These pressures grew over time, and the reformist government under President Thein Sein (2011–16) finally recognised that to hold the state together, there was a need for some form of federalism and a degree of local authority previously absent under centralised control.

The term ‘federalism’ had been anathema to the military, which since 1963 had said it was the first step toward minority secession.

The move to federalism, however disparate, did indeed lead to increased ethnic recognition and self-awareness. It included the internal redrawing and reinterpretation of the bounds of each group’s cultural history, linguistics and religion, reflecting strong feelings of vulnerability against the onslaught or fear of majority prominence.

This cultural vulnerability was evident not only among ethnic and religious minorities, but also among the two-thirds majority Burman (Bamah) population. This has become manifest, among other situations,  in two related but separate movements: in an anti-Muslim sentiment among the Burmans and in virulent antipathy and eventual military confrontations with and against the Rohingya Muslim minority peoples along the Bangladesh frontier.

Non-Rohingya Muslims are scattered throughout the country in urban centres and along communications routes. They are said to constitute some 4 per cent of the population, but this may be underestimated.

The Burmans feel they have been economically exploited by the Muslims in business, and the latter believe they have suffered severe discrimination by the Burmans. There are no Muslims (or Christians) ranked as colonel or above in the military. The latter are also said to have birth rates higher than the majority group.

This Burman fear and vulnerability has led to anti-Muslim movements, informal boycotts of Muslim shops, legislation limiting Buddhist conversions to Islam and the size of Muslim families, and monogamy. The cry is that as Muslims overwhelmed Buddhists in India (Buddhism’s home where it has essentially disappeared), they will do the same in Myanmar.

But the most severe problem, which has generated regional and even global concerns, has been the plight of the Rohingya minority. The Rohingya are a group of about a million Muslims on the Myanmar side of the border with Bangladesh, and they are identified by the government and the Burman majority as ‘foreigners’ — illegal Bengalis who do not belong in the state.

Even the term ‘Rohingya’ is rejected by the state, for if they are identified as an internal ethnic group they would automatically be qualified for citizenship under the 1982 citizenship law.

The Rohingya are the most deprived of any group in East Asia. They fled Burmese police harassment and violence across the frontier in the 1970s and again in the 1990s — over 200,000 in each instance. Many were returned under UN auspices.

The Rohingya claim to have been resident in the region for centuries, and there is evidence that some Muslims have indeed done so. But the government claims that they immigrated when Burma under the British was a province of India until 1937, during fighting in World War II and finally during the war for Bangladesh independence.

The modern militarisation of the Rohingya problem began in October 2016 with a very modest Rohingya raid on the Burmese military. Repression followed and the problems mushroomed with coordinated Rohingya attacks by the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army on military bases in the region on 25 August 2017. Some observers charged Saudi and Pakistani involvement.

The military’s response was disproportionate to the threat, and it forced over half a million Rohingya to flee to Bangladesh. Over 200 villages were burned. Evidence abounds for these events, though the number of deaths is undocumented.

The most recent attacks took place the day after a special inquiry panel led by former UN secretary-general Kofi Annan reported on earlier incidents and offered recommendations for alleviation of the situation.

Nobel Laureate, State Counsellor and Foreign Minister Aung San Suu Kyi, brought together the diplomatic community in Naypyitaw to explain the situation on 19 September. She effectively sidestepped the issue of military violence, misstated some facts and further diminished her international role as an icon of democracy — a title she claims she does not want but in which she seemingly revels.

No matter how much the local population might have applauded the content when it was released, it had the opposite impact on the foreign community to what was intended; It further increased international suspicions about the Burmese military and reduced whatever modest international hope may have existed for amelioration of the problems.

Aung San Suu Kyi is only in charge of part of a dual government. Through her political party (the National League for Democracy) she controls the legislature, but she lacks the power to amend the constitution. The military controls the army and police forces, the intelligence community, minority affairs, and administration down to the local level.

There is little if any trust between these two groups and their leaders. Aung San Suu Kyi herself has not vigorously attempted to build such confidence, instead confronting and attempting to outflank the military.

She cannot confront the military directly, and thus is in a most difficult position. If she goes too far, the constitution provides for a military takeover. If she avoids confrontation, she loses international support. In either case, the Rohingya suffer.

Though Aung San Suu Kyi has claimed that the ‘peace process’ — the resolution of minority rebellions — is her highest priority, the outlook is dubious at the national level and remains even more grim and intractable in Rohingya regions. International confidence in her administration, in foreign investment, and in the future of a democratic transition — always difficult in any state undergoing change — are now even more hazy.

David I Steinberg is Distinguished Professor of Asian Studies Emeritus at Georgetown University.