"We Love Our King!"

Hundreds of thousands of Thais took to the streets in Bangkok on Wednesday to wish King Bhumibol Adulyadej, the world's longest reigning monarch, a happy 80th birthday. And I was in the thick of it. They shouted "Love Live the King" and We Love Our King." The King, also known as Rama IX of the Chakri dynasty, ascended to the throne in 1946 and his popularity is unbelievable to someone who grew up in a so-called "democracy" without royal underpinning. I saw the King drive by twice yesterday, catching a glimpse of the monarch in the back seat of the gold car where he sat next to Queen Sirikit, regal in his white uniform, and I felt the emotional thrill of the yellow-clad crowd in my bones. This must have been what it was like in 18th century France when Louis rode by in his carriage. I once saw Queen Elizabeth in a procession in London and the experience was similar. These humans are close to divine, their fame exceeding the 15 minutes alotted to mere mortals.

It was a full day for the King in a week (month! year!) that has featured an unprecedented level of celebration, following on almost similar festivities last year that marked his 60th year as king of Thailand. In the morning the king gave a royal audience to 20,000 of the nation's elite as he sat on the balcony of his throne hall in the Grand Palace, dressed in full regalia, before members of his family, government officials, distinguished foreign guests and and military generals. After a 21-gun salute, politicians and the king's only son Crown Prince Maha Vajiralongkorn delivered speeches praising the monarch's work to develop the country.

In this country, religion and politics have been firmly united under the royal umbrella by a man much beloved by his subjects. In several speeches this week, he has asked loyal citizens in this constitutional democracy to keep the peace as Thailand prepares to elect a government to replace a military dictatorship that took control last year (with the King's blessing). Polls show the party that supports the man (Thaksin Shinawatra) ousted by the military is currently favored by voters. The King has been in ill health lately (which he joked about in his speeches) and his son lacks his father's stature and popular support. Married three times, the father of six children, even his mother the Queen has called him a "bit of a Don Juan." In his birthday speech, the Prince said "I would like to make an oath, in all sincerity, to promise that I will be honest, restrained and determined," he said. "I will refrain from things that should be avoided."

My celebration began on Tuesday when I met my guide at Starbucks on the Khaosan Road and we walked the short distance to Ratchadamnoen, the broad boulevard that leads from the Anantasamakhom Throne Hall and the King Rama V Monument, not far from Chitralada Palace, where the royal family currently resides, down to the royal grounds at Sanam Luang and the Grand Palace where monarchs used to live. The street was lit by lights from one end to the other and each intersection featured an elaborate arch illustrating episodes from the King's life. At the Democracy Mountain there were dancing fountains, colored lights, and an orchestra with dozens of children playing traditional Thai instruments. We found chairs in an improvised theater at the corner by Wat Ratchanatda to watch a "light and sound" pageant honoring the monarch with musicians, traditionally-costumed dancers and singers. The King not only played saxophone with Benny Goodman and Louis Armstrong but wrote dozens of songs which his subjects love to sing (he is also an artist, a scientist and an ardent environmentalist). After the performance we crossed the street and climbed to the top of the Phrakan Fortress to watch the fireworks show from the Royal Turf Club.

Late the next afternoon, we took a khlong taxi packed with Thais wearing yellow shirts (the King was born on a Monday, a yellow day, and on his birthday the whole country made a unified fashion statement) which let us out at a pier near the Golden Mount. We emerged again on Ratchadamnoen to await the King as he drove from Chitralada to yet another ceremony, this one with the monks, at the Grand Palace. Thais (and a few farang), wearing yellow paper hats and waving flags, were in good humor as they pushed further into the street only to be moved back again and again by the traffic cops. We were warned many times not to take photos of the King, a punishable breach of etiquette. When we saw the royal car approaching, everyone shouted and waved flags. I caught a glimpse of the royal profile and a waving hand, but he was looking towards the other side of the street. After the motorcade passed, the immense crowd surged down Ratchadamnoen toward the large parade ground at Sanan Luang where the main celebration would take place. On huge TV monitors we could see the King being blessed by the monks at Wat Phra Kaew inside the Grand Palace. At the edge of the park we found another crowded spot to watch his return. This time I could see the King and Queen clearly inside the car as Thais all around us cheered their birthday greetings. After the second viewing, we lit our candles, sang various songs (I hummed as best I could), and watched the spectacular fireworks display over our heads. I took videos, along with everyone else, but I'm sure there are more than enough on YouTube. Finally there was the long walk home. The previous night we had walked for over an hour through crowded streets, since empty taxis and tuk-tuks were non-existent. On Wednesday we hiked for a few kilmeters toward Hualampong train station and managed to flag down a tuk-tuk before our feet dropped off.

On Friday night, after the Christmas party at Siam Court, there is one more celebration to attend, another fireworks extravaganza, this one in the neighborhood at Benjakiti Park.

"Long Live the King!"

"Blood made the sandals slippery"

Returning to Burma last month after the military crackdown, Canadian monk U Vamsarakkhita listened to the stories told by his friends and fellow monks and was moved to write a poem, "Then Came the Night," (printed below) which he read to the Little Bang sangha during the second of two talks in Bangkok last month.

Vamsa is a meditation teacher in the Mahasi Vipassana tradition. In his talks he gave a unified view of "The Teachings of the Buddha" common to all branches of the practice, and presented "Ten New Age Myths" that make the path to enlightenment more difficult.

What would lead a six-foot-three-inch basketball player from Vancouver to ordain as a monk in Burma? While at college on a sports scholarship, Sean Pritchard took up Transcendental Meditation (TM) to help him relax before games. After marriage and a career as a financial planner, his work with charities brought him to Asia. He knew of Buddhism from the writings of Alan Watts and the teaching of Ruth Denison. Traveling in Burma in 1991, he met Chanmyay Sayadaw U Janaka, chief abbot of Chanmyay Yeiktha Meditation Centre in Yangon and a student of the Venerable Mahasi Sayadaw, famed Vipassana meditation teacher. U Vamsa, who thought he might become a monk in his sixties, decided to put on robes much earlier, and he has practiced and traveled as an assistant with U Janaka since 1994. Now 54, U Vamsa leads meditation retreats at the Dhammodaya meditation centre just outside Bangkok, and will travel next year to the United States.

Vamsa listed three points that all versions of Buddhism have in common: the importance of a simple life, an understanding of the law of cause and effect, and practices to purify the mind. An honest life requires that "one do only wholesome things and avoid that which is unwholesome." To explain cause and effect, Vamsa quoted Ruth Denison: "Karma means you don't get away with nothing, darling." Purification involves meditation which unclogs the mind of "defilements" -- the fruit of green, anger and ignorance. "Vipassana leads to understanding phenomena as they are, mental and physical, to see that things are impermanent, unsatisfying and impersonal."

The Canadian monk said that he grew up longing to be like his namesake, Sean Connery, in the James Bond movies. "That's the way we were taught to be a man, never living in the moment, always living a virtual daydream." In meditation, he learned to "use the body to ground the mind in the present, to notice thinking but not the content." Meditation helps to break down the process of the self, "to lose the stickiness of 'me, mine, I'." Purifying the mind is "not an intellectual process, not done with reason," he said. It is not a theory, not faith-based, but an experience.

In his second talk, U Vamsa listed "Ten New Age Myths" that are unhelpful:

1. "We are already enlightened."
2. "All this is an illusion."
3. "If it is not easy, it is not the path."
4. "Abundance and entitlement are ample requisites for attainment."
5. "One can indulge, think, serve, chant, et al, one’s way to enlightenment."
6. "Instant ‘enlightenment’ is possible."
7. "‘The Secret’ is the ‘Power of Now’."
8. "Piano, surfing, sport, skiing is my meditation."
9. "‘It’s not my fault, it’s my Karma’" (which leads to 'idiot compassion')
10. "We are all one."

Each of these is a stumbling block on the road to Nibanna, he said. There is no way to avoid: living a simple, honest wholesome life; understanding the law of karma, and purifying the mind. The fruit of this practice is Enlightenment.

Then Came the Night

A crowd, a glorious crowd, came in peace

Led by the ones in maroon and golden robes

Hope was alive; Freedom’s sweet taste was nearer than ever

The heavy sweaty air, scented with frangipani, pressed and blew the people and the palm leaves,

And the whole world watched in a breathless secret silence

Now was the time for movement and space

The stern to become free and pliant

To breathe again the nourishment, to stretch and grow,

To break from the smothering web of fear

Oh watching world, Are you here with us now?

Then the soldiers came, countrymen in green

Well-fed, strong, made cruel and proud, steeled to pain

Fashioned by an outside worldly power guarded in its own sheath of terror

They stood watching, sizing, seizing; seething

Oh watching world, you say how restrained and cool they are!

As one, the crowd jeered and pleaded and wept

You green headed pigs; Who fights us, your brothers and sisters?

But the soldiers were orphans; unloved, twisted and deaf to the pleas

Fed and clothed and loyal only to their comrades in arms

And the world saw the shields and AK’s and hardened bamboo clubs

Then in a flash, like a spring trap snapping

AK’s sprayed their lethal spit, acrid tear gas plumed

Cries of pain and surprise from those stung and hurt

Running and running; blood made the sandals slippery

They fluttered off like broken tires; the world saw them scattered, red, piled in dirt.

Then beating and chasing and running; crowd splayed apart.

Hard bamboo clubs smashing into bodies and bones

Heads pop-popping and gurgling like watermelons thudding onto a road of red

Orphans beating brother, sister, thami, Ulay, Daw Daw*

And the world watched and hoped that only eleven were dead

Then came the bleak and heavy night, and hooded brothers

Slid like snakes into the holiest of holy places

And smashed and robbed and tore dark red robes from the backs of monks

Then crushed heads and bodies against a red brick wailing wall

A watching world sighed and went back to sleep

Statesmen belched the useless vomit of outrage and indignity

Then clumsy and mute, in secret relief, agreed to nothing

And the blood dried on Sule Pagoda Road

The gleaming Shwedagon wept its gold leaf tears to the wind

And the Golden Land of Burma was golden no more.

Epilogue:

Oh watching world, when your black-hooded ones

With shields and spray and armored with guns

Stop you from crossing this line or that slew

Or crush your homes and snatch your children from your neck

Who, oh who, will be watching out for you?

U Vamsarakkhita (aka Sean Pritchard) copyrighted

*(daughter, uncle, auntie)

If God is Dead, Can Religion be Far Behind?

Religion (or should we call it spirituality?) is alive and well in Bangkok, judging by the responses to my talk on the New Atheists on Saturday before a group of mostly Buddhists from the Little Bang Sangha. We gathered in the upper room above the Baan Suan Phi vegetarian foodcourt where we watched Richard Dawkins' two-part BBC-TV rant against religion, "The Root of All Evil?," ate a selection of spicy tofu, and I introduced the writings of Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, Daniel Dennett and Sam Harris. While there was not complete agreement, there was a general consensus that Buddhism is closer to atheism than the monotheistic religions, as both Dawkins and Hitchens (who also has some nasty things to say about Buddhism and Buddhists) argue. If the New Atheists confine their criticism to gods and the supernatural, then Buddhism gets a free pass. Harris is a practicing Buddhist and even believes "mysticism is a rational enterprise" (as compared to religion). But it was my contention that they spread a broader net when they condemn all kinds of faith as antithetical to reason (and science which they all worship equally).

Nitezsche declared "God is dead" in the 19th century and a school of theology in the 1960s took its cue from his contention that morality can no longer be secured by the traditional God but must stand on its own against the challenge of nihilism. Many assumed that the Enlightenment, modernism and secularism would vanquish religion. Instead, the 21st century has seen an increase in religious fundamentalism as a response to globalization. The New Atheists are reacting both to Muslim terrorism and the power of the religious right in America which has breached the wall between Church and State. While Dawkins and Dennett, both firm believers in Darwinism, make a valiant (and fascinating) effort to account for how religion might have evolved to serve a (perhaps misdirected) need, none of the authors can explain why it failed to fade away as predicted by Freud, Marx and other secular prophets. So the answer to the question above is, no. Even the old God, "a psychotic delinquent," as Dawkins describes him, is undergoing a resurrection.

This week's Asian edition of Time features an interesting cover story on "What Makes Us Moral" by Jeffrey Kluger. Apparently we'll soon be able to trace altruism in the brain. God is not mentioned. And Jerry gave me a clipping of an Associated Press story by Justin Pope: "Religion with a side of pasta: Academics tackle the rise of 'Flying Spaghetti Monsterism'." It looks as if the FSM is being seriously discussed this month in San Diego at the annual meeting of the American Academy of Religion. One scholar is using a carnivalesque interpretation from my favorite Russian literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin (who wrote much-cited works on Dostoevsky and Rabelais) to understand "Pastafarians" and their internet-spawned religion (just do a Google search). Stuff like this gives me more hope for the future than the pronouncements of Pope Benedict XVI who criticized the French and Russian revolutions as well as atheism and the ideas of Marx in his encyclical Spe Salvi (Saved by Hope) released last week (many people reject faith today, the Pope said, “simply because they do not find the prospect of eternal life attractive.").

At the World Buddhist University on Sunday, Daniel Henning, professor emeritus of environmental affairs at Montana State University, tried to construct a "Oneness Spirituality" using the teachings of Buddhism, Deep Ecology (DE) and A Course in Miracles (ACIM). Henning, who has campaigned for the protection of trees and elephants in Thailand, is the co-author of Managing the Environmental Crisis, and author of Buddhism and Deep Ecology and Tree Talk and Tales. DE, Henning said, recognizes that "we are part of the earth," and that trade and technology separate us from this connection...Our sense of inter-connectedness is blocked by modern life." But spiritual separation, according to the teachings of ACIM, Henning said, can only be healed by love and forgiveness, or what he describes as "Oneness Spirituality." The philosophy of DE, however, is ecocentric (humans are on a par with all being, equally real) while revealed spirituality of ACIM is anthropocentric (only spirit exists). While admitting that his project was a bit schizoid, Henning did not agree that the earthiness of DE and environmentalism fit poorly with the "all is illusion" line from ACIM. When a spokesman for ACIM declared that the holocaust was an illusion (as are bodies and the earth), a Brit who complained that the talk ignored politics walked out of the room in disgust. Henning's goal -- to heal separation through oneness -- is admirable but vague, and his chosen methodologies are in conflict. He might benefit from a study of the doctrine of advaita (non-duality) in Hinduism. As another speaker said during the Q&A period, Buddhists seem to have a difficult time crossing the bridge from the dharma to social activism. I remember when my advocacy of DE was strongly criticized by a seminar full of Marxists who thought it lacked a political perspective. Perhaps that's what attracts Henning to the equally a-political ACIM.

And now for something completely different: Last week I accompanied Dr. Holly and Toffee to the British Club in Bangkok to see a performance of Gilbert & Sullivan's "Trial By Jury." Audwin Yap, a fellow member of Little Bang, was in the cast and we wanted to lend him support. He didn't need it; the annual production by the Bangkok Community Theater (last year it was "Pirates of Penzance") was a sold-out success. For our $30 ticket, we got a full-course meal from a varied buffet of farang food (I had roast beef) in addition to the evening's entertainment. The British Club, on a lovely piece of property down a private alley in Silom, was founded in 1903 and the two-story clubhouse was built in 1915. We gathered on the lawn for drinks and finger food under a tent and not far off members were playing tennis on a brightly lit court. I met a retired oil executive who lived far out Sukhumvit on an acre of land where pythons were routinely discovered on a weekly basis. "We send for the snake men. If it's up a tree, one climbs up and lets the snake wrap itself around him. Then he comes down and the other man unwraps the snake and takes it away." Sounds simple, doesn't it? In the upstairs theater we sat at long tables covered with starched white cloth; even the chairs were covered in white. My neighbors were women from Bakersfield and Canada married to men in oil and geology, and Holly sat next to an investment banker who raised polo ponies. The room was so packed it was dangerous to breathe deeply. A pianist and bassist did the musical honors and the cast of singers, Asian and farang, were exceptional. Toffee took photos and afterwards we complimented Audwin on his outstanding performance.

Also last week I went to visit my friend Pandit Bhikku, the British monk Phra Cittamasvaro, at his monastery, Wat Paknam Bhasicharoen, across the river in Thonburi. It's a large outfit with some 200 monks in residents, a couple of them farang like Pandit. We visited the main bot with its large Buddha covered in gold worth millions, and found the monks making an intricate string weaving inside the hall and without, probably to honor the King on his birthday this week in some way. The room is covered with depictions of scenes from the Buddha's life (distinctly Thai, the art seems to ignore his Indian roots). Next to the monastery, a huge stupa is under construction. Wat Pak Nam sits at the intersection of several khlongs (canals) and the neighborhood feels more like a small village than a suburb of Bangkok. There were two other big Buddhist temples in the vicinity. One featured a large Buddha seated on three white elephants, each with a realistic penis (it apparently created a stir from the residents). The late abbot of Pandit's temple was the respected Lunag Phor Sodh who resurrected the Dhamakhaya tradition of insight meditation which is now widely taught. The current abbot is number three in the nine-member sangha that governs Thai Buddhism, and a man of some power. I was shown where he kept his Mercedes (his stature is no less than that of the archbishop of Scotland, Pandit told me by way of an explanatory comparison).

On Thursday I met Patrick and Caroline Bladon, a young couple who are traveling around the world for six months. His mother befriended Jerry during his recent visit to Memphis for the Elvis celebration. Caroline had been to Thailand following her graduation from the University of Georgia in Athens where she and Patrick met. So far on this trip they've been to China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos (where they tried to figure out a way to live forever in the wonderful Luang Prabang), as well as Thailand, including a stop at the island of Koh Phi Phi where they found damage from the tsunami still in evidence. In a week they will be traveling to India and I gave them some suggestions of places to visit in the south, including Shantivanam, the ashram where I will be in residence a week from now. I was impressed by their curiosity and openness to new experiences, and I expect that after they return to the U.S. their outlook will be forever changed. How can you keep Americans satisfied with bread and circuses after they've seen the world? If you want to follow the young Bladons' journey, take a look at their blog.

Last night I finally visited the Suan Lum Night Bazaar, one of Bangkok's glittering tourist attractions, where I saw this living statue, a common entertainment in Europe but rare here. It's a large market with hundreds of covered stalls spread over a wide area, and is an upscale version of the huge weekend market at Chatuchak and the nightly street markets at Patpong in Silom and along Sukhumvit. Many of the same goods are on sale: clothes, DVDs and CDs (some of them legal), jewelry, fruit, watches, sandals, art objects and cheap souvenirs. There is a huge beer garden with professional entertainment (pop, rock and hip-hop when I was there) on several stages and a string of foodcourt stalls with Thai fare available. I was impressed by the huge tankards of beer on some tables holding no doubt several quarts, or perhaps a small keg. Asians do enjoy their beer. The Bazaar is relatively new, opening in 2001, and the rumors of its demise are rampant. Apparently all the leases ran out last year but there have not yet been any moves to close the popular palace of consumption down. It sits on property across from Lumpini Park and the new subway has a stop by the entrance. But development is a religion in Bangkok and perhaps the land is needed for a new parking lot or high-rise condo (where can they find occupants for all the new luxury condominium buildings that are opening daily, three alone on Jerry's soi?).

The Christmas season is moving into high gear in Bangkok. All of the big malls are decorated to the hilt with familiar farang icons, trees and tinsel. Then I suddenly saw poinsettia plants blooming everywhere. What is the Thai name for that, I asked a friend. "Ton (tree) Crit-mas," I was told. The management of Siam Court, my building, planted poinsettia plants all along the wall around the pool, and lit up the trees with strings of lights. There are pots of poinsettias around many of the bars around Nana, not to mention Christmas trees and colored lights. Even the bar girls are putting tinsel in their hair as a seasonal fashion statement. There are chestnuts roasting on street corners (but I was told that was a Thai tradition unrelated to the Yule season). I hear Christmas carols everywhere, and may even attend a concert next weekend at an Episcopal church to get my caroling fix. Last season I was in chilly London but the songs always make me feel at home, even if I no longer recognize the sky god. I am leaving a week from today for Trichy in southern India via Colombo, Sri Lanka (with an overnight in that war-ravaged country), and will spend both Christmas and New Year's at Shantivanam where two years ago I dressed up as Father Christmas and passed out small gifts of pencils and bracelets to a hundred children. If I don't get to send you my Christmas greetings, please consider this a card to one and all: Merry Christmas to you!

The Twilight of Our Empire

This prophetic column by Chris Hedges has appeared in the Philadelphia Inquirer and on Truthout and Common Dreams. Hedges, author of the perceptive War is a Force that Gives Us Meaning and several other excellent books, is the son of a Presbyterian minister who received a Master of Divinity degree from Harvard Divinity School before beginning a career as a war correspondent in El Salvador in 1983. Although he says he is not a pacifist and has supported intenventions for humanitarian reasons in Kosovo and Bosnia, Hedges calls war "the most potent narcotic invented by humankind." In his numerous articles recently, he has shown a sensitiveness and wisdom matched only for me by Bill Moyers. Rather than link it, I'll reprint the entire piece. Read it and weep.

All great empires and nations decay from within. By the time they hobble off the world stage, overrun by the hordes at the gates or vanishing quietly into the pages of history books, what made them successful and powerful no longer has relevance. This rot takes place over decades, as with the Soviet Union, or, even longer, as with the Roman, Ottoman or Austro-Hungarian empires. It is often imperceptible.

Dying empires cling until the very end to the outward trappings of power. They mask their weakness behind a costly and technologically advanced military. They pursue increasingly unrealistic imperial ambitions. They stifle dissent with efficient and often ruthless mechanisms of control. They lose the capacity for empathy, which allows them to see themselves through the eyes of others, to create a world of accommodation rather than strife. The creeds and noble ideals of the nation become empty cliches, used to justify acts of greater plunder, corruption and violence. By the end, there is only a raw lust for power and few willing to confront it.

The most damning indicators of national decline are upon us. We have watched an oligarchy rise to take economic and political power. The top 1 percent of the population has amassed more wealth than the bottom 90 percent combined, creating economic disparities unseen since the Depression. If Hillary Rodham Clinton becomes president, we will see the presidency controlled by two families for the last 24 years.

Massive debt, much of it in the hands of the Chinese, keeps piling up as we fund absurd imperial projects and useless foreign wars. Democratic freedoms are diminished in the name of national security. And the erosion of basic services, from education to health care to public housing, has left tens of millions of citizens in despair. The displacement of genuine debate and civil and political discourse with the noise and glitter of public spectacle and entertainment has left us ignorant of the outside world, and blind to how it perceives us. We are fed trivia and celebrity gossip in place of news.

An increasing number of voices, especially within the military, are speaking to this stark deterioration. They describe a political class that no longer knows how to separate personal gain from the common good, a class driving the nation into the ground.

“There has been a glaring and unfortunate display of incompetent strategic leadership within our national leaders,” retired Lt. Gen. Ricardo S. Sanchez, the former commander of forces in Iraq, recently told the New York Times, adding that civilian officials have been “derelict in their duties” and guilty of a “lust for power.”

The American working class, once the most prosperous on Earth, has been politically disempowered, impoverished and abandoned. Manufacturing jobs have been shipped overseas. State and federal assistance programs have been slashed. The corporations, those that orchestrated the flight of jobs and the abolishment of workers’ rights, control every federal agency in Washington, including the Department of Labor. They have dismantled the regulations that had made the country’s managed capitalism a success for ordinary men and women. The Democratic and Republican Parties now take corporate money and do the bidding of corporate interests.

Philadelphia is a textbook example. The city has seen a precipitous decline in manufacturing jobs, jobs that allowed households to live comfortably on one salary. The city had 35 percent of its workforce employed in the manufacturing sector in 1950, perhaps the zenith of the American empire. Thirty years later, this had fallen to 20 percent. Today it is 8.8 percent. Commensurate jobs, jobs that offer benefits, health care and most important enough money to provide hope for the future, no longer exist. The former manufacturing centers from Flint, Mich., to Youngstown, Ohio, are open sores, testaments to a growing internal collapse.

The United States has gone from being the world’s largest creditor to its largest debtor. As of September 2006, the country was, for the first time in a century, paying out more than it received in investments. Trillions of dollars go into defense while the nation’s infrastructure, from levees in New Orleans to highway bridges in Minnesota, collapses. We spend almost as much on military power as the rest of the world combined, while Social Security and Medicare entitlements are jeopardized because of huge deficits. Money is available for war, but not for the simple necessities of daily life.

Nothing makes these diseased priorities more starkly clear than what the White House did last week. On the same day, Tuesday, President Bush vetoed a domestic spending bill for education, job training and health programs, yet signed another bill giving the Pentagon about $471 billion for the fiscal year that began Oct. 1. All this in the shadow of a Joint Economic Committee report suggesting that the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have been twice as expensive than previously imagined, almost $1.5 trillion.

The decision to measure the strength of the state in military terms is fatal. It leads to a growing cynicism among a disenchanted citizenry and a Hobbesian ethic of individual gain at the expense of everyone else. Few want to fight and die for a Halliburton or an Exxon. This is why we do not have a draft. It is why taxes have not been raised and we borrow to fund the war. It is why the state has organized, and spends billions to maintain, a mercenary army in Iraq. We leave the fighting and dying mostly to our poor and hired killers. No nationwide sacrifices are required. We will worry about it later.

It all amounts to a tacit complicity on the part of a passive population. This permits the oligarchy to squander capital and lives. It creates a world where we speak exclusively in the language of violence. It has plunged us into an endless cycle of war and conflict that is draining away the vitality, resources and promise of the nation.

It signals the twilight of our empire.

How Do You Measure Happiness?

Not with economic indexes, like the Gross National Product (GNP), was the conclusion of speakers and participants at an international meeting being held in Thailand this month. "Happiness is a state of mind," said Ringu Tulka Rinpoche, keynote speaker yesterday at the 3rd international conference on Gross National Happiness (GNH) which began a week ago on the Mekong River at Nong Khai and moved Monday to Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok. Happiness doesn't depend on the environment, or how much stuff we have accumulated, the Tibetan teacher said, "but on how I experience it. We need a wider understanding of happiness, that what I do is not only for me but for people around me. This understanding is called compassion."

The session Tuesday began with chanting by a phalanx of monks and a children's choir and the tooting of Tibetan horns. Over 500 people from governmental departments, NGOs and universities around the world gathered in Chula's main auditorium to ponder the possibilities of global transformation. The GNH index was proposed in 1972 by Bhutan's king, Jigme Singye Wangchuck, who had recently ascended to the throne at the age of 16 (he abdicated last spring in favor of his 28-year-old son; youth is clearly valued in the mountain kingdom). As monarch of a poor country that did not fully open to western influence until the end of the last century, he believed that his people's happiness was more significant than their economic success. A nice idea, but how do you measure it? Conferences in 2005 and 2006 came up with "four pillars" of GNH: economic prosperity (you have to have SOME stuff), environmental preservation, cultural promotion and good governance.

The most captvating speaker of the day was environmental activist Helena Norberg-Hodge who spoke more about the primary cause of unhappiness in the developing world: "well-intentioned people who support a system destroying people and the land, through the blind ideology of free trade and blind investment in commodities. Blindness is more at the root of the problem than greed," she said. Because of the widening distance between resources and production, and production and consumption, consumers are ignorant of the havoc their choices create. Local people can no longer afford to buy their own production. While acknowledging that "GNH is an important contribution to a shifting world view," Norberg-Hodge advocated a "localization of globalization" which she argued would be neither isolationism nor protectionism.

For 500 years the dominant world view has been that humans are separate from the natural world, Norberg-Hodge said, and the global trading system contributes to this division. She believes that increased emmisions of CO2 are linked to epidemics of depression, personal debt and obesity in the developed world. The internet, while useful for dialogue, is dangerous, she said, because it enables the destruction of small businesses. Microfinance has helped to fuel a disastrous rural-urban migration, and trade in carbon enables China to hide "the dirty laundry of America." Even democracy has been "a major contribution to the population explosion" because under-represented minorities are struggling to catch up.

Compared to Norberg-Hodge's radical diagnosis of global ills, the other speakers were hard-pressed to trumpet the virtues of happiness. Sheldon Shaeffer from UNESCO urged the preservation of both biological and cultural diversity: "We must allow people the right to remain others." Sulak Sivaraksa, controversial Thai author (his last book was banned) and inspiration for engaged Buddhist activism, agreed with Norberg-Hodge that globalization needs to be localized, and he ticked off the enumerable sins against the world committed by the American Empire (A friend told me he later modified his harsh criticism in a workshop, which is too bad. I thought his remarks were right on target.). Darwis Khudori spoke of his experience growing up in an Indonesia transformed by the successive waves of Indianization, Islamacization and Westernization in order to explain why he thinks of himself as "a little bit Muslim."

In one of the many afternoon workshops, Dhammananda Bhikkuni , former professor and a lone nun in the all-male Buddhist establishment in Thailand, called for "Gross Universal Happiness." Borders, she said, such as between Thailand and Cambodia, are not real; "people are the same on both sides. The world is inter-dependent and inter-related." Fr. Vichai Phokthawee, a Catholic priest who joined Dhammananda in the "Spiritual Dimension of Happiness" discussion, quoted Buddhadasa, the late influential Thai monk, who said "to eat only what is delicious is the root of all evil." But ultimate happiness for a Christian comes only after death, he admitted, while his fellow panelist reiterated that for a Buddhist happiness is the experience of enlightenment (which I think is even more rare). There was some discussion of happiness of the mind compared to happiness of the body, but this seems to me to perpetuate the dualism and the worldly separation that Norberg-Hodge described.

It was wonderful to run into Amanda Kiessel by the registration table. The last time I saw her was in Santa Cruz at Everyday Dharma, my sangha led by Carolyn Atkinson. Amanda was a graduate student of Carolyn's husband, Alan Richards, in the environmental studies program at UC Santa Cruz and she was doing her field work in Sri Lanka. Now she is a program director of Sewalanka Foundation and was attending the conference with a group of people including a group of musicians and the NGO's chairman, Harsha Kumara Navaratne, who chaired a workshop on organic agriculture. Sewalanka works with community-based organizations in almost 1000 villages in Sri Lanka on a range of issues. Amanda has apparently decided to remain in that troubled country, where Hindu rebels continue to battle the Buddhist government for autonomy in the island's north.

While it was exciting to be in the company of an international polyglot group, including monks and nuns in their orange and red robes, and Bhutan gentlemen in their distinctive short dress with long socks (apparently traditional fashion is a state requirement in their country), I could not shake the impression that GNH was a feel-good expression, coined to justify the failure of real structural change, economic and political, throughout the world. While a recent poll found that 68% of Bhutan's 700,000 people were "happy," this did not include 100,000 people of Nepalese origin who were deported because they had settled in the country illegally. Another story I came across details the troubles that have come in the wake of cable television which was introduced to Bhutan in 1999.

Again, how do you measure happiness? It certainly is a state of mind, and we know that people who have undergone great suffering can sometimes experience a more intense happiness than another who possesses all the requisite modern toys but lacks real satisfaction and wellbeing. GNH reminds me of the est Hunger Project some years ago in which people were encouraged to think positively about ending hunger in the world without any particular programs developed to achieve that goal. I think the hedonistic goal of happiness is misunderstood as the carrot for the donkey of progress. We must figure out a better way to condemn the evils of globalization and free trade which damage both people and the environment. It is not enough to say that such pawns in the global game are "unhappy" and that the motive for change and transformation is the uniform happiness of all peoples (as opposed to corporations and governments). What happened to that good old-fashioned word "justice"?

Floating Boats on the Chao Phraya

On Saturday I joined millions of Thais in Bangkok who went down at dusk to the Chao Phraya River to float their boats. It was Loy Krathong, one of Thailand's biggest holidays, and the custom is to float (loy) a small boat (krathong), made of palm leaves and flowers, topped by incense and candles, and in the process let go of all one's emotional baggage to start life anew. The festivities in Bangkok included entertainment on both sides of the river, a parade of illuminated boats, and fireworks. I have never seen such large crowds, and were it not for the Thai custom avoiding physical contact whenever possible (politeness abounds on the crowded Skytrain), I might have panicked.

Loy Krathong is celebrated on the full moon of the 12th month in the lunar calendar. It is similar to Divali, the Hindu festival of thanksgiving to the divine Ganges which includes the floating of lanterns. King Rama IV wrote in 1863 that the festival was adopted by Thais to give honor to the Buddha. According to legend, Nang Nopamas, a consort of King Ramkhamhaeng of the Sukhothai kingdom (14th century), made the first krathong as an offering to the goddess of the waters, Phra Mae Nam. She set it afloat on one of the canals of the palace so that it would drift past her lover the king. Thus originated the saying that if two lovers launch a krathong which stays afloat until out of sight, their love will last forever. Beauty contests are traditionally held on the holiday to crown a "Nopamas Queen."

Believing that it was an all day event, I first visited Lumpini Park where I thought Thais might launch their krathongs into one of the lakes. But the park was empty. I did see women making krathongs for sale later. At Siam Paragon, the upscale mall, a lady in traditional garb was setting krathongs out on a table (photo above), and someone had already put a couple into a small pool. Realizing that darkness and the moon were necessary ingredients, my friend and I went to the movies (Ang Lee's new film, "Lust, Caution") and emerged at sunset. We took a taxi to Banglamphu where a large crowd was gathering on the grounds of Prasumain Fortress in Santichaiprakarn Park. The sidewalks were packed with vendors selling krathongs, all kinds of food, and balloons. After dinner at Ricky's Coffeeshop, we dove into the heart of the madness.

All docks and boardwalks along the river were packed with people. Helpers holding long poles with baskets at the end would set krathongs into the river for a small fee. It is considered more auspicious to float your boat well out into the river so many celebrants were boarding special ferries for that purpose. Banglamphu is a backpacker's ghetto and so there were lots of farang participating in the celebration. According to the Bangkok Nation, "This year, krathongs made from natural materials, especially banana leaves and bread, were popular, in contrast to previous years when krathongs made of foam were used." Tables full of farangs and Thais on the lawn around the fort were diligently making their own krathongs from a chaos of ingredients. On two stages at each end of the park, bands were playing Thai rock and roll and dancers were dancing to traditional melodies. Wide-eyed children were holding sparklers and eating cotton candy. And a stream of young Thais in various costumes were posing for the photographers.

While Santichaiprakarn Park was one of the most popular locations in Bangkok for Loy Krathong, the other was across the river in the park at the foot of Rama VIII bridge. There we thought we would be able to put our krathongs into the water without assistance. And so we wound our way through small sois and alleys to the underside of the bridge where another million people appeared to have gathered. A slowly moving stream of people climbed up the stairs to the top of the bridge where we walked across to the other side. Everywhere people were taking photographs of people taking photos. From the bridge we could see the brightly lit boats parading up and down the river. Not far to the south was the rooftop across from the Shangri-La Hotel where I had spent Loy Krathong two years before with Jerry and Lamyai, enjoying a private party thrown by a publisher and watching the fireworks competition between the big hotels. This time I only heard big bangs and saw numerous amateur fireworks displays (up in Chiang Mai I read today that a 12-year-old boy blew off his hand).

In Rama VIII Park there were even more people than on the other side. A large queue of booths snaked alongside the foot of the bridge, offering a variety of culinary treats (for Thais, eating is inseparable from celebrating). On a large stage, more performers were singing and dancing. And on the river bank, thousands were launching their krathongs into the water, a myriad of dancing lights with waving trails of incense. I saw buckets of small turtles and wriggling eels that some put in their krathongs for good luck. I also saw cages of sparrows and small bunnies; I know that liberating birds courts good fortune, but I never did figure out what rabbits had to do with any of it. My friend gave me a look of horror when I suggested putting one on our krathong. Another oddity was the number of people wearing illuminated devil's horns (a popular item on Halloween here).

We shopped for krathongs and my friend picked out two that were suitably ostentatious, and we bought a lighter to light the candles and incense. She also added something from small packets that I believe was food for the spirits (there is an animist element to everything in Thailand). It was slow going through the crowds to the steps leading down to the water. There we found dozens of young men and women in the water waiting to assist you in launching your ceremonial boat, for a small fee. They were drenched and smiling, and we watched our krathongs slowly move out into the gentle current of the Chao Phraya.

Getting home was more difficult that making our way to the river. Taxis were changing a 100-baht premium just for the privilege of providing escape from the mass of people. So we slowly and carefully pushed our way back across the Rama VIII bridge to Banglamphu where a taxi finally found us up and returned us to Sukhumvit for only 75 baht. I went to sleep with visions of boats in my head, secure in the knowledge that I had let my cares and upsets go for another year.

Giving Thanks

It's easy to be cynical on America's great feast day.

Not long after the Pilgrims invited the neighboring Indians to dinner they began to slaughter them and didn't stop until the land, "from sea to shining sea," had been turned into a shopping mall. Each year the President "pardons" a turkey in a festive ceremony at the White House, but millions of the bird's cousins are roasted and eaten at gatherings of families and friends (except for Brigitte and John who dine on tofurkey). Ben Franklin nominated the turkey to be America's national bird (but it lost out to the bald eagle). The big bird found in New England was misnamed by settlers for the guinea fowl Turkish merchants had brought to Europe. Noticeably stupid, the turkey will drink rain until it drowns. According to one source, "turkey" has become a synonym for, "One deficient in judgment and good sense: ass, fool, idiot, imbecile, jackass, mooncalf, moron, nincompoop, ninny, nitwit, simple, simpleton, softhead, tomfool. Informal: dope, gander, goose. Slang: cretin, ding-dong, dip, goof, jerk, nerd, schmo, schmuck."

Thanksgiving is also considered a "Day of Mourning" by Native Americans who have gathered for over thirty years at Coles Hill overlooking the famous rock in Plymouth, Massachusetts, to remember the destruction of native people and their culture that stood in the way of Manifest Destiny. Invited to give a speech at the 350th anniversary of the Pilgrim landing in 1970, Wamsutta (Frank B.) James, an elder of the Wampanoag tribe and a Native American activist, submitted a speech to the sponsors that was deemed inappropriate.

We forfeited our country. Our lands have fallen into the hands of the aggressor. We have allowed the white man to keep us on our knees. What has happened cannot be changed, but today we must work towards a more humane America, a more Indian America, where men and nature once again are important; where the Indian values of honor, truth, and brotherhood prevail.

Denied a place at the celebratory table, Wamsutta and his supporters withdrew to Coles Hill where they continue to mourn the first Thanksgiving today.

But cynicism is a cheap shot on a day dedicated to giving thanks. Awakening to a bright sunny morning in Bangkok, after ruminating on the disgraceful conduct of the human species in general, my thoughts turned more specifically to family and friends back in the U.S., all still sleeping at this hour. I think about Sandy, assisted by Gaylian, preparing her annual sumptuous feast, a bounty to rival anything Martha Stewart might dream up. I am sorry I will not be joining them, Chris and Kevin, and their extended family and friends. I remember Shirlee and can imagine her today presiding over a large table loaded with culinary delights, surrounded by David and her children and grandchildren (the great-grandchildren are living out of state). I have spent many Thanksgivings in their company. Luke, enjoying the year's first New England snowfall, has gone to Connecticut for Thanksgiving with his mother and step-father in their rural farmhouse. Molly and Nick are no doubt going to their mother's house in the Santa Cruz Mountains. I can recall dozens of Thanksgivings past, when, as stuffed with food as the turkey had been stuffed with dressing, I rested in the bosom of family and friends, my parents long gone, children and wives now ex, high school and college buddies (some recently deceased), companions of the heart and mind. Gratefulness comes easy at such times. I am thankful for the cards I have been dealt, the lives I have led, the children I have fathered, the friends I have had.

I am not sure if there are any turkeys in Thailand. Ducks and chickens, yes, but turkeys would probably drown here in the rice paddies. Or perhaps they were killed off by bird flu. I did a Google search on "thanksgiving bangkok" and came up with a few restaurants providing the traditional meal. I doubt that Jerry, who has renounced his American membership, in mind if not deed, will want to join me. Dr. Holly is still in Laos. That pretty much exhausts my list of American friends. Probably I will go to the buffet at Bully's Pub for an afternoon meal. I know that I will miss every one of you as I slurp cranberries, gnaw on a turkey leg bone and devour my slice of pumpkin pie.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

In every life we have some trouble
But when you worry you make it double
Don't worry, be happy
Don't worry, be happy now

Music & lyrics by Bobby McFerrin

Taken from the words on a poster of the silent smiling guru Meher Baba, Bobby McFerrin's a capella song, a hit record in 1988, is good advice as well as a succinct (though probably unintended) summation of the Buddha's teaching. Worrying about the inevitable anxieties of life just makes them worse. Wisdom like this, with perhaps an academic twist, will be offered at the 3rd international conference on Gross National Happiness which will be held next week at Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok. The GNH index was invented in 1972 by Bhutan's King Jigme Singye Wangchuck as a way to define life in a more spiritual and psychological sense than the economic Gross National Product (GNP) can. The four pillars of GNH are the promotion of equitable and sustainable socio-economic development, preservation and promotion of cultural values, conservation of the natural environment, and establishment of good governance. Conferences in 2005 and 2006 were held in Nova Scotia and Japan.

With happiness as my goal, I set out last Friday to visit Koh Samet, a small island in the Gulf of Thailand just off the coast, 4.5 kilometers from the port of Ban Phe in Rayong Province, itself a three-hour bus ride from Bangkok. Samet, named after a ubiquitous tree (also called cajeput, a member of the eucalyptus family) found on the island which is used for everything from medicine to boat building (not to mention producing an aromatic oil), is popular with Thais as well as tourists. In 1981 it was included in the Khao Laem Ya-Mu Koh Samet National Park. This means, among other things, that foreign visitors must pay a 400-baht entrance fee (only 40 baht for Thais). Unfortunately, becoming a park hasn't stopped development of the fragile ecosystem and some of the pristine beaches resemble strip malls full of bungalows, bars and restaurants.

The island (sometimes spelled "Samed") is famous because it is supposed to be the setting for much of the epic poem, Phra Aphai Mani, written by Thailand's Shakespeare, Sunthorn Phu. Born during the reign of Rama I in the late 18th century, the writer led a colorful life which included imprisonment for an affair with a lady at court. Released to marry the woman, he was appointed court poet before becoming an alcoholic, losing his wife and going to jail for fighting. He began his long poem in prison and published it in installments over 20 years. The story follows the title character, Prince Aphai Mani, a hero of Byronic proportions, in his romantic adventures throughout ancient Siam. On Ko Kaew Phitsadan ("vast jewel island," a reference to the white sand), the prince is rescued with the help of a mermaid from the clutches of a female giant whom he defeats by playing a magic flute, and the mermaid and he have a son named Sudsakorn who spends much of the poem looking for his father who has gone missing. A cheesy statue of the prince and his mermaid wife sits on rocks at the end of Hat Sai Kaew, "Diamond Sand Beach," the largest of the 13 coves (ao) or beaches on the east side of the island (the west is mostly barren with only a couple of resorts).

At Ekamai bus station in Bangkok I was able to get a round-trip ticket on both the bus and the ferry from Ban Phe to the island for under $10. A steward provided water and a hand towel, and we were treated to a gory slasher film, "The Hills Have Eyes II," dubbed in Thai, on the overhead TV. There was a short wait for the ferry, which would not leave until it had at least 20 passengers, and the crossing in the ancient boat was smooth. Koh Samet is shaped like a P and most of the ferries arrive at Na Dan pier on the north shore. Passengers are greeted by a fleet of green pickups that serve as buses, and, after paying the entrance fee, we headed south on a bumpy dirt road My destination was Ao Pudsin (or Ao Tub Tim, depending on which of the two places you choose to stay), where I had reserved a funky driftwood bungalow with shower (cold) and fan, and a stupendous view of the sea in front of my porch. A footpath links the beaches and, for reasons mentioned below, I never got father south than the next cove, Ao Nuan.

I am becoming a bit of a connoisseur of Thai beach destinations, having visited Koh Samui, Phuket and Pattaya (it's a hard job but somebody...you know the cliché). The first thing you notice about Koh Samet is the heavy presence of Thais, and some of them swimming in bathing suits and not their clothes. In addition, this is family-friendly island and there were kids everywhere (I watched one five-year-old boy diligently attempting to dig an anchor out of the sand where the speedboat driver had dropped it before heading off to get something). Farang and Thai children played together in the surf and built sand castles with buckets. And there were almost as many dogs, sleeping on the sand and chasing frisbees. There are bars, mostly attached to resorts, but no discernible bar scene like in Pattaya or Phuket's Patong Beach.

What there is is one long party, from all manner of water sports during the day (including parasailing and surf paddle tennis) to fireworks, outdoor dining, hot air balloons (the small kind, powered by a candle), and fire shows at night. At dusk the deck chairs and umbrellas along the beaches are replaced by mats, Thai pillows and low tables with candles for lighting. Some of the bars, Like the one attached to Naga's Bungalows, feature special prices on drinks (Ladies Night!) and advertise movies to watch. We picked Ploy Talay ("jewel of the sea") Restaurant and grabbed a front row table for the advertised fire show. After dishes of crab, shrimp and clams, washed down with beer, we listened to a cover band from the Philippines and watched fellow diners sucking on hookah pipes (quite a popular addition to the traditional menu). To the north of us, amateur and some more professional fireworks lit up the night sky. Off the coast we could see the lights of fishing boats. And south of us the small balloons (more like lamp shades) rose toward the half moon ("only 250 baht and good luck for you!"). Above our heads a large-screen TV relayed a soccer match from far away. A steady stream of revelers strolled up and down the brightly-lit beach, including an elderly woman, all sinews and bone, whom we nicknamed "The Walker" for her non-stop power walks back and forth from Hat Pudsan to Hat Sai Keaw, a distance of several kilometers.





The Ploy fire show was spectacular (you can see for yourself, and mine is not the only YouTube video of it). Nine performers, the youngest in the low teens, twirled flaming batons and fiery balls at the end of chains to produce a dazzling array of moving images. Playing with fire is universal now. My daughter Molly performed in a fire show at a club in Santa Cruz. And I believe fire shows are popular at Burning Man (maybe the first "man" made a costly mistake?). Several of the boys had bandages on their arms, and all were soaked with sweat and soot by the time the show ended. But they were clearly having a good time. Their tips were richly deserved.

So what does it take to find happiness? It can't be just a matter of sensual pleasure. Besides, the senses become dull and blunted with time. And it isn't just a matter of creature comfort. For much of the weekend I was snuffling and coughing with a cold. And Saturday night I realized the mistake of not using sun block. My chest, back and shoulders were red as a lobster even though I'd pointedly sat in the shade (playing in the water without protection was a mistake). Because of the sunburn, I decided not to hike in the sun the next day south to Ao Wong Deuan, the second largest beach on the island. But none of that dimmed the happiness I felt while spending an idyllic weekend in this tropical island paradise. Even though the rich DO live better than the poor, it didn't cost me all that much money (under $150 I suspect). Perhaps as an elderly retired gent, it's the happiness that comes with an absence of day-to-day stress and the typical concerns of settled life (is there enough gas in the car?). Being single, I have no one to think about except myself. I'm not sure that everyone would appreciate the uncertainties and daily puzzles of travel abroad, living out of a suitcase, but I am thriving . Life in Thailand is infinitely fascinating. And I find that even being unable to speak the language, which means that the simplest signs are mystifying -- being constantly out of control -- is exhilarating. When asked, I can truly say these days that I am happy.