Photo – AFP
Any serious assessment of the current trajectory of the National Unity Government (NUG) must begin with a reflection on the political character and governing instincts of the National League for Democracy (NLD). This is not an exercise in dismissal, but in clarity. If the NUG is, in many ways, a continuation of the political leadership shaped under the NLD, then it is necessary to ask whether the habitual practices, assumptions, and structural tendencies of that leadership are aligned with the demands of a real federal transformation.
The central question is not whether the NLD spoke of federalism, but whether it ever saw it as a political commitment requiring structural change. The record suggests otherwise. During its time in government, the NLD did not demonstrate a sustained or serious commitment to building a federal union. Its constitutional reform efforts, particularly those undertaken in 2019, remained limited in scope and avoided the core issues that define federalism, namely, the redistribution of power between the Union and the states, and the recognition of meaningful self-rule for ethnic nationalities. Provisions that concentrated authority at the center were left largely untouched, and reforms that could have enabled greater state autonomy were not meaningfully pursued. Even in its 2020 election platform, federalism appeared more as a rhetorical gesture than a structured political agenda.
This pattern reflects more than strategic caution; it reveals a deeper discomfort with the implications of federalism itself. Federalism requires not only the decentralization of authority, but also a willingness to share power constitutionally in ways that fundamentally alter the nature of the Union. Yet the NLD’s political imagination has long been shaped by a conception of the Union that is centralized, cohesive, and guided from the top. Federalism, in this view, is not rejected outright, but it is deferred and treated as something to be addressed after democracy is secured. Such sequencing is not neutral. It effectively postpones the structural changes that federalism demands. In doing so, it preserves the very imbalances, in terms of power and representation, that have historically driven conflict.
These tendencies were also visible in the NLD’s governing practices. During its time in office, the political space did not expand in ways that allowed for meaningful participation by ethnic political actors. On the contrary, relations with ethnic parties were often strained, and opportunities to recognize their electoral mandates were not always taken. The appointment of chief ministers remained centrally controlled, reinforcing the perception that state governments were extensions of the Union rather than expressions of local political will. Internally, the party itself operated in a highly centralized manner, with decision-making authority concentrated at the top and limited mechanisms for internal contestation or pluralism. In this sense, the structure of the party mirrored the structure of the state it governed.
Yet the NLD’s political imagination has long been shaped by a conception of the Union that is centralized, cohesive, and guided from the top. Federalism, in this view, is not rejected outright, but it is deferred and treated as something to be addressed after democracy is secured.
If this is the political inheritance that carries into the present, then it is necessary to examine how these patterns may be shaping the behavior of the NUG. The context has undoubtedly changed. The coup has transformed the political landscape, and the NUG now operates within a revolutionary environment that includes a wide range of actors, ethnic resistance organizations, newly formed armed groups, civil society networks, and a mobilized public. This moment demands a different kind of politics, one that is inherently collective and grounded in shared struggle.
Yet there are indications that older habits have not entirely disappeared. One of the most significant tensions lies in the question of legitimacy. The NUG continues to draw heavily on the electoral mandate of the 2020 elections, positioning itself as the legitimate continuation of the elected government. While this claim has validity, it is no longer sufficient on its own. The revolution that has emerged since the coup is not the product of electoral politics alone. It is sustained by the sacrifices of those engaged in armed resistance, by the resilience of ethnic political institutions, and by the widespread participation of ordinary people. To rely too heavily on electoral legitimacy risks narrowing the political foundation of the movement and marginalizing those whose contributions are not captured by the ballot box.
This tension is further reflected in the institutional arrangements that have been carried forward. Efforts to reconstitute parliamentary structures, even in symbolic form, raise important questions about whether the political imagination remains tied to the framework of the past. The 2008 Constitution, in practice, was already invalidated by the actions of the military. To frame its abolition as a procedural act undertaken by elected representatives risks misunderstanding the nature of its collapse. More importantly, the continued centrality of parliamentary logic may inadvertently reproduce hierarchical relationships that are at odds with the principles of a federal and inclusive political order.
The relationship between the NUG and broader collective bodies reveals not only ambiguity but a pattern of disregard that has, over time, rendered those bodies increasingly ineffective. Structures such as the National Unity Consultative Council were intended to serve as co-equal spaces of political decision-making, embodying the principle of collective leadership in a revolutionary context. In practice, however, the repeated sidelining of NUCC’s consultative role by the executive leadership has hollowed out its purpose. Rather than functioning as a genuine arena for shared deliberation and political ownership, the NUCC has too often been treated as a platform to retrospectively legitimize decisions already made elsewhere. This erosion of trust and function has had tangible consequences. Core founding actors, including the Karen National Union (KNU) and the Karenni National Progressive Party (KNPP), have stepped away from the NUCC framework, choosing instead to prioritize federal-building efforts on the ground. This development is not incidental. It reflects a deeper loss of confidence in collective mechanisms that fails to operate as intended. In a revolution of this nature, legitimacy cannot be centralized or performed symbolically. It must be shared, negotiated, and continuously reinforced through practice. When that does not occur, the result is not merely institutional weakness but the re-emergence of a political center that stands above, rather than alongside, other actors.
What emerges from this analysis is not a simple critique, but a warning about the trajectory. The struggle against military rule is not only about removing a regime. It is about transforming the foundations of political life. If centralizing instincts persist, even in subtle forms, they may shape the outcome in ways that fall short of the aspirations that have been so powerfully expressed across the country. Federalism cannot be deferred to a future moment of stability. It must be practiced in the present, embedded in the way decisions are made, authority is distributed, and relationships are structured. The task before the NUG, therefore, is not only strategic but conceptual. It requires a shift in how legitimacy is understood, moving from a singular source to a plural one. It requires a rethinking of institutions, so that they reflect shared ownership rather than hierarchical control. And it requires a commitment to federalism not as a distant goal, but as an organizing principle of the current struggle. The question is not whether the NUG can lead, but how it chooses to do so. If it leads by concentrating authority and relying on inherited forms, it risks narrowing the very coalition it depends on. If it leads by opening space, sharing power, and embracing the full implications of federalism, it may yet help lay the foundation for a different kind of Union-one that is not only free from military domination, but also just, inclusive, and genuinely federal.
M. Mutraw is a former Lauterpacht International Law Fellow (University of Cambridge) and is currently an Advisor to the Karen National Union.
[The views and opinions expressed here do not necessarily reflect the policies or positions of ISP-Myanmar. Readers wishing to share reflections or offer counterarguments are welcome to write and submit a rebuttal article.]