Landmines in Myanmar: Politically explosive IN A clean, spacious and well-aired room, two young boys are learning to walk again using their new prosthetic legs. The Hpa-an Orthopaedic Rehabilitation Centre in Kayin (or Karen) state is the only clinic of its kind in Myanmar. Financed almost entirely by the International Committee of the Red Cross (without any help from the state), the centre has fitted some 7,000 prosthetic limbs since its opening in 2003. Around two-thirds of those have gone to the victims of landmines. South-eastern Myanmar is one of the most mine-ridden regions in the world. Geneva Call, a Swiss NGO, reckons that over 5m Burmese people live in areas contaminated by landmines, most of which are concentrated on the long border with Thailand (see map). This comes as a result of decades of conflict between armed ethnic groups, struggling for autonomy, and the tatmadaw, the government's armed forces. According to the International Campaign to Ban Landmines (ICBL), the Burmese government has the shameful distinction of being the only state in the world to have scattered landmines every year since the 1997 Mine Ban Treaty, which the country has not signed. In 2012 the only other government still laying landmines was Syria's. In Myanmar landmines - "sleeping soldiers" - carry little stigma with the army or its opponents. "They are still viewed very much as a military asset rather than a humanitarian issue," says a director at one Western anti-mine lobby. And it is not just the ethnic groups and the tatmadaw who view landmines that way; civilians have also frequently used them as a means of protecting their business or property. Since 1999 over 3,200 casualties are reported to have been caused by mines; the real figure is assumed to be far higher. Part of the reason why the statistics are murky is that until February 2012, when Thein Sein, the president, requested international help with clearing mines, the government had never publicly acknowledged that the country had a landmine problem at all. "Until then you couldn't even talk about mine victims," says Bjarne Ussing of DanChurchAid, a Danish NGO that provides education about the risks of mines as well as assistance to survivors. De-mining was out of the question. But all that is changing as Myanmar opens up. In September an agreement was signed with Norwegian People's Aid, another NGO, to clear mines in five of the most highly contaminated states. In November the Burmese government opened the EU-financed Myanmar Peace Centre in Yangon and announced that a mine-action centre would be one of its central components. In April Myanmar held its very first mine-awareness day, and in May the ICBL was able to make its first official visit to the country. Progress is painfully slow. Though the government said it was reviewing its stance on the Mine Ban Treaty almost a year ago, it has moved no further towards signing it. For now, the mine-action centre is just a rather dilapidated building without staff or offices. No de-mining by humanitarian groups, nor any proper surveying, has yet taken place. This is mainly because, despite Mr Thein Sein's reform programme and the signing of several new ceasefire agreements since January 2012, ethnic groups lack confidence in the government and in the prospects for peace. "We cannot trust the army because of the past 20 or 30 years," says a spokesman for the New Mon State Party (NMSP), the main insurgency in one of the most heavily mined regions. Despite its agreement to clear mines, Norwegian People's Aid will not start work anywhere until it has the formal agreement of the insurgency operating there. On May 14th the NMSP publicly stated that it was ready for a landmine survey, but almost two months later it still had not officially notified the government of this. While the delay drags on, the government continues to produce landmines at a factory in western Bago (Pegu). Since 2011, when a 17-year ceasefire broke down in Kachin state, persistent reports suggest new mines are being laid. At the prosthetic clinic in Kayin state the staff become edgy when asked about landmines. At a mine-risk education workshop in neighbouring Mon state, a Burmese NGO needed assurance that its participation would be kept a secret before this correspondent was allowed to attend. The leader told the workshop that "landmines do not know the difference between war and peace." Until they are gone, nor will Myanmar.