(Note: this is an essay written in 2011--before Aung San Suu Kyi was released from house arrest)
In too many parts of our world, people have become disenfranchised and fearful. They have little or no access to the simple necessities and pleasures of life: clean water, shelter, food, safety, health care and education. As an inveterate freelance cultural explorer, I have traveled alone to many countries and wandered among strangers—many of whom quickly became friends. In those wanderings, I have gotten lost, confused, enlightened, surprised, delighted and disenchanted. Here at home, I read the papers, listen to the news and talk with my friends about politics, the environment and the arts. I search for meaning that often becomes a meaningless search for something beyond my ken.
Organizations and nations struggle to govern
themselves. They adopt rules and by-laws
and manifestos. They elect leaders and
appoint committees and sub-committees.
Soon they create closed-door sessions and special exceptions and
majority opinions---which regularly become opinions of the powerful few. The co-opted media participate with their daily
and nightly drum, drum, drumming of cleverly crafted disinformation. Eventually, the masses become parrots of
propaganda. It happens again and again. It’s happening now! As I child, I learned that propaganda was
manipulated or one-sided information, intended to misinform. Our civics teacher
explained that the United States government told the truth and “the commies”
told propaganda---to deceive the public, the world.
As my first visit morphed into my seventh or eighth visit
and as I began to read, inquire and reflect on the political, economic and
social realities of Myanmar, I broadened my perspective. I tempered my outrage in favor of envisioning
a possible solution for the suffering men, women and children of that isolated
land.
And so, I muse:
If I were in charge of all diplomatic relations and
negotiations with The Golden Land, I would begin (on Day One) by declaring to
those mired in the past that the correct and official name of the country is
Myanmar---pronounced “Me an’ Mar.” I
would explain to those who hold with the more exotic, easier to pronounce
British invented/distorted name of Burma, that the name Myanmar (literally:
quick and strong) encompasses the scores of ethnic groups in the country. Burma, on the other hand, references only one
dominant group: the Burmans. Ease of
pronunciation for the English (monolinguists) was the reason Yangon became
Rangoon and Kyaing Tong became Keng Tong and Pyin U Lwin became Maymyo (go
figure!). I believe it’s time to call
the country what the people of the country prefer that we call it. We have honored name changes all over Eastern
Europe, India, China…haven’t we? It’s
not a big concession: Myanmar.
On Day Two, I would end the U.S. imposed sanctions and
boycotts. I believe that international
intimidation and/or coercion (the kind that sanctions and boycotts surely
inflame) make substantive communication difficult if not impossible. Those actions rarely achieve their
architects’ desired results: capitulation/surrender. To the repressive Myanmar regime of greedy,
xenophobic generals, those practices do virtually no harm. To the people---the artists and artisans, the
taxi drivers, the restaurant and hotel workers, the small shopkeepers…the harm
is huge; incalculable!
I believe we must talk with our so-called enemies. How else can we move this world towards
clarity, cooperation and--dare we dream--peace?
When the United States government accuses the Myanmar
government of forbidding desperately needed aid from the west to cross their
borders after the cyclone disaster (granted, an unconscionable act), I call to
mind the U.S. turning away Cuba’s unquestionably valuable medical help for the
victims of Hurricane Katrina. Hmmm…isn’t
that an instance of “the pot calling the kettle black!” When our media report the largely erroneous
fact that the wretched generals failed to warn the Myanmar people of the
impending storm, I think: “people who
live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
We are experiencing more and more natural disasters of a
scale unknown to the oldest in our population.
How do we handle them? How do we
help the victims of the never-before-experienced hurricanes, tidal waves,
wildfires, earthquakes and volcanoes?
How can we possibly save and restore lives, comfort the grieving and rebuild
our struggling civilization without compassion, cooperation, understanding and
(and I’m going to say it even if it sounds too gushy) love?
The Buddhists have a term I have adopted: Metta
(loving kindness). May we strive
to practice it in our interactions with individuals and institutions near and
far.
MUSING ON MYANMAR AND DEMOCRACY
Years ago, in a tea shop in Mandalay, an old man---having
ascertained that I was from the United States---asked me, “What is
democracy?” I explained, in part, that
it was a form of government by the people and for the people. “By what people and for what people?” he
inquired. I don’t recall how I
answered. But I remember the look in his
eye. It was wise. And he was smiling ever so slightly. It seems that the answer is “by some people, for some people.”
In too many parts of our world, people have become disenfranchised and fearful. They have little or no access to the simple necessities and pleasures of life: clean water, shelter, food, safety, health care and education. As an inveterate freelance cultural explorer, I have traveled alone to many countries and wandered among strangers—many of whom quickly became friends. In those wanderings, I have gotten lost, confused, enlightened, surprised, delighted and disenchanted. Here at home, I read the papers, listen to the news and talk with my friends about politics, the environment and the arts. I search for meaning that often becomes a meaningless search for something beyond my ken.
Although I am
seriously concerned about global warming, rising gas prices, the war in Iraq,
world poverty and so many other ills and cries of these Times, I have lately
concentrated on the ills and cries of the people of a particularly besieged
country, Myanmar: The Golden Land.
Until Cyclone Nargis battered the daylights out of the delta
region of Myanmar, my interests in the country (formerly known as Burma) were
centered on the arts and cultures of the people: the Chin, the Mon, the Karen, the Kachin, the
Pa-O…And of course, I heralded the bravery and selflessness of Aung San Suu Kyi. In fact the primary goal of my first visit to
Yangon was to meet her---an incredibly naïve intention and a goal I failed to
achieve. In 1999 and 2000, people were
fearful of uttering her name. Being
overheard by the wrong ears could mean arrest or trouble for one’s family. In whispered voices, they called her “The
Lady”. She was the beautiful and
selfless heroine of democracy, imprisoned indefinitely by a cruel and powerful
military regime. Just to be in the
forbidden vicinity of that courageous woman was exciting and mysterious: everything a freelance cultural explorer
dreams of experiencing.
And on Day Three---if I had not achieved it on Day One, I
would begin the “apologizing and forgiveness” process. No doubt forgiveness part would be the bigger
part. After all, the junta is
responsible for some horrendous behavior.
But I believe some apologies are also in order---in order to affect some
sort of rapprochement. Isn’t that what
decent, loving, imperfect people (like us) truly want!
Just this week, by the kind hand of a visiting Myanmar
artist who experienced the cyclone in Yangon, I received a written account of
the storm by an elderly friend of mine.
She wrote, in part: “This is the
87th year of my life and I have never gone through such an
experience. I live in a tropical
climatic zone country and I am used to rainy season storms. This kind of storm of such violence was
unknown in my country.”
