Letters from Burma by Aung San Suu Kyi.

The Beautiful and the Ugly

Years ago, during a lesson on the Japanese tea ceremony at Oxford, our teacher showed us colored slides of ceramic bowls fashioned by a master craftsman. The bowls had been photographed in the home of the master himself and the exquisite restraint of their beauty contrasted incongruously with the loud vulgarity of the modern carpet on which the master planted his feet and, consciously or unconsciously, feasted his eyes each day. Our teacher, an American who had lived and studied in Japan many years to qualify as a master of the tea ceremony, laughed at our baffled expres- sions and remarked that some people only knew what was beautiful, they did not know what was ugly.

Our teacher spoke chiefly of aesthetic matters. He contrasted the clashing colors and rampant designs of elaborate brocades with the elegance of plain, dark fabrics printed with simple geometric patterns or discreet emblems; he compared garish neon - lit city areas with cool gardens of moss covered rocks and old pines. The tea ceremony with its spirit of wakei seijaku illustrated the necessity of removing all that is ugly or disharmonious before reaching out to a beauty that is both visual and spiritual.

The fundamental principle of aesthetics which we learnt from our teacher, that to acquire truly good taste one has to be able to recognize both ugliness and beauty, is applicable to the whole range of human experience. It is important to understand both what should be rejected and what should be accepted. I personally know many Japanese who are as ready to reject what is ugly as to accept what is beautiful. But I cannot help thinking that such a sense of dis- crimination is lacking in those who seek to promote business with Burma these days.

What do these advocates of precipitate economic engagement see when they look at our country? Perhaps they merely see the picturesque scenery, the instinctive smiles with which Burmese generally greet visitors, the new hotels, the cheap labor and what appear to them as golden opportunities for making money. Perhaps they do not know of the poverty in the countryside, the hapless people whose homes have been razed to make way for big vulgar buildings, the bribery and corruption that is spreading like a cancerous growth, the lack of equity that makes the so - called open market economy very, very open to some and hardly ajar to others, the harsh and increasingly lawless actions taken by the authorities against those who seek democracy and human rights, the forced labor projects where men, women and children toil away without financial compensation under hard taskmasters in scenes reminiscent of the infamous railway of death of the Second World War. It is surprising that those who pride themselves on their shrewdness and keen eye for opportunity cannot discern the ugly symptoms of a system that is undermining the moral and intellectual fiber and, consequently, the economic potential of our nation. If businessmen do not care about the numbers of political prisoners in our country they should at least be concerned that the lack of an effective legal framework means there is no guarantee of fair business practice or, in cases of injustice, of reparation. If businessmen do not care that our standards of health and education are deteriorating, they should at least be concerned that the lack of a healthy, educated labor force will inevitably thwart sound economic development. If businessmen do not care that we have to struggle with the difficulties of a system that gives scant attention to the well - being of the people, they should at least be concerned that the lack of necessary infrastructure and an underpaid and thereby corrupt bureaucracy hampers quick, efficient transactions. If businessmen do not care that our workers are exposed to exploitation, they should at least be concerned that a dissatisfied labor force will eventually mean social unrest and economic instability.

To observe businessmen who come to Burma with the intention of enriching themselves is somewhat like watching passers - by in an orchard roughly stripping off blossoms for their fragile beauty, blind to the ugliness of despoiled branches, oblivious of the fact that by their action they are imperilling future fruitfulness and committing an injustice against the rightful owners of the trees. Among these despoilers are big Japanese companies. But they do not represent the best of Japan. I have met groups of Japanese, both young and old, anxious to find out for themselves the true state of affairs in our country, prepared to look straight at both the beautiful and the ugly. At the weekend public meetings that take place outside my gate, there are usually a number of Japanese sitting in the broiling sun and, although they cannot understand Burmese, paying close and courteous attention to all that is going on. And when, at the end of the meeting, many of them come up to me to say: ganbatte kudasai, I am strengthened by the knowledge that our struggle has the support of Japanese people in whom the sense of moral aesthetics is very much alive.