A bridge
separating the Albanians and Serbian areas of Mitrovica. Cars still cannot
travel across it.
In the first couple days of the
Peace Lab course, Anne asked our class what peace meant to us. Initially, we
explained the meaning of peace we have all discussed in our international
relations classes. We said peace is the absence of conflict, when there are no
more armed fights, no more mass atrocities, and the frustrating tensions
between certain groups are no longer bursting with violent impulses. After
hearing these responses, Anne asked us to think more about what peace meant to
us on a personal level. What is a peace within a family? What is peace within
oneself? The answers then took a more emotional turn: peace is a feeling of
safety and of ease - above all, peace is comfortable.
During my time in
Kosovo, I struggled to find peace within myself. The semi-stressful, new
circumstance unexpectedly led to the re-emergence of mental health issues I
thought I had overcome months ago. I will not go into details, but I share this
fact because it created an interesting situation: I was constantly preoccupied
with Kosovo’s peacebuilding processes, but I also had to consider my own
personal “peacemaking” as I experienced inner conflicts.
I have no nice
analogy to make between mental health struggles and war: the difference in
levels of intensity are obviously too large. What I can say is that I have
never wanted peace more than I did during my time in Kosovo. I wanted it not
just for myself, but primarily for the country in which I was hosted. I faced
the aftermath of conflict in almost every formal meeting and conversation we
attended in Kosovo. On one relatively average day, we met with a representative
of the University of Pristina at Mitrovica, a school that was born out of the
Serbian-Albanian ethnic conflict, the Field of Blackbirds, an iconic place for Serbian
nationalism, and a non-governmental organization called the New Social
Initiative, which conducts research on citizens’ experiences with their new
government because official state institutions do not listen well enough.
Even though the international
community has put enormous amounts of resources into improving the situation in
Kosovo (e.g. the establishment of EULEX in Kosovo and UNMIK), pessimism about
the nation’s future remains high. There may be infrastructure now, but the
economy is weak: half of young people are unemployed, and thousands of workers
at international organizations face looming unemployment as foreign involvement
is downsized - a concern echoed by my host father, Enver. As a result of this
dire situation, most of the Kosovars I interviewed for my qualitative research
project framed their futures as grim or uncertain. The conflict has ended, but
Kosovo is still an uncomfortable country to live in - it does not inspire the
warm and fuzzy feelings of sustainable peace.
In fact, I can imagine the distress
created by low economic and career prospects often feels overwhelming. The
Kosovar people are uncomfortably forced into facing semi-undesirable options
for their futures: buy into the Kosovar hiring system’s corruption, emigrate
for better job prospects, or work twice as hard trying to pin down a well
paying, long-term job within Kosovo. As I spoke to Kosovars and grew to
empathize with their struggles more and more through my fieldwork and homestay,
I realized how ridiculously privileged I am to have always lived in peaceful
political environments. Sure, people everywhere face conflict in their daily
lives with family, relationships, and mental health, but it is a great
advantage to not deal with conflict perpetuated by the state on top of all
this.
As a result of
this realization and my personal struggles with mental health during the trip,
I came to appreciate peace on a much deeper level. Before this trip, I had
never thought much about how to define peace - for most of my life, I have been
lucky enough to take it for granted. Kosovo taught me that, for many people,
peace is rare and temporary: even when a state conflict ends, the following
uncertain future can lead to years of turmoil in mental health and
relationships. Thanks to my experience in Kosovo, I will place the word “peace”
at the forefront of my mind through the rest of my studies. While learning
about international relations, and also while balancing my personal life, I
will value peace the most.
The Mountains of
Prizren
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