The opulence was filmed in Than Shwe's 'court' in July, and had already been publicised by a Burmese magazine, The Irrawaddy, as "Burma's 'Royal' Wedding".

In the 1990s, the Hong Kong news weekly Asiaweek sometimes ran colourful yarns about the royal delusions of former Burmese strongman General Ne Win and Senior General Saw Maung, Than Shwe's predecessor. Not long before his removal in a 'palace' coup in April 1992, it was said Saw Maung threw a fit on a golf course, proclaiming himself a reincarnation of an ancient Burmese warrior king as he chased his minions with a golf club. Burma's last true king, Thibaw, was shipped off to an ignominious exile by the British in 1885, and died in Ratnagiri, India, in 1916. His brave and more astute queen, Suphayu Lat, was rudely nicknamed 'Soup Plate' by the thuggish incoming colonials.

Although I often filed on Burma for Asiaweek, which in 2001 predeceased Ne Win, I did not have much to do with its Burma royalty stories. I was familiar with the Burmese rumour mill, having heard countless exotic anecdotes about Ne Win flying three times around Shwedagon Pagoda in an aircraft dressed as a king riding a wooden horse, and so forth. It might strain credulity to relate more. Ne Win included a minor royal in his relentless march through wives, and was warm butter in the presence of Britain's Princess Alexandra. He certainly had a taste for the trappings of royalty, particularly jewels.

Were the images of Than Shwe's family vacuuming up endless gifts of jewels and cash really so surprising? To be fair, the society weddings I used to glimpse in Rangoon's Strand and Inya Lake hotels in the 1980s were spectacular affairs totally at odds with the poverty outside.  

It was not the vulgarity of the recent Than Shwe display that struck me, nor any concern that the royal delusion stories should have been taken more seriously earlier. It was confirmation of something else. How could anybody viewing this seriously believe the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC), which Than Shwe heads, has any higher motive on its agenda than self enrichment and self perpetuation? This was an unprecedented glimpse of Burma's current elite at ease.

The international community is being asked to suspend disbelief and accept that the SPDC is seriously embarked upon a roadmap to democracy. In October, foreign journalists were allowed to visit in some of the largest numbers seen since the ignored general election of May 1990. They arrived to observe the reconvening of the National Convention, the junta-appointed body supposedly drafting Burma's constitution.

Nobody should hold their breath. This body was first convened in 1993. When I dropped by in April 1994, I found most delegates (at least those not reading pornographic Japanese cartoons) fast asleep in the soporific environment. Nobody was snoring more loudly than the senior officers in the front row led by General Myo Nyunt. He was charged with convening the National Constitution and was Minister of Religious Affairs. Lacking formal education, he had been Rangoon commander in 1988 when pro-democracy demonstrations were bloodily suppressed.   

As far as the constitution is concerned, the generals have been asleep on duty ever since. The constitution was essentially written in the early 1990s to perpetuate a dominant military role in national politics. Than Shwe will not become king of Burma; health permitting, he may well be its first president under the new system.

Ne Win performed an almost identical manoeuvre in the 1970s, but a mere 12 years after seizing power. Than Shwe's junta has just marked its 18th year in power in its second incarnation. There is still no new constitution, nor any other sign of political progress in sight.

The generals fret about unfortunate experiences with both previous constitutions, one bequeathed by the departing British in 1948, and the other by Ne Win's Revolutionary Council. They never explain why they are so loath to learn from experience, and march on briskly.  

Taking an optimistic view of the current roadmap to democracy, the constitution 'drafting' will not be completed until next year. It will then go to national referendum for approval. That process could well take another year, taking us to 2008. There might then be a new framework in place for staging national elections, which could also take another year. This might finally give rise to a new military-dominated government in 2009, in which key portfolios are still held by, at the very least, retired military men.  

Of the four most senior generals from the State Law and Order Restoration Council founded in September 1988, only Than Shwe survives in power. Saw Maung and Tin Oo are dead. Khin Nyunt lives under house arrest, as does Than Shwe's most vocal critic, Aung San Suu Kyi, a Nobel peace laureate and secretary-general of the National League for Democracy.

Suu Kyi's party plays no part in the National Convention despite winning a landslide victory in the 1990 election. Neither Khin Nyunt nor Suu Kyi is likely to be released before 2009 if the 'fast track' scenario outlined here plays out.

Meanwhile reports from Manila indicated that Than Shwe would again miss the annual leaders' summit of Asean scheduled for this week because he is "preoccupied with Burma's national convention for the drafting of a new constitution". 

Although the Asean meeting has been postponed until early next year, the excuse for his absence will probably remain unchanged. Anyone pondering Than Shwe's sincerity in all this, or indeed his commitment to the greater national interest, should just run the wedding tapes.

Dominic Faulder was a special correspondent for Asiaweek until 2001, and contributed this article to the December issue of The Irrawaddy.

Dominic Faulder

Bangkok