Military Regime Turns Screws on Fearful Burmese : Myanmar: A demoralized nation with a new name lives in terror despite the regime’s promise of elections next year.

Couples have returned to the shaded walkways along Inya Lake in Yangon--formerly Rangoon--and foreign tourists are beginning to fill the dingy hotels of this country, which changed its name from Burma to Myanmar last June.

Yet an overwhelming sense of unease permeates the streets as Burmese nervously await the next chapter in the turbulent one-year struggle against military government.

A year has passed since the military crushed a student-led uprising for democracy that brought the largest protests ever against the 26 years of authoritarian rule under Ne Win. The military government responded by killing thousands of unarmed demonstrators and has kept people under the boot ever since.

Even the peaceful protests scheduled for summer of this year to commemorate the massacre never took place. With clusters of troops poised to shoot at the slightest show of defiance, opposition leaders wisely urged people to stay home rather than risk leading them into a veritable killing field.

In the wake of this latest show of force remains a demoralized, terrified people.

“What can we do when we have nothing?” said an exasperated 36-year-old government worker in the former royal capital of Mandalay. “We can only wait for democracy, for the big day.”

But the wait may be painfully long, even for the extremely patient and optimistic Burmese. Somehow this isolated nation of 40 million people has resisted the urge for peace and stability that has taken hold elsewhere in Indo-China.

While government officials scurry about registering political parties and preparing lists of eligible voters--ostensibly for a promised free and fair parliamentary election in May--security forces have been quietly arresting thousands people who advocate democracy and human rights.

In July, Aung San Suu Kyi, the charismatic leader of the National League for Democracy, the largest opposition party, was placed under heavily guarded house-arrest along with her deputy, Tin Oo. Her detention may last up to one year, well past election day.

“The government seems to be clearing the field of anyone in opposition,” said a senior Western diplomat. “People who were active last year continue to be picked up.”

To accommodate the huge influx of opponents, authorities cleared Yangon’s main prison of 17,000 hard-core criminals last month. Local residents say the crime rate has soared in recent weeks.

According to Asian and Western diplomats as well as opposition sources, about 7,000 people have been arrested since July. Truckloads of armed troops prowl the streets of the capital enforcing strict martial-law regulations and country roads are littered with checkpoints. Resentment toward the once-revered military has so intensified that military officers avoid wearing their uniforms while off duty.

An army lieutenant colonel explained the crackdown to me: “People need to learn discipline before they can have democracy.”

Meanwhile, the country is sinking back into reclusion. A ban on foreign journalists remains in effect because, according to one government spokesmen, the truth is being distorted. In recent weeks, official attacks on the Voice of America and the British Broadcasting Corp. have intensified; both organizations broadcast popular Burmese-language shortwave programs into Myanmar.

Those who are picked up in terrifying midnight raids face harsh treatment, ranging from sleep and food deprivation to physical torture, according to diplomats. Amnesty International and the U.S. State Department have both confirmed the brutality.

One Yangon University student wept uncontrollably as he described his stay of several weeks in Insein Jail, north of the capital. “I kept on telling myself I’m not afraid to die,” the young man said.

In the current climate of repression, diplomats and a number of Burmese interviewed have already dismissed the election as a desperate attempt by the ruling State Law and Order Restoration Committee (SLORC) to woo back foreign aid and restore credibility.

Even if voting takes place, observers here doubt the military rulers will be able to resist the temptation to tamper with the ballot boxes, let alone hand over the reins of power to civilians.

There are also widespread fears that the government will postpone elections, citing continued unrest.

“This is an oppressive regime that is bent on maintaining its own position for as long as possible,” said an Asian diplomat. “In the process they are ripping the guts out of any group that might challenge them.”

The people’s demands are simple: an end to human-rights abuses and economic mismanagement inflicted by the military regime founded by the brutal and reclusive Ne Win. As the man believed to be pulling the strings (despite having officially retired last year), Ne Win is widely blamed for reducing this once-rich nation to an economic basket case.

Since January the cost of rice has tripled, putting a bowl of the staple food out of reach for many destitute families. Myanmar was once described as a nation that would never know hunger: Today reports of malnutrition are becoming increasingly common.

The government is so strapped for cash that it has suspended payments on all foreign debt--including $2.5-million owed to the United States, most of which is repayable in local currency.

In Yangon and elsewhere, people have been cowed into submission. Telephone taps are believed to be in widespread use and members of the hated military intelligence organization can be seen in crowded tea shops.

“We have reached the point,” said a wealthy Yangon businessman with close ties to the National League for Democracy, “that the words ‘home’ and ‘safe’ no longer mean the same thing.”

The only visible signs of defiance are at the secondary schools in Yangon, where students have been seen chanting anti-government slogans during breaks and pasting posters in washrooms.

In the absence of genuine political and economic reform, few Western governments have moved to restore ties with the military junta or resume aid programs cancelled during the bloody three-month confrontation with the army.

While some nations such as Australia have begun to restore some aid and meet with the military rulers, the United States has made life uncomfortable for the junta by condemning army brutality and publicizing human-rights abuses.

Some citizens urge foreign governments to offer financial support to the hundreds--or thousands--of students who have taken refuge in Thai border camps.

The All Burma Students’ Democratic Front claims a membership of more than 4,800, including students, young professionals, Buddhist monks and others, at 24 camps. But their presence on the border may add up to nothing more than a symbolic show of defiance.

“The students are very good fighters and are not afraid to die,” said a Mandalay university instructor during lunch in a crowded tea shop. “But unless they come in big numbers, there is no hope of fighting this army.”