WHEN Myanmar last held a general election, in November 2010, Aung San Suu Kyi was under house arrest. Her National League for Democracy (NLD) boycotted that election, which the party close to the armed forces, the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP), won handily. Yet six days later Myanmar’s best-known dissident was free. Much has changed. Five years ago people dared not discuss politics. Now tea shops hum with debate. Ms Suu Kyi and her party campaign openly. She smiles and waves from posters urging people to vote for the NLD, which this time is contesting the election that is due on November 8th.

The polls will see national and local parliaments elected. (Three months later, the bicameral national assembly will choose a president from among three candidates nominated by the upper house, the lower house and the armed forces.) With a quarter of parliamentary seats still reserved for the army, Ms Suu Kyi would need to win two-thirds of contested seats to secure a majority. That is extremely unlikely, not least because the parties of ethnic minorities will pick up seats in their regions. Yet the USDP may struggle to win more than 15% of contested seats. So even counting the seats reserved for the armed forces, it may fall far short of a majority. The election offers something most unusual for Myanmar: political uncertainty.

The election is not about policy differences among the parties. The USDP stands for army-backed continuity. The ethnic parties stand for the interests of their own communities. And though the NLD has made some feints towards policy—taking stands in favour of sustainable development, good governance, reducing inequality and other platitudes—it is chiefly a vehicle for the cult of Ms Suu Kyi.

The cult is enforced with discipline. Among other things, NLD candidates are banned from talking to journalists. One candidate from the Mandalay region, in the middle of the country, conveys no policy message to voters and makes no personal appeals. “Don’t think about anything,” he tells them. “Just look for this symbol,” he said, pointing to a badge on his lapel depicting the NLD’s fighting peacock beneath a star against a red background, “and tick the box.”

Breaking the ban, the candidate told this correspondent that if his party won a majority, its priority would be to change the constitution to allow Ms Suu Kyi to become president. The constitution currently bars anyone with a foreign spouse or children from the top job—a restriction many believe was written specifically for Ms Suu Kyi. But amending the constitution requires 75% of parliamentary votes—an impossibility for the NLD without some scarcely imaginable deal with the army-backed establishment.

In recent weeks Ms Suu Kyi has displayed an autocratic style, rejecting the parliamentary candidacies of several veteran activists in her party and expelling ten party members who took exception to her choice of candidates. Some say she fears rivals. Her defenders counter with the need for party unity and young, electable candidates. Either way, the fuss is unlikely to deter her fans among Myanmar’s many urban voters.