Not even one percent of the 46 million people in the Union of Myanmar can read this article online.
Unlike neighboring countries India and Thailand, where technology is making inroads, Myanmar's military dictatorship has actively kept Internet access out of bounds from its citizens.
The military junta -- the State Peace and Development Council -- has been so effective in closing down Myanmar (formerly Burma) that it has been included in the "top 20 enemies of the Internet" list released by Reporteurs Sans Frontieres last year.
According to the 2000 Amnesty International report on human rights violations, there are "at least 19,000 prisoners in Burma, 700 of whom were being held for 'national security' reasons. Prison conditions amounting to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment continue to be reported."
To maintain the status quo, the junta keeps a tight reign on all communication systems in the country.
Telephone lines are tapped, and fax machines, modems, computers and satellite dishes have to be registered with the government. Any sort of unauthorized use or possession of "illegal" devices result in severe penalties and imprisonment.
"There is only one main government-run news agency in Burma, and even there we don't use computers -- only typewriters," said a Burmese student currently in San Francisco requesting anonymity. "The three newspapers, and the two radio and television stations feed off the news agency, and together, act as mouthpieces for the junta."
"There have been instances of people who get 15 years in jail, just for using a fax machine or installing a satellite dish without permission," continued the student.
"The junta tries to subdue the citizens by keeping them in fear. But we still want news from outside so we try and tune into BBC, VOA and Democratic Voice of Burma (a Norway-based radio station) -- the broadcast is monitored by the military intelligence and some portions of the news are scrambled."
Given the fact that the junta's stronghold depends upon their control over the flow of information, the advent of the Internet posed a serious and immediate cause for concern.
In 1996, the SPDC passed a "Communication Computer Law" that enforces seven- to 15-year imprisonment on anyone who tries to use the Internet without prior sanction from the Ministry of Communication, Posts and Telegraph.
"E-mails have to go through a government-monitored server," said another Burmese student living in San Francisco. "And it is impossible for ordinary individuals to get a line."
"First priority is given to government officials and organizations, then to foreign embassies and foreign businesses and finally to certain local businesses. When I want to send an e-mail, I need to take the information on a floppy disk to an office that has an e-mail server and then pay $1 per page. And all the data has to be text only."
The nervous regime has squelched the possibility of connecting to an outside ISP by making international calls too expensive to afford on a regular basis.
The average income of a government employee in Myanmar is $25 a month; applying for an international calling facility costs $1,000 and calls to the United States are as steep as $50 for five minutes.
While people in the country have a vague idea about the possibilities of the Internet, activists and pro-democracy groups working from outside say that the connectivity a Web address and e-mail provides has been vital in bringing the diffused Burmese community together.
"The Internet has been irreplaceable in helping us come together and communicate as a group," said Larry Dohrs, an activist working with the Free Burma Coalition. "The fact that information moves faster online enables us to always have someone on the ground, whether in Ireland or San Jose or Japan."
The regime is not oblivious to the importance of having a Net presence. Myanmar.com, "the only official website for Burma," invites tourists to the golden land in four languages and with a few clicks one may even stumble upon a five-page rant on "American interference in the internal affairs of Myanmar."
The New Light of Myanmar, the junta's online English newspaper, carries an endless barrage of military propaganda.
The Myanmar Times' online edition recently celebrated the opening of a new "i-cafe" in Yangon (Rangoon), calling it "a place where cake and coffee is served with an info-technology twist" -- the writer carefully avoided the forbidden "I" word -- but extolled at some length on the "wide assortment of games" the cafe will offer its members.
"The military uses the Net aggressively to push their point of view," Dohrs said. "They understand the usefulness of e-mail lists. The print editions of the newspapers might have several anti-NLD stories but they never really make their way to the websites. We have not heard of anyone who has actually found an Internet cafe that offers access in Burma."
The junta is making claims of allowing lenient access soon, but activists see it as a mere facade.
Individuals will still have to obtain a license from the MPT -- currently the only Internet server in the country -- and the government will monitor content for any "anti-nationalistic" sentiment. Facts are murky, but initial connections might cost anything from $300 to $1,000, followed by a $3 to $5 per-hour user charge, according to different sources.
"Governments are supposed to deliver services to people," said Douglas Steele, editor of BurmaNet News, based in Japan. "This is more of an armed gang. Besides, the junta is being dragged into getting Net access because of their membership with the Association of South East Asian Nations. Merely because of this involvement, there are at least 300 people in the government who have to have e-mail."
Steele started the electronic newspaper in 1994 -- he assimilates news from Burma using various sources and sends it out in an e-mail newsletter to 2,000 mailboxes each day.
"There are a number of groups that have access to information inside the country -- I use them quite actively," Steele said. "There are people who travel into Burma frequently. We do not hire people from within, but most of the groups I work with have networks in Burma and they become visible on the borders."
"The junta has to now make a trade-off like China did," Dohrs said. "They want in on the benefits of e-commerce but that would mean free flow of information into the country. They are not willing to risk anything for commercial gain."
The information that is coming out of Myanmar and making its way around the world in a single day is undoubtedly making the regime edgy. A new set of Internet regulations was announced on Burmese television by the MPT on Jan. 20, explicitly prohibiting citizens from using the Web for political speech.
The junta keeps a close watch on all the pro-democracy newsgroups and mailing lists. In August this year, a general in their army criticized their practices at a business seminar in Yangon (Rangoon).
The information was leaked out from within the country and circulated on Free Burma Coalition's mailing list. BurmaNet eventually picked up the story and a couple of days later Zaw Tun was sacked and put under house arrest.
"They will let the Net in as they want foreign investment in the country -- e-commerce is too tempting," Steele said. "Right now, the situation for them is like a rope with a noose on either end -- and to us activists, it does not matter which end they hang themselves on."
BurmaNet is now being translated into Burmese, a step Steele hopes will be the key to reaching several more people inside Burma.
"Now, there are other ways of getting information through," Steele said.
"Burma is asserting control by being primitive; so they might confiscate a laptop at the airport, or look for video and audio tapes or disks," he added. "But these days, we routinely carry around more megabytes of memory, like maybe on a palm pilot. Or the new Walkmans that include MP3 players -- they are as small as a pen. The authorities are not sophisticated enough to figure all this out."
