Crickets, cool summer nights, peaches and plums, no bombs, at least not here, it could go on like this forever. But in places not so far away from here women are being flogged for godknowswhat transgression by mullahs or other self-righteous men who see women as little more than breeding machines or, god forbid, mysterious and slightly scary objects of lust.
Wazhma Frogh who is a social activist studying in the UK wrote about this. I started the day reading her article (Internalizing Impunity in Afghanistan/Daily Times, Pakistan, May 23). It left me feeling angry and impotent. She writes about the impunity with which bullies, armed and dangerous, are left to call the shots in many places in this country. Here, with the crickets and peaches, I live in an entirely different world.
There are other, smaller, acts that reek of greed, attempts at self enrichment, unless they are to keep a family alive – how would you know? It reminds me of the moral development questions that we asked to children in (then) war-torn Lebanon. We wanted to test the hypothesis that children who grow up in an environment where the gun and money determine what is lawful and what is not would be amoral or at least behind in their moral development.
We asked them, what if you stole medicine for someone who could not pay and would otherwise die. Would that be OK? These were Kohlberg’s questions, later unmasked by Carol Gilligan as biased – they stem from a time when we thought male development was the norm, which makes women by definition abnormal. I think many men here still believe that.
It is performance evaluation time at MSH. The process, so logical and coherent in the US looks very different here. It is probably as countercultural as a process can get: confronting people directly, black on white, whether they performing well or not. As long as the forms record good or very good performance the process works fine and is motivating and encouraging.
But when someone is not doing what they should be doing it becomes more complicated quickly. In this society where indirect communication is the norm, this is too painfully straightforward – recht voor zijn raap – we call that in Holland, poorly translated as ‘straight for the head.’ Sometimes we confuse transparent with direct. Processes imported from one culture in another have all the basic assumptions about what are appropriate and inappropriate interactions between people attached to them, and then become inseparable.
I try my best to model commitment to the performance review process. I do believe in it as a tool to help people grow and develop. But the deadlines for handing in the signed forms require compliance – I figured I can comply if I do a quick and dirty approach so that the files are complete on time and I am seen as a good manager. Commitment makes for very long work days – compliance is much easier.
Amidst the anger, frustration, impotence and approaching deadlines some very good news is on the horizon: we have another two women shortlisted for positions in our project. Things are looking good.
Sylvia's Journal 
“Opening the way to understanding and change”
From Louis Dunlap, Undoing the Silence, p 142-144
Speaking out in a conflict:
Many of us wonder how we would react if our voices were suddenly needed in the moments of extreme conflict that come so often in our times. Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh tells the story of a young nun doing community work in a small village during the Vietnam War. When heavily armed American troops poured into the streets one morning, not long after the massacre of villagers at My Lai, she knew that a small mistake on anyone’s part could trigger unspeakable violence. Confrontation was not the answer, but silence could not be the answer either. How could she best use her voice in this highly charged situation? With her Buddhist practice of calming her own mind first, Sr. Chan Khang tried to imagine what these military people might be thinking and feeling. Realizing that they, too, were terrified-of enemy troops they feared were hidden in the huts-she stepped gently toward one of them and asked if they were looking for something and if she could help them. Her genuinely calm and respectful presence and her little bit of English created some trust,and the soldier told her they were looking for communists. Knowing the village well, she was able to convince this soldier, and eventually his commanding officer, that there were no communists in the village. Later that morning, the troops withdrew.
In writing, we usually have more time than Sr. Chan Khong did to reflect on our audience and strategize about speaking out. But we often face conflicts that are very intense. We may need to reach and change people who are not only different, but fiercely antagonistic. You may be writing about the death penalty just when a horrible crime has stirred public outcry for revenge. You may need to challenge racism or militarism when feelings are running high. Even among colleagues, you may need to defend an unpopular view. It is in times of struggle, when important values conflict with those of our readers, that we have the potential to wield the most dramatic influence with our writing. How do we rise to these occasions?
The confrontational option:
In conflict situations, there are two main strategy options, and either can be powerful. In one you confront the challenge head on; in the other you work hard to empathize with the readers you feel in conflict with (while holding firmly to your own values). I am not going to tell you that one of these options is better because both play important roles. Changing the public mind means using all our voices. Sometimes we need confrontational writing that expresses moral outrage, letting the community know, for instance, that we find racist behavior unacceptable. But we also need writing that helps readers find their way out of racism-which, in my experience, rarely happens through confrontation or attack. The second option opens the way to understanding and change, but sometimes it takes the first to awaken readers.