Yangon,
the capital of Myanmar, is a city of contrasts. In
Burmese, the name itself means "the end of strife and
danger," yet gunshots compete with Buddhist music as
both echo throughout the city. The shimmering Shwedagon
Pagoda is Yangon's most important landmark; the brilliant
temple provides a religious and cultural beacon that
shines upon all throughout the city. Under the
compassionate gaze of the Buddha, the Burmese people
strive for a better life. Although life is hard for most
of them, they nonetheless possess a peaceful, serene
quality. But despite the light from the temple, there is
darkness as well. The ironhanded control of the ruling
military regime has cast a relentless shadow over the
country's rugged path to democracy.
Famous
for its elegant white pointed pagodas covered with
glittering gold leaf, Myanmar (formerly known as Burma)
was once praised as the "country of pagodas."
Pagodas, monasteries, and brightly robed Buddhist monks
and nuns
comprise a significant part of the country's breathtaking
scenery.
In the mid-eleventh century, King Anawrahta founded the
first Burmese kingdom. It encompassed almost all of
present-day Myanmar. He introduced his people to Theravada
Buddhism, and through his efforts Theravada Buddhism
became the dominant religion of Myanmar. King Anawrahta
named Pagan his capital, and the city quickly became
filled with pagodas and temples. At its height, the city
was said to have contained four million pagodas. Even
today, thousands of pagodas still dot the region, winning
Pagan the laudatory appellation, "the Angkor Wat of
Myanmar."
The current capital of Myanmar is Yangon. Like Pagan,
Yangon contains many pagodas and temples, but the most
famous is Shwedagon Pagoda. Built over 2,500 years ago, it
towers almost 100 meters above the city. Reputed to be the
world's tallest pagoda, it is the spiritual symbol of
Myanmar's Buddhism. This magnificent structure is plated
with 66 tons of pure gold. The pinnacle of the pagoda is
studded with more than 7,000 diamonds, rubies and other
gems, and is topped with a 76-carat diamond resting at the
very tip. The glorious pagoda is surrounded by 68 smaller
stupas (shrines that house relics or mark the locations of
auspicious events.) In the sun, the pagoda has such a
dazzling brilliance that it is difficult to look steadily
at it. The best time for a visit is at dusk, just as the
sun is setting. As the sky turns from an azure to a deep
blue, it forms a striking but harmonious contrast to the
giant golden tower. The atmosphere
at twilight is elegant, quiet, serene and contemplative.
The Shwedagon Pagoda is Yangon's most important
cultural treasure. Constant streams of devotees wait in
endless lines to make donations to the temple. It is said
of the Burmese people that no matter how poor they are,
they never hesitate to finance the gilding of Buddhist
statues or provide alms to monks. Theravada Buddhism is
the center of individual life and the monastery is the
center of the community. This is especially true in the
villages, where most of the population lives. Although
there are some Hindu and Muslim elements, over 85 percent
of the population is Buddhist. The extent of the influence
of Buddhism in Myanmar is succinctly expressed by the
common Burmese maxim: "To be a Burmese, one first has
to be a Buddhist."
Within the compounds of the Shwedagon Pagoda, I met
Ashin Vinaya, a young monk who enjoys practicing his
English with foreign tourists. He proudly told me that
Burmese monks and nuns still observe the oldest Buddhist
traditions. They shave their heads, they carry bowls to
beg for food, they don't eat after noon, they observe Waso
(the "Buddhist Lent"), and their personal
belongings consist of only three robes and an alms bowl.
Their simple and frugal lives have been virtually
unchanged since 2,500 years ago, when the Buddha was still
alive.
Although Ashin became a monk to fulfill his parents'
expectations, he genuinely enjoys the monastic life. He
spends a typical day immersed in Buddhism, meditating,
improving his language skills, and learning anything to
which he has access. It seems that as a monk, Ashin leads
the most carefree life. When he wants to eat, he needs
only to beg; when he is short of money, he needs only to
inform his sponsors of his need. With few desires and a
high moral character, he feels at ease even having to rely
on alms to live. He almost convinced me that being a monk
is the most wonderful thing in the world.
It is a common practice for Burmese males to take up
temporary monastic practice at the age of 14 or 15. Every
Burmese male is expected to do so at least twice in his
lifetime. However, there is usually no objection if the
male wishes to adopt monastic practices more than twice.
Because a person earns great merit by doing so, taking the
vows more than twice in a lifetime is seen as a positive
decision. It is believed that this temporary ordination
helps eliminate misfortunes and accumulate blessings for
both the monk and his family.
At
Mahagandhayon Monastery in Mandalay, a large city in
central Myanmar, a large crowd of tourists gathered to
watch 1,000 monks as they dined. Although it was not yet
eleven o'clock, monks dressed in crimson robes moved in
orderly processions amidst silver containers of gleaming
white rice, a large vat of milk tea, and trays of neatly
sliced pastry. The monks seemed not to notice the
incessant click of camera shutters and the harsh glare of
flashbulbs as tourists tried to capture the beauty of the
moment.
For most German and French tourists, Buddhism is an
unfamiliar and exotic religion. The scene of monks dining
together certainly holds charm for them. But I had to
inquire: Won't the tourists who flock in large numbers to
the monastery disturb the peace and tranquility the monks
need to carry out their spiritual cultivation? In response
to this question, the tour guide from the monastery
explained that it was the previous abbot's idea to open
the temple to tourists. The old monk was of the opinion
that a spiritual cultivator should be able to maintain a
peaceful mind no matter how noisy the environment. In
addition, introducing the monastic life to the public
helps to promulgate Buddhism.
The Burmese believe that education should be available
to all and that real knowledge exists only in the
teachings of the Buddha. This explains why everyone I met
in Myanmar seemed to be so well versed in Buddhism.
Anything they said, even casual comments, could contain
enlightening, inspiring messages. Statements such as,
"The way you treat others is a reflection of
yourself," or "Virtues should follow a man like
his shadow," epitomize the level of integration of
Buddhist philosophy into daily life.
The predominately Buddhist culture even influences the
workplace. A native friend of mine said that it is not
unusual for Burmese workers to retire at 45 and spend the
rest of their lives at a monastery. Continuing to lead a
humdrum, secular existence after reaching 45 would be seen
as violating the doctrine of Theravada Buddhism and having
had no luck in life. Stephan Jooris, a member of Medecins
Sans Frontieres (MSF) who was stationed in Cambodia one
and a half years ago, has an interesting perspective. He
remarked that compared with Cambodians, the Burmese are
more devoted to work, better able to maintain good
relations with others, and do not care that much about
monetary reward. At a commercial hotel in Yangon, Mr. Lin,
a Taiwanese
businessman, told me that it is relatively easy to manage
Burmese employees. They are mild in temperament and have a
high rate of literacy. But he felt that they had certain
shortcomings as well. For example, his employees are often
too passive and seldom take any initiative at work. This
may actually have less to do with Buddhist culture than
with the oppressive rule of the country's military regime,
under whose influence the people have developed a mindset
of "The less you do, the fewer mistakes you
make."
Watching sunrise and sunset is a must for every tourist
visiting Pagan. Before the day broke, I stumbled in
darkness out of the hotel where I was staying. My driver
was already waiting at the entrance. When our coach moved
off, pagodas of all kinds and styles soon began to greet
my eyes. Under the light of the rising sun, the shapes and
contours of the pagodas gradually grew clearer,
mesmerizing me with their beauty. These temples, whose
magnificence can easily be compared with the pyramids of
Egypt, not only reflect the glory of Myanmar religion and
culture--they also help bring in a lot of money for the
country.
The Burmese start their day with a hearty "Mingalar
ba ("Good morning)." It is not unusual for a
native Burmese to have tea three, four, or even five times
a day. The ubiquitous teahouses and people roaming about
in slippers demonstrate a leisurely lifestyle.
I met Aung Thant while sightseeing at the Shwezigon
Pagoda. Although the boy was already 14, he was as small
as an eight-year-old child. His pet phrase was, "Not
bad, not bad." He approached tourists mainly to sell
the postcards hidden in his big bag. Young but mature, he
told me that he wanted to become a tour guide after he
grew up so he could make more money to help support his
family. I soon found myself liking this little boy, who
taught me to write the numerals one to ten in Burmese. But
I also knew
where to draw the line with my charity. As a tourist, I
was careful and very aware that I should not give away too
much money to the locals under the excuse of helping the
poor. Doing so would only spoil their simple,
unsophisticated lifestyle.
Yangon in March was so sweltering that I felt I might
melt from the heat, but the locals seemed to take it in
stride. My view from the Strand Hotel at this time of year
was one of peace and prosperity. In fact, the view might
have been no different from what one might have seen in
1885, when the country was still under British colonial
rule. The British Empire left a large legacy in Yangon--magnificent
colonial style buildings, the British system of
measurements, English breakfast and afternoon tea, and
last but not least, Burmese English. But my view also
reflected a long and unique Burmese culture as well, as
elegant women with faces smeared with thanakha (yellow
cosmetic paste made from sandalwood) walked below my
window, and suntanned men wearing sarongs supported their
right elbows with their left palms to show respect when
giving or receiving things from others. Under the
administration of the British, Yangon developed into a
prosperous city and became Myanmar's political, economic,
and cultural center. The value of the Burmese currency
back in the colonial days clearly indicated that Yangon
was once one of the most affluent cities in South Asia.
Sadly, those days of glory for Yangon, and for Myanmar as
a whole, lie well in the past.
Time seems to have slowed down in this country. There are
no ticking clocks to remind me of the relentless
passage of time. Instead, a slow, measured tempo seems to
govern local life. Myanmar is perhaps the only country
unaffected by the wave of globalization that is sweeping
the world. Decades of isolation imposed by the military
dictatorship have enabled the country to preserve many of
its traditional features and customs, making it a country
worth exploring.
But Myanmar's isolation, while helping to preserve
age-old traditions, has also prevented it from keeping
pace with modern developments that people in other
countries take for granted. What disturbed me the most was
the lack of modern communication with the outside world.
All postal, telegraph, telephone, and broadcasting systems
in Myanmar
are controlled by the government. Telephones are uncommon,
and most of them are concentrated in the capital. The only
public places where international telephone calls can be
made are five-star hotels and the Central Telephone and
Telegraph office. Phone calls from these locations are
very expensive and the connections usually poor. A
cellular phone costs as much as US$2,000.
If making a phone call is difficult, obtaining
information about the outside world is even more so. Few
radio stations are available, and there are only seven
television sets per 1,000
people. My tour guide in Pagan didn't even know that a
tall viewing tower in his city was about to be completed
in June 2005. He didn't know about it, that is, until he
learned of its existence by listening to the BBC! If the
Burmese people wish to know more about the outside world
than what little is offered on the one state-sponsored
television channel, they need to spend a staggering US$150
to have a satellite dish installed, far too expensive for
the average citizen.
The inadequate communication infrastructure partially
explains why a majority of the population were unaware of
the tsunami on December 26, 2004, even though Myanmar was
one of the countries affected. Even the meager news of the
disaster that they
were able to gather was largely incorrect. For example, I
was very surprised when a local tour guide claimed that
Myanmar was one of the countries that rendered financial
aid to the tsunami-devastated nations. A Taiwanese
businessman later told me that the Burmese government had
refused to accept foreign help after the tsunami--perhaps
because they wanted to prevent foreign intervention in
their domestic affairs.
Kite-shaped Myanmar is so rich in natural resources
that it was once described as a place where people struck
gold when excavating latrine pits and hit oil when digging
water cisterns. Rubies, emeralds, and other precious and
semi-precious gems seem to be everywhere, as well as
uranium, the raw material of nuclear weapons. Myanmar was
a well-known rice-producing country only a few decades
ago. It exported three million tons of rice in 1939,
ranking first among all countries worldwide. In addition
to being rich in natural resources such as teak, gems,
natural gas, and oil, the country also has an important
strategic position in South Asia. It is easy to understand
why it attracted the covetous eyes of Britain in the early
19th century.
Myanmar
became a colony of the British Empire after they
forcefully annexed it through three Anglo-Burmese Wars,
between 1824 and 1885. Although colonial rule brought some
modernization to the reclusive country, it was very
unpopular with the resident population. In 1942, General U
Aung San, in
an effort to secure Myanmar's independence from England,
enlisted the help of Japan and drove the British out of
the country. However, after winning the trust of the
Burmese, the Japanese attempted to rule the country. A
resistance movement soon sprang up to oust the new
occupiers. In 1948, U Aung San helped to negotiate the
agreement that granted Myanmar its independence from
Britain, but he was assassinated before he could see the
agreement implemented. The country toppled into chaos, as
hill tribes, communists, socialists, and Muslims struggled
for power. Myanmar was now like a kite with a broken
string, drifting aimlessly without direction, at the mercy
of the political winds.
In 1962, Ne Win and a group of generals seized
political power in a coup and overthrew the struggling
democratic government. The country fell under the
repressive dictatorship of a military junta. This
dictatorship--it called itself the Revolutionary
Council--was one of the most oppressive in the world. One
afternoon in 1964, the junta's army drove into town and
made a short broadcast announcement: "All banks are
state-owned; all deposits are frozen." In the blink
of an eye, the Burmese people found their life savings
gone; everything had been appropriated by the military
dictatorship.
Another
broadcast announcement made in May 1965 forbade the use of
large-denomination banknotes (K50 and K100) and declared
the possession of them to be illegal. Overnight, what had
once been legal tender became nothing but waste paper. The
volatile Burmese government often issued such orders in
the morning and rescinded them later in the day.
Ne Win continued his firm control of the country and
steered it though various political upheavals through the
late 1980's. When he retired in 1988, Defense Minister
General Saw Maung announced the formation of a State Law
and Order Restoration Council (SLORC). The ruling military
dictatorship tends to use a "carrot and stick"
approach when it comes to governing the populace.
Unfortunately, in Myanmar, the "stick" is
emphasized more than the "carrot"--it remains
one of the most insensitive and brutal military
dictatorships in the world.
Daw Aung San Suu Kyi knows how oppressive the
government can be. She is the daughter of one of Burma's
most cherished heroes, the martyred General Aung San. She
has equaled her father's heroism with her calm but
passionate advocacy of freedom and democracy in the
country. In July 1989, Aung San Suu Kyi was placed under
house arrest by the military government for staging and
speaking at mass gatherings, which were illegal in
Myanmar.
After an assassination attempt staged by General Maung
Aye against the life of Daw Aung San Suu Kyi in May 2003,
Myanmar's military regime put her under house arrest again
under the pretext of protecting her. As a pro-democracy
champion and leader of the opposition National League for
Democracy Party, she has spent a good part of the past 15
years in some form of detention under the junta. The
dictatorship seems to be playing for time, hoping to
dampen bit by bit the democratic aspirations of the
Burmese people with its dilatory tactics.
Despite the strong-arm tactics of the government and
the frustrating delays intended to sidetrack her efforts,
Aung San Suu Kyi remains strong in her belief that a
better future awaits her country. In strong opposition to
the ruling SLROC, she is unafraid to state publicly that
the junta rules Myanmar through fear and intimidation. Her
efforts in non-violent protest, for which she won the
Nobel Prize in 1991, have given the Burmese hope that
their long struggle against the military regime will one
day lead to political and economic reform.
Until that day, however, an atmosphere of fear still
prevails in the country. But there is change in the air:
just three or four months before I visited Myanmar, the
oppressive political situation underwent a tremendous
shift.
In October 2004, Myanmar's prime minister was arrested
on charges of corruption and reportedly placed under house
arrest. Khin Nyunt was the chief of military intelligence
and the third highest official in the country's political
hierarchy. With his arrest, the omnipresent intelligence
agents, deprived of backing from this once powerful man,
were gone. This change brought a temporary respite to the
tense political atmosphere in the country.
After Khin Nyunt was removed from power, the Myanmar
Morning Post, licensed by Khin Nyunt himself, was forced
to cease publication and close. Anything bearing his
inscription or signature was removed from public display.
People to whom he had awarded medals or plaques promptly
disposed of the objects. Even photographs taken with the
former official were destroyed. People were deeply afraid
that even owning objects associated with Khin Nyunt would
involve them in the political witchhunt.
After he had been with us for two days, my tour guide
shared with us that he is frequently asked by tourists
about the sensitive political situation in Myanmar.
"If I told them what I really think, I'd be locked up
in prison," he said to me in an
undertone.
When he can't avoid answering tourists' questions, he
tells them a story that illustrates the atmosphere of fear
under the ruling junta: "An aged lion who was the
ruler of the animal kingdom appointed a bear, a monkey,
and a rabbit to be his ministers. Later, in order to root
out opposition to his rule, the lion asked all three
ministers to answer a question: 'How does my breath
smell?' The bear answered honestly, and was promptly
killed and devoured by the lion. The monkey, hoping to
avoid the fate of the bear, tried to flatter the lion with
false compliments. He was also killed and devoured. Only
the rabbit, who said he had a stuffy nose and couldn't
smell anything, escaped the same tragic fate."
When I was in Mandalay, I visited the Moustache
Brothers, a comedy troupe led by brothers Par Par Lay and
Lu Maw and their cousin Lu Zaw. The Moustache Brothers
support democracy and freedom of speech through their
performances.
They have paid a high price for their comedy, to be
sure. The Moustache Brothers were once sentenced to seven
years in jail after performing political skits satirizing
the military junta at Daw Aung San Suu Kyi's house in
1996. They were released from prison
18 months early, in July 2001, due to international
pressure. Although the government does not allow the
brothers to perform in public, they still perform to
groups of tourists who crowd into their home in south
Mandalay.
Lu Maw told us he was glad to see foreign tourists
coming to his country, because they can help publicize the
plight of the Burmese people. In a way that the country's
own citizens cannot do, tourists can tell the world how
the Burmese long for democratic freedom and how they
suffer under the oppressive rule of the SLROC. The courage
and humor of the Moustache Brothers have made them an
important spiritual symbol of the Burmese pro-democracy
struggle. Although the performances they put on the night
I visited--still revolving around the old topics of
bribery and corruption in the government--did not tell me
anything new, I could still sense the warm democratic
embers burning behind their comical satires. Using humor
as a weapon, they are bravely fighting the repressive
ruling regime in their own way, hoping that the dawn of
democracy will soon break over the land of Myanmar.
The light of democracy once glowed in Myanmar. In 1988,
massive pro-democracy demonstrations erupted, led by
students, monks, and ordinary Burmese citizens. The
movement was brutally crushed by the ruling dictatorship.
In 1996, after university students initiated protest
demonstrations in Yangon, Myanmar's universities were shut
down on the orders of the military government. Because the
embers of democracy have been repeatedly smothered by the
ruling regime, the Burmese people are now pinning their
hopes on the effect of foreign exchange income brought in
by tourism. In addition, many hope that steps toward
democracy will come as the country prepares to chair the
Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) in 2006.
The ASEAN chairmanship rotates from country to country
in alphabetical order, and Myanmar is the next in line to
chair the forum. While most citizens feel that the summit
will provide another foothold for reform, some Burmese are
not pleased with their country's upcoming role in the
ASEAN summit. They hold the view that only when the
military regime is completely isolated and cut off from
outside contact with the international community will
there be a strong enough incentive to carry out meaningful
democratic reforms in the country.
In May 1997, Bill Clinton issued an executive order
barring any further investment in Myanmar by US
businesses, but the sanctions had little apparent impact
on the military government. In contrast, the ban on all
imports from Myanmar, imposed by George Bush in 2003, has
dealt a devastating blow to the ruling junta. It has
caused a sharp decline in the number of business travelers
to the country and affected the few industries that helped
support the Myanmar economy.
Myanmar's textile industry has been severely affected
by the sanctions imposed in 2003, and many garment
factories have been forced to shut their doors. The
textile industry was a major source of income for the
Burmese government. Unfortunately, much of the money the
regime earned went to support the expansion of armaments,
with little spent on the country's infrastructure and the
fulfillment of the people's basic needs.
Some citizens are happy to see economic sanctions
imposed on Myanmar, because they hope the sanctions will
serve as a stimulus to political reform. Others are
opposed to such measures, holding that economic sanctions
are counter-productive and inhumane. They question who
will suffer the most in the long run, the government or
the average Burmese citizen. The question of the
long-range effectiveness of economic sanctions against
Myanmar is a major dilemma facing the Burmese.
Ever since Myanmar was founded, its people have lived
in a state of flux. From King Anawrahta in the 11th
century to British colonial rule in the 19th century, from
Japanese occupation to military socialist dictatorship,
the people have learned how to wait for a better life.
These are questions that no one can answer with
certainty. But still they wait, hopeful for a brighter
future.
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