SETTING FREE "THE LADY"

Freedom, as Flannery O'Connor wrote, cannot be conceived simply. Few could understand this better than Aung San Suu Kyi, Burma's chief dissident and winner of the 1991 Nobel Peace Prize. Placed under house arrest by a military junta in 1989, Suu Kyi spent six years confined to her family's deteriorating lakeside bungalow in Rangoon. At any time, she was free to join her husband and two children in London -- knowing that the generals would never allow her back. That was a definition of freedom she refused to accept. When the junta abruptly announced last week that Suu Kyi, 50, was free after 2,190 days of incarceration, it was a constant stream of well -- wishers, not guards, that kept her in the bungalow. Upon learning she was being released, Suu Kyi told TIME, "I said to myself, 'Well, I'm free.' But then I have always felt free."

But how free is she -- or will she remain? As the week went on, it became apparent that there was nothing simple, or certain, about Suu Kyi's liberty. It was tempting to imagine a Burmese equivalent of the release of Nelson Mandela: in other words, a signal that the 21 generals who govern the country through the State Law and Order Restoration Council, known by the acronym SLORC, intend to take Burma in a new direction with some important, if undefined, role for the steely lady.

That hopeful scenario is far from being a done deal, however. The government made no public statement about the ending of Suu Kyi's house arrest. Nor is it clear that she is truly free to say or do what she wishes. Inside the bungalow at 52 University Road last week, SLORC intelligence officers in plain clothes mingled with the visiting oppositionists, diplomats and journalists who gathered. Many of her supporters suspect that the generals are merely trying to woo foreign governments, investors and such institutions as the World Bank and International Monetary Fund by making a single concession-the release of the lady -- with no intention of further loosening their hold on Burma. That grip is indeed tight: the government jails and tortures political prisoners, forces peasants to labor on roads and railways without pay, and is supervising the writing of a new constitution for its 45 million people that will enshrine the military's role in running the country.

Suu Kyi admits that her release raises more questions than it answers. "Was it just a publicity stunt?" she asked TIME. "Or was it designed to get more investment from abroad? Was it merely a way to lighten international pressure, or was it really for the good of the nation for all of us to work together? I certainly hope it is the latter, but only time will tell." At the same time, she has been painstakingly cautious in her statements. She confessed to a natural affinity for the military because her father, Burmese nationalist hero Aung San, was a general. Her charm offensive was extraordinary -- but how will the junta react when the iron-willed Suu Kyi starts speaking more freely? "They have been known to misjudge the situation very badly," says Zunetta Liddell, a researcher for Human Rights Watch/Asia in London, "and I think they may have done so now too."