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Boycott bleeds MyanmarHowever well-meaning, efforts to keep tourists from Burma, or Myanmar, only hurts the people, who have had enough of isolation. If only boycott advocates would stop patting themselves on the back and tour Myanmar, they would find nobody likes life on a Lonely PlanetBy Ron Gluckman /in Yangon, Bagan, Pyay, Myanmar, and Bangkok, Thailand WE'RE BUMPING ALONG RUTTED ROADS in a dusty rented car, Tony and the driver up front, Maureen and me in back, when Tony, face pressed in his Lonely Planet guidebook, suggests another stop. Up ahead is Thayekhittaya, ruins dating back 2,500 years. The description is
enticing, but we cannot help but groan. For eight long hours we've been lurching
on the road north from Myanmar's capital, Yangon. We ache, it's nearly dark, and
tomorrow morning promises another long ride to Bagan, the ancient city that sits
a day's ride further to the north, the goal of this journey. "It takes nine monks to lift the glasses every fortnight to clean them," Tony gleefully recites from the guide he keeps close at hand. To be honest, we are a bit Buddha-ed out, a common condition among tourists in this pagoda-packed land. Still, it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, exhorts Tony. So, as the sun sets, we're tramping through muddy fields — only the temples
are so far away, we never reach one. "Gee, this book should better explain
the distance," says Tony, unabashed. "You really need more time
here." With their down-to-earth, first-person reports of how to get there, what to see and where to stay, plus their in-depth sections on history, culture and the environment, all delivered with a 1960s-style counterculture slant, the Wheelers' guides have long been the bible for independent travelers. But Tony and Maureen were not
trudging through Myanmar to check on the accuracy of travel times in their book
on the country. They came to this tragic but beautiful land because human rights
activists have organized a boycott aimed at forcing them to cease publication of
their Myanmar guide. "Lonely Planet's promotion of tourism to Burma . . . have left pro-democracy activists with no choice but to call for a boycott." The campaigners last year asked concerned travelers to stop buying any Lonely Planet books as long as the company publishes a Myanmar guide. The Wheelers reaction? "We were completely stunned," says Maureen. After all, their guides provide blunt expositions of human rights violations in addition to explaining how to get to obscure pagodas and where to find the best cheap meals. The company donates part of its profits to causes like women's rights and the
environment (and including, for many years, Burma Campaign).
Only repressive governments ban Lonely Planet guides for being too honest about
the problems in countries they cover. Or so the Wheelers thought. Tourism might seem a strange target in the battle against the junta, but the long stalemate has forced drastic tactics. The regime's plan to boost visitor numbers in the 1990s presented an obvious Achilles' Heel. Aung San Suu Kyi called on would-be tourists to shun her
country, arguing that their money only helped the military, not the ordinary
people. From there, the boycott has grown from telling foreigners not to go to
Myanmar, to insisting that they not even buy books about going to Myanmar. The Wheelers were not sure. A two-page section in the Lonely Planet Myanmar guide outlines the pros and cons, but concludes: "Tourism remains one of the only industries to which ordinary people have access. Any reduction in tourism automatically means a reduction in local income earning opportunities. For this reason alone, we continue to believe that the positives of travel to Myanmar outweigh the negatives." Still, logic dictates that the debate be decided
in the country in question, not at the home office. Hence, Tony and Maureen have
come to Myanmar to see things for themselves. Asiaweek tagged along for our own
look. If no tourists come, the
49-year-old grandfather would need a new job. Tint worked as a government civil
engineer for 20 years. He saved up his money, and in 1995 bought a second-hand
car and went into the taxi business. Now he can make $10 a day, six times his
old salary. "What is bad," he says, "is this boycott. We need
more tourists, not less." "Most of us came in the early 1990s, when there was great promise," says Arbind Shrestha, general manager of Trader's, Yangon's largest luxury hotel . "The government made a commitment to open the market." His company, Shangri-la Hotels and Resorts, put $85 million into Myanmar, where it planned two hotels. Only the 392-room Trader's was completed. The shells and abandoned construction
sites of stalled projects litter the capital, reminders of a tourist boom that
never happened. Occupancy around Yangon runs 25%-30%, against normal industry
targets of 70%-80%. Says Shrestha: "We all feel cheated." The spread has only
widened, he guesses. "I'd estimate that tourism brings Myanmar at least
100,000 jobs, and a million or more indirectly." Now, he
boasts business cards and works for a local travel agency. And he's not afraid
to speak his mind. "We want change," Newton says over a curry in a
shop not far from Sule. "But this movement really needs the help of our
friends," he adds. "We need tourists and we need business. Reform will
come later." I hear that sentiment expressed everywhere I go. Repeated so often by tour operators, hoteliers, taxi drivers, students, waiters, old friends that I fret about balance. Surely, somewhere there is someone who supports the boycott. Finally, I meet Herve and Thuzar. Herve's a Frenchman who quit selling stocks in Paris to roam around the world. In Burma, he fell in love with a land, a people, and Thuzar. They run a boutique travel agency taking small groups to amazing parts of the country. "Perhaps with a boycott, it will give Burma a chance to go slowly and avoid all the mistakes of places like Thailand," he muses one magical night at a rooftop restaurant with moonlit views of the golden domes of Sule and Shwedagon. The latter inspired Rud-yard Kipling to write: "This is Burma and it will be quite unlike any land you know." Herve knows the feeling. "Of course, anyone who really wants to come will. They would be fools not to." Not quite the kind of support the boycotters are looking
for. "We agonized over the decision to start trips to Burma," says Intrepid's responsible travel coordinator Jane Crouch. Trips started in 1995 and were among the company's most popular offerings, she says. But the last tours finished a year ago. Melbourne staff felt the trips implied support of the junta. (Some say the firm bowed to pressure.) Tour leaders in Myanmar stayed on. "I couldn't just leave all these people we had trained. They trusted us," says Ian Marsh, a former Intrepid guide who now runs a firm called Global Drift and sells trips to essentially the same clientele, but quietly. "Nobody here wants the
boycott," he says. "They want us here, and I believe we should be
here, too." Keeping the focus on the tourist trade, the International Labor Organization said in 1998 that the government uses forced labor widely, including in tourism projects. Residents
have been evicted from some tourism sites, such as the ancient city of Bagan
(also known as Pagan) in 1990. Authorities claimed it was to protect the
archeological zone, then cluttered with guesthouses and tourist stalls. Critics
countered that poor folk were swept aside for military-linked hotels. A decade
later, Old Bagan's only new development is a big museum. Nyet has bulging muscles from building his riverside restaurant, where he serves Burmese favorites. Crafts from nearby villages are displayed for sale. Recent visitors included a group of German doctors, in country to perform free operations to repair cleft palates.
"Tell people this boycott is completely
wrong," he says. "The government and the people are different.
Boycotts hit the people. When tourists don't come, everybody suffers." Long before the crimson glow fades from the plain, most of
them rush down to buses, then roar off to dinner shows at huge riverside
restaurants. Left behind are a few awe-struck young travelers who came by bike. And why have these few independent travellers come? "It's a beautiful country and everyone is happy to see us," one replies. "Nobody says, 'Why did you come?'" Peter, from Germany, sits in a
tourist-oriented eatery, munching pizza. "I wanted to see for myself. Who's
to say if tourists don't come the government will change?" "Most likely it will turn the clock back, not
forward," says Joe Cummings, who wrote the Lonely Planet guide.
"Believe me, I want to see {the junta} toppled as much as anyone," he
adds, "but there isn't a single indication that isolation will work. I
remain convinced at least for the time being that it can only bring negative
results." "We advocate a total tourism boycott," says Soe Aung, the Thailand-based director of foreign affairs for the All Burmese Students Democratic Front. "Lonely Planet is a business that acts in its own interest. They don't care about the Burmese. They only want to sell books." Maung Maung, general secretary of the Federation of Trade
Unions of Burma, says the world should ratchet up the pressure. "Engagement
doesn't help," he says over coffee at Starbuck's in Bangkok. And the
suffering inside Myanmar? "This is a crisis situation. People just have to
tighten their belts." The junta couldn't break his spirit, but he was booted out of the NLD for daring to question its policies. "They insisted that we agree to follow their stand without consultation. I couldn't. I was an elected official. That's not democracy." He adds: "This boycott is bad for the
country. The generals just get richer and the poor get poorer. We need contact
{with the outside world}, investment and industry. Foreigners bring ideas,
skills. That's what we need. That's the only way forward." When we discuss Burmese activists working outside their country, her eyes burn. "Tell them, come back here. Bring your children and march in the streets, then I'll march with you." Ma Thanegi is
a painter and writer well known to the Burmese lobby. One piece penned for an
Asian magazine was reprinted by Lonely Planet as "The Burmese
Fairytale." It concludes: "Myanmar has many problems, largely the
result of 30 years of isolation. More isolation won't fix the problems. Don't
close the door on us in the name of democracy." "I didn't want to stay longer in Burma because tourism is so bad," he says. "Besides, that was enough to get a feel of the situation." Ivan is
wearing a anti-child labor T-shirt. "It's another of our causes," he
notes. As we leave the plane, he slips on an Aung San Suu Kyi pin. "I want
to see the reaction of the stewardesses," he confides conspiratorially. "We wrestled with the idea of putting out the book even before we heard from the boycott people," says Maureen. "We believe tourism can be a good thing, but we wanted to see for ourselves. Every-where we went, people were positive about tourism." Pulling the book would actually be the easy way out. It sells less than 5,000 copies per year; the Thailand guide sells 50,000 annually. But taking it off the shelves? "No way," says Tony. Myanmar, he reckons, isn't helped by censorship or isolation. That's not how democratic debate works. Ron Gluckman is an American reporter who is based in Hong Kong and Beijing, but who roams around Asia for a number of publications, such as Asiaweek, which ran this story in February 2001. Boycott advocates immediately criticized the piece, but it was widely praised in Myanmar, despite the fact the magazine is banned there. To return to the opening page and index
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