Yangon, once the capital of Myanmar (formerly Burma), is a city steeped in colonial grandeur, Buddhist spirituality, and political upheaval. Its history reflects the broader struggles of a nation caught between authoritarian rule, democratic aspirations, and geopolitical tensions. Today, as Myanmar grapples with a military junta, economic collapse, and international isolation, Yangon’s past offers critical insights into the present crisis.
Before the British arrived in the 19th century, Yangon was a small fishing village known as Dagon, centered around the iconic Shwedagon Pagoda. The British East India Company seized the area in 1852 during the Second Anglo-Burmese War, transforming it into a bustling colonial port renamed Rangoon. Under British rule, the city became a melting pot of Indian, Chinese, and European influences, with grand Victorian-style buildings lining its streets.
The British turned Yangon into the administrative and commercial hub of Burma, exporting rice, teak, and oil to fuel the Empire. But this prosperity came at a cost: Burmese farmers were displaced, and ethnic tensions flared as Indian and Chinese migrants dominated trade. By the 1920s, Yangon became the epicenter of Burma’s independence movement, with figures like General Aung San (father of Aung San Suu Kyi) emerging from its student protests.
During World War II, Yangon fell to the Japanese in 1942, marking a brutal period of occupation. The city’s infrastructure was destroyed, and ethnic violence erupted between pro-Japanese Burmese militias and minority groups like the Karen and Rohingya. By 1945, the British recaptured Yangon, but the war had already galvanized Burmese demands for full independence.
In 1948, Burma gained independence, with Yangon as its capital. But the euphoria was short-lived. Ethnic insurgencies, communist uprisings, and political infighting plagued the young democracy. By 1962, General Ne Win’s coup ushered in decades of military rule, turning Yangon into a decaying symbol of isolation under the Burmese Way to Socialism.
In 1988, Yangon erupted in mass protests against the junta’s economic mismanagement. Thousands of students, monks, and civilians filled the streets, only to be gunned down in the 8888 Uprising. The military crushed the movement but inadvertently birthed a new icon: Aung San Suu Kyi, who was placed under house arrest in her Yangon home.
In 2007, Yangon was again at the heart of protests, this time led by Buddhist monks in the Saffron Revolution. The junta’s violent crackdown drew global condemnation. A year later, Cyclone Nargis devastated Yangon and the Irrawaddy Delta, killing over 130,000. The regime’s slow response exposed its incompetence and cruelty.
In 2011, the military began a nominal transition to democracy, and Yangon saw a flicker of hope. Foreign investment poured in, and the city’s colonial buildings were restored. Aung San Suu Kyi’s party, the NLD, won a landslide in 2015, but the military retained ultimate power under the 2008 constitution.
Yangon became a battleground of narratives during the 2017 Rohingya crisis. While Suu Kyi defended the military’s actions at the ICJ, activists in Yangon faced arrest for criticizing the genocide. The city’s cosmopolitan facade cracked, revealing deep-seated nationalism and Islamophobia.
On February 1, 2021, the military overthrew Suu Kyi’s government, plunging Yangon into chaos. Protests erupted across the city, with the Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM) paralyzing businesses and government offices. The junta responded with live ammunition, turning Yangon’s streets into killing fields.
By late 2021, Yangon became a city of fear. Armed resistance groups like the People’s Defense Forces (PDF) clashed with the military in its suburbs. Internet blackouts, arbitrary arrests, and economic collapse forced thousands to flee. The once-vibrant city now resembles a ghost town after dark.
Hyperinflation, sanctions, and capital flight have crippled Yangon’s economy. The kyat has collapsed, and fuel shortages are rampant. The middle class, once optimistic about reform, now struggles to afford rice.
As the West condemns the junta, China and Russia back the generals, turning Yangon into a proxy battleground. The city’s port and pipelines are strategic prizes in the New Cold War. Meanwhile, ASEAN’s ineffective diplomacy has left Myanmar’s people to suffer.
Despite the terror, Yangon’s spirit endures. Underground networks distribute news, artists defy censorship, and monks still march in quiet defiance. The city’s history suggests that no regime, no matter how brutal, can extinguish its people’s will for freedom.
Yangon’s story is far from over. As the world watches Myanmar’s unraveling, this city remains both a cautionary tale and a beacon of resilience. Its fate will shape not just Myanmar, but the future of democracy in an era of rising authoritarianism.