Search Results for “SAFe-SASM Test Prep 🩧 Exam SAFe-SASM Braindumps 🏧 SAFe-SASM New Dumps 😝 The page for free download of ⏩ SAFe-SASM âȘ on 《 www.pdfvce.com 》 will open immediately đŸ§ČReliable SAFe-SASM Test Topics”

Peacemaker Hero: John Wallach
My Hero

On July 10, 2002, Seeds of Peace Founder and President John Wallach died of cancer. Janet Wallach, who accepted the role of Interim President, wrote in an August letter that “John fought the disease as courageously as he fought for peace.”

In January 2003, Aaron David Miller became President of Seeds of Peace. Miller is a scholar and historian specializing in the Middle East and over the past twenty years has advised six Secretaries of State on Middle East policy.

Read an exclusive My Hero interview with two Seeds of Peace members!

As a foreign correspondent in the Middle East for two decades, John Wallach had already witnessed numerous instances of violent conflict. But it was the 1993 bombing of the World Trade Center that made Wallach give up journalism and change the course of his life.

Where the terrorists had instilled fear, Wallach decided, he would inspire its best antidote—hope. At a dinner party in honor of Shimon Peres, Wallach made a toast to the Israeli Foreign Minister in the presence of envoys from Egypt and Palestine. During this toast, he proposed his idea for a summer camp in the United States where young people from each of the three nations would have the chance to meet one another.

“To be nice, they all accepted, probably not thinking I was serious.”

Wallach called their bluff. The next day he held a news conference, announcing that all three—the Israeli Government, the Egyptian Government and the PLO—had agreed to his plan.

With the help of partners Bobbie Gottschalk and Tim Wilson, Wallach planned the first Seeds of Peace camp. The three used their own money to initiate the project, which quickly attracted both publicity and outside financial support.

“That first summer we had 46 kids: Egyptians, Israelis and Palestinians,” says Wallach.

When then-First Lady Hillary Clinton visited the camp and heard from Seeds of Peace members whose relatives had been killed, she instantly became an ally. She called President Clinton and asked him to have the children present at the September 14, 1993 agreements between Yitzhak Rabin and Yassir Arafat.

By December 1999, 10,000 Americans had sent individual donations to SOP. In 2000, SOP launched the “Balkans Initiative” to involve young people from Serbia, Bosnia-Herzegovina and Croatia, as well as a program for Turkish and Greek kids who were caught in the battle over the divided island of Cyprus.

The camp strives in every way to offer what the kids have never experienced: a neutral environment. In order to foster an atmosphere of tolerance, rituals are as inclusive as possible. On the first day, staff and campers stand outside the camp gates to raise the flag and sing the anthem of every member nation. The last flag raised is the SOP flag; the last song the SOP anthem. Campers eat together, share cabins, attend each other’s religious ceremonies and participate in the same social activities. They also attend coexistence sessions at camp where Palestinians, Israelis, Jordanians, and Egyptians talk about Jerusalem, sovereignty issues, terrorism, and the settlement of disputed territories.

“We teach listening skills,” says Wallach. “When you actually hear what your enemy is saying, you can begin to develop understanding and empathy for them. You need to get beyond the sense that you are the exclusive victim of the other side; no one has a monopoly on suffering. When both sides grasp that both are victims, a breakthrough becomes possible. You can actually break the cycles of violence.”

Seeds of Peace does not officially espouse or direct its members to take any particular viewpoint.

“Our mission statement is pretty simple,” explains Wallach. “What one side has, the other side has a right to demand for itself, whether that be statehood, security, justice or equality. We have always recognized the Palestinians as a separate entity, allowed them to fly their flag at our site next to the Israeli flag, permitted them to sing their anthem and say they come from Palestine, even though strictly it does not exist as a separate nation.” His personal view of an ideal political situation is equally simple: that Israel and Palestine “should coexist just like two human beings, and our kids, just as their nations, [should] recognize and accept each other.”

The camp only takes 450 kids every summer, so the selection process is competitive. Each nation’s Ministry of Education notifies its own schools to select candidates, who then have to write an essay explaining why they want “to make peace with the enemy.” SOP asks the parents only to pay as much of the airfare as they can, then picks up the rest of the costs. Camp is free. Wallach wanted governments involved in choosing participants because in this way they would “recognize that the peace treaty won’t mean anything unless there are people on the ground who believe in peace.” It also, he adds, ensures that the camp receives the “best and the brightest” through a democratic process.

In a 1999 radio interview, two Seeds of Peace members (identified only by their first names, Avigail and Bushra) talked about the ways camp had changed their lives. Avigail, an Israeli, said that “arriving at the camp was a very intense shock … no one knew how to treat each other. We came from home with a lot of prejudices that were hard to let go of.”

Bushra, who had grown up in a Palestinian refugee camp, recalled that her experience with Israelis was limited to seeing soldiers carrying guns around with them. Her initial experience was one of fear.

“At first it was frightening. My heart was beating, I was looking around, didn’t know what to do. I went [to camp] because my father encouraged me to go and meet the other side, hear what they want to say, and what they feel about us. It was very hard to discuss [coexistence] issues with Israelis because each side has its own historical facts … [but] I think it was important for me to hear that Israelis want to coexist with us. I couldn’t have believed that my best friend would be an Israeli.”

The post-camp experience presents a new set of challenges for SOP campers. They return to the world in which loyalties remain unchanged, opinions unchallenged. In order to visit her Israeli best friend from camp, Bushra found that she needed to get special permission from the government of Israel allowing her to cross the “border.” She also found that her new alliances made her old friends and neighbors suspicious.

“It was very hard explaining to my friends what I did in camp,” she said. “For the refugees it’s hard for them to believe in peace with the Israelis.”

Behind the emotional damage caused by strained loyalties lurks the ever-present danger of living with war. On October 2, 2000, seventeen-year-old Asel Asleh got in the middle of a confrontation between armed Israeli soldiers and rock-throwing Palestinians. Asleh, a Palestinian who had just returned from SOP camp, was shot and killed.

The Seeds of Peace flag flies at half-mast for Asel Asleh, killed after returning home from camp. While SOP staff are barred from attending political demonstrations, the organization does not sanction its members from doing so. Asel Asleh’s unexplained presence in that fatal skirmish might have aroused doubts about his devotion to peace, but his Israeli and Palestinian friends voiced no such doubts, eulogizing him in the highest terms on the SOP Web site. The unfettered response to Asleh’s death testifies to the quality of the friendships forged at camp. The tragedy itself, on the other hand, points up the need for maintaining a strong network of former campers.

“The support system is enormously important,” says Wallach. A 5000-square-foot Center for Coexistence in Jerusalem, with a permanent staff of eight people, now actively fosters continued relationships among former campers. The center offers workshops, reunions, and drama, art and photography classes taught by both Israeli and Palestinian teachers. Staff members also help the kids obtain permission to travel across hostile borders to visit their new friends. At Seedsnet, a secure Web site, kids can communicate with each other. SOP also puts out a monthly newsletter, The Olive Branch, and holds a youth conference every year.

What has most surprised Wallach is “how much the rest of us can learn from these kids. Those who live with terror every day … are far more mature than American youth.” He hopes that one day an Israeli and Palestinian will graduate from the Seeds of Peace program, become elected leaders, and return to the SOP camp in Maine for their first summit meeting.

“All of them are capable of leading the rest of us. That’s the biggest surprise. We don’t spend enough time listening to [youth] and allowing them to lead.”

On November 9, 2001 Seeds of Peace hosted a conference in New York City on the roots of terrorism. Over 150 attendees from 22 Balkan and Middle Eastern countries spent five days discussing the causes of terrorism. They then drafted a charter outlining ways to prevent terrorism and presented it to UN Secretary General Kofi Annan at a concurrent meeting of the UN General Assembly.

It is unclear whether or not this charter will directly impact Middle East politics. What is undeniable, however, is that by giving people a chance simply to create this document, John Wallach has already succeeded in his goal of offering hope. As Avigail says, “The important thing is not the treaties that are signed at camp but that people go through this experience. Once you go through it you can’t let it go, because you have seen a reality that could be the reality back home. We come back from camp with so much motivation, and so much belief [in] peace.”

Read Susannah Abbey’s interview on My Hero Project »

Indian children return with warmth for Pakistan
The International News (Pakistan)

LAHORE | Indian children belonging to the Seeds of Peace family returned home on Saturday by Dosti Bus with tons of warmth, hospitality and sweet memories. There were 21 boys and girls aged between 15-17 with two delegation leaders, Monica Wahi and Feruzun Mehta from India.

The US representative of Seeds of Peace organisation, Marieke van Woerkom, accompanied Indian children along with two Harvard University students, Anila (Pakistani) and Meenakshi (Indian). All the children hailed from Mumbai’s middle and upper society. They travelled by air to New Delhi from where they came to Lahore by Dosti Bus.

Seeds of Peace (SOP) is an American NGO which facilitates friendships among children of conflicting nations of the world. The idea of SOP was envisioned by John Wallach, a journalist who was moved by Mideast violence. The great luminary of world peace died of cancer in July 2002 among his worldwide family of Seeds of Peace children. He founded Seeds of Peace in 1993 and kept organising their get-together sessions in the idyllic haunts of Otisfield, Maine. In each session, he invited about 360 children in batches from rival nations including Pakistan and India.

Seeds of Peace is now being run by Aaron Miller, a friend of John Wallach, who shared his vision also.

The event of Indian children visiting Lahore was a low-key, off-media affair mainly because of security reasons and fear of ticklish questions of newsmen. All Indian children lived here with families of host children, the first ever free-will interaction between Indian Hindu families and Pakistani Muslim families after Partition. In that respect, it meant much more than sheer lip service to the cause of peace.

Asked what they enjoyed most in Pakistan, Indian children just had one word, “Hospitality” on their lips.

In the absence of any government level efforts, the children became true harbingers of peace, love and fraternity. The Indian children brought dainty gifts of choice and letters from their parents for host families. Indian parents used “Asalam-o-Alaikum” and “Insha Allah” in their letters for the first peace harvest after more than half a century.

Enthusiastic host children also pooled in funds for making organised visits to some of the best places of the city. In a chartered bus, they were taken to Government College University, Gurdawara adjacent to Badshahi Mosque, Gymkhana Club, Lahore Fort and Minar-e-Pakistan. They were feted at Village Restaurant, Cafe Zouk and Cocoo’s Cafe. Host families also served special dinners for the guests, keeping in view that many were pure vegetarians or half vegetarians.

Apart from hospitality, they said foods of Lahore were the most enjoyable part of their trip. Host boys took care of boy guests and host girls looked after Indian girls. They played together, ate together and lived together despite limited availability of time as a first experience of its kind.

The children had already been together in the SOP camps in the US, knew each other well and had been keeping their friendship alive on Internet. In their casual chats, India and Pakistan children discussed many of the big issues including Kashmir without getting embroiled, sending a silent message to their national leaders to emulate them.

Seeds of Peace had requested both Governor, Punjab Lt. Gen. Khalid Maqbool and Chief Minister, Punjab Chaudhry Pervaiz Elahi, for a photo session with SOP children. Ironically, however, both of them failed to respond.

Indian children were interesting observers as well. On August 14 they went round the town. They noted that Pakistanis celebrate Independence Day with a greater joy and spirit.

Seeds visit President Clinton in the Oval Office

President Clinton receives the Seeds of Peace Award, Oval Office. Pictured with the President are Manal Abbas, Dalia Ali, Jamil Zraiqat, Avagail Shaham, and Jawad Issa.

President Clinton receives the Seeds of Peace Award, Oval Office. Pictured with the President are Manal Abbas, Dalia Ali, Jamil Zraiqat, Avagail Shaham, and Jawad Issa.

WASHINGTON, DC | Visiting President Clinton in the Oval Office of the White House, May 23, 2000, was a thrill for all of the Seeds who were there—Jawad, Dalia, Jamil, Avigail and Manal. Each of them had a chance to tell the President personal stories about their lives, especially about how Seeds of Peace has affected their lives. Jawad and Manal are Palestinians from Gaza and Nablus. Avigail is from Israel. And Jamil is from Jordan.

Afterward, the President responded by talking about the relationship between national identity and maintaining traditional enemies. He said that it was no accident that both President Sadat and Prime Minister Rabin were killed by their fellow countrymen. Sometimes giving up an enemy for peace feels like a threat to identity and it becomes intolerable for some members of society. He also talked about Nelson Mandela, who said that if he continued to hate his jailers even after he had been released from his lengthy stay in prison, it would be as if he was still not free.

President Clinton said that the freedom gained from a successful peace agreement must be utilized for constructive rebuilding and not spent on continued hatred between former parties in conflict.

Mrs. Jihan Sadat, wife of Egyptian President Anwar Sadat; Bebe Neuwirth, representing Broadway stars who support Seeds of Peace; Sandy Berger, US National Security Advisor; John and Janet Wallach, Lindsay Miller, Bobbie Gottschalk, Meredith Katz and Michael Wallach were also in attendance.

Sowing seeds of Mid-East peace
The Sun (UK)

JERUSALEM | Violence, hatred and tension rage on in the Middle East, with at least 13 killed in the latest fighting between feuding factions in the Gaza Strip.

Yet one organisation is breaking down barriers. Seeds of Peace was founded in 1993 by US journalist John Wallach and is supported by UK charity World Vision.

It aims to secure lasting peace by bringing together Arab and Israeli teenagers in month-long camps in the US to dispel fear and prejudices of the “enemy”.

Here we meet a generation who could provide an answer to the hatred and deaths.

Noa and Sara

Noa and SaraIsraeli Noa Epstein, 24, met Palestinian Sara Jabari at a Seeds of Peace camp in 1997. They became pals and even made the dangerous trip to one another’s homes—risking jail in the occupied territories.

English teacher Sara, 24, is married to businessman Izzeden and is mum to Yumna, four, and Dawood, one.

She lives in Beit-Hannina, a suburb of north Jerusalem. Noa, a co-ordinator for pressure group Peace Now, lives in Jerusalem’s Mevasseret Zion suburb.

NOA SAYS: “When I was 14 my teacher offered me the chance to go to a summer camp with Israeli and Arab kids. It sounded intriguing and was an opportunity to get to know people who live nearby but who I would otherwise never get to meet.

“At the time I first went to camp, in 1997, terror attacks here were escalating and I felt a little nervous. Then I met Sara.

“We spent hours talking and soon realised the other was not the monster stereotype which is too often portrayed.

“It was important for me to travel to Sara’s home in Hebron, which is around one hour away.

“It was the first time I had been in the West Bank, former Arab territory now occupied by Israel.

“Soon after, Sara came to my home. Since she moved to Jerusalem we have been able to see more of each other. The only way this conflict can be resolved is by educating people to break down the walls of hate.”

SARA SAYS: “Before I went to the camp, I always thought Israelis were the enemy and was very afraid of them.

“My family and friends would tell me, ‘Even when you are sleeping you must take care’.

“When I discovered I’d be sharing a bunk with two Israeli girls I stayed awake all night in case they attacked me—and later they told me they did the same. But day by day the animosity broke down.

“Noa and I developed a very close friendship quickly. We were not an Israeli and a Palestinian ? simply two friends.

“I was afraid of going to Noa’s home the first time, particularly when a woman entered the house in army uniform. I thought I would be arrested or even shot but Noa said it was her sister. [Israeli girls are conscripted at 18.]

“Noa’s family made me very welcome.

“I try not to be too optimistic, but I want a future for my kids which is free from crossing army checkpoints and being divided by walls. At least they are growing up with a role model of a friendship which refuses to be broken by war.”

Hamutal and Amani

Hamutal and AmaniISRAELI Hamutal Blanc, 16, from Haifa formed a firm friendship with Palestinian Amani Ermelia, 17, at a Seeds of Peace camp in June 2005. Amani lives in a refugee camp in Jericho.

HAMUTAL SAYS: “In many Israeli minds all Palestinians are terrorists. But luckily my parents have brought me up to think more liberally. Nevertheless, I wanted to meet Palestinians and see the situation with my own eyes.

“Amani and I slept in the same room at camp and formed a strong bond. We discussed lots of things, including the politics of our countries.

“I can try to understand a lot of things but I could never agree with suicide bombing. I was shocked to discover that most intelligent Palestinians do. I’d like to go to Amani’s home but it’s dangerous for me.”

AMANI SAYS: “To get to my school, five miles from my home, I have to pass through Israeli army checkpoints. I often feel scared because the soldiers can be hostile and even open fire.

“I wanted to go to Seeds of Peace to tell how I feel. I am like a bird in a cage, I can’t move freely in my own country. Just because I wear a scarf, Israelis think I am a terrorist.

“I respect Hamutal because she has made the effort to listen and understand me.”

Mahmoud and Amos

Mahmoud and AmosPALESTINIAN Mahmoud Massalha, 16, is from north Jerusalem. He made friends with Israeli Amos Atzmon, 16, of west Jerusalem, at a Seeds of Peace camp last year.

MAHMOUD SAYS: “Amos and I became friends because we both love football.

“The thing I admire most about him is that he is learning to speak Arabic. I am learning to speak Hebrew.

“That really helps because if we are going to make peace with the other side we need to know their language.”

AMOS SAYS: “It was the first time I had got to know Palestinian kids, rather than just seeing them as the enemy.

“I knew Mahmoud and I were going to be friends. We discovered we liked hip-hop music, particularly Eminem. I’d love to go to Mahmoud’s house but I’m a bit afraid. But if you don’t know the other side, you can never make things better.”

Read Sharon Hendry’s article at the The Sun (UK) »

On a Day for Making Peace, Politicians Regained Luster
The Boston Globe

BY MICHAEL KRANISH | WASHINGTON A Secret Service agent raced into the White House’s Palm Room just before yesterday’s signing of the Israeli-Palestinian peace agreement. “Make a little hole!” the agent shouted as he parted the crowd in the room. “It’s the president!”

Suddenly, a tanned, smiling George Bush raced by on his way to meet with President Clinton. “Ex!” Bush corrected the agent. “Ex! Ex!”

Nearby, on the North Portico of the White House, Yasser Arafat was arriving. Until four days ago, US officials weren’t allowed to talk to the chairman of the Palestine Liberation Organization, much less receive him as an honored guest.

Now, they merely noted that he wasn’t wearing his trademark pistol and welcomed him to the White House, where the former guerrilla leader signed the guest book.

It was that kind of extraordinary day in Washington yesterday, a day when former campaign foes could meet and praise each other, when ancient enemies could shake hands and make peace with each other. It was a day when it really seemed, in this era of antipolitics, that politicians could make a difference after all.

When Clinton walked onto the South Lawn side-by-side with Arafat and Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin of Israel, many in the crowd of 3,000 politicians, diplomats, and Middle East activists gasped. For many minutes, the crowd noticed that Arafat and Rabin were not looking at each other and had not shaken hands. The tension mounted: Would they shake hands?

When Clinton finally appeared to nudge Rabin to shake Arafat’s outstretched hand, the crowd spontaneously said, “Ooohh!” when Arafat and Rabin clasped hands, many in the crowd stood and applauded. Some appeared to be crying.

Leonard Zakim, the Boston director of the New England Anti-Defamation League, watched trancelike as the scene unfolded, not quite believing it was happening after all these years. It was, Zakim said, a day of “somber exuberance,” a celebration of the moment and a cause for concern about what lay ahead.

“This is really an earthquake in the region,” he said. “The aftershocks, like the murder of Israelis in Gaza yesterday, are going to be serious.”

The ceremony was also one hot ticket.

“It was like getting a ticket to Bruce Springsteen,” Zakim said, clearly thrilled to be there.

The politicians who signed the peace accord on this sun-scorched day were the stars of the show. They stood behind an ornate desk that had been used in the signing of the 1978 Camp David accord, the old enemies Arafat and Rabin promising peace even as extremists on both sides vowed to undo the agreement. Arafat, wearing thick glasses, a traditional keffiyeh headdress and olive military suit, waved and smiled exuberantly wherever he went. On Sunday night, Bush—who in 1990 broke off a dialogue with the PLO over a terrorist attack—flew in from his summer home in Kennebunkport and met privately with the PLO chairman for an hour.

Yesterday morning, Arafat met with Bush’s secretary of state, James A. Baker 3d. Arafat also met privately with former President Jimmy Carter, who also attended yesterday’s ceremony.

Bush and Carter planned to attend a dinner with Clinton last night and then stay overnight in their old home, the White House, so that they could be present today at a ceremony kicking off a campaign to sell the North American Free Trade Agreement to Congress.

At the end of a day of ceremonies that were witnessed by millions on television around the world, Arafat planned to appear on the Larry King show, eating into the long-scheduled air time of the US Gulf War commander, Gen. Norman Schwarzkopf.

It was Arafat’s decision to side with Iraq that led the Persian Gulf states to cut off financial aid to the PLO, and that helped spur Arafat’s decision to sign the agreement with Israel yesterday.

While the Clinton administration had little to do with the secret Norway negotiations that led to the accord, the president was eager to make the most of the movement. Clinton gave what many believed was his best speech since he took office, tapping his campaign theme of hop without sounding corny and trumpeting what he called “one of history’s defining dramas.”

Overseeing it all was a man known in the White House as the Rabbi.

Steve Rabinowitz, who got the nickname during the campaign, remembers hearing about the 1967 Arab-Israeli war and Camp David peace agreement when he was going to Hebrew school and attending his bar mitzvah. Now, as the White House director of production, Rabinowitz had set up everything from the placement of Arafat and Rabin on stage to the numbers of seats on the lawn. He gave instructions in Hebrew and English, attending to every detail like a doting parent.

“I have always looked forward to the time when something like this could happen,” Rabinowitz said. “It is an extraordinary thing, and to be a part of it is pretty unbelievable.”

Perhaps the most eloquent statement came from a group of Israeli and Palestinian children that Clinton had invited. The children had just finished attending a “Seeds of Peace” camp in Otisfield, Maine.

“Before I came to camp, I thought they were very bad,” a 15-year-old Palestinian named Fadi said of the Israelis. “Now I feel happy that I have friendships with them. And today I shook hands with Clinton, Arafat, Bush. It is good.”

But things are not yet good enough. Even after the signing of yesterday’s agreement, for which he had a choice seat, Fadi did not want his last name used. He was still unsure whether the killing would really stop now in the Holy Land, and he feared retaliation back home for having spent a peaceful summer in Maine with Jewish children.

Riya: Speaking up, raising funds for India’s migrant workers

At a time when the sheer devastation of COVID-19 is paralyzing swaths of Indian society, Riya is channeling empathy into action.

“My experience with Seeds has taught me that we, the young people, have the capacity to lead the change to help people, and that is what I intend to do,” she said.

The 2019 Indian Seed is working to raise funds and awareness for migrant workers who she describes as “the real backbone of India.”

It is estimated more than 140 million people from rural India migrate seasonally to bigger cities in search of work, but COVID has taken an especially deep toll on this community. Not only does the virus spread quickly among the cramped conditions in which day laborers often live, but has dried up much of the work opportunities and their ability to support themselves.

“I decided to help this section of society in whatever way I could, rather than just sitting at home and feeling helpless and sorry for them,” Riya said.

She has partnered with a volunteer-run community kitchen in Delhi that provides migrant workers and daily wage earners, including those affected by COVID, with free meals. It takes about â‚č20,000 a day to run the kitchen, and she is currently about a third of the way to her goal of â‚č2,00,000 (or $2,857.)

Riya said that the pandemic has deeply impacted her family and friends, on an emotional level and in terms of loss of life. She has been encouraged, however, by evidence that “the spirit of humanity is still alive and kicking,” especially in the form of people around her—including many fellow Seeds—reaching out and stepping up in times of crisis.

“It is an amazing feeling to see the community around me, rallying together to find beds, medicine, and hospitals for people who need it, and provide other areas of support to people from all walks of life,” she said. “Of the many things I learned as a Seed, the most important thing is that young people like me can help other people and make a difference in the world. It is because of my ‘Seeds of Peace’ community that I decided to start this fundraiser—so we could help people together.”

Learn more or support Riya’s fundraiser â€șâ€ș

At the Crossroads of Art and Activism: Introducing the 2022 GATHER Artivism Fellows

GATHER is proud to announce the 2022 cohort of the GATHER Artivism Fellowship—a five-month program harnessing the power of art to swiftly inspire lasting and widespread change.

Hailing from 11 different countries, the cohort comprises 16 artists, activists, entrepreneurs, and innovators representing a wide range of disciplines and mediums. Each was chosen in part for the work they are currently doing to create change through art—from an Academy-Award winning Pakistani documentarian to the founder of an art-based school for refugee children, to the voice behind one of Israel’s most popular podcasts—as well as their curiosity and desire to learn with and from a community of fellow “artivists.”

The five-month fellowship is the latest in Seeds of Peace’s initiatives that engage artists in peacebuilding, beginning with the Mic & Pen Series in 2015, and more recently, the Kitnay Duur, Kitnay Paas South Asia Film project and the GATHER Songwriters Retreat. The Artivism Fellowship will focus primarily on three areas: the fellow’s ability to achieve their goals; their wellbeing, and creating community—all in an effort to support their ability to create lasting change through art.

“When you talk about changemaking in terms of speed, sustainability, and scale of impact, we believe that art is the most effective medium,” said Pooja Pradeep, GATHER International Director and 2018 GATHER Fellow. “Think of how many people have changed the way they eat, live, or think because of a movie they saw. It’s not signing up for a one-time workshop or protest. Art is a movement that changes behavior, and reaches all cultures and subcultures of people.”

This is the seventh cohort of GATHER Fellows, and the first dedicated to artivists. Seeds of Peace launched GATHER in 2015 with the goal of supporting alumni and other adults working to create the conditions for lasting change. The Artivism Fellowship kicks off this month with a summit, followed by virtual programming that centers around project development, community building, and personal wellbeing.

Learn more about the Artivism Fellows below, read more about the fellowship at gather.seedsofpeace.org, and follow @gatherforpeople on Instagram to see more stories and updates throughout the fellowship.

DANIEL ARZOLA, UNITED STATES/ VENEZUELA

Using Artivism to represent stories of immigrant LGBTQ communities through visual art.

Daniel is a Venezuelan Graphic Artivist whose work is the testimony is of a queer and migrant person who escaped from an authoritarian regime. In 2013, as a student, his series of posters became the first LGBT* graphic campaign to appear and be discussed in the Venezuelan media. The project, titled “I’m Not Your Joke,” has been exhibited in 20 countries. In 2017 he intervened in the first LGBT* metro station in Latin America, The Carlos JĂĄuregui station of the Buenos Aires subway, which includes a mural of fourteen meters, stairs, and balconies allusive to the history of queer civil rights in Argentina. He currently lives in Minnesota, where his work is focused on creating art that tells the story of immigrant LGBT* people in the Midwest region of the United States.

“For me, art is the echo of a message in time. I believe in art as not only a tool to tell stories and create memories, but also as a symbol of hope. Art makes us feel admiration for people we don’t know, and has the power to transform the spaces it occupies. “

SHARON AVRAHAM, PALESTINE/ISRAEL

Artist in Action, facing the occupation and oppression through transformative art.

Sharon was educated as an artist, realizing most of his works are through the mediums of photography, installation and transformative event spaces. He moves between art and activism with the goal of inspiring young people in the region to connect and collaborate on the pressing issues of the region, mainly the occupation of Palestine.

“Art is a language that is free of social norms, it is an elegant and intelligent way to respond to current events in life and shift consciousness. It touches you in a very honest way and allows people to connect beyond language & political beliefs.”

REI DISHON, ISRAEL

Juggling creativity, innovation & creation with art, design and society.

Rei was born in Haifa, Israel, and has been curious about creativity, photography and technology from a young age. He holds a degree in design with specialization in social and sustainable design (H.I.T 2009). In the last few years he worked as a cultural guide in Tel Aviv, as a curator of the first startup visitor center in Israel, and co-founded an online event production company. He was part of the production team for Burning Man in California eight times, founding the Israeli community of Burning Man in 2012 (called Midburn) and volunteering there for the Art Foundation. Most recently, he became a father.

“My work (alongside those who work with me) creates impact with the sense of art and design as a perception methodology and set of tools —all these in order to create safe space, bring people together, enable dialogue and processes.”

ZAMZAM ELMOGE, UNITED STATES

Uplifting stories of BIPOC and underrepresented immigrant communities through film.

Zamzam immigrated with her family to the United States in 2006 from a refugee camp in Kenya and is currently as an aspiring director at Emerson College. She was awarded the Catalyst for Change Award from Maine Youth Action Network for her first documentary, Reason 4369, which she began working on when she was just 15.

In addition to mentoring youth, building coalitions, and promoting peace with other organizations—such as Seeds of Peace, Gateway Community Services, and MANA (Maine Association for New Americans) Maine’s COVID-19 Youth Coalition—Zamzam has also been active in community leadership. She is the founder and director of the Gen Z Project, which elevates the voices of underrepresented youth onscreen.

“As a documentary filmmaker, my goal is to build trusting relationships with people so that their personal narratives can be uncovered and self-reflection encouraged. It has been my greatest pleasure to work to make a difference in my community through my art.”

DANNA FRANK, ISRAEL

Showcasing stories through podcasts, press, film, & television.

Danna is a writer, podcaster and director who started publishing stories at 16 and never stopped. A graduate of the Tisch School for Film and Television Tel Aviv University, she worked for five years at Kan—the Israeli public broadcaster—where she directed, handled contacts, and created “Hayot Kiss,” Israel’s most popular podcast. She currently hosts a political podcast called “Parliament Light” and writes a weekly column for Ha’aretz. She is also developing several scripts for film and television. A large part of her work has revolved around using stories as a platform to explore ideas that seem too complex or lofty to relate to real, everyday problems.

“Art has always been a huge part of my life. The films of Elia Suleiman have taught me more about the Palestinian side of the conflict than any news story ever could. The music of Luna Abu Nasar, Yasmin Hamdan, and Fairuz got me closer to Arab culture that seemed distant and even frightening to me as a teenager. I believe that art speaks directly to the heart and thus has real potential to change us.”

HAYA FATIMA IQBAL, PAKISTAN

Exposing cultural blind spots & systematic failures through filmmaking.

Haya is an Oscar and two-time Emmy-award winning documentary filmmaker, director, producer, and educator. She is constantly inspired by the poetry of resistance that has been created in Pakistan over time; her interests lie in themes like the connection between climate change and mental health, disability, ethnic conflict, and how societies behave when people grapple with conflict daily. She recently served as a mentor in the Seeds of Peace Kitnay Duur, Kitnay Paas Indo-Pak film initiative, and is currently directing her debut feature documentary, titled “Beyond Victory,” which follows the lives of young women who form Pakistan’s first ever blind women’s national cricket team.

“I am constantly thinking of the different ways this film should be used to create impact among the country’s sighted majority—that is, people who think they can see. When an ordinary Pakistani watches the film, I want them to understand that it’s not blindness that’s the problem; it’s the individual and systemic responses towards blindness that’s the problem.”

Three things that bring her joy: Children’s candidness, socio-political commentary done through meme culture, and getting to know people over ice cream cones .

ALDEN JACOBS, CYPRUS

Supporting young visual artists from communities affected by violent conflict to grow their socially engaged artistic practice.

Alden is the co-founder and Director of Program Development at Visual Voices, which aims to combine traditional arts-based peacebuilding activities with substantive peace advocacy campaigns for a better future. He has a MSSc in Peace and Conflict Research from Uppsala University Department of Peace and Conflict Research in Sweden, where he was a Rotary Peace Fellow. He received a BA in International Studies from the University of Oregon, in the U.S. His professional experience has focused on project management for international community development initiatives in Honduras, Mozambique, Middle East and Cyprus. He is passionate about community development, community involvement, peacebuilding and youth.

“As a US Peace Corps volunteer in Mozambique, I started working with an organization that used music to promote health education and awareness. I saw how much the youth loved it, how proud they were of what was created, how engaging it was for their audience, and how much of an impact it was able to have. This is when I truly understood the power of art and I have embraced it ever since.”

OMRI MASSARWE, PALESTINE

Documenting artists & changemakers through digital art.

Omri is a visual artist, documentarian, and filmmaker whose wide range of clientele includes aid organizations, musicians, and commercial enterprises. With an ever-evolving palette, he is constantly expanding his artistic range, including co-founded an apparel brand and recently designing stage sets for concerts and events. His interest in visual storytelling began in middle school, and he has been teaching himself how to use the camera to better understand and connect the world ever since.

“Art is what shaped me & made me who I am today, ever since I held my first camera when i was in the 7th grade, I knew I had a powerful tool in my hand that I needed to use.”

MANASI MEHAN, INDIA

Providing access to visual arts integrated social emotional learning to children from under-resourced communities.

Manasi is the co-founder of Saturday Art Class (SArC), which, since 2017, has worked to inspire children to create more by giving them access to visual arts learning opportunities through a social-emotional learning methodology. She has been a part of India’s education and not-for-profit space since 2015, when she joined the Teach for India fellowship right after earning an undergraduate degree in psychology. She has also participated in the Gratitude Network Fellowship, the GSBI Miller Center Accelerator Program for Women, The Nudge Incubator, InnovatED, and has represented Saturday Art Class thrice as a TEDx speaker. She holds a Masters’s degree in sociology.

“I believe that art is a language of communication that has no barriers, needs no background, and is exclusive to a person. There is no right or wrong and each piece of art is unique to an individual.”

TABISH RAFIQ MIR, KASHMIR

Writing, shooting, urging, expressing, the “Household Lessons From Occupation.”

Tabish was born and raised in Indian Administered Kashmir. After studying civil engineering in university, Tabish dedicated himself to writing, having worked as a journalist, photographer and a desk editor for various news magazines and papers, both locally and internationally. His focus revolves around the mechanisms of occupier states, blueprint of appropriation, culture, and solution-oriented societal critique.

“I believe in storytelling, in satire, in word-making and world-building through good stories. I believe that the change you want to see in the world cannot be imposed; it can only be suggested. Through abstract and story. I believe that change is a personal belief and stories encourage people the freedom to choose for themselves the real change that starts at home – the only lasting change that happens through a story.”

AIDA MURAD, UNITED STATES/JORDAN

Making people feel seen, heard and loved through paintings and deep art experiences.

Aida is an Arab, NYC-based Spiritual Artist who became an artist after being diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis at age 20, which left her semi-paralyzed for over four years. She turned to art to help her heal, painting only with her hands to demonstrate to herself and to the world that she is not damaged. She continues to paint with her fingers, and today, Aida combines her expertise as a Reiki master, Intuitive, Coach and Artist to create fine art by painting with her fingers to both beautify people’s physical spaces and bring healing (each art piece is infused with reiki). Her work has been published by the University of Cambridge with Ai Weiwei on the topic of migration, and featured globally, including in Voice of America, Reuters, TRT World, Al Jazeera, and the United Nations. She was named as the 2022 Georgetown University Artist in Residence, is a BMW Foundation Leader and has received numerous awards for women in impact, and is on the board of Project Youth Empowerment. As an Arab and previously disabled individual, Aida hopes to open increased pathways for more minorities and differently abled individuals to enter the arts as well as use art for nature conservation and climate change awareness.

“Art saved my life in many ways—it was the only space where I could process my intense emotions and regain my confidence that I was still useful and alive. Art is my tool for change and elevation.”

JANIRA TAIBO PALOMARES, LEBANON

Creating an artful democratic school for refugee children.

Janira is the founder of 26 Letters, a non-profit democratic NGO based in Beirut, Lebanon. It was founded in 2015, during her third year of university, to break the cycle of poverty of vulnerable and refugee children and teens through a holistic educational program that aims to meet their needs all levels while empowering them to become active agents in the realization of their own educational and interrelated rights. She holds a degree in Studies of Asia and Africa: Arabic, Japanese and Chinese, with a specialization in the political, linguistic, and cultural background of the Arab world.

“Art is a powerful tool in changing lives and in my work it has inspired me to develop creative activities and books that improve the emotional, behavioral and cognitive engagement of children with their learning process.”

CHELSEA RITTER-SORONEN, UNITED STATES

Public arts creator, educator, and organizer committed to collective exploration of the ground as canvas.

Chelsea is a multi-disciplinary visual artist living and working in Washington, D.C. Formally trained by scenic artists and informally trained by graffiti artists, Chelsea’s murals often combine trompe l’oeil elements with modern playful twists. She is the owner and Principal Artist of CHALK R!OT, an all-women mural production company that specializes in various forms of pavement artwork. She also teaches art skills to activists on the frontlines of social justice movements. She recently completed a residency at the new Moonshot Studio of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, and for the last four years, has consulted for the City of Napa, California, and the City of Washington, D.C. on various public arts initiatives, working to ensure cross-sector collaborations between the creative economy and local governments.

“The power of art is the power of communication, which is the core of all humanity. Art is a language that we can all share regardless of our respective mother tongues or alphabets.”

OR TAICHER, ISRAEL

Creator, social entrepreneur, director.

Or is an artist, social entrepreneur and screenwriter, a film and stage director, and the co-founder, artistic and creative director of Koolulam, an initiative that aims to bring people together through art. He is also a graduate of the Sam Spiegel Film School. In 2002, at the age of 17, Or led effort to organize the disabled community in Israel. In 2003, he was named “Volunteer of the Year” by B’nai B’rith International. Later, he held pivotal roles in social projects such as “Zikaron Basalon” (Memory in the Living Room) and “Krembo Wings”. Or has directed a number of television shows, several short films as well as advertisements for leading television campaigns. In 2018, his comedic network series “Not Everything is Pink” gained national success.

“I believe in the power of art. Every day. Everything makes me want to create—it could be my breakfast and it could be a person thatIi just met on the street. To me, art is everything and it is my first language.”

AMAAL YOUNES, EGYPT

Elevating artistry by & for immigrants.

Amaal is a design graduate, artist, and founder of grain, a studio dedicated to a diverse group of craftsmen and creatives who share a love of craft making. Over the past few years, she’s worked in a variety of sectors including graphic design, furniture, and interior design, and both working with and teaching craftwork, mainly bookbinding, with locals and refugees residing in Cairo, Egypt. Her passion lies in how we as humans can use art to create a world centered around beauty, depth, and functionality.

“As an artist, I have been focusing on thinking of how I can use this beautiful and powerful tool to make an impact and show its power. I hope to spread appreciation for what we as humans can do when we put together our mind, heart and hands to create and spread great products, ideas and learnings.”

Peace on Cyprus could start in Maine
The Greek American Magazine

BY GEORGE SARRINIKOLAOU | NEW YORK Having taken on the task of “Preparing Tomorrow’s Leaders,” a private, not-for-profit organization in the United States is preparing to offer its services for the first time to 40 Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot teenagers later this summer.

Founded in 1993, the organization, Seeds of Peace, brings together teenagers from conflict-ridden areas, such as the Middle East and the former Yugoslavia, at a summer camp in Otisfield, Maine. The camp, described in the organization’s literature as a total coexistence experience, tries to get kids to “develop listening/negotiation skills, empathy, respect, confidence and hope.” Representatives from the organization said their goal is to dispel hatred and stereotypes among kids and develop a sense of trust from which peace can emerge. The teenagers from Cyprus, ages 13-16, are scheduled to spend two weeks at the camp beginning July 2, 1998.

Although Seeds of Peace has depended on private support for its programs, the camp for Cypriot teenagers has drawn strong US government backing. Vice President Al Gore first suggested the idea for such a camp at a meeting with the then Greek Minister of Education George Papandreou, at a meeting in the White House three years ago. Mr. Papandreou, who ended up sending his son to the summer camp in 1995, began promoting the program among Greeks. But Seeds of Peace did not become widely known in Cyprus until the spring of 1997, when John Wallach, the founder of Seeds of Peace, spoke about the organization during a television interview that aired throughout the Middle East. The broadcast aired on WorldNet, a network funded by the US Information Agency, an arm of the State Department.

Mr. Wallach said that, after his interview, it was the American ambassador to Cyprus, Kenneth C. Brill, who proposed to the Cyprus Fulbright Commission that it fund a Seeds of Peace camp for Cypriot teenagers. Despite the role that various US officials played in making camp for Cypriot teenagers a reality, there is only a “marginal amount of involvement” by the US government in the actual running of the camp, said Christine Covey, vice president of Seeds of Peace. When her organization submitted the proposal for this camp, said Ms. Covey, the program was described as it would be, free of official interference. “We wouldn’t run it any other way,” Ms. Covey said.

But in the highly polarized conflict on Cyprus, the United States is not a disinterested player. The United States has been actively involved in mediating between the Greek and Turkish communities and has proposed ways to resolve the Cyprus problem. Seeds of Peace is honoring the US official currently heading those efforts, Secretary of State Madeleine K. Albright, at a fundraising event on April 26. Not unlike the Seeds of Peace approach, the United States has been trying to get both sides in Cyprus to get over past differences and focus on a peaceful future.

“We don’t tell children what the history is or what they should believe,” said Ms. Covey. Children come to the program, she explained, with different perceptions of reality. The camp tires to find the small space where those two perceptions overlap and tries to build on that common ground.

“We don’t get into the politics,” said Mr. Wallach. “We try to give them some tools, so that when they get older they can resolve conflict without resorting to violence.”

Those tools emerge, said Seeds of Peace representatives, during shared living and eating, sports and performance activities at the camp. For the kids, those activities, Ms. Covey explained, “humanize” their perceived adversaries. Each day ends with a so called “coexistence meeting,” run by professional facilitators, during which participants discuss the issues that separate them back home. The camp culminates with the “Color Games,” a kind of mini-Olympics made up of two mixed teams. By the end of the competition, explained Ms. Covey, kids come to identify not with their ethnic group but with their team’s color.

Seeds of Peace tries to sustain the progress made at camp by establishing programs in the areas where the teenagers live. The organization has not yet determined how it will follow up on this summer’s camp. But in the case of Arab and Israeli teenagers, Seeds of Peace has helped establish an email network among camp participants and has helped organize a high school newspaper that is jointly published by Israeli and Palestinian students. We are “not turning them into peaceniks, but developing a culture of peace,” said Ms. Covey.

A truce among teens in Maine brings young people from the troubled Middle East together for three weeks
The Philadelphia Inquirer

BY LINI S. KADABA | OTISFIELD, MAINE The big news at the Seeds of Peace camp, tucked deep in the towering pines, had been the raucous pillow fight a few days earlier.

Then details of violence half a world away hit this placid spot. A young Palestinian furniture salesman on a suicide attack had rammed his car into hitchhiking Israeli soldiers, injuring 11 before police shot him to death.

In Maine, the campers—Israeli and Arab teenagers—listened. Then something astonishing—and unthinkable back home—happened.

Adi Blutner, 14, an Israeli, embraced Dena Jaber, 15, a Palestinian. To an outsider, the magnitude of the gesture, repeated throughout the camp one day last week, might be lost, but the campers understood.

“If it had been at the beginning of camp,” Adi said, “I would have gone to my Israeli friends and said, ‘See. See. Why are we even here?’ But the person that it felt right to go to was Dena.”

Adi and Dena are two of the 172 fresh-faced Israeli and Arab teenagers who have traveled 6,000 miles to the unusual Seeds of Peace camp to make friends with those who live only yards away back home. Today, as the teenagers prepared to return to the Middle East after a tour of Washington, they promised to stay in touch with enemies-turned-friends.

“They come with preconceived ideas. They have their facts ready,” said Linda Carole Pierce, a former North Philadelphia native who directs the daily rap sessions that are the heart of Seeds. “Then they find out they like the same music. They’re teenagers … You watch them grow past the fears.”

John Wallach, a former Middle East correspondent with Hearst Newspapers tired of the endless carnage, founded in 1993 the nonprofit camp, which for fiscal year 1998 had a cobbled-together budget of $1.9 million. The camp brings together teenagers from the troubled Middle East, and occasionally other conflict areas, for three weeks of bonding in the woods of Maine. (Private donations cover the $2,500 per-camper cost.)

This could never happen in the Middle East. It takes an idyllic and neutral location. It takes this haven on Pleasant Lake near Portland, the old boyhood camp—Powhatan—of real-estate developer Bob Toll, who bought the place a few years ago with his wife, Jane, a board member of Seeds, to save it from development.

“It’s the old NIMBY business—not in my backyard,” laughingly said Bob Toll, who built himself a home along the lake.

In 1997, the Tolls of Solebury, in Bucks County, agreed to lease the camp property, rent-free for now, to Seeds, which was looking for a long-term home for its camp. The Tolls also raise funds for the camp.

“Here you have people who are brought up to intensely dislike someone else,” the chairman of Toll Brothers Inc., the Huntingdon Valley real estate company, said. “Now you bring them into an environment [where] … you’re playing football, baseball, soccer, and all of a sudden it becomes more important to live with that person.”

Such moments happen often once the campers, who must sleep, eat and do just about everything in mixed nationality groups, clear the initial hurdles of prejudice, distrust, even hatred. Sure, they come wanting peace, these mostly middle-class children picked by their governments to fill the 450 prized slots in the Seeds programs. But peace, it turns out, means many things.

“Our history books don’t say the same thing,” one camper said.

Jane Toll, who often bikes over from the lake house, has learned that lesson.

“I used to try to figure out an answer—who’s right and who’s wrong,” she said recently. “They’re both right.”

Of course, it is one thing to reach that spot intellectually, and it is quite another to sleep in a bunk next to someone known as the enemy of your people for generations.

“We don’t try to divorce them from the real world here,” Wallach said. “What we’re trying to do is get individuals, human beings, to begin to care for each other … to have some compassion for each other.”

Wallach, who is Jewish, has written with his wife, Janet, a biography of Palestinian leader Yasir Arafat.

“It’s all about the enemy has a face,” he said. “It’s all about breaking the barriers of fear.”

That’s why a hug between an Israeli and a Palestinian is such a big deal. That’s why every camp activity carries enormous meaning, whether it is climbing a wall and trusting your safety to the other side, or building a sculpture that reflects both sides’ suffering, or competing in that camp ritual, the color wars—recast here as the color games, for obvious reasons—or even sharing a tube of toothpaste with a bunkmate.

“Maybe I can’t see the side of Palestinians because I’m Israeli,” Adi said at one rap session. “But I tried to,” she said in English, the language of the camp. “If I was Palestinian—and this is so hard for me to say because I feel I’m betraying my country—but I’d probably do the same.”

She sat in an uneasy circle with nine other Arab and Israeli 14- and 15-year-olds in the Nature Hut. All around the camp, groups of teens gathered for 90 minute coexistence sessions, the frank, often-heated discussion of the very issues stymieing peace negotiators back home.

Typically, when the Israelis and Arabs begin, they are at odds over, you name it, the West Bank, water rights, Israeli settlements, each side practically competing over who has suffered more. Imprisonment. Bombs. The intifadah. The Holocaust. But by the end, the teens shake hands over real agreements.

“All of us had this thing in ourselves, to make friends with the other side, to achieve something that our leaders could not,” said Shirin Hanafieh, 18, of Jordan, who has returned for a third summer, this time as a peer leader. “The way it works here, you wish this was the real world.”

But even here, peace isn’t always so neat. Adi’s group, Group G, has struggled from the start. Old disputes that have plagued the Middle East for decades continue to simmer, and sessions have ended with mean words, even tears. Some of the hurt spills over into late-night conversations. That’s why facilitators walk the bunk lines.

This evening was no different. Group G grappled with the suicide attack. One moment, Adi conceded much—just the type of compassion that Seeds hopes to sow. The next, the gulf between Israeli and Arab loomed as wide as Pleasant Lake.

The violence, she said, “makes me want peace, to stop the terrorist acts.”

That offended the Arab campers.

“That is not called a terrorist act,” shouted Mofeed Ismail, 15, a Palestinian whose cousin was killed by Israeli soldiers. To the Arabs, the suicide attacker was a freedom fighter whose own family had suffered at Israeli hands.

“I’m very sad about today, but he was not from Hamas,” Mofeed said, “and he had his reasons.”

That offended the Israelis.

“OK, he was a freedom fighter. But you know … soldiers were injured. They could be my friends,” said Israeli Alexandra Koganov, 15.

The firestorm blazed, until facilitator Liat Marcus Gross, an Israeli working with Palestinian facilitator Farhat Agbaria, tried to put it out.

“You said earlier what happened made you want to make peace,” she said, calmly. “You are not making peace right now.”

If camp seems hard, the return home is harder. There the struggle for peace begins with friends and parents. Many encounter taunts of traitor, or worse, because they have befriended the other side.

Palestinian Zeina Jallad, 16, on her second visit to Seeds, describes a most ordinary, but extraordinary, friendship. Since the last camp session, she had invited her best camp friend, an Israeli girl, to her home. But in the Middle East, all that has happened before weighs very heavily, and Zeina’s family was wary at first.

“It was very hard to have the enemy in your house,” said Zeina, who has seen her father imprisoned, and uncles and cousins, and who has had three relatives “martyred.”

“But, we are accepting it,” she said of the successful visit. “I want to go forward, without forgetting what happened.”

To that end, Seeds of Peace gives campers an e-mail address that allows what has sprouted here to bloom there despite the harsh words, the checkpoints and borders. Often camp friendships grow to include families and schoolmates. Middle East camp alumni also report and edit the English-language newspaper the Olive Branch, and last year a youth summit was held in Villars, Switzerland. This fall, Seeds will open a center in Jerusalem, where alumni—more than 1,400 Israelis and Arabs—will gather.

Back at the Nature Hut, Group G had fallen apart. To cool down, the group divided into Arabs and Israelis—the Arabs speaking Arabic, the Israelis speaking Hebrew. After 30 minutes, they came together.

Said Adi: “Now, I understand the goals of Seeds of Peace. It’s not to make peace between us, politically. It’s to make friends. We leave this place as true friends.”

Said Mofeed: “I agree.”

Bonds of Friendship in a bitter war
The Christian Science Monitor

OTISFIELD, MAINE | In the end, Ariel Tal came back and Saja Abuhigleh stayed.

Simple acts, perhaps. But also acts of courage and hope at this wooded Maine camp, a refuge from the devastating daily violence of the Middle East, a place where teenagers from Israel and Palestine meet in an effort to find solutions rather than propagate hatred.

Ariel had twice before attended Seeds of Peace, as the camp is named. But that was before a suicide bomber in Jerusalem last December blew up his friend just 20 feet from the ice cream store where Ariel was sprinkling jimmies onto a cone. Had he not lingered a few seconds, he knew, it could have been his funeral for which the neighborhood turned out.

Amid the carnage, he looked down and realized he was wearing his green Seeds of Peace sweatshirt. “I got really confused,” Ariel says. “I didn’t know what I was looking for here, and why I was chasing it so hard.”

Even before arriving for her first year at camp, Saja had her doubts about sharing a bunkhouse and breaking bread with Israelis. On her second day, she called home and learned Israeli soldiers had occupied Ramallah, her hometown. They had detained her great-uncle’s son and struck the elderly man when he asked why.

“When [my family] told me, I started crying, and I said, ‘I want to go to my home in Palestine right now! I can’t stay here,’ ” Saja says, stumbling over her words in the rush to get them out.

But Saja stayed and Ariel shed short-lived thoughts of vengeance and came back, one of the small group of returning campers who offer support and mentoring to new arrivals each year.

Their experiences, however, attest to the challenges facing a camp that some call naively idealistic and others see as the only sane response to a world situation that seems to have lost all reason. Journalist John Wallach founded Seeds of Peace in 1993, prompted in part by the first bombing of the World Trade Center. He invited 46 teenagers that year, hoping to teach young people from this bitterly divided region how to listen to one another.

But the camp has never faced a summer quite like this one. Working for peace in the Middle East has always been a courageous choice. Doing it amid the horrific violence of the current intifada, and Israel’s brutal backlash, is practically inconceivable. It is a violence that has become personal, even for teenagers, even for children.

And if the camp is to succeed, if the three weeks teenagers from each side spend laughing, arguing, and living together is to mean anything, it is a violence they somehow must find the strength to look beyond.

Getting acquainted

On June 24, the same day President Bush called for the ouster of Yasser Arafat in a much-anticipated Middle East policy speech, 166 teenagers arrived at this sleepy lakeside retreat 30 miles northwest of Portland, where only the names of the campers and the constant presence of police cars at the gate indicate that this is any different from the dozens of other camps nearby.

Almost all the campers are sponsored by Seeds of Peace; all went through a lengthy, competitive application process to get here, and all were selected by their education ministries in part for their potential to lead.

Their mission: to get to know one another as individuals rather than as the enemy, in a place removed from the hatred back home. Though Seeds of Peace has expanded over its first decade—it now accepts young people from other regions of conflict and has established a year-round Center for Coexistence in Jerusalem—it still rests on the same simple premise: that interaction breeds understanding.

You don’t have to like each other, camp director Tim Wilson reminds the campers at the opening ceremony, just recognize that each individual is a human being deserving of respect.

“You can go home, and yes, there are things there we have no control over,” Mr. Wilson tells them. “But here, we do have control. You have the right to sit down and talk to someone you normally would not talk to.”

The campers listen eagerly, applauding vigorously. When it comes time to sing the Seeds of Peace song, they belt it out: “People of peace, rejoice, rejoice/ For we have united into one voice….”

When the gathering ends, however, they cluster with others like them, finding comfort in a shared language and traditions. It takes a few days, or more, says Wilson, before many start branching out. When he sees girls from different sides “sitting around talking about P. Diddy,” or boys discussing the World Cup, he knows they’ve reached common ground.

The camp is designed for informal interaction. Six to nine campers, grouped by conflict region, share each of the well-kept bunkhouses that line the shore of Pleasant Lake. Campers eat with a second group and join a third for the daily 90-minute “coexistence session.” With this third group, they also play sports and participate in activities intended to build cooperation and trust, from a ropes course to a dance exercise in which they mimic each other’s movements.

One of this year’s new campers is Sami Habash, an articulate, blond Palestinian from Jerusalem who plans to attend Israel’s prestigious Hebrew University next year although he’s only 16. An intense young man, he’s pleased to be in an environment where everyone wants peace. But his first interest is in scoring political points.

“I want to tell [the Israelis] that we don’t have water at night. I go up to drink, and no water.” During debate, Sami hopes “to see Israelis themselves freely admitting their country’s mistakes.”

Adar Ziegel, an Israeli from Haifa who for as long as she can remember has dreamed of being her country’s prime minister, has less formulated plans. She’s heard great things about the camp from her boyfriend and is excited to see whether teens on opposite sides of the checkpoints can find solutions. Adar shares her bunkhouse and her coexistence session with Saja. Sami will be in a coexistence session with Ariel. The Monitor chose to focus on these four teens two Israelis and two Palestinians to gain some insight into the small triumphs, epiphanies, and setbacks that occur in these weeks of typical camp fun mixed with not-so-typical discussion and debate.

All four arrived with hope, but also a degree of skepticism their homeland, after all, is in tatters. Saja, who has never met an Israeli before, came armed with photos, downloaded from the Internet, that graphically portray Israeli soldiers’ abuse of Palestinians. She cannot forget the day she saw a soldier strike a small boy on the head, causing blood to spurt out.

And Sami, though ready to listen, has a long list of grievances from life under occupation to share with his Israeli counterparts.

In past years, says Ariel, discussions focused mainly on policy. “We just argued about the past and whether or not we want Jerusalem to be united.” This year, “the new kids have personal experiences. I have experiences of my own.”

Trying to win

In a nondescript one-room cabin, words and allegations fly. Facilitator Marieke Van-woerkom had eased into the coexistence session with a rather vague question: “What does it take to have peace?”

But after a few predictable, detached responses—”Stop war,” “End the bombs,” “Both sides have to trust each other”—the campers switch gears to get at specific gripes, often using a “we-you” phrasing.

“We can’t trust you,” says one Israeli. “We gave you weapons in Oslo. Today, we see those weapons being used on us.” And, he asks, why did Arafat reject Israel’s offer at Camp David two years ago?

“It wasn’t enough,” responds a frustrated Palestinian. “We want our land, but also to be free in this land. We want borders like other countries. A government, like other countries.”

“What do you want us to build a government for you?” the Israeli shoots back.

“When you give us the land, you must trust us.”

Saja objects when one Israeli refers to suicide bombers as terrorists. A fellow Palestinian likens them to messengers, delivering a message from a people who have no other resources.

“Do you think the message is being delivered in the way you want it delivered?” an Israeli girl wants to know.

After about 90 minutes, Ms. Vanwoerkom brings the session to a close with a final suggestion: “What I’d like for you to think about is, what it is inside of us that makes it so hard to truly listen and understand each other? You feel you’re not being listened to, but where are you not listening?”

Ariel, in his third year, has seen campers doggedly stake out their own positions before: “They come to win.” So did he, when he first arrived, a camper with right-wing politics and the view that the best solution was to remove all Arabs and “put them somewhere else.”

“It changes,” he says. “They face the reality and say, ‘OK, we can’t win. What next?’ You realize understanding is the important part.”

Still, even during this particular heated session, the teenagers have accomplished what many of their compatriots back home seem incapable of. They’ve carried on a debate without violence or, for the most part, raised voices.

Besides, reaching consensus is not really the goal. Vanwoerkom says she’s wary of pushing campers too far, too fast. The “brick wall” they hit when they get back home will be that much harder, especially this year. “I’m trying to find that balance,” she says, “between learning, development, growth and going back home and being able to build on those lessons.”

Facing challenges

Midway through camp, Adar finds her political foundations shaken.

She considers herself progressive, even pro-Palestinian.

But when Saja compares the Israeli occupation of Palestine to the Holocaust, Adar loses her composure. Her grandparents narrowly escaped Poland and Germany. Many of her relatives died in concentration camps.

“[Saja] said that from their point of view, we can just go back to Germany and Italy and stuff,” says Adar angrily. “I myself would never go back to a place that put numbers on my grandparents’ arms.”

Still, she thinks carefully about how to teach as well as react, giving Saja a copy of “Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl.” “She’s actually reading it,” Adar says a few days later. “I feel that once she reads that book she’ll have a much more wise understanding.” For Sami, facts have been the primary source of tension.

The Israelis in his coexistence session, he says, get them all wrong. “When I’m talking to [one Israeli settler], I’m counting on some facts that I know. When he changes the facts, I say I’m sure my facts are correct. He’s changing my facts just to make it more difficult for me to talk!”

Like Saja, Sami in his session pressed the point that Israelis should leave Palestine. He remains baffled by the outburst his comment provoked.

“They got really crazy about it,” the normally mild-mannered Palestinian says resentfully. “They said they were offended because some of them understood it as ‘Go back to Hitler.’ Others understood it as, ‘I don’t agree with the idea of a Jewish state.'”

Neither is true, Sami insists. What he wants is for Israelis to acknowledge they took land that wasn’t theirs. Finally, he lets it drop. But the experience leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “At the beginning of camp, I had some more positive ideas about the people I was negotiating with. But now some of [those opinions] have changed.”

Final days

If the informal mingling of Israeli and Palestinian teens signals success, then camp this year could get high marks.

The camp’s color games—three days of athletic competition—further erode national allegiances. The competition here is between blue and green, not Israel and Palestine.

“My team won!” says Saja brightly. She played baseball and canoed for the first time. Now she’s running around like a senior before graduation, asking everyone she knows to write indelible-ink messages on her T-shirt.

Adar, meanwhile, eagerly recounts tales of the talent show, for which she coached a boys’ bunkhouse in a ballet routine.

Now, with a teenager’s bent for melodrama, she says she’s heartbroken at the thought of leaving. “I’m going to hug a tree and carve myself into it,” she sighs. She’s already making plans to visit Nada, an Egyptian girl in her cabin, and says she’s even forgiven Saja.

“We have the best bunk ever,” Adar says firmly.

But all hasn’t been perfect.

In the middle of color games, John Wallach, the camp’s founder, died in New York.

“I didn’t want to continue any more,” says Ariel, who knew Wallach. “I was unable to think. But I realized the kids are looking up to me, and if I were to leave color games, they would do the same. [So] I kept on going.”

Just days after Wallach’s death, Dateline NBC runs an hour-long special about the camp, focusing on five teenagers from its first summer. One Israeli is now a right-wing settler, and a Palestinian he befriended at the time is active in promoting nationalist causes. The other three also seem to have drifted a long way from the idealistic teenagers who shook hands with Bill Clinton and Yasser Arafat 10 years ago.

The camp may create an aura of hope, Dateline implies, but the dreams the teens walk away with will likely wither in the heat of the violence back home.

It’s a charge the camp’s leaders are familiar with. They accept that some campers will lose the lessons of peace.

Still, Bobbie Gottschalk, the camp’s executive vice president, says she’s heard from most of those original campers since Wallach’s death. One, an Egyptian named Tamer Nagy, is this year’s program coordinator. Koby Sadan, who attended Seeds of Peace in 1994 and ’95 and just finished his three-year stint in the Israeli army, is also working as a counselor this summer.

Seeds of Peace now has more than 2,000 graduates, Ms. Gottschalk says. If just a few of them hang on to what they’ve learned and eventually become leaders in their region they could have a big impact.

“We’re just trying to get people to think for themselves,” she says. “And to care about people who are not like them. If we can expand the circle of their concern to go beyond people who are not exactly like them, then we’ve gone a long way toward building a citizen of the world.”

Heading home

No one can say what makes the camp’s message stick with one person and fizzle with another. All that’s certain is that it will be tested back home, one reason the camp has created a year-round center in Jerusalem to continue work with former campers.

Saja is excited to have made Israeli friends. But she hesitates when asked what life will be like when she returns to Ramallah. “Here, I can do everything I want,” she says. “But [in Palestine] I can’t move … To go to school from Ramallah to Jerusalem, I have to pass three checkpoints. When I stand there I think that I want to kill these soldiers, and I don’t want peace with them.”

Adar insists the bonds she has formed in three weeks, with Palestinians as well as Israelis, are stronger than those she’s formed over three years back home. She still feels her country is “falling apart,” but she takes heart from something Tim Wilson, the camp director, told her. “Tim [who is African-American] asked his father when segregation will end. And his father said, ‘When this generation dies.'” She and her fellow campers, Adar hopes, will form a new generation. Sami, however, finds it harder to imagine how Palestinians his age, pushed to a boiling point, might respond to a message of tolerance. “They’re going to tell me, ‘Can’t you see what’s happening? Aren’t you living in this country? You still want peace after all you can see?’ ”

To a point, Sami shares their rage. He is furious when he thinks of Israeli tanks and guns overpowering unarmed Palestinians. Still, he has thought carefully about the situation. “There is no way but peace for Palestinians. The Israelis have power. They can manage with peace or without peace. We Palestinians have rocks. We have nothing. So, of course, I will keep trying.”

A few days after he returns home to Jerusalem, Sami is already thinking about contacting the Israeli friends he made and visiting the Seeds of Peace center. Recent events have changed one plan, though: He no longer wants to attend Hebrew University, shattered last month by a cafeteria suicide bombing. The Technion, in Haifa, he reasons, is as good a school and less of a potential target.

From what Ariel suggests, much of what Sami, Saja, Adar, and other new campers learned at Seeds of Peace this summer has yet to sink in. He has learned that the emotional highs campers take with them from Maine can quickly crash to devastating lows. Only then can they begin to decide whether what they experienced was illusion or truth. “The experience is different [for each one],” says Ariel. “Camp is a bubble.”

Ariel, who toyed with the idea of vengeance after the suicide bombing he saw in December, is now firm in his own path.

“I got to a conclusion that we have no other way [but to work for peace],” he says. “We can do this. We can’t do anything else.”

Read Amanda Paulson’s follow-up 2003 Christian Science Monitor story »