dedicated to religious education, and the remainder of the

school day was reserved for secular subjects. This ratio of religious courses to secular courses

was a cause for concern by some missionaries because they believed that the cost of education

was taking away from the funds that could be spent on religious conversions.

Contention also existed between the missionaries over when students should be

allowed into school: Some missionaries believed that attendance at mission schools should

follow conversion, while others saw the value of allowing attendance prior to conversion, in the

hopes that the religious education would convince students, and possibly their parents, to

convert to Christianity (Nisbet, 1901; ABFMS, 1885). An effective method of conversion,

according to multiple articles in the Baptist Missionary Magazine (1881, 1885), was to offer

literacy and morality education to children based on the Bible. The missionaries also provided

basic mathematics education and other secular subjects, depending on the beliefs and desires

of the local communities (Judson, 1832).

The missionaries had limited success in converting devout Buddhists to Christianity;

however, they were much more successful in preaching to and converting the ethnic minorities

who lived in the highlands, because their belief systems allowed them to more-easily

incorporate Christian principles and practices into their lives (Bamforth & Van der Stowe, 2000;

Judson, 1832). The Karen living in the lowlands were particularly open to the Christian schools,

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and they were willing to leave the monastic schools and attend the Baptist church as a requisite

for attending Christian schools. While the Karen were open to converting to Christianity, they

were unreceptive to converting to Buddhism. Converting to Buddhism was associated with

forced conversion to Bama culture and oppression, whereas converting to Christianity was

associated with ideals of modernization (ABFMS, 1885; Metro, 2015).

Because the British and Indian colonials perceived there to be little benefit from

providing education to the ethnic minorities in the highlands, they were particularly amenable

to facilitating the work of the Christian missionaries in these areas. The British government

began to offer education grants-in-aid to mission schools located in the Burmese highlands. The

school buildings built with government funds formed the basis for the churches in the Karen

areas, as opposed to the church and outreach work funded by the missionaries forming the

basis and reason for the school, as was happening in the Bama areas (ABFMS, 1885; Nisbet,

1901; Whitehead, 2007).

In 1867, the British colonial government in Rangoon passed the grant-in-aid rules, based

on a precedent set in Bengal. The grant-in-aid program was similar to the current-day matching

grant program: “In no case will the Government grant exceed in amount the sum to be

expended on a school from private sources” (Fryer, 1867, p. 543), with the explicit mandate

that the grants were to enhance the quality of public education, not to reduce the private cost

of education. Much of the funding was spent on the production and distribution of teaching

and learning materials, with virtually all teacher compensation being the responsibility of the

communities. In return for the grant-in-aid, the government reserved the right to inspect

recipient schools at any time to “judge from results whether a good secular education is

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practically imparted or not” (Fryer, 1867, p. 544). Grants were subject to conditions of review

every five years.

Accountability measures were left to the commissioners of divisions, who in turn hired

deputy commissioners and superintendents of schools. Grants-in-aid were awarded to

monastic schools based on both characteristics of the school (an average daily attendance of 12

or more students and at least four months of classes) and school performance (a minimum of

four students who were able to read and write in the vernacular language). In addition to

monastic schools, Christian missionary schools throughout Burma also were eligible to receive

grants-in-aid. Grants awarded to missionary schools were based on different school

characteristics, including teacher qualification, fees, and discipline records. Interestingly,

missionary schools were not subject to school performance requirements (Nisbet, 1901),

presumably because they were considered to be of a “higher standard” than the monastic

schools—thus the assumption that they automatically would meet the school performance

requirements with a clear division between secular and religious subjects (Fytche, 1878).

This arrangement also let the missionaries in the highlands use their resources

exclusively for missionary work because the British provided funds for the schools. “The Bible is

taught daily and preaching services kept up on the Sabbath, without the cost of a single pice to

the mission”, Baptist missionary Dr. Vinton wrote in his report published by Baptist Missionary

Magazine in 1885 (p. 216). As such, the missionaries were content to move into the highlands

and continue their missionary work, because they believed they could have a greater impact on

the religious lives of people living in an area where Buddhism was not considered a part of the

people’s cultures and identities.

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By facilitating missionary education in the highlands, the British created parallel school

systems, one serving the Bama people who lived mostly in the lowlands and one serving the

ethnic minorities who lived mainly in the highlands. The goal of the missionary schools was to

save souls, whereas the goal of the British schools was to produce a trained colonial workforce,

but the lack of territorial overlap made it possible to overlook the differences in these systems

and their rationales and to concentrate on the similarities, such as the need for adult teachers

in classrooms, literacy and mathematics instruction, and the need for teaching and learning

materials.

The symbiotic relationship between the missionaries and the government was further

evidenced by the Baptist mission printing press, located in Taungoo town, Shan state, adjacent

to what is now the Kayah state border. The missionaries had an agreement with the

government to print government-funded school books for the mission schools, including Bibles.

“The Press is becoming more and more a great light in a dark land” (ABFMS, 1885, p. 221).

Materials were printed in the vernacular language, because the missionaries felt obliged to

preach in the vernacular in order to convert as many souls as possible. This being the case, the

materials for and the medium of instruction in the “jungle schools” was the dominant

indigenous language in the area, with Karen being by far the dominant language, whereas

Burmese was the medium of instruction and materials in the lowlands (Thawnghmung, 2008;

Bamforth & Van der Stowe, 2000; ABFMS, 1885).

Education in the lowlands. Communities throughout the lowlands hosted monastic

schools. The Buddhists perceived education as a method of sustaining sasana and assisting boys

on the path to enlightenment. This education system was based on a worldview characterized

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by merit, karma, and rebirth. The physical appearance of the monastic schools was similar to an

older version of British education, with a teacher at the head of the class, only boys allowed to

participate, and regular in-class recitations, although the purpose of the monastic schools was

decidedly different. The British believed that education was a tool for civilizing lower social

classes and creating an administrative workforce and did not question the understood purpose

of monastic schools—they looked like something quite familiar. Given their perception of

multiple similarities in the education systems, the British initiated an education system in the

lowlands that would combine the Buddhist system with the British one.

The convergence of the British and Bama visions of education was initiated by Sir Arthur

Phayre. Sir Arthur was a highly respected Anglo-Indian officer who served in the British Indian

Army (aka, the Indian Army) and was among the first chief commissioners of Burma. He was

appointed chief commissioner largely based on his friendly relationship with King Mindon, the

last king of Ava, and his role was to act as a liaison between the British and the Burmese

(Laurie, 1887; Myint-U, 2007).

In one sense, Sir Arthur was a product of his times and strongly believed in the idea of

education as a tool for civilizing colonial subjects and lower-class people in Britain. Popular

consensus in Victorian society indicated that education, literacy in particular, was necessary for

proper moral development and social control (Dressler & Mandair, 2011, p. 228). On the other

hand, he was unusually devoted to Burma as a state and to the Bama as a people. He was

impressed with the indigenous school system that preceded by centuries the missionary or

colonial schools, and he noted that the literacy rate of the Burmese was much higher than that

of India, owing to the fact that the monastic schools were located in virtually every village

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(Nisbet, 1901, p. 253). Such a high literacy rate, he reasoned, proved that the Burmese people

not only were intelligent but also were capable of being “civilized.”

The legend of Burma’s near-universal literacy rates was well accepted by the British,

despite data that showed otherwise (Bell, 1881). The first British census of Burma, taken in

1872, showed literacy rates to be 24.4% for men and 1.4% for women, statistics that placed

Burma literacy rates between those of India and Great Britain. However, the mythology of

Burma’s literacy was so strong that the census takers themselves disputed the accuracy, citing

personal experiences as anecdotal evidence of much higher rates (Turner, 2011; Chrisholm,

1910). Sir Arthur wrote, “There was no doubt that Burma was one of the best educated

countries in the East. The people seemed anxious to learn; the monks taught them

uncommonly well. . . not a doubt there was a great future before them” (Bell, 1881).

Given Sir Arthur’s connections in both India and England and his position in the Indian

Army of the British Raj, it is highly likely that he was familiar with Macaulay’s speech, known as

the Macaulay Minute, to the Indian Parliament in 1835. This speech expounded on the

“intrinsic superiority” of Western literature and science and called for the implementation of

modernizing projects, including an expansion of the education system, the promotion of English

language as the language of instruction after primary school, and the creation of a separate

class of native elites to serve as translators between the British administrators and the

indigenous people. Macaulay touted the beneficence of the British government in providing

such an education (Macaulay, 1835; Fytche, 1878; Bell, 1881; Viswanathan, 1989;

Sachsenmaier, 2009).

In 1866, Sir Arthur formed the first Education Department of British-Burma, with the

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mandate to ensure access to quality education for both male and female students (Fytche,

1878; Bell, 1881; Turner, 2011; Nisbet, 1901). Sir Arthur perceived the level of literacy and the

number of indigenous schools to be sufficient to form the backbone of a provincial education

system separate from but related to India’s education system. He handpicked British officers

who were serving in the Indian Department of Education to design and implement an education

system for Burma (Bell, 1881; Fytche, 1878).

Sir Arthur was instrumental, in part through his emphasis on crafting a colonial

education system, in modifying the British colonization practices in Burma from a focus on

short-term resource extraction to an imperialization project that also focused on the long-term

development of Burma. From Sir Arthur’s perspective, this meant a modernization of the

Burmese culture and people through enhanced economic development and education.

Education represented an investment in the imperial domination of Burma and a long-term

potential link between the mother state and the colony.

Chatterjee (1993) discussed the role of the dominator as one of reproducing or

facilitating the reproduction of the dominating power, albeit in an attenuated form, by a native,

elite class. Thompson and Garratt, referenced in Chatterjee, call this reproduction and

facilitation of the production of power via native elites the “permanent mark” of domination. In

turn, the implementation of policies that build this elite class has lasting effects on the

expression and understanding of nationalism, historicism, and identity of the formerly

colonized people. For this reason, it is imperative to take into account both precolonial and

colonial educational and social relations in Burma when analyzing and planning education

policy to direct present and future education programming in the country.

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These British planners understood the importance and influence of Buddhism in the

lowland Bama society: “No plan had any chance of success if it was likely to interfere with the

time-honoured national system of elementary instruction or if it tended to arouse suspicion or

hostility on the part of the monks or the people” (Nisbet, 1901, p. 255). The newly formed

Education Department was anxious to gain the trust of the sangha while limiting its role in

political administration as much as possible (Hunter, 1881; Nisbet, 1901).

To limit the influence of the sangha, the Education Department created a separation

between religious and secular content in schools, a categorization that had not existed in the

traditional monastic schools. At the elementary level, the British requested the pongyi, monks

assigned to teach in the monasteries, to incorporate British education standards into the

monastic schools and encouraged lay individuals and Christian missionaries to provide access to

education for girls (Hunter, 1881; Dhammasami, 2004; Fytche, 1878). At the secondary level,

students could choose to focus on secular content and prepare for advancement in the secular

world or choose to focus on religious content and prepare for advancement within the sangha.

The British felt justified in claiming their educational policies to be socially neutral, as they were

not removing any of the content previously taught in monastic schools; rather, they were

simply adding to it and offering boys a choice in secondary school (Bell, 1881).

Despite the different purposes for education, the British, Christian, and Buddhist

systems shared a key commonality: Students were indoctrinated into the worldviews of their

cultures via schools, including a definition of meritocracy and a clear sense of the social

purposes that schooling was expected to play. The British believed in a meritocracy based on

science and logic. The British prioritized the future usefulness of a student’s education to

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develop and modernize their colonies and measured educational success by testing students’

abilities to use scientific and mathematical calculations to solve problems. The Christians

prioritized religious conversion over scientific meritocracy; however, they measured

educational success in a manner similar to that of the British, thus focusing on the future utility

of education. The Burmese believed in a meritocracy based on one’s karmic status and on the

amount of merit earned in prior lives and the present life. They prioritized the immediate

maintenance of sasana and measured educational success daily by observing the order and

harmony of the monastery during the lessons (Judson, 1832; Fytche, 1878; Turner, 2011).

Education administration. By 1881, the British-Burma education system was composed

of a large number of monastic, Christian, and lay primary schools housing standards 1-5, middle

schools housing standards 6-7, and high schools responsible for standards 8-10, after which,

students were eligible to apply for matriculation into Rangoon College. Because accountability,

hierarchy, and success were an integral part of the education experience, annual provincial

examinations were instituted in 1880 (Nisbet, 1901; Bell, 1881). Certain schools in urban areas

were subsidized by merchants and officials and thus were able to purchase educational

equipment, such as a telescope, that no rural school could imagine. The urban areas were

located in the lowlands and populated largely by ethnic majority Bama. These schools were the

foundation of the native elite, who would begin to use education to form and maintain a

political social hierarchy where none had existed before (ABFMS, 1885; Whitehead, 2007;

Sachsenmaier, 2009). This political hierarchy differentiated not only social classes within the

Bama ethnic majority, but also highlighted and enhanced the social, political, religious, and

class differences between the ethnic majority and ethnic minority groups that lived in the

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highlands.

In 1891, the Education Code was published in order to articulate the British

government’s role in education. This role was limited to assisting, regulating, and inspecting

schools; the British government specifically indicated that its role was not to found or manage

schools. The task of providing Burmese children with access to education was left to the pongyi

and the missionaries. To fulfill its managerial role, the British government would use the grants-

in-aid scheme as a mechanism to inspect and partially fund schools (Nisbet, 1901).

Negotiating and implementing education reform. Originally, British technical

assistance, which took the form of curriculum construction and provision and teacher training,

was tied to the grants-in-aid program and offered only to monastery schools in the principal

towns; however, over time, the British found that the monks were not implementing the new

curriculum and new teaching methods as quickly or as effectively as the British had hoped. The

British-Burma Education Department decided that a better option would be to develop a

parallel system of education made up of nonmonastic schools and monastic schools (Nisbet,

1901; Fytche, 1878; Bell, 1881; Whitehead, 2007).

To entice the schools to accept the education reforms, the administration tied them to

the grants-in-aid program. To qualify for assistance, schools were required to have content,

including mathematics, geography, and land surveying, as the British perceived this as

necessary for the formation of a native, elite class who understood and benefitted from the

British conception of borders and trade. Another requirement for receiving grants-in-aid was to

modify the pedagogy traditionally used (students chanting long sections of religious text) to

reflect the subject-specific methodologies, such as memorizing isolated facts within each

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subject, promoted in Britain. While the Burmese considered a classroom with noise and

movement to be an effective one, the British perceived a quiet, calm classroom to signify

effective teaching and learning. Some of the monastic schools accepted the grants-in-aid;

however, the pongyi did not embrace the new content. The British, thinking themselves

benevolent, continued funding the grants, monitoring the schools, and reporting unsatisfactory

progress in the new content areas. From a technical point of view, the British seemed to believe

that the pongyi accepted the new content but had great difficulty in teaching it. From an ethical

perspective, the British believed that by offering the new content and pedagogy, they were

paving the road for Burmese social development and modernization (Dhammasami, 2004;

Nisbet, 1901; Fytche, 1878; Turner, 2011).

The policies Britain enacted allowed the inclusion of “religious” content to continue

unabated, and specifically prohibited imperial administration, including assessment and

support, of these curricula. As part of their education policy implementation procedure, the

British awarded financial grants-in-aid based “only on the principle of perfect religious

neutrality,” meaning that teaching methods and student achievement were to be assessed only

in nonreligious subjects (Nisbet, 1901). They believed this would ensure a fair evaluation of the

monastic as well as lay schools (Fryer, 1867; Bell, 1881).

The “religious neutrality” advocated by the British effectively created the category of

religion, and by implication a category of secularism, in Burma. The British did not intend to

create new categories; rather, they perceived the addition of new secular content to the

religious content as a sign of their progressive, inclusive values and as adding both an ethical

dimension and civility to the educational process. The ethical, or meritocratic, characteristic of

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the “secular” system allowed both boys and girls to participate and led to skill-based

competencies and eventually to the possibility of salaried jobs with accompanying economic

and social benefits (Nisbet, 1901).

Sir Arthur’s successor, Lt. Col. Fytche, noted several challenges to implementing the

education system that Sir Arthur had not addressed. While Sir Arthur focused specifically on

what he considered to be educational infrastructure, Fytche focused on both the logistics of

providing access to education and on the intended purpose of education as perceived by the

British and by the Burmese.

Fytche pointed out that during the 1850s, while Sir Arthur was focusing on the logistics

of providing access to a neutral, secular education for Bama children, his friend, King Mindon,

was also involved in education reform in Burma. His reforms included ridding the monastic

schools of any curricula not explicitly leading to the preservation of sasana (Nisbet, 1901;

Turner, 2011; Fytche, 1878; Mendelssohn, 1975). Due to Sir Arthur’s singular focus on access

and expressed disinterest in engaging questions about the role of Buddhism, it is likely that he

was unaware of the type of educational reforms initiated by King Mindon, and King Mindon was

unlikely to have been aware of Sir Arthur’s educational reforms and the secular curriculum,

given that their friendship did not include discussions of religion.

In the context of King Mindon’s 1850’s education reforms, the Bama, in particular the

pongyi, increasingly perceived the monastic schools as inappropriate venues for teaching the

new British content. As the purpose of education was to preserve sasana, it was unethical and

unmeritocratic to use the monastic schools to teach other topics to all children because, unlike

education that preserved sasana, these other topics did not differentiate between those whose

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meritorious past lives had earned a higher station in this life from those who, due to karmic

deficits, were born into a lower station in life. Additionally, topics such as geography and land

surveying did not work to preserve sasana. The pongyi did, however, understand the

importance of the new content to the British, so when presented with books of new content,

the pongyi placed them with the sacred Pali texts and acknowledged their sacredness to the

British as they paid homage to the Pali texts (Turner, 2011; Fytche, 1878).

These conflicting perceptions of the role of education resulted in a second reservation

to the addition of the new content: Some of the senior monks feared that if the junior monks

were to learn these additional content areas, they might decide to leave the sangha for a life in

the lay world (Dhammasami, 2004; Fytche, 1878; Macaulay, 1835). The monks seemed to be

aware of the potential for the new content and pedagogies to facilitate changes to their

worldview, with the changes fostered by a newly intensified capitalist economy. The monks

feared that popular acceptance of a scientific-rational worldview would result in a loss in their

social status and a waning importance of their role of providing moral guidance for the

community.

From a Bama teacher’s point of view, teaching was meritorious and thus increased one’s

karma. From a Bama student’s point of view, studying and memorizing texts was a step toward

enlightenment. While the vast majority of schools were monastic schools, there also were a

number of lay schools, administered by lay individuals. These lay schools admitted female

students, because the girls were anxious to move toward the possibility of being a male human

in the next life and because the teachers were interested in earning merit, despite the fact that

both the karmic merit and the earthly support (e.g., food and clothing provided to the teachers

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from the community) earned for teaching girls was negligible compared to teaching boys. This

resulted in relatively high rates of turnover for lay teachers. It also resulted in socially

acceptable access to education for girls that was not found in other parts of Asia; “. . . and as it

[female education] forms the basis for all national development, it has naturally been more

prominently considered in Burma than in India, by all who have been interested in the future

welfare of the people” (Fytche, 1878; Great Britain, 1854).

Despite noting the importance of female education for national development, the

British did not foresee such national development in terms of the Bama people directly taking

part in a global political economy—this was the colonizer’s role. For this reason, the education

offered in the state schools was in the Burmese language, with limited English language classes

available in the state-sponsored middle schools. The purpose of adding English to a limited

number of schools was to cultivate and nurture an elite class of educated Bama who then

would serve as liaisons between the British and the Bama people via the colonial

administration. However, the British did not deem it important to teach English language to the

majority of the Bama students or to assist in the provision of education beyond that which the

monks and missionaries were providing (Nisbet, 1901; Macaulay, 1835; Great Britain, 1854).

Changing purposes of education. As a result of the 1917 Imperial War Conference,

which established autonomy for dominion states in the British Empire, Britain’s policy toward

education in Burma shifted from one focused solely on training workers to one that worked to

foster the legitimacy of British and Indian colonial rule. The British examined the system of

education that was in place to determine the most effective and least costly routes for the

imperial government to intervene (GOB, 1917). This can be interpreted as a shift from the

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British conceptualization of education as a tool for development and modernization of Burmese

society to that of a tool for legitimization and overt efforts at psychological colonization, or

imperialism.

The government of Burma’s 1917 publication “Report of the Committee appointed to

ascertain and advise how the Imperial Idea may be inculcated and fostered in Schools and

Colleges in Burma” called for active and conscious loyalty to the Imperial connection. The

Imperial Idea was defined as a sense of unity of the Empire, in which all peoples and nations,

despite diversities, were bound together by common beliefs in “justice and right.” The

committee advised that these bonds were best strengthened by way of self-sacrifice and co-

operation for the sake of the Empire. The report went on to explain that because very little had

been done to foster the Imperial Idea amongst the Bama, it was necessary to provide

recommendations for the inculcation of the citizens into the British Imperial Way through the

education system.

The above report limited its discussions of citizen-creating curricula and practices to

primary education, with higher education being reserved for learning content and trades,

assuming that one’s loyalty to the crown was no longer in question. As a result, higher

education took on a different, more utilitarian, meaning in Burma.

Higher education. The following subsection examines the role of higher, or post-

secondary, education in the formation of native elites and the reproduction of colonial social

hierarchies and structures. The strategies of reproduction experienced by Bama students in

institutes of higher learning mirrored the experiences of primary and secondary students. These

experiences included the modification of traditional content and pedagogy, the initiation of a

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division of religious and secular subjects and the introduction of secular content, and the

differentiation of education provision and language policies used in the ethnic minority versus

ethnic majority areas.

In 1901, professional schools in Burma reflected only the needs of the British

bureaucracy, which were limited to border formation and resource extraction, with Normal

schools necessary to ensure a continuous supply of educated Bama. The opportunities for

professional education in Burma included five Normal schools, two Land Survey schools that

were administered by the colonial director of land and agriculture, a forestry school, and an

elementary engineering school. Because no medical education was available in Burma, students

interested in studying medicine were obliged to attend Calcutta University. All of the

professional schools used English as the medium of instruction, with the exception of the

Vernacular Forestry School, which was explicitly “for the training of subordinates” (Nisbet,

1901, p. 247). By using English as the medium of instruction for the professional schools, the

British assured that the graduates would be able to take on the role of translators and junior

associates in the bureaucratic hierarchy.

In the early 20th century, the options for higher education in Burma included further

religious study within the sangha to become a senior monk or academic study at Rangoon

College or Rangoon Baptist College. Rangoon College was the first institution of higher

education established in Burma and was affiliated with Calcutta University. Rangoon Baptist

College, an institute of higher learning affiliated with the American Baptist church, was a private

university that infused religion into all topics of further study. The medium of instruction at

both of these colleges was English, and both were eager to be regarded as first-class academic

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institutions. The criteria for a first-class institution appeared to be the ability of students to pass

the Calcutta University entrance exam, with both the Baptists and the Rangoon College

administration claiming that the scores on the university entrance exams were proof that the

people of Burma were equal in intelligence to any other race (ABFMS, 1885; Nisbet, 1901).

The British Department of Public Instruction discussed developing a university in Burma;

however, they decided that progress in higher education was slow and that the institutions

available “. . . afford[ed] quite adequate facilities for all the existing needs in this direction”

(Nisbet, 1901, p. 259). Unfortunately, no data are available on the number of applications or

acceptance rates. The Baptist Missionary Magazine indicated that in 1885, Rangoon Baptist

College was progressing well and enrolled 110 students, but by 1901, the average daily

attendance was nine students. The decline may have been due to deficit spending or to the

numerous health problems faced by the missionaries (ABFMS, 1885). Rangoon College had 89

students in 1901; however, no information is given to indicate whether this number is

enrollment or attendance. The limited amount of higher education may be reflective of Britain’s

lack of interest in developing the country beyond what was needed for resource extraction and

public order.

Baptist missionaries opened the Karen Theological Seminary (KTS) in 1845 in Moulmein,

and moved to Rangoon in 1859. Both Moulmein and Rangoon were dominated by Bama

people, and Burmese was the primary language used in both towns. The students at KTS,

however, came from Karen state, where the medium of education was the Karen language, and

thus they were not fluent in Burmese. Their language, Karen, was considered inferior by the

Bama majority, making evangelism difficult for aspiring Karen preachers. These locations did

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have advantages, however, as they situated KTS at a crossroads between Rangoon and the

hinterland, so traveling Western preachers often were present to give sermons and lectures to

the students (ABFMS, 1885). Interestingly, the practice of traveling preachers stopping at KTS is

a mirror image of the traditional Buddhist practice of wandering forest monks preaching to

villages along their way. The parents of the students may have been familiar with the forest

monks, because they had wandered the mountains along the Thailand and Burma border for

centuries before the British arrived (Rahula, 1974).

Postcolonial Burma: The Thailand and Burma Border

As local understanding of the consequences of the two-dimensional border increased,

many ethnic groups were forced to confront their division as a result of the politically defined

border between Thailand and Burma. This resulted in people of the same ethnicity being

subject to the laws of different countries. Given the spatiality of the border, it was not

uncommon for families to be split between Thailand and Burma, and as the focus on border

security increased, their ability to visit each other was increasingly limited due to government

restrictions on immigration. This section will examine ethnic identity and citizenship on either

side of the border.

Burma’s military government. Burma won its independence from Britain just after

World War II. As the newly independent country began to face the challenges of demarcating

its borders, the ethnic minority groups living around the periphery began to call for their

independence. Prior to colonization, these ethnic groups did not consider themselves part of

either the Burmese or Thai kingdoms. The administrative structures of the Burmese Kingdom

did not have a presence in the area, and treaties signed by the ethnic minority leadership and

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supported by the administrative structures located throughout the area established the

independence of ethnic minority groups from the principality of Chiang Mai. These absences

and presences form the basis for claims of independence by the Karen, Kayah, Mon, and Shan

ethnic minority groups (Bamforth & Van der Stowe, 2000; Fink, 2001).

The Shan and the Karen actively participated in negotiations with the Bama government

for independence, but the Kayah did not see negotiation as necessary, referencing the 1875

agreement between the king of Burma and the British government: “Agreement: It is hereby

agreed between the British and Burmese governments that the state of Western Kayah shall

remain separate and independent, and that no sovereignty or governing authority of any

description shall be claimed or exercised over the state” (Tuu Reh, 2012; Nisbet, 1901, p. 36;

Bamforth, 2000). In response, King Mindon refused to send a representative to the area when

British surveyors determined the border between Upper Burma and Western Kayah (currently

portions of Kayah and Shan states). This lack of action was understood as a tacit resistance to

the agreement and an indication that the king believed that Western Kayah belonged to Burma.

The British agreed to defend Western Kayah against the Burmese, but after they were driven

out of Burma, the British did not assist Western Kayah when it was annexed by Burma (Nisbet,

1901; Bamforth & Van der Stowe, 2000; Fink, 2001).

When Burma gained its independence in 1948, U Nu, the first president of Burma,

declared the Burmese language the official state language. Ethnic minority groups began to

assert that they were not part of Burma because the British-imposed state borders had lost

their meaning at the conclusion of colonization. Due in part to the abundance of natural

resources in the ethnic minority states, the Bama government was anxious to retain the

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territory claimed by the ethnic minority peoples. As a negotiating tool, the Bama government

agreed to allow several ethnic minority groups to secede in 1958 if, after 10 years as Burmese

states, they still desired to be independent. In 1958, several minority states expressed the

desire to become independent; however, the Bama government reneged on its promise and did

not allow this to happen.

President U Nu was a relatively weak leader and a devout Buddhist. Following the

historical patterns discussed earlier, his relative weakness allowed the sangha to grow in

influence. In 1961, Buddhism was declared the state religion, and the State Religion Act defined

all non-Buddhists as second-class citizens. To many of the ethnic minority people, particularly

those who identified as Christian, Burma’s independence was perceived as a shift from

domination by one colonial power to another, which served to increase the tensions between

the ethnic minorities and the Bama people. Again reflecting historical patterns, U Nu’s

government faltered in 1962, and the military, not the sangha, took control by staging a coup.

A month after assuming control of the country, Ne Win, the military commander in

charge of the coup, issued a policy statement called the “Burmese Road to Socialism”. This

document mapped out strategies for economic independence, reduced foreign influence,

enhanced military influence in civilian life, and promoted a single national culture (i.e.,

“Burmanization”) in Burma. The Road to Socialism also provided social services such as

inexpensive food, education, and health care for citizens. In 1981, western scholars noted that

while the idea of socialism was still a long way off, the number of schools, teachers, and

students in the country had steadily increased (Fenichel & Khan, 1981; Holmes, 1967).

These reports contrast sharply with the opinions of exiled Burmese scholars and may

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point to difficulty in obtaining reliable data within the government research structures. Exiled

Burmese point out that in July 1962, shortly after the coup, Gen. Ne Win ordered the

destruction of the Student Union Building at Rangoon University. “Ne Win and his Tamadaw . . .

only want uneducated people who will obey their commands,” commented Dr. Mya Maung at

Boston College. Another reason academics left Burma was due to low wages. “‘My monthly

salary at Rangoon University was 1750 kyat (about $6), while a meal in the market cost nearly

100 kyats. How could I live on just my own income? I still had to get money from my parents,’

said a lecturer [now working in Thailand, during] an interview with the Democratic Voice of

Burma” (all quotes reported in Win Htein, 1999, p. 1-5).

Western scholars did note that since the military takeover, the amount of research,

technological innovation, and productivity had stagnated. The once-promising, resource-rich

country had slipped into poverty and isolation, and in 1987, the UN designated Burma a “Least

Developed Country” (Fenichel & Khan, 1981; Fink, 2001; Holmes, 1967).

Armed conflict in Burma. Due in part to the abundance of natural resources in the

ethnic minority states, the Bama government was anxious to retain the ethnic minority states

that encircled the country (see Appendix A). These ethnic tensions became an armed conflict in

the 1970s when the tatmadaw, the Burmese military, began to confiscate land from ethnic

minority people and require them either to provide labor for infrastructure projects (e.g.,

hydroelectric dam, road construction) or pay taxes in cash. While providing labor to develop

and maintain infrastructure in the local area was an accepted practice, the tatmadaw began

requiring locals to develop and maintain infrastructure for industries from which the local

people saw little or no benefit. This resulted in one of the world’s longest, ongoing, armed

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conflicts, staged between the tatmadaw and various ethnic minority splinter groups (Bamforth

& Van der Stowe, 2000; Fink, 2001; Lintner, 1996).

In early 1988, Lt. Gen. Khin Nyunt, secretary of the National Education Committee and

chief of the Military Intelligence Service, ordered all teachers to spy and report on their

students. “They warned us that if one of our students joins a protest, we will be sent to jail for

six months,” said a lecturer who is now working in Thailand. “In the generals’ minds, the

students are their enemies” (Win Htein, 1999, p. 4). Between 1962 and1988, universities were

closed multiple times for periods of time ranging from one month to more than three years for

student “offenses” such as building a mausoleum to the UN secretary general, U Thant, upon

the return of his body to Burma; student demonstrations supporting ethnic minority causes;

and student gatherings in the student union (Lintner, 1996; Fink, 2001).

As a result, demonstrations organized by students of Rangoon University against the

regime took place throughout Burma beginning on Aug. 8, 1988. The demonstrations began

with dock workers at 8:08 a.m., followed by students taking to the streets, and monks joined

the demonstrations at 11:30 a.m.5 Public protest was permitted until late in the evening, when

the military began shooting into the crowd. The military crackdown on the demonstrations

continued until Aug. 24. More than 3,000 civilians died, and the country was torn apart. The

years 1988-2000 saw public universities closed for more time than they were open (Fink, 2001;

Lintner, 1996).

5 Many Burmese people make major life decisions based on numerology. The date of the demonstration, 08-08-88, was considered to be an auspicious date and 8:08am was considered to be an auspicious time. As monks are not allowed to eat after noon, they requested that the students wait to begin demonstrating until 11:30am so they could finish their morning meal. Some students were unable to wait until the appointed time and took to the streets earlier (Fink, 2001).

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The year 1988 also saw the initiation of separate military educational institutions, which

did not close during this time. Matriculation into these institutions often required connections

to the military or civil service and always required a background check that attempted to

determine if there was any anti-government activism in one’s family. Trusted individuals from

these institutions were sent overseas for education under the expectation that they would

return to Burma and share what they learned.

The policy of Burmanization had included a provision that all levels of education use

Burmese language as the medium of instruction. In 1979, Ne Win’s daughter was denied

admission to a medical school in England due to her limited English language proficiency. Since

that time, English language has been reinstated in Burmese schools and is considered necessary

for higher education (Fink, 2001). However, despite being a former English colony, the levels of

English language in Burma were and continue to remain quite low.

In 1988, a student uprising in the capitol of Rangoon initiated a dramatic change in the

junta’s relationship to civilians in general and specifically to students. Students demonstrated

against the repressive regime that had taken the country from prosperity to poverty by

implementing centralized planning schemes fused with Buddhist, animist, and superstitious

beliefs. The junta’s response to the protests was violent and severe. More than 3,000 students

and civilians died as a result of the junta’s violent response. Universities were closed for several

years, the number of spies planted amongst civilians increased dramatically, and freedom of

speech and assembly were reduced even further. Hunger in Burma became an issue for the first

time since the 1962 coup, as did the inability to access education and healthcare. Ne Win's

Burma became an oppressive, militarized state to its citizens and a pariah to the international

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community.

Conclusion

This chapter discusses the creation of the Burmese state and its initial recognition by the

international community as a colony. The process of creating a colony-state included the

formation of borders and the initiation of a type of governing body recognized by the

international community. To do the latter, the British instituted an education system with the

goal of creating an elite class of people who would act as administrators for the colony. The

elite class was composed of Bama people, who were the ethnic majority within the borders of

the newly-founded country. The political and economic advantages of the native elite class and

the Bama ethnic group in general led to increased tensions between the Bama and other ethnic

groups. This tension increased after Burma received its independence from Britain, and in the

1970’s armed conflict among the ethnic groups in the highlands area of eastern Burma resulted

in displacement of residents and ultimately in the formation of refugee camps along the

Thailand-Burma border, discussed in Chapter 3.

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CHAPTER 3: THE THAILAND-BURMA BORDER 1980s-2010

In 1988, the junta led by Ne Win shut itself and its people off from the global

community. For the next 15 years, 4% of the Burmese national budget was allocated to

education while the military received more than 40% (Win Htein, 1999; UNHCR, 2011; UNICEF,

2011). As Burma had no international enemies, the military budget was spent largely on

controlling the domestic ethnic majority population and oppressing the ethnic minority groups

that lived in Burma. During this time, severe repression of the ethnic majority population and

armed conflicts with ethnic minority populations raged. International sanctions in response to

human rights abuses inside Burma indicated the extent to which the junta was rendered a

pariah of the international community, isolated from economic, political, and sociocultural

interactions with virtually all other countries.6 Due to the lack of international access to Burma,

restricted press inside Burma, and a lack of infrastructure, among other things, there was very

little media coverage of the condition in which people inside Burma lived. During this time, an

increased number of people began to seek refuge from the tatmadaw in Thailand.

This chapter argues that the presence of the refugee camps along the Thailand-Burma

6 China and North Korea are two notable exceptions.

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border and the educational services they provide are understood differently by different socio-

political levels: displaced people, the RTG, and the international community. These different

understandings stem from quite different stances and lived experiences of the historical and

current relations between Bama and ethnic minority people in Burma, the purposes of formal

education systems, and the power and meaning of the modern (nation)-state. This chapter

begins by considering the worsening armed conflicts inside Burma during the 1980-2010 period

and the impact of these conflicts on border residents. It then considers the impact that hosting

displaced people has had on Thailand and draws on neo-institutional theories to examine how

the RTG addresses the refugee situation, highlighting the RTG’s statist and international goals

as potential influences on the RTG’s ultimate decision to allow refugee camps in Thailand, and

eventually, to allow schools in the camps.

Using a critical lens, this chapter also examines international policies for humanitarian

aid, development, and access to education. These policies form the foundation on which RTG

decisions were made about the establishment of refugee camps in Thailand and the services

that would be provided to refugees in the camps. They also serve as the broad framing for

Karen, international, and Burmese actors’ shifting engagement with camp-based education

systems and policies.

These policies and the ways in which they were implemented, I will argue in Chapters 4-

6, resulted in an education system that, in essence, supported Karen nationalism, a stance that

served particular political purposes for different actors along the border. During current

discussions about repatriation among the various levels of actors (discussed in Chapters 7-8),

these policies and their implementation took on a new, and potentially violent, meaning for the

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Burmese state, the Karen people, and the international community’s engagement in nation-

and state-building.

Refugee Camps on the Thailand-Burma Border (1984-1994)

Prior to the 1980s, ongoing, armed conflicts inside Burma displaced people into Thailand

annually during the hot seasons, but they returned to Burma for the rainy season when the

fighting subsided and paddy fields needed to be planted. The RTG tacitly allowed displaced

people to stay in Thailand, because often they stayed with relatives who had found themselves

in Thailand when the border between Burma and Thailand became a political and social reality.

In 1984, the fighting between the tatmadaw and the ethnic rebel groups did not subside

when the rainy season began, and people were unable to return to Burma. The number of

displaced people grew to a point where the RTG realized it needed to formally address the issue

of displaced people from Burma in Thailand. This need for formal recognition was brought

about in part by the dwindling rice stores in the host communities and the inability of the

displaced people to access land to plant their own rice. The continual arrival of people from

Burma had become a burden on the rural communities along the border in Thailand. The RTG

decided to offer humanitarian assistance to the displaced people from Burma; however, they

were committed to ensuring that the services were minimal to prevent them from being a draw

for people from Burma (Lang, 2002).

Often, a state-level decision to provide humanitarian aid is accompanied by an invitation

to the United Nations High Commission of Refugees (UNHCR) to assist with coordination and

management of the refugees. Currently, 146 of the 191 UN member countries are party to the

UN Convention of Refugees and/or its protocol. Of these countries, only two--Cambodia and

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the Philippines--of the 11 Southeast Asian countries are party to either the convention or the

protocol, and only the Philippines is a party to the 1954 Stateless Convention (UNHCR, 2015).

Another line of inquiry would highlight and analyze these geographical patterns; however, of

importance here is that neither Burma nor Thailand is a signatory to either international

agreement.

Despite not being a party to the 1951 Refugee Convention, Thailand has served as a

refuge for many people fleeing conflicts throughout Southeast Asia. Because Thailand is not a

signatory, however, UNHCR has a limited mandate in Thailand. In 1975, to assist with the

management and coordination of services for refugees, the RTG established the Committee for

Coordination of Services to Displaced Persons in Thailand (CCSDPT), a consortium of

international NGOs working together to coordinate services for displaced people in Thailand.

CCSDPT was established when Thailand was hosting people fleeing conflicts in Vietnam, Laos,

and Cambodia. CCSDPT worked exclusively along Thailand’s eastern border until 1984, when it

moved to Thailand’s western border and began working with displaced people from Burma

(CCSDPT-UNHCR, 2007; Premjai Vungsiriphisal, 2014).

CCSDPT’s mission calls for it to serve as a liaison and to encourage cooperation among

all stakeholders, including Thai governmental, nongovernmental, and community-based

organizations; and international nongovernmental organizations. Governmental representation

from the country of origin and refugee representation are notably absent from CCSDPT. In

essence, CCSDPT works with the RTG and donor organizations to serve as the gatekeeper for

aid provision to the camps. Officially, all decisions about the provision of aid to displaced

people in Thailand ultimately rest with the RTG, with the CCSDPT having an advisory role. By

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limiting UNHCR’s mandate, the role of the international community in the care and

management of displaced people also is limited, and the RTG is able to maintain complete

control over all legally recognized aspects of the lives of people displaced to Thailand from their

countries of origin.

The camps in Thailand were officially initiated at the beginning of hot season (February)

1984 in response to a sudden-onset, complex emergency (i.e., armed conflict) resulting in

approximately 9,000 people running across the Thailand-Burma border to escape shells and

gunfire, leaving virtually everything behind. Given the previous pattern of annual return, the

RTG originally anticipated hosting displaced people from Burma for several months, until the

rainy season began. This time, however, many more people fled across the border seeking

safety from armed conflict, and the population of displaced people increased substantially.

Once in Thailand, they had no access to food, shelter, or medical care. Because this was a

greater number of people from Burma seeking asylum than Thailand previously had hosted, the

RTG invited CCSDPT to coordinate humanitarian aid along Thailand’s western border. Since

then, CCSDPT has worked along Thailand’s western border to coordinate the provision of aid to

displaced people from Burma.

In 1984, no international standards for refugee care existed, and the refugee care along

the border provided by CCSDPT-member organizations was determined by the RTG’s

requirement that only humanitarian aid (i.e., food, clothing, and medical attention) be provided

on a month-by-month basis (Lang, 2002; McConnachie, 2014; Premjai Vungsiriphisal, 2014). The

RTG’s two main concerns about hosting displaced people from Burma were the economic costs

and political costs. The RTG was straddling a delicate line between daily interactions with the

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ethnic minority groups who had fled Burma and diplomatic and economic interactions with the

official Burmese government. The RTG was concerned that the armed rebel groups would

create bases in Thailand from which to attack Burma; they also were concerned that officially

recognizing refugees from Burma would harm Thailand-Burma relations. Additionally, the RTG

was aware of its political need to adhere to certain international expectations, such as the

avoidance of refoulement,7 despite not being a signatory to the 1951 convention.

In an attempt to appease the Burmese government and the international community,

the RTG combined the historic Southeast Asian concept of three-dimensional borders (see

Chapter 2) with the Western understanding of citizenship to create a space that was at once a

refuge and a no-man’s land between Thailand and Burma. In 1991, the Thai military relocated a

refugee camp to a disputed territory known as Halockhani. According to the Thais, it was “on

the border”; however, the Burmese government believed it to be inside Burma. At the time, the

land was not important to either country (see Chapter 2), and so the camp was allowed to

remain for several years on the three-dimensional border. By not being in Thailand, the RTG

could claim that it was not offering shelter to displaced people from Burma, nor could it be

accused of refoulement. Because the land was not technically in Burma, the Burmese

government allowed the CCSDPT to access the camp and provide rations (Lang, 2002).

In the early 1990s, the status of the land on which Halockhani was located changed from

neutral to contested when plans for a natural gas pipeline called for use of the land. The

7 Refoulement means the expulsion of persons who have the right to be recognized as refugees. The UN principle of non-refoulement provides that: “No Contracting State shall expel or return (‘refouler’) a refugee in any manner whatsoever to the frontiers of territories where his life or freedom would be threatened on account of his race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion” (unesco.org).

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tatmadaw had maintained a military base close to the camp, and in June 1994, they invaded the

camp in order to secure the land for the planned Yadana natural gas pipeline (Lang, 2002; Earth

Rights International, 2008). The refugees who were able fled into Thailand. While fighting took

place, the RTG allowed the refugees to remain in Thailand, using plastic tarps as protection

from the monsoon rains. When the fighting ended, the RTG insisted that the refugees return to

Halockhani, recategorizing them as illegal immigrants and telling the international press that

“There is no war in this part of Burma now” (quote from The Nation, cited in Lang, 2002). The

refugees refused to move, choosing to live under plastic tarps rather than return to what they

believed was an insecure area. After several months, the RTG changed tactics and began to

blockade the refugee rice stores. Within weeks, the refugees had moved back to Halockhani,

and the RTG released the rice for distribution. The situation, however, was unsustainable as the

pipeline project continued to move forward and the land continued to be contested.

Initiation of development services in the camps. Until this time, UNHCR had been

relatively disengaged from the refugee situation, allowing the RTG and CCSDPT to manage the

camps. However, as a result of the Halockhani incident and the use of food and hunger as tools

for refoulement and for resistance, the UNHCR began to bring international attention to the

situation. While this did not change the individual lives of Halockhani residents, it did change

the way the RTG responded to displaced people who lived with constant insecurity yet did not

face armed conflict on a daily basis. In 1994, as a response to this international embarrassment,

the RTG agreed to allow infrastructure for water and sanitation systems and planning for

educational programming in the camp (Lang, 2002; Lenton, 2004; Premjai Vungsiriphisal, 2014).

Allowing the development of education and water systems effectively acknowledged

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that armed conflict was unpredictable and that the civilians who lived in the area needed

ongoing protection. While the RTG has consistently referred to the camps as temporary

shelters, by taking measures to ensure that the short-term and medium-term needs of the

displaced people were addressed, the RTG indicated that it had a modified understanding of its

role as a host country.

Due to ongoing hostilities inside Burma, CCSDPT continued to provide services for newly

displaced people on the Thailand side of the border. Between 1998 and 2004, the RTG

permitted UNHCR to have a limited mandate in Thailand, which allowed the organization to

determine displaced people from Burma’s eligibility for refugee status. “Refugee” is a legal

status, indicating a “person who is outside their country of origin and unable or unwilling to

return there or to avail themselves of its protection, on account of a well-founded fear of

persecution for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular group, or

political opinion” (Goodwin-Gill, 2008, p. 2). Over the next decade, the official classification of

“refugee” shaped many people’s lives. Displaced people from Burma became a special

category; the only category in Thailand to be administered by the UNHCR. This category

allowed the individuals arriving to stay in the camps until their refugee status had been

determined. If this status was denied, they were asked to leave. This is different from other

immigrants (e.g., Laotians) who were required to receive asylee status from the Thai military

prior to remaining in Thailand, or the myriad of other groups who were classified as Thai

residents with limited rights.8

8 See Toyota, M. (2005). “The case of the “Hill Tribes” in Thailand”. In Multiculturalism in Asia. Oxford University Press.

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Structure of the refugee camps. The CCSDPT and the RTG policies, which are based on

a variety of interests, including national security and international best practices for refugee

care, determine to a large extent what type of aid is allowed into the camps. These policies do

not, however, determine how the aid is distributed or used once it has entered the camps. This

determination is made largely by refugee-led supra-camp and camp-level political structures.

The following section describes the geo-political structure of the refugee camps. It is based on

field notes and participatory observations made in nine camps along the border between 2007

and 2014.

There are nine camps in total along Thailand’s Western border. In the southern seven

camps, aid distribution is largely determined by the administrative wing of a well-known group

of rebel armed forces in Burma, the Karen National Union.9 The executive committee of the

Karen National Union is composed of sector leaders, including the Karen Education Department

(KED), the self-identified Ministry of Education in Karen state, and the Karen Health

Department, the self-identified Ministry of Health in Karen state.

The administrative wing located in the official refugee camps, whose members have

refugee status, is called the Karen Refugee Committee (KRC). KRC’s ideological position directly

reflects the political platform of the rebel armed forces inside Burma: self-determination of

Karen culture. The executive committee of the KRC mirrors that of the Karen National Union

and is composed of leaders from various sectors, including the Karen Refugee Committee-

Education Entity (KRC-EE). The KRC manages the seven southern camps and represents all of

9 The two northern camps were dominated by a different ethnic group, the Kayah. The Kayah had their own governance structure which included a department of education. This dissertation will focus on the southern seven camps.

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the camp residents to Thai authorities and international organizations, when they are allowed

at the table (Lang, 2002; Premjai Vungsiriphisal, 2014; Sawadee, 2007; Zeus 2009).

Spatially, each camp is divided into sections with approximately 100 families per section.

The number of sections per camp ranges from four to 24. Residents of a section are often the

same ethnicity and religion; each of the relatively homogeneous sections elects a section

leader, who represents the camp residents’ interests to the Camp Committee. The section

leaders receive no compensation for being the leader, and I was surprised at how many of them

seemed to be less financially well-off than some of the people living in their sections—yet all

were greeted warmly and with respect by virtually everyone in the section. As the leaders went

about their daily business, they often were offered small gifts of cheroot (a local cigarette),

fruit, and assistance in carrying water, rice, or other items up the mountain to the leader’s

home. It was not uncommon for a section leader to be older, male, and have adult children.

These demographics indicate respect toward elders and male domination in local politics and

reflect historical patterns inside Karen state (fieldnotes, Oct. 4-8, 2007, March 5, 2014; CCSDPT,

2012; McConnachie, 2014, p. 12).

It is not uncommon for ethnic minority governments and armed forces to splinter,

creating multiple fighting forces with multiple agendas from a single ethnic group (see Chapter

4). Because of armed conflicts taking place among multiple ethnic minority fighting forces and

between the tatmadaw and ethnic minority groups, the camps are home to multiple ethnic

groups, including Pwo-Karen, S’gaw-Karen, Pa-O, Mon, Ta’ang, Shan, and Kayah; and multiple

religions, including numerous variations of Christianity, Buddhism, Islam, and animism. The

politically and numerically dominant population in the seven southern camps is Christian (often

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Baptist) S’gaw-Karen, however they represent only part of the heterogeneous refugee

population crowded into the camps. The sheer number of the S’gaw-Karen (commonly called

“Karen” to distinguish from Pwo-Karen) compared to other ethnic groups and the tendency of

more Karen refugees to be active rebels rather than relatively passive survivors of

governmental violence has resulted in the marginalization of other cultures and peoples in the

camps (interview, Aug. 6, 2011; fieldnotes March 2-30, 2015; Burma Link, 2015; Oh, 2010; Zeus,

2009).

Protracted refugee situation

Throughout the 1990s, 2000s, and 2010s, human rights organizations such as Amnesty

International and Human Rights Watch continued to document abuses inside Burma, including

religious persecution, forced labor and relocations, torture, extra-judicial killings, arbitrary

arrests, the use of human mine sweepers, and rapes (Amnesty International, 2006, 2012;

Human Rights Watch, 2006; AltSEAN, 2007, 2014; KHRG, 2014; Burma Link, 2015).

In 2004, despite the continuing reports of abuses inside Burma, the deputy secretary

general of Thailand’s National Security Council announced that UNHCR had complied with

RTG’s request to cede the responsibility of determining refugee status to the Provincial

Administration Boards, a wing of the Ministry of Interior tasked with maintaining Thailand’s

border security. The reason the RTG would begin screening new refugees from Burma was “in

an effort to control anti-Rangoon movements” (Asia Tribune, 2004, p. 14; Naw Seng, 2004;

interview, Aug. 13, 2011; fieldnotes, Aug. 13, 2011). According to the Bangkok Post, UNHCR’s

deputy regional representative indicated that the refugee agency’s function is to ensure that

the system of determining refugee status works correctly, not to do the work of determining

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individuals’ status. UNHCR had stepped in when asked to assist the RTG and relinquished its

responsibilities when requested to do so by the RTG (Naw Seng, 2004).

The Thai refugee camps continued to accept new refugees until 2005, when the Thai

government reclassified people fleeing Burma as “economic migrants” rather than as

“refugees” and declared their presence in Thailand illegal. Despite the 2005 official moratorium

on new arrivals, people continued to arrive in the camps. Their status was often “temporary”

while awaiting recognition/rejection of their claim for refuge (WikiLeaks, 2005). Recognition of

their claim led to continued protection in the camps and access to the services in the camps.

Rejection led to repatriation. In 2007, I met many people who for years had been officially

classified as “temporary.” There also were a growing number of people living in the camp

without any official status. This was because people feared rejection of their application for

refugee status and subsequent deportation more than they feared the consequences of being

caught living in camp illegally. By 2007, an estimated 150,000 registered refugees lived in nine

camps along the Thailand-Burma border (See Appendix A), 2008; Fink, 2006; Bamforth, 2000;

McConnachi, 2014; Proctor 2007; UNHCR, 2006). The number of undocumented people from

Burma living around the camps, in Bangkok, and throughout the rest of Thailand was estimated

at over 1.5 million.

Despite being in place for more than 30 years, the RTG still conceives of the camps as

temporary spaces to be used until the residents have been either repatriated to their country of

origin or resettled to a third country; integration into the host country is not considered an

option. Consistent with the conception of the camps as being temporary, all buildings in the

camps are required to be built from bamboo and other nonpermanent material (e.g., woven

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leaf roofs). The use of cement is limited; thus, homes have dirt floors, which become muddy in

the rainy season, a condition that is not well understood by people living outside the camps, as

I learned before and during a camp visit from May 30 to June 2, 2011.

On my way to visit a camp, I stayed overnight in a Thai town with an expatriate (White, European) woman who had lived for many years in Thailand. She indicated that she was sympathetic to the cause of the refugees and often donated blankets because the high elevation of the camps makes them quite cold at night. After chatting for a bit, our conversation circled around to the camps. She wondered aloud what refugees do with the blankets. Every year she donated them, every year there was a shortage. Where did the blankets from the previous years go? Did they throw them away? They just don’t know how to take care of things that are given to them, she surmised. She indicated that she used her blankets for years—so why did the refugees need new ones every year, sometimes more often? I didn’t know and told her as much. I decided to figure out what was going on when I arrived at the camp the next day.

I arrived at the camp the next day, and since it was rainy season, I was offered

the privilege of sleeping in the health care center, because it had a cement floor and was elevated above the normal path of the rainwater through camp. After breakfast, I returned to the health center to gather my materials for the day, and I saw a pair of shoes sitting in the sun near the front door. Shoes are uncommon in camps, flip-flops being the norm, and these were spectacularly white, another uncommon site in a muddy situation. When I finished gathering my things, I stopped once more to admire the shoes. A young man was moving them so they would be completely in the sun. He indicated that they were his shoes. He had paid 300TB (~10 USD) for them. “It probably isn’t very much for you, but for me it is a lot,” he said sheepishly. I was astounded and complimented the shoes. He told me that he kept them in the house at night but cleaned them and during the day put them in the sunshine on the cement stairs leading up to the health center to help them dry.

Extrapolating from this, I figured out why blankets need to be replaced regularly: when

there is no sun for days, the blankets mold. Also, water is limited, and once the blankets

become muddy there is no clear water for cleaning them. The young man moved his shoes

multiple times per day in an attempt to prevent them from rotting in the jungle-like climate.

This process was not always possible or practical for all of the blankets in the camp. I asked a

colleague, who confirmed my suspicions: The muddy floors are a factor that prohibits proper

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maintenance of household items, and they play a role in promoting the sense of

impermanence. This complicates the RTG’s single explanation of not wanting cement pads left

after repatriation by adding a “push factor” to ensure the refugees do not feel too comfortable

(fieldnotes, June 3, 2011; WikiLeaks, 2005).

While the RTG insists that the camps are temporary, they fit the UNHCR definition of a

protracted refugee situation, which is one in which refugees have been living “five years or

more after their initial displacement, without immediate prospects for implementation of

durable solutions” (UNHCR, 2009 p. 1). Protracted refugee situations often result in scenarios

“in which refugees find themselves in a long-lasting and intractable state of limbo. Their lives

may not be at risk, but their basic rights and essential economic, social and psychological needs

remain unfulfilled after years in exile. A refugee in this situation is often unable to break free

from enforced reliance on external assistance” (UNHCR, 2006, p. 12). Protracted refugee

situations originate from ongoing social, political, and/or economic insecurity in the country of

origin, from the policy responses of the host country, and from a lack of engagement in these

situations by other actors at multiple levels.

Do protracted refugee situations and non-protracted refugee situations look different?

Do they have different consequences? Do they need different international and state-level

policies? These questions are addressed in the next section by examining international, state,

and refugee camp-level refugee care policies.

International policies for refugee situations. From an international point of view, the

provision of services to refugee camps is based on a humanitarian aid model, which recognizes

four phases of a humanitarian event: initial response, acute, chronic, and postcrisis. For

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humanitarian aid organizations, the initial response phase is the first phase of an emergency,

the time it takes to negotiate access to the displaced populations, set up operations, and begin

providing services after a sudden crisis. In the lived experience of refugees, the acute phase is

the first phase of an emergency. This phase indicates the initial outbreak of a crisis

characterized by massive population displacements and the destruction of lives and property.

The acute phase takes place before, during, and immediately after the initial response

phase. In the acute phase, the quantity of services often is prioritized over the quality of

services. For example, 7.5L of cloudy water per person per day is preferable to 5L of pristine

water per person per day, because the 7.5L can be treated to reduce the risk of water-borne

illness and a quantity of 7.5L/person/day is the industry standard for the minimum water needs

(Sphere, 2011; WHO, 2015).

The chronic phase results from a prolonged crisis and is characterized by displaced

populations settling in camps or in host communities. Organizations may continue providing

services, with the focus shifting from quantity to quality. This stage is achieved in refugee

camps when displaced people have built shelters and food ration systems have been

established.

The postcrisis phase is marked by relative peace and security. The crisis is considered to

be finished when a durable solution (resettlement, repatriation, or integration) for the

displaced people has been completed. During a natural disaster, the movement between these

phases can be relatively linear. During a complex emergency, such as an armed conflict,

however, the population is likely to experience multiple acute, chronic phases and postconflict

phases before the completion of a durable solution (WHO, 2015; UNFPA, 2010).

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In the 1990s, an increase in the number of complex emergencies led humanitarian aid

organizations to recognize the absence of universal standards for disaster response, and in

1997, the Sphere Project was initiated to alleviate suffering and to promote living with dignity

for people caught in complex emergencies. The Sphere Project resulted in the Humanitarian

Charter and Minimum Standards in Disaster Response,10 which continues to be influential in

funding and implementing humanitarian aid. The Minimum Standards in Disaster Response,

also called the Sphere handbook, was first published in 2000, with updates in 2004 and 2011.

“The Sphere handbook is designed for use in disaster response, and may also be useful in

disaster preparedness and humanitarian advocacy” (Sphere, 2011, p. 6).

Disaster response is characterized by timeliness and sense of urgency and its focus on

creating organized, if temporary, structures for the use of limited resources by many people to

increase the overall survival rate (Sphere, 2011; WHO, 2015). This handbook recognizes four

broad sectors as essential for effective humanitarian aid provision: (a) water supply, sanitation,

and hygiene; (b) food security and nutrition; (c) shelter, settlement, and nonfood items: and (d)

health action (Sphere, 2011).

Despite being created in response to an increase in complex emergencies, which are

characterized by a nonlinear progression through the four stages of an emergency, the Sphere

handbook focuses mainly on the first two phases: acute and initial response. It draws on

literature from humanitarian aid organizations such as the International Federation of Red

Cross and Red Crescent, which indicates that the goal of humanitarian aid is to “reduce the

10 The SPHERE standards can be found at

http://ocw.jhsph.edu/courses/refugeehealthcare/pdfs/sphereprojecthandbook.pdf

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number of deaths, injuries, and impact from disasters” (IFRC, 2015). Similarly, the Humanitarian

Coalition defines a humanitarian crisis as “an event or series of events that represent a critical

threat to the health, safety, security, or well-being of a community or other large group of

people, usually over a wide area… [that renders] survivors in urgent of need of life-saving

assistance such as shelter, food, water and health care” (Humanitarian Coalition, 2015). It does

not address the cycling between stages that individuals living in a complex emergency are likely

to experience.

The Sphere handbook was first published 16 years after the camps along the Thailand-

Burma border were established. As a result, and because of the UNHCR’s limited role in the

refugee camps, it has had little impact on the design of the services offered to camp residents.

The camp residents along the border have faced these situations enough times that a book of

standards was not helpful to them in learning how to address the initial and acute phases in

their context. The Sphere Project’s limited focus on the chronic and recovery phases and the

nonlinear path commonly followed by complex emergencies, phases of an emergency that are

being addressed in the camps, renders it a satisfactory reference but not terribly useful for the

camps along the Thailand-Burma border.

Between May 2000 and October 2008, discussions about the inclusion of education in

the Sphere Handbook were led by the Inter-Agency Network for Education in Emergencies

(INEE), a coalition of international experts, INGOs, governments, and UN agencies. INEE

demonstrated that education provides benefits to populations in crisis in the present as well as

in future situations. Education benefits children immediately by providing safe spaces that can

protect them from the dangers and exploitation that occur in a complex emergency.

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Additionally, learning in these spaces provides an alternative to high-risk behaviors in which

youth otherwise might be engaged. In the short term, bringing together children in a complex

emergency situation increases the likelihood of identifying those with acute needs and

providing physical, psychological, and social services as needed. Education also benefits

children and their families by teaching the students how to recognize and avoid dangers such as

land mines.

Teaching students not only practical knowledge, such as how to prevent contamination

to a water supply, but also teaching them academic knowledge, such as why and how these

practical skills prevent contamination, benefits not only the student but the family and

community. Longer term benefits of education are also frequently cited as reasons for

educating children in refugee camps: training for employment, preservation of culture, and

educating future political and social leaders are commonly-cited rationales for educational

expansion and support (INEE, 2012; Kirk, 2007; Machel, 1996; Sinclair, 2002).

INEE created the Minimum Standards in Emergency Education (MSEE)11 to guide both

educational programming and a multisectorial approach to humanitarian aid, primarily during

the acute, initial response, and chronic phases of a complex emergency of a natural or other

linearly progressing disaster (INEE, 2012, p. 4). The MSEE bridges the gaps between phases of

an emergency, including the postcrisis phase, during which one or more durable solutions are

implemented. This is particularly useful in protracted, complex emergency situations, because

the phases of an emergency seldom move exclusively in a linear fashion. In October 2008, the

Sphere-INEE Companionship Agreement was signed. The INEE MSEE is now considered a

11 http://www.unicef.org/violencestudy/pdf/min_standards_education_emergencies.pdf

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companion document to the Sphere Handbook, and the final two phases of an emergency are

increasingly recognized by humanitarian organizations. “Today, the question is no longer ‘is

education life-saving?’ but ‘how can the Sphere/INEE companionship better ensure that

humanitarian responses meet the needs and rights of populations affected by crises?’” (Sphere-

INEE, 2009, p. 1). This shift in the essential question from immediate survival to a rights-based

approach indicates a modification in the understanding of humanitarian aid from a “basic

needs”/ “survival” focus to a “rights-based”/ “lives-with-dignity” focus.

Despite INGO representation of the camps along the Thailand-Burma on the INEE

committee, the MSEE has had limited impact on education programming in the camps. Reasons

for this include the fact that the MSEE was ratified as a Sphere/INEE companion piece more

than 10 years after education programming began in the camps. The camp education projects

may have contributed to the MSEE, but it is unlikely that the MSEE contributed much to the

camp projects. Also, the individual representing the border camps in Geneva was an expert

employed by one of the NGOs working along the border. He was a member of CCSDPT,

however his influence among the other NGOs and their projects in the camps was limited, in

part because his relationship with other experts along the border was based solely on business;

there was limited socializing, which is a key factor in garnering respect and influence with

expatriates as well as with locals along the border. Had the coordinating body for the camp-

based education programs been an institution with more prestige (e.g., UNHCR rather than

CCSDPT) or an individual with a different leadership style, the MSEE may have played a more

important role in the camps.

Members of the CCSDPT education subcommittee signed an agreement to comply with

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the MSEE standards; however, I did not meet anyone who made an effort to measure them. In

my opinion, it seemed as though the expatriates working with refugees in the camps had

created their own standards and were not interested in piloting something for someone else.

This perception comes from the frustration expressed by the Geneva representative at the

ongoing lack of responses to the monitoring and evaluation surveys and to the tools he sent to

the camps. It also comes from the eye rolling and heavy sighs by expatriate NGO staff that

accompanied answers to my questions about the MSEE and about the representative’s surveys

(interview, Aug. 13, 2011; fieldnotes, May-June, 2007).

Why Focus on Education?

The education sector bridges the gap between emergency and development situations,

a gap that characterizes protracted refugee situations. Education also is inherently political, and

it is widely accepted that educating individuals in a society is critical to developing states.

However, reflecting the political nature of education, there is less agreement on what the

concepts of education and development actually mean. The following section draws on policy

documents to examine the relationship between education and nation building as understood

by the RTG and the international community. This provides insight into the context in which the

camp education system was developed.

The role of education in the development of Thailand. Thailand has historically

associated education with national security, which includes cultural self-determination, in

addition to territorial borders. Prior to 1973, the Ministry of Interior (MOI) was responsible for

all primary education outside of Bangkok, including the schools that served the Thai citizens

living along the border. For the sake of national security, these schools were required to focus

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on Thai language and culture, as the students all lived just inside the Thai border and thus were

viewed as residents of Thailand. The teachers in these schools often were soldiers volunteering

on their day off (Fry, 2002; Hyun, 2014; Loeper, 1989).

Because the RTG viewed schooling as an important tool in shaping citizens that would

support the Thai state, they viewed schooling for non-Thai refugees as a potentially dangerous

tool to encourage Thai-ness among non-Thai people. Not surprisingly, then, the MOI continues

to be in charge of approving the educational resources and procedures used at Migrant

Learning Centers, which serve undocumented individuals living along the border, to ensure that

Thailand’s national security is not compromised. Among the MOI requirements is the

prohibition of teaching Thai culture to migrant students at the Migrant Learning Centers.

Education is used to ensure that a migrant student does not identify as Thai and that a Thai

student can quickly identify a migrant student as non-Thai (interview, Aug. 5, 2011).

In the late 1990s, Thailand underwent a number of educational reforms that moved the

education system in the direction of a European-style system, even as it featured an equal

amount of concern for cultural preservation and education. The 1999 National Education Act

indicated that education would “promote pride in Thai identity [and the] ability to protect

public and national interests” (p. 3). To do so, the act highlighted the need to focus on local Thai

wisdom and decentralize the education system to create Local Education Administrations.

These are defined as both geographical areas and administrative units located throughout the

kingdom that allow for local education administration and implementation of the national

standards. Safeguarding Thailand’s sovereignty and Thai identity in the midst of the reforms

was and continues to be a social and political priority (Baron-Gutty & Supat, 2009).

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In 2005, the RTG initiated several significant education reforms with the aim of

developing Thailand into a knowledge-based society, which the government considered to be

prerequisite for becoming a knowledge-based economy (MFA, 2011). Additionally, in response

to a list of concerns raised by the UN Committee on the Rights of the Child, the Thai Cabinet

passed a resolution requiring the MOE to provide appropriate forms of education for children

from neighboring countries who have fled armed conflicts, including undocumented children

(ICRC, 2011; MFA, 2011). Finally, several bilateral funders gained permission from the RTG to

fund social service projects, including education for displaced people from Burma. It seemed as

though Thailand was making an effort to blend concerns for economic development with a

human rights approach.

In addition to education reform, Thailand also was experiencing tremendous economic

growth. In 2003, Thaksin initiated the Economic Cooperative Strategy, a strategy aimed at

increasing trade between Southeast Asian nations. In 2007, the RTG announced a Special

Economic Zone giving financial incentives to investors along the Thailand-Burma border. Thus,

two years after it was declared that Thailand’s goal was to become a knowledge economy, a

number of border towns received an influx of low-skilled, low-wage jobs requiring only a

modicum of literacy and a rudimentary vocabulary in Thai and Burmese languages (interview,

Aug. 3, 2011; Dawei, 2011; Bangkok Post, 2011; EWEC, 2012). The shift in educational policy

toward the production of a knowledge economy coupled with the influx of low-skilled jobs

contributed to speculation about the impetus for education policy shifts toward increased

access to education for displaced people from Burma.

The ID community’s perception of the role of education in development. In addition to

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the Sphere standards, which were initiated to strengthen humanitarian response efforts to an

increase in complex emergencies, there also was a global focus on poverty reduction as a

method of reducing the incidence of complex emergencies around the world. In 1996, the UN

defined poverty as a complex and multidimensional problem and cited poverty eradication as

key to peace, stability, and increased standards of leaving for all (Birdsall & Fukuyama, 2011;

Tikly, 2004; OECD-DAC, 1996; G-7, 1995, No. 28).

Education was considered a key component of poverty reduction. Multilateral

organizations strived to influence national education policies toward increased access and

quality, so as to foster a reduction in population-level poverty and to increase national abilities

to repay debts and/or initiate new loans for further development. The next section of this

chapter focuses on the World Education Forum and the Millennium Summit, two global

conferences that brought education to the fore. Agreements made at the World Education

Forum, the Millennium Summit and their subsequent conferences continue to play an

important role in defining, organizing, managing, and to some extent funding national

education policies in poor and developing countries.

Millennium Summit

In 2000, poverty eradication and education were highlighted in two global conferences.

One of them, the Millennium Summit of the United Nations, was held in New York and resulted

in the Millennium Declaration. This summit convened the largest number of international

leaders to that point in history to discuss the renewed role of the United Nations, and

subsequently the summit passed the Millennium Declaration. The overall global goal of the

Millennium Summit was poverty reduction worldwide (UN, 2000). The reasons for a focus on

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poverty reduction are diverse and as noted below, the conflation of these reasons skews

potential solutions toward what I term an ID point of view, as articulated by Sachs in 2005, “. . .

human rights, religious values, security, fiscal prudence, ideology—the solutions are the same.

All that is needed is action” (p. 1).

In 2002, Kofi Anan commissioned a “guidebook to implementation” of the MDGs for use

by low- and middle-income countries. In 2005, Jeffery Sachs and his team of experts produced

Investing in Development: A Practical Plan to Achieving the Millennium Development Goals,

which was presented to and ratified by the UN that same year. It did so by establishing eight

Millennium Development Goals (MDGs), along with recommended strategies for achieving

these goals.12 These goals, along with their accompanying targets and strategies, clearly reflect

a belief and trust in an ID13 worldview that links economic success and human rights. Investing

in Development provided governments with specific ways of understanding, organizing, and

managing the MDGs that called for sovereign states to collect specific population-based (i.e.,

universal) empirical data and to organize and report it in such a way as to allow comparisons

between states (Sachs, 2005; UN, 2000).

These comparisons then would allow experts to decipher “best practices” from those

states that met the targets, contextualize (within the given epistemological framework) these

practices, and import them to states that were less successful in reaching the MDG targets.

12 The MDGs: eradicating extreme poverty and hunger; achieving universal primary education; promoting gender equality and empowering women; reducing child mortality rates; improving maternal health; combating HIV/AIDS, malaria, and other diseases; ensuring environmental sustainability; and developing a global partnership for development (Sachs, 2005, pp. xii-xiii). 13 This dissertation uses “international development (ID)” to signify experts, professionals, ideologies, and logics that conform to a mindset and fundamental cultural structures that are dominated by principles of the European Enlightenment.

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These comparisons are based on a specific epistemic understanding that leads to the creation

of certain interventions from which certain kinds of data are collected and used to produce

knowledge about the educational interventions. This information then is used to modify the

interventions to more efficiently and effectively foster the epistemic premise on which the

original interventions were predicated.14

International influence in national education policies was greatly enhanced when the

IMF and the World Bank suggested that states with a poverty-reduction strategy paper (PRSP)

modify their PRSP to ensure alignment with the MDGs. The PRSP theoretically represents the

poverty-reduction plan for the state that was created via participation from local communities;

the MDGs reflect the priorities set by the state and supranational, non-state leaders for

reducing poverty worldwide. To assist with retrofitting the PRSPs, the Millennium Project

secretariat worked with countries that requested their assistance until the end of 2006 to

ensure proper alignment (UN Millennium Project, 2006).

Linking the MDGs to the PRSPs forges a specific definition of development based on an

assumed relationship between human rights and the economy. This relationship is based on the

belief and trust in a capitalist ideology to guide international relations and an Enlightenment

worldview15 to guide intranational relationships, indicating that the fulfillment of individual

human rights is based on, at least to some extent, the state’s ability to perform well in global

14 Emergency situations and protracted refugee situations are not explicitly included in the MDGs other than to indicate increased international cooperation to promote voluntary repatriation (UN, 2000). 15 The Enlightenment way of thinking privileges (but is not limited to) the following: the supremacy of reason and rationality, the cultural and intellectual importance of science and empiricism, universalism, a singular path toward and notion of modernity, humanist values, secularism, individualism, nationalism, rhetoric of freedom, and a belief that nature holds the answers to all questions (King, 1999, p. 13; Dressler & Mandair, 2011, p. 9).

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markets and the state’s willingness to conform to secular political values.16

The ability and extent to which a state is able to participate in the global economy is

determined by the population’s level of human capital, or the knowledge, skills, and attitudes

needed to perform labor of economic consequence. To develop the human capital of a

population and to ensure fulfillment of Article 26 of the Human Rights Declaration,17 the right

to education, the MDGs (and subsequently the PRSPs) suggest the institution of formal,

universal, and fee-free primary education for all girls and boys.

While each of the MDGs has an implied educational component, the second and third

MDGs mirror the Education for All goals of universal primary education and gender equality in

primary and secondary education. The endorsement of these two EFA goals in particular (and

by extension, the backgrounding of the remaining four EFA goals) by an additional 25 countries

and their incorporation into the MDGs led to an intensified focus on these particular goals as

they related to poverty reduction (Kendall, 2007; UNESCO, 2012b; World Bank, 2000). With an

increased focus on poverty reduction, education once again is placed in the position of being

measured by its contribution to labor and productivity, and viewed as a proxy for the fulfillment

of human rights; the nation-building and social (re)production components continue to be

16 Politics and secularism represent the opposite side of the continuum from religion. Politics are a way of combining scientific reason with an ethical understanding of how individuals and their environments should relate to each other based on tolerance, individualism, and scientific (i.e., discursive) logic as applied to social systems (Dressler & Mandair, 2011, p. 9). 17 (1) Everyone has the right to education. Education shall be free, at least in the elementary and fundamental stages. Elementary education shall be compulsory. Technical and professional education shall be made generally available, and higher education shall be equally accessible to all on the basis of merit. (2) Education shall be directed to the full development of the human personality and to the strengthening of respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms. It shall promote understanding, tolerance, and friendship among all nations, racial or religious groups, and shall further the activities of the United Nations for the maintenance of peace. (3) Parents have a prior right to choose the kind of education that shall be given to their children (UN, 1951).

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ignored (Mundy, 1999).

A second conference focusing on global education reform was held in 2000. This

conference, the World Education Forum, was held during the 10-year anniversary of the World

Conference on Education for All; its purpose was to examine the progress made toward

education reform in developing countries. It also was an opportunity to renew commitments to

these goals by developing and developed nations.

World Education Forum

The 1990s ushered in unprecedented global attention to education for all. Concerns

including population growth, the failure to achieve universal primary education, high illiteracy

rates, growing functional illiteracy among adults, and access to education that was limited by

race, gender, ethnicity, language, disability, or political beliefs were cited as evidence of the

need for a world declaration on education. The heads of the World Bank, UNICEF, and UNESCO

met to discuss the need for global education policies that would better support these goals, and

decided to move forward with a World Conference on education.

The 1990 World Conference on Education for All (WCEFA) was held in Jomtien, Thailand.

As described in Chapter 1, the aim of WCEFA was to forge an international commitment to

education (Haddad, 1990). However, while global attention was focused on education, global

resources were not; many participants were authorized by their governments to agree with the

conference outcomes, but many of these governments—particularly funding governments—

had difficulty designating national resources to the cause. Even as many developing countries

adopted policies aligned with WCEFA, the lack of resources provided by funding governments

(despite their promises to do so) played a key role in the failure of the WCEFA to achieve its

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goals.

In 2000, a second conference was held, and the Dakar Framework for Action was signed,

renewing and strengthening the international commitment of resources to education. This

framework was supported by the multilateral organizations (e.g., UNESCO, UNICEF) that had

been involved in the 1990 conference and by the World Bank, which took on the role of

organizing financial resources (i.e., loans) for countries that needed them. The World Bank

developed a program that would allow countries in need of financial assistance for education to

apply to the World Bank for a Fast-Track Initiative (FTI) certificate. “FTI endorsement is

intended to give recognition to education sector programs/plans prepared by countries and to

signal to potential investors, whether they be international or domestic, public or private, that

the program/plan is credible, sustainable and, therefore, a good investment” (EFA Secretariat,

2004, p. 17). The Dakar Framework for Action for Action is largely made up of 21 articles that

can be grouped into three categories: (a) resources and accountability, (b) international

influence, and (c) purpose of education.

Resources and accountability. The lack of financial resources was noted as a key reason

for the lackluster performance of the Education for All-1990 agreement (UNESCO, 2000;

UNCHR, 2004). In response to this, one half of the articles in the Dakar Framework for Action

address the need for both additional resources and for accountability. This reified relationship

between development and international aid (i.e., funding) reflected the belief that the process

of modernization is predetermined, unidirectional, and politically neutral (Samoff, 2006)—it

just needs appropriate funding to proceed as planned. This allows comparison of cultures based

on their location on a singular traditional-modern continuum and for the prescription of best

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practices based on where a culture currently is and where it should go.

In the mid-1990s, scholars such as Ball (1998), Brown and Lauder (1996), and Jones

(1998) questioned the efficacy and motives of diagnosing generic development problems (e.g.,

lack of resources) and “contextualizing” solutions. These scholars questioned the technocratic

approach to diagnosing problems in addition to the required political and fiscal characteristics

of recommended solutions. While no concrete recommendations for implementation were

given, the 2000 Framework did discuss the necessity of transparent financial partnerships and

cooperation among state, regional, and international agencies and institutions to ensure the

implementation of the Dakar Framework for Action for Action in all countries.

International influence on domestic education policies. Education for All (EFA) is a

global goal that must be locally accomplished. The Dakar Framework for Action calls for state-

level commitment to partnerships at the national, regional, and international levels. These

partnerships are intended to combine expert pedagogical and content knowledge with

knowledge of the national and local contexts to increase access to quality education for people

living in development settings. “We will strengthen accountable international and regional

mechanisms to give clear expression to these commitments and to ensure that the Dakar

Framework for Action for Action is on the agenda of every international and regional

organization, every national legislature and every local decision-making forum” (Article 13).

As with many international education policies, funding and implementing organizations

associated with EFA require stakeholder participation at a variety of decision-making levels. The

Dakar Framework for Action calls specifically for participatory strategies to “include, to varying

degrees, advocacy, resource mobilization, monitoring, and knowledge generation and sharing”

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(p. 21). The Dakar Framework for Action specifically avoids defining “partner” and

“participation,” allowing these concepts to become “floating signifiers” (UNESCO, 2000;

Watkins, 2000). The use of floating signifiers allows for widespread policy acceptance without

creating uncomfortable obligations for stakeholders (Anderson-Levitt, 2003). In this case, it

does so by refusing to address questions such as who may participate and to what degree their

participation is considered legitimate, valid, and useful when decisions are made.

Another key word in the Dakar Framework for Action that is conceived of differently at

various levels of governance is the word “all.” Human rights organizations such as UNICEF and

UNESCO interpret “all” to mean every human child. The World Bank and many governments

interpret “all” to mean every legal and documented individual within the geopolitical borders of

the state. The first interpretation of “all” indicates a human rights-based approach to

education; the second interpretation is based on the origins of state resources and the need to

justify their use to the polity. The second interpretation also is based on the notion that citizens

are agents of development for their own states, and thus, public investment in education is

worthwhile only if it is made in one’s own citizens. The word “all” has thus also taken on the

function of a floating signifier, allowing state representatives and representatives of

nongovernmental organizations to become signatories of the EFA and Dakar Framework for

Action agreements, even as these agreements clearly state that education is for “every citizen

in every society” (World Bank, 2009).

Educating “all” requires cooperation among governments, funding sources, and other

stakeholders, including citizens and influential nonstate actors that share an understanding of

who the targeted population is and how the target population is related to the funders. This

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may result in official as well as unofficial policies, with official and unofficial target populations.

Bilateral and multilateral policy and funding agreements focus on promoting universal primary

education for all documented children legally residing in a state. This definition of “all” ignores

a large number of children who reside in internationally recognized states and fall into

categories such as stateless and undocumented migrant.18

Multiple articles in the Dakar Framework for Action (see Nos. 1, 8, 16) reference the

political state as the primary unit of measure. The first article identifies the population for

whom the Dakar Framework for Action for Action was written. “Meeting in Dakar, Senegal . . .

the participants in the World Education Forum commit ourselves to the achievement of

education for all (EFA) goals and targets for every citizen and for every society” (Article 1). By

explicitly defining the audience as citizens, the Dakar Framework for Action implies that living in

a state of noncitizenship (e.g., stateless, undocumented migrant) is unnatural and needs

correction for these individuals to be covered under the Dakar Framework for Action.

Conclusion

The Thai government agreed to host the camps on a temporary basis. After experiencing

negative international attention for its treatment of the Halockhani residents, the Thai

government allowed the camps to provide basic social services, including education. The

permission to provide services immediately after international expressions of concern suggests

some acquiescence to international policies in pursuit of a political goal, a rationale aligned with

neo-institutional theories.

18 For more information on the education of stateless people, see Bartlett, L., & Ghaffar-Kucher, A. (2013) and Malkki, L. (1995).

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International policies (e.g., the Sphere Handbook) indicate an understanding of refugee

camps and services as stemming from a morally correct position of humanitarian aid and a

“basic needs” approach, combined with assumptions that the camps were temporary shelters.

In 1990, as the camps in Thailand were gradually shifting from temporary to protracted,

Thailand hosted WCEFA, which brought conversations surrounding education for all (implying

the inclusion of individuals in protracted situations) to prominence.

In contrast to the MDGs and Dakar framings of education as a human right and a state

economic imperative, education had a quite different, but shared, meaning to the RTG, the

GRUM, and the refugees: education is a key state/nation-building strategy. Both the Burmese

government and the RTG understand education to play an important role in state security.

These governments also see ethnic minorities such as the Karen as threats to their national

security. As a result, officially recognized education in Thailand and Burma has been largely

limited to ethnic majority people, either by policy (Thailand) or practice (Burma). Karen

refugees also viewed education as central to nation-building; they, however, were in the

process of attempting to build an education system that would support their nationalist claims

in the face of Burmese statist claims.

The international community understood education in terms of human rights and

human capital development. This conception of the purpose of education results in the

conviction that providing “all” people with access to education will increase the return on

investments at a variety of humanitarian and economic levels. These different understandings

of the purpose of education provide insight into the ways in which international policies, such

as EFA, came to be expressed in the form of a camp-based education system.

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While Chapter 3 considered the process of refugee camp establishment, and of

decisions about which services would be provided in the camps in the context of Thailand’s

political goals and policies put forth by the international community, Chapters 4, 5, and 6 build

on three purposes of education—fulfillment of a human right, human capital development, and

nation-building/national security—and examine the process of creating two camp-based

education systems (a primary-secondary system (Chapter 4) and a tertiary system (Chapters 5

and 6)) in the seven southern camps along the Thailand-Burma border. These chapters take into

account the varying purposes of education highlighted by different levels of actors, the

resources needed to develop and maintain the systems, and the international influence

attached to those resources. They also examine the geopolitical context of creating and

maintaining an education system that focuses on nation building for ethnic minority refugees

living in Thailand, providing a background for understanding the tensions experienced when

political changes make repatriation more likely, as discussed in Chapters 7 and 8.

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CHAPTER 4: ESTABLISHING K-10 EDUCATION IN CAMP

Chapter 4 begins by analyzing the role of education fostering a shift in the RTG’s

perception of the refugee camps from humanitarian aid meant to address acute emergencies to

aid that addressed a chronic situation with the potential for lasting many years. This chapter

extends the argument put forth in Chapter 3 by arguing that the educational services permitted

in the camps were understood differently by different socio-political levels. The camp-based

education system was formed by ID experts working with refugees via participatory exercises,

which were (and continue to be) recommended international practices, to design and

implement an education system that adhered to the RTG’s requirement of promoting non-Thai

identities and was, according to the ID experts, technically sound. This chapter argues that this

combination of participatory methods and system requirements created a space that fostered

the development of an education system that promoted loyalty to the Karen ethnic group and

promoted the vision of the Karen as a legitimate entity in the international community.

The camp-based system arose as it did in part because of the role of INGOs in

developing the education system. A key tenet of the NGOs working in the camps was

community ownership of the camp-based projects. Drawing on the ideas of participation and

ownership endorsed by the World Conference on Education for All, EDA, the INGO responsible

for initiating the camp-based education system design process, made a conscious effort to

increase the role for refugees (the group with the least political power) in the logistical and

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academic administration, in order to create a sustainable education system acceptable to three

main stakeholders: the RTG, the KED, and the INGOs represented by CCSDPT. Ten years later, in

2005, countries, organizations, and civil society organizations from around the world

acknowledged the importance of community ownership in development projects by signing the

Paris Declaration on Aid Effectiveness, which has “ownership” as one of its five main principles.

This chapter examines the education policies adopted and the ways in which they were

adopted. Neo-institutionalist theories are used to analyze the adoption of some of the

education policies (e.g., use of learner centered pedagogy), while political economy theories

are more useful in examining the adoption of other policies (e.g., the use of Karen language (as

opposed to any other ethnic minority language) as the medium of instruction). The three

dimensions of participation identified by Fung (2006) (who participates, intra-group dynamics,

and communicating decisions) are used as lenses to gather insight into how the policies were

adopted. Chapters 4 provides the cultural and structural basis for Chapters 5-6, which analyze

the Post-Secondary Education System (PSES). Combined with the ethnic tensions discussed in

Chapters 2-3 and the changing political situation analyzed in Chapter 7, this chapter also

provides insight into the tensions and contestations surrounding repatriation, which is

examined in Chapter 8.

Education and the Transition from Emergency to a Chronic Refugee Situation

While building a school system to support Karen nation-building united Karen actors

from very early on in their time in the camps, the full the camp-based education system began

in 1994 as an ID-supported bridge between an emergency and a development situation. It

represented the moment at which national and international bodies recognized that the camps

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would not soon disperse and the (inter)national politics in which the Burmese state was

understood as a state into which the Karen could not be (re)integrated were not going to

rapidly change.

Several events in the mid-1990s worked to shift the local, state, and international-level

actors’ perceptions of the camps from short-term emergency aid to a potentially protracted

refugee situation. The formation of the camp-based education system was both the impetus

and the result of this modified understanding. When the camp education system was initiated,

the armed conflict in Burma had begun to intensify, and the Karen rebel group split into two:

the KNU and the Democratic Karen Buddhist Army (DKBA).19 The DKBA had signed a cease-fire

with the tatmadaw, which meant that the DKBA was fighting as a proxy for the tatmadaw, with

DKBA soldiers and KNU soldiers attacking each other. This led many to believe that, after over

ten years in camp, refugee repatriation would never be a viable solution. Integration into

Thailand had never been an option, from either the Karen or the Thai standpoint, and this was

reaffirmed during the 1991 military coup in Thailand. Additionally, education in emergency

settings as a field was not yet established; thus, only anecdotal data about how emergency

education worked in other places were brought to the border by expatriates who had worked

in other camps. No research data were available, and there were no recommended best

practices to draw upon.

Camp-based education. In 1994, part of the argument made by CCSDPT member

organizations for establishing education in the camps was that all children, regardless of

circumstances, have the right to an education. The RTG realized that the temporary shelters

19 The DKBA changed its name to the Democratic Karen Benevolent Army in the late 2000s.

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had been and would continue to be in place long enough that by refusing access to education

to the children living in them, the RTG was denying them a fundamental right. In the 1990s,

following the World Conference on Education for All in Jomtien, denying children a

fundamental right, particularly to education, was a politically untenable position for the RTG.

Shortly after the RTG allowed planning for a camp-based education system to begin,

CCSDPT carried out a needs analysis of the education situation in the camps along the Thailand-

Burma border. Based on the results of the assessment, which indicated significant unmet need,

and with the support of INGOs, the RTG then agreed to permit formal, non-accredited

educational programs in the camps. Since 1984, EDA, a European aid organization and a

CCSDPT member organization, had been working in multiple sectors with displaced people from

Burma living outside of the camps. In cooperation with the RTG and CCSDPT, EDA initiated the

first camp-based education project, the Karen Education Project in Myo, a large camp located

along the border, three years prior to the publication of the Minimum Standards in Education in

Emergencies (EDA, 2005; TBBC, 2009; Oh, 2010).

This chapter examines the process used to develop a camp-based education system

along the Thailand-Burma border prior to the construction of international development

guidelines and practices related to emergency education: prior, that is, to the Sphere project,

INEE, the Dakar Framework, and the MDGs. Using a variety of participatory methods, INGO

workers in the camps worked with refugees to develop an education system that met the

criteria of the RTG, the KED, and the international community. The absence of international

criteria that address the nation-building aspect of education in refugee camps, and the RTG’s

refusal to sign the UNHCR agreement meant that the RTG was able to de facto set its own

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restrictions on various aspects of the camp education system. Because the RTG’s primary

concern was to assure that the refugee camp education system actively dissuaded refugees

from thinking of themselves as Thai, the RTG constrained the shape and scope of language of

instruction (no Thai allowed), curricular materials (no Thai history), and student assessment (no

certification that could lead to a recognized degree in Thailand). These restrictions are

fundamentally related to the nation-building aspects of education—but they are about

protecting Thailand’s nation-building efforts. The refugees were otherwise free to develop their

own educational programming, and to infuse it with various Karen nation-building aspects, as

long as these were not in conflict with the rules made by the RTG. For the international

development and emergency communities, at the time the only relevant concerns were the

RTG regulations and ensuring that the refugee community felt a sense of ownership and buy-in

to the education system.

Creating agreement and action among stakeholders. It is clear that the camp-based

education system reflected the particularities of the coalition formed by the RTG, the CCSDPT,

and the refugees at a particular point in the history of emergency education, state-building, and

international relations. The key aspects of the education policies adopted for the camp-based

system met the needs of all three actors. The RTG likely saw the refugee policy of using Karen

language as practical, given that it was the ethnic majority language inside the camps. Karen

language in the schools also met the requirements of the RTG’s Thai language restriction and

thus addressed the problem of unwanted individuals claiming citizenship. The refugees also

understood the Karen language policy as both practical, because Karen speakers made up the

majority of camp residents, and as a nation-building strategy. INGOs were likely supportive of

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this language policy because it met the RTG’s criteria, addressed the issue of Burmese as a

colonial language, and would lead (apparently with few concerns on the part of refugees) to the

creation of only one set of curricular and training materials—an issue of consistent importance

to funders working in multilingual settings with limited resources.

As Mosse (2004) notes, “common narratives or commanding interpretations are

supported for different reasons and serve a diversity of perhaps contradictory interests” (p. 9).

In the education system along the border, this was certainly true as the stakeholders had

different reasons for fostering the education system. The system they designed quite neatly

could be conceived as an effective mechanism for addressing each of these reasons. The

primary reasons that each group had to support or undermine the camp-based education

system thus played central roles in determining the shape and scope of the system.

In 1971, Alinsky wrote Rules for Radicals, the purpose of which was to mobilize

community action. He discusses the necessity of building coalitions and consensus among

actors who have different goals but for whom the means toward meeting these goals are

similar. In Dry Bones Rattling, Warren drew on Alinsky’s work to note that “community

organizations must base themselves on the self-interest of individuals and communities in a

pragmatic and non-ideological manner” (Warren, 2001, p. 44).

While the three main stakeholders, the RTG, the CCSDPST, and the Karen, had different

goals and motivations,20 each saw building a camp-based education system as one way to reach

20 As with any stakeholder group, neither the RTG, the CCSDPT, nor the Karen were monolithic in their understanding of the purposes or benefits of education in the camps. I met many members of the RTG who genuinely felt that refugee children should have access to education, Karen people who were focused on the technical quality of education, and CCSDPT members who acknowledged the conundrum of high quality education without the possibility of employment or an independent state. There were also other goals for education held by various members of these groups, such as literacy as a means toward reading the Christian bible, and basic English

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their goals. These self-interests ranged from the immediate need for cultural survival, to a

temporary reprieve from violence, to ongoing political stability, to professional claims to

expertise. While education policies for the camps were understood differently by different

stakeholder groups, the extent to which all groups felt the education system could serve as a

vehicle for reaching other goals allowed for the formation of a coalition between disparate

partners.

Below, I analyze the foundation and rationale for each group’s involvement in the

education system, and the primary rationales that drove their education policy concerns and

demands. I examine how these fit together to allow for the successful foundation of an

education system that has functioned to educate children in the camp for over 20 years. This

account provides the reader with insights into the state of camp-based education prior to

potential durable solutions discussed in Chapter 7 and the tensions that arise as the conflict

inside Burma diminishes and the refugees are faced with the prospect of returning to Burma,

with or without their education system.

RTG rationale for addressing refugee education in the 1990s-2000s. The RTG

understood education to be an integral part of both nation-building and national security. In

the mid-1950s, the Thai Border Patrol Police began constructing and staffing schools in ethnic

minority areas along Thailand’s borders. These schools were and continue to be supported by

the royal family and by the U.S. government. The purpose of these schools was to foster and

promote loyalty to Thailand from Thailand’s ethnic minority groups. Students in these schools

skills to ensure a supply of translators for development workers. The official policies put forth by each group, however, aligned with their stated, official line of reasoning—and the most common lines of reasoning provided by members of the groups in interviews—regarding the provision of education for refugees in the camp.

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are taught in Thai language, which is a second language for many of the students. The

motivation for initiating and maintaining these schools was to create a “human border”

between Burma and Thailand, wherein the ethnic minority Thai would be willing and able to

secure Thailand’s borders against Burmese invasion, should it become necessary (Hyun, 2014).

These schools deliberately seek to infuse a sense of “Thai-ness” into students, by teaching in

the Thai language, teaching Thai-centered history, and providing students with educational

certification that provides them access to state-recognized certification (Jungck, 2003). In other

words, this education system in many ways parallels the Burmese state system and its focus on

infusing a sense of being Burmese into students. The key difference here is that the Thai

government has not been involved in violently responding to ethnic minority insurrections for

the last 60 years.

In 1990, Thailand hosted the World Conference on Education for All. In the early 1990s,

Thailand experienced domestic turmoil that led to the liberalization of Thai education policies.

In 1991, a coup in Thailand led to a new constitution, which expanded eligibility for Thai

citizenship and therefore increased eligibility for access to education. In 1992, Chuan Leekpai,

an educational reformer and social progressive, was elected prime minister, and Thailand

became a signatory of the Convention on the Rights of the Child, with reservations regarding

Article 7 (the right of the child to be registered at birth), Article 22 (the right of a child who is a

refugee to receive appropriate protection and humanitarian assistance, including family

reunification), and Article 29c (the right of the child to access education that develops respect

for the child’s parents and her language, identity, and culture of origin). The right to access

education was expanded, but the reservations ensured that the nation-building facets of

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education were limited to fostering loyalty to Thailand (Leekpai, 2000).

In 1996, Thailand’s first report to the Committee on the Rights of the Child was

published, and in 1999, representatives of the RTG were invited to Geneva to discuss progress

made on the deficits noted by the report, particularly those related to Articles 7, 22, and 29c.

Part of the progress made to address the deficits noted in the report was related to allowing

educational programming to begin in the refugee camps. “. . . under [Thai] law, children

without birth certificates (nomads, displaced persons, etc.) were granted access to basic

services (education, health, etc.) largely through the involvement of NGOs. . .” (CRC, 1999 p. 5).

Indeed, in the early 1990s, in response to international pressure to transform national

education policy, the Thai National Security Council, the Ministry of Interior, and the Ministry of

Education drew up policies for the provision of education in the camps. With regards to nation-

building and camp-based education, the RTG insisted that the content invoke a feeling of

foreignness (i.e., not Thai) in the students and assurances that no armed, nonstate actor would

use the education system to recruit students to its armed forces (interview, Aug. 5, 2011;

interview, Aug. 6, 2011). These official decrees initiated and shaped the development and

implementation of the education system inside the camps.

Allowing refugee children to access education can be understood as reflective of

international pressures and the RTG’s desire to curry favor with the CRC. The agreement to

allow education in the refugee camps so soon after hosting the World Conference on Education

for All can be understood, through a neo-institutionalist lens, as a move by the Thai

government to gain increased international (or world social) legitimacy as the “right” kind of

“modern” state. The RTG’s intense concerns about maintaining clear delineations between Thai

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and non-Thai people were recognizable by the international community, as human rights

frameworks are state-based and do not clearly delineate the roles that states must or should

play in providing the same rights to state resources (contrasted here with inalienable rights

such as the right to life) as non-citizens.

International development discourse and actors at the time were almost entirely

focused on access as the primary component of the right to an education. Thus, the RTG’s

approach to developing education in the camps could potentially facilitate relationships

between the RTG and the international community, and within the RTG among members with

diverse interests associated with Thai border-creation and -preservation. These relationships

would be built around defining the success of the project only in relation to the provision of

education (access) that did NOT include certain components. As long as international actors and

the Karen could work around these components, the RTG (and, at the time, the bulk of

international actors) was not concerned with the experience or outcomes that refugee students

experienced in the school system.

Furthermore, the RTG and most international actors were not at all concerned with the

nation-building component of the education experience or outcomes—again, access was the

key measure of success, and the Karen never indicated any interest in stepping on the toes of

Thai nationalism. Here, however, lay the central concerns of the Karen actors. By consortium

agreement, officially defining project success as the prohibition of student identification with

Thai culture without any requirements to identify with an internationally-recognized state

created a space for the development of an education system that could comfortably foster

student identification with Karen or “rebel” culture. This arrangement would hold, with minor

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shifts that were comfortable for all major groups, until 2010, when the Burmese state

renegotiated its relationship with the rest of the world.

CCSDPT rationale for addressing refugee education in the 1990s-2000s. CCSDPT

advocated for the provision of education in the camps based on its previous experiences with

refugee camps in Thailand. While working in eastern Thailand, CCSDPT members had provided

primary, secondary, and vocational technology education for Cambodian and Laotian refugees.

CCSDPT members involved in the education sector believed that taking the present and future

experiences of refugees living in a protracted refugee situation and looking forward to a

durable solution would allow the refugees to determine the course of their lives (ccsdpt.org).

From previous humanitarian aid experiences, CCSDPT members understood that educational

programming in the camps has immediate benefits for the community. It helped to create and

highlight a daily routine for the camps as a whole and for the individual residents. In addition to

providing a rhythm for camp life, camp-based education was also viewed as an efficient way to

disseminate information to camp households (Border Camps, 2014). It also fulfilled the right of

children to access education, something that Thailand was obligated to address once it signed

the Convention on the Rights of the Child and the Human Rights Declaration.

CCSPDT believed that the future benefits of education in the Thailand camps would

include the ability of students to engage in economically productive work after a durable

solution was implemented. Ideally, education also promoted critical thinking and questioning

skills that would empower the students and graduates to have voices and make them heard

when such durable solutions or options were discussed. Given Burma’s international status as a

pariah state, this purpose for schooling was particularly important to CCSPDT. Skills associated

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with voice, empowerment, and ability to be heard would enable graduates to interact with

other governmental authorities (e.g., Karen National Union (KNU)) to consider and articulate

how the Karen fit into international economic, political, and social structures.

Both the present and the future benefits of education are, from the perspectives of

emergency and development organizations, enhanced by ensuring that education is high

quality. Literature on international comparative education suggested there was an unmet need

for teacher training and for learning materials (EFA Forum Secretariat, 1996). INGOs, including

CCSDPT members, looked to funder countries for curricula and best practices. The language of

instruction could vary (indeed, over time the ID community would come to argue, should vary),

but globalized literacy and numeracy content and child-centered pedagogy were viewed as

essential for promoting the knowledge, skills, and attitudes needed by global citizens. As the

field of emergency and refugee education developed and was professionalized by groups such

as INEE, these best practices became increasingly prominent in the technical assistance

provided during the creation of camp-based education systems.

The CCSDPT policy recommendations also focused on the provision of access to

education for all children in the camps, including those with special needs, and on ensuring

community ownership of the curricula. One CCSDPT member organization listed its goal as “To

ensure the delivery of quality inclusive education and training for refugees in [the Burmese

refugee camps] and to enhance skills and livelihood opportunities for refugees” (ccsdpt.org).

Another organization described the content of its primary, middle and secondary schooling as:

“General education using KED-approved ‘curriculum’, Arts programmes and some vocational

programmes” (Oh, 2005, p. 66).

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As a result of defining program success by measuring access to education and ensuring

community ownership of the education system, the CCSDPT, too, allowed a space to open for

the creation of an education system that fostered identity with and loyalty to the Karen “rebel”

group. This was especially true in the mid-1990s, as the armed conflict between the groups had

begun to worsen. Neither repatriation, integration, nor resettlement were options at this time,

which meant that, for CCSDPT, using the Karen language as the medium of instruction had

moral as well as logical qualities to it.

Karen rationale for addressing refugee education in the 1990s-2000s. As discussed in

Chapter 2, education has historically been important to the Karen. In addition to academic

subjects and practical skills, the Karen, like the Thai (e.g., specific prohibitions against using Thai

language in the camp schools) and the Burmese (e.g., Burmanization policies in education),

understood education as a key strategy for cultural transmission and subsequently nation

building. Indeed, the Christian missionaries were successful amongst the Karen due in large part

to the missionaries’ willingness to learn Karen language themselves and use it as the medium of

instruction in schools.

When the Burmese junta controlled the government, they instituted a policy of

Burmanization, which made using ethnic languages in government schools a punishable

offense. The idea behind Burmanization was to build a nation unified around the Bama culture,

which is dominated by religion (Buddhism) (Jolliffe, 2014; Holmes, 1967). In response to these

policies, the KNU formed their own education system, the KED (Karen Education Department),

which used Karen language. This system was a parallel system to the official Burmese

government schools and the monastic schools, which resulted in different schooling options for

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Karen people. Karen families who have lived inside Burma’s borders in the government-

controlled areas21 attended government schools were taught in Burmese and were given the

opportunity to sit for exams that, if passed, would allow the students to move to the next level

of education (e.g., primary to secondary). Other Karen people who attended monastery schools

were taught in Burmese and allowed to sit for the exams after waiting one year.22 Karen

students who lived in the Black areas23 were taught in Karen language, were not allowed to sit

for the exams, and their education was not recognized outside of their community. These

differences, which began prior to the establishment of the camps, have created a rift between

the Karen who stayed and learned Burmese and those who stayed and attended Karen school

or (after 1994) went to the refugee camps and studied in Karen (fieldnotes, Nov. 3, 2007). As

demonstrated below, schooling in the camps has exacerbated this rift.

Creating compromises. The RTG, the CCSDPT, and the camp-based Karen all had

different rationales for addressing education in the camps, but each group of actors believed

that education was a strategy that would facilitate reaching their ultimate goals. As a result, the

education system developed and implemented in the camps was formed by combining and

aligning different groups’ motivations and goals. Both the RTG and the Karen understood

21 Government-controlled areas include the territory inside Burma controlled by the tatmadaw and governed by the GRUM. 22 A friend with whom I’ve worked for many years told me the unofficial reason for this. The two types of schools dislike each other: the pakas [monastic schools] dislike the government schools as they think they do not use ‘modern teaching methods’ and the government schools dislike the pakas as they only go to standard 6—thus they must not be very bright. Interesting how the pakas have chosen to adopt the ‘modern methods’ and the government schools have not (fieldnotes, July 8, 2012). 23 Black areas are noncontiguous territories under KNU control. The GRUM and tatmadaw consider these areas havens for armed rebels and the tatmadaw, or its proxy ceasefire groups continue to attack these areas sporadically.

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education as an important part of nation-building. Because the “nation” that each group was

building theoretically did not demographically overlap, and because neither group was

interested in joining or fighting the other, they took a tolerant, if somewhat oblivious, attitude

toward each other. The international community, represented by the CCSDPT, was focused on

access to education as a human right and on refugee ownership of the education system. With

this focus on ownership, they could advocate participatory practices and acceptance of

suggested content and pedagogy that either were not viewed as problematic by the other key

actors (e.g., learner-centered pedagogy), or that actively supported the goals of the groups

(e.g., mother tongue language policy).

Because any durable solutions seemed far off, there was virtually no analysis of how this

educational approach would fit into long-term durable solutions, and, because of politics

surrounding international perspectives on participation and democracy (discussed further in

chapters 6 and 8), the consequences for other ethnic minority groups of most camp schools

reflecting a Karen nation-building focus was seldom acknowledged, particularly in the early

planning years.

The previous section examined how a coalition was formed between the RTG, the

Karen, and the CCSDPT that resulted in gaining permission to provide access to education to

students in the camps. The following section draws on Fung’s (2006) dimensions of

participation (who participates, intra-group dynamics, and the ways in which the results of

participatory exercises are linked to public policy and practice) to analyze the participatory

methods used during the creation of the camp-based education system and how these

exercises shaped interactions among the main stakeholders to produce the resulting education

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system.

Forms of Participation and How They Shape Interactions

Starting in 1995, EDA staff members encouraged camp residents who were interested in

planning and implementing the camp-based education system to attend NGO-facilitated

planning meetings. Drawing on best practices recognized by the ID community (UNESCO, 1990),

EDA used a participatory model that highlighted the importance of representation by allowing

one vote per person, with all votes weighted equally, to design an education system for the

camps. EDA held meetings in central locations in seven southern camps to allow as many

people from the community as possible to attend, with local information flowing from the

camp residents to the experts.

Despite this effort to democratize policymaking, EDA’s approach to participatory

development had some unintended consequences due in part to traditional community-level

power structures. According to preservice and in-service teachers from Burma with whom I

talked in 2012, the majority-rule decision-making process yielded results that were similar to

those arising from decision-making procedures used by villages inside Karen state. These

teachers indicated that decisions regarding education often were made at village-level

meetings with certain individuals, usually those who had attended a formal education program,

having more social capital/power than individuals who had not attended a formal education

program. One interviewee described the outcome of “participatory” processes embedded in

these power dynamics as “In the village, some have education some are not. At that time,

educated person are willing to organize the people. . . In my village, they [educated people]

make the meeting-plans or they agree more. They are talking. The other people are just

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silent . . . they cannot give suggestion. They are worried and the people they are very timid,

something like this” (interview, July 20, 2012).

The ability of some voices to be heard and the silencing of others is an example of the

intragroup power dynamics identified by Chambers and Richards (see Chapter 1). The power

dynamics within the group resulted in decision making that reflected only part of the group and

in decisions that homogenized different opinions into one actionable plan. In the camps, this

form of participatory development resulted in a focus on the Karen people and culture, and on

one particular view of what it means to be “Karen.”

Given that the Karen people are as heterogeneous as any other ethnic group, it is likely

that the distillation of Karen interests into a single opinion came about as a result of a variety of

what James Scott (1990) called “hidden transcripts,” which were taken to the KED leaders who

considered and consolidated them to create a “public transcript” that was performed for the

EDA staff. Scott used the term public transcript “as a shorthand way of describing the open

interaction between subordinates [the Karen in this case] and those who dominate [EDA]” (p.

2). Hidden transcripts are, by contrast, discussions that occur in private, out of sight of the

socially dominant individuals. The public transcript is unlikely to tell the entire story about the

power relationships within the subordinate group that led to the decision. Indeed, the public

transcript reinterprets the variety of allegiances held by the Karen into a single point of view

that is understood by EDA and publicly accepted by the heterogeneous Karen community

because it is itself reflective of the intra-group power dynamics (Mosse, 2004).

Who participates: democracy and dominance. EDA made a conscious effort to

promote camp community ownership of the education program. They held multiple meetings,

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collected data and shared best practices, and worked diligently to ensure that the education

system reflected community notions of quality (one vote per person with all people having

equal access). EDA understood participatory methods to involve as many people as possible, to

have a high degree of participation using a participatory (as opposed to a consultative or

communicative) nature of communications. However, the consequences of the EDA approach,

coupled with existing practices of educational power and authority in camp communities, led to

the formation of an education system that was dominated by a single ethnic group and focused

on the nation-building goals of one particularly powerful group within that single ethnic group.

The S’gaw-Karen people made up the majority of the camps’ populations and therefore

had the most sections in many of the camps, which meant that the meeting location often was

located in a Karen section. As sections often were relatively ethnically homogenous, members

of other ethnic groups needed to leave their section and thus were physically and socially out of

their comfort zone while attending meetings. Both because of meeting locations and because

they were numerically in the majority, the majoritarian democratic process adopted by EDA

often yielded decisions favorable to Karen interests (interview, Aug. 3, 2011).

Karen dominance can be seen in policies such as language of instruction and Karen

history curriculum requirements reflect state- and nation-building strategies of the Karen. As

they are nation-building strategies for the dominant ethnicity in the camps, they also, in reality,

constituted policies that fostered Karen domination over other ethnic groups (e.g., the Pwo-

Karen and Muslim) who lived in the camps in Thailand and in the area inside Burma in which

the KNU’s policies are enforced (Holmes, 1967). A blog post provides examples of

discrimination against groups that use Burmese language as a lingua franca inside the camps.

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Many Burman refugees in the camps talk about problems of discrimination, exclusion, and suspicions of being government spies, often leading them to depart the camps in the end. Other camp residents, who speak Burmese, have also faced similar problems as they have been mistaken for being Burman. Refugees belonging to minority groups, however, say that the situation has improved in recent years and refugees are mostly not afraid to speak Burmese anymore (Burma Link, 2015).

This blog post demonstrates the ongoing lack of trust between the ethnic majority

groups and the Bama people. It also highlights a nation-building strategy of the Karen, namely

the explicit refusal to speak Burmese language.

As a result of the participatory methods used by the NGOs, the Karen refugee

community has a strong sense of ownership over the education system. Not surprisingly, then,

to make the curricula culturally relevant, EDA worked with the KED, which was headquartered

in Burma and had representatives in the camps, to ensure that the local language and

culturally-appropriate content were incorporated into the curricula. By the late 1990s, the

Karen education project, led by EDA, became the camp-based wing of the KED, with (unofficial)

allegiances to the KNU (officially recognized by the Burmese junta and the RTG as a “rebel

armed force”), without significant notice or discussion. It is likely that some of the ID

professionals knew that the Karen were dominating other groups, however it was cleaner (i.e.,

there would be less contention) to follow the letter of the law (one vote, one person) and not

acknowledge the dominant population than to explain a population’s dominance and try to

adjust the participatory method. While this was not the intention, participatory methods used

by EDA led to the dominance of Karen people and culture in the camp-based education system.

Eighteen years later, the Karen people continue to dominate the development sectors,

including education, in the camps, and tyranny of the majority continues to be an absent, or at

least undiscussed, concept.

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Education System Governance by the Ethnic Majority in Camp

KED had been administering the camp-based education system for 15 years when

rumors of change in international politics and donor fatigue resulted in a shift in the major

actors involved in the camp-based schools. In particular, these changes required that the

refugees change the administrating body for the camp-based schools. The GRUM considered

the KNU and by extension the KED to be “rebel non-state actors.” As there began to be a

thawing of relationships between the GRUM and the rest of the world, some international

donors refused to work with the KNU and the KED (Zeus, 2009). In 2009, the need for

continuing funding for camp-based education and the increase in the number of international

organizations that refused to fund the current administrative structures resulted in KED dividing

its operations into two, with KED working exclusively inside Burma and the Karen Refugee

Education Group (KREG), an “apolitical” education entity, working exclusively inside the refugee

camps in Thailand. The division was initiated by KED administrators, who had been working

closely with donors and implementing NGOs. Many of the implementing NGO staff understood

the split to be in name only, but from the donors’ perspectives, it was necessary to make a clear

demarcation between the camp-based education system and the Karen-state based education.

The KREG was therefore created in 2009 to work with and eventually take over EDA’s

responsibilities of managing the camp-based primary and secondary educational programming

(KREG, 2012). Multiple KREG and KED staff members indicated that KED and KREG are “exactly

the same, except for the donors” (interviews Feb. 12, March 8, 10, and July 24, 2014;

fieldnotes, February-June, 2014). Indeed, later political changes (e.g., ceasefires negotiated

between the KNU and the GRUM) removed the necessity of dividing KREG and KED (from the

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perspective of ID organizations), and so the two organizations are scheduled to merge again

“soon” (fieldnotes, Feb. 15, June 1, and July 24, 2014; cf. Chapter 8).

The Parliament for Karen Refugees (PKR) is the governing body of the camps and is

analogous to the KNU inside Burma. Just as the PKR reflects the ideology of the KNU, the KREG

works closely with the KED. The KREG represents the educational and social goals of Karen

nationalists-separatists and thus operates under the assumption that a purpose of education is

to highlight Karen culture and national claims in the international context and to ensure that

Burmese culture is explicitly absent from the curricula.

Karen Refugee Education Group rationale. The KREG work with the EDA to run the

camp-based education system, which is, theoretically, open to all camp residents regardless of

ethnicity. KREG’s vision statement is, “To build up a true lasting peace and justice by producing

graduates who are critical and creative thinkers, competent leaders, good citizens and proud of

their identity.” I asked multiple people if it would be correct to insert the word “Karen” before

the word identity, however everyone, including KREG administrators, indicated they were not

qualified to answer that question. My educated guess is that there is a strong sense of Karen

nationalism woven throughout the education system; however, this does not meet with INGO

approval when it is stated as such—exactly because the camp-based education system is

viewed by INGOs as appropriately and equally serving all refugee children. Therefore, the

rationale for the education system is thinly veiled as education for peace and this is very rarely

questioned by any group, or countermanded through discourse or action in public settings.

While I heard a few side comments in town about the dominance of the Karen, I never heard or

saw anyone (expatriate or Thai) publicly express this opinion.

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To achieve their vision, KREG’s mission statement says that it is, “To serve and represent

the Karen refugees, temporarily sheltering along the Thai-Burma border, through education

services in areas of providing basic education and tertiary education to refugee students and

children.” The mission, unlike the vision statement, is clearly specific to the Karen, but with the

multiethnic camp composition, serving only one ethnic group is antithetical to the vision of

building a true and lasting peace in the context of ethnic conflicts (KREG, 2012).

The paradoxical vision and mission statements are expressed by teachers when talking

about the purpose of education, student motivation, and its relationship to building a Karen

nation. One teacher indicated her belief that education fosters skills that are needed to interact

peacefully with different ethnic groups, and therefore, “We need to recognize the qualifications

across the border. We need to have the (standards 11-12) curriculum in Burmese” (interview,

March 2, 2014). In contrast, here is another teacher’s reflection on the students’ feelings

toward Burma and toward considering themselves Burmese: “The students know only that they

were raised in the camps and they hate Burma, so they do not want to learn about it. I tell them

they must study because we are Burma citizens and we will go back one day so we must know

the history . . . they refuse” (interview, April 2, 2014).

When asked about language, repatriation, and peace building, a KREG administrator

indicated that if/when repatriation to Karen state occurs, groups living in the territory to which

the Karen are repatriated would need to get translators or learn Karen language if they did not

speak the language already (fieldnotes, May 22, 2014). Similarly, a new mother brought her

baby girl to the KREG office and was greeted with smiles, congratulations, and exclamations of

“A new Karen warrior!” (fieldnotes, July 16, 2014). While there was a diversity of opinions, the

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majority of the people with whom I spoke indicated their primary concern was for self-

determination of the Karen culture and nation, which is fully reflected the mission statement of

the KREG.

Structure of KREG. In 2014, KREG was composed of three departments and

approximately 20 employees. Virtually all employees were Karen and were graduates of a

tertiary/post-10 program either along the border or internationally. It was difficult to know who

worked with KREG at any given time because there were always guests, former employees, and

people who worked for KREG, with or without pay, around the large, two-story house that

served as an office.

KREG has three departments. The Basic Education Department has approximately 10

employees, who address primary- and secondary-education programming needs in the several

hundred schools in the Karen camps. The Department of Higher Education employs

approximately six people and administers 12 of the post-10 schools located in the camps. The

third department is the Unit of Operation and Administration; its approximately eight

employees function as a data collection and resource management unit and provide overall

organizational management. Theoretically, these departments operate separately, yet most of

the staff live together in a single house (separate from the office) and therefore interact daily;

in reality, ideas are exchanged continuously (fieldnotes, Feb. 8 and July 20-22, 2014).

KREG is the education department for the PKR. In addition to working with schools and

teachers on programmatic issues such as curricula and teacher training, KREG is charged with

balancing the education system’s budget. This entails working with foreign donors and INGOs,

as well as with local principals and teachers. Most KREG staff speak English and are relatively

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comfortable among foreigners, which often is not true for local teachers. Additionally, KREG

staff had all completed at secondary education through standard 10 and most had completed

some form of post-secondary education, whereas it was not uncommon for local teachers to

have less education. Economically speaking, KREG staff members were better off than local

teachers, but more important than economic advantages, they held a prestige that local

teachers did not have. This prestige can be likened to the prestige of a university professor

whose salary is lower than a veteran elementary teacher in the U.S. Much of the reason for the

increased prestige was due to KREG staffs’ general comfort with foreigners and relatively high

levels of English. These were the people who were on the front lines of determining how Karen

culture interfaced with the outside world; they were doing what many teachers were trying to

teach their students to do (fieldnotes, June 2007 and March 2014).

Camp-Based Education System

Because the KREG staff are located outside the camps, they can travel more freely than

can camp residents. As a result, KREG became the primary contact between EDA and the camp

residents, and together, EDA and KREG developed a K-10 curriculum grounded in ID ideology

and the maintenance of Karen culture (McConnachie, 2014; Metro, 2012; Zeus, 2011;

fieldnotes, June-July, 2014). Part of the EDA K-10 curricula, including Karen, social science,24 and

sports, is taught entirely in Karen language. The curricula for these subjects were developed

24 For an excellent discussion on the social science curriculum, particularly the history curriculum, see Metro, R. (2011), History curricula and the reconciliation of ethnic conflict: A collaborative project with Burmese migrants and refugees in Thailand. Unpublished dissertation. Cornell University. This and related published documents are available from https://sites.google.com/site/rosaliemetro/home/publications. See also Metro, R. (2012), History of Burma from a multiethnic perspective. Chiang Mai, Thailand: Curriculum Project. Available from http://curriculumproject.org/wp-content/uploads/History%20of%20Burma%20Student%20-%2021%20Aug%2008.pdf

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inside the camps by Karen speakers.

Subjects such as math, science, and English, are taught in a mixture of Karen and English

languages, with Karen language used to explain the concepts represented by a largely English-

language vocabulary (e.g., “phase change” and “sublimation”). An important reason for this

division was that subjects considered either universal or technical in nature (e.g., science, math,

and English language) were taught using textbooks that originated in “developed” English-

speaking regions (e.g., Europe and Australia). Parts of these textbooks were translated into

Karen and parts (e.g., diagrams with labels) were left in English. Photocopies of the books were

then distributed to the camp schools.

The Karen developed the syllabi and the ‘curricula’ drawing on multiple sources, putting

it together in a way that made sense to the teachers on the curricula development team. For

example, the curricula for subjects such as math and science were developed by drawing topics

from several ID country sources, rearranging the topics (particularly in science) and combining

sources into a single textbook. For other, more Karen-centric subjects such as Karen language

and history, the refugees and the EDA staff worked together to draft a curriculum, gathering

topics from ID sources and creating Karen-specific content (fieldnotes, March 2014; interview,

Aug. 5, 2011). Oh (2005) noted, “The content taught in the schools in the refugee camps is

more akin to a set of syllabi for each grade and for each subject than to a curriculum, and this

only applies to some subjects. . . In other words, the syllabi were created without a framework

which linked them sequentially. This then became known as the ‘curriculum’”.

The EDA/KREG basic education system offers inclusive programming for standardsK-10.

The system started with the creation of curricula for standards 1-4; afterwards, curricula for

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standards 5-8 and 9-10 were developed. A pre-K curriculum, child-safe spaces, and inclusion

education were added, based on international education-in-emergencies policies and best

practices, and on recommendations from international practitioners who had been active in the

field for years. Reflective of international education policy (e.g., MSEE), EDA, working with

multiple donors, was able to revise the curricula used in the standard 1-4 camp schools and

print it again three times; the curricula continue to undergo modifications and updates. They

are widely supported internationally by public and private organizations willing to fund printing

costs, student assessment costs, and technical assistance.

Curricula for standards 5-10 do not have the same support, have not been updated as

often, and receive far less technical assistance (interview, Aug. 6, 2011; fieldnotes, March 10,

2014).25 This reduced attention parallels broader historical international education attention

focused on basic education.

Primary and post-primary curricula development. In 1987, the World Bank announced

that it would adopt policy recommendations that arose from their economists’ approach to

calculating the rate of public return method to various educational investments. The rate of

return method had been championed by economists such as Psacharopoulos (1981, 2004), who

sought to show that education was a sound and profitable state investment. The education

policies the Bank adopted included: a). Emphasizing primary education (particularly for girls) as

25 In addition to the KREG directed, Karen-language education offered in the southern seven camps, there is also a form of “private” education at primary, secondary, and post-secondary levels. Private education is often religious, sponsored by a Baptist or Catholic church based in a high-income country (e.g., Italy, Australia) and using curricula aimed at religious education in addition to secular subjects. The language of instruction in these schools varies. There is usually only one school per religious organization per camp, and schools located in large camps may have dormitories for students who live too far to walk back and forth every day (Oh et al., 2006; Zeus, 2009; fieldnotes, July 4, 2007, and May 15, 2014; EDA, 2005).

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a public investment in human resources. b). Encouraging private funding of university-level

education. c). Despite the increased private returns, investments in secondary and tertiary

education are still profitable and should be considered, because investments in secondary and

higher education provide a balanced human resource development program. d). As a country

develops, the rate of returns on education can be expected to diminish, however they are not

expected dip below the level of profitability, thus continued investment in education is

recommended (Heyneman, 2003).

Looking for increased rates of return, funders often stipulated that the funds be used for

primary education. Because ID professionals define project success as the fulfillment of a

human right through access to a quality, basic education, updating secondary curricula is not a

priority for them either. In addition to a reduced amount of financial and therefore ID technical

support for secondary education, there are also fewer teachers who are able to work on

curricular revisions at the secondary level. Due to the ID definitions of project success, the

refugees have little bargaining power with which to persuade the ID professionals to update the

secondary curricula. This is an arena in which ID logics trump the needs and rights of refugees,

while in other areas (e.g., language) this is not the case.

In addition to funding the curricular revisions, EDA and KREG recruited multiple bilateral

and multilateral donors to fund K-10 operations, including teacher and administrative salaries,

operating expenses (building maintenance and classroom supplies), and teacher training. The

following section examines the teacher training available to camp-based teachers. As with

curricular support, it argues that by acknowledging only internationally-recognized countries

and governments and failing to acknowledge the state- and nation-building aspects of the

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camp-based education system, the RTG and the international community created a space for

the development of an education system (including teachers) grounded in Karen nationalism

and separatism.

Teacher training. EDA relied on the refugees to inform them about cultural aspects of

the curricula and were agreeable to virtually anything recommended by the refugees that did

not interfere with the RTG’s restrictions or internationally recommended content and

pedagogical practices. For several reasons, EDA worked with KED to hire and train enough

refugees as educators and administrators for all of the schools. First, the RTG restricted access

of foreigners in the camps, which necessitated the hiring and training of refugees, a subset of

whom eventually formed the core group of camp-based curriculum developers. A second

reason for hiring and training refugee staff was due to EDA’s commitment to the

implementation of good practices recommended in humanitarian relief procedures and in

development policies (e.g., Dakar Framework for Action). These recommended practices

included encouraging refugee participation and project ownership (Oh, 2005; UNESCO, 1990,

2000).

All of the experts hired by EDA to help the camps train K-10 teachers were foreigners

who had been educated at universities promoting ID ideology. Most held advanced degrees in

education or public policy, and some had experience working along the border in other

capacities. Under the umbrella of capacity building, these experts taught the Karen how to

implement internationally recognized best pedagogical practices, such as learner-centered

pedagogy, in their schools and gave the Karen talking points about why some of the traditional

practices, such as rote memorization and corporal punishment, should no longer have a place in

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the camp education system.

EDA’s teacher trainings focused on educational administration policies and procedures

(e.g., attendance, supply storage, building maintenance) and teaching strategies (e.g., learner-

centered pedagogy, multiple assessment strategies, whole language). The trainings were held

initially in English and translated into Karen until there were enough trained Karen speakers to

present the trainings to new teacher trainees directly in Karen. Due to high teacher turnover,

the training of trainers continued in English, with the trainers then teaching in Karen in the

teacher-training centers in camp. Initially, English curricula grounded in ID ideology were used;

over time, these materials were translated and contextualized (to a greater or lesser extent) to

meet the needs of the Karen students (interview, Aug. 3, 2012).

The experts approached teacher education in the camps from a skills-training

perspective rather than an educational perspective. That is, there was and continues to be a

dissemination of best-practice methods without discussion of the ideology and meanings

behind them. To train teachers, EDA drew on the recommendations provided at large

international conferences, such as the World Conference on Education for All. EDA worked with

international education experts to design training programs that enabled them to train large

numbers of people in a relatively short time to be teachers. Taking into account the time

limitations of the emergency situation resulted in a focus on the classroom-based actions of

teachers and a lack of information or thought given about the theories behind the actions being

recommended. Given the large number of people who needed to be trained, there was a tacit

assumption that the foreign experts—who had the only resources available for such trainings—

would show the refugees how to be good teachers as quickly as possible. The theory behind

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these recommended approaches to pedagogy was considered a luxury the camps and their

schools could not afford. In this sense, EDA’s approach mirrors an emergency aid stance toward

issues of quality: better to have some teachers, with less training, available to immediately

address the need, then take the time to perfect a teacher’s training while the emergency rolls

on. As Chabbott (2014) notes, this understanding of the role of emergency aid stands in

contrast to development approaches to education, which can cause problems for programs and

partners if and as they see the need to shift from one register to the next.

Within an emergency aid framework, teachers in the camps are considered

craftspeople, who hone their craft with practice. They are not considered artists or

academicians, because they do not participate in advancing the practice of teaching other than

in contextualizing international best practices to the camp setting. Given the high rate of

teacher turnover, the focus on quickly training large numbers of people in the basics of

teaching continues to be a cornerstone of the camp education system (See Figure 2).

Figure 2. Contents from “Teaching Skills”, a module used in camp-based teacher-training centers.

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The above figure demonstrates the “training” mentality to teacher education common

in the camps. It dissects the art of teaching into discrete, prescribed skills, without giving the

philosophy behind them or the intended consequences of their use beyond student

achievement. To increase its effectiveness and reduce its prescriptiveness, this module could be

paired with content and discussions on the philosophies behind suggested pedagogies such as

group work, equality in the classroom, and assessment. Instead, this module assumes there is a

singular correct relationship between teachers and students and does not take into account the

possibility, acceptability, and efficacy of relationships and power dynamics other than those

prescribed by ID ideology.

As with the primary curriculum, this mode of teacher training was acceptable to the

three main stakeholders for different reasons and facilitated the maintenance of the coalition.

For the RTG, training refugee teachers in the camp-based system re-enforced the goal of

promoting a non-Thai identity in students. It also reduced the potential mismatch in services

between the refugee camps and the surrounding Thai communities that could have occurred

had foreign teachers been allowed to staff the camp schools. For EDA, teacher training of this

sort met their need to many teachers quickly. A high teacher turn-over rate in the camps meant

that this sort of “crisis training” was never replaced with a curriculum that provided a deeper

understanding of the philosophies behind teaching and learning. For the Karen, this was the

first time they had access to teacher training of any kind. As they did not have anything to

compare it to and it was certainly better than nothing, they were satisfied with it.

The subjects studied, topics within the subjects, and teaching and learning materials in

the camps were vastly different from the official Burmese state education system. Too, the

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teacher training in the camps reflected ways of teaching and acceptable interactions between

students and teachers that were not part of the Burmese state teacher training courses.

Another difference between the camp-based education system and the Burmese state

education system was that the teachers and students shared a common ethnicity, a common

history of oppression, and experiences of living in exile. The following section examines how

these differences between the camp-based education system and the Burmese state education

system led, in part, to a divergence of the camp-based Karen from the Burma-based Karen.

Divergence of the Camp-Based and Burma-based Karen

Karen individuals who live in politically and geographically different situations have

access to different forms of education—which in turn attempts to shape quite different

worldviews. As mentioned above, those who live in the Black areas have access to KED-

administered education, which is taught in Karen, with Burmese as a required subject.

Internally displaced persons may have access to education taught by a volunteer in their

settlement,26 and those living in government-controlled areas have limited access to

government-administered education, which is taught in Burmese. The camp-based Karen

primarily access KREG administered education, which is taught in Karen, attempts to

(re)produce a longing and demand for the Karen state, and over time has incorporated many

international principles related to quality and content of education.

An example of a difference between camp-based Karen and Burma-based Karen

26There are organizations based along the border that travel without documentation into Burma to provide teacher training to the volunteer teachers in the IDP settlements and teaching and learning supplies to internally displaced people. The members of these organizations have all received teacher training in or around the camps, all speak the local dialect. The travel mostly on foot, walking for days to reach the IDP camps (fieldnotes, June2, Aug. 1, 2012; personal communications, Aug 2013).

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education was provided by a teacher in the camp. He and his students believed that the

environmental education module used in camp was very important. “However, people in

Burma do not agree with it. If we tell them there is a bioaccumulation of toxins in fish due to

pesticides, they think we are foolish people because we refuse to eat the fish. They say we are

‘educated fools’” (interview, April 2, 2014).

Unpacking this example reveals much about the divergence of the camp-based Karen

and the Burma-based Karen cultures. To begin with, fish paste is a quintessential part of the

Karen diet. Fish paste is fermented fish that can be added to virtually any savory food to

enhance the flavor. It comes in different colors and flavors and is sold by weight. In a sense, it

plays a role analogous to that of cheese, in the Wisconsin, U.S. diet, keeping in mind that stinky

cheese and cheese with mold on the rind is often considered a delicacy. Most Karen eat and

enjoy fish paste, and the few who do not are often treated with sympathy and thought to have

a genetic anomaly (comparable to being lactose intolerant in Wisconsin). If a person does not

eat fish paste, it is highly likely she either has a genetic defect or is not truly Karen. (Likewise,

foreigners who enjoy fish paste are often greeted with cheers of “You are Karen!”).

Given the supreme importance of fish paste to the Karen diet and culture, a camp-based

Karen person who arrives inside Burma and refuses to eat fish, including fish paste, is likely to

be seen not as an outsider but rather as a traitor, someone who claims to be Karen but is clearly

not; someone who claims to know Karen traditions and ways of life but refuses to partake in

one of the most basic Karen traditions.

From the camp-based Karen point of view, the Karen who are eating the fish and fish

paste from the poisoned water are putting themselves and their families in danger. Multiple

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camp-based Karen have expressed frustration with the unwillingness of the Burma-based Karen

to listen and learn from (i.e., trust) those who have come from the camps and whose education

has included the political and environmental ramifications of science in addition to Karen

traditions. There seems to be a sadness combined with empathy for the lack of trust, and a

resignation to the idea that the Burma-based Karen are doomed to remain oppressed and un-

free. There seems to be a recognition that, in order to survive, the Karen culture must evolve

over time; maintaining the traditional culture without making modifications to address the

changing political, environmental, and economic situations will eventually destroy the Karen.

Incorporating ID ideology, including a political and environmental understanding of

science, into the camp-based education system has, by default, modified the Karen worldview

that is considered essential to Karen identity. The centrality of nation-building to the structure

and focus of the camp education system helps illuminate the environment of longing for a

return to the seat of Karen-ness that shaped many aspects of the camp. In this protracted

refugee situation, children have grown up to be fiercely loyal to the Karen culture, yet they

have never lived in Karen state. This parallels Malkki’s (1995) analysis of the way in which the

camp-based refugees placed dominant themes of their mythico-history into the sociopolitical

context of the refugee camps where they were “remembered and reproduced, consolidated

and transformed” (p. 105).

Place and culture. Escobar’s (2001, 2008) argument that culture and place are

inextricably tied helps explicate the extent to which the research revealed that the culture to

which the students feel such loyalty is different from the culture maintained by the Karen

people living in Karen state. Multiple informal discussions with camp residents and KREG staff

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led me to believe that, according to displaced Karen living in Thailand, loyalty to a worldview is

at the heart of being Karen, with the concept of citizen-member being influenced by both

internationally recognized, geo-political borders (see Chapter 2) and by an alternative

understanding of place that includes its relation to the “understanding of being and knowing”

(fieldnotes, March 1-April 2, 2014; Escobar, 2001, p. 140). Escobar (2001) described the

conception of place as “. . . the experience of a particular location with some measure of

groundedness (however, unstable), sense of boundaries (however, permeable), and connection

to everyday life, even if its identity is constructed, traversed by power, and never fixed” (p.

140).

It seemed as though physical displacement into camps situated in areas to which

refugees felt no interest or claim played an important role in the (re)construction of Karen

ethnic identity. Similar to Malkki’s (1995) observations of refugees from Burundi, the Karen

refugees appeared to have re-formed their identities in their displacement; they had culled

meaning from their lived experiences in the camps. Life in the camps facilitated the

development of a culture and identity that represented, to some extent, the Karen identity they

had desired while in Burma. Exile had enabled a different and potentially subversive re-

formation of Karen ethnicity and the relationships between the Karen and the Burmese and the

Karen and the international community.

In this sense, the nation-building aspects of the camp-based Karen education system

helped support the construction of a Karen identity that fit uncomfortably into any geographic

space—and perhaps particularly, into the geographic space that was considered the Karen

“home”. Black (2001) argued that the concept of “home” can indicate beliefs and traditions in

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addition to physical places. If we understand place to be a lived experience in addition to a

political border, then understanding the creation of citizens-members in the camps becomes

paramount, with education and education policy playing a key role in shaping students’

worldviews.

KREG schools are operated by and for camp-based Karen people and are grounded in

camp-based Karen ideology of cultural self-determination in the context of exile from their

home country, freedom of cultural expression, and possibilities of international interactions in

the refugee camps (see Young, 2001 & 2005). Camp-based actors are aware of the differences

that exist between their ideas, beliefs, nationalist goals, and education practices, and those of

Karen who stayed in Burma. Indeed, when talking about the people who stayed in Burma, there

was often a sense of loss of both the individuals and of the way of life, neither of which

refugees expected could be regained. Given that the camp-based Karen increasingly saw

themselves as the remaining repository for a viable Karen culture and self-determination, it is

perhaps not surprising that a KREG administrator indicated that different groups (even of

Karen) should have different educational policies and processes. “Community input does not

really have a place in international policy. Each group should have their own policies”. I asked

her about defining the groups, and she indicated the groups were defined both geographically

and ethnically, a sentiment expressed multiple times by many people throughout my stay along

the border. In this conversation, camp-based Karen were different from the Burma-based Karen

and each group needed to develop their own policies. When I asked her about state-level

policies, thereby implying repatriation, she repeated that each group needed to develop their

own policies. Interestingly, this was the same administrator who had told me earlier that KREG

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and KED are “exactly the same” (fieldnotes, Feb. 12, 2014), a point to which I will return in

chapter 8.

Malkki (1995) argued that the refugee vision of nation-building is likely to be deeply

informed by the process of exile. For the camp-based Karen, I argue that the refugee vision of

nation-building was enabled in particular ways by the process of exile. The Karen who were

initially exiled came from Black areas, which were dominated by an ideology of Karen

nationalism. They had their own, unaccredited, school systems that taught Karen language and

culture. They did not have technical assistance (either Burmese or foreign) for teacher training,

and lacked teaching and learning materials. The process of exile brought these previous

educational practices, Karen nationalism, international resources, and a growing recognition of

the power to potentially be had by interfacing directly with international organizations together

to shape the camp-based education system. This new, camp-based education system

maintained much of the nationalist ideology of the schools in the Black area, but was shaped by

foreign technical and financial assistance, by the experience of living in the camps, and by the

process of exile. The Karen language and culture that were evolving and being passed down by

the school system reflected the culture inside the camp, including an increased belief in the

verity of science and a decreased reliance on traditional stories and practices.

Self-determination of camp-based Karen culture. The dominant voices among those

who participated in the creation of the education system advocated strongly in favor of using

education as a tool for nation-building, despite being exiled from their territory. They saw

education as a way to build their nation by ensuring that virtually all Karen children were

steeped in their language and culture and by incorporating ID ideology and ideas, such as

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accountability, transparency, and an understanding of an individualistic mindset, necessary for

international recognition of the Karen autonomous region. Schooling was recognized by

foreigners, and increasingly by the Karen leadership, as a legitimate way to learn skills needed

to interact with the international community, and by requiring primary education, the Karen

understood it as an effective way to maintain the Karen culture by using it to mould students

into citizens-members of the Karen ethnic group (see also Gandin & Apple, 2002).

Self-determination of culture took on a new meaning as the Karen people interacted

daily with sympathetic foreigners in the refugee camps and realized that, as Karen in refugee

camps, they could interface with the international community without the Burmese

government as a mediator. Direct interfacing could, in turn, provide an opportunity for the

Karen to argue for international recognition as a people in their own right, rather than an ethnic

minority subcategory of the Burmese state (see e.g., Keohane, 1971). Using the content of the

ID education source materials gave the refugees access to the material domain prioritized by ID

actors. These materials were not simply accepted and incorporated, however. They were

filtered, through the organization of the content and the language of instruction, which were

shaped by camp-based Karen ideology. Arguing for mother tongue language policies made

technical sense to the CCSDPT (because of international best practices concerning the quality of

learning), was acceptable to the RTG (because it was not Thai), and would lead, it was

anticipated by all, to camp-educated children neither speaking nor understanding Burmese and

Thai languages. This outcome, which in effect encouraged a Karen nation-building education

system, was viewed as a best practice by ID actors, and on the part of the Karen a form of

rebellion against the current state system in general and specifically against Burma.

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In the spirit of development, EDA had always planned on handing over the camp-based

education system to the refugees. The political changes inside Burma in 2010, funder fatigue

contributed to the handover of the camp-based education system to KREG, which was

completed in 2013.

In 2011, KREG brought a memo to the June CCSDPT-Education subcommittee meeting

and asked EDA to photocopy it and help distribute it. The title of the memo was “Concept for

School Intervention (School Fees) – 2011”. The memo began by acknowledging the protracted

nature of the refugee situation and the need for durable solutions. The second paragraph

indicated:

“The education system in the camp was brought in to the refugee camps from their homeland [and] is owned by the refugee communities. The system and the schools, either with or without external assistance (NGO support), they will continue to run with minimum support from [the] community. But with the NGO support the quality of education will improve as the resources will be more sufficient and available” (released by KREG at a CCSDPT-education committee meeting, June 2011). The memo concluded by offering suggestions for requiring parent involvement and the

institution of school fees for public and private camp schools. While the funding mechanisms

were debated and ultimately rejected, the notion that the system was brought from the

homeland went uncontested, and the statement “is owned by the refugee communities” was

met with nods of approval from the CCSDPT members (fieldnotes, June 28, 2011).

KREG’s and CCSDPT’s acceptance of the notions that the education system was brought

from the homeland indicates a lack of awareness/willingness to acknowledge the significant

impact of international ideas (e.g., access to education, quality education) brought by NGOs on

the camp-based education system. Failure to recognized these influences results in the failure

to recognize/acknowledge the differences between camp-based and Burma-based Karen

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education systems and ultimately cultures. Nods of approval for the phrase “owned by the

refugee communities” indicates failure to recognize that the system is, de facto, owned by the

camp-based Karen community, and the international community has been complicit in

promoting the dominance of one ethnic group in the camps. In essence, these tacit agreements

indicated a comradery, indeed a mutual respect, between the KREG and the NGOs present at

the meeting.

Given the standpoints of the two groups, I believe each group may have interpreted this

mutual respect differently. The NGO staff at the table, grounded in the ideals of human rights

and international best practices, likely understood this mutual respect as indicative of their

successful implementation of best practices resulting in refugee ownership and buy-in for the

program, which could, in a development setting (albeit not in a temporary setting-the presence

of which often goes unacknowledged), result in a form of sustainability, a long-term goal of

development (not humanitarian aid) workers. The NGO staff likely saw this mutual respect as

the end of a long process.

The KREG staff likely reflected the organization’s understanding that this mutual respect

was a step toward international recognition of the Karen as a legitimate entity within the

international community. This mutual respect may have been interpreted by the KREG staff as

the beginning of a new relationship. By March 2014, when EDA closed its office in Thailand, the

educational programming inside the camps included two editions of standards (grades) 1-8

textbooks for each subject, special education, vocational education, and other nonformal

educational opportunities. There is at least one primary school in each section of the camps.

Depending on the size and population of the camps, one or several secondary schools might

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serve the entire camp. The camp education projects now are managed entirely by KREG, with

the majority of the funding coming from private foundations and subgrants from larger INGOs

(McConnachie, 2014; S’Phan Shaung, 2014; World Education, 2014; EDA, 2013). KREG members

are quick to point out that it is superior to the Burmese education system, due in large part to

the INGO best practices (theoretically) incorporated into the curricula. The small number of

INGO jobs available limited the role of education in creating economic growth.

Conclusion

By acknowledging only internationally recognized countries and governments, and thus

only engaging politics related to Thai state-building and Burmese nationalist politics (which, at

the time, were viewed internationally as anathema), the RTG and the international community

created a space for the Karen community to develop an education system whose nation-

building aspects highlighted Karen nationalism and separatism. This nationalism and separatism

reflected ideas of the modern Karen nation as envisioned by the representatives of the Karen

community who were involved in the creation of the camp-based education system. Indeed,

the status of Burma as a pariah state made some ID organizations view Karen nation-building as

a potentially important counterbalance to Burmese nationalism—that is, the camp schools

would be a place where refugees would learn to connect with and value their minoritized

culture, language, and social practices.

The nationalistic and potentially separatist education system, which are antithetical to

the durable solution now being considered (repatriation), were permitted because the RTG and

EDA focused on the absence and presence of specific education criteria based on their

positional interests, without looking at the education programming from other perspectives,

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such as those of the GRUM or the other ethnic minority members living in the camps. Given the

RTG’s desire to ensure that the refugees were not acculturated into Thai culture, it is likely that

the RTG was unaware of the separatist agenda being put forth by the KED, particularly as the

KED had no internationally recognized territory. As the RTG was opposed to any discussion of

integration, having students who identified as Karen rather than Thai effectively assured this

goal. EDA, as an international organization that was interested in human rights, likely

understood the KED agenda through a rights-based lens such as this: “The development of

respect for the child's parents, his or her own cultural identity, language and values, for the

national values of the country in which the child is living, the country from which he or she may

originate, and for civilizations different from his or her own” (Convention on the Rights of a

Child, Article 29c). From the viewpoint of INGOs, providing education in Karen was a step

toward correcting a human rights violation that had continued for far too long.

The GRUM was focused on the armed conflict and on people leaving the country. There

is no indication that they were attending closely to the services the refugees received after they

were ensconced in camps. Even if they had been, they were an international pariah at the time,

and like the NGOs, many other international and national bodies would have considered it

reasonable for the education system to play an oppositional role to the Burmese oppression of

ethnic minority peoples and cultures.

The overpowering number of organized Karen voices, working with EDA, silenced other

ethnic groups in camp.; using participatory methods with high degrees of participation and

participatory natures of communication, EDA fostered strong Karen ownership of the education

system. The absence of international standards and policies regarding education in emergency

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settings resulted in EDA and KED working together to develop curricula and train teachers in

the early years of the system. EDA drew on its understanding of education in development

settings and on its experiences in refugee settings, and the KED worked to ensure cultural

appropriateness of the content and the medium of instruction. Because the textbooks were not

in the Karen language, the organizations worked together to translate them and to translate

other materials that EDA and other funders considered to be appropriate for the camp setting.

Based on EDA’s understanding of what it considered to be universal best practices, it took the

lead in teacher training, focusing on training teachers in classroom skills that assumed a

particular relationship between teacher and student.

After standard 10, there is little for graduates to do. The INGOs in camp hire as many

graduates as possible, but there simply are not enough jobs. Graduates, like nongraduates,

open shops selling candies and cold drinks; some offer motorcycle and bicycle repair; and there

are beauty shops and restaurants in camp, but given that more than half of the population has

an income of zero, these entrepreneurs rarely make more than enough to cover their costs.

Despite the lack of employment opportunities, the demand for postsecondary education grew

as the number of standard 10 graduates increased.

The demand for post-secondary education grew for several reasons. First, there was

very little to do in camp, and, as we will see in Chapter 5, post-secondary education provided

young adults with an identity and an acceptable role in society. Additionally, post-secondary

education was common in Karen state and encouraged by the KNU prior to the initiation of the

camps. The PKR felt the absence of post-secondary education in the camps as they attempted

to fill the various positions within the organization. While there was limited support for post-

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secondary education from INGOs and their funders, private foundations, faith-based

organizations, and smaller, national NGOs supported post-secondary education in the camps.

Post-secondary education ranged from academic education which could potentially lead to

employment with an INGO, to vocational technology such as motorcycle mechanics or welding,

to theological training to prepare individuals to be camp-based clergy, to sector-specific training

such as teacher education and community health worker education.

Chapters 5 and 6 examine the post-secondary education system that formed in the

camps in response to graduates of the K-10 camp-based education system run by KREG.

Building on the camp-based Karen ideology fostered by the K-10 education, the Post-Secondary

Education System (PSES) aimed to increase the likelihood of Karen refugee self-determination.

The PSES focused on creating an internationally recognized Karen nation by creating a small

number of Karen individuals who were fluent in English and the concepts constituting ID

ideology, and whose identity was grounded in their Karen-ness. This would enable the refugees

to communicate and negotiate with ID actors directly, and arguably more efficiently, rather

than going through the Burmese.

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CHAPTER 5: POST-SECONDARY EDUCATION IN THE CAMPS

Protracted refugee situations straddle the line between (post)conflict emergency and

development settings. Because such settings fall between the cracks of international

classification schemes, there is incomplete international guidance for education systems

serving refugees in protracted situations, particularly with regards to tertiary education. For

example, INEE addresses education in emergencies but does not address post-secondary

education. Similarly, the Guidebook for Planning Education in Emergencies and Reconstruction

(UNESCO, 2007), which found its origins in Sinclair’s 2002 Planning Education In and After

Emergencies, assumes either the students will be able to attend an established tertiary

education program when the emergency situation ends or that the education most needed is

life skills and vocational education; academic education is a luxury refugees cannot afford

(Bauman, 2004). Meanwhile, literature on international development education discusses

tertiary education; however, it assumes that such education is occurring in a state and does not

discuss protracted refugee situations.27

Despite this gap in international attention and resourcing, tertiary education was

developed in the camps along the Thailand-Burma border by the KED. For the Karen, nation

27 In 2013, the UNHCR and UNDP launched a joint program called the “Transitional Solutions Initiative” that aims to address concerns unique to protracted refugee situations. This initiative may eventually address post-secondary education; however, it is not yet available along the Thailand-Burma border. See UNHCR-UNDP (2013).

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building is an important purpose of the camp-based education system, and post-secondary

education plays a key role in these efforts. As the K-10 camp-based education system examined

in chapter 4 grew and increasingly met its goal of fostering anticolonial nationalism, based on

the social and institutional practices of the Karen culture, graduates of the system became

increasingly aware of the need to engage with the international community. Colonization by the

British and then the Bama (see Chapter 2), had rendered the Karen in effect a subcategory of

the Bama people rather than a separate ethnic—and political—group. The structure of the

camps in Thailand, as noted in Chapter 3, provided a space where the Karen were dominant in

number and, due to the democratic practices of the NGOs, in political power. This dominance

allowed for the creation of a K-10 camp-based education system that not only favored Karen

culture but also increasingly understood the importance of having a Karen voice in the

international community.

Chapter 5 examines the formation of Post-Secondary Education System (PSES) as an

option for education that is open to graduates of the K-10 KREG schools. The PSES founders

understood an extant need to have Karen people who can speak and act in ways that would be

recognized by the international community. As a result, a key role of the PSES is to promote

Karen students’ familiarity with and understanding of ID ideology in relation to the Karen

culture and Karen nationalist goals, so that these future leaders will be able to interact

effectively with the international community as they advocate for evolving Karen economic,

social, and political needs and wants. This chapter argues that the post-secondary Karen

education system aims to enhance knowledge and understanding of ID ideology by building on

the educational foundation that is grounded in camp-based Karen ideology cultivated

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throughout primary and secondary camp-based education thereby encouraging the emergence

and strengthening of a Karen nation that is self-determining in how it modernizes and interacts

with the international community.

Chapter 6 further examines the learning and teaching materials and pedagogy used by

the PSES schools to enhance Karen student understanding of ID ideology, which plays a key role

in resisting repatriation and the “convergence” or blending of the camp-based education

system into the Myanmar education system. Chapter 7 provides the political context for the

increased possibility of repatriation, and Chapter 8 examines the ways in which KREG officials

draw on both camp-based Karen ideology and ID ideology to resist repatriation and possible re-

colonization of the Karen by the Bama people who are working with international organizations

to retain the status quo in the international community. Chapter 8 analyzes the process of

education system convergence, and while the camp-based K-10 schools are de facto the subject

of Chapter 8, the KREG prioritized PSES preparation for resisting convergence.

The following section examines options and opportunities for K-10 graduates before and

after encampment, arguing that tertiary education was a part of Karen culture long before the

camps were created. The subsequent sections examine the PSES developed in the camps,

including the physical and social aspects of the schools in addition to the overall purpose of

developing a system of post-secondary educational institutions. The chapter concludes by

examining the role and meaning of Burmese, Karen, Thai, and English languages in the PSES

schools.

Graduates of K-10 Camp-Based Education

PSES was originally initiated by KED in 1982 in Mar Ner Plaw, Karen State, Burma, the

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same town that hosted the KNU’s headquarters. PSES strove to provide higher education that

reflected the values of the rebel non-state actors and that trained personnel for positions

within KNU, including the KED (PSES, 2011; KREG, 2012b; Win Htein, 1999).

In 1995, Mar Ner Plaw was attacked by both the tatmadaw and by the DKBA a rebel

group that had signed a ceasefire agreement with the tatmadaw. The attack caused the Mar

Ner Plaw residents to seek safety on the Thailand side of the river. These refugees were

eventually organized into two camps, both located on the mountains that bound the river. The

fall of Mar Ner Plaw was devastating to the Karen, and when people moved to the refugee

camps in Thailand, PSES was not immediately re-started (PSES, 2011; interview, Feb. 25, 2014;

fieldnotes, March 16, 2014).

KREG standard 10 graduates had limited options during these years; they could find one

of the few jobs in camp and/or get married (See Figure 3). None of the major international

funders expressed interest in working with a higher education program, and international

education experts were more interested in providing access to quality primary education.

Figure 3. Options for graduates of KREG schools (based on Figure 2 in Oh, 2008).

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One of the reasons for the lack of international interest in tertiary education for

refugees, as opposed to primary education, was the concern that such funding primarily served

to create private gains for the individuals who competed post-secondary education. This was a

significant shift from international responses to higher education funding right after

decolonization, when higher education was expected to help build new nation-states (that, is

international understandings of higher education in the 1960s and 1970s were much closer to

Karen understandings of the purposes and outcomes of higher education than were

international understandings of higher education in the 2000s). Another issue was that higher

education is not viewed as a human right (see, for example, CRC, Article 28), so there is no

international pressure to provide access. Additionally, the RTG’s concerns regarding education

and national security led them to expressly prohibit education that might allow graduates to

take employment opportunities from Thai citizens. Because the RTG tightly controlled the

camps and aid organization within the camps, camp residents and implementing NGOs

considered initiating tertiary education to be a risk that might produce students who would

either pressure to take Thai jobs, or who would become increasingly dissatisfied with the

limited options available within the camps (Lang, 2002; Lenton, 2004).

Between 1994 and 2008, informal adult education in the camps had been taking place

on a small scale. Christian missionaries had established programs training adults to be camp-

based clergy members. Members of the aid community also developed informal income

generation activities, such as weaving and soap making classes (however the RTG did not

permit selling the products outside of the camps). English language classes were also geared

toward adult learners. Graduates of the KREG system were encouraged to continue their

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education by enrolling in one or more of these programs.

Over time, post-10 programs and schools were formed by collaborations between

international organizations and camp residents to train individuals for specific professions (e.g.,

teachers and health workers), and to provide continuing academic education to standard 10

graduates. These adult and post-10 education programs tended to be under-resourced in terms

of human capacity, funding, and curricula. They tended to begin and end suddenly and there

was no continuity or overall vision that shaped them (interview, Feb. 16, 2014; interview, Feb.

25, 2014).

Three concurrent situations nevertheless led to the revitalization of PSES as a camp-

based program: 1. The Karen Refugee Committee began having difficulty finding trained

personnel living in the camps to fill vacancies in its administration, 2. Several Karen people who

had recently graduated from Spicer College in India wanted to assist the camps, and 3. A limited

number of education experts who worked for international organizations began to take an

interest in camp-based higher education.28 The following section examines the revitalization of

PSES in the camps and how the camp-based PSES reflected the various purposes of education

as understood by three main stakeholders: KREG, the PSES board of directors, and the

Education Border Project.

The Post-Secondary Education System

In April 2008, several Karen college graduates who had attended school in Maharashtra,

India, met along the Thailand-Burma border with the aim of developing a system to provide

28 The increased interest higher education in the Thailand-Burma border camps paralleled an increasing interest in higher education across the international development community.

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camp-based, post-10 education in English and Karen language for graduates of KREG schools.

This group formed the original members of the board of directors for the PSES schools. All were

alumni of Spicer College, a Seventh Day Adventist college adjacent to a public university, Pune

University. Spicer College and Pune University shared many classes and programs in the mid-

2000’s, however the collaboration ended in 2012, when Pune University adopted a new exam

system. The current PSES board of directors all graduated before 2012, and thus had access to

courses from both public and private universities.

The PSES board of directors developed a system that reflected the Indian system of

credits, dress code, student codes of conduct, etc. This system in turn reflected many of the

norms and organizational approaches of the British education system that was imposed on

India during the colonial period. The board of directors also created the vision and mission of

the PSES and developed the structure of the schools and the curriculum framework for the

lower level (approximately equivalent to grades 11).

The board of directors decided that the subjects taught at the PSES schools would

mirror those of the general education curriculum at their alma mater, Spicer College, with the

addition of Karen language. These subjects included math, science, English, social science,

physical education, foreign language, philosophy of education and computers. The developed a

system of credits for each required and elective subject in addition to overall graduation

requirements.

They began working with an existing academically-focused post-10 school in each of five

camps to develop a shared mission statement for a camp-based Post-Secondary Education

System: “To bring forth graduates with commitments to serve their communities in specific skill

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areas.” Coming under the auspices of PSES meant that the schools agreed to use the PSES

curricula, conform to its administrative procedures, and assess students according to PSES

policies. The participating post-10 schools were called Junior Colleges (KREG, 2012; interview,

Feb. 25, 2014).

The Physical and Social Environment of a Junior College

This section examines how the Junior Colleges are experienced by students and

teachers. This section examines the physical characteristics of the schools and how the students

use the space. It also examines the language of instruction and socialization both inside the

classroom and on campus. This analysis indicates that the physical and social environments of

the schools reflect those that easily could be imagined in a Karen nation.

The physical structure of the junior colleges. The land allocated for the camps is not

considered desirable land by the RTG, and this is evidenced by the fact that four of the six

schools were built on steep inclines. The school campuses consist of multiple buildings:

classrooms, library, dining hall, administrative office, dorms, outhouses, and storage areas.

Topography allowing, there is often an open common area in the center. Dirt paths, which

become slippery in the rain, lead from one building to another.

At the time of the research, all of the buildings’ walls were made of woven bamboo and

were between four and eight feet tall. If the walls reached all the way to the ceiling, there were

usually windows constructed to allow light into the building. The roofs were usually grass and

leaves woven together. One school had a classroom and administrative office with a tin roof,

which was unbearable in the heat and loud in the rainy season. The floors were either dirt or

cement. The classrooms tended to be rectangular, with tables and chairs facing a white board

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indicating the front of the classroom. Often two classrooms shared a wall. Administrative

offices had the required picture of the Thai king. They were also the storage areas for large car

batteries, which were recharged during night study (7-9pm) when the generator was on, thus

allowing administrators to use their laptops throughout the day.

Student life at a junior college. All junior colleges have a lower division, and presently

two have an upper division. The lower division courses are foundational courses that all

students are required to take. The schools with upper division courses offer lower division

graduates the opportunity to study public health or education in a mixture of Karen and English

language, and require internships prior to graduation. The sector-specific upper division is the

true embodiment of the PSES mission statement: “To bring forth graduates with commitments

to serve their communities in specific skill areas”. All graduates of lower division were eligible

to apply for a spot in one of the two upper division schools, and arrangements were made to

assist students to travel between camps as needed29. Most upper division students stayed in

the dorms.

Generally, students attend lower division in their home camps, although it was not

uncommon for students to attend school in a different camp. Students also came from inside

Burma and from the migrant population to attend the lower division schools. Each school

provides accommodation and the ability to transfer the student’s food rations to the school

should the students chose to live on campus, a common choice for students who come from

larger camps (20,000-40,000 official residents, several miles from end to end) and for students

29 Travel between camps is not legal, however the enforcement of these laws can be more or less strict depending on the guards working at the checkpoints. See Johnson (2013) and Hyun (2014) for more information.

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who attended school at a camp different from their home camp. This created an atmosphere

akin to that of a dormitory at a US school.

While at Mae La Oon, I stayed in the girl’s dorm. The building was made completely of bamboo with a leaf roof. The floor was approximately four feet off the ground to allow for the rainy season and the three steps leading up to the dorm were made of round bamboo stalks that spun as I walked on them (however the girls seemed to have no problem with this). All of the girls placed their flip-flops on the stairs or on the veranda, which was level with the penultimate step. Inside the door there was one hallway down the center of the building, with an electric light, powered by a generator, on both sides of the door. The hallway was paralleled by a raised platform on either side. Approximately every eight feet there was a woven bamboo panel separating the platforms into sleeping rooms. The side of the rooms facing the hallway was also formed from woven bamboo, with pieces of cloth serving as the doors. Each girl had her own sleeping room and sweeping the common hallway and veranda was a duty that rotated daily.

The sleeping room I was offered was equipped with two blankets (Mae La Oon is

in the mountains and can get chilly at night), a mosquito net, and a small table at which I sat on the floor and wrote fieldnotes in the evenings. The walls were decorated with butcher paper used by past math classes. For example, one of the posters/butcher papers had been used to teach algebra: “Volume = length x width” was written in English and a picture accompanied the formula.

The girls (and boys in the dorm next door) spent most of their free time in and

around the dorms. It was here that friends met before and after classes, hung out during the weekends, and spent their evenings. I arrived during final exam week, and I heard a girl next to me studying for her science exam by rocking her body and chanting her notes in English repeatedly: “…the brain controls the rest of the body…” Boys and girls called to each other from their respective verandas; however, visiting the opposite sex dorm was strictly forbidden. As my room was on the corner facing the boys’ dorm, I can say with a modicum of authority that this did not stop boys and girls from meeting outside behind the dorms after the generator was turned off for the night. The dorms seemed to be the social center of the school, and even students who lived at home spent a good portion of their free time there (fieldnotes, March 17-19, 2014).

Like colleges around the world, the junior college campuses form a particular space in

which students can have experiences they are unlikely to have elsewhere. On campus, students

can try social skills, meet people different from themselves and their families, and experience

freedom from the watchful eyes of their family and neighbors in ways that are not otherwise

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common in the camps, and that would not be common for non-students in Karen communities

in Burma. This is a space, in other words, that teaches students a set of skills, relationships, and

understandings about the future that more resemble ID ideologies (e.g., of individualism,

scientific rationality, etc.) than more common forms of Karen social relations. At the same time,

these experiences are also embedded in forms of Karen nationalism that are strengthened—

not weakened—by junior colleges’ engagement with ID ideology.

Drawing on their experiences at Spicer College (and without participation from camp

residents, teachers, or school administration), the PSES founders and original board members

created academic structure and policies of the junior colleges. As noted in the following section,

the academic policies of the PSES schools can largely be explained via neo-institutional theories.

This will be contrasted with policy implementation, which will be discussed in Chapter 6.

The Academic Policies of the PSES schools

Student admission to a junior college requires a graduation certificate from a KREG

secondary school, all of which use Karen language as the medium of instruction. Students who

attended non-KREG schools are considered on a case-by-case basis; however, given that the

language of instruction is Karen with a limited amount of English, very few non-Karen students

apply. While the students who were from inside Karen state were not graduates of the KREG

system, they all spoke Karen and the placement exams they took to enter PSES indicated that

their scores were similar to the KREG standard 10 graduates (fieldnotes, March-April, 2014). In

other words, the camp-based Karen ideology forms the fundamental admission criteria for

accessing the ID ideology available at the PSES schools.

Students from outside the camps who speak Karen language are often drawn to the

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Junior Colleges by the promise of a formal education—that is, an education that reflects the

norms described by neo-institutional theories. The notions of academic credits and graduation

requirements are not well understood by many; however, these students do understand the

value of graduating from a legitimate institution. One of the first classes a PSES student takes is

called “orientation”, which provides information about credits and graduation requirements

among other policies (e.g., dress code, attendance requirements, etc.). The following section

looks at the credits required to graduate from a Junior College.

PSES credentials. The Junior Colleges have two divisions: the lower division is equivalent

to grades 11-12, and the upper division is roughly equivalent to an Associate’s degree in the US.

The curricula for the upper division schools are developed by local and international sector

experts rather than by consultants hired by KREG, a practice that mirrors tertiary education in

Burma.30 The content developed by the international experts is based on the assumed

knowledge acquired during lower division. The vision for the education system is to have an

upper division at each of the PSES schools. Currently there are two upper divisions, one that

focuses on public health and one that focuses on education.

The founders of the PSES based the lower division curriculum on the Spicer College

general education curriculum. To graduate from lower division, a student must earn 33 credits

in English, 12 credits in Social Studies, 10 credits each in math and science, 9 language credits

(students can choose Thai or Burmese language), 3 credits in the philosophy of education, and 1

30 In Burma, higher education degrees are administrated by the government sector under which they fall. For example, a degree in medicine is administered by the Ministry of Health rather than by the Ministry of Education. Similarly, a degree in engineering is administered by the Ministry of Planning. The structure and controversies surrounding universities in Burma is beyond the scope of this paper. Please see authors such as Po Thaung Win (http://www.burmalibrary.org/docs21/Education/Popo-Thaung-Win-2015-An_Overview_of_Higher_Education_Reform_in_Myanmar-en.pdf ) for additional information.

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credit in each of: orientation, physical education, and computers. Ideally, these credits would

be earned over a two-year period; however, it is not uncommon for students to take several

extra semesters to earn the 80 required credits (interview, Feb 25, 2014; fieldnotes, April 3,

2014; KRCEE, 2012). The lower level coursework serves as remediation and/or content

expansion, depending on what the student actually learned by standard 10. The focus of

coursework in the lower level is to ensure that the students are prepared for upper level

courses. To graduate from lower division, students must pass exams that indicate, at least

theoretically, that they have mastered the knowledge, skills, and attitudes needed to go on to

upper division.

Based on the number of credits required, the PSES board of directors clearly places high

value on English language skills. While fluency in English could be thought of instrumentally as a

way for individual students to get jobs outside the camps, this is only one of several reasons for

the English focus in the curriculum. And, indeed, because of the very tight restrictions placed

both on refugee movement in and out of camps, and on refugees getting jobs outside of camps,

it this is a relatively minor reason for all of the students but a very, very small elite group who

hope to use English to continue their studies internationally. Instead, a primary consideration in

the focus on English is that fluency in English language increases the opportunities for the Karen

community to interface with the international community without going through the Burmese

government. It offers the Karen an opportunity to represent themselves in the international

arena. As this is one of the core purposes of higher education, it is not surprising to see the

number of credits and overall focus on some level of English mastery, including around ID

subjects such as public health and formal education.

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Purpose of Education at PSES

There are many reasons that students and other camp members give to attend PSES.

From the perspectives of the PSES board and KREG staff, PSES exists to strengthen the Karen

community by providing individuals the foundational knowledge and skills needed to effectively

serve their local communities and the greater Karen community. The following is an analysis of

conversations I had with students and teachers about their understandings of purpose of PSES

and what they hoped to accomplish. Examining the rationale of the teachers and students for

participating in PSES will provide some insight into the ways in which the material and the

spiritual forms of modernity are being linked together to form a Karen vision of national

modernity.

Students. In talking to students, there seemed to be various iterations of two main

purposes for attending PSES. Community service with the goal of developing the Karen

community was a dominant rationale for many students. This was articulated by a student who

came from inside Burma to attend a PSES school in the camps. This student indicated that he

had traveled to the camp specifically for this education and as soon as he finished the lower

level, he would return to his village, which is located in a Black area, to be a teacher and a

farmer. This student indicated that although his father had been killed when he was 11 years

old, neither he nor his family considered moving to the camps (fieldnotes, March 16, 2014).

Post-secondary education was not easily accessed on the Burmese side of the border; the camp

schools were thus viewed as the best option for continuing one’s education, particularly with a

goal of helping one’s community (or the Karen nation). Students at other non-English language

programs indicated similar rationales for attending post-secondary school on the Thailand side

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of the border.

“But if I…attend teacher training, I can help working for migrant schools and schools from Burmese borderline. I can also help working in those villages with poor education system. That is why I came to join here” (focus group, July 21, 2012).

“As for me, I am interested to work as a volunteer and a teacher. Then, the uncle31

at the training asked if I was interested to join a teacher preparation course. And I said yes though I do not have much education. The reason I decided to come here is because I would like to benefit my community” (focus group, July 22, 2012).

Students who came from outside the camps generally talked about post-10 education as

a way to improve their service to their communities. Education in the present is understood to

be a short-term activity, an interlude in their lives that will better prepare them to improve

their community.

A second, linked, reason students attended PSES was their feeling of being “too young”

to take a position in the community. Students indicated they felt unprepared to take on

leadership roles and believed that more education would better prepare them. One student

indicated, “I don’t know how to do. I need to learn more to help my community” (fieldnotes,

April 2, 2014). I asked this student if she was interested in studying a profession, like teaching

or public health (the two professional courses offered at PSES-upper level). She said she would

prefer more academic education, like attending an English immersion school after graduating

lower division, as this would allow her to get a job with an INGO. She indicated a utilitarian

focus on education, with the end goal of finding employment. The only employment available in

the camps is work that focuses on helping the community. This work is with a CBO or an INGO,

and the INGOs pay much better. As a result, the goal of working for an INGO to help the

31 “Uncle” is a term of respect used to indicate a man who is older than the person being spoken to.

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community is somewhat ambiguous, as this could mean literally to assist the community or it

could mean to simply find paid employment as opposed to paid (or subsistence) physical labor

(e.g., farming).

Several students and I stood outside a classroom that overlooked a paddy field where a

man was pushing a manual plow through knee-deep water. The following conversation

occurred:

KJ: “What do you want to do when you graduate?” Student: “I want to work in an office.” KJ: “What kind of office?” Student: “A CBO [community based organization] office so I can help the community.” KJ: “Why do you want to work in a CBO office?” Student: “It is air conditioned and I would wear a uniform.” KJ: “What would you want to do in the office?” Student: shrugs and smiles uncomfortably, “Office work. Like papers and filing.” KJ: “What skills do you need to work in an office?” Student: “I need to speak English. That is why I practice with you. If I didn’t come here

[post-secondary school] I would have to work like that [pointing to the man who was plowing the paddy field]. I am very happy to be here. I will work hard.”

The other students and a teacher who had joined us agreed (fieldnotes, July 5, 2012).

By indicating that he thought English language was an important skill (and by not

mentioning any other skills), the student provided an insight into some of his rationales for

attending a post-secondary program. He desired to work for his community, in a leadership

role, and this leadership role may involve interfacing with English-speaking foreigners on a

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regular basis. This conversation also indicates the student’s desire to find employment that is

not physically demanding. Thus he hoped to be a leader or a manager in his community as

opposed to a farmer or a laborer, and he saw education as a way to move from a physically-

demanding job performed outside to one that required more thinking and negotiating

performed inside a building.

For students living in the camps, the value of education to their present lives was

important. Being a student afforded them respect and legitimacy in the community without

many responsibilities outside of school work. The potential value that education could bring to

their futures was also important for students. To continue being a student is equivalent to not

yet giving up hope for a better life. This focus on the future benefits of education appears to

more closely mirror the ideas of education in development settings than those of education in

emergency settings; however, the fact that the PSES schools are located inside refugee camps

means that the “bright future” narrative that students often presented relied less on their

future earning potential, and more on skills they would bring to bear to help their families or

communities (e.g., students planning to be a volunteer teacher and community leader

(fieldnotes, March 3-5, 12-16, & 20, 2014).

Teachers. Teachers in general understood PSES to have two overarching purposes: to

facilitate a student’s acceptance to a further study program, often an English language

immersion program, or to work for the community in a development capacity. As noted in

Chapter 4, educated individuals are often more influential in community decisions. Thus,

educating individuals means educating the next generation of leaders. Teachers’ conceptions of

a well-educated person neatly braided together Karen norms of leadership with material norms

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of technical development skills. One teacher indicated about their students “I hope they will go

for further study. I want them to be helpful persons in their communities”, which this teacher

defined as being a teacher or community worker and having a “good attitude” (staff meeting,

March 11, 2014). This teacher defined “helpful to the community” as the idea that education

enabled individuals to participate and take leadership roles in the community was repeated by

teachers in each of the six camps I visited.

Regardless of where the students came from, either the camp or inside Burma, the

teachers indicated that education enabled students to be more helpful for their communities

than they had been previously. Additionally, education allowed community members to better-

understand directions from leaders, an important skill needed for maintaining peace within and

between ethnic groups. “If you are not--if everyone is not educated, you cannot organize them

very well. They cannot understand you-what you want to do, what you want to be because we

are not the same knowledge. . . You need [education] for security and for peaceful living

together and also so they will know about each other’s rights” (interview, July 20, 2012).

Not surprisingly, a number of teachers mentioned the importance of education to

facilitate communication between foreigners and community members as another highly-

valued skill. “Students will need it [English language education] to communicate with foreigners

either in a job with an organization or to help the community--they can interpret for the

community” (staff meeting, April 2, 2014). Teachers indicated that education was also generally

useful for employment in fields beneficial to the community. “It [education] gives them skills

like management and budgeting, which are important for organizations. Maths can help

someone get a job” (staff meeting, March 4, 2014). “Find a job. Help their family. I encourage

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everyone to go on to further studies. Further studies can be either academic or professional,

like a doctor” (staff meeting, March 26, 2014).

When asked specifically what skills, attitudes, and knowledge the teachers thought were

necessary for meeting the vision statements of KRCEE and PSES, they listed the following

without prompting: creativity, talk freely (confidence), good behavior, knowing good from bad.

After writing down the initial list of skills, I asked questions that elicited the following skills:

management, language skills to communicate, participation, responsibility, history/social

studies, and diplomacy (fieldnotes, March 3, 11, 17, 26, 29, April 2, 2014).

The skills, knowledge, and attitudes listed by the teachers without prompting reflected

those related to decision-making and problem solving, including in their own communities and

in engagement with other groups. In particular, confidence and creativity were highlighted by

the teachers and administrators. In turn, the purposes of PSES reflect taking on a leadership

role in the community, which requires confidence to develop and use strategies for engaging

with decision-making processes commonly found inside Burma.

Overall, students and teachers seem to perceive post-secondary education as a way to

connect their communities to the outside world. None of the students I spoke to questioned

who was a member of the Karen community, however two teachers brought up this point. The

students seemed to take for granted that the members of the Karen community and “Karen

culture” are known (i.e., there is no need to define them as everyone “knows” the definitions

already), and that connecting the communities with the international community was a step

toward modernity and the national self-realization people sought.

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Education, Culture, and ID ideology

Scholars including Eisenstadt (2000), Sachsenmaier (2009), and Escobar (2008) discuss

the concept of multiple modernities by examining the diverse institutional settings and

sociopolitical norms through which structural aspects of modernity are interpreted. Chatterjee

(1993) theorized that the social and institutional practices that form the foundation of a

national culture are composed of the material (here called ID ideology) and the spiritual

domains (camp-based Karen ideology). ID ideology, with its focus on and tacit assent to the

primacy of science, technology, and state-craft is the ideology most ID experts have in common.

Camp-based Karen ideology represents traditions and identity; it is sovereign and resists all

forms of interference. Chatterjee’s binary model is useful in interpreting the structure and

policies of the education system adopted by the Karen planners. Planning processes were

shaped by the strongly-held belief that primary education must be taught in Karen language to

ensure that the students are able to carry on the Karen culture. Karen culture could not, in their

view, be learned via the English language; without Karen language, there can be no Karen

culture. Advanced science in secondary school, on the other hand, can and should be taught in

English because the English language is a tool better shaped to meet the technical needs of

scientific skill-building.

Anticolonial nationalism blends the ID and the camp-based Karen ideologies in new

ways that point toward a Karen modernity that is distinctly different from that promoted by ID

ideology, yet that is deliberately constructed to be recognized by and connect with countries

that subscribe to the form of modernity promoted by the ID community.

International recognition of the Karen. The framework of multiple modernities is useful

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in examining how the Karen who were involved with the development of the camp-based

system assembled a vision for its relationship to the Karen nation. This vision drew on the camp

leaders’ access to foreign experts and the Karen refugee camp-based community to (re)shape

Karen education to both meet the need to reproduce camp-based Karen ideology (through

primary education), and to create a population of post-primary graduates able to interface with

the international community more effectively than the Burmese,32 in order to promulgate

international recognition of the Karen nation and its claims for legitimacy. These interactions

allowed the Karen to promote Karen-ness as being completely separate from the Burmese, and

worthy of international recognition. By the mid-2000s, there remained few calls for an

independent Karen nation-state; the vision had shifted from an independent political state to

the creation of on an autonomous territory within the Burmese state borders. In this vision, the

autonomous territory would be able to interface directly with the international community,

bypassing the Burmese government altogether.

Education in the camps was built in collaboration with ID professionals who worked in

the camps. These ID professionals drew on the international community’s negative perception

of the Burmese junta and on international best practices to design the education system. The

daily interactions with INGO actors for over 20 years resulted in the KREG administrators being

comfortable with international ID professionals and developing relationships with the ID actors

working in the camps.

The personal relationships between some of the INGO workers and the camp residents

32 Burmese citizens in general, including the politicians, often have little or no training in using English language to communicate (fieldnotes, May 2013).

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along with the camp residents limited understanding of the organizational structure (i.e.,

decision making structure) of the INGOs. The assumption that the KREG and the INGOs had a

strong and lasting relationship likely formed the basis for the belief that the Karen territory

could be an autonomous and be considered a legitimate member of the international

community. This vision of the Karen nation continues to challenge the internationally-

recognized state system and the international concept of citizenship.

The following section examines the intersection of ID ideology and the desire for

international recognition with camp-based Karen ideology and the desire for cultural self-

determination. It uses language as a lens through which to the commonalities and differences

between junior college students who were raised in the camps and those raised in Karen state

by examining not only the language proficiencies but also the meanings attached to Thai,

English, and Burmese languages (Karen language having been discussed in Chapters 4).

Languages used (and not used) in the junior colleges

The majority of students attending the PSES junior colleges are camp residents, many of

whom attended primary and secondary school in the camps. These individuals are likely to be

monolingual Karen speakers or multilingual Karen-other ethnic language(s) (e.g., Pa-O, Shan)

speakers. They often consider Burmese to be the language of the oppressor, and KREG schools

have not taught it or used it since their inception in 1994. As a result, there has been a dramatic

reduction in the number of camp residents who speak and understand Burmese. Learning and

using exclusively Karen language is part of the camp-based Karen anticolonial nationalism

because it serves as a vehicle for passing on Karen culture and ethnic identity. For many camp

residents, learning and speaking Burmese represents a direct threat to camp-based Karen

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ideology.

The changing meaning of Burmese language. In contrast, it is becoming increasingly

common for Burma-based Karen to view Burmese language as a skill that is necessary to live

and work in Burma. Individuals who lived in Burma prior to the camps, such as the Burma-based

junior college students, are likely to be bilingual Karen-Burmese speakers. However, in the

camps, only a small percentage of teachers and students view Burmese as necessary. These

teachers and students discussed the reality of being repatriated and needing to survive inside

Burma, whereas the vast majority of people I talked to refused to discuss this option. Every

junior college offers Burmese language as an elective, however none have ever taught it due to

lack of enrollment. English still remains the language associated with education and with

cultural survival. This, too, demonstrates the widening gap between the Burma-based and the

camp-based Karen.

Language as a tool rather than an identity. In contrast to Burmese and Karen

languages, which are strong markers of identity, languages such as Thai and English are

understood as tools to access ID ideology such as economics and technology and therefore

political power. While learning languages such as these is considered admirable, the ability to

speak, read, listen, and write them says very little about one’s status as a person, whereas the

ability to communicate in Karen is vital to one’s identity and the ability (or willingness to admit

the ability) to communicate in Burmese may be perceived as a negative characteristic

(fieldnotes, June 12, 2012).

The questionable utility of Thai language in the camps. Thai language is occasionally

taught in the camps as a result of Thailand’s First National Human Rights Plan (2005-2009). In

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2007, the RTG provided funds for Thai people to enter the camps and teach Thai language for

several hours each day. The program faltered due to difficulties in recruiting Thai individuals to

teach in the camps and due to lack of refugee attendance. However, offering access to Thai

language, regardless of whether the offer was accepted or the program was successful, was a

strategic move for the RTG, which, at the time, was seeking to join the UN Human Rights

Council. It seems evident from this performance that most refugees did not come to perceive

Thai language as a particularly useful tool.

The multiple meanings and uses of English language. Like Burmese, speaking, listening,

reading, and writing English language has complex and multi-dimensional meanings in the

camps. In addition to the purposes expressed by the students and teachers above, having a

certain number of camp-based Karen who are able to communicate in English helps the KRC

achieve its goal of being recognized as a legitimate member of the international community.

Legitimacy can only be gained via recognition from the international community; it cannot be

won from within. The international community is composed of sovereign political states, which,

as a matter of self-preservation, only recognize other political states. Recognition of a nation

that straddles two states threatens all members of the international community by establishing

a precedent that questions sovereignty as it is currently understood. Speaking English to

represent the Karen autonomous region is one way of advocating for international recognition,

and thus is a material dimension of nationalism.

Speaking English is also understood as a method of resisting cultural domination by the

Burmese and as a strategy for cultural self-determination. Burmanization policies suppressed

Karen culture and language, and required that all education take place in Burmese language

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only. As a result, when the Karen arrived in Thailand, they spoke their mother tongue

exclusively and made it the language of instruction in the schools. Using English language

enabled the Karen to work with western NGOs to set up their own education system. In this

environment, English became a means of resisting colonization by the Burmese. Knowing

English gave the Karen access to ideas and thoughts that were not expressed or held by the

Burmese. Given that Burma had been a closed country for many years, there were limited ideas

and thoughts about the global community expressed. Knowing English also enabled the camp-

based Karen to better determine where and how their nationalist and socio-cultural norms fit in

the larger global community and to direct their evolution in ways that would permit

engagement with the global community without being subsumed by the global community. This

was (and continues to be) particularly important as the Karen attempt to gain recognition as an

“autonomous region” from the global community.

Despite—or because of—English language being viewed as opening a door to

modernity, it is not integrated into the junior college students’ cultural identities. It is

understood as a valuable tool for accessing knowledge and attitudes associated with ID

ideology. Fluency in English is indicative of being an educated person, and this influences

people’s power and authority, both in terms of decisions affecting the community and by way

of acting as an interpreter between foreigners and the community, an inherently political

position. Students that succeed in becoming fluent in English language have an opportunity to

engage with the international community as Karen people. Students who graduate from a PSES

school without being fluent in English still have a credential from a quintessentially Karen

education system that will allow them to help their community. Attending a Karen institution to

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gain knowledge useful in helping the community to modernize is symbolic of being a true Karen

person. Successful completion of a PSES education seems to hinge on the ability to work with

other Karen people to foster the camp-based Karen ideology. The ability to also foster ID

ideology is viewed as “extra” but it is not a requirement for individual success.

Language policies and practices in the junior colleges. All camp administrators

indicated that the official campus policy required students and teachers to speak exclusively

English, however none of the schools enforced this policy. Virtually all socialization was done in

Karen and classes were conducted in a mixture of Karen and English. Most classes I visited were

taught in a mix of Karen and English, where the only English was either reading aloud from the

textbooks or stock activity transition phrases such as “turn to page 20” and “get into groups”

(fieldnotes, March 3-31, 2014).

I asked a number of teachers what language they used in the classroom. Karen language

for explanations and English language for reading and textbook exercises were by far the most

common responses. A few teachers noted the importance of Burmese language during one-on-

one conversations, never in focus groups or in a public venue (e.g., staff meeting). For example,

when I asked a teacher who he thought would live in a Karen community inside Burma, the

teacher replied, “Many ethnics will live in Karen communities. Community worker must work

for everyone there. That make Burmese language very important for us”. This teacher, who was

elderly, male, and well-respected in the community, was the only teacher I met who was willing

to acknowledge that the Karen inside Burma may be different from the Karen inside the camps.

He was excited to tell me about his thoughts during our one-on-one conversation; however, he

excused himself from the staff meeting during which the same questions were addressed to the

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entire staff (fieldnotes, March 3-4, 2014).

The language policies and practices at the junior colleges are somewhat asynchronous.

The policies state that Karen and English are to both be used as the language of instruction.

Each school indicated they have at least one English-only day per week on campus. In practice,

Karen language is the dominant language, with English being a distant second language. The

English only days did not seem to exist in practice. All materials are in English language as are

some class instructions; however, the vast majority of meaningful interactions take place in

Karen language. Classes at the junior colleges are taught in a mixture of Karen and English

because while virtually all students are fluent in Karen, their levels of English fluency vary

greatly, and theoretically, understanding the content being taught in class is more important

than learning English, which, theoretically, can be learned during English class (fieldnotes,

March-April, 2014).

International organizations’ support of English acquisition. International organizations

support English learning in the camps for several reasons. To work effectively in camps,

international organizations need interpreters who are fluent in English and Karen. It is in their

best interest to support English language instruction, as this raises the students’ familiarity,

comfort, and aptitude for English. Additionally, until 2010, resettlement to a third country was

considered the only viable option for refugees along the Thailand-Burma border. As English is

an international language, all refugees would benefit from learning it, even if they were

resettled to Finland or other countries whose first language was not English.

In addition to advantages gained from camp residents learning English, international

organizations often understand English language to be “neutral”. Supporting curricula

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development and use in Burmese, Karen, or Thai languages indicates political support for one

group over the others. In order to remain politically neutral, it is in the international

organizations’ best interests to support curricula in English to avoid the perception of working

against any one group. If groups then translate these materials, that is a decision made by the

groups, though particularly for lower levels of schooling, such translational work is supported

by international organizations in the name of “best practices”.

The language(s) of instruction have a profound effect on nation building. Using

exclusively Karen language for lower primary education re-enforces the idea that the Karen

community speaks Karen language. The addition of English and the use of learning materials

written in English in later grades helps to foster the idea that the Karen community is a part of

the global community. The absence of Burmese language in primary standards and its elective

nature in the PSES schools, by contrast, fosters the idea that the Karen community is not part of

the Burmese community. With a firm grounding in the spiritual domain of Karen nationalism,

English can be used to access knowledge and attitudes valued by ID ideology so that it can be

processed in a way that is appropriate for the Karen culture. Without such a grounding, a

person is not truly Karen.

Conclusion

As described in Chapters 4 and 5, the purposes of primary and post-primary schooling

are thus viewed quite differently, and they are viewed particularly different in relation to their

role in nation-building. Primary schooling would build the Karen citizen. Post-primary schooling

would prepare a subset of Karen nationals to engage with and petition the international

community directly, to assure that their national autonomy was protected over the coming

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generations. The vision of how to protect the nation shifted over the decades (from an

autonomous state to an autonomous region), but the goal of not being dependent on or

subservient to the Burmese state remained stable. These different nation-building purposes of

schooling are visible in the policies, institutions, and partnerships formed around each level of

schooling.

The goal of this chapter was to provide data and deeper analysis to support the

argument that PSES cultivates ID ideology using the foundation of camp-based Karen ideology

in order to create a Karen nation that can more fully control how it interacts with the

international community and modernizes. The tensions and the synergies between camp-based

Karen and ID ideologies and how these relate to modernization are most evident in the higher

education system, which is intended to braid these two together in new ways that transform

(but not too much) individual students’ capacities to serve as socio-cultural and political

translators for the Karen.

This chapter therefore examined the origins of the PSES, the structures of the schools,

and how students and teachers view the PSES education, and the meanings of the languages

used in the junior colleges. These topics provide the reader with a sense of what the schools

look and feel like, and how teachers and students move in those spaces throughout the day.

The junior colleges aim to bolster and build on camp-based Karen ideology that most students

have honed during primary and secondary education. Using this as the foundation, the junior

colleges aim to provide more understanding of ID ideology by providing courses in subjects

recognized by ID ideology (e.g., science, math), by creating living situations that model ID social

ideology, and by highlighting English language learning.

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The PSES system strives to overlay elements of ID ideology onto a foundation of camp-

based Karen cultural identity to encourage the development of an anticolonial nationalism and

to self-determine the evolutionary path of the Karen culture. In the junior colleges, camp-based

Karen nationalism is largely defined and refined by the teachers and administrators. Using

Karen language, they engage with the students about the interpretation of the topics such as

science and math, and these are addressed largely in terms of their utility for the Karen nation.

Through such practices, it appears that the higher education system generally does not need to

be very concerned about the extent to which the experience of higher education itself

transforms students to the point where they might no longer be viewed as being able to

represent (or translate) Karen nationalism to the international community. While the colonizing

effects of higher education on minoritized members—and therefore, the consequences of

higher education on the ability of educated members to represent “their” groups has been a

topic of debate for centuries,33 PSES appears to prioritize camp-based Karen ideology and draw

on anticolonial educational approaches (e.g., presenting math and English as tools to be used in

engaging ID actors and ideologies and in serving one’s own community) in ways that leave few

Karen members or leaders questioning the capacity and willingness of PSES-educated students

to play a key role in negotiating evolving relations with the international community as trusted

members of the Karen community.

Chapter 6 builds on Chapter 5 by delving into the implementation of the PSES education

policies, which can be understood through a neo-institutionalist lens. Analysis of the decision-

33 See, e.g., Morton, forthcoming, for an overview of common approaches to examining this topic in current-day US universities.

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making processes and the implementation procedures draws on political economy theories to

interpret the implementation of the policies that reflect a neo-institutionalist standpoint. The

various decision-making procedures (e.g., participatory methods) used by different

stakeholders are used as a lens through which to examine the braiding of ID ideology and camp-

based Karen ideology into the PSES curricula in order to foster Karen leaders who are capable of

effectively interacting with experts from the international community. Examples of these

interactions, which were brought about by the political changes discussed in Chapter 7, are

provided in Chapter 8.

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CHAPTER 6: POST SECONDARY EDUCATION SYSTEM CURRICULA DEVELOPMENT AND USE

Chapter 5 explored the use of Karen language as one way to retain Karen culture and

foster camp-based Karen ideology through which students could filter and critically interpret

the social structures and institutions associated with ID approaches. Using participation and

decision-making as a lens, Chapter 6 expands this argument by examining the creation and

adoption of teaching and learning materials used in PSES schools. These teaching and learning

materials are students’ single largest exposure to ID ideology during their time at PSES, and as

such, they represent the mechanism through which students gain access to official ID

knowledge. The development and use of these materials point to the ways in which Karen

educational leaders attempt to assure that the materials can be and are interpreted through a

Karen nation-building lens. In this sense, the adoption of ID materials occurred not to further

the localization or utilization of international best practices, but as a critical tool to provide PSES

students with the knowledge and skills they would need to speak to and be recognized by ID

actors then the Karen made claims of nationhood.

Chapters 5 and 6 draw attention to the shifting goals of the camp-based Karen

government and the KREG as the period of encampment lengthens and the camp-based

education system continues to improve the quality of education available to camp residents.

Chapters 2, 3, and 4 highlighted actions taken by the Karen to ensure the immediate survival of

the Karen people: the formation of the camps and the initiation of education services in the

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camps. Chapters 5 and 6 highlight education policies and actions that pivot away from survival

and point toward the self-determination and flourishing of camp-based Karen ideology. The

goal of self-determination is challenged in Chapters 7 and 8, as political changes take place,

resulting in a shift of the international community’s perspective on the Karen from their

unofficial status as victims of oppression who need to be supported to their status as “citizens”

of Burma who need to return.

This chapter begins by comparing and contrasting the decision-making processes used

by the PSES board of directors and the KREG administration. These decision-making processes

and subsequent priorities provide insight into the how materials used in the junior colleges are

adopted, which is the topic of the next section. The following section examines how and by

whom the materials are created, and how PSES teachers use these materials in their classrooms

to braid camp-based Karen ideology with ID ideology for the purpose of effectively

communicating with the international community while retaining a strong sense of Karen-ness.

These sections combine to provide evidence in support of the argument that different

participatory methods resulted in different types of curricula.

Administrative Structure of the PSES

The founders of PSES formed the first board of directors, which administers the

academics of the junior colleges, including the adoption of curricula; creates and modifies

administrative policies, such as admission and graduation requirements; and provides direction

for the colleges’ foci, priorities, and potential outside partnerships. Over time, the membership

of the PSES board of directors has changed, but the composition remains the same: ethnic

Karen men, all of whom have bachelor’s degrees and some of whom hold advanced degrees

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from universities outside of Burma. The past and present members of the board of directors all

hold full-time, professional positions along the Thailand-Burma border and volunteer to serve

on the board. Most board members are not professionally active in the education sector; it is

their personal experience as university students that qualifies them to sit on the board of the

camp-based junior colleges. By accepting the invitation to serve, they commit to volunteering

to attend board meetings, usually scheduled once or twice annually, and the president is

expected to address as many junior college graduation ceremonies as possible each year

(fieldnotes, March 31-April 3, 2014; interview, April 2, 2014).

The PSES board of directors recognized the need to have a managerial body administer

the schools, and it made sense to partner with the KREG, which was managing the K-10 camp-

based schools. Originally, KREG provided only managerial administration of the junior colleges.

However, due to the board members’ busy schedules and the academic and managerial

responsibilities of the schools becoming enmeshed (e.g., the need for updated textbooks),

KREG began taking on more responsibility for the academics and the daily logistics of the junior

colleges. This also was a result of the changing political climate along the border, which

influenced donor agendas and required more frequent reporting and greater compliance with

grant conditions—issues with which the internationally-funded KREG had much more

experience. With permission from the PSES board of directors, KREG also began mentoring and

eventually certifying existing schools of higher education (standards 10-12) located inside Karen

state as lower level junior colleges. As of May 2014, there were officially six junior colleges in

the camps, one junior college in Karen state, and one school in Karen state that received

technical assistance from KREG to help it eventually become a junior college (fieldnotes, Feb. 27

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and May 15, 2014; KREG, 2014; interview, Feb. 25, 2015).

Dividing the responsibilities of day-to-day management and longer-term vision between

KREG and the PSES board of directors creates an interesting dynamic. The PSES board members

are considered experts due to their university degrees and their experiences in institutions of

higher education. The board is a voluntary one and has no budget. As a result, board members

are not in a position to hire curriculum designers or teacher trainers, and they rely on the local

experts employed by KREG, many of whom have not attended university, to secure funding and

partners for these activities. KREG understands its position as that of a manager and thus

makes decisions based on immediate practicalities, such as funding needs and nonoffensive (vs.

desirable) grant conditions, rather than consciously working toward a vision for higher

education in the camps. PSES board members understand the need for financial support but

continue to push for an education system that more truly reflects their values and beliefs.

While both the KREG and the PSES board use participatory methods to reach decisions,

the methods vary in the degree and nature of participation. The variation in decision-making

processes affects which questions the administrative bodies address in addition to the process

outcomes. The following sections examine the decision-making processes used by the KREG and

the PSES board of directors.

Decision-making processes used by KREG. Reflecting its origins and the need to work

effectively with INGOs, KREG uses a form of democratic decision making characterized by a high

degree of participation that refers major academic decisions to camp teachers and

administrators. These decisions include questions such as changing a curriculum, the sections of

a module students will be tested on, and recommended pedagogy and teacher training. Two-

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way communication is also encouraged, providing all participants with an opportunity to give

and receive information.

To make a change to the PSES academic requirements in this way requires “consensus,”

which seems to mean no dissenting votes from the PSES teachers and administrators involved.

There is, however, little support for the decision making process provided by either the PSES

board or KREG. As a result, change takes time and often simply does not happen. I suspect

there are multiple reasons for this, but perhaps one of the more salient is that the PSES board

of directors (as opposed to the KREG staff) is technically in charge of the curricula. If KREG staff

make a recommendation, they need to justify it to the board (interview, Feb. 25, 2014;

fieldnotes, March 17 and April 7, 2014; staff meeting, April 23, 2014). This means that the

democratic decision making process used by KREG is uneven in its implementation and effects.

KREG’s decision-making process favors every voice equally but also gave each person

the power of the veto. This provided a minority vote protection that was not present in EDA’s

approach (see Chapter 4), thus allowing for the expression of differing opinions within the

population of Karen teachers. Members were encouraged to think for themselves and make

their own decisions; however, it was not uncommon for individuals to vote without having a full

grasp of the issues. It was also fairly common for community members (in all democracies, not

only the camps) to vote for the option that was the most personally beneficial rather than what

was best for the community. Moreover, as each person had the equivalent of a veto, it was

difficult to initiate change. In this case, power lies with the individual; however, the

responsibility for the outcome (or lack thereof) lies with KREG. If and when consensus on a

matter could be reached, KREG used consensus as evidence to persuade the PSES board of

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directors to adopt a particular policy. More often, however, the PSES board only receives

information from KREG, and then hands down policies in return.

The decision-making processes used by the PSES board of directors. PSES board of

director’s decision-making process stands in contrast in many ways to the process used first by

EDA and then by KREG to make decisions about the standards pre-K to 10. The PSES board of

directors use a decision-making process based on consultation, a model similar to decision-

making processes that the previous iteration of PSES used inside Burma (see Chapter 1). During

their annual or bi-annual meetings, the board of directors may consult with a number of invited

stakeholders. The board members discuss the information presented by the stakeholders and

reach agreement amongst themselves. KREG then is informed of these decisions and in turn

informs the schools. All PSES schools are required to adhere to the decision (i.e., interpret the

policies put in place).

The participatory methods favored by the different actors are realizations of the social

principles, such as authority and power structure, that underlie them. Participatory methods

used by the PSES board of directors are characterized by a limited degree of participation;

participation often is restricted to board members and invited guests. The nature of

participation allows for the presence of one-way communications between the directors and

invited representatives. The majority of the learning is experienced by the board members as

they receive information about the PSES.

The board members are not responsible to any voting members, yet their perceptions of

the Karen community and its needs are codified into the education system. Authority and

power lie with the board members, as does the responsibility for administrative and academic

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decisions and their outcomes. KREG staff and students are not encouraged to question the

board’s decisions.

Decision making in this manner is relatively efficient in comparison to the consensus

model used by KREG, but it is also a much more centralized and non-iterative process. This

consultation approach also limits decisions in a second way. There are no KREG or donor

representatives on the PSES board, and this lack of representation limits the board members’

understanding of the ideological questions facing the schools. An example of an ideological

question is “Who is part of the Karen community?”, the answer to which influences KREG’s

interpretation of PSES teacher and student recruitment policies. For example, should KREG

recruit teachers and students in Karen sections of the camp only or should it attempt to

increase the number of non-Karen students, thus reflecting the true composition of the camps

and of Karen state? The PSES schools I visited all recruit only in the Karen sections of the camps,

although one-on-one discussions with some individual teachers and students indicated concern

about this practice. These few teachers and students indicated that a Karen-only environment

was not a realistic expectation for any durable solution. These were the few individuals who

willingly discussed repatriation and their concerns about preparing for what the conditions

inside might be like. Another example of an ideological question that has not been addressed is:

“What role can or should the junior colleges play inside Karen state?”. The answer would

provide direction to KREG as it works with potential new partner schools in Burma. Donors and

expatriates have discussed this at length, envisioning the PSES schools as gateways to Burmese

universities or perhaps as institutes to train civil servants for the Burmese or KNU government.

As repatriation becomes more likely, questions such as these will be answered, either

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thoughtfully and with intent or simply by implementing educational programs daily, responding

to donor requests, and allowing the status quo to slowly drift. Only the PSES board of directors

is in positioned to open these questions up for debate, yet their understanding of what these

questions might be or of how to create a more participatory approach to engaging them is

limited by the narrow profile of the board members. Additionally, ideological questions such as

these are more likely to be contested and require debate than some of the logistical and

academic questions addressed by the board. In addition to requiring more time, debates such

as these could lead to discussions that are uncomfortable and end in conflicting opinions, the

demonstration of which often goes against social norms.

These decisions are particularly important given the nation-building goals for education

set by the PSES board of directors and the KREG. Having a nation based on an ethnic

community necessitates defining boundaries to determine who is a member of the community

and who is not. Both the PSES board of directors and the KREG reference the Karen community

in their vision statements, yet neither was willing to define what this means. Teachers and

administrators also struggled to define the Karen community and were unsure if it included

everyone living in a specific area or if it encompassed all Karen people, regardless of location

(staff meetings, March 13, 18, 26, 27, and April 2, 2014).

Interestingly, at the primary and secondary levels, decisions surrounding the political

aims of education are highlighted with conversations about culture and language taking on a

primary role in the development of the curricula. However, at the post-secondary level, where

the political aims of education in terms of nation-building, state-building, and global citizenship

(i.e., individualism) are competing, there are few discussions and debates, and the PSES board

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of directors has yet to address these competing interests. Refusal to address these conflicts

results in individual schools making their own determinations regarding who is Karen and what

a Karen modernity might look like. As noted above, there is a tendency toward isolationism and

homogeneity in the schools, which is tacitly condoned by the board of directors by virtue of not

discussing alternatives. This homogeneity and “Karenification” of the schools was remarked on

by several expatriates who have lived and worked along the border for at least three years

(fieldnotes, Feb. 20 & March 3, 2014).

The effects of decision-making processes. The PSES board of directors is composed of

men who are highly-respected by the local Karen community for their academic achievements

and their commitment to the Karen culture. They are examples of Karen individuals who

embody a modernity that combines ID ideology and Karen culture. The board uses more

traditional decision-making processes, including consultation with a limited number of

participants, a process similar to that used in the camp sections (Chapter 2; fieldnotes, July 9,

2014). To make decisions, the board members reflect on the mission of the PSES, their own

academic and employment experiences, and the information presented.

Both EDA and KREG used variations of democratic decision making. The one-vote per

person, majority rule method used by EDA was grounded in the international community’s

notion of participatory (as opposed to representative) democracy. Given the relatively small

number of individuals who regularly attended the EDA-sponsored meetings to design the camp-

based education system, a participatory democracy was preferable to creating systems

necessary for a representative democracy. However, this majority rule method failed to

recognize the heterogeneity within the group and failed to protect minority voices.

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KREG combines a consensus model of decision making (as opposed to majority rule) with

directives from its board of directors. The consensus method protects minority voices and

acknowledges heterogeneity within the population; however, as indicated by multiple teachers

and curricula developers, this method makes initiating change difficult.

The decision making processes used by the various groups do not all address ideological

questions in the same manner or with the same finesse. The process favored by KREG makes

ideological questions difficult if not impossible to address, as it is unlikely that all members will

share an identical ideological stance regarding the purpose of education. The PSES board of

director’s process is also limited in its effectiveness for addressing ideological questions, not by

the process itself, which could be effective, but in the social norms that surround it (e.g., refrain

from confrontation). EDA’s decision making process can produce a decision, however keeping in

mind the public nature of the vote and the social norm of refraining from conflict, it is likely

that the result will be somewhat skewed by the social dynamics of the group.

Teaching and Learning Materials in the PSES Schools

In the early 2000’s, the majority of aid resources were spent on primary education,

meaning that little attention and few international resources from the bilateral and multilateral

stakeholders went to post-secondary education (Psacharopoulos, 1994; Heyneman, 2003).

While post-10 schools existed in the camps, they were underfunded and overlooked by most of

the international actors (e.g., international education-sector NGOs and their funders) along the

border. These schools had no formal curricula and the community leaders simply requested any

community member with a post-10 education to donate time as a teacher. Materials were

donated by refugees who had brought books with them when they left Burma or donations

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from foreigners who often donated outdated textbooks from countries that sponsor ID

(interview, Feb. 25, 2014).

Originally, the board of directors hoped to produce their own English-language syllabi,

textbooks, and curricula for all classes, however their access to the human and financial capital

necessary to develop content was severely limited. In order to begin classes as quickly as

possible, the board decided to work with a local organization that created content for adult

education classes and determine which modules were appropriate for the junior colleges. The

individuals who wrote and edited the modules had a range of qualifications, but the one

commonality they had is that they were all from countries that sponsored ID in the camps. The

PSES board members were acutely aware of this; however, the choice between using ID-

produced modules and no modules at all led them to make the decision to move forward with

their plan, despite the less-than-ideal instructional materials.

There was only one organization along the border that produced academic content for

adult learners, the Education Border Project (EBP). The funder that supported EBP was a private

foundation whose missions included the promotion of democracy and local engagement with

politics throughout the world. Through EBP, these funders were introduced to the PSES and a

partnership was formed that provided funds and materials to the PSES schools through grants

made to KREG. KREG in turn agreed to subcontract with EBP to provide teacher trainings and to

purchase curricular materials. As a result, EBP (and its funder) has had a large influence on the

PSES schools through its role in developing the curricula used in most PSES classes. The next

section examines EBP’s origins and their processes of developing the teaching and learning

materials that are used in the PSES schools.

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The Education Border Project. In 2001, Pyitpyit Education Collaborative received a grant

from a large private foundation. This grant resulted in the founding of the EBP as an

organization under the Pyitpyit umbrella. EBP’s mission was to work with stakeholders (e.g.

KREG and undocumented migrant communities) to create curricula, materials, and teacher

training for a wide variety of subjects at the post-10/adult education level. The grant specifically

required EBP to create curricula for three post-10 schools, two of which served mostly Karen

students and one of which served mostly Kayah students. Karen dominance along the border is

relatively well known (see e.g., Zeus, 2009), and the private funder, whose mission was to

enhance political participation, was wary of a single group dominating others. As a result, the

private funder specifically required the inclusion of schools that served a diversity of ethnicities,

ostensibly to provide a check and balance to the Karen influence. This is reflective of a general

trend along the border for private funders and smaller NGOs to address ethnic diversity in and

among the camps, whereas larger (often bi- or multi-lateral) funders and the NGOs that

received funding from them, seldom make this distinction (interview, Feb. 25, 2014).

The EBP curricula took the shape of modules—booklets designed to be used as the

curricula, syllabi, and textbooks for short courses (i.e., courses that lasted between one and six

weeks and that did not carry academic credit) offered to adult learners. The modules addressed

topics including human rights, democracy, and English language learning, using examples drawn

from the experiences of displaced people from Burma. As the only provider of curricula based

on the migrant/refugee contexts along the border, EBP grew quickly, and by 2010 they were

working with over forty post-10, adult education, and training programs along the border. In

addition to providing curricula to these schools, they offered teacher training that focused on

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learner-centered pedagogies in general and on subject-specific strategies for implementing

learner-centered pedagogies (interview, Feb. 25, 2014).

EBP is funded exclusively by private foundations; while the original granting agency is no

longer a funder, other private foundations have filled the funding gaps. This affords them more

latitude in terms of content produced, staff qualifications, and production processes than does

bilateral funding. This latitude results from private funders not being subject to the same rules

and restrictions that are placed on bilateral funders.

EBP employees and volunteers are vocal in their commitment to what could be

described as ID causes, including issues such as gender equality, environmental preservation,

and democracy. EBP staff and volunteers understand education to be transformative, enabling

the individual to make better decisions and to be an effective member of the community. As

such, EBP understands the only goal for its curricula to be providing access to knowledge and

skills rather than facilitating the receipt of a credential. Part of EBP’s mission is to make its

materials available to anyone who wants them, meaning that migrant learning centers and

camp-based schools can access the modules without charge. Anyone with the means to do so

(e.g., international volunteer teachers) is asked to pay a nominal price to offset the printing

costs of the materials (EBP, 2011; interview, Aug. 5, 2012; fieldnotes, March 3-5, 2014).

Global social justice and human rights frameworks play a central role and permeate the

organization, as well as its materials. For example, the organization employs an equal pay for

equal work model, meaning that locals and expats receive the same salaries for the equivalent

work. This is unusual, as NGOs often argue that expatriates have knowledge/skills that are not

available in country and that it is costlier for expats to maintain houses or apartments in both

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their home countries and the country in which they are working; therefore, they need a higher

salary than locals. EBP makes every effort to hire displaced people from Burma, including

former political prisoners; however, EBP, like other organizations along the border, is managed

by expatriates who interface with the funders and the CCSDPT.

EBP employees form a close-knit group of people who work, recreate, and often live

together. In 2011, the staff included White expatriates from the North America, Western

Europe, and the South Pacific (i.e., New Zealand and Australia) and local Karen, Thai, and Shan

(an ethnic minority) staff. The educational credentials of the full-time expatriates ranged from

high school leavers to Ph.D. degrees. Most had taught English as a second language in an Asian

context prior to working with EBP, and multiple staff and volunteers had credentials in teaching

English as a foreign language.

There were also numerous volunteers from around the world, with the majority coming

from the regions represented by the staff. The volunteers ranged from sponsored volunteers

(e.g., VSO) to individuals who contacted the organization directly, to the occasional traveler

who was in the border town for an extended period of time. Volunteers had a broader range of

experiences and credentials than did the staff, and they remained with EBP anywhere from less

than one month to one year or more.

The staff and the volunteers took pride in their expertise regarding education along the

border and they were known to chafe at various notions of professionalism that included

following bureaucratic mandates and undue deference to authority. While the credentials,

experience levels, and mother tongues of the staff and volunteers ranged widely, the focus and

belief in the need to improve the lives of Burmese migrants and refugees in Thailand was

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singular, steadfast, and strong.

The EBP office is located in a large Thai-style house in a residential area of Myo Thin. Like many houses, the front door is similar to a garage door, opening an entire side of the house to the garden and driveway. On busy days, the doorway is filled with an assortment of sandals, as foreigners and locals alike follow the Burmese and Thai custom of removing shoes upon entering a house. The immediate impression of the house is one of a cluttered state of industriousness. The ground floor is crammed with boxes and shelves of modules. A picnic table off to one side is used as a desk and meeting spot and one wall is lined with large cubbies that serve as mailboxes for the various post-10 projects in the area. There are two bathrooms, one with a shower, and a covered patio with the kitchen in back. Everyone present at lunch time gathers here for the midday meal.

The second floor is made of large planks of dark wood and has three rooms and

a large balcony. One of the rooms is the library from which anyone who arrives at EBP is welcome to borrow a book. Library patrons include foreign teachers, many of whom are volunteers and have little curricula to work with at their sites, and local migrant learning center teachers and staff. The library also serves as a bedroom for the office assistant, a young Karen woman whose family lives in a nearby camp. During business hours (roughly 8am-5pm) she stores her clothing, sleeping mat, and few modest possessions behind the shelves of books.

A second room has two desks and more shelves of modules and reference

books. This office is used by the EBP director and the editor when they are in town; they split their time between Myo Thin and Chiang Mai, where they are roommates. When they are in Myo Thin, the editor, who often works late into the night, sleeps in the office in which multiple sleeping mats are stored. It is used as a guest room for visitors who are staying in Myo Thin for short periods of time when the editor is away. The third room is slightly larger, has four desks, and is used by volunteers; it is much less cluttered than the other room and serves as an overflow guest room.

The balcony is the heart of the operation; it takes over for anything that is too big or involved for the picnic table below. It spans the width of the house and has a roof that extends beyond the balcony itself, rendering it useful year round, including during the rainy season. There are numerous cushions for sitting on, a low table with candle nubs melted onto it, and an ever-present ashtray. During my stay at the EBP house, consultations about curricula and school administration, after-hours drinks, strategy meetings involving multiple organizations, and numerous smoke breaks took place on the balcony (fieldnotes, June-August, 2011).

The communal living space and the relaxed way in which EBP employees and volunteers

moved through the space echoed the belief in egalitarianism and solidarity of purpose. While

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disagreements occasionally occurred, they generally centered around producing the highest

quality module and teacher trainings possible with limited resources and the dialectic of

resistance and desire for the oversight provided by Pyitpyit Education Collaborative. Staff and

volunteers made adjustments (e.g., cooked more food, made more coffee, took a break from

working to catch up with someone or to answer questions) for the never-ending influx of

teachers, school administrators, and other stakeholders who passed through the space each

day.

The EBP staff and volunteers are committed to their version of social justice in both the

materials produced by EBP and in the processes used to produce them. As such, ensuring that

marginalized stakeholders (e.g., migrant school and refugee teachers) have a voice in creating

the modules is a high priority. Additionally, the EBP staff and volunteers believe that the local

knowledge held by the residents along the border is valid and should provide a starting point

for material creation. For the most part, the EBP staff and volunteers are eager to learn from

the participants and to create authentic relationships with local people, minimizing the

‘foreigner-local’ or ‘expert-participant’ dichotomy as much as possible.

As a result, EBP uses participatory methods when designing or modifying a module. The

process of developing curricula along the border is characterized by local participation guided

by education sector experts. The K-10 curricula were created when experts working with EDA

garnered participation from camp residents to design and produce it. For post-10 and adult

education materials, EBP staff and volunteers elicited participation from both camp residents

and displaced people from Burma living outside of the camps to develop curricula. The

following section examines how the EBP staff understood participation, the role of experts, and

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the outcomes.

Processes Used to Develop Materials

The EBP curricula are designed to “capacitate students for work in community

organizations, and to prepare students for further education opportunities” (EBP, 2014). EBP-

created curricula are not copyrighted, nor do they adhere to copyright laws. This lack of

concern for copyright laws may also reflect EBP’s origins and belief that information should be

available to everyone. The EBP modules are not designed to meet the requirements of any

accreditation body, foreign or local, and completion of courses based on the EBP modules are

not recognized by organizations other than through informal recognition from those along the

border. Accreditation is not a concept with which many displaced people from Burma are

familiar, so official accreditation was not a concern when EBP began its work. With the increase

in post-10 opportunities along the border, the EBP curricula and programs came to be seen as

curricula to use to facilitate students’ admission into a program that could end in a recognized

credential; in this sense, when programs that provided credentials became better-known and –

established, EBP’s curricula came to be understood by students and teachers as remedial

curricula, particularly the English language, math, and science modules (interviews, Feb. 25, 27

and March 1, 2014; fieldnotes, March 11-13 and 18-20, 2014).

Participation and the curricular development process. The EBP website indicates that

EBP “aims to develop and implement community-focused, skills-based curricula that would

instill critical thinking and independent learning skills in learners from disadvantaged groups

from Burma.” According to its website, EBP 1. works with schools and community stakeholders

to design relevant curricula, 2. produces and evaluates context-appropriate teaching materials,

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3. offers workshops in subject-specific pedagogies, and 4. promotes system development via

engagement with migrant education policy.

Figure 4. Graphic from the EBP website depicting the types of participation and

processes that go into developing a module.

A key tenet to accomplishing its goals is the participation of camp residents and other

displaced people from Burma in the design of EBP’s curricula. The staff and volunteers at EBP

define participation as the inclusion of as many voices and opinions as possible in planning and

decision making. Participation of teachers and administrators is a key component of the EBP’s

module design and modification processes. In 2014, they were beginning to add the student

voices and options to determine curricular wants and needs (fieldnotes, Feb. 16, 2014).

EBP strives to update its modules regularly. To do so, they ask teachers for feedback and

suggestions to identify gaps in content. One EBP staffer explained the difficulties in receiving

feedback from teachers when the teachers do not have access to additional materials or

content. Making suggestions for additional content requires individuals to have a background

knowledge of the subject, something many teachers in the camps do not have. Unfortunately,

this background knowledge is not provided in any of the teachers’ guides, either.

When teachers do offer suggestions, EBP incorporates them into the modules. An EBP

staffer told me about revising an English language module with the assistance of several camp-

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based teachers. One of the teachers, who had graduated from a university prior to coming to

the camp, took an active role in making suggestions and eventually took the lead on revising

the module. It is fairly uncommon for a refugee to take a leadership role in an academic project,

and EBP felt a sense of pride in being able to hand over control of the project. The module was

entirely revamped to focus exclusively on conjunctions (e.g., not only. . . but also;

Additionally. . .; First, second, finally. . .). An EBP staffer indicated that the organization was

somewhat trepidatious about publishing this module, as it was to be used by the junior colleges

for an entire semester but did not reflect best ID education practices; however, as this was the

only substantial feedback they received, the module was published and was being used at the

time of this research. The module was used as an exemplar of the representation of refugee

teacher voices and ideas, and of the participatory goals of EBP’s work (fieldnotes, May 26,

2014; see also Chapter 8).

This example demonstrates the priority EBP places on participation and allowing

teacher’s voices to be heard. Their approach reflects much of the scholarly writing on

participation that encourages ID professionals to recognize the validity of indigenous

knowledge and to center the thoughts and ideas of those directly affected by the development

initiatives (Pant, n.d.). It also reflects Condy’s (1998) argument that community participation

alone does not lead directly to increased quality of teaching and learning; the teachers

themselves must have principal roles in attempts to improve teaching and learning. Finally, this

example demonstrates a mindfulness of Chamber’s (1994) caution that “dominant behaviors by

outsiders” have prevented meaningful participation in the past. EBP’s willingness to hand over

control of the module to the teacher represents a real shift in who had control over EBP’s

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materials creation; at the same time, it is not by chance that the teacher who took/accepted

control stood out for her much higher level of professional training—and comfort engaging

with outsiders—than the average teacher.

Indeed, this module is a result of the dominance of one participant over the others, a

phenomenon researched by scholars and practitioners such as Chambers (1994), and Cooke &

Kothari (2001). The teacher who took the leadership role spoke excellent English, had a

university degree, and had been a teacher in Burma prior to coming to the camps. She was

well-placed to be respected by both the EBP staff and the other teachers. As noted above, the

EBP staff placed primary importance on refugee teacher voice; therefore, they did not suggest

alternatives to having this one teacher lead the work on the module. Having seen this teacher

interact with other teachers, however, I believe that it is likely that none of the other teachers

in the group felt comfortable questioning her or offering alternative suggestions.

In contrast to the conjunction module is a life skills module, which ultimately was not

created. The following example demonstrates a form of participation that is often used by ID

professionals. Unlike the example of participation above, this type of participation results in

development projects that conform to ID best practices.

Topics for modules are usually initially proposed by teachers or administrators;

sometimes, EBP staff find a topic they are interested in exploring or a volunteer has expertise in

a particular topic. Initiating work on a specific module begins when a needs analysis regarding

the suggested topic is carried out, in which EBP staff ask target audience members if they feel

there is a need for a particular topic.

Using participatory methods to develop new content ideas with a community that has

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experienced prolonged periods of isolation is challenging. The protracted situation of living in a

camp setting in which mobility is highly constrained precluded residents from experiencing

much of the world outside. It has prevented them from deeply understanding extant

conditions, possibilities, and how Karen culture might fit into local, state, and global

communities. Given the cultural norms and power dynamics between the refugee teachers and

the curriculum creators/funders, asking camp residents questions like “Do you think there is a

need for more life skills education?” or “Do you think there is a need for more technology

education?” quite often result in an affirmative answer due in part to the refugees’ knowledge

that their perspective is limited by living in the camp, and their assumption that more materials

is likely better, as it will provide more information in an environment where learning materials

are scarce.

Additionally, there is no cost to the camp residents for the development of these

modules, so adding another resource to their library is virtually always viewed as a positive

development. For the EBP staff, having “proof” gathered by participatory methods that there is

a need for another module helps them to secure funding for another period of time. It is in both

of their interests to find needs for modules and trainings. As one curriculum developer

explained, the needs assessment is a “very polite exercise” (interview, Aug 5, 2011). Below is an

example of a conversation I had in one of the camps. Before the conversation, I had thought

about Freire’s (1970) argument that people cannot be expected to participate if they lack the

capacity needed to do so. As Jenkins & Nowell (2010) noted, “a commitment to value

empowerment is a commitment to capacity building in practice” (p. 435). I used this as my

rationale for the following conversation, which I initiated upon a request from EBP because

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there was a potential funder for a life skills module.

KJ: Are there any topics you feel the students need to learn but the teachers do not have the resources to teach?

Teacher: I believe students need to learn more about current events. KJ: Current events are very important. Anything else? What about life skills? Is

there a need for students to learn more about life skills? T: What is in a life skills class? KJ: Life skills include things like how to keep yourself and your family healthy.

Things like how to help your community protect its drinking water supply, how to avoid malaria, how to make sure children grow up to be healthy and strong by getting vaccinations.

T: Yes! Students need to learn more about healthy habits and how to take care.

This is very important. KJ: Would you be interested in teaching life skills? T: Yes! I would like to teach this. It is a very important subject (fieldnotes, March

14, 2014).

Despite the rationalizing I had done prior to the conversation, I felt it was a blatant

example of “facipulation”. I was uncomfortable enough not to repeat this conversation in the

other camps I visited as I had originally agreed to do. “Facipulation” is a slang word I regularly

hear in conversations with development workers; it is made by combining “facilitation” and

“manipulation”. As noted by Cooke & Kothari (2001), perhaps the use of humor and irony

enables me to articulate and share concerns about participatory methods and simultaneously

minimize their significance. The perceived necessity or correctness of a particular decision leads

ID experts to use participatory methods that will lead participants to agree with the expert’s

suggestions. In this context, these participatory methods have critical elements of social and

economic power that can lead to a consensus that may or may not reflect actual refugee

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thoughts and desires. The economic power of the NGO staff is obvious, and the facilitators are,

in turn, held to specific requirements by funders. The social power of NGO staff comes in part

from the social norm along the border of maintaining harmony at all costs, and in part from

many camp members’ sense that NGO staff move around more and know more about the

outside world.

This dynamic is evident in the conversation above: the teacher notes the need for

students to learn more about current events. When asked if life skills would be useful, the

teacher asks what life skills is. While it’s quite possible that the teacher’s very positive response

to the question of life skills needs reflects their sense of skills that students need to survive and

thrive, it is also quite possible that, given what appears to be a choice between no new courses

and a life skills course, the teacher felt life skills should be pursued, regardless of the depth of

need for it in the camp. Words are a small part of the communications, and verbally agreeing to

something may be done for a variety of reasons.

Facipulation. Using a combination of educating participants about best practices and

pedagogic strategies with participatory methods such as providing participants with a topic,

asking them to discuss in groups, then reporting out to the whole group before making a

decision, an NGO in the northern camps was able to work with the refugees to create a camp-

based education system. Mosse (2004) describes this process as one in which “techniques of

participation…turn out to be disciplinary technologies deployed to produce ‘proper’

beneficiaries with planning knowledge out of local people and their ways of thinking and doing”

(p. 4). This was a common and expected process used by international experts working with

program managers in the camp. In my experience, many NGOs along the border and around the

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world are using similar methods to achieve the “correct” answers via participatory methods.

The following example is from my previous work with camp residents in 2007. It further

illustrates the concept of “facipulation” and is a parallel example to the life skills process I

described above. One difference between this following process and my conversation above is

that in the above conversation, the “data” that “proved” the camp residents wanted a life skills

module was not delivered back to the organization, whereas in the example below, decisions

were made based on the results of facipulation.

An NGO working along the border had hired a US-based consultant to investigate the

question of high teacher turnover in the camps. The researcher wrote questions to explore this

issue, and eight focus groups were organized and led by an interpreter who spoke the

dominant ethnic language, Burmese, and English. Responses were recorded and transcribed

directly into English. The researcher left suddenly, and I was therefore offered the opportunity

to analyze the data. The report, based on the data, was the foundation of the following

meeting, the goal of which was to make decisions on how to reduce teacher turnover in the

camp schools.

The meeting was attended by administrators and subject coordinators in the camp school system, accompanied by their mentors, all of whom were NGO staff, for a total of seven NGO staff and ten camp residents. An NGO staff member was the facilitator, and he started the meeting by reviewing the research and findings, then listing the three recommendations on the white board. The meeting participants were asked to brainstorm ideas to address these recommendations, and each suggestion was written on the board under one or more of the headings. As the facilitator wrote the ideas on the board, he used facial expressions, tone of voice, and body language (e.g., nodding, smiling, and emphatically saying “yes!”) to highlight certain ideas.

The participants were then asked to get into three groups and discuss one topic

per group. The discussions were in a mixture of Kayah, Burmese, and English languages, and the western NGO staff present each joined a group. Our unofficial yet very much expected role was to steer the conversations toward the “right” (i.e., ID-preferred)

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answers. This steering was part of “capacity building”, with leading questions presented to the small group so they would determine the answer themselves. After the discussions, each group reported out to the larger group which suggestion seemed to be the best way forward with regards to their specific recommendation and why. The topic was opened for discussion by anyone at the table, which resulted in questions and agreements, but never challenges or alternative suggestions. Then, the facilitator put a check mark next to the “winning” idea under each topic. A consensus on ways forward had been reached after the three topics had been discussed and winning ideas checked (fieldnotes, October 3, 2007; Johnson, 2007).

I wondered about the role of the NGO workers in obtaining consensus. A Western

consultant had determined the questions to ask for data collection, and my analysis of the data

resulted in the topics of discussion. I had also been responsible for steering the discussion in my

group toward implementation methods that could be met, measured, and used by the NGO to

show successful project completion. Ideas such as more training and increased parent

involvement were acceptable for these purposes; however, there were no discussions about

the philosophy behind these ideas and whether that philosophy was truly embraced by those in

the camps. A footnote to the experience above:

We (the NGO staff) left the camp in the late afternoon. When I arrived back in town, I called a friend who worked for a different NGO. We chatted on the phone for a while, and laughed uncomfortably about the importance of being able to “facipulate” in our jobs. We pondered what a participatory exercise might look like without it and decided that given our education and paradigm, the best we could do is to make sure the audience knew where we were coming from up front and encourage them to disagree as they saw fit. Just before shifting conversation topics, we talked about the possibility of someone disagreeing and noted “that’ll never happen…” (fieldnotes, Oct. 3, 2007).

Ideally, participatory methods invite marginalized populations into the policy making

process. They are intended to capture local priorities and give voice to the different experiences

of otherwise-silenced populations (see e.g., Mayoux & Chambers, 2005). However, scholars

such as Bell (1994), Cooke & Kothari (2001), and Stirrat (1997) point out the participatory

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methods are limited by the researcher’s self-knowledge, understandings, and epistemology.

Questions concerning the public nature (and therefore social positioning of participants) of

participation, the researcher’s own limitations, the institutional and bureaucratic requirements,

the definition of the “community”, and the tendency to conflate social structures with

institutions are among some of the critiques of the use of participatory methods that led Cooke

and Kothari (2001) to argue that participatory methods in practice too often facilitate the

“illegitimate and/or unjust exercise of power” (p. 4).

Scholars including Kapoor (2004), Taylor (2009), and Makuwira (2004), have examined

the process of participation across levels to gain insight into how local level decisions and

desires are expressed in national and international decisions about development. They have

noted that participation can and often does take on a form of managerialism, particularly at the

sub-national levels. A managerial form of participation is one the uses participation as a tool to

achieve pre-determined outcomes. Controlling the conversation allows participatory

techniques to facilitate community buy-in to predetermined projects by limiting options and

discussion time, and by calling for a vote and declaring a consensus, regardless of its

authenticity.

A third form of participation follows an initial participatory method (e.g., facipulation or

other) to plan the curriculum then EBP staff and volunteers engage with the plan in a

technocratic manner. Factors such as difficult travel (logistics, expense, documents) and

restricted access to camps form the main reasons why participation in the development of the

curricula often is limited to consultation and pilot projects. Additionally, there may be an idea

among the EBP staff and funders that the technocratic development of the curricula results in a

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“better” product; i.e., one that conforms to ID norms.

The above section examines three different forms of participation. The first form of

participation privileges participant voice and provides little structure. The agenda is set or the

problem is defined by the participants; the experts do not work with the participants to decide

on a solution, and do provide support to roll out the solution, regardless of their (dis)comfort

with it. This type of participation results in development projects that completely reflect the

participants’ ideas at the time; however, this type of participation does not lead to what Willis

(2005) identifies as empowerment, the “lead to greater self-awareness and confidence [nor

does it] contribution to [the] development of democracy” (p. 103) because it does not “engage

in reflection on [the] concrete situation” (Freire, 1984, p. 52). Asking people to express

themselves without engaging them in reflection, dialogue, and alternative points of view may

lead to action, but it seldom leads to effective change. This is perhaps most evident in the lack

of attention to or reflection on what it meant to have one participant’s voice play an outsized

role in the participatory process supported by the NGO.

The second form of participation highlights specific knowledge that the expert chooses

to share with the participant. Based on this knowledge only, the participant is often convinced

(though not always) that the expert’s idea is in fact correct. The participant may reflect on how

this knowledge would be materialized in her specific context, however she is not given

alternative or oppositional knowledge to allow for comparisons, nor are conversations arranged

to encourage them. Additionally, the social status of the expert plays a role in convincing the

participant that this knowledge is correct. Another uncomfortable characteristic of

facilipulation is that it often ends with a “yes” or “no” decision (e.g., would you like a life skills

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module”), meaning that the facipulator set the agenda.

The third form of participation allows participants to express their opinions, however

the ultimate control over the development and final product resides with the experts. This form

of participation relies on the experts’ ability to translate local ideas and concepts into “ID-

speak” then translate ID-speak into academic activities and language appropriate for use in the

modules. During the pilot tests of a new module, teachers are encouraged to give feedback and

modifications are made, however the majority of the suggestions EBP receives are around the

amount and level of content; the suggestions very rarely address the overall framework

(interview, Aug 5, 2011).

EBP uses all of these approaches for module creation and in their other work in the

camps. Only EBP staff use the first approach. This approach takes a lot of time (the EBP staff

person attends all of the meetings but says very little) and requires the EBP staff person to

travel to attend the meetings. Handing the project entirely over to the participants is rarely

done, given the challenges of transportation and access. It is also likely rare because EBP must

show the deliverables to the funder, who’s aim is to promote social and economic development

through education. With an aim that includes economic development, it is unlikely that the

donor will see to see the merit in modules such as the conjunction module above.

Facipulation is not uncommon, but is often reserved for times when it is “needed”.

Circumstances in which facipulation is likely to be used include when donors request a specific

outcome or if a new funding stream opens up. Facipulation is also likely to be used to promote

acceptance (at least publicly-demonstrated acceptance) of a project a staff or volunteer would

like to do. Facipulation can be done by either a staff member or a volunteer who has been

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along the border long enough to build some relationships with participants and with EBP staff.

The third type of participation discussed above is used widely and often. An EBP staff or

volunteer talks with the participants about a module and brings notes from the discussion back

to EBP. These notes are used interpreted and used by multiple staff and volunteers over time

until the module is drafted. Typically, one person drafts the module, one person edits the

module, and one person lays out the module in a publishing design software. Often there is a

turnover in volunteers so that the person who begins drafting or editing the module is not the

same as the person who finishes the module. Participants may be consulted throughout the

process of drafting the module, with the information gleaned being used and interpreted by

whomever is working on the module at the time.

Drafting the modules. In general, with some exceptions such as that described above,

the first draft of an EBP module is created by paid staff and volunteers who may or may not

receive an outline of content to include in the modules. The authors choose topics they believe

are important for people in the camp and work with EBP staff and the target audience to pitch

the content at an appropriate level. The modules are all written by international staff or

volunteers, and they all reflect an epistemology that coincides with the European

Enlightenment and world society norms, and which is also the foundation for ID epistemology.

When a topic is chosen, the staff in charge of drafting the module use the Internet and

other sources (e.g., a connection with a university, books they brought with them, etc.) to find

relevant pre-made curricula and information. They draft the module by combining, modifying

and creating lessons appropriate for the topic. These lessons are sequenced and formatted into

a module. A teacher’s guide, with suggested activities and answers to some of the questions in

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the module, is produced, and the module is piloted. One volunteer indicated that the module

she worked on was piloted by a foreign teacher working in a migrant learning center outside of

the camps and by a Karen teacher working in the camps. Feedback from the pilot sites, teachers

who might use the modules, and KREG staff is incorporated into the module. The vast majority

of the needs articulated by teachers surround understanding and presenting the content in the

modules, including identifying gaps in content coverage and additional topics of potential

interest.

EBP creates modules for adult learners and for post-10 schools, regardless of their

ethnic or educational affiliation. As a result, each module is designed to stand alone and form

either the basis for an adult short course and/or be incorporated into the existing curricula of

longer courses taught in post-10 schools. Because the modules are designed to be stand-alone

pieces, there is often some content overlap between them. EBP occasionally revises the

modules and strives to ensure that gaps identified by teachers using the modules are filled;

however, content overlap is not often addressed, as the modules were not designed to form

one entire curriculum (interview, Feb 25, 2014; fieldnotes Feb 26, 2014).

EBP curriculum construction often reflects local expertise and funder priorities more so

than a desire for quality curricula or local need. As with the vast majority of funded partners,

there is a certain deference to the funders’ pet projects and priorities. Additionally, as the

salaries for EBP expatriate staff are low and the volunteer stipends lower, there is seldom an

opportunity to hire for a specific area of knowledge; EBP administrators work to combine the

(perceived) strengths of the staff and volunteers with local needs and funder priorities.

The scope and sequence of the modules therefore varies widely, depending on a variety

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of factors, including the curricula already in use prior to the creation of the module, which

teachers were involved in its creation, and the subject knowledge, pedagogic knowledge, and

interests of the staff and/or volunteers whom EBP asked to draft and edit the module. For

example, the creation of the EBP General English Pre-Intermediate book (which is a compilation

of four modules) began with multiple consultations. EBP met with a number of different

teachers in different settings (in camps and migrant schools serving different ethnic minority-

majorities) to determine the scope and sequence of the content the teachers were currently

using. The teachers in most of the camps were using a Cambridge University Press curriculum,

Language in Use, and they liked using it, or at least were familiar with it. This book had a

“Course Map” at the beginning that was used to facilitate discussions around the scope and

sequence of the EBP General English Pre-Intermediate book. The teachers indicated they liked

the course map and created a similar one for the EBP module:

Figure 5. Course Map from “General English Pre-Intermediate” module

The “Module” column indicates the number of the module in a 1-12 sequence. The page

numbers indicate the page in the book on which the individual modules start. The “Structures”

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column indicates the structures in the language that will be presented and practiced in each

module. The “Topics and Functions” column was filled in by holding several brainstorming and

workshopping sessions with the EBP staff and the teachers who would use the curriculum.

“Skills” were modified from the original to include pronunciation, an English language skill

noted by many English and non-native English speakers alike to be extraordinarily difficult for

Karen and Burmese speakers. The “Learner Training” column was filled in by EBP staff to

indicate meta-cognitive strategies needed for learning. These were presented to the teachers

for feedback and modification; however, there was very little of either. “Review and Tests”

indicates what type of student assessments can be found in each chapter (interview, Feb 25,

2014).

The curriculum map and the process in which it was made are indicative of the ethos

that drives the participatory methods used in EBP’s creation of curricula. EBP encourages all

teachers and administrators to be involved in the needs assessment; no one who wants to

participate is excluded. When the needs assessment is completed, EBP staff and volunteers

interpret the data and make decisions regarding the module topics and content. These

decisions are not questioned or challenged, as the modules produced are distributed to the

schools at no cost and are paid for by funders who are interested in seeing results, not the

process of obtaining results. As a result, EBP uses participatory methods that focus on the

planning phase of curriculum construction, are inclusive in their scope, and are characterized by

one-way communications from participants to planners, which are then used to drive the

“technical” work of the curriculum drafters. The power and authority ultimately lie with EBP,

and the participatory methods serve both to inform the modules and convince the donors of

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the need for them, but generally neither build participants’ capacity through full inclusion in

post-planning phases, nor attend carefully to whose voices are not volunteered as part of the

participatory process.

The Final Product: EBP Modules

With the possible exceptions of its English modules, EBP modules that are used by the

PSES schools in their lower divisions were created through the same process used for adult

education models (as described above), but are developed to facilitate access to academic

knowledge; they were not developed with employment or skills training in mind. Participatory

methods are used to determine-or verify-the topics of the modules, but the scope and

sequence are largely determined more by the authors’ interests and expertise. The majority of

the modules focus on providing a breadth of content rather than depth. This may be due to the

lack of resources available to the curriculum writers, to the individual curriculum writers’

limited expertise in an area, to the curriculum writers’ understanding of the level of the target

audience, or other reasons. By providing breadth rather than depth, the modules generally

focus less on practicing critical thinking skills and more on surface-level knowledge. This seems

contradictory to what teachers and administrators say they want, but is reflective (or is

reflected in) the teaching and student assessment styles used in the camps.

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Figure 6. Table of Contents from the 2009 “Environment Issues” module

EBP modules in practice. While the EBP modules weren’t perfect, they did allow the

schools to open and classes to commence, and classes of students have graduated from PSES

schools every year since 2010. Despite being a protracted refugee situation, the initiation of the

PSES took on some of the characteristics of education in emergency settings, including the

pragmatic adoption of imperfect curricula in an effort to open the schools. All of the junior

colleges base their curriculum around the EBP modules, however, the ways in which the schools

use the modules varies significantly, indicating different interpretations and abilities to carry

out of PSES board policies in addition to different school priorities. Some of the junior colleges

encourage their teachers to rely heavily on the EBP modules, with most of the teachers

following the lessons verbatim; other schools encourage their teachers to use the modules as a

guide, incorporating other materials and expanding the lessons, and of course within the

schools there is variation among the teachers. Regardless of how the classes are taught and

how the materials are used, all students sit for the same exam, which is based entirely on the

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EBP modules.

As of August 2014, PSES had produced two additional science modules and an

orientation module. In 2013, curriculum development was suspended until there is more

information regarding repatriation and how that would affect the PSES system. The science

modules are a compilation of photocopied pages from a variety of middle and high school-level

science books used in countries that sponsor ID in the region. The page numbers have not been

changed, so the photocopied books are difficult to use as the numbers on the pages are non-

sequential and often contain duplicates, leading to classroom instructions that often include

phrases like “Turn to page 24. No-the other 24”. The PSES science teachers involved in creating

these books take great pride in how the book was put together, who did which subject, and the

further revisions in terms of content they would like to see (Interview, March 5, 2014;

fieldnotes, March 6 and 25, 2014).

The orientation module was designed as the curriculum for a one-credit class focused

on the structure of PSES. For example, the module explains what credits are, how they are

earned, and how many are needed for graduation. The concept of a transcript is introduced as

is the concept of elective classes. When I asked about the need for an orientation class, a KREG

staff member laughed and said, “other students don’t need this but PSES students do.” I asked

what the goal of the class was, and she suggested that orientation class would “teach them

what education is” (fieldnotes, Feb. 13, 2014).

In addition to the modules they produced, PSES received permission to affix its own

cover to a philosophy of education module written and produced by the EBP. Looking only at

the covers of the modules would lead one to believe that PSES produced the module; however,

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opening the cover reveals the cover of the original organization. I did wonder about the

rationale for requiring all students to take an education class and was told that this is what was

required at Spicer College, thus it was a requirement at PSES. I asked how the education

module reflected Karen culture and was told that education class was part of higher education.

I interpreted this to mean that the teachers with whom I spoke understood the philosophy of

education class to be part of the structure and definition of “what post-secondary education (in

ID countries) is”; that is, I interpreted these responses as saying that to be a legitimate (in the

eyes of ID countries) academic program, a post-secondary school must offer a philosophy of

education class. My suggestions to think through the rationale were met with apathy bordering

on negative reactions, with the most common attitude being “this is the way it is supposed to

be” (fieldnotes, April 7, 2014).

Interestingly, though there is a strong desire among the PSES board of directors and

KREG to create content that is culturally relevant and made by and for Karen people, the

modules created thus far all stem directly from ID sources and approaches. The science and

education modules were created solely from ID sources because they are an important part of

an ID-model education as understood by the PSES founders. The orientation module is the only

one completely authored by PSES, and it aims to inculcate students into an ID-generated form

and idea of education. The ideas put forth in this module celebrate colonial educational norms

including exams, individuality, punctuality, and proper dress. In contrast, values surrounding

community leadership, common sense and practical knowledge, and social harmony, important

social norms in the camps, are absent from the orientation module (PSES, 2012; PSES, 2014).

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Conclusion

Looking at the similarities and differences across decision making processes in schools provides

insights into the ways in which different schools within a single system interpret and implement

policy to attempt achieve similar goals. In this chapter, I argued that different participatory

methods resulted in different types of curricula. To support this argument, the chapter

examined three methods of participation and examined the outcomes of using each. In the first

method, the EBP staff was mindful of local knowledge, of the need for local ownership, and was

careful not to dominate the conversation. In this case, however, only the module was

produced, and the production process itself may have marginalized all but one refugee

teachers’ voice. There was also no component of the process that provided a space for self-

understanding or reflection, which might have benefitted the participants in various ways. In

this example, neither the participant nor the ID professional learned much about teaching and

learning English at the PSES schools.

The second example looked at facipulation and attempted to disentangle the learning

and teaching from manipulation in a participatory setting. Teaching and learning are integral

parts of participatory methods, however doing so with the aim of facilitating a specific answer

from the participants is closer to manipulation than to teaching and learning.

Not surprisingly, these forms of participation led to different outcomes. This first led to

materials that did not reflect international best practices, and raised concerns for EBP staff

about whether privileging the teachers’ voices by giving them total control over the manual was

a greater priority than assuring that students were provided with the materials that would be

considered international best practice. In contrast, the second and third methods of

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participation resulted in materials that very much reflected international best practices, but

included little from the teachers in the way of assurance that the topics and academic activities

were relevant to the camp setting.

The forms of participation used by EBP reflect those used by EDA in the formation of the

camp-based systems (see Chapter 4), participatory methods used by PSES and KREG in the

formation and management of the PSES schools (see Chapter 5), and those used by an INGO in

the convergence process discussed in Chapter 8. In Chapter 4 we saw that EDA used a one-

person, one-vote approach, which resulted in the dominance of a single ethnic group. It also

resulted in a curriculum that did not conform to many of the ID norms. Over time, as the

curriculum was reformed and updated, some of the ID norms have begun to enter the

curriculum, however it does not yet conform to an ID ideal. In an effort not to use facipulation,

both EDA and EBP allowed the participants to drive the curriculum development process. In

EDA’s situation, there is a strong Karen ownership of and pride in the curriculum. In EBP’s

situation, however, none of the refugees I spoke with (including the teacher who dominated

the designing process) indicated any pride in the module, and only the dominant teacher took

ownership of it. Perhaps one of the reasons for this is because the conjunction module was

developed more than 20 years after the education system was developed, and it has not been

used and modified by multiple teachers over the years.

The board of directors developed the PSES system by combining their experience in

education and consultations with KREG and camp-based post-10 schools. The PSES board of

directors invited a variety of individuals to meet with them and discuss the possibility of a re-

invigorating the PSES that had been in Man Ner Plaw. After listening to what representatives

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from different groups of stakeholders (e.g., the KNU, the KREG, the post-10 administrators…),

the board members designed the PSES curricula and developed the procedures for how the

school would work. In essence, the board members incorporated the ideas and suggestions

from the stakeholders into their vision of what a PSES should or could look like. This is similar to

the consultative form of participation used by EBP to draft and modify modules. The EBP staff

and volunteers use a technical approach to incorporating participant suggestions and ideas into

the curriculum.

Chapter 7 examines potential and likely durable solutions, and Chapter 8 discusses the

logistics of repatriation, particularly the coming together of the camp-based education system

with the Myanmar education system. To do so, it examines the participatory methods used by

two ID professionals and the reaction of the participants.

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CHAPTER 7: DURABLE SOLUTIONS

Chapter 7 is analogous to and the contemporary version of Chapter 3 in that it provides

the political context for understanding the changes to the situation along the border that are in

part responsible for the changes in the camp-based education system detailed in subsequent

chapters. It draws on neo-institutionalist theories to examine perceptions of the Karen and the

political contexts at various socio-political levels. It argues that states’ (and transnational

corporations’) desires to conform with international expectations of repatriation of the

refugees to Burma, thus restoring the statist status quo, are often only tangentially related to

refugee safety and wellbeing. It further asserts that ID and state-level government policies

surrounding repatriation are “technically expressed but politically shaped” (Mosse, 2004, p. 15),

often to the detriment of refugees. Specifically, this chapter provides the political, educational,

and economic background for the context in which the efforts to blend, or create

“convergence”, between the Burmese education policy and system and the camp-based Karen

education policies and system (discussed in Chapter 8) is taking place.

The changes in ID support for the camp-based and Burmese education systems reflect

changes in international and state level perceptions of both the GRUM and the Karen. From the

1980s to the 2000s, the ID community perceived the Karen as a persecuted ethnic minority and

Burma as a pariah state (Chapter 3). They thus supported the development and maintenance of

the KREG schools. In 2010, the situation in Burma changed dramatically. After more than thirty

years of being perceived by the international community as persecuted victims in need of

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physical and cultural protection, the Karen (and other ethnic groups in the camps along the

border) were suddenly perceived as Burmese citizens who needed to return to their home

country. This chapter provides a context for understanding the origins and motivations for the

ID community’s changing perceptions of the Karen, thus providing insight into the changes to

the education sector supported by the international community, which are discussed in Chapter

8. More specifically, this chapter examines the meanings and significance of repatriation to the

actors at various socio-political levels. It draws on the ethnic tensions discussed in Chapters 2

and 3 to provide the context for calls for repatriation and the ensuing convergence of the camp-

based education system with the reforming Myanmar34 education system.

The late 2000s saw increased efforts to close the camps on the part of the RTG, the

international community, and, from a distance, the GRUM. In 2005, the option for registered

refugees to resettle to a third country was negotiated and approved between the U.S. and the

RTG (WikiLeaks, 2005). The program actively resettled refugees from the Thailand-Burma

border camps to the United States, Canada, Australia, Norway, and Finland. Then, in 2010, a

dramatic political shift in Burma changed the way Burma was perceived by the international

community. “Democratic” elections were held and the winner of the elections was allowed to

take over the presidency.35 Burma opened its doors to foreign officials for the first time in more

34 Prior to 2010, many members of the international community, including the U.S., used the name “Burma”, the name given to the country by the British, rather than “Myanmar”, the name given to the country by the junta. After 2010, many members of the international community, including the U.S., began calling the country “Myanmar”. While I am quite apathetic about the use of either name, I notice that in Chapters 7 and 8, I begin using the name “Myanmar” much more frequently—probably because that is now how the country is often referred to. Please note that my apathy regarding nomenclature for the country has not changed. 35 In 1999, Burma held democratic elections, however the winner of the election, Aung San Suu Kyi, was put under house arrest and was not allowed to become the president of Burma.

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than three decades. In 2011, the United States and Western Europe dropped some economic

sanctions and began to explore trade and diplomatic relationships with Burma. In 2014, the

resettlement program was officially closed, after having resettled approximately 100,000

refugees (Tan & McClellan, 2014).

Forced repatriation becomes a viable option when there is both a push and a pull

argument for international actors to support what might otherwise be viewed as a problematic

response. In addition to political changes in Burma making refugee repatriation appear a more

defensible option, Thailand experienced domestic political instability, making Thailand seem a

less-suitable location for refugees. With the resettlement scheme36 slated to end in 2014 and

the contention that the refugees were unwelcome in Thailand, the GRUM and the RTG began

discussions, mediated by ID experts, regarding refugee repatriation.

Burma has been considered a pariah state for decades due to its appalling human rights

record and treatment of its citizens and residents. As a result, it has had limited bilateral or

multilateral relationships with the international community (see Chapter 3). Following Burma’s

2010 elections, many members of the international community now are seeking to re-establish

diplomatic and economic relationships. To re-establish relationships, the international

community needs evidence of improving human-rights conditions inside the country. The

human-rights conditions with which the international community is concerned are spelled out

in United Nations documents such as the Declaration of Human Rights and the Convention on

the Rights of a Child. Examples of evidence for improved human rights conditions include

36 From 2005 to 2014 over 100,000 refugees were resettled to third countries including Canada, Finland, Australia, and the US.

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increased media and political transparency, release of political prisoners, refugee repatriation,

and provision of public education. Reflecting a world society viewpoint, the international

community is looking for official, state-level evidence, (i.e., legal documents such as signed

ceasefire agreements, not testimonies from individuals living in ceasefire territories) that the

GRUM is governing in a manner that the international community believes is acceptable.

Applications for resettlement officially ended in 2014, and as of this writing, repatriation

has yet to begin. One key area of contention between the refugees and the

GRUM/international experts that has arisen in the current shift from focusing on a resettlement

option to a repatriation option is the perception of safety inside Burma—a legally necessary

requirement for a (forced) repatriation program; and a second, related, concern expressed by

both sides is the Karen refugees’ desire to continue to identify themselves as Karen, rather than

as Burmese. Just a few years ago, both of these issues were used to explicate the need for

resettlement. Now, a shift must occur in the framing of these issues in order to make

repatriation viable.

Policies surrounding repatriation are “technically expressed but politically shaped”

(Mosse, 2004, p. 15). UN conventions surrounding repatriation and the need to officially adhere

to them provide the technical expression of the repatriation policies; however, it is the

interpretation of these conventions in light of existing political and economic relations that

shapes the repatriation policies currently on the table for refugees. Examining absences and

presences in planned or enacted repatriation policies thus provides insight into the political

ideologies that are currently shaping refugees’ lives and the opportunities that each of the main

groups (GRUM, RTG, ID actors, Karen) perceive for them.

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Third Country Resettlement

From 2005 to 2014, refugees from the camps along the border were involved in one of

the world’s largest resettlement programs. Only those with an official designation of “refugee”

were eligible to apply for resettlement; those with “temporary” status (see Chapter 3) were not

eligible. To apply for resettlement, the IOM (International Organization for Migration) required

refugee groups (i.e., families, including multigenerational family units) to apply for a specific

country. Because the United States accepted by far the largest number of refugees, many

people applied to resettle there (IOM, 2012; Tan & McClellen, 2014; UNHCR, 2006; TBC, 2014).

More than 100,000 refugees will have been resettled by the time the program ends, with 70%

going to the United States and the remaining 30% to other global north countries, including

Australia, Canada, Finland, and Japan (Burma Link, 2015; Kavi Chongkittavorn, 2001; Tan &

McClellen, 2014).

In 2014, refugee resettlement to third countries was halted, with only those already in

the process permitted to continue and eventually resettle. Resettlement to third countries

ended for multiple reasons: first, the receiving countries had met the quotas to which they had

agreed (TBC, 2014). A second reason was based on a pervasive narrative that people from

peaceful parts of Burma were giving up everything they owned and were going to the camps in

order to be resettled to one of the receiving countries (interview, Feb. 25, 2014; interview, Feb.

28, 2014; interview, May 20, 2014; fieldnotes, March 31-April 2, 2014).

Indeed, despite the mass resettlement initiative impacting more than 100,000 of

140,000 official refugees in the camps, the number of people currently living in the camps

hovers at approximately 100,000. The narrative that these are people from peaceful sections

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who are leaving everything to try to join the repatriation flow is not, however, borne out in my

observations and conversations with multiple actors on who is coming to the camps, why they

say they are staying, and what kind of status they are being given.

The large number of people still living in the camps reflects new arrivals from Burma.

Most have not been granted refugee status, but are living in the camp in an undocumented

status. The Border Consortium, the main provider of food rations to refugees from Burma living

in Thailand, provides a monthly update on the number of people in camp broken down into the

following categories: “1. The verified caseload includes all persons, registered or not, confirmed

living in camp and eligible for rations. 2. Rations are provided only to those who physically

present themselves at distributions. The ‘feeding figure’ is the number of beneficiaries who

collected rations at distribution the previous month. 3. MOI/UNHCR figures are registered

refugees only. Most arrivals after 2005 have not been registered” (TBC, 2014).

From February through September 2014, the TBC updates indicated that its verified

caseload was 120,000, its feeding figure was 113,000, and the MOI/UNHCR figures indicated

there were 74,000 refugees. The February 2015 update indicated a verified caseload of

111,000, a feeding figure of 109,000, and the MOI/UNHCR figure as N/A (all figures rounded to

the nearest thousand). These numbers reflect the period after the end of the resettlement

program.

In February 2015, an estimated 40% of people living in the camps were unregistered. In

addition to the population that was unwilling, unable, or unqualified for resettlement and was

left behind, there have many new arrivals who are not documented by the Thai military and do

not have refugee status (HRW, 2012; Burma Link, 2015; Tan & McClellen, 2014). The

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experiences of living in the refugee camps for this new population of displaced people is

shifting in important ways, especially in light of the narrative that people are coming from

peaceful areas. An expatriate colleague explained to me that “due to resettlement, the camps

are becoming more Karen . . . multiple ethnic groups are leaving and more Karen are coming.”

This makes sense, as the Karen National Union (KNU) was one of the last groups to sign a

ceasefire with the tatmadaw. I asked about one specific camp, and the colleague indicated that

approximately 16,000 residents were registered and that there were approximately 19,000

residents total. These numbers are wildly off from the official numbers released by the

organization charged with food distributions (which said there was a caseload of approximately

12, 500 and a feeding figure of approximately 12,300 for this camp), reflecting the large

difference between official refugees and the actual number of displaced people living in camps

(fieldnotes, March 2, 2014; TBC, 2014; Lawi Weng & Kyaw Kha, 2014).

While there continue to be debates about just who is in the camps, why they are there,

and if and whether they are registered, there is little question but that camp numbers have not

changed significantly in the post-resettlement period, while camp resources and the political

will to recognize people in the camps as refugees has declined precipitously over the last ten

years. With the end of resettlement and the acknowledgement that integration in Thailand was

not an option, the international community has begun the process of reframing the population

of people in the camps, and is concomitantly re-examining the possibilities for repatriation of

this population.

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Burma re-enters37 the international community

In 2010, numerous political changes inside Burma rekindled discussions among camp

stakeholders about the possibility of repatriation. The military leader of Burma, Than Shwe,

stepped down and allowed Thein Sein, another military leader, to resign from the military (i.e.,

become a civilian) and become the temporary caretaker. As the caretaker of Burma, Thein Sein

authorized “democratic” elections. While the legitimacy of the elections was contested

domestically and internationally (see e.g., Wilson, 2010; Horsey, 2010), the elections ultimately

were accepted by the international community, and in March 2011, Thein Sein was recognized

as the first elected president of Myanmar since 1962.

In 2011, elected members of Parliament took their places in the political capital of

Myanmar for the first time in decades. Myanmar announced a plan for democratization that

included technical assistance from many multilateral organizations to draft and enact laws and

regulations that reflected the country’s new political status as a multiparty democracy. Since

then, bilateral relationships have warmed considerably, and sanctions against Burma have been

lifted. This means companies based in countries that had signed on to the sanctions are now

free to do business with Burma, and the international community (i.e., multilateral and bilateral

organizations) is free to offer loans and technical assistance to the Burmese government.

During this time, many governments have begun to formally accept the name Myanmar, and

37 As noted in Chapter 2, Burma was governed by a military coup from 1962 to 2010. During this time, the political

leaders of Burma essentially isolated themselves from the international community, and civil conflict within Burma

raged. This dissertation confines itself to the displacement of people from Burma into Thailand beginning in the

1970s and their potential return to Burma in 2015 and beyond. A detailed description of the recent history inside

Burma (1970s to 2010) is beyond the scope of this dissertation and is well-documented elsewhere. This section

instead provides a brief overview of the changes inside Burma that allowed repatriation to be considered by

international actors. The interested reader can find more information about Burma’s political climate between 1962

and 2010 in the following sources: Lintner (1996), Fink (2001), and Bamforth and Van der Stowe (2001). For more

information on the recent (2010 to 2015) political changes inside Burma, please see AIIA (2015).

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the internationally recognized name of the government became the Government of the

Republic of the Union of Myanmar.

Despite these significant changes to the GRUM’s standing on the international stage,

Burma has suffered ongoing internal instability, which is a cause for concern regarding

compliance with the human rights conventions. Part of assuring the international community

that Burma is a viable, stable trading and diplomatic partner is quelling internal conflicts and

repatriating refugees. During the first year of his presidency, Thein Sein’s tatmadaw signed

thirteen ceasefire agreements with ethnic minority armed rebel groups, including the KNU,

which signed a ceasefire agreement in January 2012 (EBO, 2013; Thin Lei Win, 2014). These

ceasefire agreements were important for several reasons. First, they showed the international

community that Burma was officially at peace with itself and that it was a democratically-run

country. Second, the ceasefires served as a way to bring the armed rebel groups under the

tatmadaw’s control, as they required the rebel forces to swear allegiance to Myanmar and to

transform themselves into border guard units.

Due to the junta’s resignation of power, the “democratic” elections held in 2011, and

the ceasefire agreements, repatriation came to be seen by international actors as an

increasingly viable option. And, all of the major actors other than the Karen felt that

repatriation would meet their goals. For international actors in particular, however, repatriation

was only an option insofar as the new Burmese government was perceived to be democratic

and working towards compliance with all UN human rights treaties to which it was a signatory.

The following section examines the various rationales of the GRUM, the RTG, and the

international community for increasing the frequency and intensity of discussions about

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refugee repatriation. It ends with a discussion about refugee perceptions about repatriation.

Repatriation

Repatriation is understood differently by the government of the host country, the home

government, the refugees, and the international community. In important ways, as I discuss

further in the conclusion, in the Burma-Thailand case, the differences in understandings among

these actors closely mirror the different stances that previously led them to all support what I

have shown to be a camp-based education system that supported Karen nationalism. As the

political winds have shifted, however, each group’s calculations about how to engage one

another and how to conceptualize a Karen future have led to a situation in which all major

actors but the Karen are aligning around forced repatriation as the best option.

In 1996, McNamara announced a doctrine of “imposed return,” which allowed for the

involuntary return of refugees to their countries without invoking the notion of refoulment. This

policy called for refugees to be repatriated to their geographical places of origin for reasons

including host country instability equal to or worse than that of the home country. Involuntary

repatriation was rationalized as a way of protecting refugees from host country nationals.

Refugees indicating an unwillingness to return to their homes were offered the option of

relocating elsewhere within their home state’s borders. The policy of imposed return thus

consolidates and legitimizes the concept of “home” as a physical place (and more specifically,

the space contained by a state) unrelated to the surrounding socio-political community (Long,

2010; Chimni, 2004; Black, 2001). Through their failure to take the surrounding community into

account, these policies reflect an assumption of a homogeneous population within the state.

Conditions in the host country also help to determine repatriation timelines. A large

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portion of the financial responsibility of hosting refugees often falls on the host government,

with inadequate “burden sharing” in terms of funding and hosting from other governments.

The high cost of hosting refugees often results in a lack of essential services, such as medical

care and adequate food, water, and sanitation, which can result in a push factor that

encourages repatriation, sometimes back to unstable situations. For example, in 1995, Bosnian

refugees experienced the first imposed-return policy, driven by the drain on European

resources. In 2008, the Pakistani government facilitated “voluntary” repatriation of Afghan

refugees by razing the homes and shops in the largest Afghan refugee camp in Pakistan. In

2014, the Thai junta’s census was perceived by many refugees as a similar threat, and that led

some to begin preparations for returning, despite not feeling safe inside Burma (Chimni, 2004;

UNHCR, 2013; fieldnotes, July 1, 2014).

Black (2001) argued that “mistaken assumptions about the simplicity of returning

‘home’ have posed significant problems for the process of post-war reconstruction” (p. 124).

Some of the assumptions related to repatriation made by the international community, the

GRUM, and the refugees in the Thailand-Burma border camps are explored in the following

section.

What Repatriation means to the GRUM

The following section examines Burma’s re-entry into the international community—an

essential step in pushing for repatriation, and a central component of the assumption that

repatriation will represent a real opportunity for some level of self-determination for the Karen

(enough to assure no major human rights violations), and thus that the international

community and Burma can work together to maintain the statist status quo.

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For the home government, signing ceasefires and treaties among the armed factions

within their territory provides evidence of the internal peace and stability necessary to be

considered for expanded foreign investment and diplomatic relations. On the international

stage, refugee repatriation serves as additional evidence for the international community of

both the GRUM’s domestic stability and as evidence for compliance with human rights treaties.

In essence, the GRUM views refugee repatriation as a process that will provide evidence to

international community members of its right to be a state of good international standing.

However, there is little evidence that the GRUM holds any desire to (re)integrate ethnic

minority groups into Burma. For example, a desire for the return and reintegration of the

refugees to Burma would require that the GRUM address the nation-building strategies of the

ethnic minorities. To do so, the GRUM would need to openly address its own nation-building

strategies, including using education as a tool for creating Burmese citizens. So far, and as

discussed further in Chapter 8, the GRUM has instead actively created barriers to examining the

education-based nation-building strategies used by the ethnic minorities and by the Myanmar

MOE.

While the international community understands Myanmar to be a multi-nation-state

governed by the democratically elected GRUM, the GRUM understands Myanmar to be a

political state that is segregated into ethnic majority and minority regions, all of which are and

should be governed by the Bama, who control the GRUM (Nilsen & Tonnesson, 2016). Refugees

who repatriate would be given the option of returning to their ethnic states, which in the past

have been governed differently from the ethnic-majority divisions, but they would be expected

to act as citizens of the Burmese state. This means, for example, they would be expected to

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learn Burmese in schools, use Burmese in all political interactions, and comply with Burmese

immigration and emigration policies. As discussed previously, to the Karen, these “statist” acts

are viewed as active efforts to destroy Karen culture and language.

From a critical perspective, repatriation policies can be viewed as supporting the GRUM

by appearing to provide evidence to the international community that causes of displacement

have been addressed successfully. Because displacement was initiated by human rights abuses

targeting ethnic minority groups as minority groups, having the refugees return to Burma could

be considered evidence that the human rights abuses have ended and that Burma is closer to

being in compliance with the various UN human-rights documents that require state respect for

national heritage (e.g., language).

To consider repatriation, the international community requires movement toward

compliance rather than full compliance with all of the human-rights treaties. Thus, moving

toward fewer human rights violations—as opposed to the absence of violations—may be

considered a move towards compliance. As another example, the GRUM must be willing to

provide education for all ethnic minority children living in Burma; however, there has been little

discussion about the nation-building aspects and identity-fostering components of the

education the GRUM would provide (see Chapter 8). Nonetheless, if the GRUM takes part in

education planning exercises for “all” Burmese children that are in fact Bama nationalist in their

focus, this could still be perceived as a move toward compliance.

What Repatriation Means to the International Community

Regularizing relations. Refugee repatriation has only recently been considered an

option, thanks in large part to the signing of ceasefire agreements and improvements in

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compliance with human-rights conditions noted by the international community during visits in

2011 and 2012 to major cities such as Yangon and Mandalay, which are located in ethnic

majority areas. The GRUM has also taken steps to ensure that all Burmese citizens have access

to a quality education by inviting international experts to work with the Ministry of Education

and other ministries that are involved in education (see Chapter 8).

The signing of ceasefire agreements and provision of services are taken by the

international community to indicate that the designated territory is at peace, which includes

not only a cessation of armed conflict but also the beginning of reconciliation. Part of

reconciliation includes the repatriation of refugees to their home country, replacing ethnic

division with reconciliation and re-enforcing the dominance and legitimacy of the political state

in the international community. Returning “home” to a geographical location is both symbolic

and is overt evidence of peace, as it theoretically indicates that groups that were previously in

conflict with the state now feel safe residing under the control of the state. Refugee

repatriation is also viewed as a sign of a strong government that can control its people and its

lands and can secure its borders (Malkki, 1995; Black, 2001).

Thus, repatriation for the international community is a sign of regularized relations

within states, which in turn indicates to the international community that the state is legitimate

from the perspective of international treaties and conventions.

Re-establishing trade and diplomatic relationships. In addition to—and perhaps in spite

of—human rights concerns, international governments are anxious to restore diplomatic and

trade relations with Myanmar. Because Myanmar had been cut off from the international

community, it is seen as having a large number of untapped resources. For this reason, foreign

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investors were eager to locate production and storage centers in Burma and to gain rights to

extract its resources (see e.g., Green Political Foundation, 2013).

Burma’s resources range from agriculture to extractables to labor. Prior to the coup,

Burma was a net exporter of rice; its ability to produce food outstripped its needs. The land in

the Irrawaddy delta is extremely fertile, and the agricultural potential is high. Additionally, the

mountainous areas of western and northern Burma are home to precious gems and metals,

such as emeralds and rubies, copper and silver. The mining industry in Burma has greatly

expanded since the democratic elections. Several major rivers run through Burma, including the

Irrawaddy, the Mekong, and the Salween. Recently, foreign investors have indicated interest in

damming the rivers for the production of hydroelectric power. Teak forests are abundant in

these mountainous regions as well, and companies involved in the lumber industry are seeking

permission to extract the wood. Finally, there are large deposits of offshore oil that are being

explored.

The China-Myanmar pipeline currently transports oil across Burma and into China, the

Yadana pipeline runs from the offshore oilfields in Burma to Thailand, and other development

projects (e.g., Dawei in Tavoy State) are in the planning stages. Currently, the GRUM has very

few environmental protection laws and has a limited ability to enforce the ones it does have. In

addition to production and extractables, Burma has a large labor force and no national labor

laws. A large, undereducated, financially poor population offers foreign investors low-skilled

labor at low wages.

Diplomacy. In addition to the potential for profitable trade, international community

members are seeking diplomatic relationships with Burma. As noted above, Burma’s allies prior

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to the election included North Korea and China. There is considerable concern over rumored

North Korean support for technical assistance and infrastructure to create and store nuclear

weapons in Burma. These rumors have yet to be confirmed, and as nuclear disclosure is part of

nuclear agreements, the international community as a whole is eager to engage with the GRUM

to begin assuring itself that a new nuclear power is not being built (MacDonald, 2013).

In addition to the potential for extant nuclear arms in Burma, the relationship between

China and Burma has been cause for alarm. Over the past several decades, China has been

Burma’s main trading partner, which has resulted in a relatively strong Chinese influence in

Burma. As the Chinese economy accelerates, there is concern among many international

community members that China will dominate Burma’s political and economic policies.

Thus, there are multiple reasons that the international community may be motivated to

consider repatriation a positive development in the current situation. A critical interpretation of

the international community’s view of repatriation might argue that repatriation policies serve

in part as official discourses that rationalize the (re)creation of diplomatic relationships with the

GRUM. The desire to establish diplomatic relations, and thus to be able to access natural

resources and engage the government, is well-served by policies of repatriation, as these

policies are meant to indicate the cessation of hostilities and of human rights abuses. If it is safe

for refugees to return home, it is morally permissible for governments and companies to do

business in Burma. Within this frame, it’s quite easy to translate political issues into

technocratic ones: peace is as straightforward as a signed treaty, repatriation represents a

comfortable equalization of minority relations with the state, and educational quality and

character is a technical concern. Within such a framework, little attention or voice is given to

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refugees and their experiences and opinions.

Repatriation and the RTG

Like the rest of the international community, the host country government interprets

ceasefires and peace treaties as evidence of an ending to the hostilities and a potential for the

refugees to return home. As discussed in Chapter 3, Thailand is not a signatory to the Refugee

Convention; however, it has served as a host nation for multiple ethnic groups fleeing violence

in their own countries. As for the camps along the Thailand-Burma border, the RTG has been

providing land for the camps and military resources for camp security for more than 30 years. In

addition, it has been providing administrative resources to oversee the camps and to monitor

compliance with mandates such as those surrounding the camp-based education system. These

costs are far from insignificant, and incurring them carries its own political risks that different

Thai leaders have felt they were more or less willing to take on at different times.

Military coup in Thailand. In April 2011, one month after Burma transitioned to a

nominally civilian government, Thai authorities announced they were discussing with the

GRUM the possibility of closing the camps (Chitradon, 2011). On May 22, 2014, the Royal Thai

Army took over the RTG in a military coup. A nationwide curfew was put into effect, and

increasingly xenophobic policies, such as restricted travel for foreigners, were enacted. Within

days, the military presence along the border grew substantially.

Shortly after taking power, the Thai junta that replaced the RTG announced it wanted to

repatriate all refugees by 2015 (Saw Yan Naing, 2014b; Burma Link, 2015). Using ceasefires and

promises made by the GRUM as evidence, the RTG claimed that there was no longer a need for

people to be kept inside the guarded camp fences. Policy discussions shifted to focus on

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transportation and the economic logistics of moving refugees back to Burma.

Less than one month after taking over the Thai government, the junta issued orders for

the Thai military to take a census of all refugees in the camps. In the camps, there was

widespread fear and speculation about the purpose of the census. Members of the Thai military

arrived at each camp, and soldiers went house to house counting who was living where. The

soldiers wore their uniforms, including firearms, and conducted the census in Karen or Thai

language. Numbers similar to addresses were painted on the bamboo houses to assist with the

census procedure. By the time the soldiers arrived at the third camp, they had changed the

procedure to allow people to leave their houses and to go register at centralized points in the

camp. However, the seeds of mistrust had been sown when the military walked into the first

house in the first camp, and residents worried about reduced rations and other humanitarian

aid, as well as about forced repatriation (fieldnotes, July 1, 2014; Nan Wai Pyo Zar, 2014).

From a critical perspective, the junta’s motivation for pursuing repatriation may have

been to redirect the resources then used for the camps toward projects more visible and

beneficial to Thai citizens. In addition to resources, repatriation would allow Thailand to

continue working on the creation of Thai citizens. Removing the refugees would remove the

need to continuously prevent their social, physical, and economic interactions with Thais, and

would be a visible political success for the junta and its xenophobic policies.

Refugees and Repatriation

Refugees have indicated their desire to return to their homeland; however, this desire is

tempered by the fear of ongoing hostilities despite the signed ceasefires, concerns surrounding

reintegration, and lack of assurance from the GRUM that it will allow ethnic minorities to self-

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determine the evolution of their own culture. As illustrated below, ceasefires are not always

equivalent to localized peace; while the governing bodies have declared an end to the

hostilities, it is up to the individual soldiers and their commanding officers on all sides of the

conflict to enact this peace.

Related to this are concerns about a lack of evidence that the GRUM will allow ethnic

minorities appropriate freedoms, such as using their language(s) in public schools and

developing their own curricula, both of which are intimately tied to cultural self-determination.

The inability to self-determine the evolution of their culture is what initiated the armed

conflicts between the Karen and the tatmadaw in the first place, so without evidence that the

GRUM has changed its stance on Burmanization and ethnic minorities in Burma, there is no

reason to believe that a lasting peace can or will be reached.

Other concerns often expressed by refugees and the communities into which they will

repatriate are the social and physical challenges associated with repatriation. Landmines are

particularly dangerous; because both rebel groups and the tatmadaw have sown them, there is

no single map of extant landmines. Additionally, many of the houses and land left behind by

refugees were claimed by stayees. Because some families have been in camps for more than 30

years, the stayees believe they have a legitimate claim to the land and houses. However, to

repatriate, the returning refugees need a physical location as a destination; they cannot simply

cross the border into Burma and “be home.” Tensions clearly arise over ownership of physical

assets and expand into social concerns, such as loyalty and the purity of one’s Karen-ness.

As noted in Chapter 4, “place” can be perceived as having multiple dimensions,

including a physical dimension and an experiential dimension. Discussions about the logistics of

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the daily living arrangements for resettled refugees and the stayee communities are almost

entirely absent in international discussions about refugee repatriation to Burma. They are of no

interest to the RTG, and they significantly complicate the simplicity of international and GRUM

narratives that posit that as soon as refugees have crossed the border, they are “repatriated”.

Ethnic minorities and ceasefires. As a result of the ceasefires, an international discourse

has emerged that works to silence the voices of people from Burma and prevent them from

telling their lived experiences. This discourse insists that ceasefires have been signed, and

therefore, the fighting in Karen state is over. Drawing on this rationale, the perception of

international actors along the border has shifted, and now many believe that people arriving in

the camps after the ceasefires were enacted are being drawn there, most likely for education,

rather than because they are seeking refuge from a dangerous situation in Burma (fieldnotes,

June 26, April 1, 2, 7, July 9, 10, 2014). In the eyes of some international actors, these ceasefires

signal peace; however, in the conflict areas, the ceasefires are not always recognized and are

not always followed. For example, in July 2015, the Karen News reported fighting between the

tatmadaw and a Karen rebel army that resulted in the displacement of villagers (Nan Wei Pyo

Zar & Sa Isue, 2015; see also S’Phan Shaung, 2015).

Karen state residents and refugees are concerned over the lack of recognition or

acknowledgement from international diplomats that the fighting is ongoing and strategic in its

locations and targets. This lack of acknowledgement stems from leaders on both sides agreeing

that each incident of armed conflict is an isolated incident and thus will not bring an end to the

ceasefire. For example, when asked about a killing in the 4th Brigade (brigades are territories;

they are somewhat equivalent to counties in states) by a member of the tatmadaw after the

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ceasefire was signed, Gen. Saw Johnny of one of the rebel forces was quoted in the Karen News

(2014) as saying, “We have talked about the relocation of [Burma army] camps based in

villages, temples and churches in our area, at Naypyidaw. Regarding the incident in 4th Brigade,

we will look into the case and make an inquiry in order to handle and resolve the issue. I think

this incident will not derail the whole negotiation process.” This response is consistent with the

ongoing attempts by the KNU leadership to remain on positive diplomatic terms with the

GRUM in order to gain a legal status in Burma (Saw Yan Naing, 2012). It represents a contrast to

the perceptions of Karen leaders and some Karen citizens, who view these ongoing “skirmishes”

as potentially deadly attacks on their homes and villages, not as incidents that will not be

allowed to threaten the “ceasefire”.

Categorizing these incidents as isolated in order to declare a lasting peace between the

KNU and the GRUM serves particular political ends for the GRUM and for the KNU leaders. It

contrasts, however, with the lived experience of refugees. Below is an exchange that occurred

while I was visiting one of the camp schools. To arrange the visit, my colleagues introduced me

to a Parliament of the Karen Refugees (PKR) camp leader who lived about 45 minutes from

camp. After negotiations in Karen and an exchange of money, he arranged for me to visit a

school in the nearest camp. The roads were not paved, and I was unfamiliar with the area, so

the PKR camp leader kindly arranged for a driver who spoke English to take me. My colleagues

returned to Myo Thin and left me as the guest of the leader for the following three days.

This morning, a young man arrived at the house in a beat-up Toyota pickup with a cracked windshield. He asked the leader for money for gas, and after putting fuel in the truck, the two of us set off for the camp. We drove 45 minutes into the jungle. I wasn’t particularly afraid, but it did occur to me that I was completely at the mercy of the PKP and this driver. The driver sensed my realization and kindly acknowledged that although I was alone, I should not worry, because he would take me to camp and back

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again safely. Feeling reassured, I settled back into the cracked pleather seat and began asking the driver about the camp, Karen state, and the music on the dusty cassette tape hanging out of an ancient player in the dashboard. It was during our third ride together that the following conversation took place.

I asked the driver how long he had been in camp. “Since 2010.” I asked him why he came to camp: “For education.” If this were true, his parents

would live in Burma and be waiting for his return. Where do your mother and father live—in Burma? “No. My father dead; mother

in camp.” Your mom came to camp with you? “Yes.” This was surprising, as most children and young adults who come to camp for

education come alone; they do not bring their parent(s). In an effort to give him some room to steer the conversation in another direction if he chose to, I asked a standard getting-to-know-you question.

Do you have brothers and sisters? “Yes, five—I am eldest.” Oh? I sat quietly wondering where the story would go, and he continued. “Actually, my mother come to camp after my father die and my uncle was

disappeared by SPDC. SPDC threatened her many times, too. She brought us with her. I don’t remember much; I was too young.” The detail and emotion he provided with the descriptions seemed to indicate that perhaps he remembered a fair amount.

Oh. Again, I sat quietly, trying to comprehend what the driver had told me and

trying to imagine what his life before and after camp might have been like. After a few moments, he spoke again.

“Most people come from the Tavoy area around Dawei [where an industrial

complex is being built]. There no official military operation but it not safe there, so we come here” (fieldnotes, April 3, 2014, see also IRIN, 2012; Beech, 2012; Dawei Development Co., 2011). The driver’s rationale for coming to the camp contradicts the international perception of

peace in the area based on the ceasefire agreements that had been signed recently. Despite the

ceasefires, people were still disappearing, and the low level of trust between the ethnic

minority groups and the governing body of Burma continued.

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The differences in refugees’ and ID actors’ perceptions of peace and safety inside Karen

state became clearer to me as I reflected on a conversation I had engaged in several days’ prior

while traveling to the same camp for a school graduation ceremony.

I rode in the back seat of a new Land Rover extended cab with the air conditioning temperature set uncomfortably cold. The truck was full of people, including the leader, the KREG director, three KREG colleagues, and two expatriate funders who represented the private foundation that supported the post-10 school to which we were headed. This private foundation was the only financial support the school had, and the White, male, 40-ish expatriate funder sat in the front passenger’s seat, pushing the PKR camp leader into the middle of the seat and displacing the KREG director, who was a well-respected Karen woman in her 60s. He didn’t seem to notice either the social faux pas or the physical reality of the difficulties the director had entering and exiting the back seat. I recorded in my field notes my memory of the following exchange that occurred between the PKR camp leader and the funder.

On the way to camp, the funder asked the PKR camp leader, “There are new

arrivals every week, isn’t that correct? They are coming to the camps for education, right? Where are they coming from, and where will they go back to?” His questions were pointed and a bit rude. He asked reasonable questions but could have presented them less directly.

He continued, explaining his rationale for the questions, “There is no more

fighting in Burma. The [KNU] has signed a ceasefire, and it is time to start going back to Burma. There are so many people who are still living there who never left; the refugees should return.” I interpreted his tone and smirk as a challenge of sorts to the camp leader.

The PKR camp leader’s face looked pained, and he answered the questions

diplomatically in a quiet voice, “It is a complicated situation, especially on the ground where people are responsible for acting and reacting. It looks smooth on the surface, but underneath, it is not so stable. People feel insecure to go back.”

Inappropriately, I entered the conversation by leaning toward the front seat, my

face directly in the stream of the cold air, asking the funder, “What about the land titling issue? None of the refugees have land titles; where are they going to go once they get to Burma?”

The funder said land titling really wasn’t an issue. “All of the countries in the area

have dealt with this already and now was Burma’s turn. It is inevitable.” He indicated he was aware of the problems with factories taking up land on the outskirts of urban areas. “As far as mining and logging are concerned, they are not important. Other countries

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have dealt with this successfully, so Burma will need to do the same.” He didn’t mention dams, although recently a major dam project in Karen state had resulted in widely recognized displacement and forced labor. The driver, one of my colleagues who worked with an environmental-justice organization inside Karen state, remained silent. I couldn’t see his face but sensed an uptick in the amount of energy and concentration he was using to breathe normally and stay silent.

When we finally arrived at camp, I stepped out of the cold truck, breathed in

the hot, humid air, and felt a sense of relief (fieldnotes, April 1, 2014).38

Over the years of spending time in the camps, I realized that while many people arrived

in camp after losing a relative to armed conflict or after receiving threats of violence, in general,

people don’t like talking about these events. While it may be true that people arrive at the

camp for education, this is rarely the sole reason for making the decision to walk to a camp

from inside Burma. Saying to officials that they came to a camp for education makes sense

because (a) often, the person asking the question was associated with education, (b) seeking

out education (i.e., leaving your home to access education) is generally considered reasonable

by Karen people, (c) education in general and students in particular are considered meritorious

by many foreigners, and (d) it saves the person from having to speak about events that are

often deeply painful and personal. Unfortunately, most officials who visit the camps, arriving in

air-conditioned Land Rovers and “meeting the people” for a few minutes, likely will have

38 I learned a good deal by comparing these two interactions. Most salient at the moment was changing my approach from data collection as a function of asking the right questions to data collection as a function of listening. When riding with the KRC driver, my goal was to make the rides tolerable; I had no intention of collecting data. He seemed to react to my silences more than to my questions. As a bonus, for the rest of my time there, we got along like old friends.

On the flip side was the ride to the camp in the official truck with the funder. Rather than stay quiet and

listen to a potentially fascinating conversation, I felt the need to engage. By interjecting with a relatively decent question, an already adversarial relationship was re-enforced, and the other passengers in the truck remained quiet, save the funder. The conversation turned from being an exchange between KRC and a funder (a rare opportunity) to a contest of wills between the funder and me (an all-too-familiar event).

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difficulty understanding this.

This experience matches qualitative research published by the Karen Human Rights

Group, which indicates that people coming to the camps now usually have complex and

multifaceted reasons for making the trip, many of which continue to be directly related to

ongoing violence. Speaking quickly or not allowing silence to have a place in the conversation

likely would have ended the following exchange after the first sentence, which could have led

the interviewer to conclude that there was only one reason—education—that this family came

to the camps. Listening to more of the speech reveals the multiple drivers that resulted in this

family’s voluntary encampment.

If we had stayed in the village, we knew that our children could never attend school, and I wanted my children to go to school to be educated people. We also didn’t have any house to stay in. We could only stay in the forest and we had to flee away when the SPDC came or patrolled around our area, so we decided it was better to go to the refugee camp. (Saw P—, a 47-year-old male from P— village, Papun District; Karen Human Rights Group, 2008, p. 58) (cited in Burma Link, 2015).

Additional conversations with camp residents (fieldnotes, April 1, 2014) and reports

from ethnic news sources (e.g., Karen News, 2015) indicate that there is more civil unrest in

Burma than either the international community or the GRUM publicly acknowledge. The

unwillingness or inability of these actors to acknowledge the ongoing hostilities inside Burma

points toward the possibility that repatriation of the refugees from along the border serves a

purpose other than reconciliation between ethnic groups in Burma. Using questionable

ceasefires and claims of inappropriate use of refugee-camp services as reasons to close the

camps and repatriate the residents to Myanmar signifies at most an alternative motive, perhaps

focused on enhancing diplomatic and subsequently economic relationships between Burma and

the international community; at least, it signifies an inability to look beyond official declarations

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and structures and to try to understand people’s diverse, lived experiences of the same events.

Repatriation and Fractures within Groups

Policies surrounding repatriation are grounded in the belief that the country from which

the refugees fled is now safe for their return, and/or the degradation of conditions in the host

country has led to a situation in which the refugees are no longer safer in the camps than they

would be in their home country. Extant policies and discussions about repatriation imply the

legitimacy of return (Chimni, 2004; Black, 2001; Goodwin-Gill, 2008).

Under the current system, the international community and the host government and

country-of-origin governments determine the efficacy of the change and the degree of safety.

The concept of “safe return” has taken on an objectivist and technical quality, thus

backgrounding refugee perceptions of and recent experiences of safety. This “objectivity” is

based on evidence that includes written documents, such as ceasefires, and official statements

by state actors, such as promises to conform to international treaties and agreements. The

classification of incidents of armed conflict as singular, unofficial acts of violence allows the

objective, official assessment of peace to remain intact while greatly affecting the refugees’

perceptions (Long, 2010; Black, 2001).

Importantly, these acts of violence could not be classified as singular and unofficial

without the cooperation of the KNU. As noted by Saw Johnny (above), the KNU is willing to

describe these attacks as un-coordinated and unofficial, thus assuring that officially the attacks

do not pose a threat to the peace process. The Karen inside Burma, including the KNU and the

KED, enact a different response to events taking place than do the refugees and the KREG, (and

than do Karen living in Burma who crossed the border since the “ceasefire”). It is a response

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that reflects both the particular divisions and power dynamics among Karen groups and

communities, and the differentiated responses of Karen in Burma and those outside of Burma

to calculating the potential costs and benefits of engaging the Burmese state positively.

Understanding these different perspectives requires examining both the immediate

physical situation and the longer-term political possibilities to which these groups are

responding. As discussed in Chapter 8, the education policies of the KED and KREG are not as

unified as was originally designed (and perhaps imagined by members of the groups). The

nation-building strategies used by the KED and the KREG have diverged, and the groups’

differing perceptions of and responses to the realities inside Burma are reflective of this

divergence. As a result, the already-heterogeneous Karen ethnic group is fracturing, creating

additional groups who identify as Karen but whose ideas of who and what the Karen

community is do not completely coincide. The Karen community, like all communities, has been

fragmented for many years, and, as different ideas surrounding the definition of Karen-ness and

how to ensure its survival and evolution come to the fore, members of the increasingly

fragmented group are interacting with each other in complex ways.

In addition to the fracturing within the Karen ethnic group is a fracturing within the

international community, with an imperfect line drawn between NGO implementing partners

and funders. Many NGOs and human rights groups oppose repatriation. A spokesperson for one

NGO said, “in the light of the current fragile peace process and the unfavorable situation on the

ground in Burma, any repatriation taking place under the current circumstance is likely to lead

to involuntary return, either directly or indirectly through cutting off aid” (Karen News, 2015b).

International funders, however, are moving their resources to inside Burma and are reducing

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the funds allocated to the Thailand-Burma border. An administrator for a large group of INGOs

that receive bilateral and multilateral funding indicated that, “The funding available for

humanitarian support is decreasing,” (Fenn, 2013). Additionally, the funder with whom I talked

on the ride to camp indicated that the organization he worked for was re-designing education

policies for the post-secondary programs they worked with to align the admissions

requirements with students’ expected return to Burma and to eliminate students who the

organization felt were unlikely to return (fieldnotes, March 1 & April 1-2, 2014).

While not a perfect division, NGOs are much more likely to maintain offices and have

employees who regularly (on a daily basis) work inside of camps. They are much more likely to

be in regular, close, and prolonged contact with refugees. They are much more likely to hear

fuller stories from those refugees. This is, in part, their job, but it also signals their general

orientation toward working with people and thinking about their needs. NGOs are also,

themselves, not state actors, and are often aligned with or receive support from multiple

states.

Funders, on the other hand, are generally state (or at least statist) actors, whose

concerns about refugees are often more focused on human capital development and on a rapid

return to a stable, rationalized state order. They are much less likely to have daily contact with

refugees, and are more likely to rely on state sources of information. These different

positionalities vis-à-vis refugees as individuals and as people with stories versus refugees as

out-of-place citizens, has significant effects on these organizations’ judgments about the

potential benefits and likely consequences of repatriation.

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Conclusion

After over two decades of encampment, one of the world’s largest refugee resettlement

schemes was enacted in an effort to provide refugees on the Thai-Burma border with a

permanent home. Despite resettling over 100,000 refugees, however, the camp population

remained virtually unchanged due to new arrivals. When the resettlement scheme ended, over

100,000 refugees remained in the camps.

Four years prior to the end of the refugee resettlement scheme, dramatic changes took

place inside Burma, which led international, state, and refugee-level actors to discuss the

possibility of repatriation. These conversations expanded when Thailand suffered internal

instability and a military coup that favored xenophobic stances.

Different actors at various socio-political levels understood the rationale for the

continuing arrival of refugees from Burma differently, and the rationale for pushing for their

recognition or return.

This chapter draws on neo-institutional theory to examine what repatriation meant to

international and state level actors, and it contrasts these meanings with those held by the

refugees. For international and state level actors, resettlement signaled a return to “normal”

inter-state relations; however, for the refugees, it signaled potential danger and oppression.

The refugees’ fears originated in the memories and histories passed down from the tatmadaw

oppression of the Karen in Burma (Chapter 3). These memories and histories were told and

retold via the camp-based history curriculum, which actively worked to foster a nationalistic

pride in the Karen (and, unofficially, an anti-Burmese sentiment) (Chapters 4-6).

Political changes in Burma and Thailand have resulted in increased discussions about

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repatriation. The following chapter examines plans for repatriation through the lens of

education policy. Insights into the meanings of international community expectations, including

citizenship and education, can be gained from examining the planning for the process of

“converging” the camp-based education system with the newly-reforming Myanmar education

system.

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CHAPTER 8: EDUCATION SYSTEM CONVERGENCE

The political changes that took place in Myanmar beginning in 2010 reflected the

GRUM’s desire to be re-admitted to the international community. This is evidenced by the

announcement of democratic elections and the GRUM’s adherence to the results, and the

increased effort to sign ceasefires between the tatmadaw and the various ethnic minority rebel

armed forces. It is also evidenced by the invitation extended to the international community to

provide technical assistance to the GRUM as it reforms its education system. At the state and

international levels, a neo-institutionalist framework helps to explain the decisions and the

actions taken by the GRUM, and their consequences for international engagement with the

GRUM.

This chapter examines the role of the international community in Myanmar’s education

reform. It examines the strategies used by international actors to gather information and make

decisions about how to reform Myanmar’s existing education system and the strategies used to

garner refugee buy-in to the Myanmar education system in preparation for repatriation. The

chapter also examines strategies used by refugees to resist engaging in discussions about

repatriation.

Chapter 8 builds on previous chapters. Chapter 2 and 3 described the process by which

the negotiated borders of Burma created a political state in which all of the inhabitants were

considered to be “Burmese”, the evolution of relationships among the Bama and the ethnic

minority highland peoples, and the role that education played in differentiating these groups.

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Chapters 4, 5, and 6 examined the education system created in the refugee camps,

noting that it became, in effect, an education system of, by, and for the Karen, despite the

multitude of ethnic groups represented in the seven southern-most camps. This was, in large

part, due to the numerical and political dominance of the Karen in the southern seven camps. It

was also possible because of the ongoing conflict in Burma and the GRUM’s refusal to comply

with international norms and treaties.

Chapter 7 details the political changes that occurred inside Burma that resulted in

increased frequency and intensity of discussion about repatriating refugees. Chapter 8

examines the different visions of repatriation held by various stakeholders and the effects of

these repatriation discussions on the GRUM’s and the camp-based education system.

I argue that participatory methods and international best practices are resulting in an

education system planning process that favors the ethnic group that controls the state

apparatus recognized by the international community. In the case of Burma, this means that

planning processes are favoring the ethnic majority Bama. By favoring the ethnic majority (de

facto conflating nationalist claims with statist claims), these methods and practices

inadvertently work to sustain ethnic tensions inside the Burmese state and between the GRUM

and Karen refugees.

Educational Contexts and Refugee Repatriation

International stakeholders, government stakeholders, and private citizens alike agree

that Myanmar’s educational system needs reform. Prior to the political reforms in 2010, the

junta that controlled Burma allocated 4% of the federal budget to education. The education

system was based on a national curriculum and graduates from state-run teacher colleges were

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assigned to teach anywhere in the country, often long distances from their homes and in areas

where they did not know the local languages. Many Bama teachers were unhappy about being

assigned to teach in ethnic minority areas and tried to move out when possible, the curricula

had not been updated in many years, and teaching and learning materials were scarce, low

quality, and expensive. Due to its closed nature, Burma did not participate in international

testing, so there is a lack of data regarding student achievement.

In 1962, the Burmese junta initiated policies to promote “Burmanization”. These policies

were xenophobic and aimed to maintain a pure Burmese culture based on Buddhism. Indian

and Chinese workers who lived in Burma were pushed out, and Burmese language became the

only acceptable language in schools (Holmes, 1967). In response to the Burmanization policies,

the Karen who lived in the Black areas inside Burma developed a parallel education system. This

system used Karen language and drew heavily on Christian missionary practices and interests.

The system was managed by the KED. As described previously, students who attended these

schools received no state recognition for their education, but their educational experiences

were recognized within the Karen community. The KED education system continues today,

roughly in parallel to the KREG education system that is operating in the camps.

International involvement in Burma’s education system. In August 2012, after an

invitation was extended by the new government, UN agencies and affiliates, including UNICEF

and the World Bank; international NGOs, including Save the Children and the Open Society

Foundation; and bilateral organizations, including the UK’s Department for International

Development and Australian Aid, began collaborating with the GRUM to conduct a

Comprehensive Education Sector Review (CESR). The ultimate goal of the CESR was to draft a

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National Education Law that reflected a sector-wide, costed, education plan, itself based on the

results of the CESR. The CESR was to be implemented in three phases: Phase 1 was a rapid

assessment, Phase 2 was an in-depth analysis of the situation on the ground based on Phase 1

results, and Phase 3 was drafting the National Education Law and the costed education plan

(cesrmm.org).

The effort was coordinated by the Myanmar Ministry of Education (MOE) and included

other line ministries such as the Ministries of Defense, Religious Affairs, Environmental

Preservation, Cooperatives, Border Affairs, Hotels and Tourism, and the Union Board of the Civil

Service. The official purpose of the CESR is to “deepen socio-economic reform and further

develop human resources [in Myanmar].” This purpose is aligned with the MOE’s vision, “To

create an education system that will generate a learning society capable of facing the

challenges of the Knowledge Age” and motto, “To build a modern developed nation through

education” (CESR, 2014, p. 1). The CESR team aimed to work closely with the GRUM to draft a

country-wide education sector policy by 2015 (CESR, 2013b).

In 2012, a Letter of Agreement was signed between the CESR, the GRUM, and 16

development partners. Of these partners, 15 have an international focus and one, the

Myanmar Education Consortium, exclusively focuses on Myanmar. The Myanmar Education

Consortium was founded by three international NGOs: Save the Children, the Burnet Institute,

and World Vision, and it concentrates its efforts on supporting local civil society organizations

through capacity building. As of 2014, the Consortium was working with 13 civil society groups

in Burma, including the Karen Baptist Convention. The Myanmar Education Consortium’s role in

the CESR process is to provide recommendations for non-formal education options for children

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in Myanmar. The other 15 partners’ roles include support for post-primary education, English

Language Learning and post-secondary exam alignment, technical and vocational education,

early childhood, and EFA (CESR, 2013b; MEC, 2015).

From August 2012 to February 2013 the CESR team carried out a Rapid Assessment of

Myanmar’s education system. The scope of the project included eight focus areas39 investigated

by technical teams, and the compiled Phase 1 report with the findings and recommendations

was released in February 2013. Comments regarding the findings and recommendations were

then sought from:

“various education stakeholders, including parents, community members, representatives of various ethnic and religious groups, those concerned with monastic education, community-based groups, international and local NGOs, Development Partners, Members of Parliament, state and regional Ministers, and political groups. Therefore, the Rapid Assessment report, published in both English and the Myanmar language, reflects diverse opinions” (p 1).

It is notable that the GRUM officially recognizes over 100 ethnic minorities living inside

Burma, yet the report was not offered in any of their languages. The report’s availability only in

English and Myanmar languages may be indicative of the international community’s limited

understanding of the extent and importance of the ethnic groups and languages inside Burma,

or of their willingness to ignore the ethnic groups and languages.

Interestingly, one key finding of the Phase 1 rapid assessment was “No coordination or

formal network exists between the Government and DPs [development partners] in border

39 Focus Areas of the Rapid Assessment: Quantitative Analysis; Analysis of Overarching Legislation, Policy and Management in Education; Analysis of Basic Education, Early Childhood Care and Education, Non-Formal Education and Teacher Education; Analysis of Technical and Vocational Education; Analysis of Higher Education; Analysis of Education Financing; Analysis of Education Stakeholders and Identification of Partners for Cooperation Mechanisms; Analysis of Publishing and Distribution of Textbooks.

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areas and those with no peace”40 (p 19). A key recommendation based on this finding was,

“Encourage more cooperation between the MoE and international/local NGOs in border areas

and areas that have no peace. … [T]he Ministry should first develop trust from the people and

then collaborate. . . Detailed studies should be conducted in the CESR Phase 2” (p. 20).

The research for this dissertation occurred during the implementation of CESR Phase 2.

The goals of CESR Phase 2 were to conduct an analysis of the Phase 1 findings to

“identify strengths, weaknesses and lessons learned about education systems and good practice, both in Myanmar and in other countries. Based on the evidence produced, the [Phase 2 studies] will provide a set of recommendations for education reform which will guide the development of strategically targeted, costed plans for the whole education sector in Phase 3” (CESR, 2013b).

A description and analysis of the implementation of CESR Phase 2 at various levels will

form the bulk of this chapter. The Phase 2 process illuminates the dynamics that form the

analytic core of the dissertation: how processes of “participation” favor majority groups and

shape decisions that benefit them; how processes of educational techno-rationalization often

obfuscate the political purposes and consequences of education policies and practices; and

how, in the end, international governmental and regional state actors tend to have more power

(e.g., control of land and movement; official political relationships and economic resources,

etc.) that minoritized or non-state groups and tend to work to maintain the statist status quo.

CESR Phase 2

CESR Phase 2 information was gathered by seven research teams, each addressing a

40 “Areas with no peace” refers to territories inside Burma with continuous armed conflict, e.g., Kachin state. No ceasefires have been signed between the tatmadaw and these rebel groups.

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single component of the education sector.41 All seven research teams were to include the

following: “Gender, Ethnicity/language background; Economic status/poverty; Geographic

location (e.g. urban, rural, remote), by State/Region/Township; Disability; Other vulnerabilities,

for example post conflict and migrant communities, impact of HIV/AIDS etc.” as part of their

research (CESR, 2012b).

Ideally, this list required all seven research groups to include diversity and partnerships

along the borders and in areas with no peace; however, by not specifically assigning each team

to visit the border areas and areas with no peace, it allowed the technical teams to focus on the

ethnic majority with limited inclusion of the border areas during data collection.

By listing ethnicity as one of many categories of “vulnerability”, the CESR methodology

techno-rationalizes and downplays the importance of engaging with and understanding the

perspectives of minority groups. That is, the CESR defines the characteristics of the people who

are vulnerable based on internationally-accepted categories of vulnerability and incorporates

all these characteristics into research and development work in the same way, as if such

categories, and their implications for educational planning, were similar.

The decision to incorporate these characteristics into the research design is a rational

one, given that these characteristics are perceived as “universal” forms of vulnerability that

should be addressed in international development efforts (Kendall, 2007; Escobar, 1995).

Ethnicity in Burma is thus equated with “ethnicity” as a universal category of potential

41 Policy, Legislation, and Management and Finance (PLMF); Early Childhood Development and Basic Education (including primary and secondary education); Teacher Education; Non Formal Education (NFE); Technical and Vocational Education and Training(TVET); Higher Education (HE); Information and Communication Technology (CESR-2014b).

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vulnerability, removing it from the particularities of the history of ethnic minority groups in

Burma. Similarly, “ethnicity” is a category of vulnerability equated with “gender” or disability or

HIV/AIDS in the country. Setting aside the question of whether and how this framework

encourages a necessary recognition of intersectionality in research and policy, the modes and

consequences of these forms of vulnerability are quite different, particularly in relation to state

power and authority. By equating them, these differentiations and a careful sense of what

would be needed to understand these differentiations in relation to one another, is lost.

By using a universalizing, techno-rational approach, the CESR methodology appears

inclusive; however, it neither takes into account the possibility that vulnerability may have

different dimensions in Burma than the categories prescribed by the international community

allow, nor does it address the meaning and consequences of “ethnicity” in Burmese history and

contemporary relations.

The CESR indicated in multiple documents (e.g., CESR 2014, 2013b, 2012, UNESCO 2014)

that the international experts working with the CESR are consultants to the GRUM, and the

GRUM is the lead agency. “The CESR is led by the Government, but also relies on the

participation of numerous education stakeholders” (CESR, 2014). As a result of this structure,

which is extremely common in these kinds of planning processes in part because of

international actors’ interest in claiming government “ownership” of the plan, the CESR

recognizes only those entities that are recognized by the GRUM, meaning that only GRUM-

recognized organizations were eligible to provide data, including data on “vulnerable

populations”.

The process of educational reform took place in the larger context of political and

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economic engagement between the international community and Burma, which contributed

additional pressures for international education experts to work toward an amiable solution to

educational reform. This was only possible if the international actors recognized the GRUM as

the exclusive political entity in the territory, defined “peace” as signed ceasefires, and

understood citizenship as a function of state borders. Given the tight timeline for the work (see

below) and the desire to create a politically smooth process, the way that the CESR team

interpreted the requirements for collecting data on these varied forms of vulnerability seldom

led to the inclusion of people from the Eastern border and areas where there is no peace.

For example, the Policy, Legislation, Management, and Financing team was comprised

of a team of international consultants hired by UNESCO working with national CESR members.

In 2013, this team42 travelled to Nay Pyi Taw, the political capital of Burma, to talk with the

Myanmar MOE, held a focus group with officials from six townships near Yangon,43 and

interviewed principals and teachers from a primary, middle, and secondary school in the

Yangon area. To address the diversity of people and cultures in Myanmar, they met with

development partners involved in education, including the Japanese International Cooperation

Agency and three international NGOs: Save the Children, UNICEF, and one local network, the

National Network for Education Reform (NNER) (UNESCO, 2013).

This approach to collecting data from ethnic minority groups strengthened the voices of

the NGOs that were included in the conversations (as noted in the previous chapter, they

42 The team international members were all UNESCO consultants. They included: consultants from the Hong Kong Institute of Education (HKIEd), GEMS Education Solutions, and the National Institute of Education International – Singapore (NIEI). These consultants worked closely with national counterparts on the CESR Policy, Legislation, Management, and Financing (PLMF) (UNESCO, 2013). 43 Yangon is the economic capital and the former political capital of Burma.

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tended to have more direct contact with ethnic minority group members). Given the increasing

importance of NGOs in development settings (see Chapter 3), including NGOs that are well-

known internationally was predictable, and perhaps even logical. The inclusion of a local

network, thereby strengthening this local voice, however, was unexpected. The following

section takes a closer look at the NNER and its inclusion in the CESR Phase 2 data collection.

The National Network for Education Reform. The NNER was founded in 2012 by

representatives from approximately 200 civil society organizations, religious groups, education

professionals, and experts. The founders of the NNER were Burmese nationals who had lived

through the policies of Burmanization, during which time ethnic minority voices were routinely

silenced. As a result, they were concerned about the potential lack of inclusion of ethnic voices

in the education reform process. This group therefore actively sought the input of ethnic

minority groups for the education policy reform in Myanmar (NNER, 2014; CESR, 2012;

UNESCO, 2013).

One of the founders of NNER, Dr. Thein Lwin,44 was a member of the central executive

committee of the National League for Democracy, the political party led by Aung San Suu Kyi

and widely understood to be the main opposition party. Partially as a result of his position,

NNER initially received recognition from the GRUM, which was making efforts to show

appropriately accepting and democratic relationships with the opposition party.

The NNER held 25 seminars in ethnic minority areas along the western, northern, and

44 Dr. Thein Lwin lived in a camp along the Thailand-Burma borders for a number of years. He won a scholarship to study education at Oxford where he subsequently earned a PhD. He lived in Chiang Mai for many years working with migrant and refugee education, and moved back to Myanmar in 2012 to work with the educational reforms taking place.

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eastern borders, and in June 2013 they held a national conference with 1,200 participants.

During my time along the border, I talked with multiple education professionals from a variety

of ethnic groups who had attended one of the NNER regional seminars. They expressed

excitement and hope for the work of the NNER. In addition, representatives (expatriate and

local ethnic minority) from an international NGO45 that had been working along the border for

over a decade attended several of the seminars. There is evidence, therefore, that the NNER

did extensive work to collect data from ethnic minority people and groups, and that their

efforts were widely perceived as legitimate and—if listened to—likely to yield a deep

understanding of the educational (and, therefore, political) situation in ethnic minority areas.

NNER met with the Myanmar MOE three times in 2013 and also discussed education

policy reform with Aung San Suu Kyi and her party’s education committee. Despite not being an

official member of the CESR team, the founders of the NNER were well-known, respected, and

initially received recognition from the Burmese government. After these data-collecting events,

the NNER wrote and sent a report to Parliament and to the government committee overseeing

the CESR process with recommendations for creating an inclusive education system (Michaels,

2014; Soe Sandar Oo, 2014).

In February 2014, members of NNER were invited to the National Practical Education

Reform Forum, organized by the MOE and CESR. Government officials, lawmakers and other

participants were to discuss education sector plans for reforming the public school system

during the country’s transition to democracy. Two days prior to the opening of the forum, the

45 This organization is the same organization that was denied the opportunity to apply for the role of “convergence officer host” (see below) due to the location of their home office.

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Myanmar MOE rescinded NNER’s invitation. According to Dr. Thein Lwin, “We were not invited

to attend the education discussions, but they made the public think that we are participants

and approve of their policy. Our policy was drawn up with input from the public, but theirs is

just propaganda of the government” (Soe Sandar Oo, 2014, p. 1; see also Michaels, 2014b; Tun

Tun Thein, 2015).

Also in February 2014, Suu Kyi declared that her party was no longer associated with the

NNER and requested Dr. Thein Lwin to either resign from NNER or be suspended from her

central executive committee. In February 2015, Dr. Thein Lwin was suspended from the central

executive committee of the National League for Democracy. He continues to work with the

NNER for the inclusion of ethnic minority voices in Myanmar’s national education reform.

The National League for Democracy’s rejection of the NNER reflects significant changes

in political alignments over the past few years. While the National League for Democracy has

maintained its status as the opposition party, it has moved, over the past four years,

substantially closer in line with the GRUM, particularly around issues of ethnic minority rights.

Denying future association with the NNER was a politically expedient move for the National

League of Democracy, as was borne out by the 2016 election cycle during which the National

League for Democracy won a majority of votes and took control of the government. During

these elections, tensions between ethnic minorities and the Bama people rose. Daw Aung San

Suu Kyi, leader of the National League for Democracy party, was noticeably silent on the subject

of the rights of ethnic minority people (DVB, 2015; Myanmar Eleven, 2015; Kyaw Hsu Mon,

2015).

The National League for Democracy’s decision to shift away from addressing ethnic

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minority rights shrank the spaces available for ethnic minority voices (including refugee voices)

to be heard on the subject of education planning. The GRUM’s decision to no longer recognize

NNER meant that the NNER’s work was no longer recognized by the CESR international

consultants. As the NNER had led the work on ethnic minority voices and experiences, their

departure meant there was a dearth of ethnic minority voices and data on ethnic minority

areas made available to CESR. The silencing of the NNER surely also sent a clear message to

CESR members about the GRUM’s willingness to address ethnic minority issues in the education

policy reform.

Participation and Ethnic Minority Peoples

Both the CESR team and the NNER used participatory methods to identify the current

status of education and educational needs in Burma. Each used consultative methods to garner

information from community representatives. The outcomes of these participatory efforts,

however, varied greatly.

Fung (2006) argued that prior to addressing power dynamics during participatory

exercises, it is necessary to decide which groups of people are able to attend the exercises.

Both the CESR and the NNER indicate they value diversity of opinion and seek to ensure that

multiple perspectives are represented. For the CESR, this means vertical diversity, ranging from

government and international experts to local school administrators and parents. All of these

actors are drawn from around the Yangon area, which is dominated by ethnic majority people.

They consulted with international organizations working in ethnic minority areas and with the

NNER in order to expand their geographic diversity.

For the NNER, diversity was defined laterally, by seeking out the insights from school

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administrators representing a variety of ethnic groups that live inside Burma. To hold focus

groups, members of the NNER travelled to the ethnic minority states to meet and talk to school

administrators. NNER may have targeted school administrators because of their in-depth

knowledge of school-level concerns and the likelihood that the average administrator would

have more experience with education policy and systems than would the average teacher or

parent.

The CESR team, as noted above, defined diversity vertically and curtailed lateral

geographic diversity. This allows for diverse social, economic, and political points of view;

however, it does not allow for diverse cultural points of view. The NNER brought cultural

diversity to the discussion.

It is helpful to return to the objective of the participatory exercises to understand the

different choices of the participants and their likely consequences. The CESR is composed of

international experts and the Myanmar MOE. The international experts focus was on technical

information in the context of the internationally-recognized government’s planning processes.

Their purpose is to provide information and insight related to recognized international best

practices that are designed to ensure unfettered access to quality education. The MOE

members’ main focus was, officially, on reinvigorating Myanmar’s education system to increase

Myanmar’s human capital, thereby stimulating the economy in terms of skilled workers and

increasing international recognition of graduates of Myanmar educational institutions.

The GRUM also had a nation-building agenda. As discussed in Chapter 7, the GRUM was

in the midst of signing ceasefires with a number of ethnic minority groups, and nation-building

was viewed as a key aspect of maintaining peace. Having an excess of ethnic majority

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participants was one way of steering the CESR findings toward a nation-building agenda.

For the CESR technocrats, the ideal participants reflected the range of stakeholder types

(educators, parents, school administrators, system administrators) and their experiences with

education in Burma. The ideal participants also spoke English and/or Burmese language (CESR

had access to Burmese interpreters). Finally, due to the time constraints for gathering data and

difficulties of travelling inside Burma, particularly the rural areas, the ideal participants were

relatively close to Yangon, where the CESR office was located.

Because the MOE was the lead organization in the CESR process and the host

organization, MOE was responsible for finding suitable participants. It is likely that some of the

international experts were aware of the limited ethnic diversity in many of the CESR studies;

however, in a country with a long history of expelling foreigners and in which there existed a

real possibility for foreign investment by those whom the GRUM trusted, there was little

incentive, and there may have been some disincentive, to question the participants chosen.

The NNER understood the objectives of the participatory methods somewhat

differently. The NNER is composed of ethnic minority leaders in education who desire to ensure

that their ethnic minority cultures are upheld and, conversely, to ensure that Burmanization

policies are not imposed. The NNER highlights the necessity of including ethnically diverse

voices in the data gathering process in order to inform the nation-building dimensions of

education. While the NNER does address the seven components identified by the CESR team,

their main focus is on cultural transmission and self-determination of cultural evolution (see

e.g., Yen Snaing, 2014b).

For the NNER, the ideal participants had administrative experience at the school level

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and represented diverse ethnic groups from around Burma. NNER traveled to all of the ethnic

minority states, holding focus groups and regional summits to gather information about

education in the ethnic minority areas. The NNER, with over 200 member groups from many

ethnicities, was able to secure interpreters for all of their meetings, which were held in the local

language and interpreted into Burmese and English as necessary.

Both the NNER and the CESR use participatory methods to gather information about the

seven identified components of education from diverse populations. The difference lies in the

facets of the research each chose to highlight. Theoretically, combining the data obtained by

each group would lead to rich insights into the education situation in Burma. However, due to

the political concerns of a variety of stakeholders, the NNER information was not shared at the

official findings meeting.

It is important to note that the participatory processes of these two groups received

different political responses exactly because of what each participatory approach was able to

uncover or highlight. CESR’s data revealed very little about ethnic minority tensions or ethnic

minority claims to their culture, language, and self-determination. The GRUM readily accepted

these data, and they form the basis of the education plan. NNER’s data provided an intimate,

unusually broad and complete, picture of the educational experiences and goals of ethnic

minorities. The GRUM used NNER’s name to display to the public a sense of broad ethnic

minority participation in the process, and then rejected their participation and their data

wholesale. These data do not appear in and were not used to shape the education plan.

Convergence (Sept. 2013-May 2014)

The CESR team of international experts understood that diversity was an important

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characteristic of Myanmar, and as such, it needed to be addressed. A recommendation from

the Phase 1 report was “Encourage more cooperation between the MoE and international/local

NGOs in border areas and areas that have no peace. In doing so, the Ministry should first

“develop trust from the people and then collaborate according to the Nay Pyi Taw Accord.

Detailed studies should be conducted in the CESR Phase 2” (CESR, 2014).46

In September 2013, Save the Children, one of the founding members of the Myanmar

Education Coalition, began working along the Thailand-Burma border specifically to bring ethnic

minority concerns to the negotiating table so that they could be addressed by the CESR team,

including the Myanmar MOE.

Save the Children hired an Education Convergence Advisor to foster “the development

and implementation of the education "convergence" agenda on the Thai-Myanmar border with

key stakeholders on both sides, so that children, teachers, and education officials are better

prepared for eventual departure from the refugee camps and integration into the education

systems in their new home communities” (Save the Children, 2013). In August 2013, Sandra, a

White expatriate female who had lived along the border for several years, began working as the

Education Convergence Advisor. Her credentials and experience include a master’s degree in

public policy, no experience in the education sector, and several years of living in the expatriate

community in Myo Thin.

The term “convergence” is used by international agencies and local service providers to

define the coordination and cooperation efforts of the GRUM and ethnic minority groups in

46 A draft of this report was available months before the published version. The recommendation sited above is in

both the draft and the official versions of the report. The description of the Education Convergence Advisor position

was released in July 2013 (Save the Children, 2013; http://unjobs.org/vacancies/1375998221886).

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social service provision. According to CCSDPT, convergence is “a process of dialogue,

collaboration and agreement within and across borders to ensure all people have equal access

to relevant and quality education and training that is valued and recognized” (2014 p. 3).

Little has been written about the term ‘convergence’ as understood here, but at least

one researcher found the term to be understood differently by different stakeholders. Jolliffe

(2014) noted that in a variety of sectors (e.g., health and education), stakeholder

understandings of the term ranged from complete integration of the ethnic groups’ systems

into the social service systems of the GRUM, to simply a call for trust-building between the

ethnic groups and the GRUM.

I, too, observed these divergent meanings in the education sector convergence

meetings. There were distinct differences in how the concept of convergence was understood

by many foreign experts working for NGOs and by many local people. Most of the foreign

experts understood “convergence” as the integration of the camp-based education system into

the reforming Myanmar education system. The CESR used participatory practices to collect data

to support such a vision of “convergence”, with the goal of making recommendations for

integration.

Based on observations and conversations with local experts who participated in the

convergence meetings, many of them understood the concept of convergence as the first of

many steps needed to build trust between the groups, prior to making technical

recommendations. From the foreign experts’ point of view, the goal of participating in the

convergence meetings was to articulate specific (and hopefully technical) local expert requests

regarding the integration of the education systems, whereas the local experts viewed the goal

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of participation as building trust.

By May 2014, most CESR technical teams had submitted their Phase 2 initial reports,

and comments on the findings and recommendations were being solicited. These findings were

to inform the draft of the National Education Law that was released in June. During the month

prior to the release of the draft Law, I participated in two events along the border that helped

me to understand the CESR specifically and educational repatriation in general from a Karen

point of view. These events were: (a) a two-day workshop at the annual KREG teacher training

and (b) a convergence meeting.

The first event I attended was the annual KREG teacher training workshop. Initially, I

was excited and somewhat flattered to be asked to join. Looking back, I can see that my role in

this event had very little to do with teacher training; rather, my role served a tactical purpose

for the KREG administration.

Annual KREG Teacher Training

School holiday takes place during the hottest part of the year, April and May, during

which virtually all organizations along the border that are involved in education (and some

organizations that are not involved in education) schedule teacher and administrative trainings.

KREG is no exception. In 2014, KREG’s annual training took place over five days in one of the

camps. Fifty-four teachers and administrators from five camps attended. The participants were

hosted by teachers and administrators who lived in the camp. Teachers and administration

from the sixth camp, also a Karen camp, were unable to attend due to the distance, which

greatly increased the cost and the risk of travelling.

The training took place in a building that was made of bamboo with a grass roof

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and a cement slab floor. The walls were shoulder height with open air between the top

of the wall and the roof. The building was perched on the side of a hill, and the dirt path

that wound between the dining area and the classroom was slippery. The outhouse was

not far from the classroom building. A whiteboard had been set up in front with tables

and chairs parallel to the classroom walls on either side. Mercifully, the school had a

generator and the classroom had two fans. On the surface, it appeared to be just

another annual training (fieldnotes, May 15, 2014).

Prior to 2014, EBP (see Chapter 6) had provided the teacher trainings for KREG. For

years, EBP staff would contact KREG staff prior to the hot season and let them know what

trainings they would be offering based on the skill set of their staff and volunteers at the time.

KREG would subcontract EBP and then make arrangements for the teachers to attend. In 2014,

however, KREG decided that the trainings that EBP was offering that year were not relevant to

the camp teachers and KREG elected to provide the teacher training directly, without assistance

from EBP. KREG personnel developed a three-day training workshop and asked me to develop a

two-day workshop.

The organization that funded both EBP and PSES (through KREG) is a private

philanthropic organization rather than a multi- or bi-lateral organization. As a private

organization, the funders were free to express their concern about the Karen nation-building

agenda. Along the border, there is a pattern and a history of private funders expressing concern

for nation-building activities that are ignored by IGO funders. During informal conversations

with members of EBP and their funders, I learned that the funders consider PSES to be “too

Karen-centric” and believed that there needed to be a balancing force; they saw this as EBP’s

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role, with the annual teacher training being a key part of balancing the single ethnic group (i.e.,

Karen only) perspective (fieldnotes, February – May, 2014). Because both organizations

depended on this funder, neither organization informed the funder of the situation, as it was

the funder’s expectation that they work together. 47 While the relationship between EBP and

KREG had been deteriorating over the past few years, this was one of the first times an open,

potentially public, break between the two organizations occurred.

The training was scheduled from Monday-Friday, but because I did not have a camp

pass, I was only able to attend48 during my portion of the workshop, which was scheduled for

the final two days. KREG requested that I give a workshop to the teachers and administration

on how the curriculum framework and assessment standards that KREG had contracted me to

develop could be useful during repatriation/convergence. Though the standards were originally

supposed to be jointly developed, the KREG staff member with whom I had interviewed as part

of the job application procedure and who was scheduled to be my counterpart resigned several

weeks before I arrived and was not replaced. Additionally, there was very little interest from

KREG administration in the standards and curriculum framework, despite the job description.

As a result, I, working entirely alone, used ID best practices to develop a curriculum framework

47 KREG did not allow EBP to attend the training; however, on the fifth and final day (the day during which I was going over the standards), EBP was allowed to visit during lunch. The KREG administrator refused to greet the EBP staff. The EBP staff had assured the funder that they were providing teacher training for KREG as per their contract, so during lunch, EBP staff asked several teachers to pose for pictures in the classroom with the EBP staff. These pictures were submitted with the annual report as proof of having provided training. As a result, the funders believed they had provided a check and balance to the Karen nation-building scheme and continued to fund both KREG and EBP. 48 The KREG administration informed me that because my name was not on the list of approved camp visitors I was not able to attend the training on Monday-Wednesday, and I could only attend my Thursday and Friday sessions by providing the guard with a bottle of whiskey on each of the days I went in to camp. This was awkward to say the least. Several weeks after the workshop, Byrd informed me that my name had been on the list all along and that KREG had never given guards whiskey before.

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and standards that were referenced and compared to the U.S., New Zealand, Thailand, and

Singapore. I added a section to the report that discussed ways to modify these over time, so the

curriculum framework and assessments reflected more Karen thinking and less ID logic and best

practices. I understood that due to KREG’s concern about recognition of a PSES education after

repatriation, it would be helpful to talk about how to produce a quantitative record (i.e. grades)

that showed a student’s progress.

When KREG initially asked me to design and present a two-day workshop, I said yes but

only if they met one condition. My non-negotiable request was that a Karen person, preferably

a teacher, work with me to develop and present the workshop. Having a non-Karen person

develop the curriculum framework did not seem like a participatory approach to the project,

and with regards to this workshop, I was determined not to be the “foreign expert” who came

in and told teachers what to do. Lu Rey was assigned to work with me because he spoke fluent

English, was intelligent and motivated, was well-respected, identified himself as “very Karen”,

and oddly enough, had Thai identification documents and thus was able to travel outside the

camp despite being an official camp resident.

Partnering with a camp resident, even one with travel documents, is difficult. First, the

economy in the camp is such that the transportation fare from the camp to Myo Thin was

expensive (~75TB or 2.50 USD), so unless arrangements were made ahead of time, the camp

residents with travel document would need to pay up front and be reimbursed. For those camp

residents without documents, the cost of transportation increased dramatically and was

accompanied by the ever-present risk of detention by Thai authorities. As a result, the

partnership was marred by anxiety, by power relationships as one partner could travel more

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easily than the other, and by a constant feeling that transportation was the highlight of the

meeting, not the actual topics discussed. We always felt rushed while working and both of us

breathed a sigh of relief when the other was safely on the songtau (bus) headed back.

I met with Lu Rey twice, once in Myo Thin and once in camp. Both times he was polite

and interested in the topics, particularly in the workshop objectives for the first day: 1. The

participants will articulate the strengths and challenges of higher education as it transitions to a

sustainable situation, and 2. The participants will create an activity to use at their schools that

will require students to practice the key skills identified by [KREG/KED].49 He was decidedly less

interested in the second day’s objectives, which involved teachers knowing how to use and

modify the curriculum framework and incorporating benchmark activities into their assessment

schemes. To me as well, day two seemed far less interesting than day 1, but it was definitely

more practical. Lu Rey is a philosopher by nature, so I presumed this was why he was less

enthused about day two.

Met with Lu Rey yesterday. Told him about my ideas…and it occurred to me that as hard as I try, I continue to put forth ideas with excitement, meaning that I (the ID expert) support them. I beg Lu Rey for feedback but get very little. He likes standardized record keeping, so we decided to create a format for grade books.

The gradebooks include spaces for benchmark activities, exams, quizzes, and

homework. The benchmark activities take place throughout the semester and are worth 30% of the total, the exams are worth 50%, and the quizzes/homework =20% (this comes from the previous scales used…all I did was take 30% from the exams (which were formerly 80%) and put it in the activities. My thought was that teachers may or may not use quizzes or homework, but if they do, then they can record them. Wrong. Lu Rey thinks it is best to tell the teachers how many quizzes to give. I didn’t argue as it’s feedback and it’s rare, so I said I agreed and modified the template to reflect this. When I talk to the teachers, my argument will be that the only new thing here is the benchmark activities. Some of the teachers indicated they use homework and quizzes

49 This was based on the feedback from teachers that there were too many skills presented in the CP modules and not enough practice exercises.

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already, so that should remain the same. Adding required quizzes adds another requirement-more new things and more changes by the foreigner. That was the only feedback I received from Lu Rey and it may well be perceived as yet another imposition from a colonizing force. Oh the irony… (fieldnotes, April 23, 2014).

The first day of the workshop, three KREG staff attended, including the secretary of the

Department of Higher Education. Lu Rey acted as an interpreter as needed, and the meeting

was a comfortable mix of English and Karen. We began by reviewing the KREG vision50

statement and delving into the meanings of “peace” and “justice”. During my visits to the camp,

the concept of “justice” had been particularly difficult and several principals had indicated they

were interested in exploring it further. One day prior to the workshop, the Karen Human Rights

Group had released their publication Truce or transition? Trends in human rights abuse and

local response in Southeast Myanmar since the 2012 ceasefire. I brought copies of the report to

camp and we discussed the understanding of peace from the village level, the

military/government level, and the international level. I took notes on the white board during

this discussion as Lu Rey and the participants talked.

After the discussion, the participants arranged themselves into groups, and in a mixture if

Karen and English languages, they discussed the role of higher education in camp and higher

education in a sustainable situation. Examining the similarities between these experiences

allowed the participants to ground their thinking about possible repatriation in their current

experiences. See Figure 7.

50 KRCEE vision: To build a true lasting peace and justice by producing graduates who are critical and creative thinkers, competent leaders, and good citizens who are proud of their identity (See Ch. 4).

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Resettlement, Thailand,

Karen State

Similarities Camp

Get a better job and opportunity

Receive more money

The government supports higher ed (not donors)

You have more options for a career (teacher, start a business…)

University/Higher ed is expensive whereas it is free in the camp

Higher ed can be used to fill gaps in the skill sets of the community

Communication/access to higher ed is difficult outside the camp

Can promote peace and justice.

Knowledge

Skills

Leadership

Further ed

Better job

Share knowledge

Competition

Change ideology/world view

Can promote peace and justice.

Rely on donor

Less opportunity and experiences

Can work for the community in a CBO.

Higher ed is free

Confidence

Can promote peace and justice.

Figure 7. Notes from teacher training session in camp; discussion about the purpose of higher education in the camps and in a more-sustainable situation (May 15, 2014).

The groups that discussed higher education in the camps had a relatively short list that

featured finding employment to work for the community in a capacity determined by a NGO

and increased confidence. Additionally, there was concern over the fact that donors sponsored

the education, thus the education reflected the donors’ beliefs. This primarily reflected a

discontent with and resignation to the use of EBP curriculum modules and trainings. It was also

viewed as being less-valuable than higher education outside of the camp because it was free

and virtually any standard 10 graduate could access it and with enough tenacity, graduate from

it. The answers from this group mirrored some of the conversations I had with teachers about

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the purpose of education at their schools (See Chapter 5).

The groups that discussed the purpose of higher education in a sustainable situation

indicated that it was useful in finding paid employment, engaging in a career rather than day-

labor or shop keeping, and filling gaps in the community’s skill set. They also indicated that it

was valued more than camp-based higher education because it was not accessible to all

standard 10 graduates and it was more expensive, thus it was more difficult to access than the

PSES. Universal access to higher education seemed to reduce the perceived value of the

education, regardless of what was actually learned; years in the camps seemed to have

influenced the refugees’ ideas about credentials. Also, government sponsorship of higher

education was deemed positive, reflecting the PSES’s desire to create its own curriculum.

After examining the purposes of higher education in a variety of contexts, we looked at

butcher paper posters with the Myanmar MOE’s vision: “To create an education system that

will generate a learning society capable of facing the challenges of the Knowledge Age,” and the

Ministry’s motto, “To build a modern developed nation through education.” (CESR, 2012).

Surprisingly, none of the participants had seen either the vision or the motto of Myanmar’s

MOE previously, despite being engaged in the ongoing convergence process. As this was new to

everyone, we spent time going over what it meant and how it reflected or didn’t reflect the

KREG vision for education. Over rice with curries and yeinway jan (weak oolong tea), the

discussion continued as several participants discussed the placement of the Karen people in a

modern Burma and world.

A side-by-side comparison of the MOE’s vision with the KREG’s vision (To build a true

lasting peace and justice by producing graduates who are critical and creative thinkers,

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competent leaders, and good citizens who are proud of their identity (see Chapter 4)), revealed

the different education agendas that appear to be motivating these actors. The MOE’s vision

statement highlights the Knowledge Age, a phrase often used by academics to indicate the

connection between knowledge and economic capital. The knowledge age is associated with a

single version of modernity, which highlights technology, ID logic, and secularism. The MOE

motto reinforces this by using the concepts of “modern” and “developed” to modify “nation”.

The KREG vision pulls together nationalist ideals with international human rights frames

to highlight peace and justice and the importance of identity. This education agenda

foregrounds nation-building and human rights, to the extent that human rights ensure “the

right of the child to access education that develops respect for the child’s parents and her

language, identity, and culture of origin” (CRC, Article 29c). The concept of peace and justice

allows for multiple versions of modernity, with self-determination and the evolution of culture

taking precedence over economic growth, and identification with one’s ethnic heritage

privileged over globalization.

The day went smoothly; I enjoyed myself immensely and believe at least some of the

participants did, too. I felt relaxed and happy to be among colleagues who cared about the

same issues that concerned me. I also enjoyed the friendly conversation during lunch with

teachers and administrators speaking freely, and political ambitions, at least for the moment,

put aside. I had trepidations about the next day though, and reasoned to myself that this was

because I don’t particularly enjoy talking about standards. I resolved to practice my talk again

before arriving in camp the next day. For some reason, I never felt comfortable with this

presentation.

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At the end of the first day, Lu Rey told me he would be unavailable to interpret during

day 2, although he would attend. Interpreting is exhausting work and it seemed fair to give him

a break, although it is unusual for an interpreter to request time off. I asked several others from

KREG to interpret, and learned that no one from KREG was planning on attending the workshop

during which I was to discuss the curriculum framework, standards, and quantification of

learning (grading). They reassured me that there was no need for an interpreter. Only after I

insisted that someone from KREG attend the workshop so that it did not look like I was

presenting a brand new idea without their support did the director assign the administrative

assistant to attend. Lu Rey and the KREG administrative staff clearly knew something that I

didn’t, which didn’t help my presentation come together that evening.

The administrative assistant has been working for KED and KREG for many years,

concentrating on logistics, such as moving undocumented people between camps and receiving

authorization to bring teaching and learning materials into the camps. She is politically

connected and well-respected; however, she has no background in education. I was curious

about why there was a seeming reticence to attending the workshop that was to present the

work that they had contracted me to do. Having talked about my presentation with the KREG

director of higher education whose only feedback was “I think this is good”, I was confused

about the reception from KREG.

The following day, the administrative assistant joined me at the workshop. She

announced to the participants at the beginning that there was no need for interpretation, and

then opened her laptop and hid behind the screen. After an hour she left the room and did not

return. As I began to talk to teachers and principals, it was imminently clear that they had no

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knowledge of what I had been employed to do, they were unfamiliar with concepts of

“curriculum framework” and “standards”, and they were not interested in discussing

repatriation.

My perception was that most of the participants believed I had come/been brought in

by KREG to single-handedly make radical changes. Without a representative from KREG in the

room while I was presenting a new form of curricular framework and assessment, it looked as

though I was acting independently. Prior to my arrival, the participants had requested subject

methodology training, usually provided by EBP. The principals’ and teachers’ frustration over

the lack of subject methodology training was not helped by the perception that I had pre-

empted this training with my own. When asked by a principal why I was working on standards

for this curriculum I answered “That’s what I was hired to do” to which she responded

“Really?!” The principal seemed to have a number of unasked questions revolving around both

my motivations and KREG’s motivations for presenting standards instead of subject method

trainings.

Some of the problems could have been alleviated with interpretation from English to

Karen; however, the administrative assistant’s announcement made it clear that English

language comprehension was expected for the day. Given the peer pressure to speak English, it

is doubtful that anyone would admit to not understanding, and given the struggles that ensued,

it is highly likely that this was at least part of the problem. During lunch, several teachers

approached me and said they were not sophisticated and did not understand my Western

content; worse were the teachers who actively avoided me. After lunch, the PED administrative

assistant asked a teacher who was fluent in English to interpret. We used the remaining time

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for a work session (create potential benchmark activities) rather than any further discussion, so

interpretation per se was not necessary, but it was helpful to have the teacher working with

one group while I worked with another group to explain benchmark activities. By the end of the

day, I believe that about half of the teachers had a reasonable understanding of what “I wanted

them to do” (fieldnotes, May 16, 2015). My trepidation the night before was well-founded.

It seemed to me that Friday, the last day of training, had been designated as the day to

deal with funder expectations, and KREG preferred to relinquish any and all ownership of it.

Friday was the day that EBP had been allowed to come at lunch time and take pictures for the

funder. Because EBP and KREG share this funder, it was important for to both organizations

that the funder receive these pictures, despite EBP’s lack of involvement in the training. It was

also on Friday that I was scheduled to talk about standards, clearly not something KREG was

anxious to discuss, and had I not insisted there would have been no KREG representation at the

training on Friday. In retrospect, I realize that my nonattendance at the training would have

reached the funder who paid for half of my position and for KREG primary education school

supplies. It may well have been this connection to an important funder that facilitated my

limited access to the training. KREG was politically savvy enough to know that there were

certain aspects of PSES that they could not control due to their reliance on funders, however

they were also savvy enough to indicate to the PSES teachers and administrators their

displeasure with these activities by not attending these parts of the training.

Creating meanings for convergence. Comparing and contrasting the first and second

days of this workshop enabled me to see various understandings of “convergence” at work in

the refugee camps and their education system. On the first day of the workshop, I asked

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participants to discuss what higher education meant to them and how this may (not) fit into the

Burmese education systems. I worked with Lu Rey to present topics that might be helpful in

making decisions about the education systems. Looking back on the experience, I realize that

this is what the CESR definition of convergence as building trust might look like.

The second day, I arrived with technical advice that I was going to “share” with the

participants. The presentation originated in the idea that convergence of the two systems

meant a bringing together of the systems into one, and the presentation was meant to

demonstrate a method the teachers and administration could use to prove to the Myanmar

MOE and the CESR that the camp-based education system was rigorous and effective. There

were right and wrong answers and I had donned the mantle of expert, incorrectly believing that

the participants actively supported the presentation’s rationale—or at least were aware that

these discussions were occurring. This workshop was an example of what the CESR definitions

of convergence as merger might look like, which, at the time, I thought was an important

question the camp residents were asking.

I tried to make sense of what happened by going back to my job description and

ensuring that I understood it correctly. The goal of my position was to assist PSES in

preparations for transition discussions and development in Karen state. Task descriptions

included “Finally, at this crucial juncture in refugee programming and central to the transition,

the post-holder will develop an overall curricular framework (clearly articulated standards and

skill proficiency levels and connection to assessment method) which the KREG have deemed as

a valuable tool in transition-related development progress”, and to “Develop a curriculum

framework consistent with PSES philosophy that addresses central aspects of refugee young

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adult needs”. Prior to accepting the job, I had asked several people in Myo Thin about the PSES

philosophy to make sure it matched with mine. According to them and from what I saw in the

KREG offices, it did.

The job description and funding proposal were aimed at an English-speaking audience,

and for that reason, they were written by several expatriates who worked closely with KREG.

The expectation had been that Byrd, the expat seconded to KREG, would work closely with a

KREG staff member and me to ensure mutual understanding. Byrd had worked along the border

for many years, had a master’s degree in international development from a prestigious Western

university, and was well-respected by refugees and expatriates alike; Byrd is an expert whom I

very much admire. Prior to my arrival, as mentioned above, the KREG staff member assigned to

work with me resigned and was not replaced. Byrd was unexpectedly called out of town for

several months during which the annual teacher training took place. Seeing the reaction and

complete lack of commitment from KREG to the work I was doing caused me to wonder what

kind of participatory methods were used to create the job description from which I was working

and if the intended degree and nature of participation were reflected in the outcome. I

wondered if it was written using methods similar to “facipulation” (see Chapter 6).

Was the job description I worked from written in the same way that I worked with Lu

Rey to develop the annual training? Was Byrd asking for feedback and receiving little? Had Byrd

used leading questions the way I had during the meeting to ensure that the funders’ objectives

were met? Was there a shared vision for the PSES schools among the KREG staff, PSES staff, and

funder? These questions need to be asked not only about a single job description written along

the border, but also about the CESR process in general and the technical experts’

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recommendations specifically.

The second event that helped me to understand the CESR process and educational

repatriation was a convergence meeting attended by local experts and international experts.

This meeting was called and funded by Save for the purpose of ratifying an agreement on the

next steps of the convergence process. The following section examines interactions between

local and international experts during a meeting in which participatory methods were used to

guide these interactions.

Convergence Meetings in Myo Sai

In May 2014, I accompanied a group of KREG high-level administrators to a convergence

meeting in Myo Sai, a border town located about six hours by vehicle from Myo Thin. The

meeting was arranged by one of the Myanmar Education Consortium’s founding organizations

that had been tasked with determining ethnic minority concerns regarding repatriation and

recognition of their education system.

As she prepared to attend the February 2014 convergence meeting in Myo Sai, Byrd told

me about the first convergence meeting, which took place in late 2013, six months prior to the

release of the draft National Education Law that this meeting was supposed to inform. An

international NGO, Save the Children (Save), which held a key role in the CESR process inside

Myanmar, was charged with gathering information about and recommendations from the

camp-based education system administration along the Thailand-Burma border. Save had been

based in Bangkok for years and had applied for multilateral funding to create a repatriation

education transition plan. They began to have a presence along the border in 2013 with the

objective of facilitating convergence between the camp-based education system and the newly-

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forming Myanmar national education system.51 A different international NGO52 that had a

presence along the border for over fifteen years and was well-positioned to liaise between

camp schools and international organizations was unable to apply for the funds, as they did not

have an office in one of the multilateral’s member countries.

Save conducted the first convergence meeting in late 2013, inviting officials from the

Education Department of Karen State (KED), which administered the Karen schools inside

Burma, KREG, Union for Karen Teachers (UKT)53, which works inside Burma, the Organization to

Promote Equality for Karen Women (OPEKW), and the Northern Ethnic Minority Education

Department (NEMED), an organization that was in charge of camp-based education for a

different ethnic group (analogous to the KREG) in the northern camps. The meeting was

facilitated in English with no interpretation available.

According to Byrd, in late 2013, Sandra, the Convergence Advisor from Save who had

organized and facilitated the meeting, lacked basic knowledge of the camp education system,

and worse, used a patronizing tone with the education system administrators. The facilitator

also grossly underestimated the knowledge, skills, and political savvy of the administrators and

based the meeting around telling them what they would do rather than asking for suggestions.

When the lecture was finished, Sandra and her team had assumed the administrators would all

51 The timing of the official rescinding of the NNER’s invitation to the Forum (Feb. 2014) and the initiation of the CESR convergence officer position and research (late 2013) suggest that the convergence officer position and research were perhaps the international community’s reaction to the GRUM’s intention to rescind the NNER’s invitation and potentially to closed-door conversations between the CESR team and the GRUM during which the GRUM expressed concerns about the NNER. 52 The international NGO that was not qualified to apply for funding is the same NGO that had sent representatives to the NNER meetings in Burma. 53 All local organization names are pseudonyms.

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raise their hands in agreement and the participatory phase of this work would be done. Instead,

they received a cold silence. To their credit, Sandra and her team realized immediately that

there were problems. To save face, they held the closing ceremonies and smiled as they left

promising to “revisit” the topics. Byrd was preparing to attend the second meeting, held for the

purpose of revisiting the first meeting’s topics (fieldnotes, Feb. 8, 2015).

The second meeting was held on February 20, 2014. Each of the ethnic minority

stakeholders gave a presentation expressing their desires and concerns about convergence of

the education sector. Byrd indicated that Sandra asked questions and took notes. Additionally,

education experts who had credentials in education from Western universities, who had

authored several publications in internationally-recognized journals, and who had extended

experience along the border were also in attendance.

After the meeting, Sandra worked with a locally known and internationally respected

education professional who had worked for a large NGO along the border for over ten years to

draft a plan for education sector convergence. She reformatted the document so there were

five major goals,54 many of which had objectives and activities, and emailed the document to

the ethnic minority stakeholders with a request for feedback prior to the third meeting (NGO

staff, email, March 17, 2015).

Byrd was still out of town during the third convergence meeting, held from May 22-23,

54 The five proposed goals for convergence included: A quality and culturally appropriate curriculum, which promotes peace and unity, is developed, implemented and nationally recognized; Refugees return to communities that support children’s access to quality learning through officially recognized mother-tongue (L1) instruction, so as to uphold their cultural and traditional values; Enable [camp-based] teachers to continue teaching in Myanmar/Burma by achieving recognition of their experience, skills and qualifications; Refugee students have opportunities to access and complete a relevant and accredited quality education and training; and Policy [requiring ethnic groups to be involved in CESR] (Convergence Plan, Draft 2).

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2014, just weeks before the release of the National Education Law that the meeting was

supposed to inform. I attended this meeting with Sandra and other representatives of

international NGOs and the ethnic minority stakeholders (KREG, KED, UKT, OPEKW, and

NEMED). As none of the ethnic minority groups responded to her email, Sandra understood

there to be no opposition to recommending the proposed goals to the CESR. She announced

that the objective of the meeting was to have the ethnic minority stakeholders sign an

agreement with the document she had produced, stating that it was agreeable to the groups

along the Thailand-Burma border as a starting point for negotiations regarding convergence.

Five representatives from the funders of the NGO with whom Sandra worked were also invited

to witness the ethnic groups signing the document. Following is a description of the meeting:

At the meeting, NEMED, KREG, and UKT each sat at their own tables. KREG was represented by three well-respected, experienced and credentialed leaders from within the organization, and two observers-myself and one other Western expatriate. NEMED was represented by two camp-based teachers for whom this trip was their first time outside the camp and for one, it was her first time in a vehicle. Neither teacher was comfortable speaking Karen, Burmese, or English; their mother tongue was Kayah language. The NEMED leadership has been decimated by the resettlement scheme (as noted above, see also Banki, 2013) and these two teachers agreed to attend the meeting despite not fully understanding what it was about. A Pilipino NGO worker who has lived and worked along the border for many years accompanied them to help them understand, but he did not speak Kayah. They smiled and attempted to work with him but said very little throughout the meeting.

KED had three representatives, including the president of KED, an elderly

gentleman with a quiet voice whose presence commanded respect. He was well-known and respected throughout the Karen community for being thoughtful and making philosophically-sound decisions. OPEKW had two representatives, including the director of the organization. OPEKW and KED shared a table. The NGO funders shared a table. Three of the four funders were White foreigners coming from their home offices and one was a Thai national based in Bangkok. UKT had one representative, a well-known, controversial figure along the border, who sat at her own table. Sandra and her assistant stood up front.

The meeting was facilitated in English with no interpretation available. From the

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blank looks and uncomfortable smiles, I surmised that at least half of the participants had difficulty understanding the language. After a brief welcome speech, the convergence officer asked for the leaders of each of the groups present (not the funders) to sign the agreement document that was based on the attachment she had emailed earlier. There was silence and then some quiet discussion in Karen language. The convergence officer seemed to sense there was some reticence to sign the agreement and indicated that the agreement letter contained the five goals she had emailed earlier, to which no one responded. Sandra asked if the group wanted to work in groups to go over the goals one by one; this suggestion received murmurs of agreement in Karen language that ended with tables working together. Sandra went to each table asking questions and taking notes.

KREG worked with NEMED and KED worked with OPEKW. The representative for

UKT worked alone and the funders chatted quietly during the exercise. The KREG/NEMED conversation was conducted in a mixture of English and Karen, with English dominating out of respect for the Kayah speakers, who had beginning-level English skills. The KED/OPEKW table spoke only in Karen, with one representative from OPEKW interpreting Sandra’s questions and answers. Sandra also spoke with the person from UKT briefly and encouraged her to join one of the other tables. The UKT representative joined the KREG/NEMED table briefly before returning to her seat.

After each goal was discussed in these groups, Sandra facilitated a debrief and

attempted to get consensus on the document. By the end of the second day, four of the five goals had been discussed and a tentative consensus (though no commitments) reached. Sandra promised to travel to each of the participant’s sites to discuss the policy goal and to gather signatures indicating agreement with the four goals that had been discussed. I reflected on the power dynamics of Sandra arriving at a local organization and presenting a letter for signature and wondered how that would actually play out. In a sidebar conversation that occurred later in the day, one of the KREG representatives predicted that making the travel arrangements would be difficult (i.e., the groups Sandra intended to visit would not be available) and that she would have difficulty obtaining signatures for “her letter”.

Sandra seemed genuinely happy with her effort, and on the way back to Myo

Thin, in the privacy of a cold NGO Land Rover, she asked me, “What makes someone an education ‘expert’, anyway?” (fieldnotes, May 22-23, 2014).

While the convergence meetings were specifically designed to inform the CESR, I came

away with more insights regarding the repatriation process than convergence of the education

systems. The goal of the exercise was to ensure that minority voices were heard in the

negotiations to bring the camp education system and the Burmese education system together;

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however, the reaction of the participants seemed to indicate that this was not the question

they were interested in answering. By signing a letter agreeing to points for negotiating, they

would be saying they were willing to negotiate.

While the various ethnic groups did not agree formally on recommendations, they did

agree, albeit informally, on the strategy of refusing to provide recommendations. By not

providing recommendations, they were indicating that they were not in favor of repatriation,

nor were they interested in merging their education systems with the Myanmar MOE’s system.

Listening to the lack of response was far more informative than interpreting words and answers

during the convergence meeting.

Words can be used to agree, disagree, or modify suggestions. Silence, however, is

seldom given the same respect. In ID ideology, silence, or the lack of answers to questions, is

often interpreted as tacit agreement (e.g., Sandra’s email to the organizations prior to the third

convergence meeting), laziness, a lack of understanding, or apathy. Interestingly, it is not often

interpreted as active resistance; rather it is seen as a defect or deficit in the participants that

the facilitators must work around.

As I watched the participants resist the convergence conversations and commitments, it

occurred to me that this is what I had witnessed during the annual teacher training. My

presentation on standards and grades was based on the assumption that repatriation was a

fact, just as Sandra’s presentation was based on the same assumption. The participants were

quite clearly telling us (in silences and non-committal half-smiles) that this was not an

assumption they believed, nor were they interested in discussing it (Scott, 1985).

The methods and strategies used during the convergence meeting mirrored those used

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when the camp-based education system was being created (Chapter 4). In the camps, the

processes used to create the education system favored the Karen, the ethnic majority, by

focusing on direct democracy and by obfuscating the political aspects of the education system.

Here, we see a similar process playing out using similar ID tools of “participation”, but the

international community has refocused from the camps to Burma. The ethnic minority group

voice is all but silenced by the large number of Bama voices that are included in the data

collection for education system reformation. Additionally, the international community’s

refusal to engage in or even acknowledge the political aspects of the education system has

fostered an education system that favors the Bama over other ethnic minorities. This is parallel

to the camp-based system that favored the camp majority Karen. Essentially, the international

community’s blind spots have had what amounts to oppositional consequences when observed

over these two time periods and geographical spaces.

Heterogeneity. The word “convergence”, like that of “participation”, was used as a

sliding signifier in many of the ID events and discussions that I observed. Similar to the word

“all” in Education for All, convergence had different meanings for different stakeholder groups.

In this case, the opaque nature of the concept led to roadblocks in policy that were largely put

up through the quiet resistance of the local ethnic minority groups to pressure from the

international NGO.

The local experts are vocal and confident; why did they not stand up to the international

NGO and indicate they were not interested in convergence as a merging of the two systems

and, in fact, they were not interested in repatriation? The following are field notes from the

convergence meeting that helped me to better understand the strategies of the local experts.

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It seems like KREG says “no” to whatever Burma proposes, even if it is a reasonable idea. The fact that an idea came from the GRUM or the CESR means it is automatically rejected. I asked a KREG administrator about articulating what KREG wants rather than simply rejecting whatever is suggested. The administrator agreed and indicated that the educational standards in the camps were higher than those inside Burma. I agreed and said so, indicating that evidence of these higher standards would be helpful in negotiations. She said she agreed but her facial expression told me she did not. As I learned later, she was disagreeing with the idea of negotiating, not with the idea of collecting evidence.

The above conversation took place at the convergence meeting during a break. It

started when I suggested that KREG schools teach Burmese language at the upper levels if there

was ever to be repatriation and eventually a true Union of Myanmar. The UKT representative

was offended by this suggestion and asked me to repeat it. She then explained-twice-that the

KED schools have Burmese as a subject and it is required. The KREG administrator said that

their k-12 schools were in Karen language with Burmese as an elective class in PSES lower

division. The UKT representative walked way in distain/disgust at my ignorance and did not

move from her table again. My suggestion seemed to have touched on a difference between

camp-based education and Karen education based inside Burma. This was a difference that the

convergence discussions also did not directly address: the UKT representative sat at her own

table for almost all of the event, and her interactions with KREG administrators and staff

indicated that a real difference in educational approaches (and, therefore, possibly to

approaches to convergence) existed between these actors but was not going to be discussed or

resolved through the convergence process, nor was it likely to be resolved in addressing the

complexities of repatriation.

I asked the KREG administrator about teaching Burmese and the role it has in nation-building. She indicated that after repatriation, the Burmese government would need to get translators if it wanted to work in Karen state. I asked about bridging capital [see Willis, 2005] and villages with diverse populations; she said if someone moves to Karen state, they have to learn Karen language. It seems the Karen National Union (KNU) wants to have complete cultural preservation and isolation with economic

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stimulus at the same time. There is little thought of compromise. I read a piece in the Irrawaddy today [Lintner, 2014] that indicates this is far from a unique point of view among the ethnic minority groups along the border (fieldnotes, May 22, 2014).

In contrast, further clarification of the KED’s position on language(s) of instruction was

given by the Secretary of KED in an interview published in Irrawaddy magazine in September,

2014.

Q: Your students are taught in Karen language. Do you also teach Burmese language? A: We teach Burmese as a subject, not as a language. Our approach may be changing slightly though, because we live in a country where Burmese is the common-use language—though we don’t want to call it the official language. To live with other ethnic nationalities, we need to be able to communicate, and maybe Burmese is more feasible than English.55 We want to continue a mother tongue-based approach, but after Grade 4 we will try to introduce more Burmese—literacy and speaking skills—and in higher grades it could become the language of instruction (Michaels, 2014).

The conversation about language of instruction highlights the heterogeneity among the

Karen experts with regards to their visions of nation-building. The KED administrators, all of

whom are based inside Burma, are advocating for a mixture of Burmese and Karen language,

whereas the KREG administrators, who are based in and around the camps on the Thai side of

the border, advocate for Karen only. These positions are likely to be reflections of the situation

in which the schools and communities are in: inside Burma, there is likely to be more Burmese

spoken, thus the need is apparent, whereas in the camps there is very little Burmese spoken

and the primary need is to be an independent—but united—group (see also Malkki, 1995).

This heterogeneity was not taken into account during the convergence meetings; rather

55 In its analysis of Basic Education, the CESR Phase 1 report recommends studying the potential “impact of using Myanmar language in teaching ethnic minority students” and "In multi-ethnic communities, conduct[ing] evidence-based research to study effective methods of using mother-tongue-based education at preschool and adding Myanmar language as a supplement”.

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the camp-based Karen, the Karen residing in Karen state and the camp-based Kayah (a different

ethnic group who were originally from Kayah state) were asked to represent camp-based ethnic

groups who may return to Burma. Each of these groups was asked to represent ethnic groups

as if each operated independently of each other, and as if differences of opinions among these

groups were not an issue in the discussions of convergence—all of which were externally

focused on the groups’ engagement with the Burmese education system.

This is a fundamental difference between KED and KREG and was the first piece of

concrete evidence I saw to indicate that perhaps the argument that “KED and KREG are exactly

the same” (see Chapter 4) was either hyperbole or wishful thinking. Political changes at the

international level have removed the necessity of dividing KREG and KED, and the two

organizations are scheduled to merge again “soon”. Despite multiple conversations with a

variety of people about the merger, “soon” remains undefined and questions about the

differences I noticed remain unanswered. These are fundamental differences about the

question of Karen nation-building and/versus Burmese state-building, and the role of education

in fostering the nation-state.

Additionally, the rhetoric of reconciliation is not matched by action, and it seems the

two organizations would be satisfied to remain separate until there was a strong political or

financial reason to merge. Allowing outside fiscal and political events to determine reunification

calls into question the idea of self-determination, yet resistance to reunification could indicate

a division between the camp-based and Karen state-based education entities (interview, June 4,

2012; fieldnotes, Feb. 15, June 1, & July 24, 2014). Such divisions could, both groups know, be

used to undermine their positions. Thus, as with many aspects of the repatriation movement,

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indeterminacy has tremendous internal and external advantages.

Conclusion

The CESR team explicitly sought to work shoulder-to-shoulder with the MOE; the MOE

was the face of the exercise, with international experts acting as behind-the-scenes

consultants. All public announcements regarding findings and conclusions were made by the

MOE. I am unable to speak to any power dynamics that may have been at play with regards to

the internal decision-making processes; however, the overt process and outcomes of the

review reflect international best practices and techno-rationalized agendas for a (nationalizing)

state education system. The Myanmar MOE’s vision and mission statement confirmed

Myanmar’s official interest in economic growth and modernization, with education described

primarily as a way to develop human capital and foster economic growth and modernization as

defined by ID. Such a frame appears, on the surface, to be only weakly linked to political goals

or outcomes; it is an exercise in techno-rationalization, and the liberal, state-centric, peace

project (Richmond, 2010).

The ID experts appear to have understood their role in developing education systems as

providing technical advice for creating an education system capable of delivering quality

education, thereby producing the human capital necessary for the state’s economic expansion.

Additionally, they served as monitors and advisors to ensure that the education system being

developed was inclusive of the populations the ID experts defined as marginalized. ID experts

also framed access to education as a human rights issue, accompanied by the expectation that

the governing body of the state address this and all human rights, as defined by ID and the UN.

For the GRUM, access to international trade, foreign investment, and the international

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community in general depended on its willingness to address the human rights of all Burmese

citizens, including the armed conflicts inside the state borders. To do so, the GRUM sought

ceasefires with ethnic minority rebel groups. The international community interpreted the

ceasefires as “peace” and in turn was willing to believe that the ethnic minority “rebels” had

laid down their arms and willingly become Burmese citizens, including accepting the dominant

language and culture. ID experts read peace into state treaties (Richmond, 2010), and then

used participatory methods to gather data from “the community of Burma”, choosing to see

this community as a homogeneous population (Cook & Kothari, 2001).

The CESR team worked specifically with the Myanmar MOE, and acquiesced to the

MOE’s decision to un-invite the NNER from the National Practical Education Reform Forum

(Forum), even though they were the only representatives for ethnic minority groups and even

though their work had been used to publicly validate the MOE’s. Instead, the CESR team

created convergence officer positions that tasked expatriates with listening to, interpreting,

and facilitating consensus among multiple ethnic groups. By accepting the rescindment of the

NNER’s invitation, the CESR team tacitly supported the ethnic majority and silenced the ethnic

minorities, thus reinforcing the state-building logic of their planning approach.

As a result, the international education agenda of economic growth via human capital

development and the right of “all” children to access quality primary education were realized in

a particular way through the CESR’s policy recommendations. This framing of education led to

increased international support for English language instruction and the inclusion of girls and

people with disabilities in the education system as a way of fostering their inclusion in the

market economy, in addition to ensuring fulfillment of their human rights.

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The nation-building aspects of educational planning, funding, and lawmaking were left

exclusively in the MOE’s domain, and ethnic minority voices were delegitimized. By favoring the

ethnic majority, these methods and practices inadvertently work to sustain ethnic tensions

inside Burma. The arrangement through which border voices were to be included did the same

sort of marginalizing of ethnic minority concerns, needs, and demands as did the processes

used by the GRUM and CESR when gathering data. In both situations, the questions to be asked

had already been determined, and any response, whether positive or negative, validated the

questions. Thus the refusal of the convergence meeting attendees to provide an answer to

Sandra’s questions was strategic; and perhaps remaining silent was the only way in which the

refugees along the border could make themselves heard (Scott, 1985).

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CHAPTER 9: CONCLUSION

This dissertation examines the evolution of an education system in the refugee camps in

Thailand, on the Burmese border. It examines the ethnic minority and majority groups, and

ultimately, the ways in which participatory development practices validated by the “world

society” (re)produce power associated with political dominance and international recognition

vis-à-vis the political state. Using vertical case study methods, it shows that the international

organizations involved in supporting education system growth and (re)formation, whether

inside the camps governed by the KRC or in Myanmar governed by the GRUM, focused the

majority of their attention and resources on the ethnic group in power, leaving little room for

ethnic minority groups to meaningfully engage in the process. This focus arises from the

particular way that ID logics and practices conflate statism and nationalism.

The policy and practical question that this dissertation addresses is: “(How) do

international organizations and the experts they employ work with state and local-level

participants to (re)design an education system in Myanmar that promotes loyalty to a single

nation and that is responsive to and inclusive of ethnic minorities?” One of the subquestions

that helped to provide insight into this question is: “(How) does the camp-based education

system, which was shaped in a political context that recognized camp residents and their claims

of oppression as legitimate, affect or influence repatriation, which is based on international

recognition of Myanmar as a legitimate member of the world community and the refugees as

citizens of Myanmar who are obligated to return?”.

This question points to changing international perceptions of the legitimacy of the

refugees’ anti-statist stance as the international political situation evolves. It seeks to provide

351

insight into how international organizations and their experts work with local experts and

individuals in protracted refugee situations to develop an education system that reflects the

needs of key stakeholders, and then compares these insights to the strategies used by

international organizations and experts when they work with these refugees and their camp-

based education system to facilitate repatriation.

Indeed, when the political situation changed and the international community began to

recognize the GRUM as a legitimate member of the community, the camp-based ethnic

majority was suddenly redefined as an ethnic minority from Myanmar. The international

education–sector organizations and their experts began using participatory methods to garner

camp community buy-in to the convergence of their education system with the Myanmar

system. The method of participation used was designed to ensure a proper response, which, in

this case, was acknowledgement of the question.

The actions of the international community and the GRUM can be analyzed using neo-

institutionalist theories. In this case, the international community considered the Karen

refugees “legitimate” when the GRUM was blatantly flaunting international protocols and

norms and refused to engage with the international community in the “correct” manner. When

the GRUM began to conform to international expectations by signing ceasefires with rebel

groups, promising improved human rights conditions, and allowing democratic elections, the

international community’s perception of Burma, and therefore of the refugees, shifted.

Refugees who were once considered legitimately displaced were now viewed as guests who

had overstayed their welcome and needed to return to their homeland. Applying and removing

the status of “refugee” and “migrant” to the bodies of displaced individuals is one way in which

352

the international community signals acceptance or rejection of a state’s behavior. This,

combined with the economic and political power held by the international community, leads to

a convergence of international norms.

As noted in Chapter 3, these international norms extend to the state provision of

education for “all”. The international community defines education in a particular way that

understands international best practices as an integral part of providing quality education.

Chapters 4, 5, and 6, build on the history examined in Chapters 2 and 3 to examine how these

international norms are communicated to (pseudo)state and local-level actors and how they

are subsequently implemented. Guided by the subquestion “How and why does the form of

participation change as the perceived purposes of education changes?”, this dissertation

employs political economic theories to analyze the camp-based education system, the students

and teachers, and the institutional norms in the camps, particularly as they interface with

INGOs.

Analyzing the various participatory methods used in the process of creating the camp-

based education systems provides a lens through which to observe and critique interactions,

both formal and informal, that take place between actors and institutions at various socio-

political levels. As discussed in Chapters 4, 5, 6, and 8, the communication from international

experts often comes from a place of belief and trust in ID best practices and rationales, whereas

communication from camp residents, teachers, and school administrators is often initiated

from locally-informed understandings of education and its rationale. The participatory methods

used during the camp-based education system formation and modification processes highlight

the coming together of these two perspectives.

353

To focus on the interactions between international experts and camp residents, this

dissertation analyzed three dimensions of participation: who participates, intra-group

dynamics, and the ways in which the results of participatory exercises are linked to public policy

and practice (Fung, 2006; see also Reed, 2008). In Chapter 4, we saw that the international

experts understood “participation” as the inclusion of as many voices as possible and that they

did not take into account the intra-group dynamics, which greatly affected the outcomes of the

meetings. As a result of numerical dominance, the meeting locations tended to favor the Karen

over other ethnic groups. Additionally, the traditional Karen decision-making processes used

consultation, which resulted in the Karen leaders at the meetings listening to the “hidden

transcripts” of the other Karen at the meetings and then making a decision that the majority of

the Karen people present would support during the public meetings with the international

experts and the other ethnic groups. This resulted in a camp-based education system that

favored the Karen and had little regard for the other ethnic groups in camp.

Chapters 5 examined the somewhat traditional decision-making processes that resulted

in the PSES and the adoption of specific curricula; this chapter observes the interactions

between the local experts and local participants (e.g., school administrators, KREG

administrators). Here we noted how consultation processes, which limited the participants to

those invited by the board of directors, were used to create the framework for the system.

Intra-group dynamics were evident in the board of directors’ inability/unwillingness to address

questions surrounding the operation of the schools and the system itself, and the policy and

practice outcomes reflected KREG’s uncomfortable acquiescence to some of the board of

director’s relatively vague mandates and the need to interpret them.

354

Chapters 6, like Chapter 4, also examined the interactions between international experts

and local people. In Chapter 6, EBP invited the PSES school administrators and teachers,

virtually all of whom were Karen, to participate in the creation and modification of PSES

curricula. The group dynamics noted in Chapter 6 showed EBP staff struggling to address

potential power imbalances among themselves, the teachers, and the donors. Ultimately, the

content and form of the EBP modules was largely influenced by the type of participatory

method used, which was in turn a reflection of the power dynamics present during the

initiation of work on the module (e.g., facipulation, if funding were available and needed;

consultation if the module would likely be reviewed by other ID experts and facipulation was

not necessary, and a fuller model of local ownership when the module was not likely to be

reviewed by ID experts).

Chapter 7 presents the political changes that began in 2010 and point toward

Myanmar’s re-entry into the international community. These political changes align with the ID

ideology held by international experts, leading to a willful convergence of Myanmar education

policies with those of the world society. Chapter 8 examines how these changes affected the

international community’s perception of both the refugees and the legitimacy of the camp-

based education system, and how these new perceptions affected the ways in which

international experts interfaced with refugee education officials.

In contrast to EBP, a locally-based NGO whose leadership lived and worked in Thailand,

the CESR meetings discussed in Chapter 8 were hosted by an internationally-based NGO whose

leadership is based in London. These meetings were open only to invited administrators of

Karen and Kayah education management organizations and management from several Karen

355

organizations that worked to support education in the camps. The CESR facilitators had a clear

agenda for the meeting and used power dynamics to their advantage to complete this agenda.

The goal of the meeting was to create policy recommendations for convergence. However

multi-ethnic (Karen and Kayah) resistance to this goal resulted in no policy recommendation

being created at the time of this research.

This vertical case study shows that the international organizations involved in the

(re)formation of a state level education system focused the majority of their attention and

resources on the ethnic group in power, resulting in a tacit approval of the status quo vis-à-vis

power relationships within the population served. In this case, the camp-based education

system was designed to serve the camp population; however, when the political situation

changed and the international community began to recognize the GRUM as a legitimate

member of the community, the population of interest was redefined to be the citizens and

residents of Burma. This meant that the camp-based ethnic majority was suddenly redefined as

an ethnic minority from Myanmar, and the international education-sector organizations and

their experts began using participatory methods similar to those previously used within the

camps to empower Karen actors to attempt to garner camp community buy-in for the

convergence of their education system with the Myanmar system. The method of participation

used was designed to ensure a proper response, which, in this case, was acknowledgment of

the question.

This story of statism and the international community’s efforts to maintain the status quo

regarding community membership and recognition is not unique to the Karen. The Karen, the

Kurds, the Sami, and the Hmong are just a few examples of ethnic groups that are not

356

recognized by the international community and that live in territory that spans multiple

internationally recognized states. As this dissertation shows, statist approaches to education

policy have unintended consequences on minority ethnic groups and their relations to one

another and the states to which the ID community believes that they “appropriately” belong.

In the current statist era, I recommend that education system designers, whether

international development organizations, state governing bodies, local organizations, or a

combination of these, take into account the social, political, cultural, and economic

environment of the entire population, including ethnic minority groups whose territory spans

multiple political states. This is particularly important during processes of educational reform

following prolonged conflict.

Additionally, I recommend a reconsideration of international community

membership/recognition requirements and suggest that international actors consider

recognizing multiple forms of government, rather than only the single statist form that is

currently recognized. The rationale for this recommendation is that a single point of view (i.e.,

political states) can lead to an inability to address or even recognize some of the challenges and

questions to particular educational policies and practices that arise at different levels, as was

demonstrated in Chapter 5.

Navigating the tensions among internationally-accepted best practices and the

potentially contradictory desires of state elites is itself often a difficult and delicate balance.

This may be increasingly challenging when there are only fledgling diplomatic relationships

between the education system designers’ countries of origin and the receiving state

government, and more so when the state government has been deeply isolated from

357

international norms. Yet the present situation in which the Karen, the international community,

and the GRUM find themselves calls for a different relationship among the actors if further

conflict is to be avoided, and the camp-based education system and its actors may be in a

position to help facilitate this changing relationship.

358

APPENDIX 1: MAP SHOWING THE THAILAND-BURMA BORDER

http://www.sergiopessolano.it/galleria/nazioni_img/myanmar_img/myanmar_map.gif

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