Quaker & Buddhists in Thai Forest

"I have trouble relating to these village people because I am from Bangkok,"
a Thai professional told me.  With more than a little anxiety, I blurted out,
"Then how about me?  I'm from the other side of the world!"

I didn't know what to expect from this workshop, my fourth time training in
Thailand but first time in the Northeast among villagers seeking to save
their beloved forest from loggers and government agricultural schemes.  Just
a week before we got there an important ally of the villagers had been
murdered.  How could I be useful in a culture and situation about which I
knew so little?

My fears were reduced by a blend of Buddhism and Quakerism.  My first
conversation with the monk who leads the struggle for the forest, Venerable
Phrachak Kuttacitto reminded me of my Quaker experience. "Don't worry about
what to do tomorrow!" he advised, "You will see in that situation what needs
to be done; you will understand how to be present in that moment."

We began the next day with a long walk through winding forest paths to a
cliff with a view and a resident family of animals which sounded like wolves.
The monks went first, following Venerable Prachak who is the abbot of this
monastery where the word "rustic" could have been invented. I walked along
encountering the Buddhist precept of "mindfulness": whenever my attention
strayed to anxiety about what I was going to do at the workshop, I tripped on
a root or my head hit a low-lying branch.

We sat in a semicircle at the cliff edge and Phra Prachak led us in
meditating.  The silence could have been a Quaker meeting.  He spoke from the
silence, about the forest as a lung of the earth, about our duty to live
peaceably as part of nature.  It was my turn.  My prayers had been answered. 
The anxiety had turned to curiosity

What will George DO? and then into confidence as I told stories: Australians
blockading ships carrying rainforest logs from Indonesia, Americans
blockading ships docking to pick up weapons for killing people in Bangladesh.

The workshop became a feast of case studies: to show they were not alone
(rainforest action), to inspire (small groups making a difference), to teach
strategic principles (Gandhi's coalitions advanced the interests of each
group in the coalition), to instill an Asian/Buddhist capacity for action
against tyranny (the Burmese prodemocracy movement and Nobel Peace
Prizewinning Aung San Suu Kyi), to point out the role of women in struggle
(the Pittston coal strike), to emphasize the importance and practicality of
nonviolent action.

The lesson from one story had immediate impact in the workshop itself.  After
telling about women and the coal strike, Thai women began to come to the
previously all male workshop.  By the end of the three days, two women were
playing leadership roles in the group activities.

Stories worked for everyone.  The drama caught the simple people who didn't
quite know why they were there, and the lessons were noted by the more
sophisticated.  Question/answer periods after stories underlined the lessons.
The INEB team was crucial in assessing the needs of the group as we went, so
I would know which case studies of nonviolent struggle would be most
relevant.  And translation by Supaporn and Boonchian was animated, bringing
out the full excitement of the cases.

Would they be able to form work groups to develop strategies?  The monk and
my colleagues were doubtful but willing to experiment.  Groups formed to
outline campaign steps, then report back to the whole.  Two of the four
showed some depth of understanding, and all four had managed (for the first
time for many participants) to do some planning.  This process led to a
breakthrough, a 'teachable moment'.

In reporting for one of the work groups a young man was perplexed when I
pointed out the group had started well but failed to plan a series of
actions.  His handsome face knitted in a scowl as he concentrated.  Finally,
he said in some hope of mercy, "Well, you see, I've never thought for myself
before.  I always did simply what the monk said to do."

We took some reflection time on that one, as a whole group, with others
acknowledging being in the same boat.  Phra Prachak said he would be pleased
if others thought for themselves, that it would make the whole campaign that
much stronger.  The openness seemed present: time for a technique to make it
practical!  I taught them these steps: (1) leader asks group for ideas, (2)
leader takes ideas and formulates a plan, (3) plan presented to the group for
feedback, (4) leader revises plan in light of feedback, (5) revised plan
presented for agreement.

Widespread interest greeted this technique, including from the monk. 
Throughout the workshop villagers had sat on the bamboo platform at a
distance from Phra Prachak, clumped and cuddled together on either side of
him, a largely empty space around him.  I asked them to symbolize their
commitment to trying this approach by closing the physical space between them
and their leader.  With giggles and wisecracks they did so, and the
atmosphere became quiet with anticipation.  "How does it feel to be sitting
where you are now sitting?" I asked.  They liked it, as did the monk.  He was
ready to pop the question which had haunted the workshop like a ghost: what
will you do when I am jailed (or killed)?

One week after the workshop Phra Prachak was given a two year suspended
sentence in one of the three cases pending against him.  A close colleague
had just been killed; his widow joined the forest monastery as a nun.  The
movement's direct action had included nonviolent forest patrols to reduce
illegal logging, demonstrations, a long march to the "entrance of the
Northeast," blocking a major highway; stakes were high.

The villagers, who by this time were double the number at the first session
of the workshop, plunged into the problem.  We role played four village
councils, used the five step process outlined above to generate a plan,
refine it, and gain agreement among the "villages".  The relief was evident
in the laughter and enjoyment of creativity when we got around to inventing a
name for nonviolent action in the local dialect.

At the closing circle which included traditional Northeast songs and dancing,
we did a go-round of observations.  For me the most striking was the number
of times participants said they were "proud" of what they had done.  From the
confident looks on their faces, they were also proud of themselves.
George Lakey