Townships

Burma’s first prime minister, U Nu, was a devout Buddhist. Buddhism was also an obvious tool of nation-building after independence since an estimated 90 per cent of the country is Buddhist. In this vein, one of U Nu’s abiding legacies was his convening of the Sixth Great Buddhist Synod. This council brought together 2,500 monastics from countries practising the Theravada branch of Buddhism, including Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, Sri Lanka and Thailand, to review and recite the scriptures written in the ancient Pali language. The synod was convened for two years, between 1954 and 1956, its conclusion coinciding with the 2,500th anniversary of the last Buddha’s demise.

This sizeable religious compound was built for the synod. Centred around a massive man-made cave, it comprised a pagoda, a library, a hospital and hostels for the monastics. The hostels, immediately to the west of the cave, are still used by Myanmar’s most venerable monks.

There was very little major construction taking place in the early independence period—a civil war was ravaging much of the country, even reaching the outskirts of Yangon, until it ebbed away in 1950. This makes the Kaba Aye complex’s scale all the more impressive. The Burmese parliament passed the relevant motion in 1951, stating that material improvements are “not sufficient to solve the problems of society and that measures for the spiritual and moral well-being of man could alone be effective”. Forty hectares of land were allocated to the project and 1 million pounds sterling, a stately sum for the cash-strapped country, were set aside for the construction. When the synod began in May 1954, 200,000 pilgrims gathered in the rain outside the cave to listen to the broadcast of the first day’s proceedings. Dignitaries from the participating countries sent their messages. Even two German-born monks attended the proceedings, perhaps the first non-Asians to do so in Buddhism’s long history.

Of the buildings within the complex, the pagoda remains the most used today. Best begin your exploration here, as taxi drivers will have no problem finding it. Just like at the Shwedagon Pagoda, it is advisable to keep your shoes in a plastic bag and inside a backpack before entering the pagoda, as you will likely exit from another side if you venture elsewhere within the complex.

When built in 1952, the Kaba Aye stupa was a complete break from the past: worshippers were able to enter the hollow pagoda. Usually stupas were solid, with the relics buried underneath them, just like at the Shwedagon Pagoda. The Kaba Aye Pagoda’s innovation was made possible by modern construction techniques and supporting steel structures. The principle was later replicated at the Botataung Pagoda and the Maha Wizaya Pagoda. Even the Shwedagon Pagoda’s duplicate in Naypyidaw, the Uppatasanti Pagoda, is hollow. At the Kaba Aye Pagoda, the relics inside an inner chamber consist of the remains of two of the Buddha’s disciples. Before being brought to Burma, they lay in London’s Victoria and Albert Museum. The Kaba Aye Pagoda’s dimensions are rather modest: it is 34 metres high and has about the same diameter. Leave the pagoda towards the north to reach the Maha Pasana Guha.

Despite being part of the complex, few visitors venture far enough north to find the most interesting building of the whole complex, fenced in and looking somewhat out of bounds. In front of it is an oval pond and manicured, hilly landscape. The Burmese word “Pitaka” derives from the Pali “Tripitaka”, which translates as “Three Baskets” and denotes the canons of Buddhist scriptures. U Nu wanted a library that would store the Pali texts from the respective Theravada Buddhist countries alongside other religious writings that would emerge from the synod. For this, he commissioned an American architect.

Benjamin Polk (1916–2001) had come to India in 1952 with his wife. He set up practice with fellow American Joseph Allen Stein (1912–2001) in New Delhi in 1955. (Stein had left the US due to the politically and culturally oppressive atmosphere of the McCarthy era.) The two men were later joined by Binoy Chatterjee and ran one of the largest architectural practices in Asia at the time. Together they built all over India. (Lodhi Road in New Delhi is sometimes referred to as “Steinabad” in recognition of the many buildings Stein designed there.) Polk also took assignments abroad, in Nepal for example, where he built the Royal Palace, and of course in post-independence Yangon.

Prime Minister U Nu asked Polk to incorporate a number of highly symbolic elements and numbers into the library design. Note for example the radial design (which follows stupa architecture, above all that of the Sanchi Stupa in Madhya Pradesh, India), the building’s three storeys (after the Three Baskets of Wisdom, or Tripitaka) and the numerous lotuses. The building was to last 2,500 years, until the end of the next Buddhist epoch—quite a brief for a Modernist Western architect! But happily Polk was no dogmatist, so to speak, and proved highly sensitive to the structure’s religious and spiritual components. The material of choice was reinforced concrete. He found that the medium served the spirit of modern Burma and would allow for the building to become an heir to the architectural practices of ancient Bagan (formerly known as “Pagan”). As he explained:

“The traditional Burmese pointed arch from Pagan would now partake of the nature of reinforced concrete with its capacity to resist tension in bending. It would incorporate the structural continuity of reinforced concrete tank design, but cantilevered. Thus the interior arches of the Library could be bound in the central position of the building like the stamen and pistil forms of a flower. Here the uniformly pyramidal silhouettes of Pagan would be punctuated with the cantilever, partially hidden, but giving the weight of the building a dynamic upward and outward thrust behind the encircling walls. Perhaps there is something ‘primitive’ here.”

The library was designed with three wings, containing a public library, an auditorium and a religious museum respectively. The central core of the building would be reserved for scholars and monks of the institute, as a sanctuary for study and meditation. An Indian site manager named Visvanath Jhanjee oversaw the construction process. It was to take five years and ran into its own set of problems. An ethnic Chinese carpenter foreman was murdered. The first site engineer had to be removed from the job after he was found to have a drinking problem. The “political vicissitudes” of the times also plagued U Nu’s pet project, as Ne Win replaced him as prime minister between 1958 and 1960. We therefore date the start of the construction between 1955 or 1956 (the latter being the end of the Sixth Synod) and 1960 or 1961, by which time U Nu had won back this prime ministerial post. U Nu was also present at the inauguration ceremony and served the architects the first two dishes of its banquet. A Soviet publication at the time credits the library to both Polk and Stein, although Polk makes no mention of his partner’s involvement in Yangon.

This building is magical. With its bold architectural design, it conveys the bygone optimism of a young Buddhist nation.

The convention of the synod was held here, a cave inside an artificially created rock. Its construction consumed 12,000 tons of cement and 380 tons of steel. The dimensions are equally impressive: the outside structure is 140 metres long and 110 metres wide. Inside, the assembly hall is 70 metres long and 40 metres wide. This created capacity for about 7,500 spectators to join the 2,500 monastics. Six entrances admitted people back then, signifying the Sixth Great Buddhist Synod. The cave was completed in 14 months, thanks in no small part to thousands of volunteer labourers.

Allegedly, U Nu was inspired to commission the cave as the centre of the synod following an earlier visit to the Satta Panni Cave in India, where the First Great Buddhist Synod was held the year after the Buddha’s passing. Today the cave is surrounded by trees. When the synod was held, however, it was almost entirely bare and its scale therefore easier to appreciate. The cave can be visited, the main entrance is on the southern side. It is still used for religious ceremonies. Given the precious little traffic around here, locals use the road surrounding the cave for their workout routines.

Near the Kaba Aye Pagoda complex, the Nawaday Cinema is an arresting example of SLORC-era architecture for the entertainment industry. The contrast with the handful of cinemas downtown—from the colonial Waziya to the 1950s and 1960s-built cinema/hotel, the Thamada, for example—could not be starker.

If the architectural feel of those theatres immediately evokes the colonial era, in the case of the Waziya; or the enterprising optimism of the 1950s for the Thamada, then the Nawaday Cinema’s isolated location, self-contained park, expansive dimensions and swaggering golden statue reflect an entirely different vision of the city and the built environment.

In that sense, the Nawaday Cinema was clearly a SLORC production. Its construction required the resettlement of more than 20,000 people that lived on the large complex, according to some sources. The cinema’s vast, rectilinear atrium and lobby would not look out of place in Naypyidaw. The trappings of government officialdom are clear in the grandiose statue out front too—a large replica of the Myanmar Academy Awards trophy. (On the other hand, the pediment crowning the building owes more to the city’s colonial heritage.) A private operator has been leasing the venue since 1997. A Chinese restaurant specialising in shark-fin soup also occupies the premises.

This major university campus was another gift from the Soviet Union. The Engineering College of Rangoon University moved here upon its completion in 1961. Prior to that, it was housed in the Engineering College, today’s University of Medicine-1 designed by Raglan Squire, which had only been finished a few years before in 1956. Interestingly, the biographies of both Squire (1912–2004) and the Soviet architect, Pavel Stenyushin (1904–1971), have significant parallels. Stenyushin and Squire were each involved in their countries’ reconstruction efforts after the Second World War. Squire planned the conversion of townhouses into apartments in London’s Belgravia, while Stenyushin worked for Mosarkhitektura and designed the city centre of Kursk, a Soviet city almost completely razed during the war. In Kursk, Stenyushin built two pompous buildings on the central Red Square, a hotel and the City Council; both have Neoclassical and more pure Stalinist architectural features. Before the war, Stenyushin also designed a massive “General’s House” on Moscow’s Leningrad Avenue. And just like Squire, he made a name for himself abroad. His Technological University in Yangon preceded later international assignments including the Polytechnic University in Kabul. Political systems and architectural styles divided these men, but their work took eerily parallel paths.

Both brought their aesthetics to Burma but had to adapt to local climatic realities. This led to some similarities in their work, for example the covered walkways and exterior-facing corridors. The main building of the Technological University features an imposing colonnade and large protruding roofs. This peculiar shape explains why some students called this the “university under the table”. Its slightly concave form harmonises with the circular plaza which it concludes towards the north, featuring a large water fountain at its centre. A series of courtyards and open staircases create an airy atmosphere inside the various buildings. Perforated walls perform a similar function. Plaques in Russian and Burmese are placed inside the central columns of the colonnade and commemorate the laying of the foundation stone by former Burmese President U Win Maung on 21 April 1958. Three years later, students moved to this location, rather far away from the centre. Some felt sentimental about the new setting. As one of them—U Myint Khine—recalls:

“On our first day, with renewed hope and vigour, and a feeling of great anticipation, I made my way through the huge, lofty columns of the main entrance. But, I must confess, in all honesty, that I felt a little bit disappointed. The architecture was, if anything, imposing. It was extremely functional, but to me, it was a bit too sterile.

The old Faculty of Engineering buildings we left behind were somewhat airy and light in comparison. The Burmese murals decorating the various façades were a joy to behold during our classroom breaks. The whole aspect was aesthetically very pleasing. All this flashed through my mind as I entered [Rangoon Institute of Technology], but I quickly put it out of my system. Whether pleasing in appearance or not, as I remarked before, it was still functional and solidly designed. If this is the ‘altar’ where I must gain my final ‘rites of passage’ into the world of Engineering, so be it. I will grow to love it and indeed I truly did in the end.”

The Soviet Union was among the first countries to recognise independent Burma. But things got off to a rocky start as the Soviets backed communist anti-regime forces in their fight against the government in Yangon. Embassies in both countries only opened in 1951. By 1955, relations had warmed considerably. Prime Minister U Nu went on a two-week tour of the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, signing trade deals and technical cooperation agreements. Burma pledged to support Soviet foreign policy, including backing Communist Chinese membership of the UN (at that time, Taiwan still represented China there). A high-level Soviet delegation visited Burma in 1955 and Rangoon’s population was told to line the streets and cheer the motorcade. It was during this visit that the agreement to build the Rangoon Institute of Technology was agreed in principle. Three years later, on Khrushchev’s next visit, it was officially presented as a gift of the Soviet people.

Burma’s embrace of the Soviet Union was pragmatic. It was finding it difficult to sell large quantities of surplus rice on the world markets, and the Soviet Union was an important buyer—although payment was often in kind. US intelligence was worried that “Communist trade, Communist experts and Communist-designed and erected buildings could be followed by Communist arms, Communist ideas, and ultimately, Communist control of this country”. When Ne Win took over power in a military coup in 1962, the socialist period of Burmese post-independence history dawned. But in its Ne Win vintage, this socialism took the country on an inward-looking and isolationist path.