The middle of the night. Total darknes in Songhkla mosque. Three dozen pilgrims lie on the stone floor. Yesterday they walked 20 miles in 100-degree heat. Only one is awake and already eating a breakfast of rice soup: Gothom Arya. “I need quiet time in the morning,” he says with a smile. “I’m an old man, after all.”

He is 66. He abandoned his air-conditioned university office in Bangkok to come here all the way on foot. His mission: peace. “Three people die every day, and nobody seems to care anymore.” His method - inviting hostile parties to talk to each other and moderating their discussion - sounds simple. It’s the execution that will wear you out. “I’m afraid,” he says, “of the day when the king dies.”…