---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Tue, 21 Apr 1998 10:29:36 +0530
From: Paul Gonsalves <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
To: GreenTravel <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>, 0Peter <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Subject: conscientious projectors Nation
Tourists with an eye on human rights
can make a difference
William F. Schulz
The Nation magazine, October 6, 1997
"Nothing happens in Burma," wrote Paul Theroux in his travel memoir The
Great Railway Bazaar, "but then nothing is expected to happen." Nothing,
that is, except the arrest of thousands of pro-democracy dissidents; the use
of dog kennels as prison cells and the forced labor and relocation of more
than 100,000 members of ethnic minorities. But then how would visitors know
all that, preoccupied as they are with the sights of Mandalay and Yangon?
And if they did, should they give revenue and legitimacy to a government
that perpetrates such atrocities?
The decision as to whether to spend tourist time and money in a country like
Burma, now Myanmar, is a complex one, made more confusing by the terms in
which the argument is usually joined. Does economic growth fueled by tourism
really improve the chances of human rights being respected? In some cases,
like Singapore, a booming economy and tourist trade has not been enough to
guarantee respect for individual liberty. Will boycotting a country harm
already impoverished workers more than it will corporate or government
titans? Or are the short term economic penalties more than offset by the
ultimate benefits of change?
For many people who care about human rights the choice turns on the advice
of local activists. In the case of Myanmar, the repressive government has
made the attraction of tourists a major element in its push for
international respectability; consequently, the leader of the pro-democracy
movement there, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, has discouraged visitors from making
the journey. Though Amnesty International takes no position on boycotts, I
personally would boycott Myanmar because Aung San Suu Kyi asks that we do
so. In other countries with abysmal human rights records, however, local
rights leaders encourage tourism not just for the capital it introduces to
the economy but because foreign eyes offer a measure of protection and an
opportunity to get their story out. Just as responsible eco-tourism has
generated enthusiastic support for the environmental movement, so human
rights conscious travel can make a positive contribution to the struggle for
a civil world.
Then, too, if travelers were to avoid every country that violates somebody's
rights, itineraries would be remarkably short. Only one country-Iceland-has
never been cited for a serious human rights abuse. And while the Blue Lagoon
and Thingvellir are magnificent sites, their novelty, to say nothing of
their tranquillity, would quickly disappear if the world' s tourists were to
limit themselves to that politically pristine place.
So how are we to decide whether to visit a nation? It may be appropriate to
avoid a country that is the object of international opprobrium, as was
apartheid-era South Africa, particularly if a travel boycott is part of a
larger package of pressure tactics designed to isolate a government or
change its behavior. But if one visits a repressive state like China or
Indonesia, Peru or Syria, it is possible to make the trip rewarding both
personally and politically.
The key factor is accessibility. Will you have the opportunity to be in
touch with people and events on the ground- those whose lives are directly
affected by policies and politics- or will you be limited to representatives
of government tourist bureaus and other officialdom? Will you be allowed to
roam freely around the country, chatting with whomever you like, or will
your steps be monitored? Those with business contacts may have more
opportunity to interact with local citizens, but even the average tourist
can be a witness for human rights. What is required first of all is to know
what to look for, and that requires preparation. What kind of government is
in power in the country? Who, if anyone, is getting hurt? What is the labor
situation? How are ethnic minorities, gays and lesbians, and women being
treated? Is there a free press or religious freedom? This kind of
information can be gathered by accessing Amnesty International's country
reports (www.amnesty-usa.org/ann-rpt.html) or the State Department's annual
human rights country reports (www.dosfan.lib.uic.edu).
A visitor can make a big difference after arriving in the country. People
under threat cannot help but be buoyed by contact with a sympathetic outside
world. This can take any number of forms, from prearranged professional
meetings with counterparts in the country to attendance at religious
services to casual encounters in cafes or in the street. Contact with
journalists and teachers is often fruitful, and students are almost always
eager to talk with those from overseas, if for no other reason than to
practice language skills. Such encounters provide opportunities not only for
exchanging information but sometimes for delivering messages to relatives,
friends or contacts in the United States that might otherwise not get
through.
Naturally the average tourist or business traveler is unlikely to stumble
across an incident of torture, and most casual travelers would prefer to
avoid prisons. Human rights conscious travel requires common sense; no
police force in the world takes kindly to being lectured. But when
governments learn that foreigners have an interest in a particular group or
situation, that often gives them pause. When I was head of a U.S. religious
denomination during the eighties, I visited Romania several times before the
fall of the dictator Nicolae Ceausescu. I always made it a point to embrace
my local co-religionists as enthusiastically and publicly as I could- a
gesture that, they later testified, had not exempted them from harassment
but had certainly mitigated it. Tyrants, no matter how apparently powerful,
always hate having their tyranny exposed.
If by chance one should run across a public demonstration and physical
circumstances safely allow it, a simple, quiet witness of the action from
the sidelines can have a profound effect upon both the demonstrators (who
are likely to chant louder in the presence of a foreigner) and the police or
military (who will probably be more restrained).
How and where one spends one's money can also be important. In many
countries the crafts of indigenous people provide one of their few steady
sources of income. Contact and purchases can lend sustenance to the arts
community, which is often on the cutting edge of political criticism. It's
worth checking out dissenting newspapers and supporting their advertisers
who are worthy of encouragement. Tourists might also want to seek out
locally run schools and missions, micro-credit agencies and women's
cooperatives independent of the government.
It is when a visitor returns home, of course, that all these experiences can
best be put to use. There's nothing like the words "Well, I was there." In
addition to comments about the weather and accommodations, a well-chosen
word on the troubles one has learned about and the heroism one has
glimpsed-in a letter to the editor or a presentation before a group-can
bring the human rights situation to life for people, including those in
power, who have not been there (including the many G.O.P. Congressional
freshmen who boast of not even having a passport).
But perhaps the most valuable reward of traveling with politically open eyes
is the appreciation for freedom it engenders. On one of those trips to
Ceausescu's Romania, my traveling colleague complained to her husband in the
presumed privacy of her hotel room, "I can't stand the wood chips in this
toilet paper. What I wouldn't give for some Western paper!" And the next
day, in her room-but not in mine!-was smooth Western toilet paper. ("I'd
love a good, thick, juicy steak!" I shouted that night into the lampshade,
but somehow it did no good.)
At the time, that toilet paper was welcome, but the way it was ordered
became a symbol of all that our Romanian friends had lost. A conscious
effort to incorporate a human rights witness into our traveling is one small
way to help return a measure of freedom to those who have none.
William F. Schulz is the executive director of Amnesty International USA.
fwd by:
Paul Gonsalves
[EMAIL PROTECTED]
