Fleeing persecution for resisting the military regime, businessmen in exile wage an economic battle against the military, even if it means starting over in a foreign land

Text and photos by Taryn Ng and Anis Nabilah Azlee

MAE SOT, Thailand — During the twelve hours Mr Maung Maung (not his real name), 42, was awaiting interrogation three years ago, he thought he was already a dead man.

“If you can come out of questioning alive, you win because you did not die,” a political prisoner he had met there told him. 

The businessman went into hiding in March 2021 after the military junta put him on its wanted list for leading more than 3,000 people in the Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM). His cover was blown when his name appeared on a guesthouse register in Myanmar’s Yangon.

The CDM began in February 2021 following Myanmar’s military coup, sparking a nationwide campaign of strikes and protests aimed at crippling the military’s rule.

Since the coup, many opponents of the military regime, including Mr Maung, have been targeted. Nearly 29,600 people have been arrested and 22,300 have been detained, according to the Assistance Association of Political Prisoners (AAPP), a Thailand-based rights group founded by Burmese former political prisoners living in exile.

When Mr Maung was called in for questioning in January 2022, torture was not involved to his surprise, and he was released in just two hours — more urgent case had distracted the military officials, and they realised they had mistaken him for another suspect with the same name. 

The moment he got home, he grabbed his most vital documents, and fled. He knew that if he were to be caught again, that would be the end. Countless others had already vanished under brutal interrogations, broken by torture and death threats.

To disguise his identity, he burned the mole on his nose with acid, shaved his head, and donned a monk’s robe.

He is one of many business owners involved in the CDM targeted by the military and forced to flee.

An hour later, outraged soldiers stormed his house after realising that Mr Maung was also a wanted man. But it was too late – he had already slipped across the border into Thailand.

Rebuilding amid resistance 

Though he escaped the military’s wrath, a raid on the divorcee’s home put his two young sons — who had been left in his parents’ care — in grave danger. Mr Maung resolved to smuggle them across the border in disguise, a harrowing journey that included his then nine-year-old son being abandoned by a guide, whom he later found by chance at a mall.

Today, he runs a modest car wash and is setting up a café beside it — a far cry from the business empire he once commanded in Myanmar, which included a stone crushing mine, a transport company, a car service centre, and board positions at three construction firms, overseeing up to 200 employees.

In 2022, Mr Maung was offered political asylum – legal protection for those fleeing persecution – by Norway, Sweden, and New Zealand. But he turned them down, determined to continue supporting Myanmar’s resistance.

Nonetheless, starting over in Mae Sot was daunting. 

After four years without work due to his involvement in the resistance, Mr Maung had to relearn his trade while navigating Thailand’s complex legal system as a migrant business owner.

Last October, several regrouped in exile to form the Myanmar Employers’ Union (MEO), an employers’ union with over 40 members that aims to provide a support network for businesses affected by military rule.

Secretary-general and co-founder Walton, who only goes by one name, was once an education entrepreneur who ran language learning centres. He fled Myanmar last year to avoid forced conscription. 

Now based in Mae Sot, he teaches languages remotely while leading MEO, coordinating members to support businesses still operating under military rule, as well as those in exile.

Since the 2021 coup, Myanmar has seen the weakest growth in Southeast Asia. Businesses grapple with military crackdowns, a shrinking workforce under the conscription law, and frequent cuts to power, internet, and banking. 

“The military takes whatever and whoever they want,” said Mr Walton, describing how conscription has deepened the crisis.

“The labour force has already been ruined, and there is fear and instability in communities and workplaces… even ethical businesses are being suffocated, not by international pressure, but by the regime’s own actions,” he added.

With the shared goal of toppling the military, MEO works with Myanmar’s exiled shadow government — the National Unity Government — and labour unions to report military abuses to the International Labour Organisation (ILO), a United Nations agency that oversees workers’ rights.

This year, MEO’s efforts contributed to a rare rebuke from the ILO last June, which urged governments, unions, and employers worldwide to cut ties with countries that may be enabling its military’s forced labour practices. 

The measure is not legally binding but carries international weight. It has only been used three times in the ILO’s century-long history — reserved for cases where a country refuses to end serious labour rights abuses.

The resolution stated that Myanmar’s military had not shown “any sign of meaningful acknowledgement” of the recommendations made after a United Nations investigation in 2023 found widespread violations of international conventions of forced labour and freedom of association in Myanmar.

Beyond documenting abuses, MEO builds global partnerships, trains employers, and promotes ethical practices in hopes of being a voice for Myanmar employers. Tapping into their network of entrepreneurs, they help others flee Myanmar and restart their businesses abroad, sharing experiences from exile.

Dr Jared Bissinger, visiting fellow with the Myanmar Studies Programme at ISEAS–Yusof Ishak Institute and research lead at Catalyst Economics, said MEO has a vital advocacy role to play as only employers like Mr Walton can speak on the devastating effects of the military’s economic policies on businesses.

“You care about people in Myanmar, you care if they put food on the table, so you have to care about businesses, you have to care about jobs, you have to care about trade. How else would medicine get into the country? It’s all interconnected,” he said.

He noted that businesses in Myanmar are often viewed as being linked to the military. While some have aligned with the military and prospered, he stressed that they are a small minority; most are “just getting by”, with no ties to the regime.

“There are many businesses that have paid a very dear price for working towards the same goals that many workers, trade unions, and non-governmental organisations have,” he said.

Though the struggle shows few signs of ending, thinking of the suffering of the people in Myanmar, and knowing that his sons are safe, keeps Mr Maung working hard. 

He dreams of returning to Myanmar one day to help rebuild the country.

“I don’t have big hopes for my family, I have no more ego. It’s no longer about myself, my sons or my parents when so many people in Myanmar are facing difficulties — everyone is my family,” Mr Maung said.

“I am just thankful that my sons live in Thailand peacefully now. They get education, good health. I don’t hope for anything else — that’s the best thing I can get.” 

This article is part of a package produced by a group of final-year undergraduates from Nanyang Technological University’s Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information, for the programme Going Overseas For Advanced Reporting, or Gofar. They reported from a town called Mae Sot at the Myanmar-Thailand border in July and August 2025. There, they met migrants and refugees displaced by six decades of civil war in Myanmar and are rebuilding their lives in Thailand.