It was a Friday in fall. On this drizzly day, the congresspeople in the Capitol building were clashing over the American public debt. The threat of bankruptcy was hovering over the country. Meanwhile, on the enormous lawn in the center of Washington, almost a million smiling people were plunged in serene meditation.
The media had been thundering since dawn. Many workers on state salaries—from police officers to museum workers—were going to go unpaid into the following day. Feverish negotiations were being held in the House of Representatives, big black SUVs with tinted windows and television vans were driving up Capitol Hill. The city froze in suspense.
And yet, not entirely. On the green grounds of the National Mall a massive crowd had sat down comfortably and was celebrating in peace. No doubt this was a coincidence, but at the last minute, when there was a breakthrough in the governmental impasse and an agreement averted catastrophe, the sky over the city turned bright. The World Culture Festival, a global event celebrating coexistence in friendship and diversity, could be held in the sunshine. This celebration takes place once every five years. An international parade of cultures from the furthest corners of the world is organized by the Art Of Living foundation, working to support peace since 1981. Created by Gurudev Sri Sri Ravi Shankar over four decades ago in India, today it is one of the largest humanitarian organizations in the world. It is estimated that over half a billion people have attended its programs.
It would be hard to point to a part of the world or a walk of life in which the foundation’s representatives have not carried out assistance projects. They work from India to Peru, managing shortages, and taking on all sorts of challenges—from helping prevent diabetes, working on drug addiction treatment, helping in flood damage clearing, bringing material aid to the impoverished, and bringing social projects in the slums, to holding educational meetings with young people. They work on setting up centers for self-education, meditation, and yoga, they promote blood donations and programs for the financial emancipation of women, they hold activities to counteract the mental health crisis, and promote stress-free lives and physical and mental well-being. They also spread knowledge about health and traditional medicine (Ayurveda), and even participate in academic conferences, technological innovation congresses, dam-building, campaigns for access to clean drinking water, promoting pesticide-free farming, improving ethical standards in business, and creating forums for cooperation and dialogue.
Yet most important in the Art of Living’s range of activities are those that foster peace in the world. Sri Sri Ravi Shankar is involved in mediation and peace negotiations (he has supported peace processes in Iraq, Kashmir, and Colombia, among others), regularly participating in global discussions on peace, such as UN or European Parliament forums. The foundation holds training sessions in peaceful solutions to quarrels and conflicts, running the international “I Stand for Peace” campaign, organizing mass meditations for peace, and running programs for former soldiers and police officers, and many educational programs for children.
Once every five years, the volunteers and friends of the foundation meet to celebrate their shared work and the positive changes in which they have participated. The World Culture Festival is a pilgrimage event; its last edition, which was record-breaking in terms of attendance, was held in 2016 in New Delhi. Around 3.7 million participants gathered around the stages drifting on the Yamuna River. This year’s Washington event, coming after a two-year delay caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, also drew spectacular crowds. The organizers expected half a million attendees, but twice as many showed up. This international gathering of artists, political and religious leaders, thousands of volunteers and ordinary people yearning to live in a better world, resembled the Olympics, except utterly devoid of the competitive spirit—joy in coexistence and cooperation reigned.
Multiplicity and Joy
There’s something about a big lawn—an open green space invites you to just exist and enjoy life. A toddler rushes forward, her arms stretched out, then suddenly tilts her head and tosses her legs up in the air. A joyful squeal rings out. She’s just managed to do a cartwheel again. She lands a bit awkwardly, tucks in her shirt, and again she’s off and running. Several generations of family are cheering her on, sitting together on a blanket. The youngest run all about, losing their shoes as they go. One man returns from a nearby tent marked with a World Café sign. He’s carrying a wobbly pile of boxes full of vegetable meals, using his chin to support them, and several cups with a bright yellow drink—mango lassi.
The acrobatics on the lawn are not just for kids. A few hundred meters away a bearded man of a more advanced age is trying his best; his labrador sees this as an invitation to play, hopping alongside of him. Another dog shatters the peace, barking at a man posing his daughter for a photo in a shirt that reads “I Stand with the Kurds” and a traditional colorfully embroidered cap. Nearby, a group of people come along in colorful tunics, sipping some blue bubble tea. Punjabi bhangra music drifts from the stage, pulsing with a heavy, hypnotic beat, and the people on the grass spring to their feet. A woman whirls around in an orange sari, children leap onto her, and a couple of boys who were throwing a frisbee start spinning in circles—their pointer fingers poking toward the sky, their arms keeping up with the beat. Only the labrador isn’t dancing. He’s busy licking the last dregs of lassi from a cup and hasn’t noticed that things are heating up.
The lower the sun, the pinker the sky over the Potomac, the denser the crowd on the grass. The festival’s main program is about to start. On the street in front of the Natural History Museum, several hundred Indian women in traditional dresses have grouped together. They are practicing a choreography routine for later on. The hot dog and ice cream sellers, peeking through the windows of food trucks plastered with photographs of food, applaud and whistle. More and more people stream in from downtown, bringing chairs and mats. Many have dressed up, wearing national costumes, there are jackets and tunics from countries around Asia and Africa, bright turbans, saris, and skirts studded with tiny mirrors. The crowd flows gently toward the National Mall. This weekend there’s enough space and positive energy to go around.
The capital of the United States was created for large-scale symbols and events. Designed in 1791 by French urban planner and architect Pierre Charles L’Enfant, Washington, D.C., was to be a sign of the future, a harbinger of a world created in accordance with ideals, a promise of a better life for a nation made of all kinds of newcomers: immigrants, fugitives, fortune- and salvation-seekers. An independent United States became a geographical expression of freedom and multiplicity, and its capital was to pay testimony to these values. For those who now drive down the spacious multi-lane avenues stretching as far as the horizon, who stroll among the imposing buildings, designed to evoke the ancient cradle of democracy, or among the giant bronze monuments of heroes, defenders of freedom, founding fathers, Washington, D.C. is a constant reminder of power. Not just of the rulers themselves, but also the ideas they should serve.
As September turned into October, this city served as the backdrop for the World Culture Festival, a global holiday of diversity that assembles musicians, dancers, and vocalists representing their cultures. The spirit of celebration brilliantly came together with the national motto of the United States, saturating the atmosphere of the capital city, seen on many buildings and in symbolic places, e pluribus unum: “out of many, one.” Speaking during the festival inauguration, Mayor Muriel Bowser greeted the pilgrims, visitors, and artists in a global and multicultural city where difference is seen as an advantage and strength.
During the festival, a spirit of unity and fundamental similarity of people, regardless of where they come from and what they believe in, took hold of the grassy National Mall lawn, which stretches for three kilometers. In this open green space between the impressive Capitol buildings and the 169-meter-high obelisk commemorating America’s first president, George Washington, there were performances by seventeen thousand artists from sixty different countries over three days. More than fifty political and spiritual leaders also took the stage to speak about peace, understanding, and building a shared future. They represented several continents, many ethnic groups, and over a dozen religions. The vast grounds were conquered by a colorful crowd of participants from 180 countries.
That weekend, Dulles international airport and Union Station saw travelers with blankets, mats, instruments, and folk costumes. In the plane I took from Copenhagen to Washington, D.C., most people were going to the festival. The immigration personnel even stopped asking people why they were traveling to the US; they always got the same answer.
This year’s World Culture Festival was attended by a million people, and with the internet streaming it worldwide, this number only grew. This was a cultural and spiritual holiday that was staggering in its size, and its message—the need for unity, for seeing shared yearnings and enjoying being a part of the human family—seemed remarkably pertinent, given that perhaps all the countries represented feel the pressures of contemporary life: polarization, the radicalization of moods, and a growing sense of loneliness and isolation, bolstered by a mental health crisis that is a global problem. The meeting was taking place in the shadow of the war in Ukraine and the local political turmoil engendered by the crisis of democracy in the USA.
Smiling to a Stranger
The festivities began on Friday afternoon with a spectacular parade by the Howard University marching band. Students of this famed HBCU (Historically Black Colleges and Universities), one of the first in the US to oppose racial segregation and provide a chance for young Black students to get a prestigious education in the 1960s, were the first to take the stage with music and dancing.
For the next three days they were followed by soloists, large choirs, groups of musicians and dancers—hundreds of performers; professionals devoting their lives to their art and amateurs responding to Sri Sri Ravi Shankar’s call to celebrate life every day in your own fashion. The performers represented cultures from nations large and small, known only locally or famed across several continents and nurtured in a global diaspora. There were dancers from the Indian state of Gujarat, Swiss Alpine horn players, dancers from Iran, members of native tribes of North America, folk ensembles from Bulgaria, American rappers celebrating half a century of hip-hop, as well as a navy blues band and a choir of singers from India and the USA—together they performed Indian and American national and religious songs. Vocalists from Afghanistan presented mystical religious songs, dancers and drummers from Brazil demonstrated Capoeira, young Ukrainians sang of their longing for freedom and peace, and Irish dancers moved to the rhythm of their traditional melodies. There were Chinese dragons, elaborate choreographies from Indonesia and Japan, and fiery dances from Mexico and Bolivia. While some of the performances prompted contemplation and moved the audience, others were dazzling and made the thousands of onlookers leap up to dance. Some were like carnival explosions, others more like spiritual rituals.
This intense parade was a reminder of how diversely and with what imagination people can celebrate in various parts of the world. And at the same time, how many similarities can be found in the dance and music traditions of geographically distant climes. When one group of artists after another took the stage to present their customs, their performances assembled into a story of uniqueness, but also the universal striving to give life a beautiful form and seek ways to express oneself. The dances, costumes, and choreography bolstered the impression that in this multiplicity, people were after the same shared beliefs and ideals. As one diplomat at the festival put it: “We all yearn for the same thing.”
The climax of every day at the festival was a speech and meditation led by Sri Sri Ravi Shankar. Throughout the festival he wandered among the guests and volunteers. On the sunny afternoons he shaded his eyes with stylish sunglasses, giving him the deceptive look of a superstar, and in the evenings he wrapped himself in a crimson shawl. Perpetually smiling, he observed the performances and chatted with the guests. When he spoke, his voice carrying across the National Mall though the mighty speakers, hundreds of thousands of people paused in their games, conversations, and meals. They fell silent and sat on the grass, their mats and blankets, getting comfortable for meditation. Music from the food trucks continued to ring out, police lights flashed, but silence and gentle calm enveloped the crowd. Sri Sri Ravi Shankar said: “As children, we first gain the ability to sing, and only then do we start to speak. This is why music is part of all cultures, it is a universal way to express the human spirit. We are all part of a global family, we belong to each other. Let’s celebrate life!”
His speeches kept returning to the power of the smile and to how much good simple joy can bring, including for the health of others. “When you pass someone on the street, flash them a smile. Don’t pass by indifferent, pay attention. Life is too short to commit to negative things and thoughts of conflicts. One unhappy person can poison a whole family. A few unhappy families can bring misfortune to a whole nation,” he said. The crowd responded by cheering or waving, and then, at Sri Sri Gurudeva’s signal, the fluorescent bands on the participants’ wrists began to glow and change colors, turning from green to red, causing peals of laughter. This magic transformation was the work of the backstage technical crew.
The creator of the Art of Living invoked the power of dreams and the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr., as well as the mood of the 1960s, when, there in Washington, on the same lawn now filled with hundreds of thousands of peace-loving yoga and meditation enthusiasts, crowds of Black Americans expressed their yearning for freedom and equal rights. This was where King gave his electrifying speech, beginning with the words: “I have a dream…”. The world was crazy for The Beatles and their hit Let It Be, but John Lennon decided to leave the Fab Four and devote himself to pacifism. He preferred to sing an anthem about the coming of a better world: Imagine. An echo of all those events rang in the words of Sri Sri Ravi Shankar: “I’m a dreamer. We are all dreamers. We dream dreams, we hold onto our ideals with true passion. But when we want too much and the pressure is too hard, we have to say: ‘Let it be.’ And so let it be, relax and return to your nature, to the real you—to a sense of peace.”
An Invisible Movement of Hope
The choice of the National Mall, located in the heart of a bustling city and a center of Western politics, as the site of a global meeting of people trying to develop their consciousness, to draw peace from meditation and breathing exercises, may seem surprising. Yet Sri Sri Ravi Shankar says that peace and understanding, even in terms of the great processes of the present, begin in each one of us, in individual work on achieving inner harmony and gentleness.
In Washington, at any rate, there is no escaping from the big symbols. In the frosty January morning of 2009, those same avenues and lawns, after all, were filled with people waiting to see their dreams come true—the swearing-in ceremony of the first Black president of the USA. Aretha Franklin sang My Country, ‘Tis of Thee, the first American anthem, for Barack Obama. For many people stomping their feet in the cold and weeping for joy, this was a day they never thought would come. Yet who would have thought that twelve years later, another American president would be so irate with his election loss that he would rally his supporters to attack the Capitol, a temple of democracy, and brutal scenes would occur, desecrating symbols and guarantees of freedom? The same scenery in the course of only half a century was the backdrop for the flourishing of great ideas, their realization, and a major crisis. The world forever swings from hope to doubt, from aspiration to disappointment.
Politicians and diplomats from dozens of countries conjured ideals of the highest gravity, and proclaimed the urgency of standing up for them, of constantly nurturing them. It seldom happens that leaders speak so harmoniously of values and optimism. It may have helped that some of them were retired diplomats, and thus were freer to express their thoughts.
The festival opened with a speech from Ban Ki-moon, a South Korean former secretary general of the United Nations (2007–2016), who reminded us of the still unfulfilled Millennium Development Goals adopted by the UN in 2001. Among those aims were the elimination of extreme poverty and hunger and ensuring the protection of the natural environment. Ban Ki-moon passionately contended that these goals were within our grasp, and largely depended on the faith and positive approach of decision makers. Geoffrey van Orden, former conservative leader in the European Parliament, motivated other world leaders by arguing that they bore the responsibility for further generations, for recognizing the talents and potential of young people, for building them a better future. His speech drew inspiration from the poetry of medieval mystic Julian of Norwich.
There was more unusual, and even unorthodox behavior from politicians there in Washington. Alojz Peterle, ex-Prime Minister of Slovenia, gave a fiery speech about how politicians need more optimism, music, and laughter in their everyday work, after which he performed a bouncy folk tune on an accordion and bowed to the cheering audience with a grin. Akie Abe, the widow of the late Shinzo Abe, who was Prime Minister of Japan for many years, wept freely and shared her personal experience of meditation that gave her strength in her time of utmost grief. Moncef Marzouki, former President of Tunisia, touched the vast crowd with a tale of how, at a recent party, he observed an elderly lady stepping out onto the dance floor and passionately dancing alone. “Let’s enjoy every moment of our lives. Every day can be a celebration of the fact we are here!” he cried, drowned out by cheers. He ended his speech with an inspiring call: “Perhaps it is naive to try to change the world. But it would be a crime not to try.”
Former Ecuadorian President Rosalia Arteaga Serrano spoke of a wider community connecting people and other life forms. As a woman from an equatorial land abounding in various species, she spoke of our duties to coexist with the planet’s whole ecosystem without violence, to respect diverse forms of life. She recalled that a key to this was knowledge and a sensitive education.
Protestant pastor Gerald Durvey of Atlanta, a civil rights pioneer in the USA, urged the gathered crowds to hold on to positive thoughts, words, and deeds, for they are practical tools to fix the world. Scandinavian politicians inspired us to make everyday acts of kindness—to hold the door open for someone, hand in some lost keys, pause to chat in a shop. They pointed out how these little things can play a great role in overcoming the rise of extreme loneliness and depression. They stressed that with small gestures we can save each other from despair every day. This was seconded by Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, reminding us to share a positive attitude and joy with strangers as well. In the statements of many leaders we heard about the growing complexity of today’s world and the need to bind the global community, for only together can we counteract such formidable challenges as the mental health crisis in young people, armed conflicts, and climate change. Subrahmanyam Jaishankar, India’s minister of foreign affairs, spoke of a humanity that is profoundly diverse, which is why it ought not to be divided—it would never fit in a box anyway. He encouraged those gathered round to express their positive attitude to the world as loud as they could, overcoming the prevailing narratives of pessimism. As a representative of the Indian spiritual tradition, he encouraged the audience to tend to themselves daily through regular meditation. He called those gathered in National Mall the “invisible movement of hope.”
The speeches and appearances had more spiritual content, calling for stronger societal and interpersonal bonds, than political programs. In this sense, the World Culture Festival was like a global convention whose representatives focused on values that could guide rulers: respect for diversity, the right to express oneself unconstrained, just access to the earth’s shared resources, ensuring security, well-being, and peace. This is probably what politics would look like if it were not about gaining and holding onto power, but about the art of making people happy. Noble ideals were tangibly expressed and voiced for those three days in Washington, and their “global supporters” came together.
Everyone Has Their Lawn
This festival stepped beyond the declarations of ideas and great symbols, however. It was also a chance to pick up some practical skills. Tents lined the National Mall with training and consultation points, constantly filled with people attending Ayurveda lectures, doing breathing exercises, relaxing with classes in illustrating stories, and getting medical consultations. There were also morning yoga sessions and thousands of informal conversations where people swapped practical advice about how to keep calm and balanced in a world torn by conflict and economic pressures—and in everyday life, keeping up with its accelerating pace. For many participants, from Bolivia to Japan, the festival itself was a calming practice and an antidote to the endless frustrating signals that we live in a world divided by conflicts. On the Washington lawn, in the last scorching days of the year nearly past, peaceful coexistence was a fact. It looked like a woman nodding off with a newspaper for a pillow, with Afghan melodies for a lullaby. Like four friends meditating with eyes closed under the Washington Monument, under a flapping American flag. Like a girl trying to count all the colorful bracelets on the wrists of her spangled mother. And like hundreds of thousands of hands lifting in unison to wave at Sri Sri Ravi Shankar’s bidding.
In 2023, the World Culture Festival was the biggest demonstration for peace in the world. It was not a protest, however; it was more like evidence that there is a great deal of unseen goodness and positive intentions all around. Whoever spent those three fall days in the American capital knows we can differ and appreciate one another. We can be different and gentle. We can be relaxed and smiling. We can leave the din of the world far behind, and nurture harmony within ourselves. Everyone has a lawn inside of them where they can sit and feel a deep sense of peace. If only for a moment. Beyond that, nothing exists.
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