Chapter 8 of the book Adventures and Reflections. 

Openness and Development

The helicopter was packed with cement and water pipes and flew over the beautiful landscape of high mountains and deep valleys. There were no roads to Jumla, so all the materials had to be flown in. Anup and I looked out of the window, a little worried. Down in the valleys were the Maoist rebels fighting the government in Kathmandu. It was against international law to shoot at us, but maybe they didn't know that. I dismissed such thoughts and tried to enjoy the scenery instead.

The Maoists in Nepal had probably chosen a rather unfortunate name to call themselves. Their struggle was not so much about Mao as it was about abolishing the monarchy and the caste system. King Gyanendra was, in popular tradition, an incarnation of the god Vishnu, but in the eyes of the untouchables he was a symbol of oppression. Refusing to work within the framework of democracy, they took up arms in 1998. By then they controlled much of the countryside, particularly in the mountains.

Once we landed in Jumla, we loaded the cement bags onto mules – those faithful and hardy crossbreeds that are more patient than horses but less stubborn than donkeys. We also hired porters to carry the more unwieldy plastic pipes. On a previous visit to Jumla, which was controlled by government forces, we had negotiated with both sides of the conflict and ensured that our work was accepted by all. The authorities' only condition was that we could not take iron pipes, as they feared the Maoists could use them to make pipe bombs. The Maoists' demands were basically that our volunteers should not be politically active.

The mule caravan travelled from village to village along the winding river, and after a few hours we entered Maoist-controlled territory. The rice fields in Jumla are said to be among the highest in the world. From time to time we could see the majestic and enchanting Himalayas with their snow-capped peaks. Children were running around and playing in the villages, happy and curious to see us. The sanitation was really bad. It must have been like this in 17th century Sweden, I thought. From time to time we met Maoist soldiers and showed them papers from their commander saying that we had permission to work there. We climbed up mountains and down valleys, distributing materials to repair water pipes in villages. It was difficult for people to maintain their own water systems because of the conflict.

In the evening we were completely frozen, but we were able to warm ourselves by bathing in a hot spring. In an inn we sat on the dirt floor and ate with our fingers. It was tragic to hear people talk about how they were constantly caught between the demands of the combatants. They were reduced to pawns in a cruel game of power. No one took their views into account. Oppressors or revolutionaries – they thought both were equally bad.

Once we had distributed all the materials, we left the volunteers to continue the repair and maintenance work. On the way back to Jumla, we had to walk along steep paths and over wooden bridges. My knee was hurting, so I let one of the porters carry my rucksack. I thought it was quite heavy, but he carried it as lightly as a jacket.

Back in Jumla, we flew down to the Terai plains on the Indian border. There were prisons there for Maoist prisoners and our job was to improve the sanitation. One problem was that there was too much arsenic in the groundwater. So we designed a water treatment system to remove this dangerous poison. To test if the system worked, I drank a glass of water. Sometimes you just have to try to see if it works...

We went on to other prisons in the Terai, and while we were there we visited Lumbini, the birthplace of the Buddha. Buddhism is actually not that difficult to understand if you know the philosophies of Kant and Schopenhauer. Interestingly, Western and Eastern thinkers, quite independently, seem to have come to roughly the same conclusions about the ontological structure of the world. Things for us' is not at all the same as 'things in themselves'. For Buddhists, the dualism of the world is only an appearance, which in practical terms means finding an inner balance of the soul. One should have neither desire nor aversion. Desire and aversion only make you unhappy. It is better to accept things as they are. That's how you gain strength for what is positive and good.

Anup was a Hindu, so we visited Hindu temples with the elephant god Ganesha and the many-armed Vishnu. The Hindus also believed that true reality was inaccessible to the senses. I did not fully understand their philosophy, but it seemed to me that these images were somehow manifestations of an underlying reality and that they conveyed hope for a better world.

After these pious exercises, we moved on to prisons that had problems with clean water, flooding and other issues. One day, as we were installing some water tanks in Pokhara prison, we were told that all the airports and mobile phone networks in Nepal had been shut down. King Gyanendra had grown tired of all the bickering and fighting and decided to dissolve the government to restore order. "Democracy and progress are contradictory," he said. The king said he had now put democracy in 'safe custody' and would return it to the people once he had organised peace and development. And so he had the army arrest politicians, journalists and human rights activists.

My wife Martha ran a biogas company in Kenya, but she was in Nepal with me at the time. While I was working in the fields, she was hobnobbing with the upper classes in Kathmandu, playing mah-jong with the Indian ambassador's wife. One evening I was also invited to dinner at the Indian embassy. Many servants served us delicacies. Rarely have I felt so important. The Indian ambassador – the representative of the world's largest democracy – was talking to some Nepalese politicians. He told them that the Nepalese must be allowed to choose their own system, but he did not hide his disdain for the idea of a 'wise dictator ruling with a strong hand'. An interesting discussion, I thought. What are the basic arguments for democracy?

* * *

There are those who argue that democracy is a sluggish and inefficient system, characterised mostly by chatter and bickering. What can be achieved when selfish interests pull in different directions? The ideal, they say, is a strong and selfless leader who governs with paternal concern in the interests of the people. In his book The Open Society and its Enemies, Karl Popper criticised the idea that everything would be better if all power were handed over to benevolent geniuses. It doesn't work that way, he argued.

Let's first look at his view of how science develops. Popper argued that it is impossible to prove a theory by reference to observations. Even if you have seen only white swans all your life, you cannot conclude that there are no black swans. Instead, he argued that knowledge advances gradually through a kind of maturation process in which one learns from mistakes. Theories develop through a similar process:

Theory 1 → critique of weaknesses → creativity and improvement → Theory 2 → critique of weaknesses → creativity and improvement → Theory 3 ...

You start with a theory or idea that may be very modest and rough, but by paying attention to its weaknesses it can be improved step by step. It is therefore most useful to subject a theory to relentless criticism. This is what Popper meant by the word 'openness'. We should not confuse a critical attitude with the way in which theories are actually constructed. In principle, it is permissible to draw inspiration from almost anything. Many scientists claim to have discovered their best ideas through dreams, intuition, or even misunderstandings. New ideas are welcome, and it doesn't matter if they are unrealistic. A ridiculous idea can sometimes inspire someone else to come up with a brilliant one. At this stage there should be no criticism, but rather a search for arguments that confirm and strengthen the new idea. It is the testing that must be critical, Popper said. Ideas must be subjected to a bombardment of criticism, to chisel away all that is false and bad, and to see if what remains is good. If the idea survives this cruel treatment, it can be accepted, for the time being. But one must be prepared for it to be replaced at some point in the future by a better theory.

A critical attitude can also be applied in everyday life, for example when you think you've had a stroke of genius. It is certainly wise and reasonable to look for facts that confirm the validity of your idea. But you must be careful not to delude yourself. The danger is to ignore critical objections, which can create the illusion that the idea is better than it really is. It is better to assume that any such idea has weaknesses to which you are blind. An idea subjected to methodical criticism will grow and strengthen if it is good, but will wither and disappear if it is bad. It may feel unnatural to say: "I've got a new idea, could you please tell me what's wrong with it? Ideally you want to hear how good it is. But then there can never be any improvement.

Popper argued that the principles of development in science also apply to practical life in society. It is actually quite natural that democracies often progress and develop better than dictatorships. It is open and free debate that makes the difference. An idea that is argued and compared with alternatives will be rejected if it does not pass the test. Decisions are better when several points of view are considered. While the decision is being implemented, everyone must keep their eyes open to see if things are actually happening as predicted. Ideas need to be revised in the light of new facts and experience. Good plans are developed through a process of debate, trial, error, creativity and correction.

Sometimes you hear the view that you need a little "benevolent dictatorship" to impose order and development. Let me give you a simple example of why this is not a good idea. I once worked in a refugee camp and the boss's name was Markov. It was rumoured that he had previously been a soldier in the Foreign Legion, which explained his harsh temperament. It also explained his peculiar accent when he spoke French.

I must admit that at first I was impressed by Markov's ability to get things done and maintain order. But the drawbacks of such leadership soon became apparent. Particularly annoying was his tendency to divide everyone into friends and enemies, those with him and those against him. One day, Kamau, a bricklayer, told me in despair how he had been given too little cement to cast a floor in a building. He was in danger of producing something of poor quality. Markov had decided to save money on cement, but Kamau did not dare point this out. When I explained this to Markov, he was furious and said I had joined the 'opposition'. A rather trivial matter had become "politics".

Mr Markov had great charm, but sometimes he would suddenly change his tune and threaten to punch people in the face if they didn't behave. He even did it once. The only result was the spread of hypocrisy. Instead of facing the problems that inevitably arise in any work, everyone tried to hide them and make things look good. The free exchange of ideas was prevented and important information was neglected.

In fact, it is quite obvious that a state or organisation with a leadership that is closed to criticism will have difficulty adapting to reality. If the leader cannot take criticism, such problems can never be corrected. All criticism is directed downwards, towards those who have less influence and therefore less ability to make corrections. This means that a closed organisation is poor at adapting to reality.

Criticising power does not necessarily mean distrusting power and leadership. Criticism is simply a way of identifying problems. A wise leader realises that he does not have eyes everywhere. He understands that the only way to find out if things are working properly is to encourage people to point out problems. Much criticism may be unwarranted, but it is better to allow it to be voiced. Otherwise, there is a danger that legitimate criticism will be ignored.

The secret of the success of democracies is not that the "will of the people" is infallible. Politics in many countries is a farcical spectacle. But a society that does not allow many points of view to be expressed will eventually become blind. An open society has open eyes and, in the long run, is more prone to self-correction. Not all people know the art of making wise decisions, but almost everyone can see the consequences of a bad decision.

A dictatorship prefers to sacrifice people who do not serve political ideas. A democracy prefers to sacrifice political ideas that do not serve the people.