 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
VIENTIANE, LAOS — The flight from Bangkok to Laos was full of tourists. It was less difficult to clear customs there than when arriving back in the U.S. I didn't see a cop on the street until the evening. Sandwiched amidst Vietnam, Cambodia, and Thailand, Laos has a third world, not communist, feel.
Behind the gentle facade lurks a mailed fist, however. The State Department's new report on religious liberty notes restrictions on the right to worship in Laos. Naturally, the Laotian government rejected Washington's criticism, claiming that the charges "contradict the reality of religious freedom" in Laos. However, one doesn't have to travel far in Laos to see the persecution of minority faiths, and particularly of Christians. There are numerous Christians in this largely Buddhist country of 5.4 million. But their ability to practice varies by village and changes over time. What was once permitted often ends up prohibited. A concerted assault on religious liberty began with the communist takeover in 1975, which yielded what one local Christian termed, with profound understatement, a "new government." Even greater hostility towards Christianity became evident during the early 1990s; Hmong believers were a particular target given that tribal people's long resistance to the communist regime and past cooperation with America. Persecution, confirmed by Amnesty International and Christian groups, as well as the State Department, has grown more intense over the last two years, earning Laos a number-two ranking on the Open Doors International Persecution list. Since 2000 an estimated 60 churches and other religious institutions have been closed; several church buildings have been confiscated. More than 250 Christian pastors and church leaders are thought to have been arrested, though no one knows for sure. Estimates of the number who remain in custody ranged up to 100 earlier this year, according the Maranatha Christian News Service. Believers are reported to have been coerced into signing declarations renouncing their "foreign religion"; there are stories, which my group wasn't able to confirm directly, of believers in some villages being forced to partake of pagan rituals. Believers even in the freer areas that we visited feared that at least some Laotian officials desired to eliminate the church. Yet my visit to Laos also found some signs of hope. Before the most recent round of persecutions, an estimated 1,100 churches were operating. Even today, the church exists above ground. For instance, there are three or four large churches, with hundreds of members each, in the capital of Vientiane; we drove by the Lao Evangelical Church, with its sign proudly standing in front. However, they must register, explained one underground activist, and operate under the watchful eye of the government. Moreover, Vientiane has indicated its willingness to allow foreign Christian organizations to operate, so long as their activities were "arranged through the government," the worker explained. "People were helping the church secretly," which "the authorities didn't like." So the government is trying to pull religious activities to the surface. This comes as no surprise. The government, through its Department of Religious Affairs, has long attempted to ensure that Buddhism is practiced in conformity with communist principles. The department forbids Christians from proselytizing or distributing religious materials. One young professional, who organizes activities in the capital, warned: "if you work with the government, they will send someone to work with you," with the goal of preventing evangelism. It appears to be the Chinese solution, observed an American who has aided some underground churches: "I'm not surprised that Laos has caught on." Despite the ban, several professionals in Vientiane use their jobs to promote church growth. They move about freely and are rarely bothered; even our small group of Westerners didn't generate any apparent interest from the authorities. Joining the local activists, we attempted to reach both the church and share the Gospel with those outside by distributing medicine. But any unusual activity risks unwanted attention. One Christian wanted us to provide educational materials for rural schools. He allowed, however, that "I'd be scared if I received too much," since the authorities would notice. The Vientiane organizer said that he is often under surveillance. The "government is very suspicious" of meetings, especially those with foreigners, he observed. If Vientiane suspected that a church or organization was being subsidized from abroad, it would "put a cop in front of a person's house every day." Religious life generally becomes more difficult as one moves further away from Vientiane. Much depends on the whims of local officials. We visited a small house church close to the capital. "In this village we have no problems with the government," one of the local church leaders told me. The official view was that Christianity taught "everyone to be a good person," which was fine. Roughly ten percent of the villagers are Christians — higher than the national average — and many of their neighbors join them to celebrate Christmas, one told me. Moreover, the village head, who is not a believer, stopped by and invited us to return any time. His friendly attitude was probably enhanced by the fact that our Christian host gave medicine to non-Christian families, including the official's. Although this home group is not registered with the government, it works with one of the Vientiane churches. Thus, its activities, though not monitored in detail, are known. Still, observed one of the church leaders, "it's like a small business, not a big business, so we can operate without government interference." When we went another couple dozen miles outside of the capital, we encountered a more difficult situation. A group of worshippers received local permission to construct a simple church, which they used for months without incident. A couple of years ago, however, "someone in the village told the government in Vientiane," explained a woman active in the local congregation. The central authorities ordered local officials to stop the practice. They did, but the village head, an unbeliever but a friend of her husband, suggested that they meet in her home. They continue to do so today. When our Western team moved further into rural Laos the situation worsened notably. The most virulent examples of persecution have been carried out by distant authorities, who often take the lead in suppressing Christian worship. The Vientiane activist who has sometimes found himself spied upon warned us against venturing into unknown villages. As white Westerners, we would be immediately suspect. It came as no surprise, then, when our Christian host would not let us leave our vehicle, its windows conveniently tinted to prevent easy identification, in some areas. In these communities, local believers are closely monitored, and the arrival of foreigners, he explained, would "mean big trouble" for everyone. Local officials are more likely to be promoted the more they report, including the activities of Christians. Particularly frustrating is the fact that even Laotian Christians are not sure about the real position of the local and central governments. Last year the authorities "persecuted Christian people a lot," complained my host. For example, he figures that local officials closed down 26 of 30 above ground churches in southern Laos. Some Laotians with whom we spoke thought that Vientiane was secretly encouraging the campaign and reports to that effect have circulated through groups such as the international Christian group Jubilee Campaign. Yet our host wasn't sure that was the case. He worked with many of the closed churches and said it appears that the Vientiane government was "concerned about appearances overseas" and therefore opposed the crackdown. "Local officials and the government were fighting," he explained, with the national authorities preferring to "leave the churches alone." The American's take was similar: "Vientiane is show and tell time. But it looks like the further away you go from Vientiane, the tougher it is." Despite the hardships, things "are better for Christians now," opined my host, who continues to visit underground churches. "But we still have to be careful." Nevertheless, the worshippers — many of them farmers and laborers who possess little in this world — in the churches that we visited were not discouraged. "Every family helps each other," one told me. And if freedom ever comes, the Laotian believers are ready. The woman whose church was closed at Vientiane's insistence told us that the owner of the building, now unused and decrepit, has promised them the land for a new church. "If the government gives permission to build, we're ready," she said. And she obviously looked forward to that day with emotion. There are no easy solutions. Laotian Christians are free to worship openly in some places. They aren't free to do so in others. Says one American who has followed religious persecution: "It's like China — everything they say is true somewhere." Western Christians can help. We can do whatever is possible with the government's consent to aid legal congregations. We can use Laos's relative openness to tourists to work informally with house churches, bringing in Bibles, distributing aid, and encouraging believers. We can embarrass the communist government by being salt and light to Laotians, providing medical assistance, for instance, to believer and nonbeliever alike. One Christian health-care worker told us that a communist delegation which recently visited Thailand was angry on seeing that the Christian hospitals are better than those constructed by the Lao government. Western Christians can labor mightily to publicize abuses and pressure on the regime to liberalize. We know that international attention criticism: Even the isolated communist regime in Vientiane worries about its reputation. And Christians can pray. Aggressive ideological communism may be dead, but detritus from that disastrous social experiment continues to clutter the globe. As in Laos, where a languid style of life cannot hide the vicious repression, especially of Christians. — Robert James Lee is a writer who recently visited Laos. He and those with whom he met must remain anonymous to avoid retaliation from the Laotian government. |
|
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||
<% dim printurl
printurl = Request.ServerVariables("URL")%>
