An important exhibition but perhaps one as easily overlooked as the country which forms its focus, Burma to Myanmar was shown at the British Museum, 2 November 2023 – 11 February 2024. In addition to revealing the complexity and diversity of this relatively young nation (as an introductory panel reminded us, its current outline was only formed in 1948 upon independence), the exhibition might also be of interest to MEG members for its incorporation of objects borrowed from regional museum collections (including Brighton Museum & Art Gallery and Calderdale Museums) and, perhaps most importantly, for the extent to which it engaged with the politics of provenance.

Traditionally, exhibitions about the material culture of Myanmar have focused on the forms of decorative art – lacquerware, elite textiles and religious statuary – associated with the country’s majority ethnic and religious identity: Burman Buddhist. This focus has not only obscured a diversity of faiths and cultural practices, it has also risked further amplifying the political strategy of ‘Burmanisation’ pursued by an oppressive governmental regime, which has insisted on unity at all costs. In contrast Burma to Myanmar foregrounds complexity from the outset: a key object positioned near the exhibition’s start was a striking late 19th century gilded lacquerware box. Designed for storing a Qur’an, the box provides tangible evidence of the historic integration of Muslims in Burma, an important context against which to set the recent ‘othering’ of Muslims, including Myanmar’s Rohingya community.

Another important exhibition subtext is Britain’s own relationship with Burma. Prominently displayed in the exhibition’s opening section is a manuscript written on rolled gold sent from King Alaungpaya, founder of the last Burmese dynasty, to King George II, as one head of state to another, in 1756. The indifference shown by the British monarch at this time (no reply was sent), would later become rapacious interest as the extent of Burma’s natural resources was revealed. The exploitation of these during the colonial era was mirrored by the appropriation and demarcation of land and a large handmade map of part of Shan state is a poignant reminder of how natural boundaries became political divisions; the map likely to have been “produced as a guide for when Britain, Shan and Chinese authorities worked together to determine borders in the late 1880s”. With the removal of the Burmese monarchy, differences in imposed forms of governance (from direct rule in the central areas to indirect rule in the borderlands), the introduction of immigrant labour and clumsy categorisation of ethnic communities, British colonial rule in Burma is shown to have left a legacy of political toxicity which continues to cast a long shadow.

The British Museum is refreshingly frank about the impact of British intervention in Burma, including its implications for cultural heritage. Visitors are told, for example, how During the First Anglo-Burman War, there was substantial looting by British soldiers’. This frankness includes a welcome transparency regarding object provenance and exhibit labels provide clear information about how objects were acquired and through whose hands they passed before joining a museum collection. A particular example, which speaks to the political stakes inherent in repatriation, is a betel box in the shape of the sacred karaweik bird. Once part of the royal family’s regalia, it was seized by the British during the Third Anglo-Burman War in 1885 and transferred to the V&A. In 1964 much of this looted regalia was returned at the request of President Ne Win’s government; the exception being the box, which was – the label told us – ‘donated to the Victoria and Albert Museum as a thank you for its custodianship’. As the label went on to observe, ‘The return of the regalia connected Myanmar’s royal court with the military regime – a form of legitimisation Ne Win was keen to promote’.

Given how little-known the country is, this first major exhibition worked hard to challenge simplistic media representations. Characterised as a place of political isolation and victimhood, exhibits revealed how dynamic cross-cultural interactions were built on historic trade routes: a military court robe, for example, echoed the form of Thai theatrical costumes, and the gold and silver embroidery it carried was a technique adapted from Indian textiles. In covering the period from the 16th to the 21st century, the exhibition had to cover a lot of ground, including the impacts of World War II, the introduction of Independence from 1948 and of military rule from 1962, and may have seemed dizzying to those visitors unfamiliar with the broad contours of the country’s history and politics. Recent political developments were also acknowledged in a moving piece of film footage created by the organisation 100 Projectors, which documented acts taken by artist-activists in the context of popular resistance to the resumption of military control in 2021. 

As well as covering broad social, cultural and political terrains, the exhibition incorporated a multiplicity of media. Fine lacquerware and elite textiles were represented but so, too, were objects made for colonial markets, early graphic works and artworks, including a painted self-portrait incorporated into a 1974 performance piece by artist Maung Theid Dhi (performance art being better able to evade government censorship, although not completely: visitors were told that the artist was jailed after exhibiting the work for a second time in 1976). The exhibition may have been accused of trying to do too much, but its failures were a proactive response to Britain’s continuing disinterest in the fates of its former colony; many of the problems of which can be traced back to its own interventions. Burma to Myanmar was an important reminder of the role that museums can and should play in bringing complexity and nuance to public understanding of global politics, including cultural institutions’ complicity in these.