Peace Child in Latvia
By Gary L. Friedman
December, 1988
3,851 words
“If we wish to create a lasting peace, if we want to fight a
war against war, we have to begin with the children.”
-Mahatma Gandhi
Never before in history have children been so afraid of the potential destruction of the world. The U.S. use of nuclear weapons against Japan, Khruschev's claim, "We will bury you", the Cuban Missile crisis, and President Reagan's reference to the Soviet Union as the "Evil Empire" lend substance to the nightmare that mankind - having discovered an incredible new source of energy - may use it in a mindless act of racial suicide.
But last summer, an attempt to reduce these historic tensions was made by a group of 15 Soviet and 15 American high school students who joined forces and performed their own version of the play Peace Child in the Soviet Union. All told, in August 1988, 10 such groups of American and Soviet children met and performed their version of the Peace Child musical across the Soviet Union and throughout the United States. Because the children had a direct hand in writing the dialogue, the play reflects the participants' own idealized feelings about global tensions and nuclear holocaust.
For the past three years, an organization called the Peace Child Foundation has been sponsoring these cultural exchanges in order to bring together children from both sides of nations in conflict. Under the guise of a theatrical play which deals with the history and causes of the current situation, these kids get
together, learn about their cultures, make friends, and get to vent their own concerns to the public:
Mr. President
Is it true what they say?
You could kill all the world
in less than a day?
Mr. Secretary,
Can it be what it seems?
There will be no more love
there will be no more dreams?
Oh No! (No Nyet)
It's plain to see (neh mozhet bweet)
But so hard to understand (kak paverit kak panyat)
That this world we all love
Can be taken away all in a day
Oh No!
With music, dance, and rhetoric, the play moves its audience, instills hope, and offers a new perspective of the world's tensions, reminding the audience that solutions are ultimately up to the people and not the governments. And during one particular tour in the Soviet Republic of Latvia, 30 American and Soviet children who put the play together from scratch lived, worked, traveled, and performed together throughout the Republic. They developed a friendship so strong that they had to be torn apart when saying good-bye just so they could make the departing train.
Peace Child began simply as a play in 1981, which told a somewhat idyllic story of an American and a Soviet child who meet, have a few adventures, and eventually convince the world leaders to create peace. The play was so successful and its audience so moved that the playwright, David Woollcombe, used the play's proceeds to establish the Peace Child Foundation, whose self-proclaimed purpose is eloquently understated as "...to promote the play's fantasy and play a part in making it a reality."
It's effects have been widespread. To date, via local chapters worldwide, more than 600 different versions of the show have been independently performed, involving more than 7,500 children in the United States, Soviet Union, Central America, Poland, Australia, and England, with plans to expand into China and the Middle East next year - an impressive record for a organization that boasts only 5 salaried employees.
Woollcombe takes great pride in that Peace Child was the first organization to get Soviet children into America. "Before they feared that they would all want to defect and run away and become Americans as soon as they saw a Safeway store.", says Woollcombe. "Now, they recognize that kids coming to America and experiencing the freedoms and experiencing the energy of the United States is good for them. They go back and they help the cause of Glasnost by developing their own projects."
Perhaps the key reason for the project's many successes is that it taps the energy and idealism from the growing number of children who are worried about the destruction of their world. The play's content is an important catalyst, as it mirrors the process the kids go through while assembling the show: misconceptions, discussion of issues, education, friendships, and finally agreement through understanding instead of a blind "Let's ignore history and just have peace!" attitude.
The Latvian tour actually started in Virginia, where all the children who were selected from nationwide talent auditions met for the first time to undergo group dynamics, brush-up on Russian, and told what to expect and how to be proper ambassadors. Many participants in this tour had never even heard of the Latvian Republic, which is sandwiched in the North West corner of the Soviet Union between Estonia and Lithuania, on the Baltic Sea.
After touching down in Moscow, their arrival in Riga, the capital of Latvia, was met with a showering of flowers and folk songs from their counterparts: 15 Latvian high school students, also selected by the host organization Konsomol (Young Communist organization) to participate in the play. Their welcoming speech in a foreign land halfway around the world contained the first English words they'd heard in three days: "Attention all K-Mart shoppers!"
Konsomol is the national youth social club, which is said to be the second of three stepping-stones needed to become a full-fledged Communist party member. Konsomol sponsors youth tours, coffee houses, discos, and other events designed to indoctrinate the youth with communist ideals and at the same time provide a wide variety of social events to keep them happy and out of trouble. As official sponsors of our tour they took care of all transportation, housing, food, publicity, costumes, sets, tours and road crew. Before Gorbachev took office, immense peer pressure guaranteed 100% enrollment in Konsomol for those 15 years of age and up; failure to do so met with threats of university rejection and a dead-end job. Recently, however, Glasnost has invited re-thinking of every aspect of the Soviet system, resulting in, among other things, a sharp decline in Konsomol enrollment.
The two groups spent most of the month together in a summer camp used by the Young Pioneers, an organization analogous to the American Cub Scouts. They had a mere 10 days to put the entire show together from scratch: write the dialogue, learn the music, choreography, blocking, and their lines in another language. Rehearsals were intense; sometimes as much as 13 hours a day, a schedule the Latvians weren't used to.
While putting the show together, both sides had to adjust their vision of what the show should be like in order to make it work, a process which took many days and much patience and compromise. By settling these arguments on their own, though, these young ambassadors got to learn first hand the difficulties world leaders must encounter when ironing out differences, and that there's a huge gap between saying "Let's have peace!" and making it happen.
"I don't even understand how they [official diplomats] could do it, after what we went through" remarks Jennifer Levine, a participant in the Poland tour who underwent a similar problem. A disagreement occurred over artistic control of a certain musical number in the play and, says Jenni, it erupted into an argument that took three hours to resolve. "We want our leaders to agree on nuclear arms and here we couldn't even agree on a stupid song."
But perseverance, an open mind and a willingness to communicate got them through the difficulty, and from that point on tensions eased permanently. "We all felt closer after we got the whole thing taken care of. We felt like we were a team and we got something accomplished."
Back in Latvia, during the rehearsal period the show and some of the music was rewritten on-the-fly to accommodate the new language, the local attitudes, and even some Latvian folk songs and dances. The latter was the highlight of the show, since the Latvians have 1.5 million proud, major-chord-ridden folk songs in their culture. The dancing also came easiest for the Soviets, who have been dancing classical ballet as part of their school curriculum since they were six years old.
Much rehearsing necessitates recreation, of course, and the small amount of time left over was filled with tours, concerts, visits to host families, and communicating amongst themselves as best they could without an interpreter, a skill that didn't take long to develop. Everything was shared: postcards of their home towns, photos of friends and family members, and lots of Wrigley's gum. They would weave 'friendship bracelets' for each other, give each other haircuts and lessons in current fashion. Tapes of their favorite rock groups were exchanged and, eventually, their attitudes exchanged as well.
Many American adults often view their high-school students as being somewhat loud, obnoxious, and carefree, and it was surprising to learn that it is precisely these attributes that the Soviets seemed to admire. As the tour progressed and the friendships strengthened, one could witness the American influence rubbing off, transforming the normally quiet and reserved Latvian students into outspoken and uninhibited people. Observed one of the Latvian adults, "The American kids have the competition, the incentive to work harder, to be the best. In Latvia [and in the Soviet Union in general], everything is provided for the kids. What the government doesn't subsidize, the parents do. If only our kids had that competitive element, then maybe they would be as disciplined, responsible and mature like the American kids!"
Getting to know each other also means unexpected points of view. Americans have always been told that Soviet schools are harder, more disciplined, and have a greater emphasis on math and science than their schools. The Soviets, ironically, had the same opinion of the American schools. The Latvian kids, who all came from the same geographic area, were also surprised that the Americans all came from different states. "You can go to different states without permissions or papers?" was a common reaction, which served only to enhance their fascination with the American system.
During orientation the Americans were told to expect questions like, "Is it true there are so many homeless and jobless in your country?", reflecting a long trend of capitalist bashing in the state-controlled newspapers. Remarkably those questions never arose, due partly to Gorbachev's Glasnost policies, and partly to the fact that the more educated Soviet citizens saw through the hype. It is also important not to confuse the term 'Russians' with the term 'Soviets'. None of the Latvians liked the Russians; in fact they despised being called 'Russian' and preferred their native Latvian over the Russian language. "Spaceeba!" an American exclaimed, practicing her Russian in saying 'Thank You'. "Paldiez!" her Latvian friend corrected, firmly hinting that she should learn the native language.
Their distancing themselves from the Russians also carried over to the play's story and the music. Most Latvians saw no problem with peace or global tension, making a play which sets out to deal with these problems less meaningful. After all, Latvia and America have been at peace for a long time. What's the big deal?
Latvia reminds a traveller more of Switzerland than of Moscow, and is a side of the Soviet Union few Americans get to see. Streets are clean, flowers are omnipresent, and much of the old city has recently been restored to its original beauty. Productivity is amongst the highest of all the Republics (second only to Lithuania), and as a result seemingly everyone has a car, a flat in the city, and a summer home near the Baltic Sea, in spite of these items' legendary expense and the low salary of the average Soviet worker.
The people are unhappy about being under Soviet rule, preferring instead the independent status they enjoyed between World Wars I and II. To a degree they are able to challenge their leadership; just recently they fought off plans to install a subway in their capital city because they didn't want the unchecked population growth which usually accompanies such projects. Currently they are trying to force the local paper mill to shut down and stop polluting the Baltic sea, a fight the citizens feel they are winning.
Not all Peace Child participants were as well-accommodated as the Latvian tour, however. Participants on the Ukraine and the Poland tour complained of rats at the youth hostels and food which, by their standards, was disappointing.
The newly-completed show toured through 9 cities in Latvia, allowing extensive sight-seeing before the performances and a chance to interact with the communities. One of the performance stops, the city of Kuldiga, has never had American visitors before, and honored their presence with a police escort into town, artwork from the local schools, and a free evening at one of the state-sponsored resorts.
The fascination with both the Americans and a joint play with a peace theme proved irresistible to the Soviet press, which put the cast on the front page, on television, and made a film documentary of their times together on and off stage. The favorable press was consistent with the play's reception at every town visited: warm, friendly, and from the heart. Flowers, homemade goods, and Latvian folk songs were freely offered and further revealed the Latvian pride. Youth groups, having heard about the peace tour, prepared everything from painted rocks to huge cakes and presented them after the final bows. The never-ending flowers following every show, long a European tradition, was another point of adjustment for the Americans. Remarked one, "I've gotten so many flowers, I must be dead!"
As the show begins, the initial dialogue between the two groups reflected the one-sided conditioning that each country has been feeding its people:
"We Soviets seek peace and happiness for all people, not millions for some and poverty for the rest!"
"Happiness, huh?" quips the American. "What about basic human rights?"
"We have more rights than you -- the right to work, the right to free medical care, free education, a place to live..."
"Cramped little apartments with no hope for anything better."
"And what of the homeless in your country? They live in cardboard boxes!"
"They could work if they wanted to. You're forced to work. That's not freedom."
"Yeah? And how about you feed your poor people before you tell us how to run our country?"
These arguments on stage are short lived, however. As the play progresses, and as occurs in real life, they eventually resolve their differences, become good friends, and make a definite impact on the ongoing struggle for peace.
Historically, critics' distrust of the Soviets are well-founded. Their leaders have continuously shown disregard for human rights, instead keeping more interest in building up military strength and preserving their centralized power. Their government has killed more of their own citizens than did Hitler. Incidents like the European arms buildup, Afghanistan, and the Cuban missile crisis support claims that their hidden agenda is world domination. The Soviet response to all this, of course, is to recall that during the 40's the United States had the most nuclear weapons -- and was the only nation ever to use them in actual warfare. It therefore became a national priority - at the expense of the welfare of the people - for them to insure against further invasion from the west and an attack of any sort from the U.S.
When the United States stopped its military buildup after WWII, the Soviets continued to build, making Pentagon officials uneasy. Pulling out of Europe after World War II and shifting to a peacetime economy served only to allow the Soviet Union to grab more power in eastern Europe. Greece almost fell to the control of the communists, and President Truman had to deal firmly to get them to evacuate northern Iran. The Iron Curtain had fallen, and the Cold War had begun.
Some feel that the situation has changed within the last 5 years, but hailing Gorbachev's new reforms as a reason to abandon skepticism is a dangerous action, given that change is a proven characteristic of Soviet government. Soviet citizens and Washington policymakers alike feel that, although these changes are positive ones, it is unclear whether Gorbachev will still be in control tomorrow.
So now both governments, over a period of years and for valid reasons, have built up an apparently irreversible distrust. If the situation is to improve, grass-roots efforts such as Peace Child are needed to erode the stalemate from within.
To say that the shows were well-received would be an understatement. All performances throughout Latvia drew both children and adults near or exceeding house capacities. One of the songs, "Mwee Zhelayem Shasta Vam" ("We Wish You Happiness") was written especially for the play's Soviet premier in '86, and for the year following was the Soviet Union's most popular song. Other songs like "Mr. President", which has the children band together and jointly ask the leaders of the world not to blow them up, moved the audience to tears in every single show.
The ideals presented in the play do not carry universal appeal, however. Several Peace Child productions around the United States saw their opening nights picketed by anti-Soviet demonstrators. Others have criticized the whole concept as being 'intellectually dishonest' and have compared its manipulative theatrical techniques to those used by Steven Speilberg: established techniques which tug on your emotions rather than argue rationally with your mind. "Anyone who criticizes the play as being unrealistic hasn't seen what happens between these kids [on the cultural exchanges]", says Rhonda Sable, a Peace Child veteran. "What happens on stage really happens in life. Maybe someday one of these kids will become a politician. This experience will be carried with them. Their friends are in the Soviet Union. They're not going to make war with their friends."
But still, strong reactions from audiences indicated that this wasn't just another high-school play. The presentation had, in fact, struck a responsive chord. "Peace and Friendship! Peace and Friendship!" the audiences would shout, both in Latvian and in English, accompanying their wild applause. It was all overwhelming for the participants.
As the tour drew into its last week, they were all aware that soon they would be leaving and the chances of reuniting were remote. Moments together off-stage were cherished. The thought of leaving got everyone instantly crying, and during the last few days even saying goodnight required a good five-minute hug. During their second-to-last performance, one of the rather emotional good-bye songs triggered the crying and they all lost their composure on stage, touching the audience even more than usual.
For the cast on stage, this was the formula for an emotional meltdown. During the past month the participants had met with those from the 'other side', saw first hand what life, culture, and attitudes really were like, used the theatre as a tool to spread their anti-war message to a receptive crowd, and in the process developed a lifelong friendship which transcended the historical precedents responsible for pushing their countries apart. All this occurring in a place which back home was called "The Evil Empire".
And on their final day together, there was no escaping the sadness which had enveloped everyone, sadness which spread to the staff and even to bystanders at the departing train station. Only photographs can begin to describe what went on....
As a public relations tool, the Soviet government would be foolish not to embrace Peace Child and its message, since according to official rhetoric both share a common goal: world peace. Proclamations of this dedication are exhibited throughout the republics, where billboards and statues pushing peace are almost as prevalent as statues of Lenin. Their schools' curricula also teach children at a very early age that world peace is the ultimate goal and it's everyone's duty to do his or her part to achieve it. Many Americans interpret that as meaning peace via the world-wide spread of communism, but that's a topic for another essay.
During the one-month intense experience, the combination of performance, influx of culture, strength of friendships, and triumph over long-standing obstacles often result in problems for tour participants when returning home. Thoughts of friends that they've left behind dominate over their old friends who aren't aware of and can't relate to what they've been through. Some alumni become obsessed with retaining the memories and strong emotional feelings, and feverishly write letters and place long-distance phone calls to keep in touch. "In this play you get a tremendous, almost fearsome, emotional bonding between the kids which is truly awesome." says David Woollcombe. "I hear of kids who say they want to just sit in their bedrooms for days and cry, thinking about the people they've been with."
The real test of the Peace Child concept, which would differentiate between being a naive play bordering on propaganda and a low-level catalyst which can bridge warring nations, would be to observe the results of this play in war-torn countries like Ireland and the middle east. Two pilot projects this year attempted to do just that. The Peace Child Central America tour, which took a re-written show to a country where the children know the realities of war and are wary of political peace propaganda, brought together for the first time children from Nicaragua, Costa Rica, the Soviet Union, Australia, and the United States. The show had some censorship problems due to it's political content, and some authorities tried to keep the two groups separate off-stage.
But it was worth the trouble: like all of the other exchanges, strong friendships were made and a sense of accomplishment was instilled in all who participated. "The refugees [in the audience] were thrilled." relates Woollcombe. "They climbed up on their seats and clapped."
Another pioneering project was Peace Child Israel, where, along with the Legacy International organization in Virginia, they attempted the unlikely task of getting Palestinian and Israeli children to talk to each other. After two years of unsuccessful attempts, children from both sides were flown to the U.S. where communication could develop away from the peer pressure that would normally stifle such activity. As with all other projects, the children were convened under the pretext of working out a new version of the play dealing with that territory's particular problems. The outcome of that project wasn't as successful as that of the well-established Soviet American tours, but first attempts at communication between any long-feuding groups are always the most frustrating. They are also the most important and require the greatest effort.
Projects in Ireland and Africa are also in the works, as is a tour through China and a new Peace Child International show, a project which unites all nations under the common cause of saving the environment.
Regardless of the country, all of the exchanges emerge with stories as glowing and as enthusiastic as those from Latvia. After this experience, while most Americans will point to the Soviets and label them as 'enemies', these participants will think back to last summer and proclaim "My friends are there".
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List of Participants
Latvians
Baiba Gaure
Nils Straume
Nils Baumgarts
Monika Zaemane
Aigars Beisa
Ilze Ozolina
Una Teivane
Rihards Rimsans
Eva Cerina
Edgars Silias
Signe Birkova
Inguna Vilne
Iveta Ugbale
Janis Teivane
Ilza Spranzmane
Edgars Leteas
Dzintars Beitans
Americans
Lucia Burns (Olympia, WA)
Katie Christie (Miami, FL)
Tonya Cramer (Grantham, PA)
Chris Crehan (Palos Verdes, CA)
Scott Fox (Roanoke, VA)
Natasha Franceschi (Bodega, CA)
Steve Hartigan (Lowell, MA)
Kitt Hirasaki (Kickinson, TX)
Karina Krepp (Thief River Falls, MN)
Gabriel Luikart (Mpls, MN)
Bhavani Parsons (Santa Cruz, CA)
Jenna Smoker (York, PA)
Kim Warden (Columbia, MD)
Cynthia Stutts (Washington, DC)
Wendy Jehlen (Somerville, MA)
### END OF PEACE CHILD IN LATVIA ARTICLE ###