Conflict in Thailand
This was written for the Church Times in September 2006.
It was something of a coincidence that a trip to Thailand for an International Consultation on Conflict should end with a military coup. The Micah network had chosen Chiang Mai as a strategic and peaceful location for its large gathering of delegates from 52 countries. The consultation was open and stimulating, enhanced by free access to the global media. Two weeks later, those of us who were now in Bangkok saw tanks and guns on the streets and experienced a total blackout of all foreign television and broadcasting channels. It was a striking contrast. (It also seemed an extreme way to register dissatisfaction with a Prime Minister. What was wrong, I wondered, with a parliamentary vote of ‘no confidence’ and a general election?)
This experience of contrasts recurred throughout my time in Thailand. In the consultation, it had been there in the difference of perspectives between delegates from the South, and those from Europe, Australasia and America. We were fellow and sister Christians but our experiences of conflict differed hugely. Conflict in many African countries meant genocide, brutality and millions dead. Conflict in most ‘first world’ contexts meant irritation with governments or frustration at the limited outlook of churches. The Thai delegation was glad that their way of dealing with conflict had become the way of democracy and the ballot box. It is sad that General Sonthi Booyaratglin returned it to what the Jakarta Post called a ‘power grab through the use of force.’
After the consultation I travelled east to Mukdahan, near the border with Laos. We were visiting Siam Care, an organisation which offers home-based work amongst families affected by HIV/Aids. In fact, its medical and educational support to disadvantaged people within local communities has become a model adopted across many other countries. Here, I was to find another contrast. Sian Care’s foundation, aims and direction are explicitly Christian, yet the majority of its staff are Buddhist. Since they were also the ones visiting the families and offering the care, I wondered how this might work out without some sort of conflict.
We soon found out. The young Thai woman who had organised our visit explained we began the day with staff prayers. I was to give a Bible study: then there would be worship, and intercession. She was a Buddhist, but this was a key part of her week. All the staff were present, expressing delight that they had more Christians among them who would share a deeper knowledge of the Bible passages.
If this was a surprise there were bigger ones to come. Our Buddhist host had lined up visits to people who, in her view, needed prayer. A little girl, infected from birth with HIV, now brought up by grandfather, was afraid of leaving him and going to hospital; an elderly man with a rapidly deteriorating blood condition was terrified at the prospect of a leg amputation; a man recovering from cancer surgery on his large intestine wanted to find God and know forgiveness. Our host was convinced that Christians should pray with them. It didn’t matter that we spoke only English. She would translate.
I have always known that Christ is the Prince of Peace, but experiences in Thailand reinforced that in a new way. The humility of spirit which allows a Jesus-believing Buddhist to create space for Christ’s love to reach others is a humility already rooted in God’s grace. And it is this grace, in contrast to assertive displays of military might, that lays the foundation for resolving conflict, for grace alone allows flawed people to open up truth and give peace a chance.
Cambridge
Sept 2006
