Number One: Ne Win's iron-fisted rule kept Bruma intact and independent—at the people's expense
Even upon the news of his death, few people in Burma dared speak Ne Win's name. On the streets of the crumbling capital of Rangoon, word of his passing at the age of 91 circulated in whispers. "The Old Man,'' "the Puppet Master,'' or simply "No. 1'' was finally gone. The ruling generals who keep the country under lock and key—the very men Ne Win nurtured and promoted to power—offered no comment and failed to attend his hastily arranged funeral. Ne Win, the man who brought Burma back from the brink of disintegration only to preside over its ruin, died friendless, though history will hardly forget him. "He was the most important and influential figure in Burma since its independence,'' says Professor David Steinberg of Georgetown University. "But he was a disaster for his country."
Ruthless, licentious and seemingly on the cusp of madness, Ne Win ruled the country from 1962 to 1988, wielding absolute power brutally, and sometimes bizarrely. Even after stepping down, his choke hold on the national psyche remained so unshakable that many Burmese believed nothing could change—not military rule, not the repression of democratic icon Aung San Suu Kyi and ethnic minorities, nor the country's ceaseless and abject poverty—until he no longer walked the earth. Yet when he finally expired, his passing seemed to portend little for long-suffering Burma. That's because Ne Win, in terms of influence, actually died last March, when the man who saw plots everywhere during his rule was himself suspected of plotting against the government. His son-in-law and three grandsons were subsequently convicted of treason. One of Asia's cruelest strongmen, feeble and broken, died while under house arrest.
Ne Win was a child of mixed Chinese-Burmese descent, the son of a tax surveyor and small businesswoman, although in his heyday he would sometimes dress as a Burmese king. The Japanese trained him to fight the British colonizers, and he chose to keep his nom de guerre, which meant Glorious Sun. (His real name was Shu Maung.) Fellow freedom fighter Aung San, father of Aung San Suu Kyi, became the leader of the young rebels. The two were very different. Aung San was moral, thoughtful and straightforward; Ne Win was cunning, calculating and passionate about drinking, gambling and women. Aung San became Burma's shining hope at the end of World War II, until he was assassinated in July 1947. Then it was Ne Win's turn. He rose to become Commander in Chief of the army and took power in 1962. He then devised his so-called "Burmese Way to Socialism,'' a political doctrine grounded in xenophobia, puritanism and superstition. The country was sealed off to foreigners, businesses were nationalized and most entertainment banned. Burma—once prosperous with abundant timber and gemstones, a literate workforce and booming rice exports—began to rot in tropical isolation.
The people suffered far more than their leader, of course. After he banned horse racing, Ne Win was to be seen wagering at the Ascot races in England. Likewise, while preaching moderation, he married seven times (including an Italian actress and a descendant of the last Burmese royal family). He eschewed public ceremony, and at times was a recluse. Some doubted his mental health. He regularly visited a psychiatrist in Vienna during the 1960s. To disarm his enemies he practiced yedaya chay, a Burmese system of charms and numerology. His belief that nine was an auspicious number, however, led to his demise. In 1987, he removed from circulation much of the nation's money supply to introduce new notes in the denominations of 45 and 90 kyats—because they were divisible by nine—thus wiping out the savings of millions. By March 1988, students were flooding the streets in protest. On July 23, 1988 Ne Win announced he was stepping down. More violence followed, but also elections in 1990, won by Suu Kyi's party. She had boldly told the military: "You don't have to listen to Ne Win.'' She was wrong: she has spent most of the years since 1989 under house arrest.
In his retirement, Ne Win still held sway with Burma's ruling military junta, but that relationship evaporated in March. Some say he drove around Rangoon at night, a haunted figure surveying the capital's empty streets and decrepit colonial buildings. His legacy is poverty, paranoia, fear of the outside world—and a lost half-century that will haunt Burma for many years to come.
