August 13, 2007

I've recently returned from an amazing vacation abroad - I was a teacher at two Liberty English Camps. My experiences in Lithuania and Georgia were a refreshing reminder of why I love freedom, and of why I've been unable to walk away from pro-freedom activism, despite repeated attempts to do so. It's impossible to do justice to my adventures in the span of one essay; instead I'll try to simply provide a sketch of my experiences and observations from the two camps. (More personal observations will likely be forthcoming at my blog, Sunni and the Conspirators.)

After being accepted as a prospective teacher, my first obstacle was getting overseas: I had no passport and it wasn't a forgone conclusion that I would be willing to get one. For someone like me, staying off of the state's radar screen has become a habit, and I wasn't sure that deliberately changing that, and in such a big way, was a good idea. After some deep thought, I decided to apply for a travel permission slip, as I call them; and I was relieved when the process unfolded predictably and without mishap. I then set to preparing my materials. The objective of the Liberty English Camps is twofold: first, to provide liberty-minded students an opportunity to learn more about freedom; and second, to help them develop their English skills via intensive interactions with native speakers. My focus, unsurprisingly for those who know me, centered mostly on personal freedom.

This trip being my first international adventure in the post-9/11 security-above-all era, I was unsure of what treatment to expect at borders. Airport security was most onerous in the U.S.; I found that everywhere I traveled, being polite to the bureaucrats and securicrats made a big difference in how a person was treated. Arriving in Lithuania, my jetlag-induced mental fog was pierced by an unexpected question from the passport control official: Do you have health insurance? Unable to think quickly enough, I blurted out the honest reply, "No." Upon seeing her very bored expression change to one of surprise, I began to wonder if I would be allowed in, but, after a moment's consideration, she followed up by asking if I had a credit card. Upon my answering in the affirmative, her bored expression returned, and she stamped my papers and waved me on. That turned out to be the extent of our border-crossing difficulties.

This year's camp in Lithuania was in the small town of Daugai, a couple of hours away from Vilnius, Lithuania's capital and largest city. The lakeside setting was lovely. Apparently Lithuanians know little of judging books by their covers: many Soviet-era buildings may appear to be severely neglected, if one were to base an opinion on viewing the public areas, but the private areas can range from ramshackle to opulent. This observation was borne out repeatedly, and perhaps most dramatically in our accommodations at the camp; seeing the dormitory's exterior provoked a spike of concern, which evaporated upon seeing the modern and comfortable rooms. Glenn Cripe, this year's director, did a wonderful job of finding the location and arranging everything; unfortunately, however, the weather was most uncooperative for the duration of the camp. A chilly rain set in on the second day and didn't lift for more than a few hours at a time. That left us without a nightly campfire, which at prior camps had proved itself to be an important social magnet for facilitating informal conversation. Fortunately for me, I had two stealth "social magnets" of my own - my young children, who were along with the entire family as part of an extended European adventure. Individuals who seemed very shy of speaking to me could frequently be seen talking animatedly - and invariably with decent English, at the least - with one or both of them.

The presence of my children - especially witnessing my and Lobo's parenting styles - also served as the catalyst to some of the best discussions my classes had. Not knowing much of the English skill levels and pro-freedom backgrounds of the students while preparing for the camp, I soon discovered that much of my proposed subject matter was too abstract for some to follow, and too basic to interest others. I therefore switched my focus to drawing the students out to speak in English on any subject that interested them; many questions from them about life in the United States and similar ones from me about their countries flowed. However, a casual display of my Swiss Army knife and comments about my children's behavior led to several spirited discussions about liberty. It was most interesting (and frustrating) to me to hear several young people supporting various minimum age laws. One of the Lithuanian coordinators, Virgis Daukas, sat in on a class and spurred a good discussion on self ownership. I'd known of Virgis from a previous English Camp report, and also from the tragic story of his family's accidental mushroom poisoning which, with some help from the state, killed his wife; getting to know this exuberant, uncompromising advocate of liberty was one of the highlights of my entire adventure.

I wrote "countries" in the preceding paragraph; that wasn’t in error. Several students from Belarus traveled by bus to attend the camp; as the current government, headed by dictator Alexander Lukashenko, strictly limits Westerners' travel to the country, the Lithuanian Liberty English Camps have become the best way for freedom-minded Belarusians to interact with like-minded Americans. Although the language barrier sometimes led to misunderstandings, I was deeply impressed by the passion several Belarusian students showed for freedom. In contrast, some of the Lithuanian students seemed to be engaging in discussions with me that sometimes became more heated than just rhetorical explanations would warrant. It was therefore not too surprising to me to see some of them, in the traditional talent show on the last night of the camp, put on a skit focusing on the need for a new law. Other staff members were quite shocked and hurt by this unexpected (and perhaps unintended) slap in the philosophical face; as it hadn't happened at prior camps I ultimately attributed it to less-careful screening of student applicants than in previous years. Eventually, I decided that if any of the students in that group seriously thought about the ideas the teachers shared with them, he or she would almost certainly have to modify the faith demonstrated in democracy.

Overall - and especially in light of the chaos that arises when the reality of a situation doesn't quite match up with what was planned - I have to say the Daugai Liberty English Camp was a success. I greatly enjoyed talking with the students, and sharing my perspectives on freedom and life in the United States. Largely because of their varied and insightful questions, I have come to appreciate being born in this country more than I think I ever have; seeing the remnants of the Soviet era all over such a lovely country, and hearing of its lingering effects on the people, helped me to realize that even with recent events, America is still a better place to be - and to be from - than many other countries. I would also be greatly remiss if I failed to mention how thoroughly I enjoyed meeting and getting to know the other teachers - mostly at staff meetings at the local pub, often while enjoying a Svyturys beer. Each person was very interesting, and one became downright inspirational to me. I hope I'll be able to return to Lithuania, whether as a teacher at another Liberty English Camp or in a more conventional role.

Unlike the Lithuanian camp, this year marked the first time a Liberty English Camp was held in Georgia. Kevin Bjornson was the American organizer, and got a lot of excellent assistance from many staff members at the New Economic School of Georgia. The camp was held in the small seaside town of Gonio; for many of us, getting there involved a six-hour drive from Tbilisi. While that might not sound like the most pleasant way to spend most of a day, I looked on the bus ride as an excellent opportunity to see a lot more of the country than I would have gotten otherwise; so, despite fatigue from a redeye flight to Georgia, I did my best to keep my eyes open throughout the rainy trip over the Caucasus Mountains. My efforts were well rewarded, but a lot of what I observed mystified me. Some of the mysteries were eventually addressed by students in my classes.

The assemblage of people at this camp was even more diverse than in Lithuania: Belarusians and Ukrainians taught classes to those students whose English was minimal or nonexistent, and helped translate for them the English presentations made to the entire camp; several Azerbaijani students participated in the camp; and a Chinese individual taught classes and provided a unique, very informative perspective on getting permission to study in the U.S., and adapting to life here. A highlight for most participants was undoubtedly Ken Schoolland and family's participation. Having had a long, sporadic email correspondence with Ken, it was a delight for me to meet him in person; he is a gracious, indefatigable champion of liberty. The Liberty English Camp attracted a good amount of media attention, mostly because of Ken's participation; I'm sure that bodes well for a second camp, and many more applicants.

What really made the camp for me was the students themselves. Unlike Lithuania, which is blooming now that it's free of Soviet interference, Georgia appears to be mostly stagnant - I observed many signs, small and large, of apathy in its people. The students in my classes attributed the lack of progress to feelings of hopelessness that settled in with the Soviet regime but had lingered beyond its stay. (An evening's conversation with the NESG's vice president revealed that weak property rights and some awful legislation, especially in the area of agriculture, have aided the economic stagnation.) The students want that to change, and largely understand that freedom is the best way to accomplish such changes; many of them seemed to want specific suggestions and ideas on lifting themselves out of the status quo. Their determination moved me, and I realized with disappointment that my brief efforts to educate myself about the country before traveling abroad were not sufficient to allow me to provide the information they wanted. Despite focusing to some degree on economic improvements, my students were fully aware of cultural changes that often accompany them, and were understandably wary; we spent a lot of time exploring a wide variety of topics relating to these issues. Many of the students - and I understand this to be typical of many citizens - are proud of their heritage and culture, but the students also recognize some problems in them; their understanding of the inevitability and uncontrollability of change was impressive.

Lobo and I were both teachers at this camp, which meant juggling both topics and child care responsibilities. (As in Lithuania, our children were great at helping the students overcome shyness or awkwardness about their English skills.) We therefore didn't have time to cover all the subjects we wanted in the detail we'd hoped, but between us we presented a lot of thought-provoking ideas, touching on anarchy, entrepreneurship, firearms, storytelling, and relationships, to name just a few. Despite the lack of casual interaction with many students, I was deeply touched by how many came to say goodbye to us (we had to leave a day before the camp ended), and the kind words murmured as we hugged or shook hands. Even though we were unable, for varying reasons, to give many of the students some of the things they wanted most, it was clear that they did appreciate the camp, and all the time and effort that went into organizing and executing it. We likewise found a lot of value in it: many students eagerly shared information on Georgia's history, beautiful language, and culture. To them, and to Paata Sheshelidze and all the other wonderful people at the New Economic School–Georgia, I would like to say:

Looking back over all my experiences at the Liberty English Camps, I realized that a short statement I made nicely sums up what all of these camps accomplish. To my amazement, at the Georgian camp I found myself participating in a panel discussion on American foreign policy. The panel consisted of three Americans and one of the Russian-language teachers; we each were asked to give an opening statement summarizing our thoughts on recent American foreign policy, particularly in the Middle East. I listened with some consternation as the other two Americans offered their views, and then with a little relief as the other panelist capably challenged some of their statements. When she finished, I rose and said something like this, in part:

My comments will be short, because I disagree with all of the others on this panel. I am an anarchist, and in my view all of the problems mentioned came about because of the existence of states. Such violence is only possible because of the concentrated power states have. No matter what color the flag, no matter what language is spoken, all states get that power by stealing from individuals. They steal life - the lives of the individuals they take to fight their silly battles, whether they go by choice or by force; they steal money, in taxes and fees; they steal time and energy, by their bureaucracies and rules that keep us from living our lives and peacefully supporting ourselves the way we choose. To the degree that we believe our home state's propaganda, the stuff we read in their news and learn in their schools, we believe that people in other countries are somehow our enemies, or are dangerous to our way of life. And to the degree that we act on those beliefs, we start thinking in terms of "us-versus-them". That view keeps individuals from reaching across those imaginary lines called borders, from meeting and interacting with other individuals for themselves; it keeps us from discovering that mostly, people are like us - they just want to live their lives peacefully and raise their children. It keeps us from exchanging value amongst ourselves, from learning and growing. States create and maintain barriers between individuals, which limits our possibilities in many ways, both known and unknown.

I can't name all the individuals who deserve thanks for these terrific camps, but I would like to thank Stephen Browne and Virgis Daukas, who, as I understand the history, are the gentlemen who got the idea and organized the first Liberty English Camp. The International Society for Individual Liberty deserves thanks for their work over the years, funding and supporting the camps. Thanks also to Glenn Cripe and Kevin Bjornson for selecting me as a teacher; and deep, deep thanks to the students who attended the camps. Huge thanks are due Lobo Tiggre for his financial and other kinds of support, not only of each of the camps but of my travel as well. Some readers will recall that he and I used to collaborate on a project encouraging individuals to "do freedom"; based on my experiences at these two camps, I am hard pressed to identify other opportunities for doing freedom that provide as much return on one's investment. I am already working to be able to invest in next year's Liberty English Camps, however I can and wherever they might be.

Sunni Maravillosa is the co-founder of the Liberty Round Table, and maintains a blog. Sunni invites to you her newest project, Sunni's Salon, featuring books, music, interviews, and more from the pro-freedom culture scene. Sunni's Endervidualism Article Archive

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