The story begins with a chilling scene in the jungles of eastern Myanmar. A 21-year-old medical student, Khuu Nay Reh Win, was enjoying a shower near his dormitory when the unmistakable sound of military jets overhead sent him running—barefoot and clad in just his undershorts—to a bomb shelter. Already terrified of the airstrikes, he was met with yet another enemy: a black snake coiled and poised to strike. Armed with nothing more than a stick, he killed the snake, narrowly avoiding a different kind of death. Reflecting on the moment, he said, “The fear of dying from a snakebite is as real as the fear of bombs.”
This brush with danger is an all-too-common occurrence at Karenni Medical College, a makeshift school built deep in the jungle by its students and faculty in Myanmar’s war-torn Karenni State. The college is part of a broader network of 18 small universities and academies established in rebel-held regions since a 2021 military coup ousted Myanmar’s civilian leaders. These schools, often constructed from little more than thatched bamboo, offer a glimmer of hope amid the country’s devastation. For students like Khuu, these institutions represent not just education but also resilience and survival in the face of overwhelming adversity.
### A New Education Movement Amid Chaos
Life in Myanmar has been profoundly upended by civil war, leaving an indelible mark on its population. Thousands have been killed, tens of thousands imprisoned, and millions displaced. The economy is shattered, and traditional educational pathways have crumbled. Against this grim backdrop, the rebel-controlled schools have emerged as a beacon of hope, driven by a sense of urgency to prevent an entire generation from missing out on education.
The founder and president of Karenni Medical College, Dr. Myo Khant Ko Ko, underscores the importance of these institutions: “We opened without waiting for the revolution to end because we were concerned that if young people were cut off from education for too long, they might change paths, face delays in their learning, and miss out on higher education opportunities.”
These schools aren’t just about academics—they’re about building a foundation for what could one day be a democratic society. They aim to empower students to rebuild their fragmented nation once the fighting subsides.
### Rebel Forces and Their Dream: Education for All
Myanmar’s rebel-controlled territories are a patchwork of ethnic minority groups that have long resisted the central military. Since the coup, these groups have been joined by pro-democracy protesters, transforming into a loose but determined alliance. Despite lacking the resources of the military junta—such as air power, wealth, and international support—these rebel forces claim control over significant swaths of the countryside. This tenuous foothold provides the backdrop for the creation of the schools.
From the outside, these universities and colleges seem as fragile as the societies they serve. Student populations range from a few dozen to the low hundreds, and degrees are offered in fields like science, liberal arts, technology, nursing, and agriculture. Some even have ties with foreign universities, allowing their brightest students to study abroad, but nearly all share one bitter reality: severe underfunding.
### The Constant Threat of Danger
The creation and operation of these schools are fraught with challenges. To avoid being targeted by airstrikes, many are hidden deep under jungle canopies, tucked away in residential areas, or housed in partially destroyed buildings. But caution can only go so far. Bombings and drone attacks remain a constant threat, disrupting the already fragile routines of students and faculty.
“Every day, we teach under the constant worry of aerial bombings, listening carefully to the sound of planes and watching the skies anxiously,” said Baby Hsan Chit Su, a chemistry professor and founder of Phanshaw University, a liberal arts college in Karenni State.
Some students commute to campus from refugee camps, where they live with displaced families. Others juggle their education with active roles in rebel militias, attending classes during rare breaks from the battlefield. For these young people, the pursuit of knowledge is as much an act of defiance as it is a personal dream.
### Preserving Culture in Conflict Zones
One school in Shan State, the Ta’ang Arts Academy, is using education as a means of preserving ethnic culture amidst the chaos. Its director, Owm Sa Ngarr, has only 27 students in the academy’s first class, with a curriculum focused on cultural heritage, specifically music. The director hopes his students will not only preserve their traditions but also find some solace and healing through art. “Music can be a medium for healing the psychological trauma faced by people living in conflict zones,” he said.
### Medical Schools on the Front Line
Several new medical schools have also sprung up, often spearheaded by doctors who left government positions in protest following the coup. One such figure is Khin Maung Lwin, who previously served as rector of the prestigious University of Medicine in Mandalay before resigning in solidarity with the resistance. In 2023, he founded the School of Medical Science in Kachin State, recruiting other professors who had joined the civil disobedience movement.
Despite their best efforts, danger is never far away. The school has been forced to shut down twice due to nearby bombings, with its professors and students temporarily relocating to makeshift campuses near the Chinese border. Undeterred, students continue to gain invaluable hands-on experience treating trauma victims, further fueling their commitment to one day serve as doctors in a country beset by war.
Nelly Phoe, a 22-year-old aspiring surgeon at Karenni Medical College, embodies the resilience of her generation. Her family was uprooted after junta artillery destroyed their home, forcing her mother and younger brother to live in a refugee camp. Meanwhile, her two older brothers fight with the Karenni Nationalities Defense Force. At school, Nelly faces daily challenges: giant snakes slither near her sleeping quarters; she must bathe in ponds shared with cows; and drones overhead prompt her to flee to bomb shelters mid-study session.
### The Quirks and Struggles of Campus Life
Despite the ever-present threat of violence, life in these jungle schools has its peculiar moments of levity. On one campus, local cattle with a peculiar taste for soap have been destroying students’ laundry. “I’ve lost more than 10 shirts to the cows,” Khuu said, lamenting that he was down to his last shirt and a pair of medical scrubs.
But humor aside, the lack of funding is the schools’ biggest challenge. Administrators struggle to provide even the most basic equipment, pay faculty salaries, or improve their facilities. And yet, in the face of such obstacles, these institutions persist because their mission is indispensable.
### A Defiant Hope for the Future
These schools are more than just temporary solutions amid the chaos of war; they are small, fragile acts of defiance against the military junta. Beyond serving as places of learning, they represent hope, healing, and a generation determined to fight not only for freedom but for a brighter future.
For young people like Khuu, Nelly, and countless others, these schools are their battlegrounds—their contributions to a revolution fought with books, medicine, and artistic expression. And though the odds are steep and the costs often harrowing, these students and educators carry on, fueled by the belief that education can one day be the cornerstone of a peaceful and democratic Myanmar.
