When U.S. President Donald Trump wanted to single out a case of supposedly wasteful federal government spending, he chose a relatively obscure program to hammer home the point: scholarships that funded tuition, room, and board for students from Myanmar who are enrolled in educational institutions in other Southeast Asian countries.
“We also blocked $45 million dollars for diversity scholarships in Burma. That’s a lotta money for diversity scholarships in Burma,” Trump said shortly after taking office in January as his administration canceled the program. (The U.S. government still uses the name Burma to refer to Myanmar.) “You can imagine where that money went.”
It is clear where the money went: toward safeguarding people’s lives and futures. It went to people such as Dee, a 27-year-old Myanmar national studying in Thailand who dreams of becoming a chief financial officer. When Dee first heard that the scholarships would be terminated, she panicked. “I don’t know how I will survive this,” she said. (Dee asked to use a pseudonym out of fear of retribution from the Myanmar military.)
Dee fled Myanmar after she participated in protests against the military coup that took place on Feb. 1, 2021. Authorities back home froze her bank account, which she had used to donate to protest groups. In Myanmar, protesting again the military regime or supporting those who do can result in swift imprisonment, torture, or death in custody. Fearing for her life, Dee escaped to neighboring Thailand.
Dee was among the first recipients of the new U.S.-funded scholarships intended to help some of Myanmar’s students from marginalized backgrounds continue their studies in universities elsewhere in Southeast Asia or online. The Diversity and Inclusion Scholarship Program (DISP), launched in 2024, provided funding for students from across Myanmar to attend universities in Cambodia, Indonesia, the Philippines, Thailand, and online at the University of Arizona. It aimed to support 1,000 students over five years.
DISP was funded by the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), which has come under attack from the Trump administration amid executive orders freezing foreign aid and targeting anything resembling diversity initiatives. DISP was among the first on the chopping block, but the administration has since eliminated more than 80 percent of global USAID programs and folded the agency into the U.S. State Department, leaving a vacuum of urgent humanitarian needs around the world.
In a statement announcing the launch of DISP last year, USAID said that the program would focus on Myanmar’s “most marginalized and vulnerable people,” adding that it was part of the United States’ “long-term investment” in the country’s people.
Myanmar’s 2021 coup ended a decade of democratic reforms and sent the country into a tailspin of armed conflict, human rights abuses, and economic despair. The military takeover also led to the near-collapse of the formal education sector in a country where 45 percent of the population is under 25 years old. After the coup, teachers and students protested against the military by refusing to attend state schools and universities, which were overseen by the junta. Others were forced to flee their institutions as fighting raged around them.
Though it is not unusual for school campuses to become crucibles for political resistance, Myanmar’s military has long been obsessed with controlling education to impose an ethnic-majority viewpoint, language, and culture on a diverse nation. That has included the teaching of Burmese at the expense of ethnic minority languages, using force to control demonstrations on school grounds, and temporarily closing universities during politically sensitive times.
This control has been a feature of life in Myanmar since the first prolonged era of military rule that began in 1962, when troops opened fire on students at Rangoon University and blew up a student union building. Since the 2021 coup, soldiers have occupied schools and universities; killed and arrested students and teachers; and carried out airstrikes on educational facilities, among other civilian targets across the country.
There were at least 245 attacks on schools in Myanmar during a reporting period from 2022-2023, according to the latest data from the Global Coalition to Protect Education from Attack. That figure is one of the highest in the world; most of these attacks involved the use of explosive weapons.
The coup further politicized education in Myanmar. A parallel education system has risen in areas that are not controlled by the junta but instead affiliated with resistance movements. These schools, universities, and online academies offer people an opportunity to continue their education. The National Unity Government, formed in part by lawmakers ousted by the military in 2021, runs its own Ministry of Education, while education initiatives in areas controlled by ethnic armed groups have multiplied.
Before the coup, “the system was very centralized. Everything had to come from the central level, from above, and we were not allowed to teach our own languages, culture or history,” said Maw Mimar, the head of the education department in Kayah state, where a parallel administration has emerged in opposition to the military, as in other contested parts of Myanmar.
The small state of Kayah (also known as Karenni), located near the border with Thailand, represents a microcosm of the challenges faced by young people trying to get an education in areas affected by the armed conflict. Attending classes is risky: In February 2024, one airstrike killed four children while they were at school in the state. Schools lack resources for materials such as textbooks, there are teacher shortages, and the teachers who are employed are paid monthly salaries that range from about $50 to as little as $15 in some areas.
But officials in Kayah and other conflict-affected areas are determined to keep schools open, recognizing the long-term social, economic, and security risks of limited access to education. Schools provide a social safety net, give parents the opportunity to work, and create a structure for young people who might otherwise be drawn to illicit activity.
“We always say education is also a revolution, a peacebuilding process,” Maw Mimar said. “Even though we manage to control the area, without education, we can’t really move forward.”
Outside funding has been critical to helping Myanmar’s students exercise their right to education despite the crisis—and in helping teachers provide it under extremely dangerous conditions. During the 2023-2024 school year, USAID funding helped contribute to education services for more than 400,000 children in remote and ethnic minority areas of Myanmar, including through textbooks as well as training and support for nearly 30,000 teachers, according to data shared by education experts.
The devastating impact of the abrupt withdrawal of U.S. foreign aid is not limited to Myanmar. But it appears that the Trump administration’s knee-jerk reaction to any program remotely related to “diversity” is harming some of the world’s most vulnerable people—and the president evinces a misplaced pride in doing so. Trump again crowed about ending DISP funding during his address to a joint session of Congress this month.
In Myanmar, the overall aid cuts hit a country at war and mired in crises on many fronts, affecting not just education but also health care, media, and refugee resettlement.
More than 300 students from Myanmar were supported with either full or partial funding from DISP, according to the Institute of International Education (IIE), the nonprofit partner that managed the project for USAID. In a separate appeal for funding to fill the gap, IIE said the consequences of the termination are dire. It pointed to what many students studying abroad fear: being sent back to Myanmar and conscripted into the military or being arbitrarily detained in one the country’s many notorious prisons.
Myanmar implemented forced conscription laws last year. But as the military loses more territory to armed groups around the country, it is tightening exemptions and barring anyone eligible for conscription from leaving without permission. In my recent conversations with Myanmar activists and civil society, this was their No. 1 concern.
“People are sent to the front lines to fight against civilians,” Dee said. “Imagine being forced into service by the military with no choice, being forced to fight against the people, and knowing that if you try to escape, you or your family could be killed.”
Recipients of the DISP funding don’t just see it as a way to finish their degree or embark on a promising career. To them, it is a lifeline.
“For some, the grant amount might seem insignificant, but for us, it represents our entire future,” one student wrote in testimonials from DISP students that were shared with me to help highlight the impact of the cuts. “Education should not be limited by politics,” another wrote. “It should be a right for everyone, especially those from crisis-affected regions.”
It remains unclear what will happen to the students spread across the Asia-Pacific region whom the Trump administration has abandoned. It will fall to host universities and new donors to help enable their continued study. Without this, many students will lose visa status and their educational achievements—and face the prospect of having to return to Myanmar or live as undocumented migrants while they figure out sustainable solutions.
Dee is currently working with her university to try and find a way to stay on; the alternative is too frightening to contemplate. “Education is the last hope for many people in Myanmar,” she said.
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