A white elephant in the middle of nowhere

In the news this week, though not likely on everyone’s tongue, is the difficult-to-remember and even harder-to-pronounce Naypyidaw, the capital of Myanmar. If the name sounds unfamiliar, it’s because it’s a fairly new capital created in 2002 by the military junta that ruled Burma totally and absolutely until 2011 when it began to implement democratic reforms.

Located 320 kilometers north of the old capital, Yangon, Naypyidaw sits in the middle of nowhere. What used to be empty brush land was converted into a sprawling development with eight-lane avenues and big roundabouts built along shiny new government buildings, over 300 hotels and 400 plus inns, a grand convention center, and then some. 

Naypyidaw is everything that the former capital isn’t. It is modern, efficient, huge – and empty. There is none of the tree-lined avenues and gracious homes of Yangon, its quiet lakes, its sacred temples and the bustle of downtown. Naypyidaw has no people rushing through its roads or jogging or walking their pets and the elderly. In fact, on the day we visited Naypyidaw, there wasn’t a soul on the streets, and ours was practically the only vehicle on its concrete roads.

This is not the Myanmar – or Burma – that we read about in culture and travel books, and the Asian history we learned in school.  This is the capital of the junta’s dreams – grand, efficient and secure. Although the regime built a shiny replica of Yangon’s revered centuries-old Shwedagon temple in Naypyidaw, it looks anachronistic amid the newness and isolation of the new city.

Naypyidaw is perhaps one of the saddest capitals in the world, and I say this only because I‘ve never been to North Korea. It is alien and isolated -- far removed -- physically, culturally and spiritually -- from the life of the Burmese people.

Naypyidaw is a name that has refused to latch on to my memory, perhaps because I so object to its premise.  When it was reported in 2002 that the Burmese generals were building a new capital in Naypyidaw, the world raised a collective eyebrow. Moving the capital to a god-forsaken town at least five hours drive by car from the center of the Burmese people’s lives was rather extreme. What were the generals up to? What were they hiding from their people and the world?

Well, in hindsight, the generals did display good foresight. If they could not prevent the international press from covering the pro-democracy protests in Yangon, the government was, at least, protected from the prying eyes of the world.

But now that the generals have opened up the country to democracy, people’s participation in governance is growing, and the world’s attention is focused on Myanmar, it is very impractical to have the seat of government miles away from Yangon, where things actually happen in that country. Getting there is inconvenient and costly. And once there, getting around the government ministries built kilometers apart, is difficult. The small commercial center where one can get food and drink after a long trip, is still a long ride away. Naypyidaw is not people-friendly.

I was in Naypyidaw for a meeting this week, on the day before the ASEAN Summit opened, as part of a volunteer group working on human rights with ASEAN governments. Our group landed in Yangon and travelled by land to Naypyidaw. In the five-hour drive on the freeway, our van was practically the only vehicle on the road.

The hotel where we were to meet with the senior officials was in the high security area where the imposing new convention center and the resort-style five-star hotels where the heads of state would be staying are located.  The wide avenue was festooned with balloons announcing the Summit, and the hotels had big welcome signs for the expected foreign guests. Obviously, Myanmar was thrilled to be hosting the annual ASEAN Summit for the first time since it became the tenth member of the regional body, and they pulled out all the stops.

The five-star hotels and villas built around a man-made lake, the beautifully landscaped gardens and the gracious staff, offered the height of luxurious living. But it was all so antiseptic, bizarre even – a soul-less display of wealth and power, devoid of spirit, culture, passion.  Where, in this picture-perfect setting,  were the Burmese people?

Naypyidaw is the perfect setting for a meeting that is all-business and requires the strictest of security arrangements. The place is totally sanitized. Despite its many spectacular amenities, there is no danger of running into any locals or even foreign tourists on vacation. It is just not a place anyone would go to for a holiday.

After this week, the hundreds of hotel rooms that were built for the 2014 ASEAN Summit, and earlier for the 2013 Southeast Asian Games, will be empty. It will take a major hard sell for the government to attract groups to come stay in this white elephant in the middle of nowhere that is so far removed from the rest of the country and from what the Burmese people are about -- simple, outgoing, friendly folk with a soul and culture that mirrors a deep Buddhist spirituality. 

The junta that envisioned Naypyidaw clearly didn’t have the Burmese people in mind.