昂山素季的诺贝尔和平奖致辞

昂山素季的诺贝尔和平奖致辞

国王和王后陛下，王子殿下，阁下们，挪威诺贝尔委员会卓越的委员们，亲爱的朋友们： 多年以前，有时候回想起 来，好象是多生多世以前，我在牛津同我的儿子亚历山大一起收听广播节目《荒岛唱片》。那是个非常著名的节目（我觉得它现在应该还在广播吧），邀请各行各业 的名人来谈谈，当你身处在荒岛时想携带一件什么东西，是哪八张唱片，是除了圣经和莎士比亚全集之外的哪本书，还是哪一件奢侈品？当节目结束的时候，亚历山 大和我都听得很开心。亚历山大问我是不是可能会上这个节目，我随口答道：“为什么不会呢？”因为他知道只有名人才可以上这个节目，就很真心的问我，如果我 被邀请的话，是因为什么理由呢。我想了一会然后答道：“可能是我会得诺贝尔文学奖吧。”然后我们都笑了。这个前景看起来美好，但确实不太可能。

（我现在记不起为什么我会说这么一个答案，可能是因为我那时候刚读了一本由诺贝尔文学奖得主写的书，或者是那天的名人正好是个著名作家。）

1989年，当我第一次被软禁时，我的亡夫迈克尔•阿里斯来 看我，他告诉我有个朋友约翰•菲尼斯提名我为诺贝尔奖候选人。那时候我也笑了。迈克尔忽然觉得很惊讶，然后他也明白为什么我会笑了。诺贝尔奖？这个愿望是 很美好，但确实不太可能。那当我真的获得诺贝尔和平奖之后是什么感觉呢？这个问题让我想了很多次，这确实是个合适的时机来审视，诺贝尔奖对我意味着什么， 和平又意味着什么。

就像我在访谈中多次说过 的，有天晚上我听收音机时，得知我获得了诺贝尔和平奖。这并不令人惊讶，因为在之前一周，其他好多广播都说我是最有希望获奖的人之一。当我准备这篇演讲 时，我努力地试图回忆当我得知获奖之后的第一反应是什么。我想，我不敢确定，大概是像：“哦，他们把奖给我了。”那种感觉并不很真实，因为那段时间我自己 都不像是个真实的存在了。

在我被软禁的期间，我常 常感觉自己不是真实世界的一部分了。房子就是我的世界，那些同样不自由的人们也有他们的世界，他们在监狱里可以相互陪伴，那些自由的人们也有他们的世界； 每个世界都像是个独立的星球，沿着各自的轨道在不同的孤独宇宙中默默运行。诺贝尔和平奖把我从孤立的世界拉回了和其他人一起的世界，让我重建起了现实感。 当然这并不是突然发生的，而是花了几天，几个月，当各方对获奖的反应的新闻通过电波传到我这里时，我才开始理解诺贝尔奖的意义。它让我再次感到真实，把我 拉回更广阔的人类社区。更重要的是，诺贝尔奖让全世界都关注缅甸的民主和人权运动，我们不会被忘记。 法国人说，离别，就是一 部分的死亡。其实遗忘也是一部分的死亡。遗忘削弱了把我们凝聚成人类的纽带。我最近访问泰国时会见了缅甸的移民工人和难民，许多人哭泣道：“不要忘了我 们！”他们是说：“不要忘记我们的困苦处境，不要忘记做你能做的来帮助我们，不要忘记我们同样属于你的世界。”当诺贝尔奖委员会授予我这项奖项时，他们也 把那些被压迫和被孤立的缅甸看作世界的一部分，他们意识到人类的同一性。所以接受诺贝尔和平奖，就对我个人来说，使我对民主与人权的关切超越了国界。诺贝尔和平奖打开了我心中的一扇门。

缅甸的和平观可被看作 是，通过阻止那些妨碍和谐与益处的因素，而获得幸福感的提升。nyein-chan这个词字面上可被翻译为当火被扑灭后的清凉。痛苦与争斗之火在世界熊熊 蔓

延。在我的祖国，北部的战争仍未停息，西部的群体暴力导致的纵火与谋杀在我出发的前几天仍在发生。新闻中对他人的暴行充满世界各地。饥饿、疾病、被迫离 家、失业、贫穷、不公、歧视、成见、愚顽，这些构成了我们每天的生活。哪里都有阴暗的力量在蚕食和平的基石。哪里都能找到对物质与人力资源的轻率浪费，而 这些是在世界上保有和谐与快乐所必需的。

第一次世界大战造成了对年轻人的极大消耗，和对我们星球上的正面力量的残酷损害。那个年代的诗篇对我有特殊的意义，因为当我首次读到那些诗时，我正处在和那些年轻人一样的年纪，但他们却不得不在生命之花刚刚盛开的时候就面临枯萎。一名在法国外籍军团中战斗的年轻美 国人，在他1916年的一次行动之前，像是预见到他的死亡一样写道：“在争夺的障碍前；”“在小山坡的伤疤前；”“在午夜起火的城镇中。”年轻人、爱和生 命，一起永远消失在毫无意义地占领行动中，只为了占领那些没有名字也不会被记住的地方。为了什么？快一个世纪过去了，我们仍然在寻找一个令人满意的答案。

如果暴力程度轻一些，而代以鲁莽与毫无远见地罔顾人类社会的未来，我们就可以脱罪吗？战争并不是和平唯一的坟墓。在任何痛苦被忽视的地方，冲突的种子都会在屈辱、苦难与激怒中被埋下。

在孤独中生活的有一个好 处，我有足够的时间来思考我所知与所接受的戒律的含义。作为一个佛教徒，我从小就知道“苦谛”的意义。几乎每天，当我身边的老人们，有时还有不那么老的人 们，遭受痛苦或不顺时，他们就会低声吟诵“苦谛，苦谛”。然而，只有当我在被软禁的那些年里，我才真正去研究六种大苦之相。它们是：生、老、病、死、爱别 离、怨憎会。我仔细地审视着六种大苦，不是从宗教经文的角度，而是从每日平常的生活中去审视。如果苦是生活中不可避免的一部分，我们就应该尽量在世俗活动 中尽量减轻它们。我

仔细思考过关于母子的生产护理、关于给予老年人口足够的设施，关于全面的公共卫生服务，关于慈善照料与护理。我尤其升起了对后两种苦的 兴趣：爱别离和怨憎会。我们的佛陀在他自己的生活中经历了什么，使得他要将这两种苦从许多大苦中总结出来呢？我想起了囚犯、难民、移民工人和非法人口交易 的受害者，他们被从故土上连根拔起，离开家园，同家人和朋友分离，被迫在不欢迎他们的陌生人间艰难生活。

我们有幸生活在这样一个 时代，人们意识到社会福利与人道援助不仅是有利的，而且是必须的。我很有幸生活在这样一个时代，政治犯的命运受到各地人们的广泛关注，民主与人权已经广泛 地，甚至是普遍地被认同为一种与生俱来的权利。在我被软禁期间，我时常从《世界人权宣言》的序言中获取力量。我最喜爱的几段话是这样的：

……对人权的无视和侮蔑已发展为野蛮暴行，这些暴行玷污了人类的良心，而一个人人享有言论和信仰自由并免予恐惧和匮乏的世界的来临，已被宣布为普通人民的最高愿望， ……为使人类不致迫不得已铤而走险对暴政和压迫进行反叛，有必要使人权受法治的保护……

如果有人问我，为什么要为缅甸的人权奋斗，上面两段话就是答案。如果有人问我，为什么要为缅甸的民主奋斗，那是因为我相信民主制度是人权的保证。

在过去一年里，已有迹象 表明，那些为民主和人权所作出的努力，已经开始在缅甸开花结果。朝民主化方向的一些积极的改变已经出现。如果我说我主张谨慎的乐观，不是因为我没有信心， 而是我不愿意盲目地鼓励。如果缺乏对未来的信心，缺乏对民主制度和人权基石在我们社会中不仅必要而且可能的信念，我们前进的步伐不可能在被破坏这么多年以 后依

然经久不衰。我们一些斗士被降职，一些人离开了我们，但是作为核心的奉献精神依然强大而坚定。当我回顾过去的许多年时，我惊讶于在最艰难的处境下还有 这样多坚定的奋斗者。他们对我们事业的信念不是源于盲目，而是基于对他们坚忍的力量和对人民志向的极度尊重所作出的清楚估计。

今天我能与你们在一起， 正是源于近来在我国发生的变化。这些变化能够产生，是因为你们和其他所有热爱自由与公平的人们，让全球目光都来关注我们的处境。在继续谈论我的国家之前， 请允许我先谈一谈我们的良心犯。在缅甸仍然有良心犯被关押。比较令人害怕的是，因为最著名的几个人已经得到释放，剩下的不出名的人将会被遗忘。我因为曾是 一名良心犯而站在这里。当你们看到我听我演讲的时候，请同样记住这个经常被重提的事实：只有一名良心犯仍嫌太多。在我的国家，那些尚未得到自由的，尚未沐 浴公正之光的人远远多于一人。请记住他们，为他们做一切可能的事，使他们尽早获得无条件释放。

缅甸是一个多民族，多信 仰的国家，它的未来只能建立在真正的团结精神上。自从我们1948年独立以来，整个国家从未迎来全面的和平。我们没能够建立起信任与理解来消除冲突的根 源。在90年代早期停火的时候，人们又升起了希望，直到2010年的几个月中停火又被打破。一个轻率的举动足以打破长期的停火状态。近几个月来政府和少数 族裔的谈判已经取得进展。我们希望停火协定可以带来由人民意愿所建立的稳定的政局和团结的精神。 我的政党，全国民主联盟，同我一道已经准备好在全国和解中扮演任何角色。只有当各方势力都表现出睿智的合作时，由总统吴登盛的政府推行的改革措施才能持久。这包括军队、少数族裔、各政党、媒体、国内社会组织、商业社团，还有最重要的人民大众。只有人民生活得到改善，改革才谈得上有效，国际社会需要在其中扮演重要角色。经济发展与人道主义援助，双边的共识和投资都需要互相协调，确保能够促进社会、政治和经济的均衡和可持续增

长。我们国家的潜力是巨大的。它应当孕育和发展出一个不仅繁荣，而且更加和谐与民主的社会，使我们的人民能够在和平、安全与自由中生活。

我们这个世界的和平不可分割。只要有一个地方的消极力量占了上风，我们就都处在危险之中。或许有人会问消极力量能否被根除。答案很简单：“不能！”善恶原本就共存于人性中。 然而人类同时也有增强积极力量的能力，将消极力量的影响降到最小。在我们的世界上，绝对的和平是做不到的。但这并不妨我们朝此目标进发。我们专注于目标， 就像在沙漠中的旅行者一样，一直朝着指路星的方向前进，最终必能获救。即使绝对和平因为不存在于人间而无法实现，但为了和平的努力将会把个人与个人，国家 与国家团结起来，在信任与友谊的帮助下，将我们人类社会建设得更加安全与仁爱。

我用“仁爱”这个词是经过仔细推敲的，应该说仔细推敲了许多年。苦难中的快乐并不多见，我找到的最甜蜜和最宝贵的东西是我我所学到的仁爱的价值。我所感受到的每份仁爱，不论大小，都使我确信，仁爱我们的世界上永不嫌多。仁爱是用敏感的心去体察他人的需要，是用温暖的情去响应他人的期望。即使是最轻微的仁爱触碰也可以卸下心灵的负担。仁爱可以改变人们的生活。挪威在这方面已经做出了模范式的表率。它给流离失所的人们提供家园，给那些在自己国家得不到安全与自由的人们提供避难之所。

难民遍布世界各地。当我 最近探访泰国的MeaLa难民营时，我遇见了那些为尽可能让被收容者在困苦环境中生活得更加自由而每日奋斗的人们。他们谈到关切的事情时提到“捐助疲 劳”，或者也可以被翻译为“同情疲劳”。“捐助疲劳”也就是经费短缺。“同情疲劳”就不太能够准确描述关注减少的情况。他们互为因果。我们能够承担放任同情疲劳所产生的后果吗？如果不盲目而是关注他们的遭遇的话，是满足难民生活需求的成本更高呢，还是漠

不关心造成的后果更严重呢？我呼吁世界各地的捐助者们满足这些四处寻觅的难民的需求，这些难民在庇护所的寻觅往往是徒劳的。

在MaeLa，我和泰国 负责达克省事务的官员进行了有价值的讨论，达克省中还有另外几座难民营。他们让我了解到另外一些和难民营有关的更严重的问题：暴力式的丛林法则，非法使用 药物，私酿烈酒，难以防控疟疾，结核，登革热和霍乱。政府当局的顾虑同难民的渴望一样合情合理。东道国在解决这些与职责所在的困难时，也应当得到外界的关 注和援助。 我们最终的目标是创造一 个没有被迫迁徙，没有无家可归和没有绝望的世界，一个每个角落都是真正的圣堂，每个居民都生活在自由与和平中的世界。每种想法，每一句话，每个动作都增强 了积极的力量，有益于和平。我们每一个人都有能力做出这样的贡献。让我们携起手来，试着创造一个可以安全地入睡，开心地醒来的世界。

在1991年10月14 日，诺贝尔委员会这样为它的陈述做总结：“挪威诺贝尔委员会将诺贝尔和平奖授予昂山素季，向这个女人不屈不挠的努力表示敬意，并向世界各地，致力于以和平 方式为民主、人权和民族和解而奋斗的人们表达委员会的支持。”当我参与缅甸民主运动时，我从未觉得自己会得到什么奖或者什么荣誉。我们真正要争取的奖赏， 是一个自由，安全和公平的社会，在那里，我们的人民能够意识到他们全部的潜能。获得这项荣誉，正是在于我们的努力。历史已经给予我们机会，使我们可以为我 们所相信的事业而奋斗。当诺贝尔委员会选择奖荣誉授予我时，我在自由选择的路上变得不再寂寞。为此我感谢委员会，感谢挪威人民和全世界支持与坚定我的信仰 和共同追求和平的人们。感谢你们。 Your Majesties, Your Royal Highness, Excellencies, Distinguished members of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, Dear Friends,

Long years ago, sometimes it seems many lives ago, I was at Oxford listening to the radio programme Desert Island Discs with my young son Alexander. It was a well-known programme (for all I know it still continues) on which famous people from all walks of life were invited to talk about the eight discs, the one book beside the bible and the complete works of Shakespeare, and the one luxury item they would wish to have with them were they to be marooned on a desert island. At the end of the programme, which we had both enjoyed, Alexander asked me if I thought I might ever be invited to speak on Desert Island Discs. “Why not?” I responded lightly. Since he knew that in general only celebrities took part in the programme he proceeded to ask, with genuine interest, for what reason I thought I might be invited. I considered this for a moment and then answered: “Perhaps because I‟d have won the Nobel Prize for literature,” and we both laughed. The prospect seemed pleasant but hardly probable.

(I cannot now remember why I gave that answer, perhaps because I had recently read a book by a Nobel Laureate or perhaps because the Desert Island celebrity of that day had been a famous writer.)

In 1989, when my late husband Michael Aris came to see me during my first term of house arrest, he told me that a friend, John Finnis, had nominated me for the Nobel Peace Prize. This time also I laughed. For an instant Michael looked amazed, then he realized why I was amused. The Nobel Peace Prize?

A pleasant prospect, but quite improbable! So how did I feel when I was

actually awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace? The question has been put to me many times and this is surely the most appropriate occasion on which to examine what the Nobel Prize means to me and what peace means to me.

As I have said repeatedly in many an interview, I heard the news that I had been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize on the radio one evening. It did not altogether come as a surprise because I had been mentioned as one of the

frontrunners for the prize in a number of broadcasts during the previous week. While drafting this lecture, I have tried very hard to remember what my

immediate reaction to the announcement of the award had been. I think, I can no longer be sure, it was something like: “Oh, so they‟ve decided to give it to me.” It did not seem quite real because in a sense I did not feel myself to be quite real at that time.

Often during my days of house arrest it felt as though I were no longer a part of the real world. There was the house which was my world, there was the world of others who also were not free but who were together in prison as a

community, and there was the world of the free; each was a different planet pursuing its own separate course in an indifferent universe. What the Nobel Peace Prize did was to draw me once again into the world of other human beings outside the isolated area in which I lived, to restore a sense of reality to me. This did not happen instantly, of course, but as the days and months went by and news of reactions to the award came over the airwaves, I began to understand the significance of the Nobel Prize. It had made me real once again; it had drawn me back into the wider human community. And what was more important, the Nobel Prize had drawn the attention of the world to the struggle for democracy and human rights in Burma. We were not going to be forgotten.

To be forgotten. The French say that to part is to die a little. To be forgotten too is to die a little. It is to lose some of the links that anchor us to the rest of humanity. When I met Burmese migrant workers and refugees during my recent visit to Thailand, many cried out: “Don‟t forget us!” They meant: “don‟t forget our plight, don‟t forget to do what you can to help us, don‟t forget we also belong to your world.” When the Nobel Committee awarded the Peace Prize to me they were recognizing that the oppressed and the isolated in Burma were also a part of the world, they were recognizing the oneness of humanity. So for me receiving the Nobel Peace Prize means personally extending my concerns for democracy and human rights beyond national borders. The Nobel Peace Prize opened up a door in my heart.

The Burmese concept of peace can be explained as the happiness arising from the cessation of factors that militate against the harmonious and the

wholesome. The word nyein-chan translates literally as the beneficial coolness that comes when a fire is extinguished. Fires of suffering and strife are raging around the world. In my own country, hostilities have not ceased in the far north; to the west, communal violence resulting in arson and murder were taking place just several days before I started out on the journey that has

brought me here today. News of atrocities in other reaches of the earth abound. Reports of hunger, disease, displacement, joblessness, poverty, injustice, discrimination, prejudice, bigotry; these are our daily fare. Everywhere there are negative forces eating away at the foundations of peace. Everywhere can be found thoughtless dissipation of material and human resources that are necessary for the conservation of harmony and happiness in our world.

The First World War represented a terrifying waste of youth and potential, a cruel squandering of the positive forces of our planet. The poetry of that era has a special significance for me because I first read it at a time when I was the same age as many of those young men who had to face the prospect of withering before they had barely blossomed. A young American fighting with the French Foreign Legion wrote before he was killed in action in 1916 that he would meet his death: “at some disputed barricade;” “on some scarred slope of battered hill;” “at midnight in some flaming town.” Youth and love and life perishing forever in senseless attempts to capture nameless, unremembered places. And for what? Nearly a century on, we have yet to find a satisfactory answer.

Are we not still guilty, if to a less violent degree, of recklessness, of

improvidence with regard to our future and our humanity? War is not the only arena where peace is done to death. Wherever suffering is ignored, there will be the seeds of conflict, for suffering degrades and embitters and enrages.

A positive aspect of living in isolation was that I had ample time in which to ruminate over the meaning of words and precepts that I had known and accepted all my life. As a Buddhist, I had heard about dukha, generally translated as suffering, since I was a small child. Almost on a daily basis elderly, and sometimes not so elderly, people around me would murmur “dukha, dukha” when they suffered from aches and pains or when they met with some small, annoying mishaps. However, it was only during my years of house arrest that I got around to investigating the nature of the six great dukha. These are: to be conceived, to age, to sicken, to die, to be parted from those one loves, to be forced to live in propinquity with those one does not love. I examined each of the six great sufferings, not in a religious context but in the context of our ordinary, everyday lives. If suffering were an unavoidable part of our existence, we should try to alleviate it as far as possible in practical, earthly ways. I mulled over the effectiveness of ante- and post-natal programmes and mother and childcare; of adequate facilities for the aging population; of

comprehensive health services; of compassionate nursing and hospices. I was particularly intrigued by the last two kinds of suffering: to be parted from those one loves and to be forced to live in propinquity with those one does not love. What experiences might our Lord Buddha have undergone in his own life that he had included these two states among the great sufferings? I thought of

prisoners and refugees, of migrant workers and victims of human trafficking, of that great mass of the uprooted of the earth who have been torn away from their homes, parted from families and friends, forced to live out their lives among strangers who are not always welcoming.

We are fortunate to be living in an age when social welfare and humanitarian assistance are recognized not only as desirable but necessary. I am fortunate to be living in an age when the fate of prisoners of conscience anywhere has become the concern of peoples everywhere, an age when democracy and

human rights are widely, even if not universally, accepted as the birthright of all. How often during my years under house arrest have I drawn strength from my favourite passages in the preamble to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights:

……. disregard and contempt for human rights have resulted in barbarous acts which have outraged the conscience of mankind, and the advent of a world in which human beings shall enjoy freedom of speech and belief and freedom

from fear and want has been proclaimed as the highest aspirations of the common people,

…… it is essential, if man is not to be compelled to have recourse, as a last resort, to rebellion against tyranny and oppression, that human rights should be protected by the rule of law . . .

If I am asked why I am fighting for human rights in Burma the above passages will provide the answer. If I am asked why I am fighting for democracy in Burma, it is because I believe that democratic institutions and practices are necessary for the guarantee of human rights.

Over the past year there have been signs that the endeavours of those who believe in democracy and human rights are beginning to bear fruit in Burma. There have been changes in a positive direction; steps towards

democratization have been taken. If I advocate cautious optimism it is not because I do not have faith in the future but because I do not want to

encourage blind faith. Without faith in the future, without the conviction that democratic values and fundamental human rights are not only necessary but possible for our society, our movement could not have been sustained

throughout the destroying years. Some of our warriors fell at their post, some deserted us, but a dedicated core remained strong and committed. At times when I think of the years that have passed, I am amazed that so many remained staunch under the most trying circumstances. Their faith in our

cause is not blind; it is based on a clear-eyed assessment of their own powers of endurance and a profound respect for the aspirations of our people.

It is because of recent changes in my country that I am with you today; and these changes have come about because of you and other lovers of freedom and justice who contributed towards a global awareness of our situation.

Before continuing to speak of my country, may I speak out for our prisoners of conscience. There still remain such prisoners in Burma. It is to be feared that because the best known detainees have been released, the remainder, the unknown ones, will be forgotten. I am standing here because I was once a prisoner of conscience. As you look at me and listen to me, please remember the often repeated truth that one prisoner of conscience is one too many. Those who have not yet been freed, those who have not yet been given access to the benefits of justice in my country number much more than one. Please remember them and do whatever is possible to effect their earliest, unconditional release.

Burma is a country of many ethnic nationalities and faith in its future can be founded only on a true spirit of union. Since we achieved independence in 1948, there never has been a time when we could claim the whole country was at peace. We have not been able to develop the trust and understanding

necessary to remove causes of conflict. Hopes were raised by ceasefires that were maintained from the early 1990s until 2010 when these broke down over the course of a few months. One unconsidered move can be enough to

remove long-standing ceasefires. In recent months, negotiations between the government and ethnic nationality forces have been making progress. We hope that ceasefire agreements will lead to political settlements founded on the aspirations of the peoples, and the spirit of union.

My party, the National League for Democracy, and I stand ready and willing to play any role in the process of national reconciliation. The reform measures that were put into motion by President U Thein Sein‟s government can be

sustained only with the intelligent cooperation of all internal forces: the military, our ethnic nationalities, political parties, the media, civil society organizations, the business community and, most important of all, the general public. We can say that reform is effective only if the lives of the people are improved and in this regard, the international community has a vital role to play. Development and humanitarian aid, bi-lateral agreements and investments should be coordinated and calibrated to ensure that these will promote social, political and economic growth that is balanced and sustainable. The potential of our country is enormous. This should be nurtured and developed to create not just a more prosperous but also a more harmonious, democratic society where our people can live in peace, security and freedom.

The peace of our world is indivisible. As long as negative forces are getting the better of positive forces anywhere, we are all at risk. It may be questioned whether all negative forces could ever be removed. The simple answer is: “No!” It is in human nature to contain both the positive and the negative.

However, it is also within human capability to work to reinforce the positive and to minimize or neutralize the negative. Absolute peace in our world is an

unattainable goal. But it is one towards which we must continue to journey, our eyes fixed on it as a traveller in a desert fixes his eyes on the one guiding star that will lead him to salvation. Even if we do not achieve perfect peace on earth, because perfect peace is not of this earth, common endeavours to gain peace will unite individuals and nations in trust and friendship and help to make our human community safer and kinder.

I used the word „kinder‟ after careful deliberation; I might say the careful deliberation of many years. Of the sweets of adversity, and let me say that these are not numerous, I have found the sweetest, the most precious of all, is the lesson I learnt on the value of kindness. Every kindness I received, small or big, convinced me that there could never be enough of it in our world. To be kind is to respond with sensitivity and human warmth to the hopes and needs of others. Even the briefest touch of kindness can lighten a heavy heart. Kindness can change the lives of people. Norway has shown exemplary kindness in providing a home for the displaced of the earth, offering sanctuary to those who have been cut loose from the moorings of security and freedom in their native lands.

There are refugees in all parts of the world. When I was at the Maela refugee camp in Thailand recently, I met dedicated people who were striving daily to make the lives of the inmates as free from hardship as possible. They spoke of their concern over „donor fatigue,‟ which could also translate as „compassion fatigue.‟ „Donor fatigue‟ expresses itself precisely in the reduction of funding. „Compassion fatigue‟ expresses itself less obviously in the reduction of concern. One is the consequence of the other. Can we afford to indulge in compassion fatigue? Is the cost of meeting the needs of refugees greater than

the cost that would be consequent on turning an indifferent, if not a blind, eye on their suffering? I appeal to donors the world over to fulfill the needs of these people who are in search, often it must seem to them a vain search, of refuge.

At Maela, I had valuable discussions with Thai officials responsible for the

administration of Tak province where this and several other camps are situated. They acquainted me with some of the more serious problems related to

refugee camps: violation of forestry laws, illegal drug use, home brewed spirits, the problems of controlling malaria, tuberculosis, dengue fever and cholera. The concerns of the administration are as legitimate as the concerns of the refugees. Host countries also deserve consideration and practical help in coping with the difficulties related to their responsibilities.

Ultimately our aim should be to create a world free from the displaced, the homeless and the hopeless, a world of which each and every corner is a true sanctuary where the inhabitants will have the freedom and the capacity to live in peace. Every thought, every word, and every action that adds to the positive and the wholesome is a contribution to peace. Each and every one of us is capable of making such a contribution. Let us join hands to try to create a peaceful world where we can sleep in security and wake in happiness.

The Nobel Committee concluded its statement of 14 October 1991 with the words: “In awarding the Nobel Peace Prize ... to Aung San Suu Kyi, the

Norwegian Nobel Committee wishes to honour this woman for her unflagging efforts and to show its support for the many people throughout the world who are striving to attain democracy, human rights and ethnic conciliation by

peaceful means.” When I joined the democracy movement in Burma it never occurred to me that I might ever be the recipient of any prize or honour. The prize we were working for was a free, secure and just society where our people might be able to realize their full potential. The honour lay in our endeavour. History had given us the opportunity to give of our best for a cause in which we believed. When the Nobel Committee chose to honour me, the road I had

chosen of my own free will became a less lonely path to follow. For this I thank

the Committee, the people of Norway and peoples all over the world whose support has strengthened my faith in the common quest for peace. Thank you.