I’ve Seen What Happens when Free Speech Dies. We Can’t Let It Happen Here.

My first real glimpse of dictatorship came not in my prison cell, but in the hotel lobby of my five-star hotel in Yangon, Myanmar on August 8, 1998. 

The hotel catered to diplomats, businessmen, and tourists. Ordinary Burmese citizens were not allowed to stay there. To accommodate international guests, they stocked global newspapers. And yet, when I picked up a copy of the Financial Times, huge chunks of it had been cut out—literal holes in the paper where the junta decided information was too dangerous for us to read.

I was a 21 year old American college student who’d only known censorship through pearl-clutching parents trying to ban rap lyrics. I was also a very precocious International Studies Major so I thought I knew about state-run media and the tools of authoritarianism. But I didn’t know what it felt like.

The image of that newspaper stayed with me: knowledge physically carved away, a silence imposed by scissors.

That August I wasn’t just reading about repression, I was living it. I became an international political prisoner, one of the “Rangoon 18.” From six different countries, the eighteen of us smuggled in leaflets (sewn into the lining of our bags and our sneakers) to mark the 10 year anniversary of the pro-democracy uprising & massacre in Myanmar. The morning after our hotel stay we set out in five different groups and handed out business card-sized goodwill messages around the capital city. Each group was found and arrested. I was slapped across the face, isolated from the larger group, and thrown in jail. For more than a week, we were cut off from the outside world, subjected to a sham trial, and sentenced to five years of hard labor.

My crime? Proclaiming: “We are your friends from around the world. We support your hopes for human rights and democracy.” These words are illegal in Myanmar. This is what the loss of free speech looks like: five years in prison for a goodwill message.

International outcry saved me from serving the long sentence. Thousands of others before me, after me, and to this day, were not so lucky.

And now, decades later, I see echoes of those same authoritarian tactics right here in the United States.

When Trump’s former national security advisor Michael Flynn suggested in 2021 that a Myanmar-style military coup should happen here after Trump lost the election, I was shaken. The forces that stormed the Capitol on January 6th haven’t faded. They’ve been emboldened. And ever since Trump moved back in the White House, he is openly following the dictator’s playbook: silence dissent, discredit elections, criminalize opposition, stoke fear, and consolidate power under the guise of “security.”

I know where this road leads.

I have seen holes cut out of the morning paper before. I have seen universities shuttered to silence young people. I have seen people jailed simply for gathering in groups of three, out of fear they might start talking about democracy.

Authoritarianism rarely happens overnight. It seeps in slowly—through apathy, through normalized political violence, through institutions bent to serve power instead of people. By the time the coup arrives, democracy is already hollowed out.

We cannot let that happen here.

The most dangerous mistake we can make is assuming democracy will survive simply because it always has. It won’t, unless we actively defend it.

We must:

1. Hold Leaders Accountable

Call, write, and show up. Demand that elected officials—no matter their party—uphold democratic principles. Attend town halls and school board meetings. In every corner of this country, even in deep-red counties, people are speaking up. That civic engagement matters.

2. Protect Free Speech & Peaceful Protest

Keep showing up both online and in person. Not everyone has the privilege to speak out safely, which makes it even more important for those who can. One protest won’t change everything overnight, but each one builds momentum and inspires others.

3. Build Bridges Across Political Divides

Democracy can’t survive if we write each other off. Engage across differences. Support bipartisan democracy reforms. When I was a political prisoner, it was a Republican congressman, Rep Chris Smith of New Jersey, who fought to bring me home. That act of principle expanded what I thought was possible across party lines.

4. Stay Engaged & Educated

Dictators count on apathy. They count on people tuning out. In Myanmar, the junta closed schools to suppress independent thought. Here at home, efforts are underway to restrict what teachers can teach and to cut funding for public education. Pay attention. Teach children about civic participation. Model it yourself.

The assault on democracy is real. Myanmar should serve as a warning, not a blueprint.

I risked my life fighting for democracy abroad. I will not let it die here.