Burma's curious socialism
John O'Sullivan
Rangoon The monsoon was in full spate when I arrived here. So, assisted by an eager taxi-driver, I set off at once in search of an umbrella. My first stop was at a large, bustling market on a small muddy field just out of the centre of the City, where everything from refrigerators to laxatives seemed to be on sale.
'This is impressive. What is it called?' I asked.
'Sir, it is called the black market,' replied my driver helpfully. 'Very many fine umbrellas from Hong Kong and Japan here.' And so there were. But all of them cost £4 at least more than I wanted to pay for five days' Shelter. Was there anywhere I could buy a cheap locally produced umbrella?
'What you want is a price-controlled umbrella, less than £2, sir, from the government shops.' We returned to the centre of Rangoon to the official market and entered a large shop in which several assistant supe umtended the spacious but largely empty shelves. Yes, they had no umbrellas. But they had heard where umbrellas might be available. Again, we set off hopefully. In the fifth umbrella shop, I saw with relief a dozen Cr so black umbrellas hanging up. But my guide dashed my hopes. These were ladies' umbrellas.
'I'm not particular about my reputation in Rangoon. I'll take this one,' I said. But it was too late. The taxi driver, experienced in such searches, was already on his way to the next shop, Eventually, in the eleventh (twelfth? thirteenth? I was vague and gibbering by then) shop, I purchased a fine, cheap, guaranteed-for-five-days, black umbrella at a price decreed by the far-sighted Burmese government.
This experience was some aid to understanding the Burmese economy. Normally it is a socialist economy, with industries nationalised and foreign trade controlled. But, in reality, something between sixty and eighty per cent of Burma's trade is carried on by the black market. People resort to it for almost every imaginable need whisky, cigarettes, stationery, drugs, electrical goods, etc. Hospital patients have even been known to buy their bandages there when a shortage of dressings in Burma's socialist medical system was holding up operations.
Since 1973, the one-party government of General Ne Win and the Burma Socialist Programme Party, in order to retain some popular support, has turned a blind eye to this ideological backsliding. And even if the government wished to control black market operations, it would be quite unable to do so. Though aspiring in theory to plan the entire economy, the Burmese government does not even govern the entire country. Large areas are in effect administered by rebel groups the Burma Communist Party in the North East, various ethnic minorities, hill tribes, and even the remnants of Chiang Kai-shek's Nationalist Chinese Army. Some of these groups are engaged in local guerilla wars against the central government in genuine pursuit of autonomy; others are little more than business enterprises devoted to making money on the black market. At any rate, they finance their various activities by organising and 'taxing' trade, especially cross-border trade with Thailand. Rice, precious stones, teak, minerals and, in particular, opium are exported from Burma; consumer goods are brought in.
Indeed this black economy virtually props up the official socialism which, even so, has had a retrogressive effect on Burma. Pre-war writers on the country gave a favourable picture of a growing economy. 'Burma ranks as a 'commercial country of some importance,' wrote Sir Herbert Thirkell White, a former Burmese civil servant in 1921. And, by the Thirties, the country was one of the world's largest exporters of rice. Rangoon at that time was a port with trade larger than any Indian port apart from Bombay and Calcutta. 1,600 steamers berthed there in 1930. Even today, the visitor can see that Burma is a naturally rich country with a small popu lation of 32 million, abundant natural resources tin, tungsten, coal, silver, oil, timber and considerable reserves of precious stones and agriculturally very fertile. This natural wealth is reflected in the relatively slow and relaxed life of the Burmese and in the apparent absence of severe poverty.
Nonetheless, under Ne Win's socialism, Burma today is a dis-developing country. Rangoon itself is a crumbling city with roads left unrepaired and pavements cracked and muddy. State concerns seem to be generally inefficient and overmanned including the agents provocateurs who cluster round tourists outside hotels and pagodas, offering to exchange dollars at four times the official rate. Exchange control, as always, has spawned a large and intrusive bureaucracy. And there is surely something odd about an airline which refuses to sell air tickets more than one day ahead of departure and which will not sell return tickets at any price, especially when tourists are limited to a sevenday stay in the country and must therefore try to plan ahead.
Trade has fallen off as well. Only 200,000 tons of rice were exported last year compared to two million tons in 1962 and over three million tons pre-war. Teak, although the second largest export, is also below prewar production levels. And the port of Rangoon is so little used -only six hundred ships called there last year that there are now fears of its silting up.
But traffic on the roads presents the most colourful illustration of Burma's curious socialism. 'Treat this car with respect it's older than you,' advised a friend as I got into an early Forties American taxi. Buses dating from the second world war are still in use and reconditioned,jeeps, kept going by skilled, almost psychic maintenance, are everywhere. Import controls on cars have created this artificial scarcity, pushed up the price and so transformed Rangoon into a sort of automobile museum. Alongside these old bangers, however, you will see modern Japanese Toyotas and even the odd Mercedes. For the government allows Burmese to import cars if they have earned enough foreign exchange by working abroad. Only they must pay an importduty of 325 percent. But this iswell worth it. Once inside Burma a Japanese car can be re-sold for about ten times its purchase price. Who can afford these high prices? Two classes of people have done very well out of the Burmese road to socialism, namely corrupt officials and black marketeers. No one has done quite so well, however, as General Ne Win, who seized power in 1962, established his oneparty state, founded a party to go with it and now rules as President of its ramshackle austerity. A wealthy and much married man, Ne Win used to be a famous playboy. He was constantly seen at restaurants and in night clubs, Now, he spends most of his time in Europe seeing doctors about his health. So he has banned race-courses, night clubs and even dancing in restaurants. But he still plays golf. And there is no import duty on golfing equipment.
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