Moralising

In my life I've raised my voice a few times; it turns out I'm quite capable of venomous words when the situation calls for it. One such time was in Dar es Salaam during when Becky and I had to collect a visa. We queued for hours and reached the end of the line.

“No, sorry, you need to go in the other line,” said the man.

I felt my temperature rising, and not just because there was no air conditioning. My hands screwed into tense fists. “Fine,” we said. “But why didn't anyone tell us anything?”

Another hour or so later and we reach the end of the next line. “We don't take shilling, only dollars.”

“What? Why? Nobody's said anything – that man over there didn't tell us, and he saw our money?”

“Look, just come back tomorrow, it's okay.”

“No, we can’t do that, the visa runs out tomorrow, we have to come back today!”

A short while later we return with dollars, queue up again, and with only one more person in front of us we see the cover get pulled down. “I'm sorry we're closing,” said the lady.

Cue lots of shouting and demanding to see the manager, like good expats do. Culturally, we Brits don't often cede to authority, or to someone saying you can't do something. We always like to argue and say “why”? Usually if such behaviour is necessary, it's good practice to think first and share one's grievance with care and sensitivity (which I didn't necessarily display that day). I'm not particularly proud of it, but we got what we wanted and our visas were extended, even if we suffered the appalled gaze of the locals.

Here in Myanmar displaying anger or any emotional response is looked down upon. One should always take no for answer if given from someone with more authority than you. Don't shout, don't cry, try not to laugh too much, and – above all – do not get angry. It makes for a veneer of very peaceful people, which is comforting and nice. If someone from Myanmar doesn't like an idea you have, they won't say anything and instead will just keep quiet. And smile. That sometimes works for me because, if you listen closely enough, silence can speak for itself.

But sometimes those cultures clash. We had a meeting a few days ago and discussed the need for more mobile phones, because some people are working in areas so remote there are no phones and no way to communicate with the outside world at all, except using newly installed mobile phone masts. They are incommunicado, on the dark side of the moon.

“Let's get them mobile phones,” I suggested.

“No we can't,” said the local staff (all of them, and very politely too) “the Department of Health [from whom you need permission] won't let us.”

“Have you told them how important it is we have them?”

“No,” said one, “we heard from someone else that we can't get phones.”

“Who?”

“Someone from another organisation.”

“So not the department of health?”

“No.”

“So, let's chase them. Push them for it.”

Silence.

Two days later I checked the actions and it was not there. I asked why not, and I was told the same answers about the department of health, so I put it back on the actions to do anyway.

Myanmar has an authoritarian culture, where you do as the big players say. You always follow orders from superiors, and you never question things. I read Malcolm Gladwell's book Outliers recently, in which he described the crash of Korean Air flight 801 in 1997. In that case, 228 people died because the first officer and flight engineer of the flight both feared contradicting the pilot and telling him his course of action was wrong. Culturally, in Korea too, you simply don't contradict or challenge a superior.

We obviously didn't witness anything quite so tragic in our small office, but I did recognise the similar, root difficulty – my suggestions must have seemed too challenging for them, and perhaps even rude. Maybe it was. But I thought it a shame there is a fear to approach the department of health when people's safety is at risk in remote villages, just as the first officer did not say anything to the captain, even when more than 200 lives were at risk, including his own. Sometimes silence is a good cultural – and personal – trait, sometimes it’s not. We can learn from each other.

Soon after the meeting, I got a welcome and reassuring email from a colleague with a fitting thought for the day. It made me think about the one time silence is inexcusable. It read:

‘If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor’ – Desmond Tutu.