World affairs

By Robert Carry

The teenage faces of the diminutive but heavily armed soldiers standing guard outside the cavernous Defence Services Museum in central Yangon register surprise verging on alarm at the sight of a western visitor.

Cyclone Nargis, which cut through the country back in May 2007 killing at least 78,000 and leaving a further 56,000 missing, decimated tourist figures already hit hard by the ruling military junta’s violent response to the previous year’s pro-democracy protests. Foreigners are now a rarity.

Entry visas are difficult to secure and the authorities have been diligent in their efforts to root out foreign journalists attempting to reveal the extent of the neglect and repression the Burmese struggle under. For westerners who do make it into the country, the junta’s Defence Services Museum is the last place on their list of must-sees.

The gates of the Defence Services Museum in Central Yangon

The formalities conducted at the doorway of the sprawling, mothballed complex consist of a search by an aggressive team of armed soldiers, the seizure of cameras, payment of a fee and the issuance of a visitor pass.

Although the museum was constructed just 17 years ago at a cost of around €6 million, the 60 tattered showrooms that make up its glum interior suggest up-keep funds are limited. The World Bank claims some 40 per cent of Burma’s national budget is spent on its 400,000-strong military, but little of the money appears to filter down to the museum.

Bringing along a local guide means one isn’t assigned from among the uniformed ranks. ‘Pha’ however, is virulently anti-government and as such is nervous about walking into an establishment swarming with military.

 

A Burmese monk sits in Burma's Shwedagon Pagoda

A high wall just inside the museum’s main door is decorated with a pyramid of portrait-style photos depicting men in military uniform. It outlines the structure of the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC), the body through which the all-pervading military runs virtually every aspect of the country, and the faces featured are those of its top generals. The benevolent countenance of senior general Than Shwe sits at its pinnacle.

A brief stop to examine the pictures prompts a bout of nervous shuffling, murmuring and gesticulation from the group of soldiers and green-clad staff members standing at the doorway and Pha, sensing the tension, indicates that the tour should proceed.