When I re-read 'the data' (i.e. the long interview transcripts with my notations and analysis), I came across a personal reflection I had written which I like to think of as my testimony to the lives and sacrifices of these teachers. What I wrote here is not intended to mean that I believe enough is being done to address the past and present wrongs that burden BiH society, nor is it to claim that peace education is well consolidated throughout Bosnia and Herzegovina or that it is achieving everything it ought to. There are still many problems and challenges. But there have also been important strides forward. And what I saw in these ordinary yet extraordinary people reminded me of why I am so committed to this work.
[Clarke-Habibi (2012). Educating for Reconciliation? Excerpt from research notes:]
Engaging with this study brought me to reflect on my own lived experiences, which I share here in some final thoughts:
I, too, was an educator for peace in Bosnia-Herzegovina. Unlike the educators in this study, though, I did not live through war. I did not see my city destroyed, nor lose my husband, father or other family members to pointless and violent death. I did not see women violated or children murdered. I did not suffer the agony of sustained physical deprivation. I did not fear for my life. Nor did I feel any coercion to ‘take sides’. Nevertheless, educating for peace was hard for me: it was hard to work out logistics; hard to negotiate collaboration; hard to engage with pessimists and nationalists; hard to inspire confidence and trust; hard simply to keep the process going. I can really only imagine how hard it has been for people who have lived through such horrific experiences, and who are continuously reminded of them in the news, in their physical surroundings, and in the private sphere of memories.
The more I learned about the war, the more the choices made by these individuals to educate for peace meant to me. Indeed, I came to see what they do as a way of resisting the gruesome forces of dehumanization that the violence unleashed in their society. I saw them choosing to affirm their humanity and determining to resuscitate the lost and broken humanity of others. I saw their work as an assertion that human beings are not violent beasts, but aspire to goodness and justice, and have a capacity for choice, and a birth-right to dignity. That these individuals educate for peace despite the evident emotional, political, and practical difficulties involved, is to me a testimony to their incredible resilience, courage and determination. My admiration for their commitment, their work, and their willingness to share their experiences with me, is immense.
Recently I have been going back through the qualitative data that I gathered in 2012 for a study I conducted on peace educators in Bosnia and Herzegovina. The interviews delved into the personal life histories of eight men and women who had lived through the war and had since expended incredible energy to promote Education for Peace in primary and secondary schools throughout the country. It was an emotional journey for me, having been part of the original Education for Peace pilot project which began more than a decade ago, only a few years after the war ended. I remembered those early days when encounters across 'entity lines' were both frightening and cathartic 'first' experiences since the war. But hearing about the lives and experiences of these teachers and knowing how much they had worked in the intervening years, in spite of so many obstacles to promote healing, understanding and a better future in their country was so moving.