In February 1998, while traveling in Asia for a year, I met Scott from Ottawa in an Irish pub in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Scott worked for a non-governmental organization (NGO) on the Thailand-Burma border, working with Burmese refugees in a refugee camp. Only a year before I had attended a Free Burma Coalition meeting where I learned about the Burmese situation and was inspired to learn more. So when I met Scott, I was excited to speak to him about the Burmese people and his work with them. Before we were even introduced I listened to him as he spoke to a table of western travelers and expatriates about his evacuation from the refugee camp just that morning. Clearly overwhelmed by the days events, he dramatically reported that once again, the Burmese military regime had launched an attack on the unguarded refugee camp, and that mortars were being shot, homes were being burned, and thousands of people were fleeing chaotically, with nowhere to go. Thousands of people with nowhere to go.

This image had struck me at the Free Burma Coalition meeting. Upon learning about the tragedy of the Burmese people and their culture, I was left with the feeling that ‘here I am, living in the United States, oblivious to the suffering of millions of innocent peoples throughout the world.’ This feeling was the impetus for my travel to Asia and stayed with me as I met all different kinds of people. As I sat there listening to Scott describing his first-hand experience of the Burmese struggle, I was saddened and moved. Thinking of all these desperate people with nowhere to go, I wanted to learn more and to see if I could help.

When we were finally introduced I informed Scott of my desire to help and asked him what I could do. He said that if I was not a doctor, a teacher or a reporter, there was little need for me there. Overall, he was aloof as we spoke and seemed guarded about giving me any information about his work, the organization which he worked for, or any other names of people I could contact about work. Eventually, he got up and sat at another table and I was left wondering why he was so protective.

Before he left, Scott came back and said that he was sorry for not being helpful but it had been a long, trying day and that the organizations really only wanted people who would commit to working for a substantial length of time. I said that I might be willing to commit to this but wanted to find out more about the Burmese situation and what was needed from people like myself. He was still unwilling to give me any names of people in Chiang Mai to speak with, but said that he would be in town for a few more days and would meet me back at the Irish Pub to talk further. We made an appointment for the following night. The next night I arrived at the Irish Pub and waited for three hours, but never saw Scott again.

I was disappointed and frustrated with how Scott had acted towards me. I just could not understand it. Scott obviously cared about the Burmese people enough to give up his life at home and literally risk his life working for them on the border, but Scott also seemed to convey some sense of entitlement about his place there that left me with an uncomfortable feeling. Earlier, when he was detailing his evacuation from the refugee camp he was clearly descriptive and willing to share his story. But it was his story. As I contemplated this encounter, I was left with the haunting image that the night I met him, Scott was drinking a beer at the Irish Pub in Chiang Mai, having been evacuated from the refugee camp, while thousands of Burmese were still chaotically fleeing into the jungle, with nowhere to go. Why was it that Scott had been evacuated but thousands of Burmese people were left to make it on their own?

These and other questions ran through my mind and soon I returned to the United States where I determined that I would save money, learn more about the Burmese situation, and return to help the struggling Burmese in whatever ways I could. My wife Sarah and I spent some months searching for an organization through which to work. We sent out letters and emails to several non-governmental and humanitarian organizations only to be turned away by each one we contacted. Most, in fact, did not even respond. The little feedback we did receive explained that they were looking for applicants that possessed prior experience or specific skills. We did not have what they were looking for. After several frustrating months Sarah and I just decided to go and check out the scene on the Thai-Burma border. Several months later we arrived in Mae Sot, Thailand with no work or position - only our desire to serve.

Being representatives of the West we never questioned the notion that western aid organizations and their workers are indispensable in relieving the suffering of people who are displaced, oppressed, and in need of relief. We simply assumed that since these organizations are actively providing aid, development and relief, they do ‘good work.’ From the very beginning of my involvement abroad, this notion was challenged. Through the process of having this notion challenged I was led to reconsider helping relationships between western aid workers and their aid recipients. This process is an often painful and frightening one, yet points in a direction which is hopeful and full of possibilities for healing. This paper speaks to both the painful and the hopeful, and as such, represents an attempt to bring integrity to western involvement with ‘Third World’ peoples. Simultaneously, this paper reflects my own process as a western aid worker among other western aid workers, and sheds light on the psychology that fuels such unchallenged notions of western humanitarian involvement.

I don't believe in charity; I believe in solidarity. Charity is vertical, so it's humiliating. It goes from top to bottom. Solidarity is horizontal. It respects the other and learns from the other. I have a lot to learn from other people. (Eduardo Galeano)

Recently, I have entered into the discourse on international humanitarian assistance, and have found a sharp disagreement as to whether foreign involvement in developing nations is "aiding or abetting" the people it purports to serve (Broadmoor, T., 2001, p. 8). The disagreement generally revolves around such issues as: the benefits or shortcomings of helping efforts, the unequal relationships between foreign aid workers and the ‘underdeveloped,’ cultural sensitivity, various economic agendas, the politics of host countries, and the overall structure of globalized interdependence.

These issues are important to people on both sides of the international aid relationship, but I contend that before we can hope to field these issues, we must first engage in an in-depth exploration into the fundamental motivations or agendas of westerners involved in international humanitarian work. How we interpret such issues, I argue, depends on our predisposition to viewing the issues themselves. In other words, people’s context or worldview structures the very way the helping relationship is formed - including the intention of their relationships, their role in relationships, and the future of such relationships.

Like Eduardo Galeano, I believe that "I have a lot to learn from other people." As this statement indicates, there is a relationship between "the other" and "I." Of course, "the other" could be applied to anyone on the planet, but like Galeano, I will focus on the ‘helping relationship’ that is indicative of international humanitarian aid.

I experienced such a relationship during the nine months I spent working with Burmese exiles on the Thailand-Burma border. With the deterioration of life in Burma under a brutal military regime, millions of Burmese have been forced from their homes. When I arrived in September 1999 there were reportedly 1.2 million Burmese exiles living in Thailand (Thai Ministry of the Interior, 1999) - while only 100,000 of them were officially recognized refugees through the United Nations High Commission of Refugees (UNHCR). Hundreds of thousands of these Burmese have settled into a rapidly expanding population along the Thai-Burma border, while in the Mae Sot area alone, there are well over 40,000 Burmese workers, as well as numerous student and political activist groups (Wildflower Land Support Group, 2000). Because most of the exiles are officially ‘illegal,’ their status is in a constant state of insecurity. They must endure very cruel living standards which include fear of arrest and deportation, unsanitary living conditions, poor food, abuse, harmful work environments, low wages, long working hours, and difficult access to health care, social services and education. Consequently, there are numerous international non-governmental organizations, aid agencies, and volunteers in Thailand, working in support of the Burmese exiles.

My wife Sarah and I journeyed to Mae Sot, Thailand, with the intention of being of some service to the struggling Burmese population there. Because we did not go through any organization, we had a certain amount of flexibility that resulted in our living with Burmese exiles, working to do whatever we could to support their needs. This afforded us the rare opportunity to be invited, as intimate partners, into their exiled democracy movement. All the while we were cognizant that no matter how open-minded and authentic we might be, we were still ‘foreign invaders,’ and as such, representatives of an alien culture. And what’s more, many in ‘Third World’ countries see this invasion as an oppressive force fueled by western dominance, and resting on a false notion of western superiority.

Sensitive to this, and open to their mistrust of such invasions, I was able to sit somewhere between the distinction of foreign aid worker and Burmese exile, and live at the edge of two cultures where the "I" and "the other" meet. At this edge, the most pressing concern I was faced with was this issue regarding western involvement. Were we, as westerners coming to assist, no matter how sensitive and open, in fact perpetuating the very same oppression which required our assistance in the first place?

Although not always the central issue being discussed and analyzed, I have come to believe that it is of central importance to the international humanitarian assistance debate. I raise and consider this question in the hopes that it will serve to develop and deepen the ongoing discourse as to the implications of western aid workers’ involvement with suffering ‘Third World’ peoples. As such, I invite western aid workers to consider the claims of their aid recipients that in many cases western assistance is perpetuating their personal oppression and cultural destruction.

Therefore, this paper is a call to all western aid workers to reflect on the psychological agenda of past western involvement abroad, to contemplate their own motivations for involvement in international aid work, and to consider the impact their work has on the people they are serving. Throughout the text, I will specifically focus on western individuals that are working in foreign lands among ‘Third World’ peoples. Even calling such people ‘Third World,’ ‘lesser-developed,’ and ‘underdeveloped’ — which I consciously do throughout this text — implies a certain way of perceiving reality which reflects a basic inequality; for who defines these derogatory terms but the groups in power? In this way, my discussion also relates to the group psychology of governmental and non-governmental organizations, as well as relief and developmental aid agencies.

This paper is not designed to present alternative models or ways of being that might allow western aid workers and those they serve to better work together. It is also not designed to determine the psychological origin of these issues. I cannot hope to understand this subject in totality, but by facing these issues, this paper is designed to raise and consider these provocative questions. This, in turn, will be the first part of an ongoing exploration into the psychology of oppression, revolution, and transformation, and a critical analysis of multicultural psychology in general.

In this paper I will rely on my conversations, interviews, correspondence, and journals from my experience living with Burmese exiles to consider the implications of the questions posed. I will also use secondary resources to reflect on issues raised during my time as a western aid worker on the Thai-Burma border. Together, they will be used as evidence to develop and support my thesis that western assistance is plagued by a psychology that implicitly proclaims western superiority, and that international aid workers have the responsibility to combat this pestilent ethnocentrism within themselves.

With regret, I will have to bypass the necessary but enormous task of providing a history — or better yet, a psychohistory — of western involvement abroad. Also with regret, I am limiting this study to the psychology of western aid workers as I feel more adequately prepared to discuss western intervention as opposed to intervention from other developed countries such as prominent Asian and Middle Eastern countries. Obviously, exploration is not new. Since the dawn of human civilization people have continually and ‘successfully’ explored every region of the globe. Yet, neither is foreign invasion new. Western civilization could be retold as a history of invading, conquering, and ruling foreign peoples and lands. To many, this is a story written in blood, sweat, and tears. To some, this is a story of human development and progress. As important as it is to understand the full scope of this history, here I am focusing on the psychological implications of the stories. And more specifically, where we are in this story today.

‘WHITE MAN’S BURDEN’

At the present time there are concerns from various individuals and groups throughout the world that western governments, businesses, organizations, agencies, and individuals are continuing the story of western ‘conquer and rule.’ But, we must admit, times have changed. No longer are we witnessing boats carrying armed light-skinned men across the seas, and returning with dark-skinned ‘natives’ in servitude. No longer are we witnessing European empires vying for colonies on every continent. No longer can anyone proclaim that ‘The sun never sets on the British Empire.’ The sun has set, and a new day has come.

Before we can applaud western nations for returning ownership and responsibility of these lands back to their native inhabitants, we must first stop and consider whether the times have indeed changed. Even if we concede that the slave trading days are past, that empires have fallen, and that England is just another country among hundreds, there are other, more subtle, but similarly destructive forces of western invasion. "The conclusion," Leonard Doob (1960) proclaimed, "must be that more civilized peoples in the modern world continue to carry on some kind of crusade. The desire to civilize is not weakening; its expression is being altered. Modern missionaries, for example, are now interested not only in people’s religion but also in their medical, educational, scientific, and political institutions" (p. 246). According to some critics of international aid, ‘White Man’s Burden’ is alive and thriving.

‘White Man’s Burden,’ originally coined by pro-colonialism writer Rudyard Kipling (see Appendix I), has its origins in the white man’s belief that he was fashioned in the image of his God. Their Judeo-Christian God is an omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient God, who is by nature benevolent and just, though when necessary, wrathful and vengeful. Endowing themselves with such power, presence, and knowledge, it was the perfect ideology for exercising worldwide dominion. Albert Beveridge, an Indiana senator during the invasion of The Philippines, put it bluntly on the Senate floor: "It is elemental, it is racial. God has not been preparing the English and Teutonic-speaking peoples for a thousand years for nothing but vain and idle self-admiration….He has made us the master organizers of the world to establish system where chaos reigns….among savage and senile peoples" (cited Dunaway, online, 2001).

Blessed with divine authority, what couldn’t the white man from the west do? In the United States they had successfully completed their ‘Manifest Destiny,’ which helped persuade God-fearing Americans that, as President Teddy Roosevelt declared, "this great continent could not have been kept as nothing but a game preserve for squalid savages" (cited Dunaway, online, 2001). But unlike Manifest Destiny, which had more modest goals, White Man’s Burden aimed worldwide: World domination was the vision, imperialism, colonialism, slavery, and Christian missions were the tools, and White Man’s Burden was the psychological justification of entitlement, necessary for God’s people to fulfill their vision. "Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven" (The New Testament, St. Matthew 6: 9-10).

Such an entitlement was crucial. Without it, the paradox that western democratic nations were violating their own democratic ideals in the process of subjugating those "squalid savages" might have prevented their citizens, and possibly their leaders, from endorsing such astonishing violence (Conklin, A. 1998). By declaring divine authority, western man, made in the very image of God, had a moral duty to bring the word of God to the ‘savages,’ the ‘primitives,’ the ‘heathens,’ and the ‘uncivilized.’ Just about the time Roosevelt was celebrating this conquest, his predecessor, President William McKinley, confessed, "I went down on my knees and prayed [to] Almighty God for light and guidance more than one night. And one night late it came to me this way - I don’t know how it was but it came…that there was nothing left for us to do but to take them all, and to educate [them], and uplift them and civilize and Christianize them, and by God’s grace do the very best we could by them, as our fellow-men for whom Christ also died" (cited Dunaway, online, 2001).

McKinley, unlike Roosevelt, at least paid verbal reverence to the savages’ salvation. At the same time, his confession illustrates the driving moral obligation which allowed the white, Christian man to transcend the moral limitations of such noble ideals as freedom, liberty, and democracy, and to fulfill their true manifest destiny.

The agendas that the imperial leaders had are extraneous to this argument, for regardless of what their desires and lusts motivated them to do, what is essential is that these leaders truly believed in their commitment to annihilate the life of these people, and to refashion the survivors in the image of the western man. Now one can certainly argue that the systematic acquisition of riches, resources, and land, was their true manifest destiny — and in a sense it was — but what I am arguing here is that driving their desires and lusts was a certain predisposition for believing that these drives were entitled to them; and them only.

Before we move on, let us not misunderstand the modern interpretation of White Man’s Burden. Although many cynics would like nothing more than to chalk up the current tide of international resentment against the west to jealousies regarding American values and economics, it is much more complex. As Burmese activist, and founder of Free Burma Coalition, Zarni suggested, in the myth of "White Man’s Burden…whiteness of the skin is NOT a problem - but the political, cultural, psychological, and economic attributes of it are" (Zarni, email, October 13, 2001). What exactly are the ‘cultural’ and ‘psychological’ attributes of which he is referring to? This discussion has been conspicuously, or not so conspicuously, overlooked for far too long.

In Leonard Doob’s book, Becoming More Civilized: A Psychological Exploration, he promotes the implicit assumption that civilization, meaning western-style development, is inevitable, if not good. Therefore, as the title suggests, his ‘psychological exploration’ dealt with the process of indigenous cultures realizing what westerners used to call salvation, and what Doob calls civilization. Already sanctified with divine righteousness, "The desire to carry the white man’s burden has not been an empty slogan: moved either by genuine compassion or a not necessarily evil feeling of superiority, Europeans of the nineteenth and early twentieth century made real and often incredible personal sacrifices to bring to less civilized peoples an assorted sample of what they sincerely believed to be the best of the material and spiritual aspects of their own civilization" (Doob, 1960, p. 245). It is hard not to be cynical when reading about the ‘material’ and ‘spiritual’ gifts westerners bestowed on native peoples — Christianity, guns, diseases, etc. — all of which the native peoples never wanted. I am left wondering, are these the best gifts that western civilization has to offer?

The question remains, why did westerners feel the need to provide ‘less civilized’ peoples often in far-away lands with anything at all? Why this driving force to take such risks and make such sacrifices just in order to bring them ‘gifts’ of civilization? In other words, why not live our lives and let others live theirs? Doob claims that the motivations could be found either in "genuine compassion or a not necessarily evil feeling of superiority," but this sounds quite peculiar. Genuine compassion, it seems to me, would more appropriately lead one to respect others and share with them as opposed to teaching others how to be better, unless of course the others requested such teaching. And "a not necessarily evil feeling of superiority" sounds more like a nagging sense of inferiority which acting superior might help relieve. It is reminiscent of the playground bully who feels inadequate and small within and therefore must hurt others to feel some sense of adequacy and power in the world.

Like the playground bully, western civilization traveled the globe to realize its power. Legitimizing this drive, Doob uses pseudo-scientific claims such as "Hypothesis 26: All societies eventually become civilized in a distinctive manner or perish" (p. 243) to explain why relationships between the ‘First World’ and ‘Third World’ inevitably result in an unbalanced power struggle where western civilization exerts "a dominating influence" throughout the world (p. 243). Such a hypothesis supports the inevitability of the destruction of indigenous cultures while validating western involvement in ‘helping’ them to survive. In hindsight, it looks like Doob was supporting McKinley’s claim that we "do the very best we could by them." Whereas McKinley used divine authority to legitimate oppression, Doob used scientific procedure to do the same.

This marks a turning point in the development of a notion of western superiority that exercises its dominating influence on different people. "Economic, political, social, scientific, biological, moral, psychological, and religious justifications were all given, at one time or another, to explain away the dilemma," or "psychological paradox" of subjugating indigenous peoples by western nations that were "founded on principles of freedom and democracy. Suppression, violence, prejudice, and discrimination were overt symptoms of the dilemma" (Axelson, 1993, p. 98). This dilemma, or psychological paradox, is fundamental to western involvement abroad.

David Maybury-Lewis (1997), in his book Indigenous Peoples, Ethnic Groups, and the State, points out that around the same time that Beveridge, McKinley, and Roosevelt were reinforcing western superiority via divine sanction, several theories based on Darwin’s theory of evolution were emerging which scientifically validated the principles behind ‘White Man’s Burden,’ ‘Manifest Destiny,’ and the drive for world dominion:

…All of them placed tribal societies and indigenous peoples at or close to the bottom of the ladder of development. The writers’ own societies (often simply glossed as "civilization") were invariably to be found at the top. Europeans and their descendants tended in any case to think that it was in the natural order of things for stronger and more "advanced" peoples to conquer and rule over weaker and more "backward" ones…Now they felt they had the scientific evidence that proved their superiority and justified their imperialism….Once it was accepted as scientific truth that colonists and settlers represented societies which were on higher rungs of the evolutionary ladder than the savages they confronted, then this provided moral justification for almost anything that the former might do to the latter. (p. 14)

 

Moral justification was thus transformed conveniently from the Judeo-Christian God to the new God, science. No longer was there a gray area captured by the word ‘faith,’ now there was ‘proof’ to define truth. Better yet, the two could work together to procure the civilized man’s interests. And this is just what they did.

In the face of a rapidly changing world, western peoples championed Social Darwinism as a more legitimate form of moral superiority. Within western nations, it served to nullify any intimations of more open, egalitarian societies, and ensured the superiority of the aristocratic ruling class. Psychologically, "it enabled ruling elites to appear compatible with progress, while providing a justification for the immutability of the status quo. At the same time it, it allowed the emancipatory aspirations of the workers or colonial peoples to be dismissed as the futile protestations of inferior subjects in the struggle for existence….As an ideology it proved virtually ideal for justifying imperialism, [and] was kept alive by a host of popularizers in the industrialised nations" (Wehler, 1987, p. 180). Armed with such "an aura of ‘irrefutable’ scientific knowledge," this ideology was popularized amongst the industrialized nations of the west in order to continue their conquest of the world (p. 180).

To western nations this conquest was serious business. These ‘lesser-developed’ people were usually sitting on valuable, undeveloped natural resources, were strategically located, and/or were politically significant. Therefore, oppression, ethnocide, and even genocide became viable, if not advocated policies towards indigenous peoples. In the past few hundred years, western powers have generally referred to such policies as "modernization." Of course, the justification was that these tribal peoples were "‘backward,’ so it is presumed that their ways must be changed and their cultures destroyed, partly in order to civilize them and partly to enable them to coexist with others in the modern world" (Maybury-Lewis, 1997, p. 9).

To most western countries, coexistence reflected Aristotle’s doctrine of "natural slavery" which legitimized the natural inferiority of certain peoples, thereby endorsing the civilized peoples with "a right to enslave them and to make war on them, should they refuse to submit" (p. 13). They were given a choice: submit and become modernized (now accepted as the new term for civilized), or else be eradicated. This sounds eerily similar to current claims made against western aid organizations with regards to funding: submit to our ways or lose access to financial support; which to many vulnerable groups could lead to tragic results. A Burmese friend once wrote to me, "A grain of rice can be a weapon in the context of war or conflict. It enables certain populations to survive — and carry out their conflicts — while others may be allowed to die or be weakened, because of the lack of foreign aid" (Burmese friend, email, 2002).

So much for the scientific legitimacy of evolution. Social Darwinism only served to justify the superior group’s agenda of extermination of all aboriginal peoples who would not abandon their indigenous cultures and assimilate into the modern world. Either way, these cultures were doomed for extinction.

In a haunting voice from this era, Charles Darwin himself — who many have protected from advocating such heinous policies based on his theory of evolution — spoke to the necessity of this extinction:

At some future period, not very distant as measured by centuries, the civilized races of man will almost certainly exterminate, and replace, the savage races throughout the world. At the same time, the anthropomorphous apes…will no doubt be exterminated. The break between man and his nearest allies will then be wider, for it will intervene between man in a more civilized state, as we may hope, even than the Caucasian, and some ape as low as a baboon, instead of as now between the negro [sic] or Australian and the gorilla. (Darwin, 1901, pp. 241-242)

 

Why, many ask in retrospect, would anyone desire to exterminate innocent people? Even if these indigenous peoples did represent valuable interests, weren’t there more humane ways to reconcile the West’s desire for resources and indigenous resistance to modernization? The answer to these questions is complicated, as scholars of any sanctioned genocide can attest to, but Maybury-Lewis testifies that since these native peoples "were not fully human," according to Christian doctrine which claimed that "they lacked the essential attributes of humanity — souls or a belief in Christianity — they were not entitled to what we would nowadays call ‘human rights’" (1997, p. 30).

Under the model of Social Darwinism, the ‘natives’ were excluded from any benefits appropriate to evolved man, which at that time meant exclusively white man. This reflects a stubborn, embedded ethnocentric reality in which one’s own people are superior to all other peoples. "Ethnocentrism is...a belief that one’s own group is the center of everything, the standards by which all others are rated. The individual identifies with his or her group’s culture and assumes that the group’s cultural patterns are the best and right ways of acting….Since the concept of ethnocentrism implies a value bias, or an assumption about what is desirable…Prejudice has been described as a psychological phenomenon in which a person’s consciousness of reality is altered in order to exclude unwanted ideas, feelings, or impulses. Prejudice and related defense mechanisms have been learned as a solution to internal psychological conflicts" (Axelson, 1993, p. 159).

Ethnocentrism, in and of itself, is not dangerous. All cultural groups have this belief as part of their collective identity. But historically, as cultures interact, oftentimes this notion of ethnocentrism turns into a notion of prejudice. Identifying with such prejudiced notions often leads to justifications for eliminating difference. In this way, a healthy sense of cultural pride becomes a disturbed belief in one’s own ethnic, racial, religious, or political superiority. Therefore, as a defense mechanism, this ‘superiority complex’ eliminates difference so as to protect one’s own identity.

Expanding on this, Linda Kelly Woodruff offers an enlightening and original interpretation of the psychological foundations of this desire for superiority. From a Jungian perspective, she explores western involvement abroad based on Jung’s notion of projection. Jung believed projection to be an "unconscious and automatic transfer of one’s incompatible, conflicting, dark, part-personalities onto another person….[blurring] the distinction between the subjective and objective experience" (Woodruff, 1996, p. 384). Usually, this projection occurs when others evoke fear and insecurity within a person, responding to elements within themselves they are unconscious of. Often, the desired objects of transfer are at some distance away from the projecting individual, so as to allow for greater safety. In this way, the ‘shadow’ or ‘dark side’ within oneself is not acknowledged but becomes cast onto another.

However, if these unconscious attributes were originally suppressed due to their latent, possibly malevolent powers, when these attributes are transferred onto another, one’s emotional reactions to such people are likely to be intense. Paulo Freire (1970) remarked, "Not all men have sufficient courage for this encounter - but when men avoid encounter they become inflexible and treat others as mere objects; instead of nurturing life, they kill life; instead of searching for life, they flee from it. And these are oppressor characteristics" (p. 124). These "oppressor characteristics" are often so intense, in fact, that the dominant person or group will often want to kill the others in order not to identify with their own unconscious feelings.

The person transferring their feelings is in avoidance which functions as a means of psychological survival. In order to allow the self to survive, "On the intrapersonal and interpersonal levels, individual projections from the personal unconscious allow individuals to maintain a degree of personal comfort and sense of well-being. On the macro level, collective projections from the collective unconscious of any group — whether race, religion, profession, political party, or nation — allow for maintenance of a certain degree of in-group comfort and sense of well-being….Overdone, all things unlovely, dark, and evil are projected onto others, thus allowing the individual or group to escape, at least temporarily, any contact with those aspects within the psyche" (p. 384).

Often times, this successful escape from such threatening forces within oneself creates within individuals and cultures "an elevated and unrealistic sense of superiority, goodness, worthiness, and entitlement to privilege results" (cited Woodruff, 1996, p. 384). To such people, Good triumphed over Evil. Rather than address their own inadequacies or limitations, these become the problems of others.

Jung spoke about opposites such as good and evil, light and dark. To Jung, an individual’s psychological and spiritual task was to negotiate the balance of these opposites, and hopefully to integrate them as a whole. "The ego keeps its integrity only if it does not (unconsciously) identify with one of the opposites, and if it understands how to hold the balance between them. This is possible only if it remains conscious of both at once" (Jung, 1960, p. 255). The dominant group, who has an interest in subjugating others for ulterior motives, does not bother with or value the difficult task of maintaining this balance. Moreover, to the individuals of the dominant group, this process of balance is made ever more challenging by their social, political and religious leaders. These leaders, often attempting to satisfy their own objectives, influence their supporters with "a necessarily one-sided truth" (p. 255). Again, reducing the complexities of a situation to such ‘black and white’ positions leads to a successful escape from threatening forces but also an identification with a one-sided ‘reality.’ This distorted worldview, protecting its side of ‘reality,’ often champions a notion of superiority and victory over ominous forces.

In order to maintain this sense of superiority one part of the self is sacrificed. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, that those who believe in him may not perish, but may have life everlasting" (The New Testament, John 3: 16). Hence, one’s whole self is crucified in the hopes of having "life everlasting," or the illusion of control. Integrity is destroyed and these individuals are left with only partial selves. The sad irony in all of this is that while these individuals believe that they are exercising control over life, in dominating others these individuals are simultaneously "denied an essential part of life - the opportunity to acquire self-understanding through knowing their impact on others. They are thus deprived of ‘consensual validation,’ feedback, and a chance to correct their actions and expressions" (Miller, 1986, p. 10). Therefore, there is no opportunity for relationships and the partial self becomes even more isolated within itself. This isolation leads to an even greater atrophy of the partial self which adds more material to the already cut-off unconscious repository, which in turn creates more projections in order to maintain a false sense of wholeness. It gets to such a point that "an individual’s or group’s one-sided embrace of spirit cripples it and produces ‘isms’ with the ‘power to swamp minds’" (cited Woodruff, 1996, p. 385). And thus the cycle of projection and destruction persists.

Tragically, this can lead to what social scientists call ethnocide. Ethnocide, a subtle form of genocide, puts ethnocentrism into action. Unlike genocide which is directed at the extermination of a race or kind of people, ethnocide is directed at the "destruction of a people’s way of life" (Maybury-Lewis, 1997, p. 9). Obviously then, ethnocide is a precursor for genocide. Because these ‘lesser-developed’ people were historically perceived as having no souls, as less evolved, and were in the way of western development, ethnocide became an implicit policy towards indigenous peoples. As we have already seen, western leaders have also explicitly championed such policies. Despite the fact that indigenous people had lived autonomous, successful existences for thousands of years without the support and advancements of western civilization, western leaders simply did not care. (Bodley, 1975).

In reality, there was no place for indigenous people in the modern world. It was not their world. And like Doob’s Hypothesis 26, all the justifications for why native peoples were doomed for extinction were based on false premises. Maybury-Lewis argues this point on the principle that:

Change of itself does not destroy a culture….Cultural survival is not a matter of maintaining a way of life frozen at a certain moment...It is a matter of a society’s having enough confidence in its past and enough say in its future to be able to maintain the spirit of its culture through all the changes that it will inevitable undergo. From this perspective it is clear that the stereotype of indigenous cultures being bound to disappear because they cannot deal with the modern world is quite wrong….Indigenous cultures only disappear if the bearers of the culture are scattered or annihilated by external force, or when drastic changes are forcibly and rapidly imposed on indigenous societies, rendering them unable to cope. The point to remember is that indigenous cultures are not extinguished by natural laws but by political processes which are susceptible to human control….Arguments that make the destruction of indigenous cultures seem natural and even beneficial (in terms of modernization) preempt the discussion of possible alternatives and thus contribute to the inevitably of that destruction (1997, p. 38).

 

These arguments still abound. They have transmutated throughout the years but these false justifications are still essential elements in the structure of western domination. As Doob (1960) so prophetically observed, "the desire to civilize is not weakening; its expression is being altered" (p. 246). One wonders, however, if he had any idea of the pernicious method by which its expression was being altered.

After the horrors of the first two world wars, western populations began gradually to reconsider their national, ethnic, racial, and religious biases. Although it can be argued that western governments were not following suit, a gradual awareness of difference began building amongst western populations and their colonial subjects. In many ways, the crimes against humanity during colonialism and imperialism were so immaculately justified by western notions of moral superiority that there was no room for dissent. And during the world wars, Nationalism and Fascism did the same. But this time, they fought each other. The western imperial nations, gone mad, were bringing their hens home to roost. As the dust settled, countries and individuals began realizing that something was not right. Ethnocentrism went underground as western leaders devised plans to begin working ‘together’ for the goodwill of humanity, through such international organizations as the League of Nations, and later as the United Nations.

Although civilizing forces were quieted and Nationalism and Fascism had been crushed, amidst the Cold War - with Democracy and Communism vying for global control — western nations were more eager than ever to continue their imperial policies around the world. Dissent could no longer be so neatly justified by notions of sinful and uncivilized behavior. The western powers made sure to contain any and all dissent through a systematic and merciless campaign of oppression. This campaign manifested in cold war strategies and ‘conflicts’ which devastated indigenous cultures and opened a door for western aid organizations to enter, so as to help rebuild and restructure entire societies (Colby & Dennet, 1995).

After World War II, dissent was becoming exceedingly difficult to contain. ‘Third World’ countries were now being released from the imperial tether and in many countries throughout Africa, Asia, and South America, indigenous uprisings were occurring. Revolutions were forcing political changes, and many of these countries turned to pre-colonial times to celebrate their national character and liberate from the yoke of oppression. In Burma, for example, a student-led national army successfully negotiated independence from British rule. On January 4, 1948, after approximately 120 years of colonial rule, Burma restored itself proudly as ‘The Golden Land.’

As Zarni observed, in his own home country of Burma, when the British left and granted them independence they inherited a legacy in the form of "political, cultural, psychological, and economic" devastation. This widespread ruin, a child of ‘divide and rule’ policy, led to political anarchy, economic insecurity, ethnic in-fighting, and civil war. Unable to reconstruct true independence, the country’s integrity and prosperity were greatly compromised, so much so that as once they were a proud, independent nation of diverse peoples, they were now forced to accept status as Least Developed Nation. What the Burmese probably would have never fathomed at the time of independence was that they would be left to contend with this legacy of helplessness more than sixty years later.

Simultaneously, as ‘Third World’ countries struggled for independence from colonial rule, among the western nations — led by the United States — the late 1950s and 1960s ushered in an emerging consciousness of racial, gender, sexual, and cultural inequality and oppression. People throughout this country, as elsewhere, were standing up and demanding racial equality, women’s rights, sexual rights, and cultural diversity. But what were these activists up against?

By this time, it was clear that imperialism, in any explicit form, was not going to be able to support western democracies any longer. There was a fundamental paradox that could not be rectified, and that had to do with the fact that the global rule of the supposedly most advanced democracies in the world — America, England, France — relied on a systematic practice of coercion and oppression that violated their own fundamentally democratic values. Moreover, these world leaders did not seem to be aware that there was "any contradiction between their democratic institutions and the violent acquisition of overseas colonies" (Conklin, 1998; Axelson, 1993). This paradox points to a severely disturbed psychological process, one that was made shockingly apparent to western individuals during their world wars.

John Pilger, a renowned British journalist, wrote a series of challenging articles after the recent attacks against the World Trade Towers and the Pentagon (9/11). Speaking directly about the changing structure of western superiority, he reports:

Since the end of the cold war, a new opportunity has arisen. The economic and political crises in the developing world, largely the result of imperialism…now serve as retrospective justification for imperialism. Although the word remains unspeakable, the western intelligentsia, conservatives and liberals alike, today…share a word whose true meaning relies on a comparison with those who are uncivilised, inferior and might challenge the "values" of the west, specifically its God-given right to control and plunder the uncivilized….Moreover, with every bomb that falls on Afghanistan and perhaps Iraq to come, Islamic and Arab militancy will grow and draw the battle lines of "a clash of civilizations" that fanatics on both sides have long wanted. (Pilger, online, October 9, 2001)

 

This "clash of civilizations," Pilger maintains, is inevitable as long as the global expansion of western civilization continues. He reminds us that not so long ago the justification of global dominance, imperialism, was "represented in unambiguously positive terms as a major contributor to human civilization" (Pilger, online, October 9, 2001). But this "new opportunity" has presented itself as the very aftereffects of imperialism itself.

The fact that these ex-colonial nations are now suffering unbearable poverty, corruption, famine, war — due to the systematic ruin caused by the colonial powers originally — gives these same western powers a new justification for re-entering these countries. Some refer to this as neo-colonialism, and it is based on the premise that western nations will help rebuild and restructure these struggling countries. They will help. Yet some critics are concerned that this ‘help’ will simply be fulfilling Darwin’s haunting vision that "the civilized races of man will…exterminate, and replace, the savage races throughout the world….[Indeed,] the anthropomorphous apes…will no doubt be exterminated."

And what about the international aid organizations that are designed to provide help? They, no doubt, must understand this history. They must realize the danger of propagating this way of thinking. They must recognize the value of difference, and at least be attempting to respect it. But according to Pilger, "there is a lot of silence….Years of promoting the jargon of ‘liberal realism’ and misrepresenting imperialism as crisis management, rather than the cause of the crisis, have taken their toll" (Pilger, online, October 9, 2001). In other words, even western aid workers - not unlike the slave traders, the colonists, the Social Darwinists, and so many other western pioneers — might be silently perpetuating the plague of moral superiority, moving us all dreadfully closer to this apocalyptic "clash of civilizations."

"We thus have a long heritage of prejudice behind us from which it may be difficult to extricate ourselves, especially since much of it is on a more or less unconscious level" (cited Axelson, 1993, p. 155). Jean Baker Miller (1986), challenging this legacy of prejudice in her classic book toward a new psychology of women, poses this question: "When does the engagement of difference…have negative effects: when does it lead to great difficulty, deterioration, terror, and violence - both for individuals and for groups?" She continues, "It is clear that ‘mankind’ in general, especially in our Western tradition but in some others as well, does not have a very glorious record in this regard" (p. 3). Because of this less-than-glorious record of western man, her driving question becomes essential for resolving the psychological conflict between "difference."

This relationship of difference, or what Miller defines as ‘permanent inequality,’ is a fundamental problem. Much like the previous ideologies used to support western dominance, it is a psychological dysfunction whereby one group is defined as superior while another is labeled inferior. Miller’s book revolves around this dysfunctional relationship between dominant and subordinate groups (men and women in her text), and the conflict it necessarily creates. This unresolved conflict is the legacy under which ‘Third World’ peoples still suffer.

Since an aspect of this inequality is that the dominant groups define the relationship — and usually legitimize this unequal relationship within the norms of both societies — a "mutually enhancing interaction is not possible" (p. 12). Instead, what generally occurs is that the superior groups, having thus defined the rules of engagement, reduce the inferior groups using labels such as ‘defective,’ ‘deficient,’ ‘ignorant,’ ‘inept,’ ‘lazy’. These culturally accepted standards of judgment — at least in the dominant culture — replace such outdated labels as ‘savages,’ ‘heathens,’ ‘beasts,’ and ‘animals.’ One explanation for why inferiors could no longer be viewed as wild animals is that the dominant culture could not afford to keep dangerous creatures in their midst. These animals had to be tamed. Therefore, in the minds of the dominant peoples, modernization was obligatory.

As in the past, this process of civilizing and modernizing was controlled by the civilized and modernized people; or in other words, the superior people. Shockingly, some scholars have testified that this process of modernization has instituted even more destruction of the ‘lesser-developed’ people and their cultures than at the hands of earlier colonial authorities (Bodley, 1975). Miller emphatically reminds us, "There is…no notion that superiors are present primarily to help inferiors, to impart to them their advantages and "desirable" characteristics. There is no assumption that the goal of the unequal relationship is to end the inequality; in fact, quite the reverse. A series of other governing tendencies are in force, and occur with a great regularity" (1986, p. 6). These governing tendencies manifest from the dominant group’s assumption that their way is the only way and that it is right and good, especially for their subordinates. "All morality confirms this view, and all social structure sustains it" (1986, p. 9).

During one of our international campaigns to raise awareness for the Burmese situation, I received an email from a western Medical Doctor. Obviously ignorant of Burma and its history, he declares:

As I read your comments about the current circumstances in Burma, I am reminded of Israel. Unlike Burma, which is largely homogeneous, Israel came together under terrific odds. Its success is a tribute to its ability to assimilate and be a melting pot and yet to forge out of that diversity a common goal. While Israel is certainly plagued by all the common human frailties, it continues to succeed in developing its economy, in being the Jewish homeland, and in mainstreaming itself in the world community. Burma, if its people could come together under a charismatic leader, might be able to throw off its yoke of oppression and begin to rebuild its infrastructure and eastern culture. But, it must first find that one leader who can bring disparate groups together. (Medical Doctor, email, January 2000)

Implicit in this statement is that unlike our western nations, who have managed to transcend the "human frailties," Burma is still suffering beneath its own inferior status, never making mention of the complexities of western involvement or the legacy of colonial rule. Instead of acknowledging the history of dominance and subordination — and Burma’s present relationship to this history — this letter suggests a mindset of developing like westerners have developed and exposes a psychological predisposition in which he believes that he knows what these people need to "come together…and begin to rebuild."

However, this western doctor makes several false claims that reveal his ignorance about the Burmese people and their history. Despite his claim that Burma is "largely homogeneous," although Burma is predominately Buddhist, it is reported to be a population with over 200 ethnic minorities, 100 languages and dialects, and several prominent religions. Worse still, when he implores the Burmese people to find "a charismatic leader," he is blatantly unaware of the leadership of 1991 Nobel Peace Prize winner Aung San Suu Kyi. ‘Daw Suu,’ as the Burmese call her, won this prestigious award for her pro-democracy work despite being held under house arrest by the military government, where she is still being held today. In addition, she follows in the footsteps of her beloved father and Burmese independence leader General Aung San, who was assassinated shortly before the British left Burma. To a great extent, both leaders have been able to "bring disparate groups together," despite the legacy of civil in-fighting and ethnic animosity.

If it was only so simple for Burma to "throw off its yoke of oppression" and join "the world community." But to understand this difficulty, one must have the ability to recognize that their perceptions are embedded in their belonging to the dominant group — "the world community" itself — and their relationship to inequality and oppression.

The western doctor’s email brings to mind a statement from another western Medical Doctor, Dr. Carl Hammerschlag, who after spending decades working with Native Americans, proclaimed: "Respect for other people’s experience and culture was essential before I could offer them anything from my knowledge or experience. How different the entire history of civilization would have been if the conquerors had only viewed the conquered as having knowledge and experience to be shared. Instead victors assume the conquered have nothing to tell them because they lost, which only reinforces the belief that there is only one viewpoint, one perspective on the way - the way to truth, to knowledge, to life" (Hammerschlag, 1988, p. 15). In stark contrast, this statement does not persuade the "conquered" to simply begin rebuilding their native cultures — as if this is even possible — it turns the relationship around and demands the "conquerors" to see their role in the destruction of these cultures.

This is an important shift. In the former doctor’s perception, the remedy serves to compound the conquered population’s already disabling status by placing the responsibility on them alone. In this way, the oppressed peoples’ purportedly deficient or defective qualities can become internalized through a torturous program of cultural indoctrination. This tragic consequence is all too common on the losing end of such an inequitable relationship:

Because it is seldom the case that a…preexisting culture is equally receptive to both styles or both ends of the continuum, one side is subtly but powerfully proclaimed the "right" (culturally sanctioned) way to speak….keenly aware that how they are speaking is seen as "wrong" [the "losers"] soon stop, or stop speaking in their own voice. This loss of voice, in turn, leads to a further set of destructive and erroneous attributions on the part of the "winning" sanctioned style, which sets in motion a complicated, ongoing series of dysfunctional actions and reactions. If the person whose loses [their] voice is silent, the absence of information invites would-be listeners to fantasize about its cause….Or, if the person who loses [their] voice does not remain silent but tries to speak in what she gathers is the proper mode, [their] attempt to speak a foreign language might be seen as calculating, constricted, or inauthentic. (Kegan, 1994, p. 213)

Seen in this light, indigenous cultures were forced either to surrender their own ways and find some place within modern society or continue their ways and risk ongoing persecution, or at best prohibition. If the oppressed peoples did submit to the development of personal psychological characteristics appropriate to the dominant group, they would eventually assimilate into the dominant culture. In other words, culturally, they would disappear. The characteristics which would lead to their psychological demise formed "a certain familiar cluster: submissiveness, passivity, docility, dependency, lack of initiative, inability to act, to decide, to think, and the like. In general, this cluster includes qualities more characteristic of children than adults - immaturity, weakness, and helplessness. If subordinates adopt these characteristics they are considered well-adjusted" (Miller, 1986, p. 7). Again, a common theme emerges that western man attempts to play God and refashion other people in his own image.

Maybe the most prominent example of this ethnocentric ambition presently is the drive to inculcate ‘native’ people into a modernized, globalized mentality through the process of acculturation. This issue is often discussed in anthropological literature, cross-cultural studies, and especially neo-liberal political agendas. One step before assimilation, this notion of acculturation is used as a justification by many western aid workers for their western policies and agendas. For many westerners, they still believe that acculturation — or the process of being adapted to new cultural patterns — is initiated and requested by the ‘native’ peoples themselves. Because it is assumed that western progress and standard of living are the measures of the good life, how can these people, wallowing in poverty, famine and homelessness, not want what we have to give them? Therefore, it naturally follows that they will reject what is presumably not working for them anymore — their old ways of living — and make attempts to move into a more modernized way of living so as to obtain a better life (Bodley, 1975; Doob, 1960; Maybury-Lewis, 1993).

Holding to the view that acculturation is not only beneficial to the people but desired by them gives consent for an onslaught of foreign projects and initiatives geared towards preparing these ‘lesser-developed’ people for a more modernized way of life. It could be something as simple as installing running water in their villages or as complex as political seminars for pro-democracy dissidents. But there is something fundamentally lacking in this equation, and that is that the ‘lesser-developed’ people might not be so eager to divest their traditional ways and autonomy despite their hardships. In fact, although westerners often have difficulty acknowledging this, these people have a different life-style based on different values and standards of well-being, and therefore may not want "to scrap their cultures [but] would rather pursue their own form of the good life unmolested" (Bodley, 1975, p. 14). Such people are not concerned with who is superior or inferior, they are concerned with survival and development according to their own ways of life, which often date back generations upon generations. If such people are left alone and undisturbed, they are unlikely to request acculturation or modernization. "Acculturation has always been a matter of conquest...refugees from the foundering groups may adopt the standards of the more potent society in order to survive as individuals. But these are conscripts of civilization, not volunteers" (cited Bodley, 1975, p. 14).

It may be impossible to believe that people suffering will resist such assistance. The truth is that in each situation we just do not know unless we ask. Asking requires a foundational relationship between two parties, despite their inequalities of power. When this relationship is unidirectional, from the ‘haves’ to the ‘have-nots,’ any kind of assistance will necessarily entail coercion, not collaboration. In this sense, as Woodruff (1996) declared, "it can be seen as a modern form of colonialism" (p. 387).

Derald Wing Sue, a pioneer in the field of Multicultural Counseling and Therapy (MCT), therefore cautions westerners of the dangers inherent in the helping relationships between dominant and subordinate groups. Although he believes that these helping relationships are often necessary and valuable, he expresses concern that their tenets of "freedom, rational thought, tolerance of new ideas, and equality and justice for all" will be ignored and will "be used as an oppressive instrument by those in power to maintain the status quo. In this respect, [helping] becomes a form of oppression in which there is an unjust and cruel exercise of power to subjugate or mistreat large groups of people" (Sue, 1981, p. 4). Sue and others remind us that these fundamental differences between peoples must be recognized and respected and that one-sided notions — like acculturation and assimilation — might only serve to exacerbate the differences even more.

I recently received a telling letter from a Burmese friend, Soe Htay, still living in exile in Mae Sot. In response to an article I had written on this very topic, he mused:

In the past, colonialism used to import three kinds of weapons: (1) Religious missionaries; (2) Merchants; and (3) Armies. Now…they send Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) to educate Eastern people with their culture. As you know, I know about myself more than others. Similarly, Burmese people know more about Burma than others. Burmese people have a lot of experience regarding Burmese history. Nevertheless, some Westerners carry [various] theories and formulas to change Burma. As if we are the people tested by them. They treat us like mice in a chemistry room. But, as you said, we have no choice. (Soe Htay, email, October 10, 2001)

Acting as if in a laboratory, western aid workers — motivated by a ‘genetically-modified’ ethnocentric worldview — use various learned methods to teach the ‘animals’ tricks of adjustment, development, and salvation. But does this ever really free the mice from their cages?

Now with the world so divided between winners and losers, rich and poor, developed and underdeveloped, First World and Third World countries — all a part, somehow, of an interconnected global community — issues like ‘permanent inequality’ become crucial to our functioning and survival. With the legacy of western domination and subsequent suffering of many ‘Third World’ nations, a question for us in the West to consider is how does this legacy of domination affect the present suffering of these ‘underdeveloped’ nations? In other words, what is the present relationship between the ‘winners’ and the ‘losers’?

Focusing on western humanitarian involvement in these ‘underdeveloped’ nations, immediately the issue of western domination arises. The concern is that western aid workers coming in to help the suffering people — suffering caused in so many cases by western oppression — are further perpetuating the oppression.

My friend, Soe Htay, remarked that during his time in exile he has grown frustrated, disappointed, and suspicious of western agendas for his people. Writing to me about his feelings regarding international aid workers and their influence on his people, one can feel his disillusionment:

At the present time, they don’t need to go dangerous forests, but to the Third World. They go to unstable countries. At this point, they don’t hunt wild animals, they work for so-called Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs). As a result, they get jobs, salaries, and social status, instead of treasures and African diamonds. Whereas during Colonialism, the Western authorities sent missionaries to the East so as to import western culture to other natives, now they mostly provide the poor people with many trainings according to capacity building programs. In my opinion, no one sacrifices without interest. They intend to handle policy if they can everywhere….They are too dangerous for the East, as well as for me. (Soe Htay, email, January 28, 2002)

Soe Htay’s distrust echoes a similar sentient of Paulo Freire’s (1970) when he writes about the "false generosity" expressed from individuals in the dominant group. "As a dimension of the [individual’s] sense of guilt….he attempts not only to preserve an unjust and necrophilic order, but to "buy" peace for himself" (p. 142). Is relieving this guilt one of the ‘sacrifices with interest’ Soe Htay was referring to?

Both Freire and Soe Htay are doubtful that westerners have the ability to sacrifice without an interest, and thereby act in solidarity with the ‘native’ peoples. However, it is not only this aspect of guilt due to past acts perpetrated in their name that might serve as hindrance in sharing a healthy, mutual relationship. There are many other conflicting interests involved such as personal gain, status, power, authority, and money. There is also a driving force which leads to feelings of entitlement of such interests, which then justifies the fulfillment of such interests, at all costs.

The most fundamental obstacle between truly mutual exchanges of different groups, as I stated previously, is the legacy of ethnocentric superiority in which the dominant group feels an obligation — moral, political, religious, or other — to defend the vulnerable people against notions they distrust. These dominant groups can then proclaim that they are acting in the ‘natives’ best interests. Accordingly, the oppressors "call themselves builders, and accuse the true builders of being destructive" (p. 143). But Freire asserts that the "true builders…[are] men who lived and are living the brave pursuit of man’s humanization" (p. 143). Usually, such men are to be found within their own native cultures since these are the men who can fully understand their unique conditions of oppression, and in order to secure their people’s survival must revolt against such oppression.

These very same men, seen from another perspective, are dangerous to the relationship between dominant and subordinate cultures. "To the extent that subordinates move toward freer expression and action, they will expose the inequality and throw into question the basis for its existence. And they will make the inherent conflict an open conflict" (Miller, 1986, p. 12). Therefore, "Dominant groups usually impede the development of subordinates and block their freedom of expression and action" (Maybury-Lewis, 1997, p. 7). Such freedom of expression and action, besides leading to open conflict, also tends to act as an obstacle towards the successful completion of development and training programs. Despite what the common logic on western aid has told us, what the ‘native’ people desire, what they perceive as progress and good, is not always the same as what western people value as progress and good. But despite this truth, time and time again the subordinate group eventually receives what is deemed appropriate and beneficial by the dominant group.

Due to these conditions of oppression, as a Burmese friend once said to me, "all NGOs are, with no exception, colonialistic, at the deepest psychological level" (Burmese friend, email, 2002). Implicating western aid workers unequivocally, it brings to mind the legacy of cultural modification and social engineering. In fact, in John Bodley’s (1975) hard-hitting cultural anthropology book, Victims of Progress, he refers to the deeply embedded attitudes which supported such ideologies as Social Darwinism and imperialism which still turn up in the "professional literature of cultural change" (p. 7). Calling western aid workers cultural "change agents" he attempts to illustrate the often tragic consequences of such changes. "Indeed, to many change experts, the ends appear to justify the means, regardless of the likelihood that outsiders will make ethnocentric judgments concerning ‘benefits,’ and in spite of the unpredictability of the long-run effects of change" (p. 109).

Since the old models of coercive cultural change have thus given way to this new form of cultural modification, western involvement now seeks to help "others to reform themselves." Using a warped method of behaviorist psychology, "French colonial authorities [found] that it was generally more advantageous to ‘conditionally’ eliminate undesirable customs…[but that] The secret was to make the change imperceptible" (Bodley, 1975, pp. 109-110). They found that there are "thousands of ways" of accomplishing the necessary change even when faced with opposition from the real desires of the native peoples. Attempting to find fool-proof methods of deceit, the French designed "what could be called the enlightenment approach, in which ‘reform’ was sought by convincing argument, example, and education - all aimed at showing how inferior native ways were and how advantageous it would be for the natives to abandon them in favor of superior French ways….as psychological preparation for modernization" (p. 110). Finally, it dawned on the western authorities that true cultural change could never come by force or coercion and must come from a genuine desire on the part of the native peoples. The question then is how to stimulate such desire amongst the people?

According to the French colonial authorities, "argument, example, and education" were the preferred methods. "In many countries schooling has been the prime coercive instrument of cultural modification and has proven to be a highly effective means of destroying self-esteem, fostering new needs, creating dissatisfactions, and generally disrupting traditional cultures" (p. 112). Often, education is cited as one of the most oppressive forces, and while in Thailand I heard this from many of my Burmese friends. They disliked and distrusted educational programs not because they dislike and distrust education, but because they dislike and distrust western-style education; simply because it is not their own style of education. In fact, many Burmese I knew were extremely interested in learning more about western culture, history, and politics, so it is not that they have some general vendetta against the west, as some claim, but that they wish to learn it on their own terms. What often happens is that "blueprints are being handed down from above, by individuals and agencies in the dominant culture who are making the basic policy decisions for a submissive target culture that ultimately has no power to resist" (p. 112). This is what elicits such dislike and distrust.

In Freire’s (1970) classic Pedagogy of the Oppressed, he discusses the abuses of what he calls a banking theory of education. This refers to the action of the dominant group maintaining hold on power while ostensibly providing service to the subordinate group. This banking style, where one group professes to have knowledge and as a "gift" deposits this knowledge into the accounts of those whom are considered ignorant and deprived, exposes a top-down approach of giving that reflects western society. From business to politics to education to the religious organization, western society is marked by this top-down, hierarchal model, despite claims of being thoroughly democratic. One must simply listen to individuals at the other end of this model to hear confirmation:

We simply cannot go to the laborers - urban or peasant - in the banking style, to give them "knowledge" or to impose upon them the model of the "good man" contained in a program whose content we have ourselves organized. Many political and educational plans have failed because their authors designed them according to their own personal views of reality, never once taking into account (except as mere objects of their action) the men-in-a-situation to whom their program was ostensibly directed….They [therefore] approach the peasant or urban masses with projects which may correspond to their own view of the world, but not to that of the people. They forget that their fundamental objective is to fight alongside the people for the recovery of the people’s stolen humanity, not to "win the people over" to their side. (Freire, 1970, pp. 82-83).

Freire, in speaking to individuals that intend to help struggling, ‘lesser-developed’ peoples, reminds them of the differences between authentic helpers and oppressors. Oppressors, as he defines them, are "ones who act upon men to indoctrinate them and adjust them to a reality which must remain untouched" (p. 83). That reality is generally the status quo reality - or otherwise known as western superiority, dominance, and ‘permanent inequality.’

Often this predisposition to an ethnocentric reality manifests quite innocently at first, but gradually develops into cynicism, and even racism. This has been called "retaliatory hostility" (Axelson, 1993, p. 44). Unfortunately, I witnessed such hostility several times among western aid workers on the Thai-Burma border. Ranging from subtle, cynical remarks to outright shocking accusations, these comments expose a raging conflict within one’s psyche. On the one hand, western aid workers feel that they are making enormous sacrifices to serve the people’s best interests, while on the other hand they feel loyal to their learned cultural norms and values. The tension of such opposing feelings often results in expressions exposing their latent hostility and predisposition of western superiority. I can recall such comments as "yeah, but it happens everywhere," "it’s only politics," "they seem to enjoy when something breaks down," "there is no thanks for trying to help people," and "they never appreciate what we have done for them."

Another unfortunate by-product of western ethnocentrism which I witnessed during my time in Asia was the marked cynicism of several Peace Corps volunteer I encountered. This cynicism reflects a deep-seated predisposition within western aid workers, which they bring with them along with their good intentions, enthusiasm, and initiative. This cynicism grows out of unrealistic ideals for their work, their impact on the people, and their relationships in general. Alarmingly, these ideals are perfect representations of such western values as development, progress, individualism, and self-actualization. These unrealistic ideals demonstrate the agenda of western superiority even if presented benevolently.

The cynicism in these situations had to do with a loss of belief either in their ability to do the work they intended, or their loss of belief in the people they were doing the work for and with. For different reasons these volunteers had realized that this helping relationship was not benefiting either party, and this dissonance resulted in negative feelings about their experience abroad. One can imagine how easily these feelings would result in stronger feelings of ethnocentrism. I can only imagine how this cynicism must feel to the people these westerners were involved with.

Robert Kegan (1982) calls this dissonance ‘crisis,’ and identifies it with the Chinese character which reads both as ‘danger’ and ‘opportunity.’ The danger is that "people do meet these experiences, and they suffer because of them…Our refusal to accept deviation from our plans or anticipation causes us pain….Any movement which sets us against the movement of life of which we are a part, in which we are ultimately implicated, to which we are finally obligated, will cause us pain" (pp. 265-266). The movement which necessarily "sets us against the movement of life" is the identification with our ‘superiority complex.’ In fact, it is not a movement at all but a rigid stance, frozen in psychological fear and xenophobia.

Although one side is frozen and stagnant, there is another side. We are reminded of Jung’s notion of the integrity of the psyche which implies an integration of two opposing sides of the self; one side is unconscious while another is conscious. As with the Peace Corps volunteers I encountered, their predisposed values and ideals of service, which were predominately unconscious, came into conflict with their conscious experience of different people and values, which bred cynicism manifested from an emerging dissonance of the self. Integration demands that the self face this dissonance — or crisis of the two sides meeting head on — and find some way to successfully negotiate this impasse. The successful negotiation of the impasse requires the individual to meet the other side of freeze and danger which Kegan reminds us is the opportunity for movement and transformation. "The crisis is in the transformation of meaning, the costs of evolution, and the death we hear may be, as much as anything, the death of the old self that is about to be left behind….We may hear grief, mourning, and loss, but it is the dying of a way to know the world which no longer works, a loss of an old coherence with no new coherence immediately present to take its place. And yet a new balance again and again does emerge….When disequilibrium is weathered it can begin to lead to a new, more articulated, better organized construction of the world which differentiates and reintegrates the understanding of the prior balance" (pp. 265-267). Therefore, successfully negotiating one’s prior balance opens an individual to a more whole self, capable of finding alternative approaches in which western aid workers might be able to channel their ideals of helping into their work and relationships, without demanding anything in return.

This view is an optimistic one. It provides us with a perspective-shifting consideration of what it could mean to acknowledge one’s predispositions, surrender them in the face of "what has happened and is happening," and reorient oneself to a new way of perceiving difference. How difficult it is to negotiate this balance. How difficult it seems to respect difference and not perceive different people as lesser people. How difficult it truly is to form appropriate, reciprocal helping relationships. Instead, it seems, we are faced with a multitude of westerners that are propagating a predisposition of ethnocentric superiority. It is what Soe Htay referred to when he lamented the intention of western authorities to "handle policy if they can everywhere." Everywhere?

With the breakdown of such explicitly superior justifications for world dominance, it has become exceedingly difficult for western authorities to openly control policy everywhere. However, it does not mean that they do not try. It just means that the justifications for implementing such policies are more discreet, often veiled in humanitarian interests. The cultural modification policies that have often been used by western humanitarian organizations are based on the philosophy that "nothing short of a pervasive social transformation will suffice: a wholesale metamorphosis of habits, a wrenching reorientation of values concerning time, status, money, work; an unweaving and reweaving of the fabric existence itself" (cited Bodley, 1975, pp. 106-107).

Exiled in Thailand, Soe Htay has been forced into a subordinate role, at mercy of foreign interests, and thus speaks first-hand as to the effects of such a "wholesale metamorphosis" of his people's habits. Changing these habits are not necessarily in his people’s best interests. Therefore, his disillusionment reflects his powerlessness against a ‘pervasive social transformation’ of his Burmese culture and directly implicates western humanitarian organizations and individuals working as change agents along the Thai-Burma border.

Our cultural workers must serve the people with great enthusiasm and devotion, and they must link themselves with the masses, not divorce themselves from the masses. In order to do so, they must act in accordance with the needs and wishes of the masses. All work done for the masses must start from their needs and not from the desire of any individual, however well-intentioned. It often happens that objectively the masses need a certain change, but subjectively they are not yet conscious of the need, not yet willing or determined to make the change. (Mao Tse Tung, 1967, pp. 186-187)

 

When I arrived on the Thai-Burma border in September 1999, there were several western individuals who had come to Mae Sot as I had come; not through any organization, but for various reasons, and had remained teaching English to the Burmese. I cannot speak to the intention of any of these individuals, but I can say that my intention was simply to support the struggling Burmese in any way I could, based on what they needed, what they wanted from me, and what I could give. Consequently, I began teaching several classes a day to local Burmese groups that sought English instruction. From what I gathered, over the past few years (in which many Burmese exiles had arrived to Mae Sot), numerous western individuals had volunteered their support in the same way. Moreover, most, if not all of these individuals who chose to come independently were not earning money for their services.

This organic process allowed for great flexibility in respecting and meeting the needs of the often distinct and disparate Burmese groups. This protected the Burmese from being thrust together with individuals whom they were not willing or ready to work together with, which might lead to a deepening of difference between occasionally adversarial groups. This is a major concern as there has been ethnic in-fighting and civil war since independence, and therefore deep distrust and animosity between some groups. Putting this into a larger perspective in terms of western domination, Maybury-Lewis (1997) noted: "Myanmar is thus a classic example of Southeast Asian complexity. It is a country where various civilizations meet. Its border, arbitrarily set by a colonial power, inhibit contact between peoples who traditionally interacted with each other and mandate contact between peoples who have traditionally fought each other. The British administration sowed divisiveness between the Burmese and the other peoples of the country…leading predictably to endless warfare" (p. 51).

These independent classes also allowed for the students to dictate their own needs, empowering them even if only in a small way. For example, within this structure, they chose the times they were available for class, the class size, who they felt comfortable with in class, where they felt comfortable holding class, what areas of English they wished to focus on, and even who they wanted as teachers. An important by-product of this learning model was that it protected the students from having to travel to a separate location for their classes. For the Burmese exiles in Thailand, even leaving their homes means risking arrest and deportation, so holding classes at their homes and offices allows them the privacy and security to study uninhibited.

I also believe that a more open and responsive learning structure allowed them to take their place as equal partners in the learning relationship - as different yet fully capable human beings, with their own unique culture, values, skills, and ways of doing things. And certainly, with their own language, stories, and wisdoms to share with others. In fact, although I refer to them in this section as my ‘students,’ first and foremost I consider them my friends.

After some months of teaching, several of my students informed me that an American-based organization, Open Societies Institute (OSI), was planning to establish a structured system of English training. Their intention, I learned, was to build a school, bring in teachers, and provide the Burmese people in the area with access to a quality education. Sounds good from the outside. But whose idea was this? Who defines the ‘quality education’? And what will this quality education look like?

My students did not know. What they reported was that although they heard that certain OSI workers had spoken with the decision-making authorities of several Burmese groups, they — the prospective students — had not been petitioned. They certainly had not requested it. Moreover, when asked about their feelings towards this project many were hesitant to respond due to their insecurity on the border area. Even though they were ambivalent about the prospect, nearly all of my students went to the intensive placement testing as they heard that OSI was paying students to come. One of my students and good friend, Min Zaw, who had asked me to teach him the lyrics of Pink Floyd’s The Wall, wrote in his final essay on the OSI examination — a question which he did not understand — "We don’t need your education. We don’t need your thought controlling." He failed.

There was, in fact, great concern among my students and friends that the OSI education project would be simply another example of conditional giving that they felt was hurting them. In the worst way, they felt robbed of their own capacities, yet, they were dependent on these humanitarian organizations for their survival. Literally, without the funding, health and housing services, and opportunities made available to them by such organizations, they would be left only with the choice to return to Burma, a country from which they had already fled for their lives, or to remain in exile under constant threat. Choosing to rely on these international aid organizations, then, was a matter of pure survival. For them, it was not merely an issue of ‘development’ or ‘relief’ — western humanitarian terms — for them it was a matter of their lives. Therefore, in the minds of vulnerable individuals, such attractive offers might serve as safeguards from the horrors or exile.

Often they do. Thai police are constantly searching, raiding, and arresting Burmese exiles throughout Thailand; whether at home, at work, in the markets or in the streets. Any kind of foreign document is valuable and even more valuable is foreign representation of any kind. I experienced this first-hand as both my wife and I, westerners, were constantly acting as protection for the Burmese we were associated with. As only two individuals, we were called on countless times to go to the Mae Sot jail, to the immigration detention center, to the border crossing, and to the hospital, in order to act as security for the exiled people.

OSI is simply one of many organizations working in the border area, however, because of this project, I began questioning the integrity of their operations. Open Societies Institute, as part of the Soros foundations network, is a network of organizations that operates in some 30 countries around the world. On their website, they report that they are "a private operating and grantmaking foundation that seeks to promote the development and maintenance of open societies around the world by supporting a range of programs in the areas of educational, social, and legal reform, and by encouraging alternative approaches to complex and often controversial issues" (Open Society Institute website). Because in this instance OSI overlooked the alternative networks of educational programs already established in Mae Sot, I began to wonder what their vision was for ‘open societies.’

It seems to me that a world of open societies is a noble vision for our changing times, yet I wondered if theirs was yet another attempt at implementing western rule. Certainly, OSI has the ability to provide so much support for the Burmese population in exile, and in some ways already do. In fact, according to the Open Societies website, "In 1997, the organizations of the Soros foundations network spent a total of $428.4 million on philanthropic activities. The largest portion of these expenditures was devoted to education" (Open Society Institute Website). So after discussing the education project with my friends and students, I decided to speak to one of the OSI workers about considering the way these support services are provided, and about finding some way we could all work together. My desire never manifested. To my knowledge, none of the OSI workers that had come to Mae Sot to implement this project initiated any contact with the volunteer teachers and their students, or to discuss the concerns, challenges, opportunities, and plans of all parties concerned.

What I had learned through my Burmese friends and students while I was there was that having spent their entire lives under an authoritarian regime implementing policies and operating systems regardless of the people’s concerns, the last thing they want is more of this top-down rule. So receiving this same structure — imported from the west without the proper regard for their unique cultures, languages, religions, and educational needs — will not help to rebuild and restructure their society in a way that empowers the people who belong to this society. No matter what the justifications may be from outside interests, the Burmese exiles desire a new model of organization. In much the same way, a desire for a new model of organization inspired the Burmese people to revolt in 1988 against the authoritarian rule of their military government; the same regime under which they suffer today. It is a cruel irony that in exile they must face a similar arrangement by individuals and groups that are trying to help them heal.

I know that my friends, at least, wanted to break this cycle of oppression and helplessness. When I met them, they wanted a teacher who was sensitive and responsive to their precarious situation. They reported that they wanted to learn English by speaking with English speakers. They wanted to learn international relations by dealing with international people. They wanted to learn different things, many of which will be absent from a systematic training course in the English language, but are often present in simple, informal relationships with people from different places.

Realistically, there is no way to bring all the diverse Burmese people together under one system and expect them to be standardized, using a set curriculum to do this. This would lead to further pressure on an already volatile environment, one in which the people are for the first time in their lives free to express and learn. At this point, what seems important is to offer a safe and open learning environment, one in which the students are comfortable to work, share, and express themselves. What is necessary if this difficult struggle on the border area is to ever succeed is a new relationship of support, reflected in all aspects of western involvement. In regards to education, one step towards this new relationship might be through the cultivation of an interactive learning process.

Instead, OSI went ahead with their plan and are now fulfilling their objective of providing a structured, systematic, and western-style education to exiles. Although to some, this may still sound like a successful project on the surface, underneath, the process displays a complete disregard for the Burmese. Maria Varela once declared that we must respect "the way local people think and work and not impose an organizing pattern that is foreign to them." Through determined work to fulfill pre-established initiatives, the very people these initiatives propose to help were left out of the planning and implementing process. This disregard can and will lead to distrust. Foreign influences have long impacted the Burmese people and one cannot underestimate the affect these external organizations have had and the distrust they elicit.

It seems so natural that western assistance be conditional, in the sense that we give aid based on our values, with conditions. Historically, this is the way it has been. There are historical explanations for this structure of support, but in the end, the helping relationship is affected. "Humanitarian organizations…have in fact straitjacketed themselves. They are limited to addressing only the effects of crisis, not its causes, and they are limited to working with a specific package of tools, namely, those which conform to the principles of impartiality and neutrality. Of course, these straitjackets are there not only as limitations but also as safeguards: to protect the rights of individuals caught up in crisis, regardless of their past and their affiliations, and to preserve the ability of the agency to continue to deliver assistance and protection in the future" (Walker, 1997, p. 78). Oftentimes the people receiving the assistance and protection do not want it in this way, however well-intentioned it may be. Ultimately, many indigenous activists — themselves aid recipients — have claimed this ‘support’ is simply "another brick in the wall."

According to the Irrawaddy, a monthly magazine and online journal covering Burma and Asia, "The increase in the number of aid agencies, international non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and Western donors coming to the Thai-Burma border reflects not only the scale of the crisis, but also a growing international awareness of Burma’s struggle to emerge from its status as one of the world’s poorest and most repressed countries….With the expansion in the number and scope of projects now available, there is also growing confusion — and suspicion — over the objectives and agendas of organizations that have begun appearing on the scene" (Aung Zaw & Moncrief, 2001, p. 12). Having reviewed the history of western involvement abroad, confusion and suspicion among the recipients of such aid may be necessary for the protection and survival of their native cultures.

In an Irrawaddy editorial, "Training: For Whose Sake?", this issue is raised and the agendas of the western groups supporting the Burmese exiles are questioned:

Over the years, there has been concern among exiles about the tendency of some foreign organizations to emphasize divisive issues….The real concern here…is the danger that the mistrust that already exists among various ethnic groups-and between Burmese and foreigners-could actually deepen, rather than heal, as a result of apparently discriminatory policies….A more immediate concern facing many who have taken part in training programs is the lack of opportunity to actually apply what they have learned. This has led many to ask if "empowerment" - a term frequently used in training sessions - simply means employment by an NGO (often the one that provided the training in the first place). Many former trainees especially resent the fact that they tend to be given only the most menial tasks, such as making coffee for guests. Denied any real responsibilities, these people often end up feeling that they were trained merely to assist in the more "important" work of foreigners. (Aung Zaw, 2001, p. 7)

 

The distrust to which this editorial speaks arises out of a model of helping between different cultures which rests on ‘permanent inequality,’ instead of ingredients such as reciprocity and equity. Obviously, contact between cultures is necessarily "a reciprocal affair, no matter how one-sided the exchange is" (Doob, 1960, p. 109). Yet, a western aid worker, unable to detach their perceptions from their disposition of superiority, "is not likely to be in a learning mood. He considers the people whom he [helps] to be ‘inferior,’ ‘primitive,’ ‘underdeveloped,’ ‘inexperienced,’ or ‘uncivilized,’ or else he knows that they need, perhaps even ask for, civilization. In important matters, consequently, he does not even visualize them as potential instructors. Their ‘competence’ in this respect he would rate low; clearly he does not ‘identify’ himself with them; and he is not interested in whether or not they would have him change. In addition, the situations in which more and less civilized people usually meet prescribe that the outsider be the teacher and that the insider, willingly or unwillingly, be the pupil" (Doob, 1960, pp. 109-110).

This simply cannot work among even benevolent notions of superiority such as teaching, training, or healing. "When subordinates show the potential for, or even more dangerously have developed other characteristics — let us say intelligence, initiative, assertiveness — there is usually no room available within the dominant framework for acknowledgement of these characteristics" (Maybury-Lewis, 1993, p. 7). In other words, the dominant groups feel threatened. Necessarily then the ‘development’ and ‘empowerment’ which western aid workers speak about is only within their pre-established worldview. Inevitably, "if one’s identification is with the dominant group, it is ‘normal’ to continue in this pattern. Even though most of us do not like to think of ourselves as either believing in, or engaging in, such domination, it is, in fact, difficult for a member of a dominant group to do otherwise. But to keep on doing these things, one need only behave ‘normally.’ It follows from this that dominant groups generally do not like to be told about or even quietly reminded of the existence of inequality" (p. 8). Therefore, as western aid workers, it is exceedingly difficult to remove oneself from an ethnocentric predisposition. For an aid recipient, raising this issue of inequality is liable to threaten your security and isolate you from the support you so desperately need to survive. Hence, the conflict.

Along with concerns regarding international involvement is the fear that what is confusion and suspicion now will soon lead to deadly conflict. Dominant groups obviously try to avoid open conflict since it might expose the inequality inherent in the relationship between the two groups. But what looks like dissidence and rebellion to the dominant groups may be demands for survival by the subordinate groups. In other words, in asking for their basic human dignity and rights, the subordinate groups might be overstepping boundaries — established by the dominant group — and disrupting the power dynamics. Therefore, dominant groups tend to regard any questioning or challenging of the status quo as threatening, and suppress open dissenters by various means. (Maybury-Lewis, 1993, p. 9).

This could mean that people’s traditional ways of living might be perceived as threatening. This could also mean that anytime someone does not agree with a policy being placed upon them, they might be suppressed. This sounds dangerously similar to authoritarian rule and according to some Burmese, happens regularly with western aid organizations. A "common problem cited by [Burmese] refugees who have worked with NGOs is that their western ‘partners’ wield total control" (Aung Zaw & Moncrief, 2001, p. 13). One refugee confided to the Irrawaddy, "‘We have good projects, but they [Western NGOs] always give excuses for not funding them….In fact, they want to hijack our project and run it by themselves’" (Aung Zaw & Moncrief., 2001, p. 13). Just as in the days of colonialism, the notions of reciprocity and equity are irrelevant. This ‘permanent inequality’ breeds contempt and a climate ripe for corruption, betrayal, and vengeance.

Although many aid recipients find themselves fighting for their survival, they are at the same time growing and developing as individuals, as communities, and as collective groups. The fact that they find themselves in desperate situations needing assistance does not mean that they are inferior people, it means that they are people in a crisis situation, with the potential for both danger and opportunity. Moreover, they are a unique people usually struggling against the destruction of their indigenous ways and the forces of acculturation. However, in facing the destruction of their indigenous ways, subordinate peoples face a much greater challenge from the dominant peoples than just ‘the forces of acculturation.’ There is an intricate web of human relationships which because of their unique dynamics are working in an unjust manner. Carol Gilligan (1982) writes that "Moral problems are problems of human relations….Relationship requires connection. It depends…on the capacity for empathy or the ability to listen to others and learn their language or take their point of view" (pp. xix-xx). If this relationship does not form, conflict and destruction seem inevitable.

A dubious consequence of this intricate web of relationships are helpers that intend to use their position of superiority to aid the people. I refer to them as having the "Beyond Rangoon" syndrome, which is when westerners recognize their place in the dominant-subordinate relationship and try to use their privileged position to assist the unprivileged. This is certainly a noble purpose. Yet, many of these westerners do not consider that in so using their privileged status they are relying solely on their western values to achieve their ends, which influences others living within different value systems. In fact, many of these individuals never even consider that there are other value systems. Viewing situations so one-sided westerners often look at their task as a romantic adventure in which they might be able to achieve victory for the underdogs, without risking their security all that much. However, because some of the western values used are individual-based and rooted in independence, other people involved in their scheme are often put at risk without due consideration. This could set up an awkward and even dangerous situation for their unprivileged accomplices.

In an article entitled "With Friends Like These…", Aung Zaw, a Burmese journalist, writes: "Burma’s pro-democracy movement has attracted a wide array of friends and foes. After more than a decade in exile, many dissidents are finding it difficult to tell the difference" (Aung Zaw, 2001, p. 14). The article contrasts three different western aid workers -Rachel Goldwyn, James Mawdsley, and Stephanie Lee - and their interactions with the Burmese exiles.

Rachel Goldwyn is one such example of the "Beyond Rangoon" syndrome. According to those who knew her, she arrived as a backpacker from England enthusiastic about supporting the Burmese people. After some time working with Burmese in Thailand, she decided to enter Burma and to use her position as a westerner to raise awareness for the Burmese cause. She protested blatantly in downtown Rangoon and was subsequently arrested and sentenced to seven years in Burmese prison. This sentence is not so severe when considering that the Burmese military government is notorious for sentencing pro-democracy dissidents to lengthy prison terms, and its citizens for such minor ‘infractions’ as meeting in a group larger than five (5 years), possessing a fax machine without a government permit (15 years), or publicly voicing a political opinion (20 years) (Human Rights Documentation Unit).

Before Goldwyn was arrested she became involved with Burma’s underground (UG) movement. Unable to differentiate her western values from the Burmese, she put many people in jeopardy due to her careless and reckless behavior. According to the Irrawaddy article, "some UG members would meet foreigners in secret locations in Burma. Following these often nervous and negligent foreigners, intelligence officers would pursue them and later apprehend activists, putting them in prison for years" (Aung Zaw, 2001, p. 15). Of course, unlike Goldwyn who made newspaper headlines around the world, no one ever hears about these imprisoned Burmese activists. And also unlike Goldwyn who was released after just three months, the Burmese sentences are never commuted.

As one Burmese activist put it, Goldwyn and others like herself "made headlines and became heroes but we are in trouble" (Aung Zaw, 2001, p. 15). She was able to return home to England where she can enjoy her life, her family, and her work. The Burmese are still living under military rule and severe oppression. Had she considered her values in relationship to the Burmese she might have thought about alternative ways of raising awareness for the Burmese cause. I wonder if she even consulted any Burmese at all before she made the decision to demonstrate for their cause. She is not Burmese and any attempts to join in their movement necessitates deliberation and full awareness of the conflict inherent in such attempts. It seems she did not consider this but instead relied on her privilege of being an English citizen to protect her from the consequences of her action. Unfortunately, the Burmese are not protected.

James Mawdsley, also a British citizen, crossed illegally three times into Burma until the Burmese military government finally sentenced him to a prison term of 17 years. Assuming that his sentence would never be completed (he served 300 days before being released in October 2000), he gained worldwide attention for his efforts to achieve freedom in Burma. However, Burmese exiles are now increasingly skeptical of his motivations for his seemingly courageous acts. Upon his return to England, he signed a book deal worth a reported 140,000 English pounds, and is now seeking a career in politics. As in the Goldwyn incident, the Burmese ask, what exactly did his imprisonment do for us?

One former political prisoner said, "If we received as much attention as he did there would be no political prisoners in our country" (Aung Zaw, 2001, p. 15). And another, Ko Tate, founder of Assistance Association for Political Prisoners (AAPP), said, "Mawdsley did not suffer like us and he won’t understand us. He may be a hero at home but his services and motivation are questionable" (Aung Zaw, 2001, p. 15). As fellow western aid workers, it is vital that we consider why Mawdsley’s actions elicited such distrust from these Burmese.

For one thing, while British, American, and Australian politicians lobbied for Mawdsley’s release, they neglected to do the same for the other 2,000+ Burmese political prisoners still languishing in Burmese prisons. Furthermore, since his release, although Mawdsley has remained active in the Burmese cause, many Burmese are suspicious of his agenda. Part of the distrust could be a normal reaction of indignity by the Burmese who are suffering with no freedoms or liberties as they watch this westerner walk in, make headlines, and leave, with no change in the status of their country. Another part could have little to do with Mawdsley himself. It could be that this experience reeked of inequality, and is simply unfair. In this case, ethnocentrism is so strong that it values one white, western man’s life over 50 million Burmese lives. While western leaders will exercise power to free one man, they neglect an entire country, one whose suffering they helped create by ethnocentric policies and practices in the first place.

Western aid workers are currently involved with the Burmese to provide aid, development, education, and skills training. This is indeed quite a confusing situation made all the more so by the presence of these workers, many of whom still identify with their historic notions of western ethnocentrism, but it is more than that, for we all are bred with ethnocentric notions. Westerners have used and are using their power, driven by these ingrained notions of superiority, to reproduce ‘lesser-developed’ countries and peoples in the fashion of the West. This great power is a legacy of western dominance, and therefore, unless western aid workers recognize this legacy and identify it as such, they, too, become emissaries for ‘permanent inequality.’

In contrast, Aung Zaw’s article briefly discusses Stephanie Lee, also a British citizen, who like Mawdsley and Goldwyn, arrived on the Thai-Burma border as a traveler and stayed to help the Burmese. However, according to individuals she worked and lived with at a refugee camp, Lee "was sincere. Her love and understanding was admirable. It came from her heart." One woman, who reported she has met "many arrogant and patronizing foreigners," said that with Lee, "I never felt as though she was white and I am brown. No one at the camp felt like she acted above us. We learned a lot from her" (Aung Zaw, 2001, p. 15). Lee, who reportedly acted from her heart yet sensitive to those around her, served as a representative not solely of the west, but of our world.

In this way, Lee seems to exemplify an authentic helper. Such helpers are individuals who, although they might not share the same backgrounds, views, or values with those they are assisting, and who might even find their situation troublesome and disheartening, like Carl Rogers (1961) realize that "I [can] learn from these experiences in ways that change me, that make me a different, and, I think, a more responsive person" (cited Axelson, 1991, p. 154). This ability leads to authentic cross-cultural relationships which entail relevant, flexible, and meaningful assistance and support. It also yields conscious identification with one’s own culture and the understanding and respect of difference.

I had an experience involving an American woman who came to visit Mae Sot. I believe this experience points in the opposite direction; to conflict bred from identification with difference. She had just arrived from spending time in Dharmsala, India where she had been working with Tibetan refugees. She was interested in doing a documentary on Burmese ex-political prisoners and was trying to get a feel for what the situation was. That is what she told us the morning we met at our house.

Later that same day she returned to our house, a house in which Sarah and I shared with several Burmese student activists, upset and afraid about what she had gotten herself into. She rushed in with a printout of an email in her hand from a friend back in the U.S. who warned her to be careful. In the email her friend said that he had been shot at while in Thailand filming a documentary and that he knew of two other filmmakers who had been "gunned down" in Thailand. What she did not tell us initially, however, was that he also added that this occurred many years ago in northeastern Thailand in the Golden Triangle region, not at the Burmese border. But this email distressed her and she immediately launched into a diatribe against our naivety and carelessness at being so openly involved with the dissident and illegal Burmese. She even made reference to the offices and houses being bugged. Astounded by this, I asked her, "What makes you think he knows better than we do?" To this she replied, "Who are you? What do you do?", and after catching a breath she added, "Well, he is 50 years old and has been doing this for 30 years and is, well, in the know. So, what do you know?"

How could I answer such a question? She had not asked this before when we had met, and during breakfast, two of our housemates Min Zaw and Yee Zaw, both Burmese exiles, would have been able to answer her questions, but again, she never asked them. Something seemed ‘off’ about this encounter, so I responded, "Well, I’m working here now and these are my friends, whom I spend everyday with, and surely we don’t know everything, but we know what we are doing, and we know that what we are doing is constructive. So there’s no need for fear." She retorted, "I’m not afraid!" She said she just did not want to be naïve, like in Dharmsala. I simply said, "This isn’t Dharmsala."

This conversation went on as she inquired, "So, how long have you been here? And what organization are you with? Oh, so how long have you been working with the Burmese cause?" It got to a point where I was feeling interrogated by her, a person, like ourselves, that had ostensibly come to support the Burmese people. Quite annoyed, I told her that "this is isn’t some adventure movie, this is a real situation, and sure, there are informers and spies, but paranoia will do no good. We are doing good, uplifting work here, and we have nothing to be afraid of." At this, she merely shook her head in a ghost-like manner, uttering softly, meekly, almost tortured, "You don’t understand me. You just don’t understand me."

This might have very well been true. At some point Sarah and I informed her that even being here with us, since she was afraid to be around our Burmese friends, might be dangerous for her since we believed we were blacklisted from entering Burma, and therefore the Burmese military intelligence officers, working undercover on the border area, certainly knew who we were. She retorted, "No blame, no blame on either side. But if I would’ve known this I would’ve never come here to meet you guys, because you are implicating me and I want to go to Burma.’ We were implicating her? Who did she intend to make this documentary about? Who did she think she was going to be working with in making it? I assumed that, as she had said, she wanted to make it about Burmese ex-political prisoners and therefore she necessarily would be working with Burmese people. That would mean that she would have to at least speak with them, and they are the ones that are in danger and monitored, we were only there to support. In other words, this was not our cause.

Soon I realized her intentions. What she really longed for was to travel in Burma, and indeed, we had implicated her. Of course she was in a revolutionary area (the Thai-Burma border) and must not have considered the implications of such a visit. She then confessed that because of her work in Dharmsala, she could not travel to Tibet because she would have implicated people there and "couldn’t have that on my karma." She did not want this to happen with the Burmese, since she wanted to go to Burma and "act like a stupid tourist," with the intention of meeting people to learn about their situation and get some ideas for her documentary. All around her were thousands upon thousands of Burmese people, yet she was worried about not getting into Burma so she could find out the Burmese situation. Did she realize what would happen, while in Burma, if she was caught speaking to someone about their situation? Like Goldwyn before her, she probably never considered that even a taxi driver caught speaking to a foreigner about the ‘wrong subjects’ could be sentenced to a long prison term. Political dissidents are in an even more dangerous position. If they are sought by the military regime, oftentimes their whole families will be arrested and imprisoned, even after they themselves are caught. So, if her intention was really to find out the situation she had come to the right place. In Thailand, although not completely safe, the Burmese have much more liberty to speak about and work for their pro-democracy cause.

This telling encounter shocked me into realizing that even with the best intentions and sacrifices, western individuals are still plagued by a bias of superiority. Although I believe that she really wanted to help and do some good, these noble intentions were distorted while she interacted with such vulnerable individuals. Moreover, her experiences in Dharmsala, working with Tibetan refugees, seemed only to fortify her intentions without simultaneously raising issues such as ‘What am I doing here?’, ‘What or whom am I doing this for?’, and ‘What does this mean to the people I am involved with?’ Instead, she was concerned about her own personal interests and well-being, which is certainly appropriate, but not at the expense of the endangered Burmese.

This was so common amongst western aid workers in Mae Sot that I could not help but explore this issue deeper. This attitude is not only specific to Mae Sot. It occurs among Peace Corps volunteers, independent travelers, non-governmental organizations, United Nations staff, Christian missionaries, and nearly all western aid organizations. Unfortunately for us all, it is endemic.

The earth is, in a cosmic sense, becoming one huge distressed community. Social work educators, planners, developers, and practitioners from developed countries must call for catharsis and more. Social work professionals from less-developed and underdeveloped countries may look to professionals from more-developed countries to lead the way in social development….[But] it is important to question how much social workers from more-developed countries can be relied on for leadership. So lesser-developed countries want to go where the more-developed countries have been? Are social workers from more-developed countries morally and spiritually prepared for such leadership? (Woodruff, 1996, pp. 386-387)

 

When we consider the first question that Woodruff raises above, we simultaneously face the fundamental problem of western superiority and the legacy of western domination. For the assumption that ‘lesser-developed’ peoples and nations necessarily want what we have is false. Yet, judging from the projects and programs of most western aid organizations one would think otherwise. In my estimation, there seems to be very little difference between organizations at home and abroad. This judgment is a general one based on my experiences in Thailand and the limited resources I could find on this issue, and may be deemed by many western aid workers to be an unfair one.

How unfair is it? There were very few times that I personally met western aid workers who were considering the ramifications of what they were doing. It seemed to me that western aid workers were not considering the underlying agenda of what ‘help’ means between two very different groups; theirs being dominant and the other being subordinate. Oftentimes western aid workers simply do not look deeper, but prefer to focus on their tasks at hand thereby minimizing or eliminating the complexities of their involvement. They generally seem to believe that since they are helping, providing ‘necessary’ aid, development, and/or training to desperate people, that what they are doing is right and good. In not exploring their predispositions, western aid workers often miss the cause of such desperation. Being involved in such unbalanced relationships generates an unacknowledged crisis which demands engagement.

Since westerners travel to foreign, often dangerous environments to help suffering people, thereby sacrificing their lives at home to be of service, questioning their intention of service often seems disrespectful. So many times I can remember feeling irreverent for simply considering our intentions in conversations with fellow western aid workers and travelers. These sacrifices are indeed great from their perspective, but as Soe Htay believes, "no one sacrifices without interest." So few, it seems, question their ‘interests’ beyond a superficial desire ‘to be of service’ and therefore miss out on the predicament that their involvement with ‘Third World’ people raises. Their conviction to help seems to obscure such critical questions which arise.

In addition, I believe that many western aid workers do not examine their underlying assumptions and agendas because they are afraid of what they will find. But, I argue, in the not looking, they are propagating the same process of oppression which has caused the destruction they have come to combat in the first place. Persuaded either by empathy or guilt, they cannot see that they might not be part of the solution, but part of the problem.

I, too, began with this superficial desire ‘to be of service,’ not able to clarify what that actually meant to me or to the people I would provide such service for. Because of my close relationships with the Burmese people I was working with I was challenged on a daily basis to consider what it meant for me to be living there and providing service. In fact, before I arrived in Mae Sot, I had never adequately questioned the assumption that such assistance was needed and valued by the aid recipients, such as the Burmese in Thailand.

Like many, I had accepted the inequalities of the status quo common logic. "Most of us are strongly in favor of contact among the peoples of the world and regard the encouragement of study [and work] abroad as one of the best ways of facilitating such contact. In some cases, however, it may become one of the forces antithetical to cultural preservation, acting as a vehicle for the uncritical diffusion of Western culture and therefore the erosion of non-Western life-styles" (cited Pedersen, 1985, p. 31). Faced with this realization, I had to concede that in traveling to Thailand without posing this essential question put me in with other westerners as cultural invaders.

As soon as I realized this major blind spot in our western culture, I looked first within myself and examined my own predisposition and involvement. Simultaneously, I looked around Mae Sot and observed that most westerners seemed to be acting as cultural invaders. Based on the relationships I witnessed between westerner aid workers and the Burmese, and the conversations I had with individuals on both ends of the relationship, I discovered that the legacy of western superiority, however carefully concealed, was still present.

The interests to which Soe Htay referred were prominent in reflecting such western predispositions. Most western aid workers I met had come as trained professionals — doctors, nurses, teachers, human rights observers, NGO workers — and had difficulty, it seemed, in detaching themselves from their work and their work-related objectives. As Soe Htay observed:

Many Westerners come to the East. Some are individuals, some are small NGOs, some are genuine NGOs and some are fake NGOs. For individuals, they come here to get exposure, to get experience, to get jobs, to hide for many reasons, etc. Most individuals who return from East make money with their experience they got in the East. They are not too dangerous, but they could create misinformation about other people. For small NGOs, they come here for business. They learn the troubles, needs, and tragedy in order to write submissions. If they get [certai