Burma's Long Road
What happens to people after decades of censorship?
January / February 2004
Leif Utne Utne magazine
Self-censorship in the mainstream media has become increasingly
commonplace since 9/11. As CBS anchor Dan Rather told a BBC-TV
interviewer in May 2002, the hyperpatriotic mood in the United
States 'keeps journalists from asking the toughest of the tough
questions.'
Mainstream American journalists may justify their behavior as a
matter of upholding 'professional standards' or not wanting to look
unpatriotic. But as anyone comparing foreign news coverage with the
U.S. media's kid-glove treatment of the Bush administration can
tell you, on issue after issue, from the Iraq war to Enron to
global climate change, the trend toward self-censorship in this
country is obvious, and troubling.
For a chilling view of where that path can lead a society, look
at Burma, also knows as Myanmar.
Government censors in this Southeast Asian country actually
don't have much work to do, reports Tony Broadmoor in Third
World Resurgence (July/Aug. 2003). After years of brutal
repression, Burmese writers and publishers know where the lines are
drawn and how to avoid crossing them. For them, self-censorship is
not just about upholding professional standards; it is often the
only thing protecting them from government harassment or
imprisonment.
'I've never tried to publish political books,' one Rangoon-based
publishing house owner tells Broadmoor. And if someone wrote
something sensitive, he says, he wouldn't take it to the Press
Scrutiny Board, Burma's official censorship body, which must give
its blessing to all books sold in the country. Instead of pushing
the boundaries, publishers focus on books they know the PSB is
likely to approve -- mostly translations of English-language
classics like Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter and
the novels of Ernest Hemingway. Typically it takes six months for
the PSB to approve a book, though it can take years for the agency
to approve more controversial works, and some books never see print
at all.
Anything that smacks even remotely of politics will have a hard
time, writes Broadmoor. 'The writings of Niccolo Machiavelli did
not make it onto shelves, while Alexis de Tocqueville's
Democracy in America took six long years to pass the
PSB.'