Tag: civil war

  • Myanmar’s Breakaway Regions: The Countries Inside a Country That’s Falling Apart

    The junta controls less than half of Myanmar’s territory. That sentence, sourced from the International Institute for Strategic Studies, ACLED, and the Foundation for Defense of Democracies, should probably be the starting point for any conversation about what’s happening inside the borders the United Nations still draws around a country called Myanmar. The Tatmadaw — the military that seized power in the February 2021 coup — holds the capital Naypyidaw, most of the major cities, and the central lowlands. Everything else is contested, controlled by ethnic armed organizations that have been fighting the central government for longer than most nation-states have existed, or governed by de facto autonomous authorities that run their own armies, their own courts, their own currencies, and their own economies behind borders that no international body recognizes. March 2026 was the deadliest month for civilians since the coup — 518 killed by the junta, according to regional civil society monitoring. The resistance coalition, organized since March 2026 under the Steering Committee for the Emergence of a Federal Democratic Union, controls roughly a third of the country’s landmass, including significant stretches of the Chinese, Indian, and Thai borders. Myanmar is not a state with rebel groups operating inside it. It is a collection of armed territories in various stages of autonomy, governance, and collapse, with a military junta occupying the center.

    Two of those territories — the Wa State and Karen State — represent the two poles of what breakaway governance looks like in Myanmar: one sustained by narcotics, Chinese patronage, and a 30,000-strong army; the other sustained by a 77-year guerrilla war, diaspora remittances, and a democratic governance structure that the international community applauds and does nothing to support.

    The Wa State: The World’s Largest Narco-Army

    The United Wa State Army is the most powerful non-state armed force in Southeast Asia. It commands an estimated 30,000 regular troops and 10,000-20,000 militia members, equipped with armored vehicles, artillery, surface-to-air missiles, and — according to multiple intelligence assessments — Chinese-manufactured weapons systems that exceed the firepower of some national armies in the region. The Wa State occupies approximately 30,000 square kilometers of northeastern Shan State, bordering China’s Yunnan province, with a population of roughly 600,000. It has its own government (the United Wa State Party), its own judicial system, its own schools (teaching in Wa and Mandarin, not Burmese), its own telecommunications network, and its own currency circulating alongside Chinese yuan and Myanmar kyat. It is, in every functional sense, an independent country — and it has been since the UWSA signed a ceasefire with the Tatmadaw in 1989, after the collapse of the Communist Party of Burma, whose remnants the Wa leadership absorbed.

    The Wa State’s economy runs on three pillars. The first is narcotics — the UWSA was, for decades, the largest producer of methamphetamine in the world, and despite official claims of opium eradication in the Wa hills, the region remains one of the primary sources of synthetic drugs flooding Southeast Asian markets. The second is Chinese investment — infrastructure, mining, casinos, and special economic zones that function as extensions of the Yunnan provincial economy. The third is the online scam industry — a phenomenon that has metastasized across Myanmar and Cambodia since 2020, in which trafficking victims are held in compounds and forced to conduct romance scams and cryptocurrency fraud targeting victims in China, the United States, and Europe. The Myanmar military conglomerates — MEHL and MEC, documented in the Shadowcraft course — generate revenue for the Tatmadaw through legal businesses. The Wa State generates revenue through illegal ones, at volumes that dwarf the military conglomerates’ output.

    China’s relationship with the Wa State is the structural fact that explains everything else. Beijing treats the UWSA as a client force: a buffer between Yunnan and the chaos of the Myanmar civil war, a tool for pressuring the Tatmadaw when necessary, and a problem it would rather manage than solve. When the junta’s military operations in northern Shan State threatened Chinese interests in late 2023 — during Operation 1027, when the Three Brotherhood Alliance (the Arakan Army, Ta’ang National Liberation Army, and Myanmar National Democratic Alliance Army) overran dozens of junta positions — China brokered a ceasefire that protected the Wa State’s borders while allowing the Brotherhood to consolidate elsewhere. The UWSA did not participate in Operation 1027. It didn’t need to. Its 30,000-strong army, its Chinese backing, and its economic self-sufficiency mean the Wa State can wait out any conflict between the Tatmadaw and the resistance, confident that no faction — including the junta — will attempt to challenge its autonomy as long as China stands behind it.

    The Wa State is the Transnistria of Southeast Asia — a territory sustained by a patron’s strategic interest rather than by its own democratic legitimacy. The difference is that Russia cut Transnistria’s gas and the territory began collapsing. China has no reason to cut the Wa State’s lifeline. The patron’s interest is stable. The territory endures.

    Karen State: The 77-Year War

    The Karen National Union declared its independence from Burma in 1949 — one year after Burma’s independence from Britain — making the Karen insurgency the longest-running civil war on Earth. Seventy-seven years later, the KNU has never stopped fighting. It has also never won. And since the 2021 coup, it has come closer to achieving meaningful territorial control than at any point since the Tatmadaw’s devastating 1990s offensives destroyed its headquarters at Manerplaw.

    The KNU governs through a decentralized structure organized into seven districts, each with its own military brigade (the Karen National Liberation Army), its own civil administration, its own schools (teaching in Sgaw Karen, Pwo Karen, and Burmese), and its own taxation system funded by border trade, natural resource extraction, and diaspora remittances. The governance is not token — the KNU provides education, healthcare, land administration, and dispute resolution across areas of Kayin State and Tanintharyi Region that the Tatmadaw has been unable to control since 2021. The KNU was one of the first ethnic armed organizations to actively support the Spring Revolution, sheltering fleeing protesters, training PDF volunteers, and providing the military infrastructure that turned the pro-democracy movement from a protest movement into an armed resistance.

    In April 2024, the KNLA and PDF forces captured the strategic border town of Myawaddy — a critical trade crossing with Thailand — along with enormous quantities of junta weapons and equipment. The capture was the most symbolically significant military victory for the Karen in decades. The Tatmadaw retook elements of the town in subsequent counteroffensives, but the KNU retained control of surrounding territory and the tactical initiative. As of early 2026, Karen-controlled territory extends across significant portions of eastern Myanmar, from the Thai border deep into Mon State, Bago Region, and Tanintharyi — an area that functions as a de facto Karen administered zone, with governance structures that predate the current civil war by decades.

    The Karen State’s relationship with Thailand mirrors the Wa State’s relationship with China — but with less investment and more ambivalence. Thailand’s military has historically maintained pragmatic relationships with both the Tatmadaw and the KNU, depending on which side controls the border trade at any given moment. Thai businesses operate in Karen-controlled territory. Karen refugees number over 100,000 in Thai camps, with hundreds of thousands more in informal settlements. Thailand has not recognized the KNU and has no interest in doing so. It has also not attempted to suppress it. The relationship is commercial, transactional, and profoundly asymmetric — the KNU depends on Thai border access for economic survival, and Thailand uses that dependence as leverage without offering protection.

    The Arakan Army: The Proto-State Nobody’s Talking About

    The third breakaway territory that deserves attention is the one furthest along the path to functional statehood. The Arakan Army — the armed wing of the United League of Arakan — has, since Operation 1027 and its subsequent offensives, captured the Tatmadaw’s Western Command headquarters in Ann, seized most of Rakhine State, and established direct communication with neighboring Bangladesh. The AA operates its own governance apparatus, collects taxes, provides public services, and — in a detail that would have been unthinkable five years ago — its leader General Twan Mrat Naing has opened diplomatic channels with foreign governments. The Arakan Army is not seeking autonomy within a federal Myanmar. It is building a state — methodically, in the middle of a civil war, while the international community focuses on Naypyidaw.

    The Battlefields of the Future course covers how drone warfare and autonomous weapons are transforming asymmetric conflict. Myanmar’s civil war is the proof case. The resistance — including the PDF, KNU, Kachin Independence Army, and the Three Brotherhood Alliance — has used commercially available drones, improvised explosive devices, 3D-printed weapons components, and social media coordination to challenge a conventional military that retains air superiority through fighter jets and attack helicopters. The April 2024 drone attack on Naypyidaw — 30 drones targeting the junta’s main air base and Min Aung Hlaing’s residence — demonstrated that the resistance can project force into the center of military power using technology that costs a fraction of the junta’s air assets. The humanoid robot industry’s question — whether robots can operate autonomously in unstructured environments — has a dark mirror in Myanmar, where improvised autonomous systems are already being deployed by both sides.

    The Wagner parallel

    The Washington Post reported in late April 2026 that the Tatmadaw has begun shifting to offense in areas where the resistance has weakened — particularly in northern Shan State, where Chinese pressure forced the MNDAA to withdraw from Lashio and the TNLA to pull out of Mogok. The junta’s strategy mirrors what the Wagner Group attempted in Mali: hold critical cities and resource-extraction sites while ceding peripheral territory. The difference is that Wagner’s forces were mercenaries who could negotiate their own withdrawal when the fighting got too expensive. The Tatmadaw’s soldiers are conscripts and career officers who cannot leave — and whose desertion rates have spiked since 2021, with thousands defecting to the resistance, some with their weapons. The junta introduced conscription in early 2024 to address its manpower crisis. The conscripts, poorly trained and badly motivated, have reduced rather than improved operational effectiveness.

    The Azawad post documented how Mali’s junta outsourced security to Russian mercenaries and lost the territory the mercenaries were supposed to hold. Myanmar’s junta didn’t outsource — it retained its own military — but the trajectory is parallel: a coup government losing territory to a coalition of ethnic armed organizations and pro-democracy forces, relying on air power and brutality to compensate for declining ground capability, and confronting a resistance that is more coordinated, more motivated, and more territorially embedded than anything the central government can field.

    Why it’s in the course

    Myanmar’s breakaway regions are the Off The Map case study in simultaneous fragmentation — not one territory seeking independence, but a dozen, each with different governance structures, different patrons, different ethnic compositions, and different visions for what comes after the Tatmadaw. The Wa State is a narco-patron state with Chinese backing. Karen State is a democratic guerrilla administration funded by diaspora remittances. The Arakan Army is building a proto-state on the Rakhine coast. The Kachin Independence Organization controls jade mines worth billions. The Karenni resistance has expelled the junta from nearly all of Kayah State. The Somaliland model — functional governance without recognition — applies to half a dozen of these territories simultaneously.

    Transnistria is one breakaway territory collapsing as its patron withdraws. Azawad is one separatist movement challenging a junta in alliance with jihadists. Myanmar is ten breakaway territories, each at a different stage of state-building, fighting a junta that controls less than half the country, with the outcome depending not on whether Myanmar fragments but on what the fragments become.

    This is the kind of place our Off The Map course was built to map — where the world’s longest-running civil war and the world’s largest narco-army and the world’s newest proto-state all exist inside the borders of a single country whose military government controls less than half its territory, fields an army losing soldiers to desertion faster than conscription can replace them, and is being challenged by a resistance coalition that includes democratic parliamentarians, Marxist ethnic armies, drug-funded militias, and Gen Z protesters who learned to make explosives from YouTube — all fighting for fundamentally different visions of what the country should be, in agreement only that the current government must fall.

  • The Ngogo Chimpanzee War: The First Documented Civil War in a Non-Human Species

    On the last full day of his life, a chimpanzee named Basie woke at dawn in a tree nest he’d built from branches and leaves, surrounded by other chimps dozing in their own nests, as he’d done nearly every day for 36 years in the Kibale National Park rainforest in Uganda. He spent an ordinary day swinging between trees and eating figs. As daylight faded, a patrol of about 13 adult chimpanzees from the opposing faction arrived. Three surrounded him. He jumped from a tree. Ten piled on him on the ground, biting him. Basie’s killers were chimpanzees he had grown up with — individuals he had groomed, traveled with, and defended territory alongside for decades. His death in 2019 was the second casualty in what researchers now call the Ngogo chimpanzee civil war, an eight-year conflict that has killed at least 28 chimpanzees, including 19 infants, and that a study published in Science on April 9, 2026, has documented in detail that primatologists say is unprecedented.

    What happened

    The Ngogo chimpanzee community was the largest known group of wild chimpanzees on earth — approximately 200 individuals living in relative cohesion in Kibale National Park for at least 20 years under continuous scientific observation since 1995. Chimpanzee communities typically number around 50. Ngogo was four times that. The group operated through a fission-fusion social structure — small parties formed and dissolved throughout the day as individuals moved around the territory foraging and socializing, but everyone belonged to the same community, shared the same territory, and collectively defended it against neighboring groups. Within the community, social relationships clustered around two primary neighborhoods that researchers named the Central and Western groups, but the boundary was porous. Chimps changed which cluster they associated with. Males groomed partners from both groups. Females mated across the divide. Key individuals — socially connected males who maintained relationships in both clusters — served as bridges holding the community together.

    Then those bridges collapsed. Several of the bridging males died from disease. A new alpha male rose to power, shifting the community’s political center of gravity. A respiratory disease outbreak further destabilized social networks. By approximately 2015, chimps in the Western and Central clusters began avoiding each other. The avoidance hardened into separation. By 2018, the division was permanent — two distinct communities with separate territories, separate social hierarchies, and no remaining social bonds between them.

    What followed was not a border skirmish between strangers. It was coordinated lethal violence between former companions. The Western faction — numerically smaller, starting at about 76 individuals — launched targeted raids into Central territory. Groups of adult males would patrol into enemy territory, locate isolated individuals, and attack with overwhelming numbers. The violence was graphic: sustained group assaults, biting, mutilation. From 2021, the Western raiders began targeting and killing infants — a pattern that primatologists associate with territorial expansion, as infanticide eliminates the offspring of rivals and can make females sexually receptive sooner.

    The Western faction’s campaign has been described as a “one-sided rout.” Their numbers grew from 76 to 108 over the course of the conflict. The Central faction suffered a stepwise decline. John Mitani, a professor emeritus at the University of Michigan who had been studying the Ngogo chimps for two decades when the violence started, told NBC News he is concerned the Central group is “doomed.” The war is ongoing. The 2026 Science paper covers data through 2024, but lead author Aaron Sandel of the University of Texas at Austin confirmed that further attacks have occurred in 2025 and 2026.

    Why it matters

    This is only the second documented case of a chimpanzee community splitting and going to war with itself. The first was the Gombe Chimpanzee War of the 1970s, observed by Jane Goodall in Tanzania, where a community called the Kasakela fissioned and the splinter group (the Kahama) was systematically hunted and destroyed over four years. The Gombe war was groundbreaking but limited by the observational methods available in the 1970s. The Ngogo study benefits from 30 years of continuous demographic data, 24 years of systematic behavioral observations, a decade of GPS tracking, and structured social network analysis — a dataset that Gombe never had. Genetic evidence suggests that permanent community fissions in chimpanzees are extraordinarily rare, occurring roughly once every 500 years. Researchers have now documented two in 50 years of field primatology, which either means the estimate is wrong or scientists have been spectacularly unlucky — or lucky, depending on your perspective.

    The social network data is what makes the Ngogo study new. The 2026 Science paper mapped the social ties between individuals across the entire community for years before, during, and after the split. What they found is that the division didn’t happen along genetic lines, or resource boundaries, or any clear ecological gradient. It happened along social network lines. When the bridging individuals who maintained connections between the two clusters died or were removed, the network fragmented — and fragmentation preceded violence by approximately three years. The chimps didn’t fight and then separate. They separated and then fought. Avoidance came first. Identity formation second. Lethal violence third.

    Aaron Sandel told BBC Science Focus that the study provides “a window into the chimpanzee mind that’s really rare” — the transition from friend to enemy, visible in behavioral data over a decade. The implication for understanding human conflict is the part that’s getting the most attention. In humans, collective violence is typically explained by cultural differences — ethnicity, religion, language, ideology — that bind groups together and generate hostility toward outsiders. But the Ngogo chimps had no cultural markers distinguishing the two factions. They spoke the same calls, ate the same food, lived in the same forest, and had mated with each other for years. The split wasn’t driven by what made them different. It was driven by the decay of what had kept them connected.

    Sandel’s conclusion is pointed: if chimpanzee civil wars emerge from the breakdown of interpersonal relationships rather than from intergroup differences, then human peace interventions that focus on cultural diplomacy — learning about the other side’s traditions, bridging ideological divides — may be missing the more fundamental mechanism. “What we have to do is maintain interpersonal relationships,” Sandel told Scientific American. “If we can reunite — even in the face of conflict — then I think that’s a recipe for maintaining peace.” Liran Samuni of the German Primate Center, who was not involved in the study, noted that even before the split, the Ngogo community was “one of the chimpanzee communities that was most violent in terms of encroaching on neighbors” — they had previously killed at least 21 chimpanzees from other groups and expanded into their territory. The civil war is new. The violence isn’t.

    The Gombe parallel

    Anne Pusey, who conducted fieldwork at Gombe until 1975 during the beginning of that war, told the Washington Post that the circumstances preceding both conflicts were “similar and shocking”: a shortage of mating-age females, the death of socially central older males, a change in alpha male, and disease. In both cases, social bonds that had been stable for years degraded rapidly once key connective individuals were removed from the network. Joseph Feldblum, an evolutionary anthropologist who has studied the Gombe data, said the Ngogo findings validate the earlier observations: “This sort of behavior, while rare, is part of the natural course of chimpanzee behavior.”

    The baboon politics research on coalition formation and dominance hierarchies, the chimpanzee tool use literature documenting cultural transmission across generations, and the dolphin signature whistle work demonstrating individual identity in non-human social systems all converge on the same insight the Ngogo war makes visceral: complex social cognition isn’t an abstract capacity. It’s the infrastructure that holds societies together — and when the infrastructure fails, the consequences in chimpanzee communities look disturbingly like the consequences in human ones. Former friends become lethal enemies not because something changed about who they are, but because the relationships that made them “us” instead of “them” stopped being maintained.

    We cover the Ngogo war alongside mirror neurons, corvid intelligence, animal deception, and 20 other investigations into what animal minds reveal about the architecture of social life across our Animal Culture & Knowledge course — where the question isn’t whether animals have societies but what happens when those societies break.