Having unified most of the Indian subcontinent by force of arms in the third century B.C., the Emperor Ashoka was stricken by remorse for the suffering he had caused. He renounced violence, promoted toleration of all religions and philosophies, and dedicated his formidable leadership talents to the creation of many lasting social innovations in both economic development and public welfare. His edicts, carved on stone pillars throughout his empire, survive to bear witness to his faith in the primacy of moral law as a guide to public action.
In 1980, an American visionary, Bill Drayton, founded a non-profit organization to promote social innovation across the world. He called it Ashoka.
We asked him what he would say today to a gathering of the 760 Ashoka Fellows his organization has funded during these past fifteen years:
"I deeply admire and respect each of you, because you care; because your values have driven you to leave 'safe' and comfortable paths to serve others; because you have had the courage to become social entrepreneurs, a critical but still largely unrecognized profession; because you represent the best of what defines us as a species: caring, creativity, will to achieve, courage, applied intelligence, and wisdom. You have stared down the solid front of stuffed shirts who told you that you couldn't. I know how extraordinarily blessed I am to have you as friends and teachers."
We also asked some Ashoka Fellows to share their experience:
Lewoleba, Indonesia
"I was the only government doctor assigned to Lembata, an island of 96,000 in the Solar Alor Archipelago of eastern Indonesia. If there was a need for surgery that could not be referred to a more competent institution, I was morally obliged to take up the scalpel.
"Lembata is my place of origin, my home. Over the past seven years, I have repeatedly visited each community, one time spending 31 days walking from village to village. Traditional beliefs are strong here, and many times, I was the first doctor ever to visit. Here a doctor is seen as synonymous to healing, to life, as the implementor of the authority of 'Lera wulan tanah edan' (God). In these villages, I showed them that the cause of disease could be a result of their environment. By improving their understanding, they could improve their health.
"A doctor and his or her medication are just temporary and expensive aides. People can surmount most health problems themselves, using local resources. I do not see the need for health as identical to a need for medication, for hospitals, for doctors, or for an often exploitative medical system that relies more on treating the patient's symptoms than their ailment.
"A group of locally trained community leaders, educated in basic health care techniques, along with members of the community, can prevent and cure most illnesses together. Once, I introduced a local shrub, the bluntas, known for its healing properties. Four years later, when I revisited, almost all village yards had bluntas hedges."
Hyronimus Fernandez Johannesburg, South Africa
"My paternal grandmother was the best storyteller I ever knew. Her face, her eyes, her voice, her hands all made stories come alive for me. She always told one in answer to my many questions. She taught my mind to fly, telling me the world was much larger than our home town and was filled with all types of people. My grandmother, my mother, my father -- they taught me to respect myself first, before I could respect another. I carry this with me wherever I go.
"The idioms of my people have been an important part of my growth, teaching me wisdoms that are the backbone and survival of our culture. At an early age I was taught to work hard for anything I wanted and not expect others to do it for me. 'Ayikho inkomo yobuthongo' is a Zulu idiom meaning, 'One never earns a cow through sleeping'. Another idiom I love, from the Xhosa people -- 'Inyathi ibuzwa kwaba phambili' -- means, 'To learn something, one needs to ask those who have walked the road'.
"After high school I went to Johannesburg to look for work. Eventually storytelling pulled me like a beam of light too strong to be ignored. The spirit of my grandmother led me slowly by the hand and I obeyed with a happy heart. This does not mean that everything has happened smoothly. Life was hell in the eighties in South Africa; the Apartheid beast was still refusing to die. The state of emergency gave too many freedoms to the police for all their brutality.
"As I tried to understand what was happening, my writing was affected greatly. I had seen and experienced so much pain that there were times when I doubted the significance of what I was doing, especially in the face of so many deaths. Then the power of these ancient stories began to show me the way and give me strength. Stories can heal us inside. I worked day and night trying to understand them, sharing them with others. In May 1990, I started to go out to schools, to youth centers in different townships, and to orphanages. I told the stories and we tried to reinterpret them to make sense of the situations and times we were living in. I began to understand, in a new way, stories I had known all my life."
Gcina Mhlophe
Bhubaneswar, India
"Rag picking, polishing shoes, selling newspapers and tea, cleaning compartments of trains, or quite simply begging are among the host of occupations children rely on at the Bhubaneswar railroad station. Here, there is both fearsome loneliness and a sense of belonging -- a naked struggle for survival in a city with inner cities where people live in abject poverty. Among them are many children, abandoned, vagrant, for whom the railway station is home, a place to sleep, eat, wash, and more importantly earn a living.
"I was drawn to these children. It was a world apart from my own clean, orderly, respectable, and secure surroundings. There was a deep stirring, a churning in my mind that someone owed these children something too. They were not just part of the landscape.
"Rather impulsively, one Sunday I went to the railway platform and set up an impromptu school under a tree. That was the skill I had, the thing I knew best: to teach. There was no looking back after that day. The poor neighborhoods around the platform became alive to the benefits that even non-formal schooling could bring, even if these were intangible benefits, such as dignity, self-respect and confidence.
"The school has retained its informal structure, its accessibility, its willingness to listen and respond, and, perhaps most importantly, the will to carry out a program in its true spirit rather than abiding by the laws. We have had periods when we have struggled to survive, but we have not given up. People are always striving for a place that is secure, happy, caring and self-fulfilling for every human being born there, where sickness, destitution, violence and injustice are not seen. Is that what a mission is? If it is, maybe I would like to say it is mine."
Inderjit Khurana
Kathmandu, Nepal
"Born when women were defined solely by their roles of wife and child bearer, I too became a victim of fate and tradition. I found myself locked in a child marriage, too young to comprehend the turn my life had taken. My convictions, though, had developed early; it was too late for anyone or anything to humble the strength of my ambitions.
"Though my intellectual craving for higher education was little respected or understood, I still chose to follow my head. I became the first woman in Nepal to obtain a doctorate in law. Upon receiving my degree, I had to accompany my husband to a number of remote and backward areas of Nepal. I saw things and heard stories which shocked me. The women of Nepal needed help. They needed emancipation. They certainly needed rights. My ambitions took a reshuffling and the fight for women's rights became my new religion.
"I was greatly influenced by my mother and grandmother, always supportive of my pursuit for knowledge. They instilled in me a strong sense of justice. They taught me that it is not wrong for women to revolt against oppression and exploitation. These lessons enable me to keep faith in the face of adversity and disappointment. The fight to protect the dignity of women from social, traditional, and cultural onslaughts is, to say the least, extremely difficult and consuming. However, my insatiable passion to do everything humanly possible to uplift women and children has kept me going on this arduous path.
"For years, on account of my sex, I was looked upon with mistrust and underestimated as a lawyer. The idea of a vocal and assertive woman leaping into the forefront of society to advocate and fight for women's rights was not acceptable. I spelled trouble for many, who in turn tried to create obstacles for me every step of the way. Above all, however, the most difficult aspect of my work has been, and continues to be, reconciling the demanding and at times conflicting roles of wife, mother, lawyer, teacher and activist."
Dr.Shanta Thapalin
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