At first this country struck me as having a comparatively genuine devotion to the religion. Monks on their alms rounds looked like they were doing more than going through the motions. Their eyes were lowered in a way that suggested seriousness and purpose, as though they were truly trying to reconcile yesterday’s teachings with today’s realities.
Opportunities to practice faith appeared to be built in to daily routines. Most homes feature altars in a prominent niche that practically calls out for people to stop and pray. In many neighborhoods and towns, a loudspeaker chants mantras in an endless loop. Pairs or trios of pink-robed, shaven-headed nuns circulate through neighborhoods. They stop outside small businesses, whose owners drop either money or uncooked rice into the nuns’ bowls. Think trick or treat, 365 days a year.
For about a week last month, the nearby street market transformed itself at night into a religious revival meeting. Posters advertising talks by well-known monks generated a huge turnout of people who sat on a five-block-long string of carpets that replaced vendors’ stands every evening. Projectors and screens set up at frequent intervals ensured that the entire river of listeners could see the monks’ faces as they preached from a stage at the head of the street.
And now this week clusters of smiling faithful have emerged everywhere, soliciting contributions from passersby. The silver bowls they shake contain not just donations but also a few beads or pebbles to generate sounds that Myanmar’s all-paper currency cannot. I’m reminded of my youth in Chicago, when volunteers for the Salvation Army rang bells outside shopping areas.
Yet lately I hear an undercurrent of hostility in the Buddhist speechifying and fundraising. The monks’ sermons last month sounded to my uncomprehending ear more like halftime peptalks than dharma lessons. The clatter of the pebbles in the bowls seems to say, “Donate or else.” I may be imagining or exaggerating this tone, but there is no denying that the dominant faith in Myanmar has a paranoia problem. Many of its adherents feel that Buddhism is under threat.
Population estimates suggest that this perception doesn’t make logical sense—most guesses put the percentage of Buddhists at close to 90. But in a multi-ethnic country where good information is hard to get, it doesn’t take much stoking to ignite followers. Rumors, hate speech, and growing social media usage have all led to interreligious violence this past year. Hundreds of people have been killed here, most of them Muslim.
At bottom, the issue probably isn’t really about religion, but rather about power, fear, immigration, land ownership, and similar quagmires. Western governments wish the whole problem would go away, preferring instead to cheer for the country’s positive political changes as they look for reasons to encourage investment.
Aung San Suu Kyi also dodges the subject at every opportunity, falling back on vague references to “rule of law,” which everyone knows are a cover for “Don’t make me commit on this hot topic while I’m running for office.”
Unfortunately, this conflict will stick around for a while. Though it was less obvious when the government was more repressive, these passions have simmered longer than anyone can remember. Moderates are few and far between. Solutions will first require progress on many other fronts—cronyism, citizenship, poverty, and press freedom, for starters.
Meanwhile, I’ll continue to smile at the fundraisers on the street, and hope that they smile back.
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