What I Know

Louis H. Kuhn spent 33 years with the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) in Thailand, Indonesia, Fiji, Papua New Guinea and Sri Lanka. Now retired in Naples, he lives with his wife, Wati, whom he met while working in Sri Lanka, and their teen-age daughter. An adjunct professor of economics at FGCU and a founding member of the program committee of the Naples Council on World Affairs, Kuhn served as acting head of the USAID Program Office at the American Embassy in Dhaka, Bangladesh, in 2004, aiding victims of disastrous floods and landslides. After December's tsunami, we asked him about catastrophes and foreign aid.

The tsunami disaster was a case of terrible timing. On a Sunday, the day after Christmas? Even in non-Christian countries, Sunday is a down day, and news is going to travel slowly. The people of Aceh, in Sri Lanka-right next to the epicenter of the earthquake-didn't stand a chance. But the people elsewhere might have had time-time to get inland, time to at least get up on a roof, maybe.

Everyone was complaining that it took so long for the president to speak on what the United States was going to do to help. But the president doesn't have to make a speech before U.S. aid is available. Systems in place go into action during natural disasters and emergencies. I wish there had been more reporting on those systems, more talk about the needs and what the countries affected by the disaster were doing. I wanted to know how aid would affect places like Sri Lanka that were already torn by civil strife. But maybe I felt that way because I could picture what was happening. I'm not criticizing the press for not necessarily knowing the complexities of geographical and social issues I may have known about. And in the end, we did what we always do: We rose to the occasion.

In times of real trouble, politics moves to the sidelines and humanitarianism almost always rises to the top. Remember, one year before the tsunami, the horrific earthquake that shook Iran-Iran, part of the Axis of Evil? When Iran asked for help, we were ready with aid. That's a great thing about the American people: They've always said that it's absolutely the right thing to help other people.

Every country in the world makes aid available to other countries. It is in their national interest to do so. Afghanistan, with all its problems, sent a medical team to help the victims of the tsunami. Helping to create stable circumstances-stable families, stable neighborhoods, communities-helps create stable countries. It shows concern for allies in that part of the world. And if you can create a successful relationship by helping build one successful community vocational school in, say, Papua New Guinea, it opens up the possibility to have a successful conversation about something like preserving Papua New Guinea's rainforest. Giving aid to other countries because it's in our national and-dare I add, commercial interest-doesn't make it evil; it's reality.

That said, in giving anything, form is almost as important as substance. Giving away help and money won't make you liked. It doesn't work with your kids, and it doesn't work with countries. To take on the attitude of "I know what is best for you and I will tell you with what you need and how to use it" isn't help; it's arrogance. People need to be engaged in their own issues and committed to their own solutions.

During the disastrous floods in Bangladesh in 2004, people were incredibly resilient. Bangladesh has about 145 million people-nearly 45 percent of the total U.S. population living in a country the size of Florida. Bangladesh always floods, but that year 60 to 70 percent of the country was underwater. It was strange to be sitting in my dry office and watching the water rise around us-a visual barometer of how much needed to be done. And yet, I would see the Bangladeshis out walking to work, getting their kids, going shopping. They simply pull up their saris, their lungis-pants-and get on with it.

When I got bogged down in all that paperwork that's a huge part of a government job, it was important to remember that if done properly, paper moves things. Reviewing grant applications and reports on the progress of grant applications and projects-[that] paper meant I could move money into programs that would start helping people. I was involved with the vocational school in Papua New Guinea for seven years. I read and approved the proposal and watched as they built it from the ground up. I could see that school from my office-seven or eight concrete block buildings on a hillside. I watched as it took in its first students, and as its first graduates went out and got jobs in their community. It was a solid reminder of how paper can make a difference in the world.

It is our democratic duty, as citizens of a republic, to be informed about and engaged with the rest of the world. I'm fascinated by other cultures, art, architecture and music. I was fascinated by just walking into downtown Korat, Thailand, to go to a movie-John Wayne dubbed with a high, squeaky voice. I'm definitely not a musician, but I love jazz. When I heard gamelan, the traditional Indonesian music, I heard all the expression and feeling in that different tone scale that I heard in jazz. A group of Javanese musicians taught me to play the soran-a little gong-like instrument. We practiced for several months and then performed in a recital in Jakarta. I was the white guy on cymbals.

And that goes for countries, too. Globalization of industry, interdependency between countries on issues such as the environment, natural resources, population-isolationism is not an option. And you have to continue to reach out even when you don't think anyone is reaching back. That's diplomacy.