Lessons in Peace

It was the early ’90s, and as village director, I was presiding over a tense leader’s meeting in a Children’s International Summer Villages (CISV) camp at Hotel Monticello in Baguio City. The subject was the lack of program materials, and there were various complaints/requests from the multinational group that we should obtain more of these items. I was explaining that my city had recently suffered an earthquake, Mt. Pinatubo had just unleashed widespread havoc, "donor fatigue" was a distinct reality and thus, body paints were simply beyond our budget. A delegation leader, whom I took to verbalize the group’s sentiments angrily burst out: "Then you don’t have the RIGHT to even hold a village!"

That was the turning point for me—the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. There we were, trying to teach children the concepts of diplomacy, tolerance, cooperation and peace, but behind their backs we were hypocritically bickering over such trivial matters as body paint! I judged that the quality of leadership had simply deteriorated too much, and foreswore to have nothing to do with the organization henceforth.

My parents were firm believers in CISV— an independent, non-political volunteer organization promoting peace education and cross-cultural friendship. An 11-year-old brother, Raul, was sent out to camp in Guatemala in the ’70s with the first Baguio CISV delegation, composed of Marcia Anton, Rhea Ferro and Lionel Leonen. The adult leader, Mia Reynoso, was warned that Raul "was a bit spoiled," and so my parents were ecstatic when he had come home a better, more responsible person. This was the convincer, I suppose, and so all of us were shipped out to camp as junior counselors, child delegates, then eventually as adult leaders and delegates to CISV leadership conferences.

I first went to camp as a junior counselor. Flying off alone to Norway aboard one of those Pan-American dinosaurs on a milk run, I had ample time to scare myself silly. That was the time when airplane movies were in vogue, and I freaked myself out by imagining myself in a disaster movie like Airport or victim of a hijacking as in Raid in Entebbe. But obviously, I got to camp without mishap, where I spent a memorable month.

"My schoolyard perspective was replaced by a global one. My village address list was my own personal map of the world," writes a CISV participant from Canada. This captures the essence of my own personal transformation after the village experience. Living in close proximity with people of different nationalities for a whole month, it was difficult not to forge close friendships. Consequently, I became more interested in what was happening in the world around me.

For example, when a strong earthquake hit Mexico, many years back, I worried over my friend Calixto who lived near the epicenter. In the same manner, I know that my CISV friends are also concerned about me. When my city was hit by a devastating earthquake, the first call that came in after the telephone lines were restored, was from a Japanese friend Yuka, who was sobbing with relief after finding out that we were unscathed. It is the same for my brothers and sisters whose CISV friends try to keep in touch after reading about disasters and kidnappings in the Philippines. But then, "You don’t have the right to even hold a village" happened and our enthusiasm in CISV turned lukewarm.

Thus, when Enrico, the youngest in our family, told us that he didn’t want to go to camp, we didn’t argue. We had spent enough time in CISV and felt qualified to teach him, on our own, the rudiments of peace education. We reasoned that as he went to an international school, he was not deprived of the multinational, multicultural setting that CISV offered. In addition, we did our best to expose him, through reading materials, to the widest range of viewpoints and opinions possible. Discussions at the dinner table took on the air of a CISV seminar camp, and we older people at home relished playing devil’s advocate at those long-winded debates, sometimes incurring the concern of our more conservative parents.

In retrospect, it is funny. When our brothers Paulo and Enrico were younger, we could easily dominate the discussions by using hifaluting words and quoting obscure philosophers and poets. But then, you have to understand that our family is an argumentative, opinionated lot, averse to being out-talked by anyone. We engage in a constant friendly but serious "mind game." Our boys are not an exception. That free-thinking spirit has infected them too, so they now quote their own obscure passages verbatim and hold their ground in discussions with us. We always have to be on our toes so that they do not out-read or out-argue us. We have to have a diverse stream of facts to support our contentions. We have to be in tune with what is new.

Perhaps, the immediate advantage of an environment such as what we tried to provide our children is that they have become comfortable and adept at stringing words together, and are able to coherently organize their ideas. However, I didn’t realize, until now, the far-reaching impact of our CISV-based "peace education" on their psyches.

This year, Enrico, 16 years old, has just won his third Palanca gold for Kabataan Essay with "Waging War For Humanity: The Battle For Peace." Reading through Enrico’s essay, I focus on his last paragraph where he writes: "The irony of peace is that it requires war. That is, war against ignorance, complacency, dehumanization and cold-heartedness."

I realize that I was wrong in divorcing myself from CISV because of an unpleasant experience. The good memories of CISV come back in a rush—plunging down the icy waters of the fjords with Trond Magnus in Bergen, crabbing with Junichi in the Jacksonville River, trips to Oslo with Calixto and Terje, the weekend meetings at Tita Linda Lopez’ beach house in Balayan, the "fellowship sessions" with Tita Nati Toribio, Tito Bob Montelibano, Leah Badrina and Buddy Montinola. The list goes on.

Children’s International Summer Villages Inc. was founded after World War II by an American psychologist named Doris Allen who was bothered by her son’s question "Will I have to go to war when I grow up?" My youngest brother who never went to a CISV camp has answered that question for me: Yes. We have to battle cynicism and keep the faith alive.

CISV is an independent, non-political volunteer organization promoting peace education and cross-cultural friendship. National Association president is Pilar Villanueva with national office address at the third floor of Mile-long Arcade, Amorsolo St., Legaspi Village, Makati. Tel. no. 815-3326.

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You can e-mail the author at joysubido@hotmail.com.