PDF Summary:Three Cups of Tea, by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin

In 1993, after a failed mountain climbing expedition, Greg Mortenson chanced into a remote, cliffside village in northern Pakistan whose people changed his life forever. After his time there, he vowed to build them a school—a mission that took years to accomplish. In Three Cups of Tea, Mortenson and his coauthor, David Oliver Relin, explain how helping one village grew into an even larger goal: to empower whole communities by bringing education to an often-ignored part of the world.

In our guide, we’ll describe the struggles Mortenson went through to build his first school and how his efforts led to the founding of the Central Asia Institute. We’ll explore Mortenson’s thoughts on why education matters and the lessons to be learned from other cultures. We’ll also examine the allegations that Mortenson fabricated much of his story, though good still came from his actions.

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(Shortform note: If Mortenson’s efforts were already succeeding in Pakistan, then what additional function would the CAI serve, and why did it need a board of directors? The answers are logistical, financial, and legal: Just like a small business that grows beyond what its founder can personally manage, a successful nonprofit enterprise eventually reaches the point where managing it requires multiple people to take on a variety of tasks and coordinate the work of others. The role of a board of directors, though, isn’t necessarily to manage day-to-day operations, but to provide high-level oversight to make sure an organization stays focused on its mission and makes the best use of the resources people have donated.)

The CAI Gains Momentum

Before Mortenson tried to replicate the Korphe school elsewhere, Relin says that Haji Ali advised Mortenson to cultivate relationships with village leaders throughout the region and gradually build a network of support. Mortenson did this, while also assembling a team of trusted local colleagues to manage transportation, purchase materials, and navigate the complexities of regional Pakistani politics. Once his team went to work, the CAI was able to build three schools in three months, instead of the three years it had taken to complete the school in Korphe. The lessons Mortenson learned there were now paying dividends.

Mortenson also expanded the CAI’s mandate beyond school construction. Relin states that Mortenson added a vocational center to his original Korphe school at the request of the village’s women. There, for example, they could adapt their traditional sewing techniques to be used with modern equipment, all while creating fabrics and garments they could use for trade with the world beyond their valley. Another extra step Mortenson took was to begin building systems to supply Pakistani villages with fresh water, a change that dramatically improved people’s health, especially that of infants and young children.

The CAI in Transition

Mortenson’s success with his second round of school-building is indicative of an organization moving from one stage in its life cycle to the next. According to William and Susan Bridges in Managing Transitions, the first three steps in this cycle are ideating (coming up with the initial concept), taking off (when that idea becomes real but a lot is still uncertain), and settling in (when roles and systems are more clearly defined). Relin’s description of Mortenson’s progress indicates that he was transitioning the CAI into its “settling in” phase. The Bridges write that to do so effectively requires closing the book on the old way of doing things (such as building one school at a time) and getting buy-in on the new way of doing business.

Although he ran a nonprofit, many of Mortenson’s decisions were like those of running a business. In particular, Mortenson had to decide how big the CAI should be. In The $100 Startup, Chris Guillebeau explains that to make effective decisions, the founder needs to know what their ideal vision of the future looks like: whether the organization stays small enough for them to control, or if it should grow beyond them. Guillebeau says this is a crucial question especially if you intend to expand the organization’s mission, as Mortenson did by branching into providing water for Pakistani towns. No vision is necessarily right or wrong, but how you answer “what does the future look like” will guide your choices along the way.

Friction at Home and Abroad

In the US, Mortenson’s work overseas was starting to get noticed. However, Relin recounts that Mortenson’s relationship with the CAI’s board of directors grew strained at times. They often found him difficult to work with due to his lack of regular communication. Plus, Mortenson’s insistence on minimizing costs meant that he often refused to delegate work to others. Finally, at the board’s insistence, he hired an administrative assistant to help keep the institute’s records organized and take on some of its day-to-day tasks.

(Shortform note: The relationship between Mortenson and his board of directors is further explored in Krakauer’s Three Cups of Deceit, in which he states that three CAI board members resigned in 2002 due to Mortenson’s refusal to communicate with them. One of them, Jennifer Wilson (original CAI funder Jean Hoerni’s widow) told Krakauer that Mortenson didn’t want anyone controlling how he was spending—and perhaps misusing—the institute’s money.)

In Pakistan, a more serious problem arose. Relin writes that a mullah (religious leader) who opposed women’s education issued an injunction to stop Mortenson from continuing his work. While Mortenson’s team continued their work, this injunction—a fatwa—had to be taken seriously. Thankfully, the relationships Mortenson had established in the Balti region paid off. Several religious leaders from different Islamic groups came out in support of the CAI’s work, sending their praises of Mortenson’s character directly to Iran’s Supreme Council of Ayatollahs. The council ruled in the CAI’s favor, declaring that Islam didn’t forbid non-Muslims like Mortenson from working to help Muslims.

(Shortform note: While the Ayatollahs in Iran were supportive of Mortenson’s work, other Islamic groups—in particular, the Afghanistan-based Taliban—are strongly opposed. In I Am Malala, education activist Malala Yousafzai recounts that in 2007, a decade after Mortenson built his first school, the Taliban invaded northern Pakistan and imposed their extremist interpretation of Islam, including their belief that Islamic law prohibits women’s freedoms. By the end of 2008, the Taliban had destroyed over 400 schools and announced that all girls’ schools must shut down. The Pakistani people, inspired by students like Malala, pushed back against the Taliban’s repression until they reinstated girls’ education, but only for those aged 10 and younger.)

Mortenson at War

Though Mortenson knew the Balti to be a peaceful people, central Asia is rife with geopolitical tension. As the decade ended and a new century began, those tensions erupted in a new wave of violence. Relin describes how Mortenson responded to the outbreak of war between Pakistan and India, the spread of schools funded by religious extremists, and the military crisis that afflicted the region after the US invaded neighboring Afghanistan.

The mountainous region of Kashmir, in the far north of India and Pakistan, had long been a point of contention between the two nations. In 1999, that conflict broke into open war, with constant artillery bombardment that destroyed the villages—and lives—of many in the region. Relin writes that Mortenson immediately flew to Pakistan to provide what help he could. He found thousands of refugees living in the barren desert without any access to water. Since no aid was coming from the UN or the Pakistani government, Mortenson organized the digging of deep wells and an uplift process to bring water to the surface. With this aid, the refugees’ encampment grew into a permanent settlement—one with a girls’ school built by the CAI.

(Shortform note: The water access problem is becoming one of the world’s most pressing issues. One in four people—roughly 2.1 billion—live without access to safe drinking water, and water scarcity disproportionately affects impoverished areas like the refugee camps Mortenson sought to aid. In the semi-arid regions of neighboring India, the issue has been historically addressed using stepwells—subterranean structures typically 20 to 25 meters deep, with stairs leading down to a water source. In recent years, stepwells have become the center of a large-scale project to solve India’s modern water crisis. Similar solutions may be applicable to Pakistan, but the long-standing discord between the two nations makes cooperation unlikely.)

By this time, however, the CAI wasn’t the only group building schools in the country. Relin explains that wealthy donors from Saudi Arabia were funding religious schools to spread Islam. In particular, these madrassas were there to teach Wahhabism, a fundamentalist version of the faith with close ties to extremist militant groups. Whereas the CAI’s schools offered a basic education without any overt ideological message, locals told Mortenson that the madrassas were there to recruit and train young men to be soldiers for groups like the Taliban. The CAI didn’t have the funds to build schools as large as the new madrassas—Relin says that all Mortenson could do to encourage peace was to set a more positive example.

(Shortform note: The presence of the madrassas that Relin describes dates back almost a thousand years. Historically, their purpose was to train future religious scholars and clerics, and until the 1980s, there were only a few hundred madrasas in Pakistan. However, in 1977, Pakistani General Muhammad Zia ul-Haq came to power and began a campaign of “Islamization” that included opening thousands of madrassas throughout the 1980s. By 2001, there were approximately 45,000 madrassas in Pakistan. However, according to Krakauer, Mortenson’s associates in Pakistan take issue with his depiction of madrassas in Baltistan as terrorist training centers, stating that Baltistan was free of Taliban influence at the time.)

After September 11

Relin writes that in 2001, Mortenson learned of the attack on the World Trade Center while traveling with American guests in Pakistan’s far north to promote the CAI. When they heard the news, the local villagers were kind and protective toward Mortenson and his companions. Pakistan’s government arranged for their speedy evacuation, but nevertheless, Mortenson took part a few days later in the inauguration ceremony of another new school the CAI had built. The mullah who spoke at the ceremony condemned the attacks on the US as being against the true values of Islam, which were peace, justice, and kindness toward all.

While Mortenson’s guests were sent back to the States, Relin says that Mortenson stayed behind in Islamabad, Pakistan’s capital. The city was soon overrun by Western TV crews and reporters looking for news on the war in neighboring Afghanistan. Because of his knowledge of the region, Mortenson tried to communicate the difference between extremists and everyday, peaceful Muslims. However, he grew frustrated with the media’s narrow focus on sound bites that vilified the Taliban while ignoring the larger, more nuanced problems in that part of the world. Relin writes that Mortenson’s support of the larger Muslim community garnered some hate mail back in the States, but that didn’t dissuade him from his work.

Islam, Violence, and the Media

Mortenson wasn’t an outlier in experiencing sympathy and aid from Pakistani Muslims after the 9/11 terror attacks. In 2001, Islamic leaders worldwide spoke against the attacks, citing the Koran’s injunction against any violence toward innocent bystanders. While there were some anti-American demonstrations after the attacks, they were not typical; nevertheless, they received a disproportionate amount of coverage in the US media.

The frustration Mortenson faced in communicating the complexities of the Islamic experience to Western reporters is echoed by the difficulties faced by Muslim communities in the US. Even before the 9/11 attacks, Hollywood depicted Muslims in general (and Arabs in particular) as villains and terrorists. After 9/11, this stereotype became even more prevalent. Even when TV shows and films have made an effort to portray Muslims in a more nuanced light, critics say their depictions of “good Muslims” are often simplified and slanted. More often than not, supposedly positive portrayals of Muslims in media depict them as victims of society who need to be rescued by characters who represent Western civilization.

The CAI’s Mission Grows

The outbreak of violence in Pakistan and Afghanistan could easily have hampered the CAI’s mission. Instead, it did the opposite—it made the importance of the CAI’s work glaringly clear to the rest of the world. Relin describes the CAI’s growing support in the US, and what Mortenson found in Afghanistan that prompted him to once again expand the CAI’s mandate.

First, the CAI had to overcome a funding problem. Relin reports that in the early 2000s, when its work was needed most, the CAI was desperately low on cash. Even so, Mortenson turned down an offer of US military funding, since he felt that accepting it would undermine his credibility among the Pakistani people. Instead, Relin writes that what saved the CAI was a favorable article in Parade magazine that appeared in 2003. The response was overwhelming, with over thousands of letters, emails, and donations flooding into its understaffed office. The gifts came from people of every religious faith and all walks of life. Mortenson’s call for compassion instead of bloodshed had struck a societal nerve.

(Shortform note: An infusion of cash such as the CAI received in 2003 can present an unusual problem for a nonprofit: What do do with all that money? In a regular business, a financial windfall can be paid out as dividends to investors or bonuses to employees, but nonprofits are required by law to reinvest excess funds into their operations, as Mortenson would soon do for the CAI. However, it’s not true that nonprofits aren’t allowed to make a profit at all—doing so can actually be essential to their ongoing operations. Nonprofits that don’t make more money than they spend run the risk of going broke during difficult times, which are usually the exact periods when their services are needed the most.)

Into Afghanistan

The new funds let Mortenson give raises to everyone on his Pakistan team, in addition to expanding the CAI’s infrastructure in the US. It also let him take the first steps to extend the CAI’s operations into Afghanistan. Relin says that previously, in 2002, Mortenson had gone to Kabul, Afghanistan’s capital, where he saw the aftermath of the US invasion. The few schools that were still open operated out of bombed-out buildings, where a handful of unpaid teachers led classes for thousands of children. Mortenson was deeply moved by the resolve these educators showed in continuing their work despite the ongoing hardships they endured.

(Shortform note: Mortenson’s first visit to Afghanistan came early in what would be a 20-year US military presence in the country—a conflict that would cost over 200,000 lives. In Battlegrounds, Gen. H.R. McMaster (who served in Afghanistan from 2010-2012) contends that the US’s mistake after ousting the Taliban was to not follow through on the political front. Instead, its support for the fledgling Afghan government was inconsistent due to assumptions that a new, stable democracy would naturally emerge as long as the terrorists were beaten. McMaster says that many Afghans worked hard for such an outcome, but the US’s limited and uncertain presence gave the Taliban time and space to regroup and continue the cycle of violence.)

In 2003, Mortenson returned to Afghanistan, where he wanted to begin building schools in the remote Wakhan Corridor—an isolated, mountainous “panhandle” of the country just north of where he’d first built schools in Pakistan. Relin states that Mortenson was fully aware of the challenges this new endeavor would pose—learning new customs and languages, facing unknown dangers in the Afghan highlands, and spending long stretches of time away from home. However, he viewed bringing education to yet another remote part of the world as just another mountain to climb, and a potentially impactful one on the road to establishing peace.

Stones Into Schools, or Books Into Cash?

Mortenson’s efforts in Afghanistan are chronicled in his follow-up book, Stones Into Schools (2009). In it, he describes the logistical challenges of building schools in the Wakhan region while criticizing the US government’s haphazard efforts to provide aid of its own. However, not long after that book’s publication, the allegations that Mortenson mishandled the CAI’s funds came to light.

According to 60 Minutes, the American Institute of Philanthropy’s Daniel Borochoff investigated the CAI’s financial records and found that the majority of the CAI’s donations were not being used to build schools overseas, but instead were being spent on Mortenson’s tours promoting his books in the US. In Three Cups of Deceit, Jon Krakauer alleges that Mortenson used CAI funds to purchase thousands of copies of Three Cups of Tea to use as free giveaways—sales which generated royalty payments to Mortenson out of the CAI’s funds, letting him turn donations people gave into profits for himself.

As a result of further investigations by the Montana State Attorney General, Mortenson was made to return $1 million of his personal finances to the CAI. In 2012, Mortenson left his leadership role, and he stepped away from the nonprofit entirely in 2015. In that time, the CAI’s board was restructured, and the American Institute of Philanthropy's Charity Watch (which rates the performance of nonprofit groups) now gives the Central Asia Institute a top-tier rating for charitable donations. Despite the scandals associated with Mortenson’s oversight of the group, its positive contributions to education continue.

The Lessons of Pakistan

Mortenson’s decade-long mission of building schools didn’t just bring education to Pakistan. He frequently suggests that there are also lessons that Western nations should take to heart regarding their assumptions about people who live in impoverished regions. These include the importance of listening to other cultures, the high value everyone places on education, and that ignorance is the true source of global discord.

Respect for Other Cultures

While Mortenson brought schools and other services to Pakistan’s outlying villages, he developed an appreciation for the ways in which their culture surpassed his own. He specifically comments on how people in Pakistan welcome strangers, practice patience, and build community.

First and foremost, Mortenson describes how Pakistanis use ritual and tradition to bring people together. In this, tea plays a central role. Mortenson frequently recalls casual meetings, important discussions, and negotiations that all begin with sharing tea and conversation. As Haji Ali explained to him, when you repeatedly sit down with someone over tea, they go from being outsiders to friends, and eventually become part of your family. The other tradition Mortenson comments on is prayer—even though he isn’t Muslim himself, he learned how to participate in the five daily prayers required by Islam. When doing so, he wasn’t treated like a foreigner, if only for a moment, and he learned to appreciate the way that faith creates a strong communal bond.

(Shortform note: Though tea is popular all over the world, it has a special significance in Muslim cultures as the social beverage of choice, as Mortenson noticed. Because of Islam’s ban on alcohol, families and friends come together over tea in much the same way that Westerners might share a round of beer or a bottle of wine. Likewise, it’s not uncommon for Muslims to let non-Muslims pray with them, so long as they learn and follow the proper purification steps, as Mortenson did. What varies from region to region is whether non-Muslims are allowed to enter Islamic places of worship.)

Mortenson also says that his time with the Balti taught him to solve problems by prioritizing relationships over deadlines and efficiency. This is reflected in what he describes as the people of Korphe’s nearly saint-like patience as they waited on the aid Mortenson promised and gradually worked toward their school’s completion. Their demeanor stood in stark contrast to Mortenson’s own frustration and impatience until, as mentioned earlier, Haji Ali made Mortenson slow down and let the Balti do their work. Mortenson says that the Balti leveraged their relationships with each other to achieve a group consensus that made even the most difficult tasks achievable—such as building a school atop a mountain.

(Shortform note: The relationship-first management model is one of the cultural variables that Erin Meyer discusses in The Culture Map. Whereas many Western cultures value top-down decision-making, others such as the Balti place a higher value on achieving consensus. For people like Mortenson to succeed in these cultures, Meyer echoes Haji Ali’s advice: Practice patience and plan for a longer process than you’re used to. However, even in a project that’s not consensus-driven, slowing down is a useful tool. In 1966’s The Effective Executive, Peter F. Drucker highlights the benefits of effectiveness over efficiency—taking time to get the right things done rather than adhering to a fast but poorly thought-out schedule.)

The Need for Education

In Mortenson’s view, the tragedy of Pakistan and countries like it is that its cultural richness is undermined by its people’s lack of the basic needs of life. He sees education as the main antidote, as shown by the examples of the villages he’s helped. He stresses that people everywhere want education, that educating women in particular is a boon to struggling communities, and that education must be divorced from ideology if we want to foster peace in addition to prosperity.

Many of us take it as given that education plays a vital role in lifting up communities. What Mortenson says surprised him, however, was to learn that impoverished communities value education more highly than those that take it for granted. This point was driven home for him while building the school in Korphe. A mullah from a neighboring village opposed the school and demanded a dozen of Korphe’s rams, or else he’d put a stop to the construction. Though these rams were a central part of village life, Mortenson’s friend Haji Ali complied, explaining that their children's education was far more important in the long run.

(Shortform note: Though the schools Mortenson built were meager by US standards, the amount of community support behind them has the potential to make them disproportionately effective. In Bowling Alone, social scientist Robert D. Putnam draws a clear line between a community’s “social capital”—the networks and relationships that let it function well—and the community’s rates of educational achievement. Specifically, Putnam’s research shows that high levels of community support correspond to higher test scores and lower dropout rates. While community engagement is waning in the US, Mortenson’s observations suggest that Balti villages are rich in social capital—enough to magnify a tiny school’s value to their children.)

As Mortenson evolved and refined his school-building efforts over the years, he also grew to understand that educating girls has an especially strong impact on a community’s future well-being. He says this is because—in Pakistan, at least—educated young women are more likely than young men to stay in their communities and lift them up through their efforts. He tells about a girl named Jahan, one of the top graduates from the Korphe school who went on to study medicine. Mortenson says she aspired to return to her home village, using her education to run a medical center and improve the region’s health care.

(Shortform note: Mortenson’s views on women’s education are backed up by the observations of others: In Half the Sky, journalists Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn report that empowering women through education is a driver for both economic growth and gender equity in developing nations across Africa and Asia. However, Kristoff and WuDunn say that education is just the first step—to make the most of its advantages, women also need a financial boost to turn their new skills into opportunities. Some of this can be achieved by small-scale lending initiatives that help women start small, local businesses that further benefit their communities.)

Schools for Peace

Because of Mortenson’s respect for Pakistani culture, the CAI took care to build schools that wouldn’t impose Western values. This meant designing a curriculum that avoided American cultural influences while also not catering to extremist ideology. The need for this type of neutral education was made clear by the spread of Saudi-backed Wahhabist schools whose function was to turn young men into zealots. Mortenson’s goal wasn’t to turn Korphe’s children and those of other villages into Americans, but to help them become well-rounded Pakistanis.

Mortenson is emphatic that education and humanitarian aid are the best tools for fighting extremism and violence. Extremism feeds on ignorance and single-minded thinking, which education remedies. The instigators of violence exploit chaos and hardship to rally others to their cause, whereas education brings stability and raises standards of living, all of which makes people harder to radicalize.

Education Is a Tricky Business

There are many inherent complexities involved when Western organizations like Mortenson’s CAI attempt to provide a “neutral” education, since education is often deeply intertwined with a culture’s history, values, and assumptions. Even without meaning to, neutrality itself can be a political stance—such as treating male and female students equally when gender disparities may be the norm. As such, no “neutral” curriculum can be imposed from the outside—it has to be developed in full cooperation with the community so that it effectively meets children’s needs while still providing access to a larger world of learning.

As to whether education works as a tool to prevent the rise of extremism, research suggests that it does, with certain qualifications: Education must be available to everyone, or else the disparity of access between groups can lead to sectarian resentment. Education must be high-quality, with sufficient student resources and well-trained teachers—an area in which Mortenson’s critics say he didn’t do enough. Lastly, many education groups say that to be effective, teaching must cover more than basic facts and skills—it has to help students develop reason and compassion, and to recognize that many points of view have value.

Finally, Mortenson highlights some simple math—despite the logistical and cultural barriers that he took years to overcome, building schools, hospitals, and bridges costs much less than employing military force, both in terms of money and lives. He asks us to imagine the price tag of a single missile, how many schools we could build for the same amount, and how many generations would benefit if we directed our resources with compassion and respect.

(Shortform note: The problem Mortenson identifies isn’t limited to the US or Pakistan. According to a United Nations report, global military expenditures are approaching $3 trillion annually, double what it would cost to feed and give health care to every person on the planet. Given the resources governments have, it does seem to be an “either/or” choice: Nations can fund military operations or peaceful initiatives, but rarely do they choose both at the same time. In Why We Fight, political scientist Chris Blattman suggests that conflict often wins over cooperation because of zero-sum thinking by heads of state, their unwillingness to commit to peaceful agreements, and a lack of accountability to those they put in harm’s way.)