CURRENT CONDITIONS IN YANGON

 

Less than a century ago Yangon was one of Asia's wealthiest cities with, behind only New York, the world's second busiest migrant port. What developed as a result was a capitalist multicultural economic zone on an grid street plan, like an organic garden growing out of a planter box made of a concrete mixture of modernism and colonialism - the country was called British Burma until 1948. After independence and successive military governments, the Burmese Way to Socialism, and a more recent coup, the prospect of a flourishing Burma has died.  

 

For an array of ideological, social, geopolitical and economic reasons the country is marked by extreme poverty, inflation, litter, wealth inequality, rolling blackouts and an inability for many foreign firms to do business here. Debates might rage between what specter exactly is the culprit, comprehensive international sanctions or the outsized role of state planning in the economy; the effect is the same the Burmese people are effectively cut out of the world market. Myanmar ranks 167th out of 177 countries in economic freedom - not far ahead of North Korea and Cuba. For ten years Burma was slowly transitioning away from military government towards liberal democracy. Pre-Covid, the economy was booming with real GDP growth rates in the extremely high range between 5.5 and 8%; but with a pandemic and a military coup, as the world closed so did the Burmese economy and country.  

 

This is directly observable from the ground. Yangon's shopping centers and markets are busy but operate without electricity. Few western companies make their way into the country. Snickers, Coca-Cola and MasterCard make the cut, but not McDonalds or the Shangri-La hotel. Snooping through a supermarket catering to the Burmese elite, it appears south China provides most of the small appliances and household items. International goods are available but their equally international prices are out of reach for most Burmese. Convenience stores appear half-empty apart from the presence of the ubiquitous Myanmar beer and other more intense liquor. 

 

Yangon's electricity supply is unreliable, to say the least. Most large buildings were observed to be resorting to diesel generators, however most apartment buildings and offices do not have lit stairways. Many banks were effectively operating without electricity - sunlight and bulky physical ledgers took the place of fluorescent tubes and excel spreadsheets. Despite this, Wifi generally works where there are generators, though a VPN is required for access to certain apps (WhatsApp in particular).  

 

My lodging in Yangon was strategically placed next to a 'tourist bureau,' a likely front for the surveillance of foreigners. This setup underscores the reality of Burma's far reach from resembling a liberal, open society. Whether or not my suspicions hold true, the perception of such surveillance speaks volumes about the state’s grip on privacy and freedom, a grim portrait of the environment travelers must navigate.

 

Yangon presents as a major human trafficking risk, with its streets devoid of many military-age men, swept up by obligatory conscription. The absence of these men leaves a palpable void, eroding the deterrent against crimes targeting women and children. In the city's shadowed back alleys, some young men are can be observed sneaking a cigarette (Burma has the world's second highest tobacco use) - they find work largely back of house as cooks, waiters, busboys, hidden from the broader chaos. Though many of the the good young men are gone, and the broader population is overwhelmingly polite, the air is occasionally sliced by the vicious stares of local hoods. I worry that these miniature gangsters who take advantage of Burmese politeness at the city level also fill the power vacuum at the country level. This adds a layer of danger to the already tense atmosphere, disrupting a normal cultural civility with a menacing presence.

 

Yangon stands as an 'OG' melting pot, deeply enriched by sizable Indian and Chinese communities that add layers of diversity to its union. The cityscape is marked not only by Buddhist pagodas but also by extremely prominent and beautiful Catholic and Anglican cathedrals, Hindu temples, and Muslim mosques, each adding a distinct spiritual dimension to an already immaterial place. Despite this multicultural vibrancy, what should be the Yangon's most internationalist neighborhood - Chinatown, reveals the broader isolation: a noticeable absence of foreign tourists post-Covid, post-Coup. This emptiness underscores Yangon's disconnection from the outside world, a poignant symbol of a city, and a country, enveloped in isolation despite its rich multicultural history. 

 

Private education centers persist and still appear to be everywhere, catering to the middle, upper-middle, and upper-upper echelons of Burmese society with curricula like IGCSE and the A Levels. These institutions stand as a testament to the aspirations of Rangoon parents who envision their children as future global citizens. However, despite these ambitions, the harsh realities of sanctions, ongoing conflict, and pervasive violence remove the potential for the sort of flourishing private education market that exists in most other East Asian nations.

 

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