By Rosemary Morrow
I was recently in China for a month; in Shanghai and then Hong Kong, teaching permaculture teachers to teach. It was enriching, but also an opportunity to be in close contact with Chinese people and to build friendships. And these I hope are cemented for us. I was taken into homes and spent leisure time with many Chinese people from different parts of that huge nation. We spoke of the takeover of Hong Kong, of a possible invasion of Taiwan, and other such difficult subjects that really open up on a quiet walk with one or two people.
Much impressed me with the country, but something that surprised me were the peace activities.
I was working in a sustainable centre at a village about one hour from Shanghai, deep within the huge Yangtze River Delta. We were reasonably isolated from the city. We had finished the day and I wandered out of the classroom onto our balcony and gazed over the rows of vegetables. The road was a narrow, dusty one and very quiet. People on bicycles rolled by, and a man with a yoke was trotting produce home from the market.
As I looked, my eyes came into focus on the road and a group of about twenty men, women, and children were doing a circle dance. I blinked. It was the famous ELM dance, danced all over the world where people desire, live, and practice peace. I checked. Yes, that was it.
Then, as they finished, they held hands and began to sing in Mandarin, “Dear Friends, Dear Friends.” I checked the translation with a person near me. “Yes, they are singing those words.”
I was amazed that this old Quaker song was being sung, at sunset, in a small village in the Yangtze Delta by a peace group. One of my misunderstandings was that I thought peace activities were not allowed in China, but provided there is no political agenda, they are legal. They meet fortnightly, just before sunset, to learn non-violence and songs, and teach their children.
Conversations with various friends taught me that the ordinary person in China is just as concerned for peace; they don’t really listen to drum-rattling by newspapers and other media, as Australians do. They know it’s largely a show. We had deeper conversations, but these about peace, posturing, and the lack of most people’s engagement were striking.
Observing these gatherings reminded me how consistent, small acts of care, whether through music, dance, or shared learning, can cultivate resilience and social cohesion, principles that are also central to permaculture. Just as permaculture nurtures ecosystems slowly, deliberately, and sustainably, these peace practices build community from the ground up.
I also reflected on the contrast between countries with long periods of peace and those shaped by conflict. Seventy years of relative peace in China have contributed to prosperity and stability, while nations like Afghanistan, with decades of war, bear the immeasurable costs of conflict, not only in infrastructure but in social and cultural capacity.
About two weeks later, in Hong Kong, early in the morning, I was taken to the highest point in the Botanic Gardens. Apart from their impressive water management, I arrived to find the ancient statue of the Hong Kong Goddess of Love and Compassion, Qwun Yum Shan, in this monument.
It was a very lovely moment as the mist lifted and Hong Kong came to life. It was special to connect with the centuries of people who have come here searching for and finding peace.
As the mist lifted and Hong Kong came to life, I thought of lives saved, and again, how important the arts and practices of peace are.
The statue evokes the Chinese word 静 (jìng), which encompasses silence, stillness, serenity, tranquility, contemplation, profound insight, and eternal joy. These qualities, so vital to healing from trauma and rebuilding life after disruption, resonate deeply with permaculture ethics: the care of land, the nurturing of communities, and the cultivation of long-term resilience.
In refugee contexts, peace is not only the absence of violence. It is found in still moments of safety, in shared meals, in tending soil together, in children learning without fear. These are the quiet practices that resist despair and cultivate hope.
Across cultures, we are more alike than we know. And peace, like permaculture, is something we practise, together, over time.
In peace,
Rosemary Morrow
Blue Mountain Local Meeting, November 5, 2025