Students attending home schools in Pristina. (Photo courtesy of Shyqeri Obertinca. Via https://prishtinainsight.com/lessons-resistance-kosovos-parallel-education-system-1990s-mag/)
By Mara Smelt
In the early nineties, when the Serb authorities prohibited Albanian education in official institutions, the Kosovar Albanian authorities created a parallel system in which Kosovar Albanians could still receive this education. Private spaces, such as homes, became the places where people gathered to be schooled about Albanian history and culture, all in the Albanian language. Many of the older Kosovar Albanians we talked to had received their education in these parallel systems, thus pointing to the impact this system has had on the structures of Kosovo’s contemporary society. Within academia, it has also been claimed that it was in these spaces that a strong Kosovar Albanian identity arose and took shape.
However, throughout conversations with Kosovars, it became clear that it is not just the kind of education that has left its mark on the contemporary society, but also the ways in which this education was shaped and provided. Kosovar architect, artist, and politician Eliza Hoxha said that, due to the parallel systems, the boundaries between private and public life in the country have largely disappeared. By opening up their homes as places for the community to be educated, people lost some of the luxury of privacy that exists in a home, subsequently affecting the ways in which the fabric of social life was being woven and identity being shaped.
Hoxha’s observations about the interplay between the private and public life immediately sparked an interest and reminded me of one of my first courses at AUC, where we spent some time discussing the concepts of the public and the private. During my first year, these terms seemed like empty words from the Humanities, describing abstract concepts. I was never completely able to grasp their social relevance outside of the academic context I first encountered them in, and so, perhaps in their ambiguity the public and the private stuck with me. Now, almost three years later, I came across them again. Yet here, they suddenly seemed to carry a significance that I had failed to understand before.
In the way Hoxha spoke to us, it became clear that, when the private becomes public – and vice versa – selfhood, identity, community shaping, and social life undergo substantial changes. In this context, the language of the private and the public and being able to differ between the two, provided a framework in which the effects of the parallel system could be further understood.
What is more, Hoxha’s comment reminded me of an interview we conducted with Vesë, a 17-year-old high-school student from Pristina a few days earlier. For our final project for the Peace Lab course, my group and I explored the spaces outside of the house, workplace, or school that young people in Pristina spend their time at. Within academia, it is understood that such places – also known as third spaces – are pillars of community building and shaping. We interviewed Vesë to gain further insights into her experience of youth culture in Pristina.
Through conversations with Kosovars, it became clear to us that social life and interpersonal connection are highly valued by the young population in Kosovo. You can find this in Pristina’s many cafes, where people meet up for a coffee, sit at small tables, and socialize for hours, or in the few bustling streets with bars and terraces that are filled every night. It is here, in these third spaces, that people come together, connect, and spend time with each other.
According to Vesë, a clear distinction can be found between home and spaces for socializing and community building. She discussed how people in the city tend to keep these activities separate from their domestic, private life. According to her, this is partially due to Kosovo’s history. As families were big and there was little privacy within domestic spheres, people started prioritizing their privacy and separating social interactions from time spent by oneself.
When Hoxha spoke about the interplay between the private and the public during the parallel systems a few days after the interview with Vesë, it reminded me of this desire people have to socialize outside of the house. This also made me wonder about the connection between these concepts. To what extent has the historical context of the parallel system, where privacy was not always guaranteed, played a role in shaping the contemporary need for many individuals to preserve the sanctity of their domestic spheres and seek social interactions outside of their homes? To what extent has Kosovo’s history shaped the importance and need for third spaces that people still feel today?
During the ten-day trip to Kosovo, I was surprised by the openness and sincerity of the Kosovars, and by the vibrancy of Pristina’s social life. Pondering about the origins of these habits and ways of life has been inevitable and it is tempting to attribute them to the country’s recent, turbulent past. That being said, these are questions that might not have any set answer. Perhaps it would not even be relevant to find a singular answer to them. Kosovo, although shaped by its recent history, is much more than this narrative alone. Instead of focusing on the past, it seems like it is time to also turn an eye to future.
And so, in our project we aimed to do so by focusing on the current youth in Kosovo. They have a heart for the country and are willing to work for what is to come. Hopefully, by focusing on youth voices and describing their views on what makes Kosovo and Pristina their home, we can illuminate not just how Kosovo has been shaped by the past, but also what it is bringing to the future.
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