This lay Catholic group, hardly a household word in Washington, demands that peace, poverty, and Africa get immediate attention and insists that its special approach can help. I sat down with Mario Giro, the Community's Director of International Relations, to probe Sant'Egidio's alchemy and what its leaders think they have to offer.
Among the tens of thousands of religiously inspired groups, there's none quite like Sant'Egidio. It started when students in Rome fired up by the troubles of 1968 decided to turn their energies to helping poor immigrants in their own city. With no particular plan for expansion, their community spread to other Italian and European cities, then other countries, especially in Africa. They call themselves a movement, grouping linked communities, in over 70 countries. They work in prisons, with immigrants, with the elderly, shunned ethnic groups, and children. Celestin Twizere, for example, is a Rwandan survivor who runs special schools to teach peace-making skills to children in that traumatized nation.
So far, admirable but hardly the justification for the renown and multiple prizes for peace-making that Sant'Egidio has garnered.
Giro explains that Sant'Egidio is in a unique position to help America's foreign policy agenda because of its work among destitute people and its contacts with dissident groups. In place after place - Burundi, Mozambique, Uganda, Colombia, Bosnia, Cote d'Ivoire, Sri Lanka, Community members come to a rare understanding of what conflicts are about because they have worked for years among the combatants.
Because these longstanding conflicts stand in the way of helping those in need, Sant'Egidio enters directly into peace discussions. Its representatives disclaim any particular methodology or philosophy: they are pragmatists who approach each situation without preconceptions. They are all unpaid volunteers; Giro thinks that their success comes partly because they continue to lead ordinary lives even while trying to resolve horrible conflicts. Sometimes they organize peace discussions at the old convent near St. Peter's that is their Roman home, sometimes deep in conflict zones; other times they play supporting roles. But always Sant'Egidio's peace work goes well beyond negotiations, because they see peace as much more than cessation of fighting. In Mozambique, after the hard won 1992 peace agreement which is their most famous achievement, they saw the HIV/AIDS pandemic as an equal challenge and embarked with equal fervor on am ambitious program of care and advocacy.
And Sant'Egidio members can do what diplomats and professional peacemakers cannot - they can wait, sympathize, cajole, listen, and wait. Today's bitterest conflicts all have deep and twisted roots, story upon story of thwarted hopes. They are as much about psychology as they are about contested resources. So the Sant'Egidio approach, built on knowledge, flexibility, and patience, is often what is most sorely needed.
Official and non-official negotiations are often referred to as track one and track two diplomacy. But Sant'Egidio adherents call their work track one and a half, because they engage both public and private. They move easily between official negotiating meetings and private encounters with people far from the official realms. And they exemplify what scholar Douglas Johnston christened "the missing dimension of statecraft" - religion, always bringing spiritual insight and energy to their work. They exemplify the Blessed Peacemakers of the Sermon on the Mount.
So as the new U.S. foreign policy team sets its agendas, it could do worse than to lend an ear to Sant'Egidio and other faith-inspired groups like it. They do not follow conventional rules, they defy protocol, and they are imbued with a passionate impatience that can be unsettling. But they bring deep knowledge, real experience and a record of results.
