Myanmar Spring Chronicle – November 19 View
(MoeMaKa, November 20, 2025)
The suffering of IDPs and the decline of mutual aid
Every day the news says which township, which village tract, which area saw fighting—and how many thousands or tens of thousands of locals have fled, now needing food, clothing, and shelter. After four to five years of hearing the same reports, such news no longer jolts readers’ minds. It’s not that people lack compassion; it’s that these events occur daily, weekly, monthly across Myanmar, so the brain no longer tags them as exceptional.
In places like Putao in Kachin; Inn Daw and Banmauk in Sagaing; in Rakhine State; in Bago; along the Thai–Myanmar border in Karen State; in Mawtaung, Tanintharyi; and in towns across Sagaing (Taze, Ye-U, Khin-U, Shwebo, Kantbalu), fighting and offensives have driven residents to the forests and hills, or to take temporary refuge in nearby villages. Those with some means flee to towns and try to rent rooms or flats to get by for a time.
Those who can reach big towns are usually people with at least some money; they rent what they can afford and try to ride it out. Those who can’t flee that far take shelter in nearby villages—often in monasteries, temples, or with relatives.
In the early months after the 2021 coup, communities elsewhere in the country still had some capacity to help. Funds and relief goods were not yet as scarce, so when one village was in trouble, others pooled assistance. As war lengthened and spread, that mutual-aid capacity has clearly declined.
Grassroots fundraising and self-organized convoys bringing supplies to IDPs have become noticeably rarer. Help tends now to come through ethnic, township, or religious associations. For example, after the battle for Banmauk, aid for displaced Shan Ni and Kadu communities was raised and delivered by relevant township literary and cultural associations and monastic networks.
Nationwide, the earlier pattern—where one area’s need would spark countrywide collections—has faded. One might ask: what about international aid from the UN or ASEAN? Agencies such as UNFPA and WFP do run programs for food, shelter, and essentials, but they lack funds and access to cover every conflict zone. In places like Sagaing, locals say aid arrives occasionally, but it is far from sufficient and far from universal.
As for strategy—how carefully the NUG and ethnic armed organizations plan for capturing and holding towns and villages—it is hard to know. What we do see is a recurring cycle: a town or village is seized; weeks or months later a counteroffensive retakes it; damage and casualties mount; and residents are forced to flee again. Lately this pattern has become more visible.
Towns such as Kawlin, Thapyay Nyo (Thabeikkyin), Naungcho, Kyaukme, Hsipaw, and Kawkareik saw large segments of their populations flee when resistance forces took control. Those unable to leave faced grave danger during the assaults. When the junta returned to recapture these towns, people had to flee yet again. Some, exhausted by repeated displacement, chose not to run a second time, stayed put, and simply braced for whatever came.
Deciding to flee is never easy. Those who leave risk losing homes, property, and livelihoods. Fleeing to another town means rent, unemployment, and the ongoing costs of displacement. Villagers fleeing from the Dry Zone load food, blankets, and pots onto carts, motorbikes, or tractors, and hide in nearby forests. When they return, they may find their homes burned—or, if conditions aren’t right, they may be caught, tortured, or killed while trying to check on the village.
Local populations have often energetically supported resistance offensives to seize towns and territory. But when seizure and loss repeat—more than once—the toll on residents becomes crushing. Resistance forces will need to factor in these realities of community life and resilience when planning future operations.