First things first. It's Burma, not Myanmar.
It was Burma before it was part of the British Empire. It was Burma when George Orwell—then Eric Blair, a police offer for the British Empire—learned enough about imperialism and "Big Brother" to fuel one of the most important writing careers of the 20th century.
It was Burma when it was overrun by the Japanese in 1942. It was Burma when it offered the fiercest resistance to Japanese occupation of any country in Asia during World War II, earning citations from U.S. Army Chief of Staff Dwight Eisenhower in 1945. It was Burma when it won its independence from Great Britain in 1948.
And it is Burma today, at least in the hearts of those citizens who've been rounded up, tortured and raped and seen family members killed by the State Law and Order Restoration Council and State Peace and Development Council—names Orwell would love—since 1988. It was Burma when the pro-democracy political party of Aung San Suu Kyi, Nobel Peace Prize recipient, won a landslide victory in the presidential election of 1990. It was still Burma when the junta nullified the results of that election and placed the elected president, Aung San Suu Kyi, under house arrest, then cracked down even harder on the long-suffering Burmese. It was Burma in November, 2000, when President Clinton awarded Aung San Suu Kyi the Medal of Freedom, the highest civilian honor offered by the U.S. government.
Yes, this much is known. What is not known is what will become of Burma now that the junta has cracked down on the biggest uprising since 1990. If history is any guide, nothing substantive will be done to help the victims of the junta in 2007. A few more Burmese refugees who've been living for years in Thai refugee camps have been resettled here. The White House has vowed to "tighten sanctions" against the junta. And the U.N. has issued a few resolutions of condemnation, and so on and so forth.
There's another reason why I can't take seriously any cries of indignation from the Bush White House, or from the editorial pages of the Wall Street Journal.
That's because military juntas are good for big business. During Dick Cheney's five years as Halliburton CEO, he courted clients in regimes that flagrantly violated human rights and damaged the environment, including regimes in Indonesia, Azerbaijan, Libya, Nigeria, China and (yes) Iraq and Iran.
But the most extreme case of "constructive engagement"—a euphemism U.S. businesses use to justify profiting from otherwise unrepentantly despotic regimes—was Halliburton's dealings with Burma. Though the U.S. government officially severed diplomatic ties with "Myanmar" and most U.S. corporations pulled up stakes and left, Halliburton stayed. Indeed,Cheney helped broker a deal for a major pipeline project in Myanmar about which a federal judge later noted, "the Halliburton venture already knew the project was benefiting from forced Burmese labor and 'numerous acts of violence' by Myanmar's military."
Even as late as December, 2000, the U.S. Defense Department announced that it would stop selling clothing imported from Myanmar at military bases. But Halliburton remained untroubled by any of this, still kept its office open in Rangoon, and did profitable business. (Chevron is there now, raking in the profits.)
To recap: Cheney profited from human slavery, without flinching or remorse. The American junta that he now leads will not lay a glove on Burma's junta.
People around the world rallied last Saturday to express solidarity with the Burmese people. The Foundation for the People of Burma offers many other ways to help. Please visit http://www.foundationburma.org if you are so moved.
