As Myanmar faces a rising TB burden, digital tech and dedicated community health workers like radiographer Kay Khaing are bridging the gap between a deadly disease and free, life-saving care. Tuberculosis (TB) – a life-threatening disease that kills more than a million people globally every year – is one of Myanmar’s most serious public health challenges. The country is among the highest TB burden countries globally. Actual data is unavailable, but the World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that the number of cases has increased by 23 percent between 2015 and 2024.The burden of TB falls disproportionately on people who already face significant barriers to healthcare. These include people living in congested urban areas, particularly in Yangon, and communities in remote areas where weak health infrastructure and limited access to services can delay diagnosis and care.Through the Access to Health Fund managed by UNOPS, partners support TB prevention, early detection and treatment among these high-risk populations. Community-based health workers provide health education, screening and referrals, helping people access testing and start treatment as early as possible. They also support patients throughout the long course of treatment needed to cure the disease.Early diagnosis is critical to improving treatment outcomes and preventing the spread of TB. One of the most important tools for detecting the disease is chest X-ray imaging, which can reveal signs of TB before laboratory results are available. But diagnosis is not just about machines, medicines or test results. It depends on a network of skilled health workers who help patients navigate a long and often difficult journey to recovery.Among them is radiographer Kay Khaing, whose work helps turn symptoms and uncertainty into answers.The weight behind the machineMost people never think about what happens in the X-ray room. They walk in, hold their breath for a moment, and walk out. But for a TB patient, that brief moment can change everything. Kay knows this better than most.Every day, patients walk into her room carrying more than just a referral slip. Many have never had an X-ray before. Some arrive anxious, unsure of what the machine might reveal, and wondering whether they can afford to keep coming back.“Most of the patients who come here are struggling financially. So, it is a relief for them because we provide the services free of charge,” said Kay. She understands their worries, having supported her own grandmother through TB treatment. “Back then, since I hadn't entered this field yet, I didn't understand much about TB. Getting treatments at outside clinics was expensive. We mostly had to buy the medicines ourselves,” she said. “When patients around my grandmother's age come into the clinic, I remember her.”From darkroom to digital Kay is only 30, but she has already worked across a rapidly changing field. Not long ago, she was developing film plates in a darkroom, waiting to see if the image was usable. Then came cassette scanning. Now she works with a digital radiography system that produces a sharp image within seconds of the shutter clicking.“Technology is constantly advancing day by day,” she said. “I always try to keep up so that I can better care for patients.”In the clinic, she is part of a wider network of frontline health workers supporting TB care – many of them women – who bring skill, patience, and deep community trust to some of the most demanding work in public health. “Sometimes, looking at the patient’s X-rays, I feel proud to have studied Radiography. It is beneficial to have learned this. I am very happy to be a Radiographer.” 

When asked what development looks like today, a community leader in Kalaw township points to these fields. Once destroyed by a typhoon, they are now productive again. What began as emergency food assistance in the first month was followed by UNDP support in the community—seeds, training, debris removal, support to microbusinesses and small infrastructure—backed by the Republic of Korea, Norway and Switzerland. One year on, the fields sustain three annual production cycles—rice and flowers—with more resilient practices and higher yields. “This is what development looks like to us,” he says.Communities in Myanmar today are not facing a single crisis. They are facing many, and layered on top of one another, recurring over time. Conflict, insecurity, economic uncertainty, market volatility and climate- and disaster-related shocks do not occur in isolation. Global crises are placing added pressure on already-stretched humanitarian and development financing. Together, these dynamics reinforce one another, creating a cycle that is harder to break. These protracted, compounding crises are reshaping the country’s social and economic fabric and putting communities under enormous stress.Myanmar shows why separating humanitarian action from development no longer fits reality. Relief keeps people alive, but it will not on its own restart livelihoods, steady local services, increase risk preparedness or reduce the pressures that drive displacement. The smarter play is to link emergency support to a continuum of recovery, stabilization and longer-term development, backing community systems and local markets so today’s spending also buys a more durable future.A crisis that feeds on itselfMyanmar is fragmented: conflict in too many areas, economic freefall in others, and climate shocks across the country—from floods and droughts to rising temperatures and environmental loss. But these pressures are connected. When livelihoods collapse, people move. When insecurity rises, local economies contract. When disasters hit, already-fragile services give way. Families then face hard trade-offs; taking on high-interest debt, moving to precarious urban fringes, attempting risky migration, or turning to illicit markets.For many, participation in informal, and sometimes criminal economies is less a choice than a last resort. Others flee, often towards cities such as Yangon. But urban areas are already under strain. In peri-urban Yangon, poverty rates are estimated to be around 50 percent, and new arrivals stretch housing, services and jobs further, deepening vulnerability and inequality. Women shoulder this burden most heavily, with women-headed households in peri-urban areas more likely to have lower incomes, depend on precarious and poorly paid employment, and facing heightened safety concerns.This is how the crisis sustains itself. Conflict and violence breed insecurity; insecurity forces people from their homes and pushes some into illicit economies; displacement fractures livelihoods and the resulting economic hardship reinforces instability. And so the cycle continues.The limits of a humanitarian-only responseMyanmar has received humanitarian aid for decades. It remains essential. People need immediate support for food, shelter and protection. But the challenges Myanmar faces today are not only humanitarian. They are structural and long-term. When support can only be planned and financed in short cycles, it can help people survive, but without enabling them to rebuild livelihoods, restore services or reduce future risk. This can create dependence on humanitarian aid without a clear exit.The question is no longer whether humanitarian support is needed—it clearly is—but whether it is sufficient on its own, and how development can help build resilience. To break the cycle, investments must also focus on recovery, livelihoods, risk preparedness, access to finance and local systems. The bridge between humanitarian action and development must be deliberately built. UNDP in Myanmar has designed a new phase of its Community First Programme backing community-led solutions that can absorb shocks now while laying foundations for medium- and longer-term development.Where the bridge matters mostThere are three areas where this bridge is critical. First, livelihoods and early recovery. Investments in jobs, basic services and community infrastructure can reduce the pressures that drive displacement. When people have viable ways to earn a living, they are less likely to move out of necessity. This also reduces the burden on humanitarian systems and can be an immediate stabilizing factor.Second, local systems and community capacity. Even in constrained contexts, support to community-level structures can have a powerful effect. It enables people to manage their own recovery, strengthens local decision-making and builds a sense of ownership. It helps communities to think longer term and create some community wealth. These are the building blocks of future governance.Third, economic alternatives to illicit activity. When large parts of local economies in some regions operate in grey or black markets, the implications go beyond livelihoods, they affect national and regional security. Creating alternatives—through job creation, support to small businesses and financing—gives people options. It reduces reliance on illicit networks, lowers risks of exploitation and opens pathways for more sustainable economic activity. These directly affect stability within Myanmar and across its borders.Navigating a complex funding landscapeDespite the clear need to bridge humanitarian and development approaches, funding structures often work against it. In Myanmar, much of the available funding is still categorized as humanitarian. This creates challenges for organizations with strong development expertise, which must adapt their language and delivery models to fit short-term funding criteria. At the same time, partner expectations are evolving, but not always consistently. Some continue to fund purely humanitarian outputs. Others expect development impact from humanitarian interventions. Still others fund development but want to demonstrate humanitarian impact.This creates a fragmented landscape: humanitarian funding for humanitarian results, humanitarian funding seeking development impact, development funding framed as humanitarian and, more rarely, development funding investing directly in long-term results.Navigating this requires flexibility and clarity of purpose. Development actors must be able to articulate the longer-term impact of their work, even when operating in a humanitarian context. The value lies precisely in that distinction: connecting immediate interventions to sustained recovery and future stability.A window of opportunityThere are signs of change. Some partners are beginning to recognize that continued investment in short-term relief, without parallel investments in recovery and livelihoods, is not sustainable.This creates an opportunity. By combining community-based approaches with more targeted economic interventions—jobs, enterprise development, access to finance, climate and energy solutions—it is possible to offer a more comprehensive response in a protracted crisis context, one that addresses both immediate needs and underlying drivers of crisis. But this window may not remain open indefinitely. As other actors reposition and global priorities shift, the space for shaping this agenda could narrow.Looking aheadMyanmar’s challenges are complex but the direction of response is clear. Humanitarian aid remains indispensable. But on its own, it cannot break cycles of crisis that are structural and self-reinforcing.Bridging humanitarian action and development is how people regain agency. It is how communities stabilize. And ultimately, it is how countries begin to move beyond crisis—not just survive it. *This story was originally published on the UNDP Myanmar website on 10 June 2026.

 *This opinion piece was originally published in Frontier Myanmar on 02 June 2026. The United Nations Resident and Humanitarian Coordinator ad interim in Myanmar reflects on her first six months in the country and what is needed to support the people amid conflict and a multifaceted crisis.      I have spent more than 25 years working in humanitarian and conflict-affected areas around the world, from the West Bank to Lebanon, and most recently in Bangladesh. But after six months in Myanmar as the United Nations resident and humanitarian coordinator ad interim, what has struck me most about the country is the striking contrasts – a land woven from countless cultures and blessed with natural abundance, yet so often shaken by disaster and scarred by conflict.Although there are peaceful pockets where daily life still carries on with a fragile sense of normalcy, millions of people across the country are living through a convergence of crises: conflict, displacement, natural disasters and economic hardship. There are places where entire communities have been uprooted, often more than once. Basic services have weakened or collapsed in many areas and livelihoods have disappeared. For many families, survival is a daily uncertainty.There is quiet strength in the Myanmar people, a resilience that feels almost unbreakable. And still, beneath that strength, you can sense the weight of suffering, the deep, unspoken exhaustion.     Exhaustion from years of conflict. Exhaustion from repeated disasters. Exhaustion from constantly rebuilding lives again and again only to see them destroyed once more. And increasingly, exhaustion from feeling forgotten.Over the past six months, I have travelled to Mandalay and Sagaing regions, as well as Rakhine and Shan states. Each place is different. Myanmar resists simple narratives. But what connects these regions is the way crises overlap and intensify each other.Myanmar’s challenges are often spoken about in different conversations: conflict in one, floods in another, economic hardships somewhere else. But for people here, these crises do not arrive one at a time.A flood is not just a flood when a family has already been displaced by conflict. Fuel shortages are not just an economic concern when they determine whether families can afford food and medicine or whether humanitarian supplies can reach remote communities. An earthquake is not just a natural disaster when communities were already living on the edge before the ground began to shake.This is why Myanmar is in such urgent need of dedicated support. In Mandalay and Sagaing, I sat with men and women whose lives have been shaped by both conflict and the earthquake that struck on March 28 last year. Some had already fled their homes because of conflict, only to be uprooted again after the earthquake. Despite not knowing whether their homes were still standing, when I asked if they would return home if they could, the answer from everyone was immediate: yes. It was a “yes” filled with longing and hope but also shadowed by the fear of being uprooted all over again.In Shan, I heard a similar message of the deep desire to return home – or what is left of it. None of the people I met wanted to depend on aid, or for their lives to be defined by displacement.They had jobs, homes, routines and dreams for the future before violence shook their communities. One of the deepest frustrations people carry is that this was not the life they had imagined – for themselves or their children. They ask not for endless assistance, but for the chance to rebuild their lives with dignity.The international community has a critical role to play. We bring resources, experience and global solidarity. That matters. But Myanmar has reinforced for me the idea that effective action must be grounded in the realities of the communities themselves and shaped by their leadership.At the same time, we must be honest about the constraints.Globally, humanitarian funding is under unprecedented strain. Crises around the world are increasing in number, scale and complexity, stretching already limited resources. Myanmar is competing for attention and funding in an increasingly crowded humanitarian space. The urgency of needs amid a diminished funding landscape makes sustained engagement all the more challenging.The impact of this is already being felt. Humanitarian actors are facing difficult choices about how to prioritise limited resources, even as needs continue to grow.Meanwhile, operational challenges on the ground — compounded by the fuel crisis caused by the war in the Middle East — are making responses more difficult and more expensive. The scarcity of fuel affects everything: aid delivery, health services, transport, markets and people’s daily ability to cope. What might otherwise be manageable challenges become critical barriers.One thing is absolutely clear to me: the response in Myanmar cannot shrink simply because the country’s crises have dragged on or there are too many competing priorities.Short-term humanitarian aid for life-saving measures, while essential, is not enough on its own. People need emergency support after floods, earthquakes and displacement. But to build a life of dignity and sustainability, communities also need investment in livelihoods, education, health services and recovery. This will help communities to avoid long-term dependence on aid and will equip them with the support they need to rebuild lives that are truly their own — and to believe, once again, that their future can be different from their present.Another worry that I have is the growing number of young people living in limbo.Across Myanmar, children are growing up amid conflict, displacement and economic hardship, cut off from stability and opportunities. The long term psychological and social consequences are immense. Around the world, conversations are increasingly focused on innovation and limitless possibilities for the future. But many young people in Myanmar are watching those conversations from the sidelines, wondering why their own lives continue to be defined by instability.People in Myanmar are not asking only to survive; they want, as we all do, the ability to rebuild their lives on their own terms. And above all, they want the world to not forget them and remain engaged even when these crises become politically complicated, or especially when things become politically complicated.Myanmar cannot become a country of permanent, overlapping crises that the world debates but learns to accept. I remain deeply moved by the courage I continue to witness across the country. People sharing what little they have with neighbours. Volunteers helping families recover from disasters. Teachers continuing to conduct classes in temporary displacement sites. Local humanitarian workers reaching places that are difficult and dangerous because they refuse to abandon people in need.However, resilience alone cannot sustain a country indefinitely. The Myanmar people deserve not only continued support from the international community, but also a genuine commitment to ensuring that this crisis does not slip further from global attention at the very moment when needs are greatest.Gwyn Lewis is the United Nations resident and humanitarian coordinator ad interim for Myanmar since October 2025.

Phoo Phoo grew up believing there were limits to what she could do.Born with a physical disability in Myanmar, she was unable to walk independently until the age of 11. Even then, every step as a child was uncertain. Without support, Phoo Phoo would often slip and fall.School did not last long. She had frequent seizures, which led her to stop attending school after kindergarten.For years, Phoo Phoo’s world remained small and confined.She could help her family with light household chores, but little else. It was difficult for her to watch children her age go to school, earn money, and help support their families.“I felt left behind,” she said. Turning a cornerThings began to change in October 2025, when Phoo Phoo received support through a partner organization, with funding from the OCHA-managed Myanmar Humanitarian Fund (MHF).Phoo Phoo's story reflects the MHF's broader commitment to disability-inclusive humanitarian action. Through a dedicated multi-year allocation launched in 2024, the Fund supports initiatives that help people with disabilities access rehabilitation services, assistive devices, vocational training and other tailored support. In 2025, MHF-funded projects assisted around 89,000 people with disabilities across Myanmar.She began physiotherapy, gradually building strength and stability. With a walking stick, she is now able to move with far more confidence.“I was afraid to walk before,” she said. “Now I can move on my own.”Phoo Phoo also joined vocational training, where she learned to make handwoven baskets using plastic strips. What started as basic training soon became something more.Over time, she began creating her own designs.Now, her baskets are sold in nearby towns, bringing in income that helps her family cover food and household expenses.For the first time, Phoo Phoo, who is the youngest member of her household, can contribute to her family’s income.Becoming independentThat change has shifted how she sees herself.“I never thought I could earn like this,” she said.Phoo Phoo once wanted to become a designer. Today, she is shaping her own path, creating new basket designs and teaching others.Phoo Phoo’s journey shows how the right support can open opportunities that once felt out of reach.“Before, people saw me as someone who couldn’t do things,” she said. “Now they see what I can do.”*This story was originally published on the UN OCHA website.