Western diplomats who live and work in this seemingly paranoid, hermit nation have adopted sneaky, cryptic and convoluted ways of doing their normal work, because Burma's Orwellian society permeates all aspects of life.

Inside one Western embassy, for example, a diplomat greeted me by saying, "Here is my namecard. But maybe it isn't a good idea for you to carry it on you, because they might find it."

The diplomat then agreed an interview could be set up later, but warned about telephoning the embassy to confirm the time and place.

"You know about the phones, don't you? The Burmese military intelligence listens to the telephone conversations, so be careful what you say."

Later, on the phone, the diplomat sounded like someone dodging a government wiretap.

"Meet me tomorrow, at 2 o'clock, at the same place where I saw you today," the diplomat suggested.

In other words, come back to the envoy's embassy for an interview.

A visiting American photographer, when told about the diplomat's cryptic remarks, replied, "It sounds like the way drug dealers talk to one another on the telephones back home."

The Burmese military regime frequently blasts American, British and other diplomats as puppets and spies of the US Central Intelligence Agency who are allegedly orchestrating the nation's destruction.

They charge that Washington, London and other "neo-colonialist" governments use diplomats, aid workers, journalists, students, tourists and others to subvert Burmese such as Nobel Peace Prize Winner Aung San Suu Kyi, who they claim is an "axe-handle" helping foreigners chop up Burma.

Paranoia strikes deep in this Southeast Asian nation. Most foreign correspondents are banned, making it difficult to enter Burma, gather news and exit safely.

The photographer, feeling jittery, said, "I changed taxis three times today before going back to my hotel, because I saw some military intelligence guys following me."

Later, the diplomat asked during an interview, "By the way, how did you get a visa to come to Burma?"

When told that a tourist visa was the only way in -- with "occupation" listed as a non-media job -- the envoy warned that plainclothes informants would still be watching.

The diplomat then taped the interview, apparently for accuracy, but refused to provide a copy of the cassette. "They might find the tape on you when you fly out from the airport."

To brainwash every person in the street, the government has erected huge red billboards listing, in English and Burmese, the "People's Desire."

The four desires, declared by the regime, are:

"Oppose those relying on external elements, acting as stooges, holding negative views. Oppose those trying to jeopardize stability of the State and progress of the nation. Oppose foreign nations interfering in internal affairs of the State. Crush all internal and external destructive elements as the common enemy."

One of the billboards, nestled amid trees, faces the US Embassy.

The continual pressure to inform on each other also creates terrible feelings of guilt among normal Burmese, which has created, in turn, a national feeling of shame, another diplomat said in an interview.

"The government uses informers, and has such a large military intelligence presence," the second diplomat said.

"So, Burmese are naturally very cautious about what they say to each other, because they don't know who is an informer.

"I wouldn't talk to you like this in a restaurant, because I don't know if the waiter is an informer. It's not like they're paid on a retainer. But they're under the same pressure as everyone else.

"The military intelligence can come in and say, 'Who was that you were talking to?' And if they don't tell, they can lock him away for 10 years.

"Burmese are ashamed of this. You've got to feel sympathy for an informer. Everyone knows somebody who has experienced this.

"It is a feeling of shame about themselves. I'm sure that's why there's such a high rate of alcoholism in this country."

The never-ending fear is infectious.

A United Nations official, dining in a restaurant and chatting about the military regime, suddenly halted in mid-sentence, leaned forward and whispered during an interview, "I don't like talking here. It might not be safe.

"I don't like him standing behind me," he added, gesturing with his eyes toward a nearby idle waiter. "I don't know who he is."

Whenever a visiting foreign correspondent on a tourist visa is seized and deported, the powerful Interior Ministry's daily newspaper, The New Light of Myanmar, trumpets the news -- complete with wanted-poster style layout.

The reporter's face is splashed on the front page, using an enlarged headshot from the person's visa photo, and details such as passport number, place of issue, date of birth, and fake "occupation" are also listed in bold typeface.

Several foreign reporters were recently nabbed and spotlighted this way, including a French journalist who reportedly hid "cassettes" in "his underwear."

As a result, how to smuggle news out of Burma is a favorite topic among correspondents.

To enable this story to be written, notes from these interviews were folded into tiny squares, and secreted inside large, nondescript items among innocuous luggage for the departure flight from Rangoon's International Airport.

Ironically, security forces at the airport who catch departing reporters were trained by America's Drug Enforcement Agency a few years ago, in special seminars to detect international tourists and others trying export cheap heroin from this opium-rich nation.

The Interior Ministry's newspaper, meanwhile, also tries to make Burmese fear Suu Kyi, whose party won a 1990 landslide election victory, which the military ignored.

Refusing to use her name, and instead calling her "the democracy princess" -- or "Mrs. Michael Aris" to stress she is married to a British citizen -- the paper recently warned, "The CIA got in cahoots with Michael Aris to use her.

"Michael Aris is pulling the strings, and his wife Mrs. Michael Aris is dancing accordingly, with proper time beat, to the dictates of CIA," it added.

A senior Western diplomat said the paranoia, internal surveillance, and complicated ways embassies and others have to circumvent eavesdropping was "as bad as the depths of the Cold War" in Eastern Europe, China, Vietnam, or the heavy censorship and other restrictions enforced in Singapore and Israel.

"We are lucky, all this is a nuisance, but the worst that can happen to us is we get kicked out," the senior diplomat said in an interview.

"It is psychological warfare" mostly aimed at Burmese. "We don't take it very seriously.

"The CIA is not the puppetmasters running the NLD," he added, referring to Suu Kyi's National League for Democracy party.

The regime has crippled her NLD during the past decade with mass arrests, lengthy imprisonments, and by prying away several defectors.

The government's continual harping on the CIA, meanwhile, may reflect the perception of some top leaders, the senior diplomat said.

"Some within the military, and some within the top leadership might believe it. The paranoids would be the hardliners."

The hardliners are "extremely nativist and xenophobic and still convinced they can return" to a self-sufficient utopia that never existed, he added.

Seemingly genuine tourists also warn about the possible doublespeak that even typical Burmese might express.

Esther Llamas, from Newport, Rhode Island, wrote, "As far as info one receives from the locals, be careful.

"Some of them simply feed you what you want to hear, but in fact are somehow involved with the SLORC," she added, referring to the State Law and Order Restoration Council which the government earlier titled itself.

"Open your eyes," added Llamas, who wrote in an "Americans' Comment Book," which is left open inside the US Embassy. The book bears a sign: "American citizens visiting Burma are welcome to examine and contribute."

One unsigned contributor, satirical about US investment in Burma, wrote, "Must go look for the McSlorc Burger tonite. Support your local junta."

After a recent shake-up, SLORC changed its name to the State Peace and Development Council, which now has some younger, albeit tougher hardliners, in power.

Shortly after The City Times left the country, a fresh wave of unidentified paranoia hit Burma.

The US State Department, on September 18, said, "The US government has received information that there may be a terrorist threat to US diplomatic and US business interests in Burma.

"The US Embassy in Rangoon, Burma, is taking steps to increase security" and "is advising US government personnel and American citizens and their families of the potential threat," it said.

"Americans should maintain a low profile, vary routes and times for all required travel, and treat mail from unfamiliar sources with suspicion."

Richard S. Ehrlich has a Master's Degree in Journalism from Columbia University, and is the co-author of the classic book of epistolary history, "HELLO MY BIG BIG HONEY!" -- Love Letters to Bangkok Bar Girls and Their Revealing Interviews.

His web page is located at http://www.oocities.org/asia_correspondent and he may be reached by email: animists *at* yahoo dot com

Fear and Loathing in Burma

by Richard S. Ehrlich

Changing Taxis

Who Is That Waiter?

Another Utopia