مقاله سال ۲۰۱۶

One morning in April of 2013, two delivery trucks simultaneously made their way through the streets of Lahore, Pakistan and Delhi, India, stopping outside a shopping mall in each city. From the back of each truck, a large, unmarked wooden crate was unloaded and workers set to assembling identical red machines: Standing over six feet tall with an opaque glass front and a dispensing tray at the bottom, the machines sat silently as crowds of curious shoppers started to gather. With a flicker, the black screen of the machine in Lahore illuminated to reveal a live video feed of the scene in the mall in Delhi; at the same time, the machine in India came to life,revealing a view ofthe Lahore shopping center. A message flashed on the lower part of the machine in Pakistan: ‘‘Wave to someone in Delhi,’’ it said. Across in India, viewers saw: ‘‘Wave to someone in Lahore.’’ Intrigued, shoppers moved forward. One or two Pakistanis tentatively waved at the screen and were rewarded by the image of Indian shoppers doing the same back to them. They edged closer, following further instructions from the machine: ‘‘Touch hands.’’ They reached out and placed a hand on the graphic outline of a palm and five fingers just as someone else did the same, almost three hundred miles away. ‘‘Do a dance for someone in Pakistan.’’ They danced, watching their counterparts animatedly doing the same, mirroring their moves, smiling and laughing. ‘‘Share a Coke with someone in Delhi.’’ All it took was one touch on the iconic image of a can and in Lahore and Delhi, two people were simultaneously delivered a cold, refreshing Coke. They raised their cans and toasted one another, abruptly realizing that, thanks to what became known as Small World Machines, this was likely the very first time they had ever connected in any way with another person from a country that their governments and the chattering classes had identified as their enemies.

In November of 2013, at a border crossing between Israel and the West Bank, a convoy of vans navigated its way through the tortuous process of exiting Israel and entering the Palestinian Territories. The lead van carried precious cargo: the original, unique FIFA World Cup Trophy, awarded to the winner of the quadrennial global soccer tournament. For the first time in history, Palestinians were to enjoy an opportunity to share in the magic of one of the world’s most prestigious sporting events. A roadshow that covered over 150 countries around the world, with all the exhibits and interactive games and hoopla, would bring joy and fun to thousands of ordinary Palestinians for a couple of days. And none of it would have happened without the collaboration and facilitation of the Israelis.

What did any of this have to do with business and peace? It would be hard to find more implacable national foes, butfor a few daysin Lahore, Delhi, Tel Aviv, and Ramallah, these stories illustrated that business and peace can go hand in hand. Part of the connection, obviously, was The Coca-Cola Company, but the essential ingredients were the universal values of curiosity and shared desires and interests–—the commonality of humanity–—that transcended, even briefly, the dysfunction of separatism and nationalism.