Tradition vs. Modernisation: The Lives of Burmese People

Welcome to the ancient land of Myanmar, the country the world once called Burma. It's an isolated Buddhist society that's resisted rapid change for almost 2,000 years. Here the people live as they have done for centuries, following a spiritual path, seeking modesty, respect for elders, and beauty in all things. The essence of their national spirit, the people here call Bama San Chin. Little is known about this isolated country in the outside world, but that could soon change, thanks to the legendary Burma Road. Work has begun to rebuild the famous highway and connect Myanmar to the 21st century. And if the connection is managed with care, Myanmar's isolation will give way to a new place in the international community, and a new future for these children. This is the story of how this stretch of Burma Road, being rebuilt by hand, could help take an almost medieval society into the future. When it's finished, it'll pass through some of the great untouched wilderness areas still left in Asia. A giant nature reserve, one of the largest on Earth. Massive rivers, still free of destructive pollution. If this road is managed carefully, Myanmar will avoid the environmental and social disasters which have followed the arrival of Western culture throughout history. But it all depends on what happens here, along the Burma Road. Today, Myanmar is a country caught between powerful nations, which follow their own agendas for their own political and commercial advantage. To the west lies India. To the east lies China, the fastest growing economies in the world today. Myanmar is the most direct route between west and east. Only a few hundred kilometres separates them. But today, its remote valleys are a hindrance to trade worth billions every year. This muddy remnant of the legendary Burma Road, meandering through Myanmar's remote northern jungles, is the key to a radical new chapter in this country's history. There are plans to turn it into a highway to connect China and India to a concrete artery stretching all the way to Europe. It'll cut straight through northern Myanmar and two worlds will collide. This is one of them, China in the 21st century, ambitious, commercial and voracious. And just 200 kilometres away, there's the other, northern Myanmar, an almost medieval society. And surrounding it, this unpolluted, virtually undamaged wilderness. When the modern world and the wilderness collide, the effect will be profound. At this pace, the new Burma Road will be a long time coming. But the government of Myanmar is in no hurry to speed up the process. The economic benefit of controlling a lifeline between India and China is obvious. But what about the effect on a culture where most things are still done by hand? And how much will it cost to protect this vast wilderness, which is the natural heart of northern Myanmar? Burma Road begins beyond Myanmar's borders in a remote corner of north-eastern India, known as Arunchal Pradesh. Here, more than 60 years ago, young men, barely in their 20s, came from China, India, the US and Europe to fight against the Japanese. They fought and died on a muddy track they carved from the living jungle. These gravestones, buried in the remote jungles of north-eastern India, are all that mark their passing. This is just one graveyard. Many others lie undiscovered in the deep jungle. A generation lost, while their ghosts flicker on film, the black-and-white memory of war. With incredible loss of life, the plan succeeded. But as soon as the job was done, the road was abandoned and the wilderness reclaimed its own. Today, the tanks and transports are not even a distant memory. This wilderness is home to tribal people. The Mishmi, Tangsa, Singpo and the Kamti all have relied for centuries on the wealth of the forests for their livelihood. They were certainly here long before the invention of nations called India or Myanmar. These remote jungle valleys, teeming with wildlife, have always sustained the tribal people. Here, the modern notion of conservation and sustainability is a natural way of life. But ironically, that natural way of life has been the cause of constant violence along this remote border with India. For India's legendary Assam Rifles, it's a struggle to contain cross-border insurgents who want an independent country of their own. The tribes believe they have the right to hunt and trade through their traditional lands. To them, the border and the governments on each side are meaningless. But the sporadic fighting and killing means economic disaster. For Captain Rajiv Singh, the hope is that a new Burma Road, connecting India and China, will stabilize these remote valleys. With this road coming up now, it's a boon not only for the people of Arunachal Pradesh or the people of Myanmar. It is a boon for us also, and this will lead to the prosperity of the people of the area with the aim of bringing peace to the area. And if the new Burma Road does bring new prosperity, it could help tribes here on the Indian side of the border avoid a major environmental crisis. One of their few reliable sources of income comes from illegal opium poppies. So they're destroying hundreds of hectares of pristine rainforest to plant new fields. We feel bad about cutting the trees because we all depend on the jungle for hunting and for firewood and for making our homes. But to get more money, we need the fields for growing poppies. And when the destruction is over, these innocent-looking plants arise out of the wreckage to cause fresh conflict between the tribes and the Indian government. Myanmar has virtually wiped out opium cultivation in its northwest border areas. But here in India, the authorities still struggle with eradication. Opium brings cash to hundreds of villages like this, and with it, the devastating problem of addiction. The people are anxious to remove opium from their lives. The destructive effect across the generations is obvious. It's bad for everyone, from grandfather to grandson. But is the new Burma Road the answer? Will it bring jobs and prosperity? Or will it bring the logging industry to destroy this forest even faster than opium cultivation? Remote villages, they want the new road because it will open their forest valleys to the outside world. They know good money can be made from tourism. All they need is a paying audience. One single backpacker from the west, spending just $50 for a few nights, could feed a family for two weeks. But it will take more than a remote mud track to get foreign travellers here. This is the Burma Road linking India and China today. In the wet season, it's impassable. For the rest of the year, it's an effective barrier to tourism and trade. In the coming months, the Indians will pave this road all the way to the top of the pass. Then it will be up to the Burmese to meet them from the other side. But when? So far, the Myanmar government won't say. Today, the border is permanently closed to outsiders. There is no way to cross, unless you're a minister from the Arunachal Pradesh government. Today, the Pangsu Pass expedition is to bring the issue, bring Burma Road into the limelight, so that the people, important people in both the countries, make a decision to open up this Burma Road very soon. Minister Senteng Sena is a tireless champion of the new road. He sees it as a source of economic salvation for the remote Indian province he governs. For just a few hours, the border has been opened and the troops wave the minister's convoy through. He's here today on a public relations tour in the hope that this small journey will lead to a giant step between Burma and India. This village is only 8km from India. It's the gateway to this vast wilderness. The minister does his best to talk up the new road, but with no sign of any Myanmar government officials, he's speaking mostly to his own team. But that can't happen until the Myanmar government agrees. And so far, its intentions remain a mystery. But despite the silence, progress is happening on the new road, although it's slow progress indeed. Beyond the wilderness of Pangsao, the muddy track drops out of the mountains into northern Myanmar, where work continues on the new Burma Road. Working with the most basic of equipment, these imported Chinese workers are expected to complete a project stretching more than 1,000km. They'll have to cross one of Asia's greatest rivers, the Irrawaddy, and countless secondary streams. Every monsoon, they turn to destructive torrents. This bridge was wrecked during the last wet season. But in the future, semi-trailers and tourist buses could be rattling across this old bridge every day. And it will give outsiders access to northern Myanmar's greatest living treasure, one of the largest wildlife reserves on Earth. Here, the road enters the Hukong Valley, a vast tiger reserve. At 21,750 square kilometres, it's almost as large as the state of Massachusetts and larger than all India's tiger parks put together. It's teeming with wildlife, most of it rarely seen. Only remote camera traps, set far from human habitation, reveal the richness of life here. This huge wilderness includes many small villages and several competing tribes of forest hunters. The Lisu people, part of the Kachin tribe, consider this territory their own. They hunt as they have done for centuries, armed with flintlock muskets and their instinctive understanding of the forest. These men are using animism, or nature worship, to divine the intention of the animals they want to hunt. This way, they can tell which animals are ready to die and which animals would prefer to live another day. Tigers are their main quarry. The Chinese, on Myanmar's eastern border, still crave tiger parts as medicine. It's a tradition that goes back thousands of years. The prices the Chinese pay are enormous. Powdered tiger bone sells for $1,500 US per pound, more than six months' income for these men. Like all the competing tribes here, the Lisu's hunger for income makes them virtual outlaws on their own land. The penalty for poaching tigers is high. Long prison sentences wait for them if they're caught. Nobody knows how many tigers are alive today. But they are alive, and the New Burma Road could lead directly to an increase in their numbers. The government of Myanmar wants tigers living and breeding in these forests. The potential they have to attract the foreign tourist dollar is enormous. And this road, being laboriously built through the heart of the reserve, is clearly the best way to get the tourists here. But in the meantime, this is the most efficient way to move through the park. Armed rangers conduct long elephant patrols through the trackless jungles in search of the tribal poachers. But with only a few rangers and elephants, finding a poacher, let alone a tiger, is next to impossible. This is ranger Chang Krisna. If the tigers are wiped out by the Lisu and the other forest dwellers, the park will lose much of its purpose. So as far as he's concerned, the sooner the New Burma Road gets here, the better. When it rains, traveling is difficult because of the numerous ditches and creeks everywhere. And they also make it difficult to send in and receive reports. I've never met a tiger, never been successful with camera traps. We only get reports from the people who have seen them. I've never seen a tiger myself. There's no doubt that the Lisu and the other forest tribes are threatening the future of the tigers that remain in this huge reserve. But what's more important, the survival of the tiger or the survival of the Lisu? To the Lisu hunters, there's no question. Today, they have no incentive to conserve the tiger or the jungles they know so well. If income came from tourism, it might be a different story. Instead of tracking for the kill, the Lisu could be guiding foreign tourists with digital cameras. It works well in the giant game reserves in Africa. Former poachers make the best rangers and tourist guides. If it works in Africa, why not in northern Myanmar? Less than a day's journey from the park, there's another of the natural wonders of northern Myanmar. This is where the rivers flow out of the mountains to form one of Asia's great waterways, the Irrawaddy. Alluvial gold has washed down this river for millennia. The gold this sand contains is minute. The only way to find it is to wash it out like this. To collect the tiny specks of gold, the people add mercury to their pans. The mercury attracts the gold, forming an alloy amalgam. The sand is washed away, and after hours of labour, they're left with this, a tiny lump of gold bound by mercury. The problem is that the excess mercury washes into the river, and this is the result. The mercury poisons fish, and sometimes the people who feed on them, all the way downstream. It's clearly a problem, but so far it's a long way from a major environmental disaster. And if alluvial mining is carefully controlled, there's no reason why it should become a disaster in the future. And what of the material reward? Well, for Yam Chalai, it's enormous. With gold selling at around US$600 an ounce, this is enough to buy food and clothing for his family for more than two months. In the long term, the Myanmar government will have to decide if it wants revenue from gold or revenue from a pristine river system. A few hours' drive to the east, the Irrawaddy becomes the river of life for millions living along its banks. And this man, and many like him, are an important key to what happens to this undamaged environment in the future. Balenjan is the head Buddhist monk of a village on the New Burma Road, and his concerns about what will happen to the river and the wilderness it supports are both simple and profound. There will, of course, be changes due to the opening of the roads. These will include changes in the ideas, opinions, and views of the people. I hold that people in the old days, notwithstanding what others may say about their low standard of living, but the people in former days suffered less from greed and anger, and therefore enjoyed peace of mind. Balenjan is a natural conservationist. He wants to preserve the old ways from a simpler time. So walking with him is like walking into the heart of a past still undamaged by modern industry. Like the footsteps of the Buddha himself, the pace here is still natural and restrained, just as it has been for almost 2,000 years. The 21st century and the New Burma Road is part of another universe far away. When I listen to the news, it seems at times there are problems in every part of the world. I've learned that the principal characteristic of the world today is the absence of peace. When I hear these things, I wish for peace, not only for my country, but for the whole world as well. So to monks all over Myanmar, this is what's important, the proper philosophical and social education of the next generation. Balenjan is a tireless conservationist, protecting his young charges from the polluting effect of greed. When these children truly understand the principles of Buddhism, the hope is that they'll have the inner strength to manage the changes the New Burma Road and its semi-trailers might bring. And most of that strength comes from community. One of the village elders has died, and everyone contributes to preparing food to honour his passing. The villagers prepare a sweet concoction of palm sugar sago for the celebration. Many small villages like this have a permanent monastery and several monks. The cohesion they bring to the communities under their care is enormous. The villagers wait anxiously for the monks to eat. If they enjoy the meal, it will be an auspicious event for the whole village. By showing charity to the monks, the villagers show their humility and generosity of spirit, both important steps on the road to enlightenment. Now it's the villagers' turn. This is village life as it has been for over 2,000 years. But just a few kilometres away, the stone and concrete artery connecting Myanmar with the teeming cities of China, India and Europe creeps ever closer. The ancient ways of sustainable living still dominate life along the river. A new house is needed, so everyone contributes. Using little more than bamboo and grass collected from the forest, the people build a new house in hours. Add the reed roof, and it's finished. It's a stunning contrast to the same process in the industrial world. The challenge for the people of Myanmar is to hold on to their sustainable ways and still give their children the economic advantages a new Burma road could bring. The problem is that a new road will ensure easy access to the vast reserve of valuable natural resources. And today, one of the easiest and most profitable ways to access ready cash is by selling timber. We're now 100 kilometres east of the Irrawaddy, not far from the Chinese border. These teak forests are high on the Chinese radar. With its own forests savagely depleted due to thousands of years of logging, the Chinese are now desperate for wood. The Chinese government banned logging in their own country in 1998 because of severe environmental damage. So now they look beyond their borders to countries like Myanmar to buy up all the legally felled timber they can get. But unscrupulous loggers are ready to supply the insatiable global appetite for timber. They pay for a legal clear felling. And this is the result. Profitable devastation. This is how forests have been cleared in Myanmar for centuries. And this is how they could still be cleared today. Elephant power is slow, but it works. Elephants are low impact. They don't need roads and remove selected timber without scarring the forest. Today the Asian elephant is in crisis because there's not enough traditional work like this. The villagers can't afford to feed them, so they're abandoned and returned to the semi-wild where they cause terrible damage to agriculture. Many of these intelligent animals are shot or poisoned as a result. But this could be an alternative. Imagine elephant power like this on a grand scale. Hundreds of elephants harvesting timber in a sustainable way. Could it be that this new road between India and China is the same road that brings elephants from neighbouring India and Thailand to work safely in the teak forests of Myanmar? The alternative to a sustainable future lies on the other side of this bridge where the Burma Road crosses into China. Welcome to the 21st century at its most consumptive and powerful. The difference between life on these streets and life in the countryside a few kilometres away in northern Myanmar is extraordinary. This small border town of Musay contains everything the 21st century has to offer. But it pales in significance when compared to Kunming, the geographical end of the original Burma Road, only five or six hours' drive further east. Capital of China's Yunnan province, it's home to 8 million people, about a fifth of Myanmar's entire population. The new Burma Road will clearly open the floodgates to the Chinese. But does it have to damage this gentle Buddhist society? Perhaps there is another path. Just a few hours' journey from the border lies the mystical plain of Buddhist shrines and temples known as Bagan. It's a symbolic doorway to the unpolluted rivers and undamaged wilderness of a country moving at a very different pace to China. Buddhism is still the most powerful social force at work in Myanmar. It's more than a philosophy or a religion. It's a practical way of living. For these brilliant artisans, it provides enlightened income. This is mass production at a Buddhist pace. And this practical Buddhist lifestyle could be Myanmar's greatest protection against destructive change that will pour into the country along the new Burma Road. The plain at Bagan already attracts foreign tourists in their thousands. But access is carefully limited, and tourist numbers are carefully controlled. They bring in valuable hard currency, but in a low-impact way that preserves this ancient environment. It works here. So could carefully controlled economic development work right along the new Burma Road? All levels of Myanmar society, from the ordinary workers to the most powerful political figures, believe this is where the true spirit of their country lies. This is the Great Golden Pagoda of Shwedagon. It's said that hair from the Buddha's head is buried beneath these acres of gold. For almost 90% of the population, this is a place of pilgrimage. For every devout person in Myanmar, the Great Pagoda is the embodiment of their heart, their Bama San Chin. So for the people of Myanmar, the Golden Pagoda is their greatest treasure. But it will take political will, and perhaps help from the outside world, to make sure the new Burma Road doesn't lead to the destruction of a treasure even more valuable. If it's managed properly, this new road could help provide a strong economic future without damaging one of the last great natural wilderness areas in Asia. The new Burma Road could open up Myanmar to sustainable economic development and bring in international aid to help protect Asia's last great river system that's still running clear and pollution-free. It could bring thousands of carefully guided tourists to the last great teak forests of Asia and to the giant game reserve where tigers and countless other endangered species still roam. It could give access to international wildlife agencies willing to spend millions to help Myanmar protect its natural wealth. A road is just a road. But it could also be a pathway to a secure and sustainable future for a new generation.