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Light And Shadow
Myanmar's Rugged Path to Democracy
By Pan Mei-ling
Translated and adapted by Wu Hsiao-ting and Steven Turner
Photographs by Tou Chih-kang
Reprinted with permission of Rhythms Monthly Magazine
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.