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Small Victories
By Jan Øberg
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Youth at a children’s home in Serbia [George Georgiou/Panos
Pictures] |
Remember Vukovar, one of the
centers of death and destruction in former Yugoslavia? We’re in Eastern
Slavonia, Croatia, in autumn 1997. TFF, the peace institute I founded,
had been asked by the UN mission
there (UNTAES) to provide some consultation, mediation and training in
reconciliation between Serbs and Croats after the terrible war that had
started in spring 1991.
Serb and Croat youth had experienced war, fled into camps and not seen
those on "the other side" for six years. Politicians, media, priests,
teachers and parents had filled them with nationalism and hatred of
each other.
TFF’s reconciliation meetings were their first time face-to-face with
"the others." We had about 15 from each side, one whole day. Their
parents and teachers gave the green light, and we had met with them
separately to prepare them. They were escorted by UN police.
They sat down in two half circles, facing each other--indefinable
hostility. Young, vulnerable kids, some silent, most playing it cool. We
started out saying that, since they were all about 10-12 years old when
the war started, none could be personally responsible for it. Then we
invited them to tell their personal story of suffering but: one, only
what you have experienced yourself; two, no mention of who did
what, only what happened; three, no interruptions.
Dead silence! The longest minutes of my life! We, the three
facilitators, had to break the silence by telling a story of our own
suffering. Eventually, one volunteered, then another. Stories like--"One
day I
was playing in our garden when I heard a huge explosion behind me;
turning around, I saw my little brother lying dead, killed by a hand
grenade." Or "We were forced to leave our house in the night; I did
not even have time to take my teddy bear with me."
What had been Serb and Croat stories became common stories. At lunchtime
we were all completely exhausted, many having cried nonstop. Over pizza
and cola, some began to talk over the ethnic divide.
We spent the afternoon encouraging each other by brainstorming on how we
would want Eastern Slavonia to be in 20 years. Lots of laughter,
dreams--moving from hatred and fear toward positive energy and hope.
Many told us that this had been the most important day in years. For
both sides, we were the first adults who had listened to them. They had
learned that suffering was common, that they had been misled by the
lies of politicians, priests, teachers, media and parents.
I’ll never forget the words of one girl: "Thank you, thank you. But . .
. tonight I’ll tell my father everything and about my new friends among
‘them.’ He fought them and is now in a wheelchair because both
his legs were shot off. He will never understand how I can feel what I
feel today, and he will be so angry with me."
It’s the many smaller "victories" among human beings that keep me going.
I believe that, more than fake government "resolutions" and "peace"
agreements, the accumulation of such positive stories, and their
proliferation through the media, can ultimately put an end to war.
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Jan Øberg is
cofounder of the Transnational Foundation for Peace and Future
Research (TFF), based in Sweden. See:
www.transnational.org |
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