NAYPYIDAW, Myanmar — U Shwe Mann, a battle-scarred general, grabbed his gun and waited.
Myanmar’s first real elections in a generation were unfolding in 2015, and Mr. Shwe Mann, once the third-most powerful man in the country’s military dictatorship, was losing his bid for a seat in Parliament. The victor was a teacher from the party headed by Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, whom the ruling junta had kept under house arrest for 15 years.
Mr. Shwe Mann’s wife counseled him to pray to Buddha. The former general meditated and accepted his loss. But he still kept his gun under his pillow, just in case the people of Myanmar decided to come after him, seeking retribution for nearly 50 years of repressive rule.
No mob came for him that night, or the next. And Mr. Shwe Mann, a political chameleon, has exchanged trench warfare and the bunkered mentality of a xenophobic junta for a personal library full of titles like “101 Ways to Win an Election” and “How Successful People Think.”
Most surprising of all, he has grown close to Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi; the onetime jailer and his prisoner of conscience usually meet a couple of times a week, communing over fish noodle soup and vegetables pungent with shrimp paste. He wrote a book called “The Lady, I and Affairs of State” in which he praised her “integrity and kindness.”
This year, Mr. Shwe Mann formed a new political group, the Union Betterment Party, a surprising move for a man who lost badly in the only free election he has ever contested. The party plans to mount a challenge in next year’s elections.
“Is there a military general who dares to do like me, who dares to think like me?” he asked. “If we have democracy, we will have development.”
With decades of experience in the jungle, fighting some of Myanmar’s bloodiest civil wars against ethnic rebels, Mr. Shwe Mann, 71, is used to renegade tactics. He demonstrated that when the military that he served for more than four decades abandoned him after an internal power struggle that peaked in 2015.
He surprised his fellow top brass by cozying up to Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi, the Nobel Peace Prize laureate and politician who in 2016 became the de facto leader of Myanmar’s civilian government. Her reputation abroad has since been devastated by her defense of the military’s violent oppression of the Rohingya minority, and her government’s suppression of dissent.
“Maybe she has bitterness” toward the generals who persecuted her, Mr. Shwe Mann said, in recognition of their unlikely relationship. “She should.”
Mr. Shwe Mann says that his political party will support Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi’s efforts, even as he hints that her party, the National League for Democracy, has been disappointing since its landslide victory four years ago. The military still controls a quarter of the seats in Parliament and the top ministries, not to mention a military budget that dwarfs any other expenditure.
“The N.L.D. didn’t have a chance to lead because they lacked exposure,” Mr. Shwe Mann said, a delicate description of the decades of repression by the junta that he once helped lead. Hundreds of the party’s supporters were jailed for their activism.
“We cannot blame them, but practical experience is very important,” he added.
His own education in governing began in 2011 with a slight, when the military backed U Thein Sein, a mild-mannered bureaucrat with little battlefield experience, to become president, rather than the openly ambitious Mr. Shwe Mann.
Instead, Mr. Shwe Mann was made speaker of the Lower House of Parliament, and he dispatched one of his sons to prepare memos on how parliamentary politics worked. The son obliged, scouring Wikipedia pages and consulting books such as “British Politics for Dummies.”
Mr. Shwe Mann quickly turned the speaker’s post into one of the most powerful in the country. After his election loss in 2015, Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi gave him control of an influential legal commission, which he also invested with outsize power.
But in February, Parliament declined to renew the commission’s term. Mr. Shwe Mann now has no official position, other than as head of a new political party with a skeletal membership.
Even though an expected investment boom has not materialized in Myanmar, Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi’s party is expected to dominate the 2020 elections. Her personal appeal at home endures, and the military-linked party remains reviled for the army’s long, ruinous grip on the country.
In Myanmar’s borderlands, where ethnic minorities dominate, the military, stocked largely with soldiers from the Bamar ethnic majority, has been linked to torture, institutionalized rape and, in 2017, what United Nations officials say was a genocidal expulsion of Rohingya Muslims.
Mr. Shwe Mann, a Bamar, denies mistreating ethnic minority civilians during his battle years, when he suffered shrapnel wounds, malaria and too many fallen men under his command.
“I never tortured local people when I was there, and I never killed a single person,” he said. “We fight, but we have mutual respect for each other.”
Mr. Shwe Mann said that his life was saved more than once by advice on avoiding land mines from ethnic minority villagers. They sent soldiers care packages of food, he said.
Human rights groups contend that the Tatmadaw, as the military is known, would regularly raid ethnic minority villages for supplies and even turn children into walking mine detectors. They have accused soldiers under Mr. Shwe Mann’s command of abuses.
As for the Rohingya, more than 700,000 of whom fled over the border to Bangladesh in 2017, Mr. Shwe Mann said that military discipline precludes the kind of atrocities that the international community accuses the Tatmadaw of committing: mass rape, village burnings, bullets in the backs of fleeing children.
“If evidence is there, then it cannot be forgiven,” he said, even as ample testimony has led the United Nations and Western governments to call the military campaign ethnic cleansing. The diminution of Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi’s international reputation because of the Rohingya expulsion saddened him, he added.
Mr. Shwe Mann is pessimistic about the resolution to Myanmar’s ethnic unrest, which has simmered for decades and recently flared on the northern and western frontiers, where ethnic Rakhine, Shan and Kachin militia groups are fighting for autonomy.
“There will be more war,” he said, sitting in a teak gazebo in a vast leadership compound in the country’s capital, Naypyidaw, occupied by retired members of Myanmar’s junta.
The son of farmers, Mr. Shwe Mann grew up in a militarized society in which ambitious young men tied their futures to a life of soldiering. He graduated from the elite Defense Services Academy and, after his time in the trenches, worked his way up to joint chief of staff.
One of the great questions of Myanmar’s recent political history is why the junta began handing over some power to a civilian government, without a bloody uprising to force change. Normally, revolutions topple authoritarian governments. Myanmar’s transition, as flawed and corrupted as it has been, was a process dictated by the dictators.
Mr. Shwe Mann remembers his first trip abroad, to Indonesia, when he was a 40-year-old colonel. Jakarta, the Indonesian capital, dazzled with lights and modernity, outshining the moldy decay of Yangon, then Myanmar’s capital.
Even worse, Mr. Shwe Mann encountered Westerners who had never heard of Myanmar. He tried the name Burma, which was given back when it was a British colony with top schools and a bounty of rice exports. Still no recognition from the foreigners. Only when Mr. Shwe Mann described a land wedged between China and India did a vague understanding set in, he said.
“I was ashamed,” Mr. Shwe Mann said. “I knew right then that we had to develop my country.”B:
别版凤凰马经【金】【武】【朝】【原】【本】【是】【漠】【北】【出】【名】【的】【游】【侠】，【一】【个】【人】【独】【来】【独】【往】，【结】【交】【了】【不】【少】【漠】【北】【豪】【杰】【之】【士】，【曾】【经】【和】【北】【苍】【狼】【也】【有】【过】【交】【集】，【是】【少】【数】【被】【狼】【王】【萧】【腾】【认】【可】【的】【人】。 【就】【实】【力】【而】【言】，【金】【武】【朝】【妥】【妥】【的】【一】【流】【上】【等】【高】【手】，【体】【力】【和】【力】【量】【是】【他】【的】【强】【项】，【内】【力】【也】【十】【分】【雄】【厚】，【一】【对】【肉】【掌】【纵】【横】【漠】【北】【十】【多】【年】，【罕】【有】【敌】【手】。 【这】【次】【金】【武】【朝】【被】【漠】【北】【王】【木】【默】【然】【召】【见】，【交】【代】【了】【试】
【钟】【离】【玉】【有】【点】【尴】【尬】，【偏】【过】【头】【去】【又】【看】【看】【其】【他】【的】【地】【方】，【等】【转】【过】【头】【的】【时】【候】，【看】【到】【的】【一】【幕】【却】【差】【点】【让】【她】【心】【肌】【梗】【塞】。 【小】【男】【孩】【双】【手】【聚】【在】【一】【起】，【渐】【渐】【发】【出】【淡】【蓝】【色】【的】【光】，【眸】【中】【有】【一】【丝】【得】【意】【的】【笑】。 【他】【要】【干】【什】【么】？！【要】【施】【法】【吗】？【为】【什】【么】【要】【施】【法】？【因】【为】【看】【不】【惯】【西】【海】【龙】【王】【吗】？！！【她】【也】【看】【不】【惯】【呀】……【但】【是】！【那】【好】【歹】【怎】【么】【说】【也】【是】【西】【海】【龙】【王】【呀】！！！
11【月】9【日】，【在】【一】【个】【访】【谈】【节】【目】【中】，87【版】《【红】【楼】【梦】》【中】【的】“【探】【春】”【扮】【演】【者】，【东】【方】【闻】【樱】【采】【访】【照】【曝】【光】，【和】【昔】【日】【探】【春】【的】【丰】【满】【圆】【润】【相】【比】，56【岁】【的】【东】【方】【闻】【樱】【明】【显】【的】【瘦】【了】【很】【多】，【全】【然】【没】【有】【了】【探】【春】【当】【年】【的】“【鸭】【蛋】【脸】【面】”，【消】【瘦】【得】【让】【一】【众】【红】【迷】【们】【都】【不】【敢】【相】【认】【了】。别版凤凰马经“【想】【容】【姐】，【这】【就】【是】【你】【的】【家】【乡】【吗】？【好】【热】【闹】！”【赶】【了】【数】【月】【的】【路】，【一】【行】【人】【终】【于】【回】【到】【清】【河】【镇】。【佟】【毓】【撩】【开】【车】【窗】，【看】【到】【外】【面】【的】【景】【致】【后】，【不】【由】【惊】【叹】【一】【声】。 【李】【想】【容】【道】：“【和】【保】【金】【县】【大】【同】【小】【异】【罢】【了】。” “【不】【一】【样】。”【佟】【毓】【目】【光】【灼】【灼】，“【我】【一】【直】【在】【想】，【能】【养】【出】【想】【容】【姐】【这】【样】【妙】【人】【的】【地】【方】，【究】【竟】【是】【怎】【样】【的】【钟】【灵】【毓】【秀】【之】【地】，【今】【日】，【终】【于】【能】【有】【幸】
【有】【人】【祭】【出】【了】【生】【灵】【碎】【骨】，【涌】【出】【大】【道】【契】【机】，【藉】【此】【机】【会】【打】【开】【了】【一】【条】【通】【道】。 【却】【是】【引】【起】【了】【通】【天】【杀】【伐】，【来】【此】【地】【的】【多】【是】【一】【些】【没】【有】【任】【何】【背】【景】，【甚】【至】【是】【一】【些】【老】【家】【伙】【欲】【要】【借】【十】【万】【山】【拼】【一】【下】，【所】【以】【这】【场】【杀】【伐】【更】【是】【显】【得】【尤】【为】【惊】【人】。 【那】【些】【道】【路】【上】【的】【生】【灵】【见】【此】，【也】【是】【纷】【纷】【出】【手】，【凭】【借】【圣】【灵】【宝】【物】、【纹】【骨】、【碎】【骨】、【血】【脉】【等】【等】，【近】【乎】【几】【个】【呼】【吸】【的】【工】【夫】，
【洛】【师】【师】【眼】【巴】【巴】【很】【委】【屈】【的】【看】【着】【她】【家】【砚】【哥】，“【砚】【哥】，【我】【穷】。” 【言】【外】【之】【意】，【你】【怎】【么】【能】【不】【让】【我】【赚】【他】【们】【的】【钱】？ 【快】【点】【告】【诉】【我】【那】【些】【人】【的】【联】【系】【方】【式】，【我】【要】【赚】【他】【们】【的】【钱】。 【晋】【砚】【之】【在】【易】【浩】【深】【开】【口】【后】，【便】【心】【里】【暗】【道】【一】【声】，【不】【好】，【现】【在】【听】【到】【小】【作】【精】【的】【控】【诉】，【唇】【角】【微】【动】。 【穷】【也】【亏】【得】【她】【敢】【说】。 【她】【要】【是】【都】【穷】【了】，【那】【这】【个】【世】【界】，