Myanmar: the new Asian investment frontier

MasterCard and Visa have already entered the country, together with multinationals such as Nestle, CocaCola, Uniliver, Total and Suzuki.

When Nobel prize laureate Aung San Suu Kyi arrived at the Italian ministry of foreign affairs this week after visiting the Pope, she walked into the room with six little roses in her hair and many question marks over the future of her country of 60m inhabitants. She always calls it by the pre-regime name of Burma, crystallising in five letters her role as opposition leader and her 15 years spent under house arrest.

Only a week before, a delegation of the country’s officials that included foreign minister Wunna Maung Lwin were in the same building to illustrate the economic reforms aimed at attracting much-needed foreign investments into the nation they instead called with the official name of Myanmar.

The different choice of name was echoed in the western suits and ties of the government representatives, followed by the traditional Burmese dress worn by Ms Suu Kyi. “It is easier to change dress than mindset,” she said, stressing that “there are no economic reforms without political reforms”.

So, what’s for foreign investors out there? The pile of papers illustrating the economic measures enacted since 2011 contained the CVs of the delegation, with no intention to hide their links to the military.

Nobody seems to be too bothered either by the call by international observers in the room to link reforms with a fully democratic process. According to a representative of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, a member of the delegation defined The Lady – Ms Su Kyi - “an inspiration”.

The source of the inspiration, however, warned the international community over the danger of overestimating the democratic opening the country is experiencing and urged to call on the  Myanmar government to change the constitution, which prevents her from running for president as a mother of foreign children. Currently, 25 per cent of seats in Parliament are reserved for the military.

For now, the government has set a target of almost 9 per cent growth by next year, saying it will prioritise poverty reduction, industrialisation, the development of the energy sector, telecommunications, education and the health sector.

MasterCard and Visa have already entered the country, together with multinationals such as Nestle, CocaCola, Uniliver, Total and Suzuki.

Italian energy giant ENI was among the winners of several onshore energy blocks and is already considering  Myanmar  its “new Asian frontier”, thanks to its strategic position and richness in raw materials, especially natural gas.  

“There have been only 150 explorations in the country so far, as much as in the  US  every two days,” ENI ‘s chief executive Paolo Scaroni said during the conference.

“Half of the population has no electricity and there is no economic development without it. Now, after decades of isolation,  Myanmar  could become a bridge between Southern Asia, the Asiatic Southern East and  China,” he added.

The main challenges however relate to uncertainty over future political stability and the possibility to proceed with the creation of a safe business environment. Doubts that have only began to ease following the endorsement in 2011 of the United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights.

Myanmar delegation presented its packet of certainties offering a five-year tax holiday, the same rate of income tax between foreigners and  Myanmar  citizens, no taxes on imported machinery or raw material. The government also ticked the box of no nationalisations or expropriations, together with the right to repatriation.

Enough for the multinationals that have already expanded into Myanmar, while the challenges are still significant for smaller enterprises and range from an undeveloped banking system and a lack of capital market, to poor infrastructures and an inadequate insurance system.

In the words of the Myanmar delegation, this is not a nation ready-made for investors, but a bet on the future. A bet that UK investors are already supporting: if China tops the ranking, Britain is the fifth foreign investor and the first Western country, with twenty times the enterprises of the second foreign investor France and some 7 per cent slice of the total cake. 

As more stakeholders take the first steps into post-sanctions Myanmar, the focus ahead of the 2015 elections is not so much if the name, but if the mindset will change and who will benefit most from the forecast economic growth. 

 

Aung San Suu Kyi during a press conference in Italy. Photo: Getty

Sara Perria is the Assistant Editor for Banking and Payments, VRL Financial News

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The dog at the end of the lead may be small, but in fact what I’m walking is a hound of love

There is a new, hairy face in the Hovel.

There is a new, hairy face in the Hovel. I seem to have become a temporary co-owner of an enthusiastic Chorkie. A Chorkie, in case you’re not quite up to speed with your canine crossbreeds, is a mixture of a chihuahua and a Yorkshire Terrier, and while my friend K— busies herself elsewhere I am looking after this hound.

This falls squarely into the category of Things I Never Thought I’d Do. I’m a cat person, taking my cue from their idleness, cruelty and beauty. Dogs, with their loyalty, their enthusiasm and their barking, are all a little too much for me, even after the first drink of the day. But the dog is here, and I am in loco parentis, and it is up to me to make sure that she is looked after and entertained, and that there is no repetition of the unfortunate accident that occurred outside my housemate’s room, and which needed several tissues and a little poo baggie to make good.

As it is, the dog thinks I am the bee’s knees. To give you an idea of how beeskneesian it finds me, it is licking my feet as I write. “All right,” I feel like saying to her, “you don’t have to go that far.”

But it’s quite nice to be worshipped like this, I have decided. She has also fallen in love with the Hovel, and literally writhes with delight at the stinky cushions on the sofa. Named after Trude Fleischmann, the lesbian erotic photographer of the Twenties, Thirties and Forties, she has decided, with admirable open-mindedness, that I am the Leader of the Pack. When I take the lead, K— gets a little vexed.

“She’s walking on a loose lead, with you,” K— says. “She never does that when I’m walking her.” I don’t even know what that means, until I have a think and work it out.

“She’s also walking to heel with you,” K— adds, and once again I have to join a couple of mental dots before the mists part. It would appear that when it comes to dogs, I have a natural competence and authority, qualities I had never, not even in my most deranged flights of self-love, considered myself to possess in any measurable quantity at all.

And golly, does having a dog change the relationship the British urban flâneur has with the rest of society. The British, especially those living south of Watford, and above all those in London, do not recognise other people’s existence unless they want to buy something off them or stop them standing on the left of the sodding escalator, you idiot. This all changes when you have a dog with you. You are now fair game for any dog-fancier to come up to you and ask the most personal questions about the dog’s history and genealogy. They don’t even have to have a dog of their own; but if you do, you are obliged by law to stop and exchange dog facts.

My knowledge of dog facts is scant, extending not much further beyond them having a leg at each corner and chasing squirrels, so I leave the talking to K—, who, being a friendly sort who could probably talk dog all day long if pressed, is quite happy to do that. I look meanwhile in a kind of blank wonder at whichever brand of dog we’ve just encountered, and marvel not only at the incredible diversity of dog that abounds in the world, but at a realisation that had hitherto escaped me: almost half of London seems to have one.

And here’s the really interesting thing. When I have the leash, the city looks at me another way. And, specifically, the young women of the city. Having reached the age when one ceases to be visible to any member of the opposite sex under 30, I find, all of a sudden, that I exist again. Women of improbable beauty look at Trude, who looks far more Yorkie than chihuahua, apart from when she does that thing with the ears, and then look at me, and smile unguardedly and unironically, signalling to me that they have decided I am a Good Thing and would, were their schedules not preventing them, like to chat and get to know me and the dog a bit better.

I wonder at first if I am imagining this. I mention it to K—.

“Oh yes,” she says, “it’s a thing. My friend P-J regularly borrows her when he wants to get laid. He reckons he’s had about 12 shags thanks to her in the last six months. The problems only arise when they come back again and notice the dog isn’t there.”

I do the maths. Twelve in six months! That’s one a fortnight. An idea begins to form in my mind. I suppose you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to work out what it is. But no. I couldn’t. Could I?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism