PLUNGING HEADLONG INTO THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

October 22, 2007  

Watching reports recently about the crackdown on monks and democracy protesters by Burma's (Myanmar's) military junta, I recalled my visit there in December 1977. I remember how our US Ambassador in Rangoon described Burma at the time. He called it, “A country plunging headlong into the Eighteenth Century.” Since 1992 the Burmese government has opened ever so slightly to the outside world. Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear the situation has changed all that much in 30 years.

In 1977 I was a US Army major studying Chinese in Taiwan. A China Foreign Area Officer in the days before US diplomatic recognition of the People’s Republic of China, my two fellow officers and I were unable to travel there. Instead, the Army told us to travel around Asia and “appreciate the situation.”

Our trip to Burma came at the end of a six-week, eight-country trek through Southeast and South Asia that began in The Philippines and ended in Pakistan. Arriving at the airport in Rangoon was like going back in time. Except for the jet we'd arrived in, our surroundings were right out of the 1930s. Immigration procedures entering the country were right out of the Gestapo handbook.

Our hotel, left over from the British colonial period, was grand architecture sullied by neglect. The desk clerk, a middle aged man with a penchant for process, took half an hour to sign us in and give us the keys to our rooms. We saw no other guests. In those days few foreigners traveled to Burma. We were allowed in as visitors to the American Embassy.

After a series of briefings at the embassy on the political, military, and economic situation in Burma, we were warned about the consequences of violating Burmese law. The embassy political officer told us horror stories about Americans thrown in jail for minor infractions. “Our ability to get you out is quite limited,” he said frowning.

With that comforting thought in mind, moving about Rangoon on foot, we were watched by plain clothed police lurking in the shadows at various locations along our route. Black market money changers approached us. According to our embassy, half of them were police trying to catch the rare unsuspecting American in a sting operation.

The legendary Shwedagon Pagoda, where eight of Gautama Buddha’s hairs are supposedly enshrined, was magnificent. Studying the faces of Burmese making offerings at the temple, we saw dignity and determination beneath a facade of resignation and caution. The contrast between the beauty and serenity of this Buddhist temple and the tension in the air was palpable.

Flying up country to Mandalay, our Burma Air Fokker F-27 landed at a gravel strip in Bagan to pick up passengers. A woman boarded the plane with two live chickens bound together at the legs. She threw them in the overhead rack. Two soldiers carrying loaded rifles and live hand grenades on their ammunition belts boarded behind her. They placed their weapons and ammunition next to the chickens. By the time the pilot took off, the chickens had calmed down. Our hotel in Mandalay had no hot water pipes. The food was meager, the hotel staff somber.

The highlight of our trip was Lashio. This small town of 5,000 inhabitants in northern Shan State, overlooking the Nam Yao River valley, is situated at the end of the Burma Road of World War II fame. In colonial times it was the summer resort for the well-off Brits. The European train station, court house, and clock tower built circa 1900, like our hotel in Rangoon, were beautiful but abused.

We stopped at a street cart selling fried meat (not further identified) on a stick. While my colleagues purchased and ate whatever it was, I noticed a pathetic crippled beggar sitting beside the street nearby. As I watched him, a dark-skinned middle-aged Burmese man in traditional attire approached me. “I say, are you in government service,” he asked in perfect Queen’s English. We talked briefly until he saw a soldier approach, then he moved off quickly.

Just outside the city a long row of Victorian style homes lined both sides of the street. But for the lone house at the end, used then as a Burmese Army officers club, the houses, in remarkably good condition for their age, stood empty and undisturbed. It was as if their European residents were still in Rangoon preparing to return with the summer.

Back in Rangoon, we flew on to Calcutta, India. As we departed, I wondered what the future would bring for Burma.

Most of Asia has come a long way in the past 30 years. Burma, however, remains mired in the past and crippled by a totalitarian regime. Sanctions on the Burmese government will have little effect, I fear. And with the protests squelched, Burma will quickly fade once again from the news into the background.

The Burmese people, like their other Southeast Asian neighbors, are a gentle people with dignity and charm as exemplified by their best known icon Aung San Suu Kyi. The pro-democracy activist and leader of the National League for Democracy in Burma is a prisoner of conscience and advocate of nonviolent resistance.

I’m glad Laura Bush spoke out on behalf of the people of Burma. I hope she continues to do so.