When the earth shook in central Myanmar on March 28, many in the Buddhist-majority country waited for the aftermath to undermine the military junta’s repressive rule—reflecting a belief that natural disasters can signal waning karmic merit for those in power. What they saw instead was a regime eager to leverage humanitarian aid for legitimacy amid an ongoing civil war.
In the hours after the deadly 7.7 magnitude earthquake, the streets of Mandalay and Sagaing—not far from the epicenter—resembled a war zone. Survivors clawed through debris to free loved ones, with virtually no sign of help from authorities. Myanmar’s capital, Naypyidaw, along with the Mandalay and Sagaing regions were the hardest hit. The death toll in Myanmar surpassed 3,600 people by April 7 and was still climbing as rescue efforts began winding down last week.
In a rare move, the junta quickly declared a state of emergency in the disaster zone and issued an appeal for international aid after the quake. But despite aftershocks and injured citizens filling hospitals, reports from the armed resistance movement indicated that in the days after the quake, the military continued airstrikes against resistance groups in several areas—including the Sagaing region as well as the states of Kachin and Rakhine.
Debate soon erupted among some civil society groups and humanitarian networks over response strategies—whether to engage with the junta or reject collaborating with the regime.
On one side stood self-declared peacemakers or moderates who argued that it might be necessary to work with the junta for the sake of immediate humanitarian coordination. “We need an immediate cease-fire … to deliver humanitarian assistance,” Singaporean Foreign Minister Vivian Balakrishnan said after an emergency Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) meeting intended to address the natural disaster.
Myanmar’s National Unity Government (NUG), a parallel administration that includes some lawmakers deposed in the country’s 2021 coup, announced a unilateral partial cease-fire in the areas with heavy damage in an effort to facilitate rescue efforts. The NUG also offered to deploy its own volunteers in junta-controlled areas. Days later, prominent ethnic armed organizations in the states of Rakhine, Shan, and Kachin announced temporary truces, and the junta followed suit on April 2—one day after its soldiers fired warning shots toward a Chinese Red Cross aid convoy.
Yet by April 10, the military regime had carried out at least 160 aerial attacks, with nearly half of these occurring after it publicly declared its truce.
On the other side, some pro-resistance factions flatly rejected engagement with the junta, warning that the regime could exploit the disaster to tighten its grip on power. Just two days after the earthquake, 265 Myanmar civil society organizations published a letter calling for aid to bypass the junta and instead be channeled through local communities, the NUG, and ethnic resistance groups.
They also reminded the world of Myanmar’s own dark history of disaster response. During Cyclone Nargis in 2008, Myanmar’s previous military regime obstructed and diverted aid to coerce public support for a sham constitutional referendum. As Myanmar faced a wave of COVID-19 infections following the 2021 coup, the regime restricted, delayed, or repackaged foreign assistance.
More recently, as the United Nations human rights rapporteur recently noted, the junta showed a “willingness to weaponize aid” after Cyclone Mocha in 2023 and Typhoon Yagi in 2024, blocking relief to areas seen as disloyal to the regime.
For a moment after the March earthquake, Myanmar’s military and resistance leaders agreed on at least one thing: The country urgently needed outside aid for citizens already burdened by an ongoing crisis. Yet the response to the emergency quickly exposed the country’s political fault lines and fueled speculation about whether the disaster could catalyze regime change.
Though the generals in Naypyidaw might be shaken, they are far from surrendering power or curbing their brutality. As the U.N. official noted, Myanmar’s military has previously exploited crises to reinforce its power. In the past, the military regime has blocked aid to regions controlled by the resistance. More recently, it told a Taiwanese search-and-rescue team to stand down after the earthquake while allowing access to Chinese teams.
The earthquake presents a dark opportunity for the military to project control over relief efforts—and by extension, to claim that it remains the legitimate governing authority. Though the junta does not bar aid organizations from entering Myanmar, it typically permits only those that it has vetted. By limiting access, the military can both project itself as a capable first responder and take control over aid delivery.
Ongoing armed conflict also shapes aid decisions. The junta has withheld relief to weaken its opponents, such as during Cyclone Mocha, which hit Rakhine state; the regime also blocked assistance to the areas under the control of the rebel Arakan Army despite a cease-fire. Even now, in defiance of the announced truces, the military continues to conduct bombardments and offensive attacks across the country.
The junta’s losses could be motivating it to leverage the earthquake to bolster its legitimacy. Since the February 2021 coup, it has lost control of 95 towns to various resistance groups, according to Peace Monitor. As of December, a BBC analysis indicated that the military controlled only 21 percent of Myanmar’s territory, though it still dominates densely populated key cities, including some of those hardest hit by the earthquake.
The junta has also faced diplomatic isolation since it took power in 2021, losing recognition in key international forums and grappling with rejection from global and regional partners. ASEAN, for example, has shunned the military government, barring it from high-level meetings and denying Myanmar a chance to chair the bloc in 2026. The U.N. has refused to seat the junta’s envoys. Some countries have even symbolically recognized the NUG.
In the wake of the coup, Western donors froze development assistance to Myanmar to avoid funding the military, and businesses fled. By late 2022, companies from 39 countries had pulled out of Myanmar. Meanwhile, the United States, European Union, and others imposed sanctions on the junta’s leaders and enterprises, somewhat curbing its access to finance and arms.
These pressures left the regime dependent on support from patrons such as China and Russia, which continue to provide some diplomatic cover and arms.
Rather than weakening the junta, the earthquake could help consolidate its power. In part, this is because declining U.S. engagement has removed critical pressure points. The Trump administration’s funding cuts to the U.S. Agency for International Development—and other agencies that support pro-democracy forces and uncensored news—have left a vacuum that the junta’s more authoritarian partners—China, Russia, and even India—have eagerly filled. Beijing alone pledged nearly $14 million in aid after the earthquake.
China and Russia in particular stand to gain as their investments reap influence and contracts in reconstruction efforts. They may secure exclusive or preferential deals in infrastructure and energy projects, greater leverage in negotiating resource extraction rights, and opportunities for arms sales or military cooperation.
In contrast, the United States and other democracies remain largely on the sidelines, at best funneling funds through the U.N. while hesitating to engage directly with a pariah regime—thereby ceding ground to less scrupulous actors.
Meanwhile, the military regime is expected to delay any political compromise. The junta’s long-standing pledge to hold elections by the end of the year has always been uncertain; it has floated multiple timelines for the sham vote. If the junta deems the earthquake to be an advantageous opportunity to further postpone the elections, it will. But if it believes that an election can still be used for legitimacy, it might claim that one is happening anyway.
For the people of Myanmar, the situation remains grim. Humanitarian aid cannot be divorced from politics in authoritarian states, even during a natural disaster. If the international community funnels aid through the junta and averts its eyes, it may alleviate some immediate suffering while bolstering an oppressive regime. If it bypasses the regime entirely, the junta might restrict aid and punish those who deliver it, as it has done before.
There is a middle way: for the international community to work with local humanitarian networks—community groups, monasteries, the Red Cross, and even the NUG’s relief teams—to get aid into hard-to-reach areas. Foreign actors should push for humanitarian corridors or ASEAN-monitored distribution that the regime can accept without feeling undermined.
Above all, sustained international attention is essential. The earthquake may not bring regime change in Myanmar, but it should refocus the world’s conscience on the country’s plight even as images of the devastation recede. The generals will likely survive this disaster, but their stranglehold on Myanmar’s future should not go unchallenged by those with the power to assist and influence.
Allowing the junta to instrumentalize this disaster unchecked risks empowering a dictatorship and further condemning millions of people to prolonged misery. Even as emergency aid flows, diplomats and U.N. agencies must insist on transparency, equitable aid distribution, and a continued push for a real political solution.
Myanmar needs more than charity: It needs solidarity and sustained pressure for the freedom that its people have died for.