Thu 14 Oct 2004
Filed under: News, Opinion
Burma is one of the jewels of South-east Asia but the ruling military junta has a questionable human rights record. This week the annual Asia-Europe (Asem) conference extended the hand of friendship, leading Emily Andrews to ask whether it is now acceptable to visit “The Golden Land”.
Gleaming temples, majestic rivers and a world cut off from modern-day living. No internet, no ATMs, no Coca-Cola and no credit cards.
To many travelers it sounds the perfect holiday getaway, the perfect escape from the stress and strain of modern life.
Yet last summer the British Government called for all tourists to boycott Burma.
Burma has a terrible record of human rights abuses, perpetrated by its repressive regime, which, with supreme irony, is called the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC).
The country has been under military rule, in one form or another, for more than 40 years - so why now increase pressure on British visitors to boycott the country?
The short answer is to punish the regime for re-arresting Burma’s elected leader, Aung San Suu Kyi (whom the Burmese refer to as “the Lady”), and other leaders of the National League for Democracy in a bloody strike on May 30 last year.
The United States responded to this act of violence with new trade sanctions, forcing US clothing companies to cancel contracts, putting tens of thousands of Burmese women out of work and - according to critics of sanctions - into prostitution.
The European Union has always taken a more measured stance, saying sanctions should “ensure the ordinary people of Burma suffer as little as possible”.
As to visiting the country, it prefers to allow travelers to make up their own minds.
The trouble, say the Burmese, is that a tourist boycott misses its mark.
“It’s all very well for expatriate Burmese to push for sanctions but they don’t have to live here,” says a taxi driver in Rangoon. “The money the regime makes from tourists is nothing compared to what it makes from oil and gas, from gems and from kickbacks from the opium trade.
“We think 500,000 ordinary people depend on tourism for a living. If the EU follows Britain’s line, everyone living in Pagan (the country’s main tourist site) will be destitute.”
The British Government has come up with a number of reasons why tourism to Burma is “inappropriate” now.
The most persuasive argument is that Aung San Suu Kyi apparently does not want tourists to come. This belief stems from her call for a boycott of the government-sponsored Visit Myanmar Year in 1996 “as a demonstration of solidarity with the democratic movement in Burma”.
But asked at the time, by the writer and former Buddhist monk Alan Clements, whether she was advocating that travelers and tourists stay away entirely, she replied: “No, we are not doing anything like that.”
I examined, re-examined and twisted my conscience before visiting Burma two months ago.
I decided that if I were to go, I would do my utmost to put my hard-earned dollars into the hands of the local Burmese and not into the pockets of the government.
Starting in the bustling capital of Rangoon, it was easy to believe that this was any other Far Eastern country, complete with crumbling colonial buildings and chattering crowds.
It’s a city that seems to have embraced capitalism wholeheartedly with its half-built skyscrapers, shopping malls and smart cars.
But every so often the billboards of the SPDC stare down at you with their chilling message of “Everyone must work for the good of the state” and “Foreign stooges will not be tolerated.” I wasn’t entirely sure what, or who, foreign stooges were, but I certainly had not written my occupation
on my visa - on the whole, foreign journalists are banned from Burma.
And even in the capital people were very unwilling to be drawn into any talk of the political situation.
Using public transport, eating in local restaurants and using
nongovernmental hotels all served to salve my conscience but all the local Burmese I talked to said trade was down and their wages were suffering.
Even in Pagan, a spectacular plain dotted with thousands of 800-year-old temple ruins, I didn’t encounter another British tourist.
This archaeological site has to be one of the most amazing I have ever seen.
At a bend in the river Irrawaddy, a Baman king built his kingdom here, littering the lush greenery with wave after wave of Buddhist temples, their gilded stupas glittering in the bright sunshine.
It is Burma’s premier tourist attraction, but it’s not busy.
In the local market of Nyaung U, the traders don’t necessarily depend on my dollars but the brightly coloured lunghis, wooden carvings, Burmese satchels and mellow cigars we buy are all helping to sustain the local economy.
On the day-long boat journey to Bagan, sailing down the sluggish Irrawaddy, I meet Alexander.
He wants to know all about Tony Blair, the Queen and what our Western media is like.
I explain we have a democratic elections every five years and one of the roles of the press is to hold our politicians to account.
He ponders this explanation for a minute, waits until the boat’s captain has walked past, and whispers: “You are very lucky.”
I watch as an elderly Burmese woman walks round the boat trying to sell intricately woven blankets to the predominantly Italian and German tourists on the boat.
She’s persistent but her blankets are cheap - about 1,800 kyat ($2).
This is a rare chance for ordinary Burmese to speak to foreigners on a busy boat.
But the tourists wave her away impatiently, rather as one might swot a fly.
She may not speak English but over a shared cigar she still manages to communicate to me that she is a widow, has three sons and needs the money.
If tourists are going to behave like this then Aung San Suu Kyi is right: don’t come to Burma. But for those who have a genuine interest in the country and its plight, the Burmese will be very pleased to show you around and bend your ear.