History:A well-connected author and academic examines the orgins of modern Burma and argues that tourism from the West could help open up the country
In a corridor in the Victoria and Albert Museum sits a golden goose, plump and glistening, an exile from the Court of Ava at Mandalay. Its label blandly states that it was a gift of the government of Burma in "generous recognition" of the museum's safeguarding of the Burmese royal regalia from 1886 to 1964.
Therein lies a story. This goose represents a messy episode in colonial history. In 1885 the British, eyeing new resources and markets, invaded upper Burma. In an empty palace at Mandalay they found King Thibaw, uncertain whether to flee or stay, with his half-sister wife and a neat pile of family heirlooms on the floor. The king was dispatched to exile in India, the treasure to Britain. Lord Dufferin, viceroy of India, set out to reshape Burma. Deciding that a puppet king would prove "a very expensive, troublesome and contumacious fiction", he opted for direct annexation as the best way of subduing this new possession. On retirement, he was rewarded with a second title: the Marquess of Dufferin and Ava.
Burma had been at a low ebb in the 1880s. Only 100 years earlier it had been one of the most aggressive forces in the region, capable of invading Thailand and defeating the hitherto invincible Qianlong emperor of China. But now it was uncertain how to respond to the modern world, whether to reform its economy and political institutions or to take refuge in a glorious past.
This dilemma has dogged Burma to the present day. British rule brought education and commercial activity, but the subtle racism that accompanied it instilled a dangerous inferiority complex. When India was bidding for independence between the wars, Burma was excluded on the grounds that it was "at another stage of political development". Nationalist politicians fell into the deadly embrace of fascism and turned east to Japan for support. When the second World War ended and another Anglo-Irishman, Sir Reginald Dorman-Smith, negotiated Burma's longed-for independence, the political structures proved too weak to hold the country together. It is now governed by a military machine that has crushed dissent, stifled the economy and wrestled with the world's longest civil war in recent history.
Thant Myint-U, the author of this excellent book, sets out to explain modern Burma by examining its origins. (A simple idea, one might say, but one that rarely takes hold in the White House.) As a grandson of U Thant, secretary-general of the United Nations, he is connected to all the key players: Aung San, who led Burma to independence, U Nu, the first prime minister, and even Ne Win, the army chief turned president. He is also an academic who has published a weighty survey on Burmese history and worked for the UN. With no need to prove his scholarly credentials, Thant Myint-U has written a brisk introduction to a complex subject, interleaving it with reminiscences of his own family.
Through this lens we see a whole class of gentry and educated officials who might have been able to create a modern, unified Burma but were systematically removed - wiped out - the gentry by the British, the officials by the generals. The Indians, backbone of the engine that drove the economy, fled at the outset of the second World War. The Karens, Kachins and hill tribes are engaged in a bloody fight for autonomy. What is left, says Thant Myint-U, is the peasant Burma and a frightening lack of political expertise.
While other military dictatorships in Asia have at least created thriving economies, the generals have had no vision beyond a desire for order. As Ne Win ruefully explained in 1965, "every economist he talked to told him something different, and he didn't know what to do". Even 40 years later, a country that is rich in minerals, timber, oil and touristic potential is one of the poorest in Asia. Drug-running and opium production, controlled by a hill tribe with a tradition of head-hunting, are the main foreign currency earners.
So, what is to be done? During the Cold War the West condoned the generals as a bulwark against communism, but now it sees them as a problem. Political observers wring their hands, the Americans impose sanctions, moralists discourage tourism. Aung San Suu Kui, "the lady", wearer of her father's mantle, remains under house arrest. Yet although all dictatorships are unequal, some are more unequal than others. There may be over 1,000 political prisoners in Burma, but there don't appear to be vats of boiling water awaiting dissidents. Recent visitors describe the atmosphere as calm, certainly better than Tibet.
The cautious view expressed by Thant Myint-U is that the only way to prise open the system is by foreign investment and tourism. A xenophobic nationalist regime that has survived decades of self-imposed isolation is unlikely to be rattled by further isolation. Interested readers should study this book, pack their bags and go.
Lucy Trench works at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Her great-grandfather and both her grandfathers were in the Indian Political Service
The River of Lost Footsteps: Histories of Burma By Thant Myint-U Faber & Faber, 363pp. £20