Vukovar Trip Spring '23

Written by Victoria Miller, a junior from Boston College majoring in International Studies apart of the Spring ‘23 cohort and interning for The European Center for the Study of War and Peace

From April 20th to the 23rd, the Spring 23 Cohort traveled to Vukovar. We first visited Jasenovac memorial site, a former concentration camp during World War II. At the concentration camp, 80,000-100,000 ethnic Serbs, Jews, Roma, and political enemies of the Ustaša regime were killed. Many in very brutal ways. While visiting the museum and the concentration camp land, seeing victims' names and photos, we remember their suffering and recall that this does not define them. Each victim had a story and a life. 

The next day, we visited the memorial hospital where our tour guide herself had spent time in 1991 and given birth to a baby girl. Many of the rooms are still set up in the way they were during the bombing by Serbian forces. Our tour guide showed us marks in the ceiling where bombs had fallen and operating tables used. It is easy to be stuck in the past, reliving the tragedy at the hospital. However, our tour guide pointed out the bright spots of 16 babies being born healthy and now living adults or the selfless acts of doctors and nurses who worked around the clock. We later went to the Ovčara memorial site, where those taken from the memorial hospital by Serbian paramilitary forces are remembered. Pictures of the victims light slowly on and off to help remember their life and the tragedy that has occurred but also acknowledge this has occurred in the past and there is a future. Lastly, on Tuesday, we went to the Memorial Cemetery, which marks the site of the mass graves. While remembering a dark and tragic time in Croatian history, the cemetery is peacefully covered with flowers and greenery. Experiencing the concentration camp, memorial hospital, and memorial sites, it is easy to be stuck in the past, reliving the trauma and tragedies. However, in confronting these historical traumas, we do justice to those who have suffered while recognizing the importance of acting for peace and preventing such crimes. In the evening on Tuesday, we spoke to Saša, head of Youth Peace Group Danube, a nonprofit that promotes the development of young people while mainly in Vukovar, bringing together youth of all cultures to help build a path forward. Saša's speech helped demonstrate the importance of moving forward past tragedies on both sides.

On Wednesday, we spoke to the hotel owner Pavao Josić about his goal to fight corruption. Pavao, a man of many skills, including creating an eco-friendly hotel, combats corruption in the government by providing the community with information mainly through Facebook. While perhaps seeming innocuous, his fight has exposed many and led to a more just system. We later had our internship seminar and then drove to Ilok, where there was a tour of a wine cellar and Principovac summer castle. Finally, on the last day, we took our Literature class, reflecting on tragedy but also the importance to move forward, and then drove back to Zagreb.

Students on the bus

Ovčara memorial site

Meeting with Saša, head of Youth Peace Group Danube

Meeting with Pavao Josić

Vukovar water tower

Ilok wine cellar tour

Seeing Double: The Faces of the Earthquake in Sisak-Moslavina County

Jill Keegan, junior from Boston College, reflects on her experience of taking an internship with SOLIDARNA, a foundation that works to rebuild villages affected by the earthquake that took place in 2021. Jill connects academic lessons learned during the semester in Croatia with experience of visiting a farm destroyed by an earthquake. 

My place in the back of the car was cramped and awkwardly located, diagonal relative to my supervisor and directly behind the CEO of the company, meaning that I had to hunch forward and do a sort of 45-degree-angle-upper-body twist in order to hear them. I nodded and smiled as they attempted to fill me in on the history of the region and asked follow-up questions occasionally, but mostly stared at the horizon and tried not to get sick from the sharp and winding gravel roads. The roads were so sharp and winding, in fact, that I was not entirely confident in the ability of the small red car to ascend to the top of the hills without breaking down. The CEO of Solidarna, the company at which I was interning for the semester, my direct supervisor, a volunteer, and I were climbing through the villages surrounding Petrinja, the small Croatian city hit most directly by the 6.4 Mw earthquake in December of 2020, and the word “village” seemed more and more incongruent with the surroundings the further we drove. The landscape of modest farmhouses succumbed by degrees to the pure wilderness of rocky fields and barren trees. It was stunningly beautiful, and all I wanted to do was get out of the close quarters of the vehicle and breathe in the fresh air. Still, when we finally did reach our destination, the farm of an older couple who had received a small wooden house sponsored by the organization, I barely had time to take in a breath before I felt the wind knock out of me again. It was impossible to soak in the peace of the surroundings without also confronting the utter devastation it held. The farmhouse was made of brick, and quaint, and also completely crumbled and caved into the field below. The barn was large, wooden, and populated by only a few animals, the rest having been killed by its initial collapse during the height of the earthquake. Even the valley below us was dotted with half-demolished houses and piles of rubble from disintegrated animal enclosures.

The older couple received our small group warmly, with a hug and a kiss for each one of us, and I did my best to glance inconspicuously at the faces of my supervisors to gauge how I should react. We all stared over the fields: my supervisors, high-profile social justice activists; the volunteer, a woman donating her free time to humanitarian causes; the older couple, residents of a two-room makeshift house in an earthquake-destroyed district; and me, the American student come overseas to study in a tailor-made academic program. I recalled the philosophy of double vision we had studied in class and on which I had just done homework and immediately felt ashamed. I felt the grass under my feet, heard the farm sheep bleat from mere feet away, and the immediacy of it all became all too much. Wait a second, I thought bitterly, Just give me a minute, you guys go ahead and figure out what to do when the government grant runs out. I’ll just be here, petting the sheep and thinking profound thoughts about what it might like to be you. It became apparent that I would not be allowed to merely observe when the woman, Rada, pressed a baby bottle into my hand and gestured at the goat staring plaintively up at me. The cows moo’d in the adjacent barn, my supervisor spoke rapid Croatian with the older man, Vlad, while petting the sheep dog, and I looked this little grey goat in the eyes and fed it its bottle. Rada laughed good-naturedly at my awkwardness and clapped me on the back.

We were given a tour of what remained of the small farm. You could see for a considerable distance down the narrow, weedy road alongside us before it disappeared into the brush, and occasionally I saw Vlad gaze down it. His lined face and kind eyes assumed a ruminative, indecipherable expression, a departure from his generally lighthearted demeanor. I knew Vlad had been diagnosed with cancer and that he had lived in their open-roofed shed for a week immediately following the earthquake before any relief efforts reached his remote corner of the county. I had great respect for him, but it occurred to me as I watched him how little I truly knew about him and what all of this meant to him. His was a hard life, that much was fact, but what could I know about the trials and triumphs of his day-to-day? My privilege felt glaringly obvious. It was clear that the couple was excited that I was from America, but even that sentiment–my cultural identity–carried new meaning. It was important to them that I, as a foreigner, understood their story, and it was important to me that I communicated both an openness and a sense of respect. To just be there, to exist in their space, to be a part in some small way of this community even as an observer - it was humbling. I became hyperaware of my own happenstance good fortune to be born into an environment where my material needs were assured, which was an uncomfortable feeling–but not an unwelcome one. Shame perhaps was not the right word, but rather humility. And absolutely, gratitude. I was impressed by the life they had built for themselves; the frivolities and the true joys of my own life became visible with a new kind of clarity as my mode of living was placed in parallel with theirs.

As Vlad and Ivan, our CEO, continued to talk and smoke outside, Rada ushered my supervisor and me into her home. Pictures of her grandchildren adorned her walls, and a small vase of flowers sat on the single table in the common living space. She bustled about and soon presented me with a chocolate bar. I was surprised and remembered the section in the book we had read, Chasing a Croatian Girl, in which the narrator explains how you have to refuse an offer several times prior to accepting. But this was a moment of intercultural communication: I immediately accepted the offer. The gift was a symbol, and a powerful one, of her compassion and of her desire to connect. Her gesture of kindness was moving; here she stood, giving me a chocolate bar, inside the small house set in her small, largely destroyed farm. My thanks felt inadequate. There was so much I wanted to communicate, but even if I spoke Croatian, I don’t think I would have been able to express it. I just smiled as widely as I could and gave her a hug. As we all took seats around the table, Rada began to speak to me via the translation of my supervisor. Her voice began to shake as emotion overcame her, and yet she spoke clearly and emphatically and looked me in the eyes. I wish we could just demolish what’s left of our house. Every day I wake up and I have to see what we have lost and think about everything that could have been. How can I do that? But you are here helping us, and I still wake up every day and look at my house. So there’s something good, still. It was all I could do to stay composed. She looked at me with such kindness that I felt utterly seen by her, and I wished more than anything I was able to offer that same sense of understanding to her. I knew my nods, however emphatic, were insufficient, but to do anything more felt contrived, even brashly presumptive. The weight of her burdens was palpable in the air between us–in the obvious scarcity of her damaged farm, but also in the simple dignity of her well-kept home and in the way Vlad’s hand frequently alighted on her shoulder. So there’s something good, still. These small observations offered glimpses into her life, but these were fleeting, not decisive and unambiguous windows into Rada as an individual. Still, it was in this very inability of mine to thread a narrative, to offer a meaningful and articulate show of compassion, that I realized the beauty of my own limited perspective. I had a limited store of comparable experiences upon which to draw to relate to Vlad and Rada; it was futile to even try to relate on a practical level. All that was left was emotion–empathy and respect for their incredible resilience–and the intimacy of the moment became achingly clear. Double vision, I began to see, was concrete. It was in the moment, in the interaction, and it was not predicated upon a hope for complete understanding. Cross-cultural communication would cease to be cross-cultural if the playing field were level or the medium were perfect.

There was no need for me to isolate myself, Descartes-style, and return to the group to summarize my conclusions. Frankly, I tried. I looked out pensively over the fields and tried my hardest to have a profound coming-of-age movie moment that would indelibly mark my passage into adulthood. It felt cheap, and it was. I was a tiny cog in the machine of SOLIDARNA, more ornamental than anything, and I knew I had to focus on just experiencing each moment of this trip in order to gain any real larger perspective, somewhat ironically. The relief program wasn’t about me, not in the slightest, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t a part of it. I was removed from Rada and Vlad’s context, certainly, but this was a very personal encounter; I felt almost as if I could have lived at that farm, really been in charge of feeding the goats, even as the ridiculousness of that statement remained obvious. As we said goodbye to Rada and Vlad and returned to the car, I grappled with my desire to apply our class discussions to this very real scenario. The speechlessness I had just demonstrated in my encounter on the farm reflected how I now saw the purpose of studying complex philosophical theories: not merely to acquire the ability to regurgitate said complex philosophical theory, but rather to integrate it into your perspective. I didn’t need to debate “double vision” with Rada to engage in it; in fact, a debate on the subject at that moment would likely have precluded the forging of any real connection between us. As I confronted this impenetrable boundary between myself and the other, I was reminded of our very-human drive for connection, belonging, and compassion–the fact that this journey is asymptotic does not make it any less necessary. I am so glad I was able to meet Rada and Vlad; I was so moved that I was unable to consciously project my own thoughts and opinions, thus making the gaps in my perspective all the more glaring. I saw, in real time, that I was not the center of the universe, free to gather experiences like souvenirs and input them into my personality as I saw fit. This was a reality I thought I understood. I did not. As I consider what this semester has meant to me both within and apart from my internship, I am most reminded of the moments of speechlessness like the one I had upon meeting Rada. I’m reminded of being challenged in class and needing a moment to reflect, of hearing a casually-phrased observation from one of our instructors and being touched unexpectedly by its profundity, of taking in a sweeping view of a natural wonder and being touched to my core by the immensity of the world. This all sounds very grandiose, but believe me, these moments were anything but. I have stuttered over my words in class discussions, needed to read passages three times to glean any comprehensible meaning, and been lightly made fun of by my friends as I shed a few unbecoming tears into the canyons of Plitvice Lakes (definitely the most embarrassing example of the three). Maybe it’s a paradox, but somehow the moments when the philosophy we have studied makes the most sense to me are when I am not actively unpacking it at all. Perhaps that is the purpose of the program: not to be a one-and-done semester-long vacation, but an opportunity to develop a mindset that will last much longer. It’s discomfiting, and difficult–my trip to Sisak-Moslavina County exhausted my emotional resources for about a week–but incredibly rewarding. I barely noticed my carsickness on the journey back down the twisting mountain roads from Petrinja to SOLIDARNA’s headquarters, and now when I think of the trip I am reminded of how lucky I was to occupy that cramped back seat at all. I hope the gratitude this experience endowed me with will retain its strength, but I don’t know if that’s realistic. Already, I find myself taking for granted small parts of life in Zagreb–like the cafe culture or the open-air market–that filled me with wonder when I first encountered them. It’s an arduous task to consistently engage in double vision when tunnel vision seems so much more natural–and so much easier. Recognizing the need to see outside of your own petty wants and concerns is a constant task, and I’m sure I will fumble meaningful encounters more than I get them right throughout my life. Still, the gift of even being aware that there is something beyond me in a real, tangible way is one I will certainly take with me long after I fly back over the Atlantic.

What makes ECSWP special?

Komiza, Vis Island

written by: Vivienne Le, Boston College Fall ‘21 Cohort

As our three months in Croatia come to an end, I’ve been reflecting on how much this study abroad experience has meant to me. No matter how many late nights were spent writing papers, there’s a lot to be grateful for. There is undeniably something special about ECSWP as an international educational program that I hope other students can experience.

First, the program is run by the Taylors (Petra and James), a couple with incredible passion for what we’re learning, great knowledge of the region, and extensive experience in both America and Croatia. Beyond the academic and professional side, it was a privilege to get to know both of them on a more personal level. I’ve struggled with talking to adults and forming mentorships with my college professors and so it’s been rewarding to hear from the Taylors about their lives outside of the classroom--their childhoods, how they met, and why they created the ECSWP program. At BC, I’ve had amazing professors who go above and beyond what’s expected of them--inviting students to their home and paying attention to students one on one. Similarly, it’s evident to me that both Petra and James care deeply about their students. As an example, they were the first professors to notice my lack of self-confidence and encourage me to talk more in class. Additionally, it’s been a unique opportunity to be invited into their home for movie nights and dinners and meet their children. I will miss Petra’s constant bubbliness and endless stories and James’ wisdom and ability to crack a joke at any moment.

Second, it was amazing to see how many connections the Taylors have within the Croatian community and to hear from a variety of well-known, established guests that they personally know. Take Amra for example, a Muslim peace activist who took us on an interreligious tour (to a mosque, synagogue, Catholic church, and Orthodox church) in Sarajevo, Bosnia and talked about surviving the Bosnian War. Or Aleksandra, our Croatian teacher for a week, who made learning language fun and was incredibly sweet and patient with my lack of ability to pick up on Croatian quickly. Or Dr. Zilka, a gender and religious studies scholar who redefined what it means to be a feminist as a Muslim woman. Or Pavao, an anti-corruption activist, who hosted us in his hotel in Vukovar and talked about exposing corruption within the Croatian government. It’s much different learning about these hard topics in the classroom versus actually speaking to people in the field, in the countries in which they were affected. Our travels throughout Croatia and to Serbia and Bosnia to hear from these speakers were one of the best parts of my study abroad experience.

Mount Hum, Vis Island

Lastly, I enjoyed the way the ECSWP program used a cohort model. During our specific fall semester, there were nine of us students in total: 4 from Gordon College, 5 from BC. Throughout the semester, I think we all got closer as a whole cohort and within our smaller BC cohort. Because of this program, I got to meet and befriend amazing people from both schools--people I probably wouldn’t have crossed paths with on my own. I feel lucky in having gained new friendships and having people near me next semester who will have understood what I’ve gone through. Rarely does one get the chance to be a part of a diverse group that comes together for a brief period of time to experience something new, adventurous, and uncertain.

There were so many additional factors that made my experience with ECSWP wonderful--being taught by BC Professor Owens, receiving constant on-ground support from ECSWP program assistants Ana and Dina, and meeting other European students. In sum, it is the people that have made my study abroad experience worthwhile. Croatia alone is a beautiful and idyllic country to be in, but without the people it would not have been as impactful. It was a short three months, but I know that the impact of studying abroad here will stay with me as I navigate re-integrating back into the States. There’s a term popular in Chinese and Vietnamese language that beautifully sums up my experience: yuanfen. Yuanfen loosely translates to “fateful coincidence” and is a way of describing good and bad chances and potential relationships. In other words, it describes how a group of people can fatefully come together for a brief period of time, become friends and do something beautiful together, and part ways.

Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

“Why are you going there?”- Sincerely, Everyone

written by: Hannah Spangler, Gordon College Fall ‘21 Cohort

Choosing a place to study abroad is no small feat. There are so many things to take into consideration. What’s the program? What will you study? Is this country safe? What language do they speak? Will you live with a host family? A dorm? How much is this going to cost? Will you even like this place you’ve never been to? Why should you go? These are just a few of the questions I asked myself and was asked when choosing where I would study abroad. I had never left the United States (except for 6 hours in Juárez Mexico, but I don’t really count that). I was an International Affairs major who had never traveled internationally. Deciding where to study abroad was of the utmost importance to me. I had to make this experience count. I wanted to study somewhere with an old and rich history. I wanted to study something that related to my major of International Affairs. I wanted to learn more about people who are different from me. I wanted to study somewhere beautiful. After evaluating all the programs offered to me at my college, I finally decided that the Balkans Semester at the European Center for the Study of War and Peace checked all the boxes. I applied, was accepted, and am currently loving every minute of it.

As I reflect on why I am enjoying the experience in Croatia, I return to the question I was constantly asked leading up to my semester abroad: Why are you going there? Well, the Balkans Semester is an interesting program and what I am learning here is vitally important. Croatia’s history and culture is rich and deep. Someone back home asked me why I was studying in Croatia if I could take philosophy, literature, and history classes in the States. It is true that you can take a Balkans history and politics course in America but being present in the place you are studying changes your perspective. Sophia Notter, a 2019 ECSWP alumna, shared her experience on this matter,

“…looking back I realize how meaningful it was to talk to local peacekeepers in Croatia and Bosnia and hear first-hand about their experiences and their work after the conflict. This was something that I felt wasn't very present in my classes and was a very unique experience that added a lot to the topics we were studying.” 

The opportunity to be present in the place you are studying is truly invaluable.

“Whether in Zagreb, Vis, or wherever the Program takes you, you will always have the honor of engaging with the local culture and people. I found it most meaningful to relate with friendly-faces-turned-friends. Discussing the matter of home with a fellow regular at a cafe; unpacking life’s mysteries with an islander on his boat; dancing to classic rock with a neighbor on his dock; learning how wine was prepared in ancient-Greece from an avuncular do-all; and many other cherished engagements were radically formative.”

-       Courtney Stulzfus, 2020 ECSWP Alumna

As someone who had very little knowledge about Croatia and the Balkans, and we’re talking VERY little knowledge (I thought Croatia was a part of the Soviet Union, big mistake), by studying in this program I have gained insights that cannot be gained from a textbook. During the program you have the opportunity to speak with people who lived through the war in the region. For instance, we were taught by a Bosnian woman, professional peacemaker Amra Pandžo. She told us her story, how she lived through and survived the war in her country, including a four-year siege in the city of Sarajevo, and how during this time she grew personally, spiritually and even professionally.

As you talk to people who lived through violent conflicts in the Balkans, you realize that textbooks drastically oversimplify things and are unable to truly capture the tragedy of war. Hearing personal experiences is entirely different from reading an article about the war. This is especially the case for those of us coming from America with no actual experience of the realities of war on our turf. On the other hand, when we are able to enter more fully into the nuances of pain, tragedy but also resilience and creativity of individuals and communities in war times, we begin to see the world through new eyes. While the themes addressed during the program can be challenging intellectually and emotionally (You can’t just close your textbook and watch some tik toks to get it out of your head), not shying away from the difficult realities of human violence in the end makes us empathetic, open minded and more resilient and creative people who are better equipped to interact peacefully with others.

 One of my favorite aspects of the program is the small cohort style learning environment. You will never face challenging matters alone, you have your cohort.The size of the group you study with allows for rich and involved conversations. When asked what was most meaningful about the program, 2019 alumnus Andrew Wilson said this,

“One of the more meaningful parts of the program, obvious but overlooked, is the group learning and conversation. Our group was diverse in interests and background, so it was interesting to see the Balkans with them.”

I can’t help but agree with Andrew. The cohort has become an essential part of my academic experience at the Balkans Semester. Studying with a small group is not an opportunity many college students get, and it offers a new way to learn. There is no crowded lecture hall where you are so far in the back you can’t read the chalkboard, just a table and chairs where students can freely share their ideas and opinions. Your peers aren’t just there for you academically. They help you through your emotional and spiritual needs as well. Studying abroad is inevitably stressful. The importance of having a support group cannot be stressed enough, and with ECSWP it comes with the program.

I am so excited for the final month of my program here in Croatia and can’t wait to see where this program takes me in the future. Past alumni have done amazing things. Andrew Wilson is currently working with a non-profit that is fighting genocide around the world. For Courtney Stulzfus, her love for philosophy was sparked here and she is currently pursuing her MA in philosophy in Dublin. A love for the pursuit of justice is instilled in those who come through this program. As cliché as it sounds, it is truly life changing.

Spring 2016 Balkans Semester for the Study of War & Peace

Spring 2016 marked the 4th Balkans Semester for the Study of War and Peace. Ten students joined us, two from Wheaton College (IL) and eight from Gordon College. They represented sociology, political science, social work, international relations, peace and conflict studies, and economics departments.

Spring 2016 Cohort

Orientation

The group in Sarjevo

Lectures on the field

We were graciously invited into a family home for tea, coffee, and snacks during a visit to the Roma village

Bethany Nguyen (Gordon College, Class of 2017) presenting on PTSD at the end-of-semester conference

Debriefing on the beaches of Vis Island

Re-entry exercises prepared students to return home and share their experiences from the semester

Some highlights of this semester were our trip to Sarajevo and Srebrenica in late March, a spring break road trip down the coast of Croatia for almost all of the students, a weekend getaway to Slunj, collaborating with an NGO in Vukovar to host a youth workshop, visiting a Roma village, and our academic conference.

This year’s conference, “Looking Ahead: Challenges and Opportunities of Post-Conflict Reconstruction,” was unique among our conferences in that it took a more reconstructionary approach, with student and faculty presentations focusing primarily on the praxis of reconstruction in the aftermath of conflict.

In the weeks leading up to the conference and end of the semester, students concluded their internships and participated  in one of two specialized classes: Conflict Transformation & Reconciliation, and Religion, Identity, and Conflict. Visiting professors teaching the courses included Daniel Johnson (professor and chair of Gordon College’s sociology department) and Judith Oleson, and guest lecturer Brian Howell (professor of Cultural Anthropology at Wheaton College).

The final course block allowed students to build upon and further explore the nuances of their experiences of the semester, and the conference provided a space to present their independent research project. Titles from this year’s projects included:        

“The Role and Ethical Dilemmas of Photography in Conflict Areas”         

  “Hope as a Communal Good”

“PTSD and Cross-Examination: How the Hague Treats Victims of Trauma”

"It’s Not Personal- It’s Just Business: An Economic Approach to Reconciliation in the Balkans

“Confronting Injustice One Friend at a Time: Short Term Mission and the pursuit of Justice”

Following each student presentation panel, we had a time for Q & A wherein students defended and explained their thesis in further detail. The conference proved to be an exciting wrap up to the academic semester.

Dr. Brian Howell presents at the 2016 Conference 

Following the conference, we packed up in Zagreb and all traveled to the beautiful island of Vis for a debriefing retreat and re-entry exercises. Vis is two-and-a-half hours from Split by ferry and is a quiet, wild island still hidden from tourist hoards. The two small cities on the island are provincial, giving us space to relax while still experiencing Croatian coastal life. Besides breathing in the salty, fresh air and soaking up the sun, students were able to spend these few days reflecting back on the semester and preparing to return home.  

At one point, students were asked to find an object to represent their experience of the semester and share it with the group. One student picked up sea glass expressing how the semester was challenging, but in the challenges, she was refined--much like sea glass. Another student picked up two rocks: one was black and white and the other was a mixture of  whites, grays, and colors. She explained how at the beginning of the semester, conflicts seemed black and white to her: there were “good” people/ideas/things and “bad” people/ideas/things. However, she explained, in looking closely at one conflict all semester, hearing various perspectives, she has come to see the world as a bit more complicated, a bit more gray. She learned to listen and not be content with shallow solutions.

Some items collected to represent the semester

We are so proud of these ten students and the hard work that they put into this past semester. It was a joy to watch each student face individual challenges and questions, making connections to their personal and spiritual life, and thus grow in their own way. We look forward to seeing where these students end up in the years to come!

Concluding thoughts and reflections on the 2015 Spring Semester

The 2015 Spring Semester for the Study of War and Peace drew to a close last month. The last three weeks of our time together were spent on the southern Croatian coast, in the historic city of Dubrovnik. After three weeks of specialized classes with visiting professors from Gordon College, the semester concluded with an academic conference. All students, along with the three visiting professors and one key note speaker, presented current work on topics related to peace, war, healing, remembering, and reconciliation.

For the students, the conference was an opportunity to share independent research on aspects of the semester which they had found moving, inspiring, or compelling. Many students presented on topics for which they had a clear and obvious passion. The following presentation titles will give you  an idea of some of the conference topics:

• A Competition of Identities: Victimhood in the Balkans and the Implications for Reconciliation.
• Social Inclusion of Roma Communities in Northern Croatia.
• A Spirit Of Ilm: Mining The Islamic Tradition In Bosnia As An Element In Finding Peace After Atrocity.
• The Deliberately Unsatisfying Nature of Dialogue and Reconciliation.

A segment for questions and answers followed after every few presentations and acted as a platform from which to further discuss the important ideas, concepts and links found among the various research. Students and faculty alike used this space to discuss how their ideas fit together and complemented each other and drew out how varying perspectives might prompt further research and development in someone else’s project.  

As previously mentioned this conference also featured three visiting professors, namely Dr. Ruth Melkonian-Hoover (Department Chair and Associate Professor of Political Science), Dr. Daniel Johnson (Professor of Sociology), and Professor John Sarrouf (Director of Program Development and Strategic Partnerships at the Public Conversations Project). This group of faculty joined the program in May in order to each teach a three-week-long seminar course leading up to the conference. At the conference itself, each professor presented a piece of their current work, applicable to the overarching theme and focus of the semester. Again, students were able to ask questions, discuss, and comment on papers and brand new research in the field of peacemaking, thus allowing for a unique interchange between faculty and students in a setting unlike the typical academic classroom.

One participating student reflects on this conference experience:

“After all the research was said and done, I was glad to have found the topic of my conference research. At the end of it all, I knew that I believed what I was saying which gave me the confidence to go into the conference room, generally worry-free. Correspondingly, I was able to experience the same of others. After hearing everyone’s presentations, I felt as if I experienced a little piece of everyone’s heart and mind in the process. Each person came to the topic that they did through personal reflection and contemplation. It was a privilege to hear from my classmates in that way. It was also interesting to note whose ideas lined up with my own and whose did not. Overall, I was really proud of everyone who presented. Hearing from the faculty was inspiring and enlightening. It was such a delight to hear about what they had been contemplating throughout this experience as well”. 

The keynote address was given by Dr. Richard Kearney, Professor of Philosophy at Boston College and author of many books including, Strangers, Gods, and Monsters. Dr. Kearney spoke eloquently on the subject of hospitality and the relationship between peace and one's willingness to welcome the other.  Dr. Kearney concluded by introducing a project which he and the Balkans Semester program directors, Petra and James Taylor, launched through Boston College called The Guestbook Project. The Guestbook Project is “an international venture committed to transforming hostility into hospitality, enmity into empathy, conflict into conversation”. It works towards these goals by helping young people from different sides of conflict come together to share their own stories and hear stories from those on the other side. Put simply, the Guestbook Project strives to promote peace-building through the narratives found in storytelling.

For the faculty, students, and staff of the Balkans Semester, this conference was both the capstone and the conclusion of over three months of work. Our farewell marked the end of a full semester, but not the end of our journey.  For many, the conference represented only the beginning of a collective movement towards and exploration of reconciliation, on the national, inter-personal and individual levels. 

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Our last night in Dubrovnik.

A big "Thank You" to all of our students who worked incredibly hard this past semester and put together thoughtful presentations. Congratulations on a successful semester and good luck as you continue your studies or begin your careers post-grad. Thank you to our faculty who enriched this experience through the seminar classes in Dubrovnik. We so greatly appreciate your hard work and dedication to our students. It was an honor hosting Dr. Richard Kearney as our key note speaker, especially after having studied some of his texts throughout the semester. Lastly a huge "THANK YOU"  to our program directors who are so faithfully committed to this program and its participating students.

The Vukovar Hospital - A Student Reflection

“Surveying the midnight skies, I remember Him who, while He calls the stars by their names, also bindeth up the broken in heart.” 

-C. H. Spurgeon

The Battle of Vukovar was an 87 day siege of the Croatian city of Vukovar which took place during the latter part of 1991. After being shelled at a rate of up to 12,000 rockets and shells per day, Vukovar fell in November, 1991.

During the battle, over 450 people took refuge in the basement of the Vukovar hospital. Men, women, children, and wounded citizens were among those who sought safety there. A large red cross was placed on the roof of the building in hope that the facility would not be targeted. However, the hospital was bombed on a daily basis. As a result, the top four floors of the hospital were destroyed. Only the ground floor and basement remained somewhat intact.

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This cross hangs in remembrance of the red cross painted on the hospital roof which was bombed during the siege.

The massacre at the Vukovar hospital occurred on the 20th of November 1991. During the final days of this battle, an evacuation of the hospital was negotiated between the military and the International Committee of the Red Cross. While some hospital residents were safely removed and taken to further care, other civilians and prisoners of war were secretly relocated to "Ovčara Farm". Here people from the hospital were beaten for several hours before they were taken to a prepared site to be killed. Their mass grave was discovered in 1992.

Four years later over 200 sets of remains were exhumed from the grave - many more are still missing. To this day, bodies from the grave are being identified through a lengthy and emotionally taxing process. 

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The Vukovar Memorial at the site of the mass grave. 

During a recent trip, our cohort was able to tour the hospital in Vukovar. The hospital has been rebuilt now, but the floor where the patients took shelter during the siege remains largely unchanged in its structure. We walked through various rooms with bunks, hospital beds, stretchers, medicine closets, a maternity ward and operating room. One room has been transformed into a memorial for those killed in Ovčara.  For 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, a candle burns and the names of the victims killed at Ovčara  are listed off via a recording.  

As we walked through the hospital our tour guide told us about the challenges of life in the hospital during the siege - stories of overcrowding, fear, and uncertainty. She pointed out the tiles on one wall of the long narrow hallway which represented the victims of the massacre. There is also a space representing people who are still missing or have yet to be identified.  Our tour guide shared the story of a time that a bomb had fallen through all four stories of the hospital above and landed, miraculously undetonated, in the basement among the patients.  She shared about each of the rooms and the purpose each of them served during the siege. The stories were increasingly harder to hear as the visuals were sinking in and we were experiencing the smallness of the basement space.

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After reflecting on all that I saw and heard at the Vukovar hospital, I am tempted to become lost in frustration and confusion about why these kinds of atrocities are committed. While I grapple through my own questions and feelings, I must remember that this place of dying is simultaneously a place of healing. Today, as well as throughout the siege, the Vukovar hospital is functioning. People are still experiencing healing and recovery there. The people of Vukovar fought to keep others alive and well, even underground, even when the bombs were falling. Medical personnel worked around the clock attending to the hurt and wounded, keeping them alive. Refugees lived in unimaginably tight quarters with few supplies yet some were able to start rebuilding their identities once the siege ended.

In moving forward in my processing and studying, I must reflect on this resilience. I seek to fill my minds space not so much with the atrocity and violence, but may I rather celebrate those who fought for life and healing. My hope for this time of reflection after our visit to Vukovar is that I myself along with the cohort would not be consumed solely by the pain and the confusion, though it must be acknowledged and taken seriously. Rather let us also take time to reflect on those who fought to live. In the midst of the pain, let me also remember life.

 “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name.” 

Psalm 147: 3-4

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Sarah Cox is a rising senior at Gordon College where she studies political science and Biblical studies. During her time in Croatia she has interned with both Transparency International and the European Center for the Study for War and Peace. After graduation Sarah hopes to attend law school. 

SARAJEVO

The Gordon College Spring ’15 Cohort spent this past week in Sarajevo, Bosnia. Upon our arrival we took a walking tour of the city, seeing both the Ottoman and the newer sections of town. Within these first few hours of engagement with the city it became clear how close the war and siege of Sarajevo still are to both the city’s people and its physical appearance. In various places the pavement is marked by a “Sarajevo Rose”, a site where mortar shells hit and left their mark. The grooves in the pavement, the scars, have been filled with red paint, signifying the lives lost in that very place, in order not to forget the tragedy that once was reality.

Ottoman ruins.

On the walking tour.

Sarajevo Rose

We met with the staff of the Center for Nonviolent Action, an NGO involved in various parts of former Yugoslavia. Through programming and advocacy they are seeking to build peace through dialogue, trust building across social borders, and working through past experiences and events in a constructive and healing manner.

In anticipation of a trip to the Srebrenica memorial site, we visited the Srebrenica gallery in Sarajevo which exhibited photographs by Tarik Samarah. Despite having previously learned about the Srebrenica genocide, the photographs of victims, refugee camp living conditions, survivors, barren landscapes, mass graves and row upon row of coffins forced our engagement to a new level. Furthermore, being at the memorial site in the town of Srebrenica the next day brought this part of history much further and more tangibly into our realm of understanding. Though the memorial exhibits a fullness of sorts, with over 8000 headstones representing the lives of men of all ages, there is simultaneously a perceivable emptiness associated with every grave; emptiness in every family that lost a father, pain of every mother who lost a son, sisters who no longer have brothers, communities without their religious leaders, and beyond. As we stood on the outside looking in, we asked how we are to respond. What our responsibility is towards this atrocity? How we can best honor those who have lost, whose mourning may never end, who lived through this part of history and are still searching for what was lost and ways to move forward. How are we to best hold the pain, grief and loss in tension with our own identities, conflicts, realities? 

Only a few hours of sleep later, many students attended morning prayer at a local Sarajevo mosque, followed by conversation with the Imam and many community members over Bosanska kavu (coffee) and Turkish čaj (tea). We were incredibly encouraged by the Imam's honesty in retelling his experience with the war, conflict and spiritual trials, his openness in responding to our questions, and his eagerness to share insights on the pursuing of truth and peace in an inter-religious environment.  

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We wrapped up our time in Sarajevo with a “Siege Tour” of various locations where the forces were stationed, high in the hills surrounding the city, during the four year siege. We walked through part of the Tunnel of Hope, connecting the city to a “safe zone” and representing the only way out of the city during the war, and trekked up the 1984 Olympic bobsled run, from which the city was frequently targeted.

on the bobsled run

the Tunnel of Hope

Now back in Zagreb, we continue processing through our experiences in Sarajevo. We are grateful for the opportunity of engaging with another place that is working through its recent past as it presently partakes in the process of healing, reconciliation and hopefully sustainable peace.

Spring 2015 Semester Cohort

We are excited to welcome the second cohort of students participating in the Balkans Semester for the Study of War & Peace. This group of 14 students from Gordon College will spend one semester studying war and peace, conflict reconciliation and transformation through course work, internships, and travel. Individually and as a group students will interact with questions of sustainable peace, justice and forgiveness, inter-cultural living, and inter-religious responses to war and approaches to peace. 

back row: Marco, Danielle, Claire, Noel, Sarah, Anna, Chanel, Rianna.

front row: Chris, Adrianne, Emily, Lily, Sam, Sandev.

Welcome!

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