Number 3, Spring 1996

CCCRTE

by Diana Francis

Apart from the four Swedish, one Finnish and one Hungarian woman representing the European Women's Ecumenical Forum (the organising body), and the workshop leader from England (me), the group that gradually came together at a Reformed Church conference centre near the shores of Lake Balaton was made up of women from different parts of what was once Yugoslavia. There were five Hungarians from Vojvodina and one from Croatia, one Serb and one Albanian from Kosovo, one Croat and one Serb from Belgrade, and Croats and Bosnians from Zagreb and Osijek in Croatia, and from the border town of Zupanja, which has suffered years of constant bombardment. Ages ranged from late teens and early twenties to middle age and beyond, which, together with the variety of styles, personalities and professions, and the mix of deeply religious women, Protestant and Catholic (no Orthodox or Moslem) with atheists and agnostics, made for a group of great complexity. Two things united us: that we were all women and that we all longed for an end to the hurting in what was once Yugoslavia. Although I had been well aware of the intention to bring together a regionally and nationally mixed group, and to draw in women who had not yet experienced similar workshops, I had not fully internalised what that would mean in terms of fear, suspicion, pain and hostility. As part of the introductory process on the first evening, participants spoke -- first in twos and threes, and then in the whole group -- of their hopes and fears for the week. What they hoped for was trust, openness and tolerance; what they feared was mistrust, lack of openness, and conflict. At the word 'conflict', one young woman exclaimed that she was shocked that anyone should think conflict possible in such a group. This gave me the opportunity to say that I fully expected conflict; that it was my experience that groups started with a determination to be united and that in the event it was through conflict in various forms that they forged a stronger, deeper unity; that we had succeeded in bringing together a group which mirrored the mix of nationalities of former Yugoslavia and that by the same token we were bound to experience some of the tensions of the current situation there; that we had come together to learn about creative responses to conflict and that learning by doing would be the most fundamental learning; also that I was confident we could do it -- manage the conflict, respond creatively -- and that I wanted participants to trust themselves and the process.

The women engaged with a will in the first full day's work; but I sensed their tiredness and stress. By the afternoon, rumour had reached me that members of one ethnic grouping were saying that two young women from the majority nationality in their region were probably spies. Before I could arrange to meet with them to discuss their fears, the storm broke. In the evaluation at the end of the afternoon, one of the older women in this minority group (a substantial group within the workshop) exploded with agitation and said it was not possible for her to work in a group where some members supported the expansionist ambitions of their government, and where she felt that to be open would expose her to great danger. One of the two young women referred to, responded that she had not expected to be attacked in such a group and that she felt threatened by such behaviour. This, as the older women later explained to me, was the last straw for her. How could a member of the ruling majority feel threatened? It was her people who were being threatened (and worse) with the suppression of their language and culture, with the confiscation of their homes so that they could be given to incoming refugees, ultimately threatened with "ethnic cleansing". She left the room in tears. The group sat dumbfounded and I acknowledged the distress and fear that the exchange had both reflected and engendered, repeating that such

conflict was to be expected, that the feelings on either side were understandable and should be respected, that I had every confidence that they could be handled and that it was good for all of us that they had come out sooner rather than later. As I left the session, I spoke with the young woman who had responded. She was clearly upset by the effect of her words. She had not, she said, intended to hurt or offend, but explained her own feelings at being, as she felt, accused. I went to the older woman's room and found her in great distress, sobbing that she was not used to such "psychological workshops", that she had been already near to breaking point and did not know if she could stand the pain of this experience. I held her, comforted her, apologised for any part I had played in causing her such pain, listened to her explanation -- the suffering and fears that had led to her outburst; her indignation that someone from the ruling nationality in her region should claim to feel threatened. I tried to explain to her, from my own understanding of what I had heard and from the younger woman's clarification, what she had meant. The older woman asserted that she had not accused anyone of anything -- had spoken only generally -- which I challenged, as gently as I could, repeating what I had heard. I also said that I knew the young woman already, and that she was well known in the peace movement (which the older woman correctly said did nothing to prove she was not a spy) and that I was quite sure she was an opponent of their government's expansionism and nationalism. The older woman could not see why she had not said as much, and I pointed out that she, with her background, would consider that self-evident. At last I asked the older woman what she wanted to happen and how I could help. She replied, "Oh I know what I must do. I'm a Christian. I have to be reconciled." I wanted to ask her if she understood what she was saying, but decided that would be impertinent. She gave me permission to outline her feelings to the young woman, and to arrange a meeting. Then she dried her eyes and came down to dinner.

I marvelled at her courage. After the meal I found the young woman and tried to help her understand (without betraying any confidence) what lay behind the older woman's outburst and subsequent walking out, explaining that she had no experience of opposition or peace movement people from within the majority and needed to hear her say what she herself took for granted: that she opposed her government's policy and actions and had indeed suffered for her views and actions against those policies. (She had been suspended from her job for six months.) The young woman was only too willing to accept both the explanation and the need.

She and I were looking for the older woman when we came upon the residue of the base group to which, by good fortune, they both belonged. They were discussing together what they could do to help their two missing members. I said that I thought their greatest need was to feel accepted, that their behaviour was understood and that they would still be welcome, and would have the group's support in dealing with their conflict. The young woman hung back, saying she did not want to interrupt their discussions, but they drew her in; and at that moment the older woman arrived and joined the group and she and the young woman began immediately to say to each other what they needed to, with the group's gentle support; and, seeing the matter well in hand, I withdrew.

By the end of the week these two women -- of different ages and ethnic backgrounds, degrees of religiosity and world view -- had become each other's firmest admirers. "I still find her views difficult sometimes", said the young woman of the other, "but she's wonderful." Both played an active and constructive role in the rest of the week's proceedings, working with spirit and commitment; and I know they have been in touch with each other since.

I would like to have been more alert to the position of the two young women from that majority population who found themselves alone in our group. They felt very much isolated and besieged at times, as they told me later. They had no traumatised refugee of their nationality in the group to point to, either -- no comparable suffering to place beside the suffering of some of their fellow participants. But they really handled their position very well, and their very vulnerability in the group probably helped to disarm the prejudices of others. They also shared information, in a quiet way, about the pressures and difficulties of their own lives, which are very far from easy, which came as real news to some group members, and radically altered their perceptions of what it could mean to be a member of that national group.

The individual and related journies through the week of those two women who had been in conflict somehow symbolised the unfolding of the whole group process. When I announced at the beginning of the second full day that they had met, together with their group, and had reached a new understanding, the relief was palpable. I remarked that although it was unlikely that we had seen the last of conflict, we could now feel the confidence that came from experiencing that we had the capacity to handle it. These feelings were reflected in the feedback from the base groups that evening. Trust was growing. Participants were far more confident and at ease, relaxing into the process.

Because of what had happened, I had decided, after some reflection and consultation, to change the order of the agenda, so that instead of proceeding with questions of violence, non-violence and empowerment, we reverted to the subject of communication and the obstacles to it, including matters of identity, prejudice and strong emotions (followed by "needs and fears mapping" -- an exercise in empathy as well as analysis).

One experienced participant whom I consulted felt this was something we needed to do, in order, especially, to address the question of individual and group identity and responsibility. Nonetheless, she was not convinced that we could handle it. We decided that it was a risk that had to be taken (the idea of risk-taking was a theme for the week) and, in the event, the day was all we could have hoped for. My consultant told me that evening that she had been very much afraid, but now felt completely satisfied, to the point that if there were nothing to follow "it would be enough." We had done what she had not thought possible and looked at these hard issues in ways that had not threatened participants but, in the words of another base group reporter, drawn them through a process in a way that did not hurt anyone but in which each felt she had been listened to. Since the questions we had worked through were also inescapably challenging, this was good to hear. The crucial exercise, I think, had been one in which participants are invited to look at the question of identity and belonging. Each is asked to make a list of as many groups as she can think of to which she belongs or which help to form her identity; then to select the three which she considers most important and to write by each of the three something about it that makes her feel proud, and something about it that makes her feel uncomfortable or ashamed. Participants are then asked to share these lists with one or two others and possibly go on to tell each other about occasions when they have been on the one hand victims of prejudice or discrimination and on the other hand guilty of them. We did not do this. Individuals share with the whole group anything that they choose to, discussing, as appropriate, questions of difference, justice, and the need both for critical awareness, and respect and sensitivity, in relation to our own cultures and those of others.

Later in the week, participants chose to analyse together situations "so hot", according to my experienced consultant, "that we'd have needed the fire brigade, if we'd mentioned them at the beginning". There were differences, arguments; but handled from a basis of trust, and, therefore, no longer too threatening. Nonetheless, the women were surprised by and justifiably proud of their own courage. This profound learning and changing, brought about by the experience of confronting conflict and building community out of difference, was further deepened by the experience and recognition of common pain.

On the morning of our next to last day, as we shared stories of non-violent action, we were stopped in our tracks by an explosion. In all probability it came from the use of dynamite on a building site or in a quarry; but in our group its effect was devastating: panic, half relief, nagging doubts, bitter tears. Once the women were convinced that there was no danger to us there, they were overtaken by the fears and grief of years -- and of their present reality. The stories came spilling out: of cratered gardens, rivers where no-one dared swim, useless wrecks of houses, lost relatives, the daily risks of humdrum activities. After much crying, holding, smoking, singing, more crying, cigarettes and coffee, this courageous group went back to work. That is how they cope -- by carrying on. And at our party that evening we laughed as none of us could remember laughing -- real laughter, joy, total silliness, complete relaxation; and closed with more tears, as we lit candles of hope and longing.

Could all this have happened in a mixed group, or a men's group? I think not; but is that my prejudice or lack of trust? Is it possible to generalise? There were clear reasons for the intensity of feelings here; but in a mixed or male group could they have been expressed and handled with such freedom? Could they have been allowed to flow, to reach completion -- both the pain and the comfort, the tears and the laughter? Probably physical contact is important in all this, and in our group it was unrestrained. (I certainly felt, and wrote in my journal on the first evening, how totally different men and women are. I realised how free and at home I felt in the group, and noted, "I should try and respect `the other' more (i.e. men). I do the classic thing of applauding individuals, then regarding them as exceptions and rubbishing the rest.") In my reflections on the gathering of trainers and educators (almost all women) from former Yugoslavia held in Schlaining in the Spring, I remarked on what seemed to me a reluctance to spend time on analytical and strategic thinking and the more political aspects of conflict. Although the word "political" was used only pejoratively at Balatonfured, there was no reluctance to engage with questions of inter-group conflict and public policy; indeed, the applicability of the offered models to such situations was a matter for great satisfaction, according to the feedback of all the base groups. The cases chosen by the different working groups during the day were highly appropriate to the models (or vice versa!), and the analysis and consequent strategies which they produced extremely cogent. The theoretical input given to provide a context for the work of that day was also received attentively. Indeed, I remarked in these women no lack of enthusiasm for theory -- only a determination to find practical applications for it. Likewise, our discussion on the theoretical and philosophical for non-violent action, and its different forms, was valued for its relevance to participants' own experience because it gave a name and a thought frame to what they had been doing instinctively, so affirming their already courageous and imaginative efforts and helping them to think about them more clearly. In addition, participants considered their newfound knowledge to be practical because they saw it as transferable to their groups at home (especially with the help of the promised manual). The assumptions on which this workshop had been based had been explained on the first evening and were as follows:

• that the spiritual, emotional and practical aspects of the group's deliberations and experiences will be woven together, since they are inextricably linked;
• that the group will become a community of learning, using participatory methods, drawing on the experience and wisdom of each person, and working in an informal and relaxed atmosphere;
• that analysis and imagination are both important, and thatlaughter and gravity are complementary;
• that the agenda which has been prepared is intended as a framework for the development of understanding, skills, resources--and commitment, and that it can be changed as the workshop goes along;
• that the group's own experience of working together will provide important material for learning, and, when it seems particularly relevant or necessary (for instance, if there is a conflict), what is happening in the group may, for a while, become the focus of its work.

We lived out all these assumptions. Our days began, for those who wanted it, with a time of meditation, to which many contributed - - those who had already identified themselves as religious. But the depth of communication and emotion which characterised the discussions which went on in and out of sessions, and the passionately held values expressed, could also be termed "spiritual", and one of the cross-boundary exchanges which took place in the group was between religious and not-religious members discovering what made the other tick. The mixture of seriousness and levity, intense discussion and crazy games, helpless tears and uncontrollable laughter, was also a hallmark of the week, and gave us a feeling of wholeness in spite and because of the grief. It was a mixture we needed for the health of each individual and for our healthy growth into a community. The experience of discovering and sharing so much latent knowledge, both in plenary sessions and in work done in small groups, was a powerful and exciting one. One participant said to me at the end, "How did you do it? When you asked us a question, you wrote down all our answers. How could you know we'd get it right?" I explained that I worked from the assumption that they did know most of what they needed already, and that I had made any additions or comments I had felt necessary. Another participant, giving feedback from her base group, remarked, "It's interesting that the things we've been learning have been things we already knew but couldn't use because something in our thinking was stopping us." Helping the knowledge (as in "understanding") to flow, as well as giving it some useful order, is a large part of education. Exchange of information was in this case also of great importance. Within the divided region of former Yugoslavia, it is hard for communities to know what is actually happening elsewhere, and what others are experiencing.

This group's sharp engagement at the conceptual and analytical level was well matched by its imaginative and creative energy; which meant that reports from small groups, so often tedious and lacking in impact, were in this case fascinating, being both clear and colourful in their presentation; and in the breaks as well as in sessions, women sewed and drew, read poems, created -- symbols and danced. The variety inherent in the methodology of the workshop, and its participatory nature, together with the experience of handling the dynamics of our own group -- served, according to participants, to maintain both interest and energy. ("We saved a lot of money here. Often at seminars we get bored and go to the shops instead.") Besides maximising learning by the sharing of knowledge, participation aided its digestion. "It's easiest to remember things you've been involved with. Working on our own cases and doing role-plays: that's what made it all work." The agenda certainly underwent changes, both major and minor, in response to what was happening in the group and to needs expressed, for example, for more rest at lunch time.

Responsiveness to need was something we all aimed for, and represented the living out of the value of respect, which provided the foundation for our working and living together. One of the base group reporters, expressing her group's appreciation for the fruit which was provided during breaks, noted that it was not only the fruit itself that was appreciated, but the care which its provision represented. Through this kind of practical respect, through the experience of mutual attentiveness, through the base group process which provided a place for all voices to be heard, chanelled, and taken into account, participants felt the healing and strengthening power which comes from recognition and acknowledgement.I hope that respect, acknowledgement and encouragement were among the things I was able to offer as workshop leader. With this subject matter particularly, it seems essential to try, at least, to demonstrate as well as talk about it. This is true for the whole group, as well as for the leader. For me, it was a particular pleasure to have someone say to me at the end, "You're a wonderful pedagogue (am I really a pedagogue?) - not just because of your methodology: most importantly because of your attitude." And I can say the same for the group: they were wonderful participants, not just because they engaged with everything with so much zest and intelligence, but above all because they lived out the care and acknowledgement which lay at the heart of all our work and aspirations. At the beginning of the week, I had the feeling that the working agenda we were proposing was in itself a profound disrespect for the women's real (apparent) need for nothing more than a good holiday -- and I think more than a few of them shared the same feeling. However, as the days went by, it began to be reported that this was much better than a holiday, as well as being a holiday in itself because it was so different: it was giving the women something that they sorely needed: time out of danger, time to be looked after and free of responsibility, but also food for the mind and heart: understanding, inspiration, encouragement and love.

I cannot adequately express my respect for these women: for their courage, vitality, determination, their sheer will to keep going, keep living, keep their lives, their dignity and humanity intact. The way they went back to work after that bomb scare was symbolic of the way they cope at "home"; how they keep picking themselves up and doggedly carrying on with their lives. One of them described how the women of her hometown, Sarajevo, manage, without chemist's shops, without even running water, to keep themselves immaculately turned out -- not so much because it matters in itself, but because it symbolises their determination to retain their dignity in the midst of degradation. Others spoke with weary pride of the fact that every day they get up and prepare food, take their children to school, do whatever work there is to be done. This is the way they survive; and in addition they still find the will to keep struggling for the maintenance, or development, or resuscitation, of those things in society which even now embody human decency. This was the common ground they found, the spirit they shared and nourished in this week by the lake.

In the closing session our interpreter, a highly professional but somewhat unapproachable woman, finally thawed and spoke for herself: "I spend a lot of time at important conferences where the words are all empty -- hot air -- and nothing real is said. The contrast could not be greater with this workshop, where everything that has been said has come from the heart. I have been immeasurably enriched." She spoke for me too; and that communication of such depth and honesty took place in such a group and at such a time seems to me clear proof of the miraculous power of our will to connect, of our instinctive recognition of our interdependence, our need for communion. Given our capacity for hurt and destruction, thank God for such a power and such an instinct.

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