Fourteen years ago I saw a segment of 60 Minutes about a camp in Maine
at which Arab and Israeli teenagers spent a summer together trying to
overcome their differences. The campgrounds looked faintly familiar.
And they were: The woodsy setting was Camp Powhatan, where, in the
summer of 1969, I had watched a man walk on the moon and carved my
name on the headboard of bunk 15.
Camp Powhatan catered mostly to kids from New England and the
Mid-Atlantic states. In 1993 it was converted to the Seeds of Peace
International Camp by John Wallach, a
former newspaper editor whose parents escaped from Nazi Germany. By
bringing together children from opposing sides of conflicts around the
world, Wallach hoped to foster peaceful coexistence.
The youngsters -- mostly Israeli, Palestinian, Jordanian and
Egyptian teenagers, picked as delegates by their respective
governments -- lived together in cabins and were encouraged to canoe,
swim and play sports together. (American teens helped mediate with
the aid of trained counselors). In subsequent years, Seeds of Peace
opened to, among others, Turks and Greeks from Cyprus; Serbs, Bosnians
and Croats from the Balkans; Indians and Pakistanis; and children from
ethnic factions in Afghanistan. To date, Seeds of Peace has empowered
nearly 4,000 youngsters with the skills required to advance dialogue
and reconciliation. When campers return home, the conflict-resolution
model continues through regional follow-up programs in their own
countries. With little or no fanfare, Seeds alumni have moved into
major leadership roles. Today, early campers sit at the negotiating
tables of Israel and Palestine. At a time when the news is dominated
by hucksters, scam artists and self-inflated blowhards, it's
refreshing to see an unobtrusive organization whose deeds match its
words.
Back in 1995, shortly after the 60 Minutes segment aired, one
of my wife's friends, film and TV producer Deb Newmyer, told us that
she was involved in Seeds of Peace. She suggested that we get
involved, too. It's now been almost a decade since I joined the board
of trustees. I make a point to visit the camp every summer. I'm amazed
at how little the place that has changed over all these years. My
first leap into Pleasant Lake never fails to rejuvenate me.
I always come to camp with some of my NBA clients. My guests
have included Antawn Jamison, Mike Dunleavy, Jr., T.J. Ford, Derrick
Rose, Russell Westbrook, LaMarcus Aldridge, Wayne Ellington, Jason and
Jarron Collins, Brook and Robin Lopez, Tyreke Evans, Gerald Henderson,
Etan Thomas, Brian Scalabrine, and Brent Barry. The players hold
basketball clinics and sit in on "co-existence sessions" in which
students raised to espouse diametrically opposed beliefs about the
same issues struggle to understand each other's points of view. They
hear what it means to live in fear of Israeli soldiers or Palestinian
suicide bombers, and share meals with kids who are often meeting their
counterparts "from the other side" for the first time. For Seeds
campers, these visits from pro athletes become a highlight of their
summer. Sports, observes Seeds executive director, Leslie Adelson
Lewin, are activities in which "so-called enemies can play together
seamlessly as teammates and work together -- on the field or on the
court-- without political divides."
For their part, the pros take away from the experience as much
as they give. Many tell me that they now follow current events in the
Middle East and have a better understanding of the issues there. Some
remain in touch with campers who have returned to Palestine, Israel,
Egypt and Jordan. Two of my clients, B.J. Armstrong and Jordan Farmar,
were so inspired that they participated in clinics in the Middle East.
So has Omar Minaya, general manager of the New York Mets.
Aware of my interest in hoops and world geopolitics, Ron
Shapiro -- my fellow sports agent and Haverford College alumni --
suggested that I check out another nonprofit outfit called Peace
Players International. Founded by
brothers Brendan and Sean Tuohey, the organization uses basketball to
bridge barriers in regions historically riven by strife. Over the last
eight years, nearly 50,000 children in Northern Ireland, South Africa,
Israel, the West Bank and Cyprus have taken part in the charity's
clinics and tournaments. "Put kids from anywhere on a basketball team,
and the competition will bond them," Brendan says. "We focus on 10- to
14-year-olds because they're at an age when racial prejudice and
religious intolerance haven't fully taken hold."
Brendan and Sean, who grew up hoops fanatics in Washington
D.C., have recruited fellow players as coaches, who share their
optimism. Their American program directors go for a one-year stint in
what Sean calls "a Peace Corps for athletes." Besides teaching
basketball fundamentals and instilling a sense of teamwork, they
construct courts, train coaches and, in South Africa, AIDS awareness.
For the last few years, I've taken pro players to the Peace Players
branch in Belfast to give them a sense of the complexities of growing
up in a post-conflict society. Jason Kapono, Mike Dunleavy, and Brent
and Jon Barry have all accompanied me and immersed themselves in the
program. Next summer I hope to bring players to the Peace Players
outpost in Durban.
Considering all the trouble in the world, I'm thankful that
organizations like Peace Players and Seeds of Peace give us hope for
the future. (Seeds was just named one of the top 100 charities in the
Chase Community Giving Challenge on Facebook). True, they're not
organizations that will ever have thousands of followers forming a
mass movement with public constituencies. But they do promote
understanding and empower new leadership. And they are making a
difference. If only for that alone, they deserve our support and
attention.