Chapter 6
On military authority (ana) and
electoral influence (awza)

Burma is a difficult political terrain to administer for any government, whether it be a government operating on authoritarian or democratic principles. At no time was this more evident than under the U Nu government at the end of the 1940s, when the Karen had captured Mandalay and threatened to take over the capital Rangoon. However, today's crisis results from the reverse situation. It results from the army's excessive reliance on instruments of authority, without being overly concerned with providing tangible benefits to the Burmese people. Under the Ne Win regime it was not sufficient to keep control of independent agencies by licensing them; they either had to be eliminated or nationalised lock, stock and barrel. All independent agencies had to give way to State institutions and personnel. After twenty-five years, in the regime-controlled areas, with the exception of the Sangha, all persons and institutions of independent influence had been eliminated. Only the State remained. The 1974 notional civilianisation of the State was undone in 1988 when the State was once again remilitarised. The current crisis and destabilisation of Burma is a product of that era, in which the army insisted on monopolising the Burmese State.

Authoritarian models of State

In 1987, Robert Taylor's book, The State of Burma, was published explaining the rationale of the Ne Win regime. In the absence of in-depth analyses of the State by Burmese academics, Robert Taylor's work serves as the most eloquent analysis of that period. His conclusion was that the BSPP had finally made history by successfully asserting the ‘language of the state’.

Personal observation and the research of others suggest that the language of the state is almost universally accepted and that its symbols and ceremonies are widely followed. The all-encompassing ideology of the Party appears to be reflected in public and private discourse and, at least at the verbal level, its message is accepted. People seem also to have developed the capacity (that exists in all societies to varying degrees) to recognize and accept with resignation the gap that exists between the ideals and goals of the state and the actual behaviour of its institutions and personnel. Most people have contact with the Party and the People's Councils in their daily life, and the local agents of the state who live in the community are recognized and used as intermediaries with the authorities at the middle and top levels of the state. For better of worse, the state is accepted as inevitable and dominates other institutions.[1]

The author asserted that the Burmese kings only reorganized the State when a dynasty was founded, and that the British ‘merely elaborated the institutions of the colonial state’ as they went along. However, between 1942–62 Burmese politics saw that ‘incumbents attempted to restructure the state nine different times.’ During this time, ideas ranged between the revival of kingship, socialism, Marxism, Western liberalism, militarism and centralised Statism.[2] In saying this, the author conveyed the impression that Ne Win's BSPP finally put order to this period of fruitless and eclectic experimentation and that it was seemingly the least disputed and the most effective permanent contribution that finally brought stability to Burmese politics. Indeed, he went on to say that there is ‘general recognition of the de facto legitimacy of the present state structure and of Ne Win's supremacy within it’. Taylor described the force of the State for the first time in Burmese history as impersonal when he described how Ne Win took pity on his critics and how he offered them amnesty, demonstrating ‘their impotence when confronted with the new state structures’. He then suggests that it is the office of BSPP party chairman that now has the authority rather than the person Ne Win. In short, in his view the most important political structures had been reformed and were now solidly in place for a new political culture to arise.[3]

Taylor's analysis back in 1987 might not have raised as many eyebrows as it did were it not for an event that proved him wrong. In the event, it was clear that Ne Win's BSPP message was not accepted. The State of Burma was published in 1987, as one Burmese intellectual gleefully pointed out to me, on the eve of what is now often termed the 1988 ‘democracy uprising’ [dImiukersIAer:eta\puM] that brought the regime to its knees. The author was either out of touch with grass-root developments in Burma, or, for any number of possible

(c) ILCAA 1999 - Gustaaf Houtman. Mental Culture in Burmese Crisis Politics. ILCAA Study of Languages and Cultures of Asia & Africa Monograph Series 33, Institute for the Study of Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, 1999, ISBN 4-87297-748-3, p156/392

reasons, preferred to ignore it.

Remarkably, among the list of political systems analysed in Taylor's book, the concept of ‘democracy’ is not to be found either in the index nor the text (despite the fact that, as we have seen, Ne Win frequently used the concept), though there are extensive discussions of a variety of political philosophies and there are lengthy paragraphs on the history of the army. To this must be added the reverse, namely that it is amiss of Taylor not to mention anywhere in this book the crucial role of military intelligence in sustaining Ne Win in power. Without his ruthless use of authoritarian instruments, it is unlikely that the BSPP could have pretended its message had been accepted. A third point of criticism of this work is the way it creates the illusion that the military is a secular pragmatic institution – it is in fact deeply involved in magic and mysticism in a way that suggests that the State Taylor sketches has never been secular or pragmatic.

Since many Burmese ideas are linked to democracy, not least the 1990 elections themselves, one wonders how accurate Taylor's analysis of the State can be. The reservations the author expresses about the idea of democracy in later works – though not always without reason – must be read at least in part as continuing an earlier lack of interest in even mentioning the subject.[4] The impression that Taylor's interpretation is only partial is compounded when we study one of his recent articles on the elections. Here he provides an explanation as to why ‘the elections of Burma have not achieved any significant policy or power shifts, nor significantly redirected the programs and personnel of the state’.[5] He views electioneering in Burma as not being about freely expressing one's personal political preferences, but as an extension of the battlefield in which different local armies contest one another. The electorate is swayed by Bo, ‘local politicians … risen to positions of great authority in their regions’, who have pocket armies and ‘came to dominate the local administrative structures, thwarting central planning edicts and creating powerful patronage networks, which could be used at the time of an election to ensure that they or their candidates were returned to power’. He suggests that these Bo played the most important role in the AFPFL victories in the elections of the 1950s and 1960s. Furthermore, in his view the victory of the Clean AFPFL in the 1960 election represented more than a victory against the military, it represented ‘a victory of the local Bo, against an army that had spent the caretaker period attempting to undermine the independence of their private fiefdoms’.[6]

As for the May 1990 elections, the author suggests that the regime successfully refused to recognize the election outcome because it played the nationalist card, i.e. it questioned the patriotism of the National Coalition Government of the Union of Burma (NCGUB) in collaborating with unelected armed opponents of all Burmese governments since 1948. The regime also successfully raised doubts about Aung San Suu Kyi's eligibility, since she was married to a British citizen and the NLD received support from foreign sources, including governments and foreign organizations. He then suggests that

Although this does little to change the minds of opponents of continued military rule outside Burma, the juxtaposing of the patriotism of the army, which dies for the nation, against the claims of the ballot box explains in part the success of the army in maintaining power in the face of the results of the elections.[7]

In both publications, the author's emphasis on authority and naked strength means that his view is rather obvious, namely that ‘not until those out of power have the organizational means to contest them in a sustained and organized manner, both before and long after the polling day, will election have much meaning.’ In this way, he has given no content to NLD politics except as a spontaneous juvenile ballot box acting in response to an army implementing unpopular but necessary things.

One cannot help but be led to think that he wanted this article on elections to prove his personal conviction against all odds that it was after all true that Ne Win had made lasting changes that were good for Burma as claimed in the earlier book. There will certainly be some good things in what Ne Win accomplished. Nevertheless, it is a fact that Ne Win deceived himself into thinking that the BSPP party mechanism was more permanent than it really was, and that it disintegrated so spectacularly the year after the publication of his book. Robert Taylor's analysis turned out to be just as ‘misguided’ as the previous generation of scholars he criticised. The article on the elections also asserts a stabilising role for the army that belies the political crisis precipitated by the army itself through excessive reliance on the instruments of

authority. The most charitable interpretation of his approach is that he was holding a scholarly debate with an earlier pro-Nu generation of scholars, and that his intention was a novel interpretation covering the areas others had overlooked. Probably his Marxist intellectual sympathies played a role in blinding him to other factors as well.

Buddhism in Saw Maung's elections

Taylor fails to pay attention to ingredients in pre-1962 politics other than that directly linked to the army. Given that he was so spectacularly wrong about the Burmese Way to Socialism, Taylor's analysis of the 1990 elections and, indeed, the 1960 elections, may prove to be guided by a desire to be proved right after all that the army is the only institution that can keep order in society. In this respect, there is one crucial point about electoral politics which he completely failed to mention in his article on the elections. This is the role of Burmese concepts of power and influence, and the role of Buddhist monks and Buddhist concepts more generally. Though in his 1987 book he briefly mentions Buddhism as important, he completely fails to interpret, however, their significance in electoral politics. The monastic order is roughly the same size as the army today, but it is much more influential than the army in electoral politics. This, I submit, was a greater factor in U Nu's 1960 electoral victory than the unpopularity of the army with local leaders and pocket armies, who themselves are also crucially dependent on monastic influence. Some strands in Buddhist and cultural influences actually moderate and affect the very army-centred and boh type views that Taylor described as central in his article, and to understand electoral politics properly, these must be first grasped.

Where authoritarian methods prevail, boundary creating practices such as grand charity often become primary elements in politics, whilst the higher forms of Buddhism through which individuals are able to mentally transcend boundaries tend to take a back seat. However, conversely, where situations of unrest become apparent and authoritarian instruments fail, as has happened in the last decade, higher Buddhist practices and concepts are often invoked by both sides in an attempt to stabilise political crisis. This is so for various reasons, not least of which is that Buddhism is about comprehending and transcending samsara and coping with change. Politics and the actions of politicians – not just U Nu, but also Aung San and Ne Win – are often portrayed as dealing with samsara.[8]

General Saw Maung, in his first public address on 12 September 1988, justified the SLORC's seizure of authority. Due to the unruly conditions, he said, the army was unable to ‘assist the people with cetana’. He appealed primarily to the monks, secondarily to the general population and thirdly to the army. He proclaimed that the State had agreed to conduct multi-party general elections ‘in accordance with the request made by the State Sangha Maha Nayaka Committee Sayadaws on 10 August 1988, and in conformity with the demands made by numerous organizations’. He concluded by asking that the elections be free and fair, and that army members should not use their authority or rank to influence the elections.[9]

This tells us two important features of Burmese politics as expressed by Burmese speakers. First, it tells us something about the nature of authority and influence as conceived in Burma. When the army realised that its authority was at a low ebb, it desperately attempted to restore order by appealing to influential groups throughout the country whom it had been unable to fully co-opt. In this situation, it is significant that Saw Maung appealed in particular to the monks as primary arbiters of influence. The gesture of the elections was presented principally as the outcome of monastic pressure; at this time of army weakness, the army actually came out last in his speech.

Second, Burmese political discourse commonly evokes Buddhist concepts in the search for legitimacy. These concepts often point at superior mental states. Saw Maung justified the army's authority by virtue of a Buddhist concept, namely cetana, the unwavering intentionality behind completion of a good deed of Buddhist charity, from which all good and bad is perceived to flow.

In other words, failure and crisis of authority resulted in a moment during which it looked as if a politics of influence, phrased largely in terms of Buddhist concepts of superior mental attitudes, and through the appeal to monks, might well augur a new parliament in which Buddhism would provide a renewed idiom for democracy, as it had been in the a nti-colonial resistance and in the language of socialism before.

The election factor – government, junta and opposition

Much misunderstanding exists over the terminology surrounding government. Three terms – government, junta and opposition – are commonly used in the foreign press to divide up the Burmese political landscape. In democratic societies these concepts are clearly distinct as they clearly distinguish between governments on the basis of an election outcome. Elected governments are legitimate, but juntas come to power in military coups and hence are illegitimate. The status of opposition, on the other hand, is determined by having lost the elections, which therefore makes it ineligible to govern; the opposition can only aspire to government by campaigning and criticising government in a way that would gain influence with the electorate.

The Burmese situation, however, eludes such perfect symmetry. First, the military, though having permitted the elections to take place, by not relinquishing power is not playing the western electoral game. The regime has responded to criticism by saying that democracy, human rights and elections are largely western concepts with no applicability to Burma. It proclaims that local Burmese culture, law and social institutions call for a different kind of political structure altogether. In other words, in this discourse a selection of local concepts are intentionally emphasized so as to subvert the value of more open and universal electoral criteria.

Though the NLD finds universal criteria in Buddhism that are also local and part of a system of Asian values, Burma undeniably does have a particular political culture which operates, as one observer rightly suggests, in a ‘time-warp’.[10] It has traditionally been a mono-party political system. Although four national elections for self-government have taken place since 1947, all pertained to single-party politics, involving the election of first Aung San and then U Nu. Beginning as an unlikely alliance between an assortment of nationalists from the entire political spectrum, including communists, with the purpose of liberating the country, the splits that took place in the AFPFL after national independence were the result of its inability to resolve conflicting views. Indeed, political disagreement was widely seen as disloyal to the overarching idea of national unity.

Hence, political opposition parties have not historically been seen as credible or as constructively contributing to government. Since 1962, military politics has merely formalised this mono-party political arena by permanently ruling out the possibility of any party other than the government's coming electorally to power. The 1990 elections are an extension of this situation, for the NLD has neither been permitted to assume control over the institution of government nor to canvass support in the country.

Today, not being permitted to operate as an opposition party and not having control over the institution of government, the NLD is therefore, in spite of the election results, neither opposition nor government. Conversely, however, the generals who desperately seek to retain control over the institution of government in the face of the elections, are neither quite government nor opposition.

Democracy and elections are a bundle of long-term instruments used to defuse political crises on a routine basis. Just as Ne Win called for democracy and multi-party elections when weak in the knees, so Saw Maung called for elections in the same way. That does not mean that they will relinquish control, however. In Burma, therefore, the elections have exacerbated and prolonged the sense of crisis. Had they not been held to defuse the crisis, the regime may well have lost its foothold. This electoral impasse, therefore, calls for an analysis of the cultural and religious factors that were traditionally brought forth at times of crisis and that are currently brought forth to cope with unresolved conflict. In numerous situations of crisis in the past, Buddhism has been an important factor accompanying elections. Where a government has faced erosion of political legitimacy, whether it be Anawratha, U Nu, or Ne Win, it returns to Buddhism. When U Nu emerged from the crisis in the 1960 elections, he emerged on a Buddhist ticket. This Buddhist element in the regime's and Aung San Suu Kyi's politics is therefore extremely important to grasp if we are to understand this crisis; we must deal with this gap between electoral and ‘cultural’ politics.

Buddhism and democracy

Certain strands of Buddhism have become indelibly associated with electoral politics, for this was an important ingredient in the 1960 and 1990 elections. However, we know from his earlier work that Taylor considered liberal democracy largely irrelevant to Burma, for in the article ‘An undeveloped state: the study

of Burma's politics’ he writes that the ‘Western students of Burma's politics have not been sympathetic toward the efficacy of pre-colonial patterns of social and political organization’, and that ‘liberal democracy in Burma's plural society was not appropriate for social reintegration for it led to increased ethnic, party and class conflict.’[11] Emphasising that political culture changes only very slowly, Taylor has chosen to emphasize long-term continuity with the monarchy through the institution of the army, and has chosen to question the Nu AFPFL legacy as inheritors of the country by means of a British constitution. The May 1990 electoral episode is dismissed thereby also as a mere incident in the broader historical sweep of more significant causes.

Is this necessarily so? Analysts may agree with Taylor that U Nu's brand of liberal democracy did not work in the 1950s, but the question at hand today is not so much whether his version of democracy worked at that time or whether pre-colonial monarchy has continuity into the present (in many ways I agree with him on this), but whether military dictatorship is working in the 1980s and 1990s, and whether it can work in the next century. Here most observers would also agree that, however forceful and powerful the military might be, it will find it extremely difficult to keep a lid on Burma forever. The question is not now whether democracy should or should not be implemented, but, as Ne Win himself voiced as long ago as 1965 and repeated at the time of his resignation, it is a question of when and how democratization and multi-party elections should be implemented as a political system. When will there be an attempt to formally represent all minorities and localities at the national level? The current one-to-one negotiations between the army and the ethnic groups will ultimately prove to be divisive and impermanent. Without tolerating any form of opposition within the area currently under its control, how can it be trusted to tolerate opposition once the periphery, where most ethnic groups are situated, also comes under its control.

Influence versus authority

Let me propose one approach to understanding the Burmese political arena that I have found useful, namely in terms of the distinction between two different models for political action: the political model that works on ‘authority’ and the political model that works on ‘influence’.[12] ‘Authority’ (ana) is centralised, whereas ‘influence’ (awza) is distributed. Burmese military leaders operate on the basis of authority and since they have no interest in transforming their subjects into active citizens, power and agency is not redistributed across a wide range of institutions outside the army. After 1962 there were hardly any NGOs and there was no foreign business. NGOs are still having a hard time operating in this country.[13] In this system, influence is only tolerated when it flows through channels of authority. Thus, the situation is created where a breakdown in authority becomes a traumatic event that requires the regeneration of influence for which both monks and elections were deemed crucial even by the military. Since authoritarian systems do not rely on anyone outside the structure of authority itself, this means that it is unable and unwilling to dispense rights and privileges outside its own hierarchy – only obligations can be distributed. Democracy is thus reduced to a form of catharsis, a brief moment of relief through a promise that, like Ne Win's promise, is never realised.

In an influence model, however, since it is based on the idea of dispersal, rather than centralisation of power, individual citizens must continuously be appealed to for support. This then must function on the basis of more than just duties or obligations on the part of its citizens. A system of distributed power simply cannot work without also distributing certain rights and benefits. Once an environment of distributed power exists, authoritarian behaviour is turned into the least efficient and most counter-productive way to conduct politics. Forced labour would not work in this system.

In my view, such contrast helps explain differences between the regime and the democracy movement. Indeed, it permits us to understand many differences in the content of political speeches and the reason why the authoritarian model is so concerned with spatialising, territorialising and placing, while exponents of the democracy are concerned with transcending place and location. To reduce this difference, as the army

would have it, to a simple opposition between indigenous local patriotism, and foreign values that lead to selling the country out to foreigners, is to oversimplify the local debates that are currently ongoing.

Authority and cetana

Authorities frequently appeal to the quality of cetana [estna].[14] It is an important concept to the regime, and is a Burmese word that crops up not only in the Burmese, but also the English speeches on a regular basis in its Burmese form. We have already observed it as a quality attributed to Aung San as unifier of the country, for U Nu had said it was because of ‘General Aung San's goodwill (cetana) based on the ingenuity of his steady samadhi that success was attained in overcoming the difficulties of unifying the country’.[15] Usually translated as ‘goodwill’, in Burmese it means ‘a union or accordance of mind with an object or purpose, inclination’. It presumes that for a government to work, all people must share the same deep intentions, and the same object and purpose.

This concept permits overlap between the army's and Buddhist causes, for it means in particular ‘to have a fixed purpose to carry out a benevolent scheme’. It means ‘to make a religious offering’ [estna òp@ån\:] with the three kinds of cetana, namely with steady and firm conviction in the past, present and future.

Maung Maung ascribes Ne Win's journey to power to his cetana qualified by the ultimate fear (samvega) of the consequences of one's action for the perpetuation of samsara; this kind of cetana should guide the Burmese people. He begins and ends his biography on this note.[16] For the same reason, the ‘voluntary’ labour issue is expressed in the post-1988 era as the motivation of volunteers, ‘masters of cetana’ [estnaRHc\], contributing to the State's meritorious projects.

Cetana is usually attributed to those in authority, and in particular the government and army, but also parents and teachers.[17] They carry the onerous duties of the authority and State in a manner that ordinary citizens cannot. Therefore, they are represented as having the greatest cetana for peoples for whom they have responsibility – they patronise. Of course, they do so without any self-interest or any desire for power. Such is the disposition of members of the SLORC-SPDC with no reward.[18] Generals excuse themselves if their good motivation is not apparent, but people must learn to see cetana in them.[19] Generals urge town officials to ‘work for the development of the township with cetana’.[20] They assert that graduates of the University for Development of National Races ‘are duty-bound to organize the parents of the children who cannot attend school’ and must ‘work as cetana teachers as well as educational organizers.’[21] Even modern hotels are ‘definitely laced with cetana’, for the concept is supposedly based on the same spirit which built shelters for travellers in old Burma free of charge in the name of Buddhist charity.[22]

Pro-democracy activists and political agitators, however, are portrayed as abusing the cetana of the authorities. We have already seen that Saw Maung described the cetana of the army as ineffective while the country was in disorder. For example, it is ‘deplorable that Daw Suu Kyi … is misusing and making capital of the cetana (goodwill) and magnanimity of the SLORC’.[23] Reformed pupils supposedly bemoan how taking part in the demonstrations meant that ‘we had discarded the cetana of our parents and teachers and had been instigated by our surrounding to take part in the demonstrations’.[24] They are reported to return to their motherland in droves because they acknowledge the cetana and the metta of the regime,[25] even not returning voluntarily, after being forced to return by the Thai authorities.

The regime appeals to its adversaries to demonstrate cetana. Internationally, countries should do more than make accusations, ‘If they are sincere, have genuine cetana (goodwill) towards Myanmar’ than ‘Myanmar is also ready to reciprocate’.[26] The ethnic minorities demonstrate their cetana by laying down their arms. When Khun Sa lay down arms, it was interpreted as evidence that the ‘regions have realised the SLORC's cetana and turned in their large arsenal of arms and ammo’.[27] Tranquillity of life in Burma is entirely due to the government's cetana, ‘since most of the armed groups returned to the legal fold after realizing genuine cetena there is peace and tranquillity in various parts of the country.’[28] Conversely, the Chinese, a superior power to whom the regime is deeply indebted for arms and assistance, have superior cetana towards the Burmese. Indeed, the President of China Mr Jiang Zemin was grateful that the Burmese government conveyed the Chinese Tooth Relic around the country and ‘his reply reflected metta (loving kindness) and cetana (goodwill) of [to] Myanmar.’ After all, the Chinese are full relatives of the Burmese and are united with them.[29] The fact that Tibetan Budhism has been suppressed in Tibet, and the Chinese long supported the Burma Communist Party, the army's arch-enemy, does not seem to have deterred the authorities when arms and aid were required.

Cetana versus metta

The cetana of the generals thus demands a trusting response on the part of the Burmese that all will be well. There is no such thing as questioning the good intentions and there is no such thing as questioning whether by being ‘well-intentioned’, the regime might still do bad things for the country, e.g., because of ignorance and lack of education. Furthermore, the goodness is of a particular type. Differences between groups must be set aside, and shared among all must be the intentionality to participate in a benevolent project conceived of in the singular, and contained within the boundaries of State. In this way, all Burmese people are brought into a scheme of a single project of transactions.

Cetana and charity as conquest

I have already noted how before 1988 national unity was conceived of as an elevated state of mind through byahma-so tayà. Cetana, however, is much less transcendental, and much more transactional and redistributive, as it takes as its main reference the act of charity, not mental culture. At the heart of cetana is the grand donor of Buddhist projects. Kings who conquered domains did so by immediately building pagodas or planting bodhi trees within them, thus demonstrating that their fight took place in the name of Buddhism and that they were subjecting these territories to their cetana.[30] This demonstrated domination of the environment along the model of Asoka who, according to legend, built 84,000 pagodas in the communities he conquered. Also, at the beginning of their reign, the kings had the scriptures copied, thus proclaiming to all their cetana.[31] The act of charity was historically the main unifying factor of the kingdom, since it is the first of the Ten Parami and also the first of the Ten Royal Duties. The pagoda Ne Win built in the 1980s bears witness to the importance of pagoda building to political authority even for those who are supposedly the most secular of political leaders.

Hence, the concept of cetana has overtones that link the transactions surrounding Buddhist charity to building a domain.[32] The historian Harvey remarked that Bayinnaung's pagodas built at Ayuthia, ‘are still to be seen, and in later ages the Burmese would point to them as proof of their claim to rule those countries still.’[33] Today, Buddhists also proclaim land in Burma as theirs in competition with other Buddhist as well as non-Buddhist communities simply because, they say, there are old pagodas there built by their kings and so it was a Burmese Buddhist domain.

Mindon, troubled by his much reduced kingdom, sought also the instrument of charity (apart from mental culture) to increase his authority over the domain.

Land bounded by the limits ... were (rededicated) to the Pyinya Shwezigon Pagoda.... For all these good deeds may the king conquer all his enemies, solve all his difficulties, grow more powerful, live long and get all he wanted. Finally the king would

like to become the Buddha himself and help everybody else to obtain ... nirvana. May the king's ancestors, his ministers and all guardian gods of the Religion share the merits equally with him....[34]

This royal infiltration of Buddhist symbolism goes beyond dedicating land and edifices. The umbrellas of the pagodas, ultimate symbols of royal power, are in fact ‘a king's crown and no other pyramidal Buddhist monument outside [Burma] has this crown above the finial’. For this reason, from about the beginning of the 15th century ‘a [Mon] king invaded the upper land and put a big crown made like his own on each of the pagoda in the land he conquered and it was retaliated by the [Burmese] king by putting the likeness of his crown on each pagoda when he got back his land and in this way the practice of substituting [Burmese] crown with [Mon] [myan-ma htì chá ta-laìng htì tin] or vice versa was started’. Incorporation of royal elements into Buddhist representations went, in fact, so far as to include to the Buddha images themselves, since old dresses of King Alaungmintaya (1752-1760) were burnt ‘and the ash was used to make Mam Bhura: [lacquered images of the Buddha]’.[35]

Cetana and merit

The cetana that goes with pagoda building is ultimately based on the idea that merit is distributed by the grand donor to all who live within the kingdom. This permeation of merit throughout thereby reconfigures but also comes to constitute the kingdom. Bodhisattva Prince Vessantara – two lives before he became Gautama Buddha – gave away his own wealth and some of his father's in his determination to attain the perfection of charity (dana). This caused anger among some, and he was at first banished, especially after he gave away the white elephant to a neighbouring kingdom that was believed to prevent draught. However, the risk was worth the outcome – eventually the king went in search for him, and he rehabilitated Vessantara. The story of Vessantara demonstrates how charity, giving away one's possessions, leads to banishment from the kingdom; and yet eventually this act also gives rise to affirmation of kingship and later Buddhahood. This theme of the gift as, on the one hand establishing the kingdom (by giving wealth away to build allegiance between royal and Buddhist spiritual institutions), while on the other, unhinging the kingdom in the process (by giving all the wealth away to what would be an ‘unproductive’ purpose) has been taken up by several scholars of Burmese history. Tambiah expresses the relationship between enlightenment and charity rather well: ‘if the conquest over the body is the contemplator's profit, the care of the Buddha's bones and relics and their enshrining in a dagaba, and the heavenly rewards of pilgrimage, are assigned to the laymen.’[36]

Charisma and purity do not work for the kingdom until they are harnessed by it: such takes place through the act of royal charity, which brings the renouncer within the orbit of the kingdom and royal influence, and makes enlightenment appear possible by royal piety. The Buddha began to teach after his enlightenment and was soon coveted by the ruling families, as were his pupils and his relics, without which a Buddhist kingdom cannot function. In the Vessantara story, the result was not only that all family members were happily reunited, but Vessantara became a very popular king of a happy kingdom.[37] In Burmese, concepts to do with charity dominate the domains of social, political and economic transactions and relationships – this is the case with cetana, but also expressions such as ‘sharing drops of water’ [ersk\påty\],[38] ‘sharing a connection’ [ASk\rHity\], and the term for going on strike is monks ‘turning up their alms-bowls [so that they cannot receive alms]’ [qpit\emHak\ty\].

In an electoral environment authority cannot afford to be seen to crack down on Buddhism without also

initiating and building these relationships that arise through charity. The generals, who have returned en masse to pagoda building and to supporting Buddhism in the 1990s, thus attempt to extract legitimacy and conquer the country according to these old models. In presenting the national cause according to these old models of merit-making with cetana, they are building a form of national unity that demands a surrender of the people's intentions towards a singular meritorious project, their project. The new ruling on cultural heritage means civil servants have part of their meagre pay docked in order to pay for the State's acts of merit, and when the generals arrive in Pagan they requisition the best car in town for as long as they are there, with no compensation to its owner even for consumables such as petrol. One man I met in Pagan had to sell his car because he could no longer afford to own it. The whole argument over ‘voluntary’ labour is thus tied to the generals' assumption that their acts of charity are the ultimate acts of merit-making, so that all of their projects are deemed ‘sacred’ projects supported by Buddhism. To participate in this is to become also a ‘master of cetana’ – such privilege deserves no pay.

In the language of the democracy movement, however, there is no presumption of a singular project or of the bounded local environment that cetana implies. On the contrary, instead it tends to appeal to metta, the unbounded love for all creatures without preference. Its most active vocabulary incorporates byama-so tayà and metta, which cross the very ‘boundaries’, ‘frameworks’ and ‘structures’ put in place by the army under their protective cetana. Through the practice of vipassana, it furthermore negotiates the boundaries of prison and mankind. Agency is conveyed onto the individual person concerned who uses vipassana to cope with prison and severe repression. It longs for representation of diversity and for self-empowerment that elude the boundaries of State. Hence, to agents of the State, this produces the discourse of foreigness; this produces the Myanmafication discourse that relabels genuine Burmese people as foreigners.

The measure for authority is fear, the measure for influence is respect and loving-kindness. Electoral politics are more crucially dependent on influence than on authority. It is on this basis that the army, which has not practiced the techniques of influence since 1962, lost the 1990 elections. Furthermore, the SLORC permitted elections because it was both, in a state of crisis and it had become complacent about its role in Burmese society. Confusing authority with influence, and fear with respect, it attributed outward signs of submission to its authority to influence. It thought this would translate into votes.

By 1988, it was evident from the protests that Burma had outgrown the authoritarian mode of government. The 1990 election demonstrated that serious changes had to be made. In the political system of influence it is not central authority that counts, but the ability through influence and persuasion to reach across and transcend the boundaries self-interest groups erect around themselves. In such a system the State must derive its power and authority by being perceived by all groups as benevolent. This the regime could not, and will never achieve with its cetana.

The regime's respective politics reflect this, for the military is continuously setting boundaries and essentialising identity as substantive. And it subjects everyone to rules of appropriate behaviour appropriate to ‘good Myanmar citizens’. The NLD, on the other hand, is continuously transcending these boundaries, de-essentialising identity, and is not playing by the regime's rules. The regime has an interest in creating a closed culture, the NLD in what I call mental culture. Authority is public and attributable, whereas influence is only inferred and attributable indirectly by virtue of certain effects.

The military – bad influence from outside

Focus on Aung San Suu Kyi has drawn attention to the issue of the influence of women, which has absorbed much of the regime's energy (see above). Since the advent of Aung San Suu Kyi, women have increasingly been portrayed as exercising major influence [ZO7] in Burma, in particular on men with formal authority over the house [ZO8]. However, women also need protection from being penetrated by alien values. All that comes from outside is ‘bad’ influence, and ‘alien cultural influences’[39] are highly undesirable. Aung San Suu Kyi is portrayed as responding to these alien values like a puppet on a string [ZO6]. She is so much subject to foreign influence that she is without personal will [ZO5]. On the other hand, she is nevertheless wilful enough to selfishly calculate on becoming the country's leader, though she does so only after coming under foreign influence [ZO3]. It is because of this foreign influence that she had to be restrained and imprisoned, for otherwise she would cause disunity in the army and destroy the country [ZO15]. She is spiteful enough to use her influence abroad to destroy the livelihood of the Burmese people,

and to stall economic and political developments. This foreign influence means she desires power and transgresses the desire of all Burmese people for true democracy from a ‘local’ point of view [ZO2]. External influences make the NLD unwieldy and unresponsive to local concerns [ZO4] and therefore ‘undemocratic’.

In short, the regime asserts that only its own authority and benevolence, based on local authority, laws and customs, can be the sole source of ‘good’ influence in Myanmar. Any action described as bad, is entirely due to the ‘influence’ of foreigners or communists [ZO9]. For example, to indicate negative influence it is sufficient to say that it is ‘outside influence’, for example the press said that ‘riot-mongering students got possessed by outside political influences and caused the unrest to grow’.[40] A particular concern is, of course, the American and European boycott, which is referred to as ‘the threat or use of economic sanctions’ and ‘the extraterritorial application of domestic law to influence policies in developing countries’.[41] However, this ‘exteriorisation’ of unwanted influence occurs even with those who were themselves by all accounts part of ‘the interior’ in their contribution to the struggle against colonialism. For example, a group of twenty-three veterans of the national struggle wrote a letter to the SLORC asking for national reconciliation, upon which they were invited to a meeting on 26 November only to be told that they were being influenced by Western countries in their demands. The group replied that they had themselves fought for national independence and that they had written entirely of their own accord, but this was to no avail.[42]

Nevertheless, certain kinds of influence penetrate from the outside. As one observer quite rightly put it, ‘fortune tellers seem to have a significant influence on national policy’. On the whole, however, people on the outside of this limited sphere are interpreted as lacking metta and karuna, for they are part of the colonialist and fascist legacy outside of Burma, who must be kept on the outside. This view of the outside world was enshrined in the BSPP manifesto [D8], and though socialism has gone, this attitude still remains today.

In sum, from the authoritarian point of view the only ‘good’ influence is that which flows from within the army's own immediate centralised sphere of authority. It believes it is ‘the one and only institution that involves the different nationals, purely nationalistic, with no party influence, uninterruptedly working for the weal of the nation.’[43]

The NLD – bad influence from inside

To Aung San Suu Kyi, on the other hand, bad influence comes not from the outside, but rather from the inside. It comes, of course, from the regime which causes fear in people. However, ultimately, it comes from people's minds, namely through the corruption brought by their own mental defilements. Only a revolution of the spirit can uproot this [S8] (see below), and only when this is uprooted can good influence and true freedom be guaranteed. Since monks are engaged in this quest [E1], their influence on government is for that reason regarded as positive and softening [E13]. It is in the field of Buddhism that momentary respite can be found from relentless persecution by the regime.[44]

Conversely, in NLD discourse, on the whole good influence comes from ‘outside’ the circle of authority. Influence should go beyond those with authority and embrace all those who have been disempowered and who are poor [ZO1]. In short, to the NLD the whole system of democracy implies a redistributed influence in which people outside the corridor of immediate power also have a role in influencing government. This would even include adversaries, such as opposition parties losing the elections, the regime's own NUP [ZO12], and it would also include foreign governments [ZO13].

Since the regime is unwilling to relate to influence outside its own core of commanders, it is unable to participate in the creation of a party system because it would not be popular enough to receive the votes needed to have representation in government, or even have any weight as a serious opposition party. Indeed, it is unable to rely on the votes of its own subordinates, most of whom voted for the NLD. Yet as a government it can have GONGOs to its name, produced through intimidation and restriction of opportunities by means of authority (see chapter 4). Of course, the army is unable to enter into party

political arrangements, and forbade its members from doing so early on because empathy with the people would break the army apart. Membership to the USDA is not voluntary, in spite of the many incentives the regime tries to give to those who join. Albright made a valid point when she commented that ‘authoritarian leaders often delude themselves that they are loved, but the smiles they see are usually prompted not by affection, but fear.’[45]

The regime holds that not only is good influence coterminous with its own authority, but in their hard-headed equation between the two, those who are not in authority – such as foreigners, opposition parties and the poor – can have no good influence, deserve no share in power or authority, and merely serve as fallow ground for competing agencies for whom they are ‘pawns’, ‘axe-handles’ or ‘puppets’. Any move by any member of the regime, or even the general public, to listen to Aung San Suu Kyi, would have major implications for its own legitimacy, for it would indicate formal recognition that there is a sphere of good influence outside of the regime's own sphere of authority. In other words, this attitude makes enemies out of the common people.

Paradoxically, the rhetoric of self-reliance runs counter to the army's strong dependence on China, Japan and Singapore for material support, but also on individuals such as Miriam Segall, whose embarrassing letters demonstrate the great influence one unethical and opportunistic foreign business woman had on the generals, until she lost her reputation in a law suit.[46]

To destroy this overlap between the two mandalas – namely of authority and influence – would immediately precipitate an erosion and redistribution of the powerbase. Therefore, Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD cannot be met with and negotiated with, for that would be to unravel the platform on which the army itself stands.

It has proved impossible to influence this regime, whether by the Burmese themselves from the inside, or by NGOs or foreign governments from the outside. One journalist summed up the authoritarian nature of this regime in relation to ASEAN when he said that

There's a foolhardy argument by some ASEAN statesmen nowadays: they say we must admit Myanmar so that ASEAN can exert influence over it. This is flawed. First, ASEAN countries do not tolerate interference by foreigners in each country's affairs. Second, you do not put a wolf in the middle of chickens. Chickens will never influence a wolf. The wolf will eat them. One by one.[47]

There has been some debate over whether authoritarianism is good for development or not. Those who believe in ‘developmental authoritarianism’ support investment in Burma, believing that the benefits of economic development are most quickly apparent with an authoritarian approach. Those against speak of the ‘authoritarian disadvantage’ in which all policy tools used by the regime to stimulate the economy are counterproductive.

The regime has been affected in more ways than it cares to admit, and has responded to what it perceives as its opponents. However, it has never openly accepted influence from outside sources. The ASEAN and Japanese ‘constructive engagement’ policy has had as little impact on the way the regime conducts its politics as the economic and political boycott by the United States and Europe. This typical lack of responsiveness Aung San Suu Kyi characterised as the ‘certain rigidity in their outlook’ typical of authoritarian regimes.[48] It is this ‘inevitable sameness about the challenges of authoritarian rule anywhere at any time’ that produced figures such as Gandhi and Aung San.[49] There is no doubt that these authoritarian regimes also produced the phenomenon of Aung San Suu Kyi. The paradox then, is that as long as they exist, they will continue to self-produce their own enemies. In short, for the regime to stop producing its own enemies, it will have to admit awza into government and relegate cetana and ana to a backseat.

Ana (authority)

Ana [`aLa], Pali ana [`aLa], means ‘order’, ‘command’, ‘power’ and ‘authority’. It is the most commonly-used concept to characterise the military regimes since 1962.

Let me first cover everyday use of the term. Ana is associated with the naked power of the State irrespective of ethics, as involved in ‘instruments of government (owners of ana)’ [Aa%apiuc\APæµ>Asv\:] who

‘possess ana’ [Aa%apiuc\ty\xRHity\] either because it ‘seizes ana’ [Aa%aqim\:ty\], as ‘dictators (lord of ana)’ [Aa%aRHc\] do, who set up ‘dictatorships (views by masters of ana)’ Aa%aRHc\wåd, or because ana is ‘delegated’ [Aa%alWµty\xep:ty\] by someone higher, by supernatural sanction or even by elections. Such deferred authority includes the authorised law courts (‘owning ana’) [Aa%apiuc\tra:ruM:] and executioners (‘sons of ana') [Aa%aqa:].

Ana ‘comes into force’ or is ‘established’ [Aa%atv\ty\], and is ‘stringently enforced’ [Aa%aTk\ty\]. To contravene it is to be ‘disobedient’ [Aa%aPISn\ty\xP¥k\ty\]. It is viewed as a kind of machinery limited to a sphere (‘wheel of ana’ [Aa%ask\])[50] and a limited period of time (‘ana period’ [Aa%aeKt\]).

Ana is closely associated with office and rank [raTU:], and ana in Burmese history has been significantly sustained by Brahmanic and mundane rituals (magic), including loki-pañña.

There is, however, an ethical form of ana that is built upon good Buddhist practice and rightful rule. This is linked to the concept of the ‘wheel of authority’ [Aa%ask\] (See App. I.8) that arises only as the result of correct mental states and intentionality of the king. Furthermore, Aung San referred to democracy as the ‘the people's desire, the ana of the people’ [òpv\qU>SNãx òpv\qU>Aa%a] indicating that the ultimate form of authority is one based on the peoples' appreciation of what is being done for them, namely ‘influence’.[51]

Awza (influence)

Sometimes instructors refer to The Three Awza [ûqzaAòpa:xm¥oi: 3på:x Tc\RHa: k¥m\:], including: (1) ‘food awza, the power that generates the material form of creatures [Asaûqza-qt†wåfrup\kiuòPs\esòKc\: qt†i]’; (2) ‘earth awza, the power that makes trees appear [eòmûqza-qs\pc\tiu>kiu òPs\esòKc\:qt†i ]’; and (3) ‘human awza, the power that makes for accomplishment [lUûqza-Am§kisßtiu>kiuôpI:esòKc\:qt†i]’.[52]

The primary meaning is ‘nutrition’ in the sense of the Pali oja, an Indo-European word related to ‘increase’ (Latin aug in the sense of augment). It is often used to convey the idea of ‘strength-giving’ or ‘nutritive essence’, as in ‘rich soil’ [ûqzaTk\qn\ty\], but it also ‘has flavour’ [ûqzael:nk\ty\] and is associated with ‘nourishment’ [ûqzwN†] as opposed to inorganic substance which is ‘without awza’ [ûqzamµ.psßv\:].

Secondarily it means ‘influence’ that ‘permeates’ [ûqzasU:ty\] and one ‘can make someone feel’ [ûqzakiuk\ty\x evac\:ty\] so that it ‘permeates a domain’ [ûqzaKMny\]. In this sense it has a fluidity not unlike the English ‘influence’.

When used in conjunction with authority, as in awza-ana [ûqzaAa%a], it means an authority which is both regarded positively and influential. Such would be opposed to, for example, ‘ana of arms’ [lk\nk\Aa%a].

The idea that awza, as distinct from ana, is nutritious, is related to wholesome elevated personal qualities. In the law text Manugye, nat awza is used to characterise the only non-material food needed by spiritual beings prior to the decline of human morality at the beginning of the world. Later, men with awza had to be elected to exercise ana (authority), but they still had to have awza, based on their spiritual qualities. In this sense, awza precedes ana, which is the need to confer authority to the king, and existence by means of awza was the ideal State.

Awza, as distinct from ana, ‘permeates’. On the other hand, it is inalienable, so that awza cannot simply be delegated or inherited, whereas ana can. Yet its effect is felt as much more positive and goes much deeper than ana. It is important to point out that while ana can be and usually is exercised negatively, awza is never a negative quality or even a neutral term – it is always a positive quality associated with the positive characteristics of a person.[53] Awza is strongly associated with self-purification and elimination of mental defilements through high morality (sila qIl), mental culture (bhavana Bawna), and in particular with loving-kindness and compassion as inherent in byama-so tayà and brahma-vihara. It is associated with voluntary co-

operation, as opposed to forced co-operation elicited by ana.[54]

Buddhism – awza comes prior to ana

Ana and awza, just like ‘authority’ and ‘influence’, blend into one another. One who is greatly influential is often given authority, and one who is in a position of authority is also able to influence. Nevertheless, there is a world of difference between these concepts. To be influential may make one authoritative, but there is a world of difference between being influential and authoritarian. In Burmese history all Burmese kings invariably had ana, but exceptionally few were described as having awza. The exception were those, such as Kanaung Crown prince under Mindon, who were broadly educated, internationally minded, of good intention, and who were interpreted as having a good all-round awza.[55] In short, they were popular or, in modern terms, electorally eligible. The idea of ana is that it is limited by boundaries and frameworks – a domain and some kind of lifespan such as a period of government; awza, however, is so fluid that it transcends and trickles through all boundaries of time and place.

In Buddhism, the techniques of awza are sketched as primary in the ability to maintain order on a voluntary basis, and ana is presented as an extension of this. For example, the idea is emphasized that the future loss of Buddhist teachings should not be an excuse to adopt an ana approach. The Buddha's field of authority (anakhetta)[56] is supposed to be the greatest of any, since through authority of the Wheel of the Dhamma (dhamma-cakka Dmîsk\Aa%aeta\) it pervades the one hundred thousand crores of cosmic systems, surviving generations of kings and outshining their limited fields of authority over time. This power is rooted in supreme understanding of the Doctrine of Dependent Origination (paticcasamuppada) which the Buddha discovered through his meditation, and which though simple in only containing twelve causes, resulted in his thorough understanding of the 3,700,000 crores of Mahavajira Vipassana Nana. This field of authority can be delegated, for subsequently creatures had the ability to take up his words on his authority in the form of the parittas, so that the suttas,[57] when recited under the right conditions, become efficacious.[58] In Aung San's view, this superior authority of the Buddha, based on full understanding of all causes, provides the idiom in which terms the rightful demise of British colonialism can be understood (see below).

The Mingun Sayadaw holds that the Buddha, although he had ultimate authority in the above sense and was born a king-to-be, did not establish an authoritarian system. Indeed, he avoided an authoritarian system on purpose. Mingun's interpretation of Gautama Buddha's answer to Sariputta's question concerning the relatively short dispensation of the first three Buddhas (Vipassi, Sikhi and Vessabhu) is that:

In the time of those three Buddhas, since their disciple monks were wholly free from wrong doings, no Authoritative Disciplinary Rules (ana-patimokkha) associated with the seven portions of offences had to be pronounced .

Only the recitation of the Exhortative patimokkha (ovada-patimokkha) was known to them. Even that patimokkha they did not recite fortnightly.[59]

The Mingun proceeds to explain that after several generations, when councils were not held there was a ‘rapid disappearance of their dispensations’. The other three Buddhas (Kakusandha, Konagamana, Kassapa) did develop the Authoritative Disciplinary Rules, which made them last somewhat longer.

Nevertheless, Mingun also points out that Gautama Buddha, when asked about this, refused to make up authoritative rules even where it would have extended the dispensation for longer into the future. He said that there are opportune and inopportune times to develop these rules. It all depends on whether offences were actually happening, at which point some authoritative rules should be developed. If no offences occurred due to the perfection of the monks, then no authoritative rules should be laid down. He compares it to a doctor treating someone who will have an ulcer, but does not yet have one; without showing evidence, the patient will not want to pay for preventative treatment. This suggests that ana cannot be assumed without first clearly and credibly demonstrating that awza cannot do its work. This procedure was not

followed by the regime in respect of the 1990 election. Furthermore, according to this model, the regime are not even in a position to proclaim ana since they have not removed their own mental defilements first, as the Buddha himself had done.

Military ana and NLD electoral awza

Aung San stands today for both ana and awza. Aung San was a courageous student who founded the Communist Party, hackled the British authorities, turned on Japan and finally negotiated national independence as a civilian, without relying on his army rank, for he was also founder of the Burmese army. Though Aung San is invariably depicted in uniform, the legacy of Aung San is in fact not so much of ana, someone who founded the army, but a person with awza, who enjoyed the goodwill of the people, and had influence among them. He resisted the accumulation of wealth for himself and lived with an ideal that inspired the Burmese people. Burma's national independence was attained by Aung San and U Nu as civilians, not soldiers.

The army had not achieved national independence. It was the combination of a particular moment and the personal qualities of two leading and popular personalities of Burma's struggle for national independence that were productive of sufficient awza to rally the population along with them. To stay in power the army had to draw on Aung San's awza. When Aung San's daughter stood up in his name, the army demonstrated that it could only manage ana. However, it was ineffective at managing awza outside its own immediate realm without resorting to instruments of authority. It seemed change was imminent when it permitted elections, but as the years passed it then proceeded to arrest and imprison more and more elected members of parliament.

As long as the army reverts to such instruments of ana, it will eventually prove unable to contain such crises of legitimacy. Stable political systems must permit awza to be the mainstay, and ana to be only an adjunct to this. The above distinction between ana and awza is particularly useful for interpreting the current crisis. It is possible in this way to distinguish between three kinds of politics – awza electoral politics of constructive influence, ana politics of force and illegitimate government, and awza-ana politics of good and benevolent government with the support of the people.

Taylor acknowledged that the modern State ‘has a historical lineage that goes back 600 to 1,000 years’.[60] However, elsewhere he also suggests that in Burma there is an ‘absence of indigenous theories of the state’. It is, of course, possible to have a State without having indigenous theories about it, but I think that he overlooks the fact that the Burmese State is conceptualized as having originated with the introduction of Buddhism, and that this gives Buddhist concepts enormous force in Burmese politics (App. I.2). Both awza and ana are based in the Buddhist teachings. Pagoda politics has historically been important in the national independence struggle and continues to be so today, even with the military now rebuilding pagodas in an attempt to augment their awza in an ana manner.

The transition from the U Nu electoral to the Ne Win dictatorial phase may be read in terms of the vernacular as a transition from the politics of influence (awza), in which people warm to the leader because of their personal and other qualities and their ability to converse, influence and persuade the public, to the politics of authority (ana), in which displays of impersonal and omnipresent strength are required to make people obey out of fear of retribution. In this sense Taylor completely misses the point about Ne Win, for he says that, unlike U Nu ‘there has been no obvious and conscious plan to create a cult of personality around Ne Win … he affects no public poses and launches no crusades; his is the political style of gradual and cautious organization’.[61] I am not sure to what extent the fact that Robert Taylor was a guest of Ne Win while I was doing fieldwork in 1982–83 has to do with his description. What I do know is that Ne Win was at that time feared by people, and never stood a chance of being ‘popular’. Taylor proceeds by describing how Ne Win's charisma ‘developed’ by citing how he first gathered his political opponents for discussions and then gave no ground to them. This is not an admirable quality.

Aung San Suu Kyi has awza. This contributes to her authoritative role in Burmese politics. However, this should not be confused with authoritarian behaviour. She invokes higher ideas, while the regime's ana is supported by weapons, military intelligence and loki pañña. Post-1962 military regimes have been ana-style dictatorships with good reason to greatly dislike personalities with awza, who are to them like a ‘loose

canon’. Ne Win never permitted any officer who was liked by the people to climb the ranks, for such a person might eventually usurp his authority. The result was that the worst personalities, those most loyal to Ne Win himself, rose to the top with no benefit to the people. As we have seen in chapter 1, only the promise of democracy and the periodic gesture of elections could keep ana in place.

Aung San Suu Kyi's politics is entirely focused on awza, for she has no ana as such (except for the elections which many argue did confer ana on her). This uncontrollable force of awza is the regime's bugbear. This is why the regime must interpret her influence not in terms of ‘local’ Burmese concept, namely awza, but as a foreign concept, namely ‘influence’. They attribute to her foreign influence [ZO2], and in doing so they hope to avoid the implication that she has positive influence in this Burmese sense, namely that her personal charisma functions most definitely in terms of traditional ideas of awza.

The elections are about the electorate conferring ana upon those who have awza. Realising this, the current cultural and religious revival that the regime is orchestrating is an attempt to manufacture awza under a future electoral polity in which they hope to secure a dominant position. This is a significant change from the previous Ne Win polity. However, they cannot compete with Aung San Suu Kyi, whose awza is not artificially manufactured and whose politics actually touches the minds of the people and deeply influence their opinions; the military does not have this capability. It can only pretend to express ‘the peoples' desires’ [ZM3b].

The regime recognizes this as a problem and this is evident in the way Hpe Kan Kaùng, the very same journalist who diminished Aung San Suu Kyi's stature, published a book called ‘We are not dictators [‘masters of ana’] who have seized ana [Aa%aqim\:eqaAa%arHc\Asiu:rmhut\på].[62] In this book he analyses dictatorial systems around the world and justifies the actions of the military, mainly those of the SLORC, but also the 1962 coup. Yet even in this book we find the small tokens of disapproval by the common people, for the slogans prefacing my copy of this book were purposely left uncut, as in many other books I have bought since 1989. These small tokens of disobedience and rebellion by printers and binders are typical of a system relying entirely on ana style politics. Ana simply cannot penetrate the minds of the people, and merely leads to outward gestures of submission without positively inclining the minds of the people. Were it possible, more of the regime's efforts would be sabotaged. Once again, the regime is creating its own enemies.

The regime knows that in an electoral environment it needs to supplement its ana with awza. It has tried its utmost to rule out all forms of influence outside its own centre. There is some evidence that this even extends to changing the Burmese vocabulary itself. For example, the latest official government dictionary, published in 1993, interprets awza in an ana sort of way. It does not so much translate it as ‘influence’, but rather as a synonym for ana. Any subtle distinctions between ana and awza disappear when no distinction is made between ‘making one's awza felt’ [ûqzakiuk\ty\x evac\:ty\], and ‘having one's awza permeate’ [ûqzasU:ty\]. These are all in fact translated in the dictionary as ‘asserting one's authority’. In sum, awza is invariably equated with ‘authority’ and with the exercise of naked ‘power’. This contrasts with earlier dictionaries such as Judson's and Hok Sein's, who preserve the designation ‘influence’ for this term. Such collapse between the spheres of authority and influence would explain why the NLD is seen as a threat.

Ana and the limits of Myanmafication

Taylor contributed some valuable conclusions in his work, such as pointing out that there are very few agencies in Burma which have a view of the country as a total entity. So therefore, the role of the army is useful when it comes to unifying the country. Also, there is room for Taylor's focus on ‘authority’ [ana]. Unlike western definitions of government, in which ana-style behaviour unconfirmed by elections results in disqualification from government, in Burma ana is still seen as a most crucial attribute of government.

However, his approach is so narrowly focused on army ana politics that he is blinkered to most other aspects of Burmese politics. His assessment of political values, he admits himself, is entirely based on ana, for he analyses the regime and the NLD in terms of ‘two contrasting sets of values and political concepts of authority in contemporary Burmese political life’.[63] In such narrow political perspective there is evidently no room for the concept of influence, and we cannot expect an ana army-centred explanation to be able to account for electorally-addressed politics, which is about awza.

But when exploring Burmese politics, why stop at only explaining the functions of ana? Why only focus

on the functionality and benefits of ana instruments? Why congratulate a cuckoo on the way it keeps such beautiful and tight control over its conquered nest? There is no excuse for replicating the army's views of itself to account for the politics of the whole of Burma, especially when such views is itself productive of the very political disorder the army are supposed to resolve. In particular Taylor's later work fails by not drawing attention to the fact that the post-1988 unrest is self-created, by a regime creating its own enemies by ‘foreignising’ them. It is also self-created by not permitting agencies independent from the army to develop unhindered in society. Here, ana is no longer a unifying force, but a divisive one that leads to the destruction of a country. The regime is repeating the error made by royalty in the 19th century. The reforms proposed by Kanaung and Hpo Hlaing – the men with awza –were insufficiently heeded in the period 1850–70. The reason why only the army supposedly can save Burma today, is because it has eliminated the outward signs of anything influential in society besides itself, except for Buddhism. Taylor thus contributes an incomplete perspective to the situation that has serious consequences for Burma not today, but tomorrow. It leaves the army with the illusion that its vision of Burma can be legitimated and can work, whereas it simply can not. If the army had encouraged awza from outside its ranks back in 1962, the course of Burma's history would have been different, and today's situation would not have been so uncompromising.

The Myanmar self-sufficiency myth

Harking back to the isolation of the hermit state, members of the regime proclaim that, unlike their unpatriotic political opponents, they are self-sufficient and that their strength is entirely based on internal sources. For example, at the human resources conference, General Khin Nyunt noted that ‘we are at present engaged in the task of building a modern developed nation, relying on our own natural and human resources and our own internal strength.’[64]

In order to bolster this ‘internal’ strength, without external enemies to speak of, the size of the army has more than doubled since 1988 to half a million men, and the question arises how large an internal strength does a country need to defeat a non-existing external threat? This growth is primarily financed by the civilian population of Burma who have come to see the army as a major burden – as parasites rather than liberators.

In spite of this discourse of self-sufficiency, the regime has in fact survived only because of support outside its own ranks. It forces the civilian population to surrender its scarce labour and resources for its support with no compensation. Furthermore, it would not survive were it not for relying on a handful of foreign opportunist governments and businesses and on its own businesses such as the UMEH. Instead of the BSPP policy of complete neutrality, the regime has aligned itself in particular with Asian countries for moral and financial support, including China and Japan.

As I have pointed out, much has been financed by government support from in particular countries such as China, Singapore, South Korea, Indonesia and Japan, and from businesses world-wide, but mostly from Asian countries. As we have seen, Japan has provided a great deal more than moral support to this regime and is about to re-embark using ODA assistance to refloat the regime. Furthermore, we have also noted how many other private nationals, businesses, governments and NGOs, along with tourists, are involved in keeping the regime in place.[65]

One issue I have not even dealt with is the Sinicisation of Burma. Subsequent to a major arms deal worth an estimated US$1 billion with China in 1989, the regime has permitted an open inflow of major investments from China, with the result that, for example, Mandalay, the second largest city of Burma, is now known as ‘Second Hong Kong’. It has accepted various kinds of aid and loans from China. In the space of barely a decade the original Burmese inhabitants have moved out and sold their land, and the city is now owned by Chinese traders.[66] The idea here is that, as in Thailand, the Chinese will introduce commerce to the country to help generate its wealth.

This regime could not have sustained itself without these foreign supporters. In fact, the regime, has not relied on ‘internal strength’ at all, but has set itself up to optimally attract foreign funding – it is happy to be

floated by foreign money. As I have noted, it has set up various GONGOs and respectable ‘commissions’ through which it hopes to attract funds. Furthermore, it has used the propensity of foreign governments to see support for cultural projects as innocent and uncontroversial, to make a case for foreign support of Myanmar culture, which at the official level at least, is separated from Buddhism, though in practice, we have seen that Buddhism is seen as intrinsically part of the total cultural package. In repackaging Buddhism as culture, this has permitted it to attract substantial foreign funds while at the same time attaining its national unification objectives.

In the process, however, the army has lost the ability to unify, for its barracks have become symbols of intrusion in the Burmese villages, where it is impoverishing the countryside through its lack of respect for human life and property. Like a cancer, it is destroying the fabric of society only so that it can keep the upperhand.

Ana and ‘foreignizing’

To sustain its preposterous views of self-sufficiency the regime has to ‘foreignize’ those Burmese people not directly linked to the army. The ana approach ‘foreignises’ genuine Burmese citizens, and ‘indigenises’ those in authority. In contrast to the large-scale support the regime proudly proclaims it receives from foreign sources in the state-controlled press, every penny the NLD receives is scrutinized by military intelligence and publicised as evidence of support by foreign powers for subversive elements in Burmese society.[67] The SLORC's tendency to publicise Aung San Suu Kyi's every move for propaganda purposes, and its tendency to publicise its own benevolence towards her, meant that Aung San Suu Kyi steadfastly refused to accept any support from the regime. This already began when she refused offers of electricity and food. Indeed, she has sold her furniture and possessions in order to finance her own upkeep.

The regime could not handle this independence. In a society permeated by authority with cetana and with the upper hand in the patron-client relationship, not to accept benevolence from the generals is considered a serious snub. The only propaganda they could achieve was to show how she relied on foreign elements. They investigated her every possible connection with foreigners. They confiscated packages sent by her husband and photographed its contents which they published under the heading ‘The Lady's privileged foreign connection’ in the national press. The packages contained lipstick and a Jane Fonda exercise tape.[68] They also sought to turn her two sons into foreign subjects by cancelling their Burmese passports in September 1989,[69] though they had by local traditions become Burmese men since they had carried out the shinbyú novitiation ceremony in Burma.[70] They highlighted every connection Aung San Suu Kyi has with foreign countries in terms of embassy visits and foreign journalists, to show her as propped up by ‘alien’ regimes and their agents (journalists) devoted to ‘alien cultures’.[71]

Aung San Suu Kyi has set up a trust fund with the 1.2 million dollars that she earnt with her Nobel Peace Prize,[72] which she accepted in the name of the people of Burma and dedicated to the health and

education of the Burmese people. Only the royalties of Freedom from fear, her own book, were used to fund her income while she was under house arrest, but the prize money all went into the aforementioned trust fund.[73] However, the regime argues that Aung San Suu Kyi and her family are benefiting from prize money derived from her exploitation of Burma, but meanwhile members of the regime are evidently lining their pockets and living off the backs of those who are having to contribute ‘voluntary’ labour to the pagodas for which they claim merit.

Victor argues that ‘the more SLORC has tried to diminish The Lady's presence and voice by keeping a prisoner in her own house and by refusing even to call her by name, the more she and her now-famous villa have become the Mecca for the international press and visiting foreign dignitaries’.[74] However, as I see it, the SLORC had a clear objective, which is to manipulate her relation with foreigners with the view to marginalize her within Burma. The more foreigners flock to see her, the more material they would have for their propaganda that she is working against her own culture, religion and race. Furthermore, by ‘illegalising’ all forms of internal support they hoped that she would be increasingly marginalised within the country.

Instead, the reverse has happened. Not only has her popularity snowballed with the bad press she receives, which few Burmese in Burma I met took seriously, but the regime itself has turned out to be supported by foreigners more than the NLD ever has been. We find foreign governments, businesses and private individuals sprinkling their funds ever so liberally at the slightest hint by senior members of the regime. They distribute their funds, furthermore, towards the causes identified as useful by the Burmese army. This is taking place while NLD members are routinely persecuted and their livelihood is threatened by the regime's actions. The regime uses the guise of ‘crime’, ‘malpractice’ or even ordinary traffic accidents to put them away.

While members of the regime benefits from their access to foreign exchange, individuals associated with the NLD have been arrested simply for ‘illegally’ possessing a few foreign coins.

Another example of the extra-ordinary lengths to which the military regime has gone to get rid of MPs is that of elected NLD MP from Pantanaw township, Dr. Tin Min Htut. The military regime summoned officials from all departments of the town and asked them if Dr. Tin Min Htut had violated any law. When they could not find fault with him, the town police chief ordered his men to find anything that could incriminate the NLD MP. The police searched his house and found two Singaporean coins in a small toy cup his son was playing with. Dr. Tin Min Htut was then arrested for illegal possession of a foreign currency and given a three-year sentence.[75]

The army itself is ready to accept tribute in the form of donations imported from abroad and denominated in US dollar value from private individuals seeking to curry favour as reported in the national press, and as blatantly sanctioned by the presence of none other than the chairman of UMEH.[76]

Victor, the journalist the SLORC invited to Burma in the hope she would reveal ‘the truth’ about the country, provides damaging information concerning the procedure whereby ministers of the regime filter foreign currency from official government transactions. For example, the SLORC agrees to sell rice at one $230 per tonne, but writes a memorandum to the buyer for a sum of $238, pocketing the difference. These may be small amounts compared to the Marcos and Suharto regimes, where 30–50% kickbacks were not unusual, but it remains a fact that those who are in charge of foreign accounts ‘have a licence to steal’. In particular she examines the transactions of General Maung Maung who, as Minister of Livestock and Fisheries, was involved in privatising the first Burmese industries. He accomplished this in particular with the aid of the controversial Miriam Segal, whose life was open to scrutiny after Peregrine, the company who employed her for her connections to the SLORC, sued her in American courts for accepting work from their competitor Mitsui.[77] Today, General Maung Maung is a Minister in the Office of the Prime Minister.

There is therefore, an ironic paradox here concerning foreign support,

He [General Maung Aye] emphasized that the twelve political, economic and social objectives of the State are the correct path for the entire public and that all must be vigilant against the destructionists who are attempting through various means to drive a wedge between the Tatmadaw and the people, deviate from the correct path, split national unity and create suspicion among the Tatmadawmen. These destructionists. . .are trying with the support of external elements rather than internal strength to cheat and mislead the public and so, all must ostracize, oppose and crush them regarding them as common enemy

in accordance with the people's desire.[78]

While the regime portrays Aung San Suu Kyi as supported by foreigners (‘with the support of external elements rather than internal strength’), I have shown that the regime is itself achieving its Myanmafication programme with foreign, and in particular with Japanese money, and many members furthermore privately take kickbacks. It is therefore the regime that is propped up with foreign money, more than any, for other groups could not possibly receive the funding, even if they wanted to. Not only are there no sources for independent revenue inside the country, but to accept it would mean having one's financial details splashed on the front pages of the regime-controlled press as evidence of ‘subversive manipulation by aliens in the internal affairs of Myanmar’.

I have already focused on the problem that, in the absence of a popular party mechanism that could serve its ends, the regime has sought, through its extensive use of GONGOs, to attain total control over the Burmese communities, and to deprive opposition groups of any form of indigenously derived support. Through the UMEH it controls the economy of Burma. In depriving the opposition from indigenous support, this has necessarily resulted in foreign sources being the only viable means of support. People in opposition have only two choices, prison or living abroad. Within this discourse, ‘foreignness’ conflates at one and the same time the idiom of the foreigner and that of the opposition. It is the regime's own narrow delineation of Myanmar through its Myanmafication programme that Burma's opposition politicians are being turned to seek support from foreign diplomats and foreign politicians. This situation is then, its own creation.

The regime uses the idiom of culture to consolidate its control over channels of support for autonomous agencies operating independently. In supporting the regime to legitimise itself as an architect of a ‘national civilization’ which threatens to disregard the plural equivalence of cultures, and in rooting political reality ultimately in a singular representation of culture, foreign governments and businesses dealing with the military directly participate in supporting a discourse which permits no opposition. This kind of politics is not capable or willing to address common interests in the greater universal values outside the domain of a very narrow, selectively devised, Myanmar civilization.

In turning all those outside the ana-mandala into ‘foreigners’, it then becomes easy to maintain this approach simply by ruling out a role for ‘outsiders’ in government. It argues for a new state constitution in which those with foreign relations are not permitted office in the country, yet Ne Win is partly of Chinese background, has German daughter-in-law, and many members of the regime are of mixed racial origin. Furthermore, in order to retain his grip on power and because he had tightened the rules about foreign connections in his concern to foreignise the political opposition, Khin Nyunt had to denounce Dr Ye Naing Win, his own son, who had married a Singaporean.[79] According to the rules of political office he drew up himself, he would not be permitted to keep office unless he did this.

Conclusion

Ana is an indispensable component in government, but awza is more so. To analyse Burmese politics entirely in terms of ana is extremely one-sided. For a government to be effective, it must be respected and be able to harness full support from the population. In taking an ana army-centred approach, Taylor entered Burmese politics, as does the army, without raising the broader, less tangible, more fluid, local cultural and Buddhist angles that belong in the awza domain. This means that he cannot satisfactorily explain the 1960 AFPFL victories nor the 1990 NLD victories except as an expression of authoritarian sentiment by rival local armies. He implies that the victory of both is due to the dissatisfaction of local boh and the many pocket armies who rebel against army rule, but he does not explain why the army lacks awza among the people. His argument, furthermore, does not explain why the SLORC believed it could win, and yet spectacularly lost the votes of even its own officers and soldiers when it came to the privacy afforded by the ballot box. Furthermore, in not dealing fully with the instrument of military, namely military intelligence, he creates the illusion that the message of the State enjoyed voluntary acceptance, thus lending it an air of legitimacy. Not to deal with ‘democracy’ was, of course, an error of judgment I need not repeat.

Focusing on the cultural and religious models of Burmese politics would, I suggest, explain a lot of

hitherto unexplained features. First, it would explain why the regime could not have anticipated its failure in the 1990 elections. The regime itself has been fooled by the apparently submissive cultural behaviour that the Burmese exhibit when they talk to an ana (cf. awza) government. Their sentiments of disagreement do exist, but they remain submerged until the opportunity presents itself to ‘show their feelings’ [SNãòpty\], whether it be an auspicious time or day, or at the ballot box. These more submerged concepts of politics require a very different approach; not permitted a life outside, the Burmese are primarily coming to terms with their political preferences through ‘mental politics’ in which ‘mental culture’ is, as I shall show, the only one permitted and understood on both sides of the political divide, for it is productive of both awza and ana.

Second, Aung San Suu Kyi adopted the higher awza Buddhist vocabulary to express her opposition to the regime pitched in a battle with ana politics. Based on the power of the powerless, it is largely invisible, does not have a single centre, crosses boundaries and is therefore much more difficult to describe. This kind of ‘disorganised’ awza politics is beyond Taylor's approach, fixed on high profile instruments of authority as it is.

Third, as I have explained, the breakdown of ana demands regeneration through awza. This would explain why the regime itself since the 1988 uprisings has not only organised elections, but has taken up culture and Buddhism as a platform in order to compensate for its facelessness and its lack of charisma. Ne Win's awza worked through Aung San, but Aung San has now been re-assassinated. As there is no privileged entry point into awza politics, except as what the people of Burma grant the person, the military is now trying compensate for its facelessness by using culture and Buddhism to gain awza style influence with the electorate in a clumsy ana sort of way. I propose that its complexity, and Taylor's lack of appreciation of Buddhist concepts, is one of the reasons why he simply did not ‘see’ this dimension of Burmese politics. I wonder, how will Taylor account for this militarism without the higher ideology of socialism.

Broadly speaking, then, the Burmese themselves, in terms of their outward behaviour, and the way they are spun into a web of patron-client relationships, are in no doubt that the generals in power are indeed a form of government, namely an ana government with ultimate power over their lives. However, they are highly ambivalent and suspicious about this power in a way which does not secure or promise their voluntary co-operation. This is what produces the tragic irony of a government trumpeting its own unique ‘good intentions’ [cetana] while building pagodas by recruiting ‘voluntary labourers’ or ‘masters of cetana [goodwil]’ [cetana shin