Undercurrents

IntroductionFrom Outrage to Activism

I am fundamentally an optimist. Whether that comes from nature or nurture, I cannot say. Part of being optimistic is keeping one's head pointed toward the sun, one's feet moving forward. There were many dark moments when my faith in humanity was sorely tested, but I would not and could not give myself up to despair. That way lays defeat and death.

—Nelson Mandela

A REFUGEE CAMP sprawling across a large patch of jungle in Thailand is not the first place most people would expect to enjoy a memorable pickup soccer game. Nor the likeliest wellspring for a life‐changing insight. But that is where I embarked on my journey as a practical activist. I wasn't there as a relief worker, just a 22‐year‐old teacher visiting a friend of a friend who was working for the United Nations. It was January 1980. The Vietnam War had ended only five years before, and thousands of families across Southeast Asia were still reeling from dislocation. They were living in camps and trying to recover, find relatives, and make their way to whatever place would next become home.

The phrase “fish out of water” hardly does justice to how out of place I was, with my backpack, travel guides, and long hair. The camp sat near the Mekong River. It was filled with Laotians and Cambodians living in tents connected by dusty roads, scattered wells, and temporary feeding halls. The air smelled of burning wood. Almost everyone around me was homeless, grieving, and confused. Most had ...