Nobel Prize

Aung San Suu Kyi – Speed read

Aung San Suu Kyi was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for her non-violent struggle for democracy and human rights in Myanmar.

Full name: Aung San Suu Kyi
Born: 19 June 1945, Rangoon, Burma (now Yangon, Myanmar)
Date awarded: 14 October 1991

Champion of democracy

Aung San Suu Kyi led the opposition to the military dictatorship in her native Myanmar (Burma). In 1988, she was among the founders of the National League for Democracy (NLD). Inspired by Mahatma Gandhi, she renounced all use of violence and called on the generals to turn over their rule to a civilian government. In the 1990 elections, NLD won a clear victory, but the military junta refused to allow the parliament to convene. Aung San Suu Kyi was placed under house arrest. The 1991 Nobel Peace Prize supported Aung San Suu Kyi in her struggle for democracy. It served to protect her and helped keep international focus on the military dictatorship. After 21 years, most of which she spent in house arrest, Aung San Suu Kyi was released in November 2010. On 1 April 2012, she was elected into the Burmese parliament.

Her father’s legacy

Aung San Suu Kyi carries on the legacy of her father, Aung San. He led Burma’s struggle for national independence from the United Kingdom in the 1940s and was in the process of drawing up a new constitution when he was assassinated by political opponents in 1947. The large-scale pro-democracy demonstrations in the late 1980s showed that Aung San had not been forgotten.

The struggle for democracy must be fought at home

The Burmese generals would have preferred to have Aung San Suu Kyi living in exile, but she refused to leave the country. The magnitude of her decision became evident when her British husband was diagnosed with advanced cancer. The military regime refused him entry into Burma, offering instead to allow her to travel abroad. She refused their offer for fear that the government would not allow her back into the country. Her continued struggle for freedom in Burma had to take precedence over her wish to see her husband on his deathbed. He died in 1999 at the age of 53.

Two Nobel Prize award ceremonies

Because Aung San Suu Kyi could not attend the award ceremony in 1991, her Nobel Prize medal and diploma were accepted by her two sons. Her elder son, Alexander, gave a brief speech on his mother’s behalf. 21 years later, in June 2012, Aung San Suu Kyi was able to come to Oslo and hold her Nobel Prize lecture: “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.”

Silence over the plight of the Rohingya minority

In 2017, reports of violence by Myanmar’s military forces against civilian Rohingyas sparked worldwide attention and dismay. Ever since, Aung San Suu Kyi has been facing intense scrutiny and criticism over her response to the situation. While recognising that she has limited power over the military, critics underline her responsibility to use her political position and moral authority and publicly distance herself from human rights abuses against the Rohingya minority.

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Biography of Aung San Suu Kyi

1942: September 6. Marriage of Aung San, commander of the Burma Independence Army, and Ma Khin Kyi (becoming Daw Khin Kyi), senior nurse of Rangoon General Hospital, where he had recovered from the rigours of the march into Burma …

Disclaimer: Every effort has been made by the publisher to credit organisations and individuals with regard to the supply of photographs. Please notify the publishers regarding corrections.

Statement by the Norwegian Nobel Committee

10 January 2022

Statement of the situation of Aung San Suu Kyi

The latest verdict against Aung San Suu Kyi is a politically motivated verdict. Thirty years after she was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, Aung San Suu Kyi is still the leading advocate for democracy in Myanmar. The Norwegian Nobel Committee is deeply concerned about her situation.

2 February 2021

Statement by the Norwegian Nobel Committee, 1 February 2021, on the situation in Myanmar

The Norwegian Nobel Committee is appalled by the military coup in Myanmar and the arrest of Nobel Peace Prize laureate Aung San Suu Kyi, president Win Myint and other political leaders. Aung San Suu Kyi was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for 1991 in recognition of her brave struggle for democracy in Myanmar. She has continued to be a leading figure in developing democracy, both during the years when she was kept captive by the military and after her subsequent release. Now, 30 years after she was awarded the Peace Prize, the military has once again pushed democracy aside and arrested leading representatives of the legally elected government. The Norwegian Nobel Committee asks for the immediate release of Aung San Suu Kyi and other arrested politicians, and for the result of last year’s general election to be respected.

The Nobel Peace Prize 1991

Aung San Suu Kyi – Nobelforedrag

Aung San Suu Kyi delivering her Nobel Lecture in the Oslo City Hall, 16 June, 2012.

English
Norwegian

Nobelforedrag av Aung San Suu Kyi, Oslo, 16. juni 2012.

Deres Majesteter, Deres Kongelige Høyheter, Eksellenser, ærede medlemmer av den norske Nobelkomiteen, kjære venner,

For mange år siden, av og til virker det som mange liv siden, satt jeg i Oxford og hørte på radioprogrammet Desert Island Discs sammen med min lille sønn Alexander. Det dreide seg om et kjent program (for alt jeg vet, er det fortsatt det i dag) hvor berømte mennesker fra ulike samfunnslag ble invitert til å snakke om de åtte platene, den ene boken ved siden av Bibelen og Shakespeares fullstendige verker, den ene luksusgjenstanden som de ville hatt med seg dersom de var strandet på en øde øy. På slutten av programmet, som vi begge hadde kost oss med, spurte Alexander meg om jeg trodde at jeg noen gang kom til å bli invitert til Desert Island Discs. “Hvorfor ikke?” svarte jeg uten å tenke over det. Siden han visste at det vanligvis bare var berømtheter som ble invitert til programmet, spurte han derfor, med uforfalsket interesse, hva som ville være grunnen til at jeg kunne bli invitert dit. Jeg tenkte over spørsmålet en stund, og svarte: “Kanskje fordi jeg hadde vunnet Nobelprisen i litteratur,” og så lo vi begge to. Utsikten til noe slikt var hyggelig nok, men veldig lite sannsynlig.

(Jeg husker ikke hvorfor jeg svarte på den måten, kanskje fordi jeg nettopp hadde lest en bok skrevet av en Nobelprisvinner eller kanskje fordi den berømte personen som var invitert til Desert Island denne dagen var en berømt forfatter.)

I 1989, da min avdøde mann Michael Aris kom for å besøke meg under min første periode i husarrest, fortalte han meg at en venn, John Finnis, hadde nominert meg til Nobels fredspris. Da måtte jeg også le. Et øyeblikk så Michael forbauset ut, så skjønte han hvorfor jeg lo. Nobels fredspris? En hyggelig tanke, men temmelig usannsynlig! Så hva var det jeg egentlig følte da jeg faktisk ble tildelt Nobels fredspris? Dette spørsmålet har jeg fått mange ganger og denne anledningen har uten tvil gitt meg en utmerket mulighet til å reflektere over hva Nobelprisen betyr for meg og hva fred betyr for meg.

Som jeg har sagt det om og om igjen i en rekke intervjuer, hørte jeg nyheten om at jeg hadde fått Nobels fredspris på radioen en kveld. Det kom ikke helt overraskende på meg, siden jeg var blitt nevnt som en av favorittene til å vinne prisen i mange radio- og TV-programmer uken i forveien. Under arbeidet med dette foredraget har jeg anstrengt meg hardt for å forsøke å huske hva min umiddelbare reaksjon var da jeg fikk vite at jeg hadde fått prisen. Jeg tror, uten at jeg er helt sikker lenger, at det var noe slikt som: “Å, så de har bestemt seg for å gi den til meg.” Det hele var litt uvirkelig fordi jeg på den tiden på sett og vis følte det som om jeg var litt uvirkelig selv.

Mens jeg satt i husarrest hadde jeg ofte følelsen av at jeg ikke lenger var en del av virkelighetens verden. For meg var huset min verden, det fantes også en verden hvor det var andre som ikke var frie, men som var en del av et fengselsfellesskap, og så var det de fries verden; hver av disse var ulike planeter som fulgte sin egen bane i et likegyldig univers. Det Nobels fredspris gjorde, var at jeg igjen ble trukket inn i den verdenen som andre mennesker levde i utenfor mitt isolerte område meg og at min virkelighetsfølelse ble gjenopprettet. Dette skjedde selvsagt ikke umiddelbart, men etter hvert som dagene og månedene gikk og nyheter om reaksjonene på pristildelingen nådde fram til meg over radioen, begynte jeg å skjønne hvilken betydning Nobelprisen har. Den gjorde meg virkelig igjen, den trakk meg inn i et større menneskelig fellesskap igjen. Og enda viktigere var det at Nobelprisen gjorde at verdens oppmerksomhet ble rettet mot kampen for demokrati og menneskerettigheter i Burma. Vi kom ikke til å bli glemt.

Å bli glemt. Franskmennene sier at å skilles er å dø litt. Å bli glemt er å dø litt. Det er å miste noen av de båndene som knytter oss til resten av menneskeheten. Da jeg møtte migrantarbeidere og flyktninger fra Burma i Thailand nylig, var det mange som ropte ut: “Ikke glem oss!”. De mente  “ikke glem våre prøvelser, ikke glem å gjøre hva dere kan for å hjelpe oss, ikke glem at også vi tilhører deres verden.” Da Nobelkomiteen ga meg fredsprisen, var det en anerkjennelse av at også de undertrykte og isolerte i Burma er en del av verden og at menneskeheten hører sammen som en enhet. For meg personlig betyr det å motta Nobels fredspris at min kamp for demokrati og menneskerettigheter utvider seg og strekker seg ut over de nasjonale landegrensene. Nobels fredspris åpnet en dør i hjertet mitt.

Den burmesiske forestillingen om fred kan forklares som den lykken som oppstår når faktorer som motvirker det harmoniske og det gode forsvinner. Ordet nyein-chan betyr bokstavelig oversatt den velgjørende kjøligheten som oppstår når en brann er slukket. Branner i form av lidelse og ufred herjer rundt om i verden. I mitt eget land er det fortsatt fiendtligheter i nord, i vest pågikk det voldshandlinger mellom ulike grupper som resulterte i mordbranner og drap bare få dager før jeg la ut på den reisen som brakte meg hit i dag. Nyheter om grusomheter rundt om i verden er det ingen mangelvare på. Meldinger om hungersnød, sykdommer, fordrevne mennesker, arbeidsledighet, fattigdom, urettferdighet, diskriminering, fordommer, hykleri; alt dette er dagligdags kost. Overalt finnes det negative krefter som tærer på fredens fundament. Overalt ser vi en tankeløs sløsing med materielle og menneskelige ressurser som er nødvendige for å opprettholde harmoni og lykke i verden.

Første verdenskrig var en forferdelig sløsing med ungdom og potensiale, der klodens positive krefter brutalt ble skuslet bort. Lyrikken fra den perioden har en helt spesiell betydning for meg fordi jeg leste den på et tidspunkt hvor jeg var like gammel som mange av disse unge mennene som stod overfor muligheten for at de ville bli borte før de såvidt hadde rukket å blomstre. En ung amerikaner som kjempet sammen med den franske fremmedlegionen skrev før han ble drept i kamp i 1916, at han ville gå døden i møte:  “ved en eller annen omstridt barrikade;” “i en eller annen rasert skråning på en sønderskutt høyde;” “ved midnatt i en eller annen by som står i flammer.” Ungdom og kjærlighet og liv forsvinner for alltid i et meningsløst forsøk på å innta navnløse og glemte steder. Og hvorfor? Etter snart hundre år har vi ennå ikke funnet noe tilfredsstillende svar på dette spørsmålet.

Er det ikke slik at vi også i dag gjør oss skyldige i uaktsomhet og uforsiktighet overfor vår fremtid og vår menneskehet, selv om det skjer på en mindre voldelig måte? Krig er ikke den eneste arenaen hvor det er mye prat om fred uten resultat. Overalt der hvor lidelsen blir ignorert, sås det kimer til konflikt, for lidelsen bryter ned, skaper bitterhet og raseri.

En positiv side ved å leve i isolasjon var at jeg hadde god tid til å tenke over meningen med ord og begreper som jeg hadde kjent til og akseptert hele mitt liv. Som buddhist hadde jeg hørt om dukkha, som vanligvis oversettes med lidelse, helt siden jeg var et lite barn. Nesten hver eneste dag brukte eldre mennesker, og av og til ikke fullt så gamle mennesker, rundt meg å hviske “dukkha, dukkha” når de slet med plager og hadde det vondt eller når de støtte på små, kjedelige uhell. Det var imidlertid først i løpet av de årene hvor jeg satt i husarrest at jeg virkelig fikk satt meg inn i de seks store dukkhaene. Disse er: å bli unnfanget, å bli eldre, å bli syk, å bli skilt fra sine kjære, å bli tvunget til å leve tett sammen med andre enn sine kjære. Jeg gransket hver og en av disse seks store lidelsene, ikke mot en religiøs bakgrunn, men ut fra vårt vanlige daglige liv. Hvis det er slik at lidelsen er en uunngåelig del av vår eksistens, burde vi forsøke å dempe den så mye som mulig på en praktisk og jordnær måte. Jeg grublet over effektiviteten ved ulike oppfølgingsprogrammer knyttet til tiden før og etter en fødsel, omsorg for mor og barn, egnede mottaksstrukturer for eldre; omfattende helsetjenester; omsorgsfull sykepleie og hospicer. Jeg så spesielt på de to siste formene for lidelse: å bli skilt fra sine kjære og bli tvunget til å leve tett sammen med andre enn sine kjære. Hva var det Buddha kunne ha opplevd i sitt liv som gjorde at han tok med disse to siste formene for store lidelser? Jeg tenkte på fengselsinnsatte og flyktninger, migrantarbeidere og traffickingofre, på de mange som må bryte opp fra sine røtter og som har blitt revet vekk fra sine hjem, som har blitt skilt fra familie og venner og som har blitt tvunget til å leve sitt liv blant fremmede som ikke alltid er like imøtekommende.

Vi er så heldige at vi lever i en tidsalder hvor sosial velferd og humanitær bistand ses på ikke bare som ønskelig, men som nødvendig. Jeg er så heldig at jeg lever i en tidsalder hvor skjebnen til samvittighetsfanger, hvor de enn måtte befinne seg i verden, er noe som opptar folk overalt, en tidsalder hvor demokrati og menneskerettigheter er alminnelig, om enn ikke universelt akseptert som en fødselsrett for alle. I løpet av de årene hvor jeg satt i husarrest, hvor ofte hendte det ikke at jeg hentet styrke fra mine yndlingsavsnitt i innledningen til Verdenserklæringen om menneskerettigheter:

……. da tilsidesettelsen og forakt for menneskerettighetene har ført til barbariske handlinger som har rystet menneskehetens samvittighet, og framveksten av en verden hvor menneskene har tale- og trosfrihet og frihet fra frykt og nød, er blitt kunngjort som folkenes høyeste mål,

……det er nødvendig at menneskerettighetene blir beskyttet av loven for at menneskene ikke skal tvinges til som siste utvei å gjøre opprør mot tyranni og undertrykkelse .. .

Hvis jeg blir spurt om hvorfor jeg kjemper for menneskerettigheter i Burma, ligger svaret i nettopp disse to avsnittene. Hvis jeg blir spurt om hvorfor jeg kjemper for demokrati i Burma er det fordi jeg mener at demokratiske institusjoner og praksis er nødvendig for å ivareta menneskerettighetene.

I løpet av det siste året har det vært tegn som tyder på at anstrengelsene til de som tror på demokrati og menneskerettigheter begynner å bære frukter i Burma. Det har skjedd endringer i positiv retning; det er tatt steg i retning av en demokratisering. Når jeg maner til forsiktig optimisme, er det ikke fordi jeg ikke har tro på fremtiden, men fordi jeg ikke vil oppmuntre til blind tro. Uten tro på fremtiden, uten en overbevisning om at demokratiske verdier og grunnleggende menneskerettigheter ikke bare er nødvendig, men mulig for vårt samfunn, ville vår bevegelse ikke ha kunne overlevd alle disse ødeleggende årene. Noen av våre krigere falt på sin post, noen deserterte, men en hard kjerne opprettholdt sitt brennende engasjement. Av og til når jeg tenker over alle disse årene som er gått, er jeg forbløffet over at så mange har holdt ut under så vanskelige forhold. Det er ikke fordi de tror blindt på vår sak, det baserer seg på en klarsynt vurdering av utholdenhetens makt og en dyp respekt for vårt folks forhåpninger.

Det er på grunn av de endringer som har skjedd i mitt land den siste tiden at jeg er sammen med dere her i dag, og disse endringene har skjedd takket være dere og alle andre tilhengere av frihet og rettferdighet som har bidratt til å skape global oppmerksomhet om vår situasjon. Før jeg går videre til å snakke om mitt hjemland, la meg si noen ord om våre samvittighetsfanger. Det finnes fortsatt slike fanger i Burma. Det er grunn til å frykte at fordi de aller mest kjente av de  innsatte nå er løslatt, vil alle de andre – de ukjente – bli glemt. Jeg står her i dag fordi jeg en gang var en samvittighetsfange. Når dere ser på meg og lytter til meg, glem ikke det man ofte hører, nemlig at én samvittighetsfange er én for mye. Det er mange flere enn én som ennå ikke er satt fri, som ennå ikke har fått tilgang til rettsapparatet i mitt land. Jeg ber dere om å ikke glemme dem og gjøre deres ytterste for at de skal bli løslatt raskt og uten betingelser.

Burma er et land med mange etniske nasjonaliteter og skal man skape tro på landets fremtid må den være basert på en følelse av ekte samhold. Helt siden vi fikk vår uavhengighet i 1948, har vi aldri kunnet si at det har vært fred over hele landet. Vi har ikke vært i stand til å bygge den tilliten og forståelsen som er nødvendig for å fjerne årsakene til konflikt. Håpet steg med våpenhvilen som varte fra midten av 1990-tallet og frem til 2010, da den brøt sammen i løpet av få måneder. En ubetenksomhet kan være nok til å ødelegge en langvarig våpenhvile. I de siste par månedene er det gjort fremskritt i forhandlingene mellom regjeringen og styrker bestående av ulike etniske nasjonaliteter. Vi håper at våpenhvileavtaler vil føre til politiske løsninger basert på folks forhåpninger og på en følelse av samhold.

Både mitt parti, National League for Democracy, og jeg er klare og villige til å påta oss en hvilken som helst slags rolle i den nasjonale forsoningsprosessen. Reformtiltakene som ble satt i gang av regjeringen til President U Thein Sein kan kun videreføres dersom det oppstår et intelligent samarbeid mellom alle indre krefter : militæret, våre etniske nasjonaliteter, politiske partier, media, organisasjoner i det sivile samfunn, næringslivet og fremfor alt, det brede publikum. Det er bare hvis folks liv blir bedre at vi kan si at reformene virker og i den forbindelse har det internasjonale samfunnet en viktig rolle å spille. Utvikling og humanitær bistand, bilaterale avtaler og investeringer bør samordnes og kalibreres for å sikre at man fremmer en balansert og bærekraftig sosial, politisk og økonomisk vekst. Vårt land har et enormt potensiale, som må næres og utvikles for å skape ikke bare et mer fremgangsrikt, men også et mer harmonisk og demokratisk samfunn hvor vårt folk kan leve i fred, sikkerhet og frihet.

Fred i vår verden er et udelelig gode. Så lenge de negative kreftene vinner over de positive kreftene, uansett hvor det måtte være, er vi alle i fare. Spørsmålet blir om man noensinne vil kunne fjerne alle negative krefter. Det enkle svaret er: “Nei”. Det ligger i den menneskelige natur at den inneholder både det positive og det negative. Mennesket er imidlertid også i stand til å styrke det positive og minimere eller nøytralisere det negative. Absolutt fred i verden er et uoppnåelig mål, men det er et mål vi må forsøke å nærme oss, og vi må holde blikket festet på dette målet akkurat slik en reisende som krysser ørkenen holder blikket festet på den ene ledestjernen som vil berge ham. Selv om vi ikke oppnår en perfekt fred i verden, fordi en perfekt fred ikke hører denne verden til, vil en felles innsats for å skape fred samle individer og nasjoner i tillit og vennskap og bidra til at vårt menneskelige fellesskap blir tryggere og vennligere.

Jeg har valgt ordet ‘vennligere’ etter nøye overveielser, og jeg kan godt si etter nøye overveielser i flere år.  Når det gjelder motgangens sødme, og la meg si at den ikke finnes i noe stort monn, er jeg av den oppfatning at den beste og mest verdifulle sødmen jeg har opplevd er det jeg har lært om vennlighet. Hver eneste vennlighet som ble vist meg, det være seg liten eller stor, overbeviste meg om at det aldri vil bli for mye vennlighet i verden. Å være vennlig er å reagere med følsomhet og menneskelig varme på andres håp og behov. Selv det minste anstrøk av vennlighet kan lette et tungt hjerte. Vennlighet kan endre folks liv. Norge har utvist en eksemplarisk vennlighet ved å tilby et hjem til jordens fordrevne, et tilfluktssted for dem som har fått kuttet over båndene til sikkerhet og frihet i sitt hjemland.

Det finnes flyktninger overalt i verden. Da jeg nylig besøkte Maela flyktningeleir i Thailand, møtte jeg engasjerte mennesker som hver eneste dag forsøkte å gjøre livene til de som levde et vanskelig liv i flyktningeleiren litt lettere. De snakket om sin bekymring for ‘givertretthet,’ som også kan oversettes som ‘medfølelsestretthet.’ ‘Givertretthet’ gir seg klare utslag i reduserte bevilgninger. ‘Medfølelsestretthet’ gir seg mindre klare utslag ved at folk føler seg mindre berørt. Det ene følger av det andre. Har vi råd til å innlate oss på en slik medfølelsestretthet? Er kostnadene ved å dekke flyktningenes behov større enn kostnadene som følger av å snu, om ikke det blinde, så i hvert fall det likegyldige øyet til deres lidelser? Jeg vil rette en appell til givere rundt om i verden om å dekke behovene til mennesker som er på leting etter et tilfluktssted, en leting som ofte må fremstå som nyttesløs for dem.

I Maela hadde jeg nyttige diskusjoner med thailandske tjenestmenn som hadde ansvar for å administrere Tak-provinsen, hvor denne og flere andre leire ligger. De satte meg inn i noen av de mer alvorlige problemene som er knyttet til flyktningeleire: brudd på skogbrukslovgivningen, ulovlig narkotikabruk, hjemmebrenning, problemer med å kontrollere malaria, tuberkulose, denguefeber og kolera. Administrasjonens bekymringer er like berettigede som flyktningenes bekymringer. Vertslandene fortjener også å bli tatt hensyn til og de trenger praktisk hjelp til å takle de vanskelighetene som deres oppgave medfører.

Vårt endelige mål bør være å skape en verden uten fordrevne, hjemløse og mennesker uten håp, en verden hvor alle verdenshjørner er tilfluktssteder hvor innbyggerne har frihet og mulighet til å leve i fred. Hver tanke, hvert ord og hver handling som bidrar til det positive og det gode er et bidrag til fred. Hver og en av oss er i stand til å yte et slikt bidrag. La oss rekke hverandre hendene i et forsøk på å skape en fredelig verden hvor vi kan sove trygt og våkne opp lykkelige.

Nobelkomiteen avsluttet sin erklæring 14. oktober 1991 med følgende ord: “Ved å gi Nobels fredspris …. til Aung San Suu Kyi, ønsker den norske Nobelkomité å hedre denne kvinnen for hennes utrettelige innsats og vise sin støtte til de mange folkene rundt om i verden som kjemper for å oppnå demokrati, menneskerettigheter og etnisk forsoning ved å ta i bruk fredelige midler.” Da jeg sluttet meg til demokratibevegelsen i Burma falt det meg aldri inn at jeg noensinne skulle motta en ærespris. Den prisen vi jobbet for var et fritt, trygt og rettferdig samfunn som skulle gjøre det mulig for vårt folk å realisere sitt fulle og hele potensiale. Æren lå i våre anstrengelser. Historien ga oss muligheten til å yte vårt beste for en sak som vi trodde på. Da Nobelkomiteen valgte å hedre meg på denne måten, ble den veien jeg hadde valgt av egen fri vilje en mindre ensom vei å gå. Det vil jeg takke komiteen, det norske folk og folk rundt om i verden for. De har gjennom sin støtte styrket min tro på en felles søken etter fred. Tusen takk.

Aung San Suu Kyi – Nobel Lecture

Aung San Suu Kyi delivering her Nobel Lecture in the Oslo City Hall, 16 June, 2012.

English
Norwegian

Nobel Lecture by Aung San Suu Kyi, Oslo, 16 June, 2012

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.

Aung San Suu Kyi – Other resources

Links to other sites

Profile: Aung San Suu Kyi from BBC News

Aung San Suu Kyi – Photo gallery

Aung San Suu Kyi at the Oslo City Hall, 16 June 2012.

Copyright © Nobel Media AB 2012 Produced by NRK

Thorbjørn Jagland, Chairman of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, delivering his speech at the ceremony in the Oslo City Hall.

Copyright © Nobel Media AB 2012 Produced by NRK

Aung San Suu Kyi delivering her Nobel Lecture at the Oslo City Hall, Norway, on 16 June 2012.

Copyright © Nobel Media AB 2012 Produced by NRK

Aung San Suu Kyi and Thorbjørn Jagland, Chairman of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, in the Oslo City Hall, 16 June, 2012.

Copyright © The Nobel Foundation 2012 Photo: Ken Opprann

Chairman of the Norwegian Nobel Committee Thorbjørn Jagland, 1991 Nobel Peace Prize Laureate Aung San Suu Kyi and Kaci Kullmann Five, Deputy Chairman of the Nobel Committee, at the Oslo City Hall.

Copyright © Nobel Media AB 2012 Produced by NRK

The Norwegian Royal Family. Left to right: King Harald V, Queen Sonja and Crown Prince Haakon at the Oslo City Hall.

Copyright © Nobel Media AB 2012 Produced by NRK

Aung San Suu Kyi's son Kim Aris (middle).

Copyright © Nobel Media AB 2012 Produced by NRK

Aung San Suu Kyi views the exhibition "Mother Democracy" at the Nobel Peace Center. Director Bente Erichsen and exhibition manager Liv Astrid Sverdrup give a tour together with Thorbjørn Jagland, Chairman of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, on 16 June 2012.

Copyright © Nobel Peace Center/Nobel Media AB 2012 Photo: Sara Johannessen

Aung San Suu Kyi in front of a photo of herself at the exhibition at Nobel Peace Center in Oslo.

Copyright © Nobel Peace Center/Nobel Media AB 2012 Photo: Sara Johannessen

Many Burmese in exile waited to enter the Nobel Peace Center, where Aung San Suu Kyi gave a speech in Burmese.

Copyright © Nobel Peace Center/Nobel Media AB 2012 Photo: Sara Johannessen

Aung San Suu Kyi on her way out from the Nobel Peace Center in Oslo, Norway, to the Oslo City Hall where 12,000 people were waiting to greet her.

Copyright © Nobel Peace Center/Nobel Media AB 2012 Photo: Sara Johannessen

Aung San Suu Kyi in the first row, Crown Prince Haakon (left) and Thorbjørn Jagland, Chairman of the Norwegian Nobel Committee (right), on stage during the celebration in downtown Oslo on 16 June 2012.

Copyright © Nobel Peace Center/Nobel Media AB 2012 Photo: Sara Johannessen

Aung San Suu Kyi lights the flame of peace with Alva (12) and Vetle (12) from Save the Children.

Copyright © Nobel Peace Center/Nobel Media AB 2012 Photo: Sara Johannessen

Aung San Suu Kyi is greeted during the celebration outside City Hall in Oslo.

Copyright © Nobel Peace Center/Nobel Media AB 2012 Photo: Sara Johannessen

Many people greeted Aung San Suu Kyi outside Oslo City Hall.

Copyright © Nobel Peace Center/Nobel Media AB 2012 Photo: Sara Johannessen

Aung San Suu Kyi makes a speech on stage during the celebration.

Copyright © Nobel Peace Center/Nobel Media AB 2012 Photo: Sara Johannessen

Aung San Suu Kyi on stage during the celebration, where 12,000 people attended.

Copyright © Nobel Peace Center/Nobel Media AB 2012 Photo: Sara Johannessen

Aung San Suu Kyi arrives in Oslo on 15 June, 2012.

Copyright © The Nobel Foundation 2012 Photo: Ken Opprann

Aung San Suu Kyi's son Alexander Aris delivering the acceptance speech on behalf of his mother, at the Nobel Peace Prize Award Ceremony in Oslo, 10 December 1991. Aung San Suu Kyi was under house arrest and unable to receive the prize.

© Norsk Rikskringkasting AS 2012

From left: Francis Sejersted, Chairman of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, Alexander and Kim Aris, sons of Aung San Suu Kyi, with her Nobel Medal and Diploma, and Aung San Suu Kyi's husband, Michael Aris, at the 1991 Nobel Peace Prize Ceremony.

Copyright © Norsk Rikskringkasting AS 2012

Aung San Suu Kyi arrives to give a speech to supporters during the 2012 by-election campaign at her constituency Kawhmu township, Myanmar, on 22 March 2012.

Photo: Htoo Tay Zar, OpenMyanmar Photo Project Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0

Aung San Suu Kyi gives a speech to supporters at Hlaing Thar Yar Township in Yangon, Myanmar on 17 November 2011.

Photo: Htoo Tay Zar, OpenMyanmar Photo Project Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0

Suu Kyi greeting supporters from Bago State on 14 August 2011, on her first political trip to Bago since her release from house arrest in 2010.

Photo: Htoo Tay Zar, OpenMyanmar Photo Project Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0

Aung San Suu Kyi, political activist and Nobel Peace Prize Laureate, 7 December 2010.

Source: Flickr, Creative Commons Photo: makeroadssafe

Aung San Suu Kyi meets with crowd after house arrest lift on 14 November 2010.

Photo: Htoo Tay Zar, OpenMyanmar Photo Project Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0

Aung San Suu Kyi at the age of 6, in 1951.

Source: Wikimedia Commons Photographer unknown

A family portrait, with Aung San Suu Kyi (in white) as a toddler in the front, taken in 1947, shortly before her father's assassination.

Source: Wikimedia Commons Photographer unknown

Speech by Thorbjørn Jagland

Norwegian
English

© THE NOBEL FOUNDATION 2012
General permission is granted for the publication in newspapers in any language. Publication in periodicals or books, or in digital or electronic forms, otherwise than in summary, requires the consent of the Foundation. On all publications in full or in major parts the above underlined copyright notice must be applied.

Chairman of the Norwegian Nobel Committee Thorbjørn Jagland’s speech at Aung San Suu Kyi’s Nobel Lecture, Oslo, 16 June, 2012

Your Majesties, Your Royal Highness, Nobel Peace Prize Laureate, Your Excellencies, Ladies and Gentlemen,

Dear Aung San Suu Kyi,

We have been waiting for you for a very long time. However, we are well aware that your wait has been infinitely trying for you and of an entirely different nature than ours. But please know this: In your isolation, you have become a moral leader for the whole world.

Today’s event is one of the most remarkable in the entire history of the Nobel prizes. In 1991, you were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for “one of the most extraordinary examples of civil courage in Asia in recent decades”. In the Committee’s opinion, the Prize would support the many people throughout the world “who are striving to attain democracy, human rights and ethnic conciliation by peaceful means”.

The 21-year interim has proved the Committee right about this.

But it is you, Aung San Suu Kyi, who translated the Committee’s words into reality. Through your awe-inspiring tenacity, sacrifice, and firmness of principle. Your voice became increasingly clear the more the military regime tried to isolate you.

Your cause mobilised your people and prevailed over a massive military junta. Whenever your name is mentioned or when you speak, your words bring new energy and hope to the entire world.

Ladies and gentlemen,

We have seen it so many times before: weapons and uniforms without any moral grounding in universal human rights are doomed to fail, sooner or later. Fortunately, in today’s world, human rights do not recognise national frontiers. Oppressive rulers who abuse these rights with brutal power must know that there will always be courageous individuals who will oppose them. The world wants to keep an eye on the oppressors.

Suu Kyi could not attend the prize award ceremony on 10 December 1991. Granted, she could probably have left her country, but she was afraid that the military regime would be so pleased to see her gone that they would refuse to let her back in again. Other prize laureates who have been unable to come to Oslo to accept their medals have also earned a place in the annals of history: Carl von Ossietzky for his battle against Hitler’s Germany, Andrei Sakharov and Lech Walesa for their fight against Soviet Communism and Liu Xiaobo for his struggle to promote human rights in China.

Now, Aung San Suu Kyi is finally here. We hope that Liu Xiaobo will not have to wait as long as she has had to before he can come to Oslo.

Aung San Suu Kyi is the daughter of the great Aung San, leader of Burma’s struggle for liberation. He was murdered before completing his fight for freedom. His daughter was just two years old at the time. Her mother was later appointed Burma’s ambassador to India. The daughter got a world-class education in her native country, in India, at Oxford, and in Kyoto and New York. In 1972, she married Michael Aris, a professor and an authority on Tibetan Buddhism. They have two children, Alexander and Kim.

Initially, Suu Kyi did not show much interest in Burmese politics, but she became more and more interested in Burmese history, her father’s fight for freedom, Buddhism and Gandhi’s policy of non-violence. Her many letters to her husband made it increasingly clear: “I only ask one thing, that should my people need me, you would help me to do my duty by them”. She could also fall into the clutches of fear: “Sometimes I am beset by fears that circumstances and national considerations might tear us apart just when we are so happy in each other that separation would be a torment”.

In March 1988, after 28 years abroad, Suu Kyi was informed that her mother had suffered a stroke.The next day, she left for Rangoon to care for her ailing mother.

At the time, the military regime that had run Burma since 1962 was in the throes of crisis.The old dictator Ne Win had to formally step aside. Demonstrations broke out. Many lost their lives when military forces fired into the crowds. It was not long before Suu Kyi was involved in what became known as Burma’s second fight for freedom. As Aung San’s daughter and with her indisputable ability as a speaker, she soon emerged as the leader of the opposition. In her first major speech, she addressed herself to “reverend monks and people”: “This public rally is aimed at informing the whole world of the will of the people. Our purpose is to show that the entire people entertain the keenest desire for a multi-party democratic system of government”.

Although her mother passed away, Suu Kyi remained in Burma. The military grew to fear the rapid rise in her popularity and placed her in “restricted residence”.

They had promised to hold free elections and they probably overestimated their chances of winning. To be on the safe side, though, they initiated a large-scale campaign against Suu Kyi. She was accused of being too foreign, and of knowing too little about Burma after spending 28 years abroad. She responded: “They claim that I know too little about Burmese politics. The trouble is that I know too much.”

Suu Kyi’s party, the National League for Democracy, won 392 of the 485 seats in the national assembly. Nonetheless, the military ignored the result. Aung San Suu Kyi remained under house arrest.

Like so many times before, the Norwegian Nobel Committee reacted.

We all remember the ceremony in 1991. The Nobel Committee had arranged for two Burmese musicians to fly in from Los Angeles to play Suu Kyi’s favourite piece. That same piece will be played here again today. The high point of that ceremony was the speech that her son Alexander delivered on behalf of his mother. He emphasised that the prize was not primarily an award for his mother, but for the many who fought for democracy in Burma under very difficult conditions. He expressed the hope that even within the military forces, there might be people who wanted victory for democracy. “I know that within the military there are those to whom the present policies of fear and repression are abhorrent, violating the most sacred principles of Buddhist heritage. It was a conviction my mother reached in the course of her dealings with those in positions of authority”.

We Norwegians still remember Alexander’s words well: “The Burmese can today hold their heads a little higher in their knowledge that in this far distant land their suffering has been heard and heeded”.

We never forgot Aung San Suu Kyi. When we celebrated the 100th anniversary of the Nobel Peace Prize in 2001 with more than 30 peace prize laureates in attendance, we left one chair empty. The appeals for your freedom have been many.

Dear Aung San Suu Kyi,

You have always held a place in our hearts.

We have asked ourselves all along where you draw your strength from. Isolated from the outside world. In the beginning, your family was allowed to visit you. This was because the authorities thought your family would manage to convince you to leave the country. When that failed, they were no longer allowed to visit you. Even when your husband’s life was ebbing away due to cancer, he was not allowed in. When the authorities opened a package from your family and used the contents, consisting of a lipstick and an exercise video, against you, you refused to accept supplies from the outside. You sold furniture to buy food. Deficiency diseases became a problem.

You must have had infinite faith in your cause. In our common cause. Like Nelson Mandela, you could reach out to your prison guards. Like Liu Xiaobo, you could say “I have no enemies”. In your own words recently: “I have tremendous good will towards the military. So it doesn’t bother me to sit with them.”

We know that you have become a true humanitarian through Buddhism and meditation. The idea of love, tenderness, “metta” (meditation), carries your message: “Not only should one speak only the truth, one’s speech should lead to harmony, it should be kind and pleasant and it should be beneficial”.

No bitterness, no animosity.

Only a true champion for mankind can behave like that.

We must also remind one another of what fear is, and that its counterpart is hope. In your essay Freedom from Fear, you write: “within a system which denies the existence of basic human rights fear tends to be the order of the day. Fear of imprisonment, fear of torture, fear of death, fear of losing friends, family, property or means of livelihood, fear of poverty, fear of failure”.

Rulers also feel fear. They are not as powerful as they might appear to be. They get up every morning, afraid of the people. Because deep down, they know that there are things greater than fear, for example, hope and courage.

This is the reason for the downfall of every dictatorship. Their fear of the fearlessness of the people is so great that control of the people is preventing the innovation needed in every country. The lack of control over the elite leads to corruption and the abuse of power. The combination of control of the people and the lack of control of the elite leads to misrule and stagnation, and ultimately to revolution.

Consequently, the democracies of the world should not despair today when they see authoritarian regimes outpacing their economic growth. This is temporary. The regimes will be broken apart by inner contradictions.

The democracies will always find new paths. The democracies have come out winners in history because the people can elect new leaders when the old ones fail.

And democracies are peacemakers. Democracy creates fraternity across national frontiers and within national frontiers. This was probably what Alfred Nobel understood. For that reason, he wrote in his last will and testament that the Nobel Peace Prize should be awarded to the one “who shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between nations”. That was one of his three criteria for the Nobel Peace Prize. Few people meet this criterion better than you.

A true fraternity among all the ethnic groups in Burma and the neighbouring countries starts with free elections, with free people.

Few believed that the dissolution of the military junta and the appointment of Thein Sein as president just over a year ago would have brought such major changes. But something happened. Aung San Suu Kyi was released. Political prisoners were released from prisons. The media could operate more independently. Cease-fires were signed with the ethnic minorities. The huge dam project with China was suspended, sending a clear signal of change to the surrounding world.

But your struggle is still not over. It created quite a sensation when you answered the question of where you would place the democratic development of Burma on a scale from one to ten: “we are approaching one”. The question could hardly have been answered more clearly.

Dear Aung San Suu Kyi,

You carry a heavy burden on your shoulders. No one can be certain of what the future will bring. But today you are here. And we know for sure that you can return home.

I will conclude by reiterating the words of the chair of the Nobel Committee in 1991. Francis Sejersted expressed the hope that your struggle would be crowned with victory. He concluded by urging people to “show humility and show fearlessness – like Aung San Suu Kyi. The result may be a better world to live in.”

Few have done more than you have to make the world a better place for all of us. We thank you for your fearlessness, your tenacity and your strength, and we wish you the best of luck with the important work ahead of you.

Thank you all for your attention!

Tale av Thorbjørn Jagland

Norwegian
English

© THE NOBEL FOUNDATION 2012
General permission is granted for the publication in newspapers in any language. Publication in periodicals or books, or in digital or electronic forms, otherwise than in summary, requires the consent of the Foundation. On all publications in full or in major parts the above underlined copyright notice must be applied.

Leder av Den Norske Nobelkomite Thorbjørn Jaglands tale ved Aung San Suu Kyis Nobelforedrag, Oslo, 16. juni, 2012.

Deres Majesteter, Deres Kongelige Høyhet, Prisvinner, Eksellenser, Mine damer og herrer,

Kjære Aung San Suu Kyi,

Vi har ventet lenge på deg. Din ventetid har vært ufattelig krevende for deg og av en helt annen karakter enn vår. Men det skal du vite: I isolasjon ble du en moralsk leder for hele verden.

Dagen i dag er en av de mest bemerkelsesverdige i hele Nobelhistorien. I 1991 fikk du Nobels Fredspris for å være “en av de mest ekstraordinære eksempler på sivilt mot i Asia i de senere tiår”. Prisen ville etter komiteens mening tjene som en oppmuntring til de mange over hele verden «som kjemper for demokrati, menneskerettigheter og etnisk forsoning med fredelige midler”.

De 21 årene vi har bak oss, har gitt komiteen rett i akkurat dette.

Men det er altså, du, Aung San Suu Kyi, som har gitt komiteen rett. Gjennom din egen ufattelige utholdenhet, forsakelse og prinsippfasthet. Din stemme ble klarere og klarere jo mer militærregimet prøvde å isolere deg.

Din sak mobiliserte ditt folk og vant over et massivt militærapparat. Når ditt navn nevnes eller når du snakker, gir du ny energi og håp til en hel verden.

Mine damer og herrer,

Vi har sett det så mange ganger før: våpen og uniformer uten moralsk forankring i de universelle menneskerettighetene er før eller senere dømt til å tape. Verden er heldigvis blitt slik at menneskerettighetene ikke kjenner noen landegrenser. Makthavere som undertrykker disse rettighetene med brutal makt, må vite at det alltid vil finnes modige mennesker som vil sette seg opp mot dem. Verden vil ha sine øyne på undertrykkerne.

Suu Kyi kunne ikke komme til prisseremonien 10. desember 1991. Hun kunne nok få reise ut, men hun var redd for at militærregimet ville bli så altfor glad for at hun dro og nekte henne å komme tilbake. Andre fredsprisvinnere som ikke kunne komme til Oslo for å motta sine medaljer, har også skrevet sine navn inn i historien: Carl von Ossietzky for sin kamp mot Hitler-Tyskland, Andrej Sakharov og Lech Walesa for deres kamp mot Sovjetkommunismen og Liu Xiaobo for sin kamp for menneskerettigheter i Kina.

Nå er Aung San Suu Kyi endelig her. Vi håper at Liu Xiaobo ikke må vente like lenge som henne før han kan komme til Oslo.

Aung San Suu Kyi er datter av den store Aung San som ledet kampen for Burmas frigjøring. Før han fikk fullført frigjøringskampen ble han myrdet. Da var datteren bare to år. Moren ble senere Burmas ambassadør i India. Datteren fikk en utmerket utdannelse i hjemlandet, i India, i Oxford, Kyoto og New York. I 1972 ble hun gift med Michael Aris, professor og en autoritet på tibetansk buddhisme. De fikk to barn, Alexander og Kim.

Suu Kyi viste først ikke så stor interesse for burmesisk politikk, men ble mer og mer engasjert i burmesisk historie, farens frigjøringskamp, buddhismen og Gandhis ikke-voldspolitikk. I sine mange brev til ektemannen gjorde hun det stadig klarere: “I only ask one thing, that should my people need me, you would help me to do my duty by them”. Hun kunne bli grepet av frykt: “Sometimes I am beset by fears that circumstances and national considerations might tear us apart just when we are so happy in each other that separation would be a torment”.

I mars 1988, etter 28 år i utlandet fikk hun beskjed om at moren hadde fått slag. Hun reiste neste dag til Rangoon for å pleie sin syke mor.

Militærregimet som hadde styrt Burma siden 1962, var da inne i en krise. Den gamle diktator Ne Win måtte formelt tre til side. Demonstrasjoner brøt ut. Mange mistet livet da de militære skjøt inn i folkemassene. Snart var Suu Kyi oppe i det som ble kalt Burmas andre frigjøringskamp. Som Aung Sans datter og med sine utvilsomme evner som taler, stod hun raskt fram som opposisjonens leder. I sin første store tale henvendte hun seg til “reverend monks and people”: “This public rally is aimed at informing the whole world of the will of the people. Our purpose is to show that the entire people entertain the keenest desire for a multi-party democratic system of government”.

Moren døde, men Suu Kyi forble i Burma. De militære ble redde for hennes raskt stigende popularitet og plasserte henne i “restricted residence”.

De hadde lovet å holde frie valg og overvurderte sikkert sine muligheter til å vinne. Men for sikkerhets skyld satte de i gang en stor kampanje mot Suu Kyi. Hun ble anklaget for å være for utenlandsk, for å kjenne for lite til Burma etter sine 28 år i utlandet. Hun svarte: “they claim that I know too little about Burmese politics. The trouble is that I know too much.”

Suu Kyis parti, den nasjonale liga for demokrati, vant 392 av de 485 plassene i nasjonalforsamlingen. Men de militære ignorerte resultatet. Aung San Suu Kyi ble sittende i husarrest.

Som så mange ganger før reagerte Den Norske Nobelkomite.

Vi husker alle seremonien i 1991. Nobelkomiteen hadde fått fløyet inn fra Los Angeles to burmesiske musikere som spilte Suu Kyis favorittstykke. Det samme stykket blir spilt igjen her i dag. Seremoniens høydepunkt var sønnen Alexanders tale som han holdt på vegne av sin mor. Han understreket at prisen ikke først og fremst var en pris til moren, men til de mange som kjempet for demokrati i Burma under vanskelige vilkår. Han uttrykket håpet om at det selv innenfor de militære styrker kunne finnes folk som ville la demokratiet seire. “I know that within the military are those to whom the present policies of fear and repression are abhorrent, violating the most sacred principles of Buddist heritage. It was a conviction my mother reached in the course of her dealings with those in positions of authority”.

Vi nordmenn husker det ennå godt da Alexander uttalte: “the Burmese can today hold their heads a little higher in their knowledge that in this far distant land their suffering has been heard and heeded”.

Vi glemte aldri Aung San Suu Kyi. Da vi feiret 100-årsjubileet for fredsprisen med over 30 fredsprisvinnere til stede i 2001, holdt vi en stol tom. Appellene for din frihet var mange.

Kjære Aung San Suu Kyi,

Du har alltid vært i våre hjerter.

Vi har hele tiden spurt oss selv, hvor hentet du kreftene fra. Isolert fra omverdenen. I begynnelsen fikk du besøk fra familien. Fordi myndighetene trodde familien ville klare å overtale deg til å forlate landet. Da det ikke virket, fikk de ikke besøke deg lenger. Selv da din ektemanns liv gikk mot slutten på grunn av kreft, fikk han ikke slippe inn. Da myndighetene åpnet en pakke fra familien og brukte innholdet som bestod av en leppestift og en trimvideo mot deg, nektet du å ta i mot forsyninger utenfra. Du solgte møbler for å skaffe mat. Mangelsykdommer oppstod.

Du må ha hatt en ufattelig tro på din egen sak. På vår felles sak. Som en Nelson Mandela kunne du strekke ut en hånd til dine fangevoktere. Som Liu Xiaobo kunne du si ” I have no enemies”. I dine egne ord nylig: ” I have tremendous good will towards the military. So it doesn’t bother me to sit with them.”

Vi vet at du gjennom buddhismen og meditasjon er blitt en sann menneskevenn. Ideen om kjærlighet, ømhet, “metta”, er det bærende: “Not only should one speak only the truth, one’s speech should lead to harmony, it should be kind and pleasant and it should be beneficial”.

Ingen bitterhet, intet fiendskap.

Bare en menneskehetens gigant kan opptre slik.

Vi må også minne hverandre om hva frykt er og at motstykket er håp. I ditt essay Freedom from Fear skriver du: “within a system which denies the existence of basic human rights fear tends to be the order of the day. Fear of imprisonment, fear of torture, fear of death, fear of losing friends, family, property or means of livelihood, fear of poverty, fear of failure”.

Også makthaverne kjenner frykten. De er ikke så mektige som de ser ut til. De står opp hver morgen og er redde for folket. For innerst inne vet de at det er noe som er større enn frykten: håpet og motet.

Dette er grunnen til ethvert diktaturs nederlag. Frykten for folkets mot er så stor at kontrollen av folket hindrer den innovasjon ethvert land trenger. Mangel på kontroll av eliten fører til korrupsjon og misbruk av makt. Kombinasjonen av kontroll av folket og mangel på kontroll av eliten fører til vanstyre og stagnasjon og til slutt til revolusjon.

Demokratiene i verden skal derfor ikke fortvile når de i dag ser at autoritære regimer har større økonomisk vekst enn dem selv. Det er temporært. Regimene vil bli brutt ned av indre motsetninger.

Demokratiene vil alltid finne nye veier. Demokratiene er historiens vinnere fordi folket kan velge nye ledere når de gamle er gått ut på dato.

Og demokratiene er fredsskapere. Demokrati skaper forbrødring over landegrensene og innenfor landegrensene. Det var nok dette Alfred Nobel forstod. Derfor skrev han i sitt testamente at fredsprisen skulle gå til den som arbeidet for “folkenes forbrødring”. Dette var et av hans tre kriterier for fredsprisen. Få oppfyller dette kriteriet bedre enn deg.

En sann forbrødring mellom alle de etniske gruppene i Burma og med nabolandene starter med den frie stemmeseddelen, med frie mennesker.

Få trodde at oppløsningen av militærjuntaen og innsettingen av Thein Sein som president bare for vel et år siden ville føre til vesentlige endringer. Men noe skjedde. Aung San Suu Kyi ble satt fri. Politiske fanger ble sluppet ut fra fengslene. Media kunne operere friere. Våpenhviler ble inngått med de etniske minoritetene. Det store damprosjektet med Kina ble suspendert, et klart signal om forandring overfor omverdenen.

Men din kamp er ikke over. Det gjorde sterkt inntrykk da du som svar på spørsmål om hvor du ville plassere den demokratiske utviklingen i Burma på en skala fra en til ti, svarte: “we are approaching one”. Tydeligere kunne det ikke sies.

Kjære Aung San Suu Kyi,

Det hviler en tung bør på dine skuldre. Ingen kan være sikre på hva fremtiden vil bringe. Men i dag er du her. Og vi vet at du kan reise tilbake.

Jeg vil avslutte med ordene til Nobelkomiteens leder i 1991. Francis Sejersted uttrykte håpet om at din kamp vil bli kronet med seier. Han avsluttet med å oppfordre til å vise «ydmykhet og fryktløshet – som Aung San Suu Kyi. Resultatet vil bli en bedre verden å leve i.”

Få har gjort mer enn deg for å gjøre verden til en bedre plass for oss alle. Vi takker deg for ditt mot, din utholdenhet og din styrke og ønsker deg lykke til i det store arbeid som ligger foran deg.

Takk for oppmerksomheten!

Aung San Suu Kyi – Nobel Lecture

Read the Nobel Lecture

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Norwegian

Read the speech by Thorbjørn Jagland, Chairman of the Norwegian Nobel Committee

English
Norwegian