Desperate for information, she turned to the television networks and the mainstream media, only to find them overly broad, general, too out there. The one thing that spoke to her as she faced the void: the network of expatriate Burmese Web sites stocked with invaluable, up-close details that helped her make sense of the devastation before her sister finally called out with the news that they’d lost a roof but were otherwise OK.
“These sites are hugely important for us,” Mya Moeswe said. “It’s often the only thing we know.”
Part newsstand, town hall, bulletin board and cheerleader, these virtual communities have played a vital role in easing heartaches in the last week, managing to evade the long arm of the cyber police and thwart an isolated, repressive regime to bring news and personal information to the world.
Myanmar, which is also known as Burma, has one of the world’s most censored media, according to Committee to Protect Journalists, a watchdog group, with a tightly controlled official press and Internet filtering that blocks Google and Yahoo e-mail, the BBC and the diaspora Web sites.
In this environment, news gathering for the expatriate Web sites is done by informal networks of anywhere from a handful to several hundred volunteers inside Myanmar sending stories, tidbits, video clips and still shots out through Internet cafes, public phones or with departing travelers.
Some are given equipment and a few hours in reporting basics; others find their own way. While the journalistic standards vary widely, some participants even call police stations and government officials for comments or a response.
In September, when pro-democracy monks in Myanmar rose up against the regime, these ragtag bands often had the best footage worldwide.
In this crisis, their role has been less newsworthy. But with the country battling power and Internet blackouts, an information vacuum and the official 22,000 death toll expected to rise sharply, their role arguably has been invaluable personally to the estimated 3 million to 5 million Burmese overseas.
“The diaspora media has been critical,” said Aung Naing Oo, a political analyst in Thailand. “By using traditional networks of friends, they were able to get firsthand information about the cyclone.”
Mizzima.com, one of the more popular expatriate Web sites, weathered its own storm last week.
Under the onslaught of 4 million hits in two days, Mizzima’s servers crashed, forcing it temporarily to relocate its virtual community, even as it remained proud of its coverage. “It got overloaded,” said Soe Myint, editor of the New Delhi-based operation, which has 30 employees. “But starting at 7 a.m. the day the storm hit, we did near-hourly updates, complete with photos and news.”
Many editors and founders of the expatriate sites are exiled political dissidents, which can color coverage. Soe Myint, for instance, served three months in an Indian prison for a 1990 “nonviolent” hijacking aimed at drawing attention to Burma’s repressive policies.
Perhaps in part because of this, the sites say they suffer periodic attacks from Burmese government hackers amid unconfirmed claims that 1,000 low-level military officials have been trained in Russia to create and spread computer viruses, crash Web sites and launch disinformation campaigns.
Thailand-based Irrawaddy, which has had 9 million hits in the past week, saw its Web site crash for several days in September in what it believes was an attack by the Myanmar regime.
“They don’t like me,” said Myint Hlaing, founder of five-year old Burma Today, based in New York. “Last year they hacked us, sent us viruses and totally blocked our site. They’re very good.”
At other times, the government takes a more direct approach. Periodically, Burma Today receives e-mailed comments that it posts only negative news, is selfish and profits when tarnishing the country’s global image. Myint Hlaing, who supports the site with his own modest wage as an office worker, said he responds that open debate ultimately makes for a better Myanmar. “I hope to change their mind-set,” he said.
But Web site operators also believe that some senior officials carefully read their sites to find out what is happening in their own country and abroad.
In the wake of September’s brutal crackdown, some of the diaspora Web sites saw two-thirds of their Burmese volunteers arrested or intimidated. Since then, most of the human networks have been rebuilt as Web sites express admiration for the bravery, resiliency and willingness to perform these unsung heroes possess, often at great personal risk.
Vigilance has remained tight, with cyber cafe owners under increasing pressure to monitor their customers. Under a 1996 law, these businesses are required to install special software that logs user activity every five minutes. In practice, however, proxy servers and other technological tools allow paths around these barriers, ensuring that more news seeps out of the country.
“When I was there, everyone in the cafes (was) accessing forbidden Web sites,” said Shawn Crispin, Asia program consultant with the Committee to Protect Journalists, who recently completed a report on the subject. “I even downloaded a video on YouTube of monks protesting to see what would happen, but no one was there.”
The sites continue to break stories. Mizzima was among the first over the last week to contradict the government’s low initial death toll of just 351.
Above all since the cyclone hit, the sites provided reassurance. “We’re not a relief mission,” said Irrawaddy founder Aung Zaw. “But a lot of people overseas are desperate for information, and we try to help them as much as possible.”
