There are few problems in the world that have not found some echo in the conferences and encounters in Caux since 1946. In 1960 Cyprus gained its independence, after several years of sometimes violent conflict between its Greek and Turkish communities and its British rulers.  The first flag of the new republic to go overseas officially was sent to Caux by the President, Archbishop Makarios, and raised there on Independence Day, 16 August.

This gift was a tribute to the quiet work of people from Moral Re-Armament (MRA, now Initiatives of Change) in the wings of the negotiations between Britain and the different parties to the conflict: the Greek Cypriot majority, most of whom wanted enosis (union with Greece); the Turkish minority who wanted a partition of the island to guarantee their rights; Greece and Turkey.

In 1954, Archbishop Makarios, who was both the religious and the political leader of the Greek community, had stayed in MRA’s London centre, before being sent into exile by the British two years later.

A leading Turkish editor and journalist, Ahmet Emin Yalman, had been in Caux in 1946, and used his pen to try to bring the communities together. In 1958, Yalman wrote in an article widely circulated in the Greek media, ‘Cyprus is not meant to be the point of division. It is meant to be the bridge of understanding.’ Connections facilitated by MRA played a part in the compromise agreement signed in London in March 1959 by Makarios, who was elected President in 1960.

In 1959, two Swiss MRA workers got married, and, in early 1960, left Caux in a minibus, to support the growing work of MRA in Cyprus. Marcel and Theri Grandy had planned to stay in Cyprus for three months, but, as Marcel wrote later, stayed for ‘three extraordinary decades’. Over the years they made countless visits to Greece, Turkey and Lebanon, showed MRA films, hosted visiting groups with plays and musicals, and organized delegations to Caux.

What we didn't know then was that three months in Cyprus would become three extraordinary decades.

‘Theri and I arrived in a country that was at boiling point,’ wrote Marcel. In this environment, so Theri, they had to adjust to ‘life as a couple, a whole new culture in the Mediterranean, an extremely busy, though unplanned, schedule, and living in a small MRA community made up of some quite high-spirited younger people’. Every day Cypriots came to their home with gifts: oranges, potatoes, celery, invitations to their homes and villages, offers of car-rides and even a live chicken. There were many from both communites who hoped to heal their island’s wounds.

After independence, communal tensions continued, despite many efforts towards trust-building. In 1974 there was a coup against Makarios, led by supporters of Greece’s right-wing military regime who wanted union with Greece. This provoked an invasion by Turkey, and a de-facto division of Cyprus. Perhaps a third of its inhabitants became refugees in their own country.

Through the years since, Cypriots have continued to work to break down barriers, build trust and fight corruption. One of these is Spiros Stephou, who first went to Caux in December 1960, as a young customs official in the port of Famagusta.

He had been a member of the Greek guerrilla movement, EOKA, in the 1950s, planting bombs in the port with the aim of driving the British out of Cyprus. His wife, Maroulla, worked with him, but despaired of his gambling and drinking.

At Caux, Spiros seemed more interested in the bar near the conference centre than the meetings. But on the plane home, a realization hit him: ‘If I continue with my chaotic life, I will destroy not only my life but also the life of my island.’

Over the next months, he built a new relationship with Maroulla, told his boss about the goods he had stolen in customs, and slowly paid off his debts. He became known for his stand against corruption and ended his career as Deputy Director of Customs.

If I continue with my chaotic life, I will destroy not only my life but also the life of my island. 

Cyprus’s division continues today, despite fruitless efforts by the United Nations and others to bring a lasting solution. After his last visit to Cyprus, three years before his death in 2006, Marcel wrote: ‘The situation in Cyprus is far from promising. Yet as we talked and renewed our friendships fresh rays of hope became evident. We know how difficult it is in a politically stagnant situation to keep hope and belief alive. But, as we ourselves have known, and as so many of our friends have experienced, with a change of motivation and direction in a person’s life, hope never dies.’

Marcel and Theri Grandy left Cyprus after Marcel was asked to become President of Initiatives of Change Switzerland. He held this post for ten years, from 1989 to 1999.

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Watch the video from our archives of the celebration of Cyprus Independance Day in Caux, 1960

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This story is part of our series 75 Years of Stories about individuals who found new direction and inspiration through Caux, one for each year from 1946 to 2021. If you know a story appropriate for this series, please do pass on your ideas by email to John Bond or Yara Zhgeib. If you would like to know more about the early years of Initiatives of Change and the conference centre in Caux please click here and visit the platform For A New World.

• Video Cyprus Independance Day at Caux: Initiatives of Change
• Cyprus 1959-1960: An unfinished story, Daniel Dommel, Caux Books, 1998
• Photos and quotes: Hope never dies: the Grandy story, Virginia Wigan, Caux Books, 2005

In 1959, a vast fresco – At the stream of life – was unveiled on the wall of the dining room of the Caux Palace. Its creator, the Finnish artist Lennart Segerstråle, chose the universal image of water to represent his vision of the Caux conference centre: a place where people come to the source to quench their inner thirst, and then take the water of life out to a thirsty world. In the centre, a dark figure bends to see himself mirrored in the well and rises, transformed, radiant with life.

Then aged 68, Lennart Segerstråle was Finland’s most famous animal painter, and well-known for his monumental frescos and murals. The Finnish National Gallery, which owns 105 of his works, describes the ‘juxtaposition of good and evil’  as a central theme.

‘Segerstråle’s works dealt with many of the moral issues of the post-war period, such as the problems of developing countries, racial conflicts and environmental issues,’ states their website. Segerstråle himself maintained that ‘the art of the future must be dangerous to evil’.

Just before World War II, Segerstråle had taken part in a Moral Re-Armament (now Initiatives of Change) conference in Aulanko, Finland, which had seen reconciliations between people bitterly divided by Finland’s civil war, 20 years earlier. This helped to reunite the country before Soviet Russia invaded, later that year. Segerstråle said that he painted the fresco in Caux in gratitude for what Moral Re-Armament (MRA) had done for Finland.

Among Segerstråle’s best known works are his frescos in the Bank of Finland in Helsinki and in Varkaus main church. The latter, at 242 square metres, is believed to be the largest fresco in Scandinavia.

If work on a fresco is interrupted for even a few hours, the whole section has to be redone – but he was prepared to take that risk.

An MRA friend, Paul Gundersen, visited him while he was working on it: ‘He used a scaffold on railway tracks to move back and forth along the wall. He had just interupted his work and was talking to a woman, who had come to ask for personal help. If work on a fresco is interrupted for even a few hours, the whole section has to be redone – but he was prepared to take that risk.’

In 1970, Segerstråle was one of a group of artists from many disciplines who met in Caux. The conference led to a book, New Life for Art, to which Segerstråle contributed a paper. ‘The most basic of all facts about art is that the man and the art are one person,’ he stated. Personal factors such as fear of the critics or ‘a wrong ambition’ could sap creativity: ‘there can be many enemies in me which spoil my work’.

The most basic of all facts about art is that the man and the art are one person.

He gave the example of working with a woman assistant on a church fresco. ‘One day we were trying out the colours for the next surface. We each did some, and compared them. I saw at once that my colleague’s colours were better than mine, but I decided we should go ahead with my choice. My colleague silently assented. But there was no joy in it. Teamwork did not flow. The result grew visibly worse.’  On the third day, he finally admitted his jealousy to his colleague, apologized and asked their horrified mason to resurface the wall so they could start again. 

As a Christian, Segerstråle saw his art, regardless of theme, as an expression of his relationship with God. He was generous in his support of MRA, giving the fee from one of his commissions  – nearly half a year’s income – for the dubbing of the film Freedom into Swahili (see 1955). Gundersen maintained that his loyalty to MRA, at a controversial time, cost Segerstråle a Presidential award.

‘Maybe it was understandable that some of those close to Lennart felt that his Christian commitment stole too much of his time,’ Gundersen wrote. ‘Lennart once told me that these critics did not grasp what was the deepest well of his inspiration.’

That well is also the focus of his fresco at Caux.

Throught the years, artists of all disciplines have been inspired by Lennart Segerstråle's concept of ‘art that is dangerous to evil’. Many of them are preparing to celebrate Caux’s 75 Years of Encounters this year. A series of arts events will be launched with an online event on 29 May. Stay tuned and watch this space for a variety of performances, artistic presentations and workshops throughout the year!

Art reflects the spirit of the times. It is a part of the present, but it also looks to the future and helps to shape it. It reports upon the fate of mankind.

Lennart Segerstråle

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Left:

In the centre of the fresco, a figure looks into the mirror of the well of life and finds himself filled with darkness. A change takes place in his heart, and he rises, radiant with light, with his eyes open to a new world and a new life. Five figures behind him carry the living water to the five continents.

Right:

The antelopes in the foreground and the figures carrying bowls represent the millions who long to reach the well. In the foreground an African offers his bowl of water to a sick white man: a symbol of Africa bringing healing to a western world which has lost its way.

Left:

People from different races and continents stream to the water, extending their hands in reconciliation. The children hold a frond of the palm of peace.

Right:

The four snakes in the bottom right corner represent the internal enemies which poison people’s hearts. Mother and father protect their children, raising a spear to attack. They are taking a stand in the battle between good and evil, truth and falsehood.

Discover a full description of the different scenes of the fresco.

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This story is part of our series 75 Years of Stories about individuals who found new direction and inspiration through Caux, one for each year from 1946 to 2021. If you know a story appropriate for this series, please do pass on your ideas by email to John Bond or Yara Zhgeib. If you would like to know more about the early years of Initiatives of Change and the conference centre in Caux please click here and visit the platform For A New World.

• Incorrigibly Independent, Paul Gundersen, Caux Books, 1999
• New Life for Art, Victor Sparre Grosvenor Books, 1971
• Portrait (teaser): Jan Franzon
• Photo 1970 in Caux with friends: Lars Rengfelt
• Photo top, portrait, L.S. painting fresco, with fresco: Initiatives of Change
• Photos 4 scenes: Cindy Bühler

The 1950s and 1960s were a time of expansion for Moral Re-Armament (now Initiatives of Change), with teams of people working all over the world for reconciliation and peace in the wake of World War II. Huge casts of plays and musical shows travelled the globe and conference centres were established in Latin America, India, Japan and several countries in Africa (see 'Our Story').

Among those working full time for Moral Re-Armament (MRA) were couples with young children. A school was opened in Caux to enable the parents to travel when needed  – sometimes to other continents – and to offer the children stability and an education. In an era when air travel was expensive and rare, many of the children did not see their parents for months or even years at a time.

It was a big sacrifice for parents and children alike. While some of the children kept good memories from their time at the Caux School, for others it was a very difficult period.

Mary Lean and Elisabeth Peters write:

Angela Cook (later Elliott) arrived in Caux in 1958, aged four. She spent the next five years there, while her parents worked with MRA in Germany, Asia and the US. She was one of some 40 children who lived in Caux at different times between 1955 and 1965, attending the small chalet school just up the mountain from the conference centre.

For Angela, the separation from her parents was eased by the ‘utterly dependable care’ of the young Englishwoman who looked after her, Jill Dunn (later Loughman). For others, it was hard to bear.

Why would a mother or father leave a small child for such a long period? Part of the answer lies in the urgency of the task they saw before them.

Many of the parents had lived through two world wars, and there was a real fear of a third. Angela’s mother told her years later that she had believed their work could help to avert another war: a potent motivation for someone who had grown up in Hitler’s Germany.

Angela’s mother told her years later that she had believed their work could help to avert another war.

John Bowlby’s work on the psychological dangers of separating small children from their mothers was only just beginning to be known at this time, and it is unlikely the parents – or the teachers or caregivers, all volunteers – knew of it. They believed that they were leaving their children in a safe place, where they would get a good education and that the sacrifice was theirs, not the children’s.

And most of Angela’s memories are sunny: picking wild narcissi in spring; hiking and picnicking in the summer; falling asleep to the sound of cowbells; sledging down the curvy mountain road near the school; flying through a sparkling white landscape on her skis. In those years, conferences continued year-round, and interactions with people from all over the world gave the children wide horizons.

As a child, I never questioned the rhythm of these days. Only later did I begin to comprehend the cost of our long separations.

‘As a child, I never questioned the rhythm of these days,’ says Angela. ‘I knew of nothing with which to compare them. Only later did I begin to comprehend the cost of our long separations to me and my parents.’

Other children found the situation much more difficult. The absence of their parents, frequent changes in caregivers, and the demands of living in a busy conference centre cast a shadow over their childhoods and their adult lives. The boundaries between home and school were blurred, and they missed out on going home to someone to whom they mattered more than anyone else.

When Marion Porteous (born Manson) visited Caux in 2006 with her husband and grown-up daughters, she wrote in the visitors’ book, ‘In spite of the wonderful work of reconciliation, the children suffered. Perhaps our story will be heard one day.’

In 2009, Caux Books responded to this request by publishing Stories of the Caux School 1955-65, sharing the memories, both joyful and painful, of the children, staff and caregivers who spent those years at Caux.

Read more on the Caux School.

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This story is part of our 75th anniversary. In this series we are telling the stories of people who have come to Caux since 1946. If you know a story appropriate for this series, please do pass on your ideas by email to John Bond or Yara Zhgeib. If you would like to know more about the early years of Initiatives of Change and the conference centre in Caux please click here and visit the platform For A New World.

Photos: Stories of the Caux School 1955-65, Caux Books, 2009