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Jen Miller
While Israelis and Palestinians were killing one another in the streets
of Ramallah, Jerusalem, and Gaza, Israeli and Arab teenagers were confronting
each other on the sports field and across the dinner table — not
with weapons, but with mutual suspicions and stereotypes.
For Seeds of Peace, the summer of 2002 was not about holding hands and
singing camp songs. It was certainly not about trying to solve the Arab-Israeli
conflict. However, without the process of reconciliation that began that
summer for 150 Middle Eastern youth, there can be no hope for a meaningful
Arab-Israeli peace. For the past five years, I’ve observed this
process of learning and understanding close up as a camper and a counselor
— but the summer of 2002 was unlike previous ones.
I heard many stories — some filled with hope, but most filled
with fear. The last two years of non-stop conflict had touched these kids
personally. Their friends had died in suicide attacks. They had seen their
relatives arrested and their neighbors’ homes demolished. The brother
of one Israeli Seed was injured in the August bombing at Hebrew University
— a bombing that occurred during camp. Incidents of violence had
occurred during camp before, but never daily. Seeds of Peace was founded
on the premise that individuals cannot establish trust amidst the cacophony
of conflict. Only in the quiet and neutral Maine woods is this project
possible.
I feared the camp could not function with so many intrusions. To my
surprise, the headlines hardly interrupted camp life. We posted news twice
every day, but the kids paid little attention. As one young Israeli explained,
“We spend enough time at home being depressed about the news. We’re
here to make a difference, and we don’t have a lot of time.”
Seeds of Peace is a tiny paradise, because it provides many of the kids
with freedoms they lack at home. The first freedom is one that, even after
September 11, I believe most Americans increasingly take for granted —
the ability to live without fear. Friends of mine, Israeli and Jordanian
Seeds, describe this Middle Eastern mentality as “the fear you have
of simply walking down the street. Even if you don’t worry for your
own safety, there is still the chance that something could happen, that
minute, to someone you love.”
While no one completely detaches from the situation at home, at Seeds
of Peace, kids walk unafraid. There are no threats of violence, and there’s
only one curfew — 10 p.m., lights out. There is also the freedom
of expression. Aside from regular activities, “co-ex” sessions
(camper-slang for coexistence) form a crucial part of each day. Led by
professional facilitators, co-ex is where the debates about history, identity,
and politics happen.
The sessions are always heated. Having participated in them as a camper,
I have seen first hand how painful they can be. Formal coexistence forces
the kids to expose their insecurity and anger. But it also gives each
individual control over his or her story. They have the freedom to talk,
argue, and even cry. They do these things face-to-face — without
the pressuring voices of politicians and other authorities. Clearly, the
Seeds camp creates a very special atmosphere for its participants.
But what happens when they return home? Since the intifada began, I’ve
wondered whether the organization risks hurting the kids who attend by
giving them a false sense of security and hope. I think about Asel Asleh,
a fellow camper and one of our most dedicated Seeds. In October 2000,
Asel was killed by Israel police in the olive grove near his home. With
this in mind, I wonder: how can Seeds of Peace give a kid three weeks
on a quiet lake, and then throw him back into a tumultuous sea where even
the most peace-loving are gunned down? And even more glaring than the
threat of violence is group pressure. When they return home, kids find
themselves beleaguered by the media, the politicians, and the religious
authorities.
But most kids who have been through camp no longer see the conflict
as winner-takes-all. The Seeds graduates feel alienated when people at
home cannot understand the experiences of camp. Even though Seeds does
not dim most kids’ intense national pride, they return home to be
called traitors to their people. How does a kid deal with that? The graduates
help each other. This is the most important thing about Seeds —
the support network it creates.
As difficult as their camp experience can be — and most summers
they struggled — the experience helps the majority of kids fundamentally
change the way they relate to “the other side.” Interactions
based on anger and hatred become those based on empathy and respect. This
does not change when the kids go home. No matter how dire the situation
becomes, most kids can’t return to their old stereotypes and prejudices.
Not when they remember the soccer game they won together or the discussions
they had long after lights out.
Seeds of Peace doesn’t make life any easier or less painful for
its kids. But it does give them an option — to engage not in those
confrontations that breed hatred but in the ones that give birth to hope.
As one Palestinian told me, “It’s hard to be talking with
Israelis when everyone at home is suffering. But at least they’re
trying to understand my situation. They’re listening.”
Related Article
Seeds of Peace
International Camp
Originally published in the 2003 July/August
issue of Camping Magazine. |
