Sarajevo in war and peace.

When I made my first journalistic trip to the lands of former Yugoslavia, I was trying to understand what had happened, why the war had broken out there. I sought the answer in three years of journeying (1992-1995) through Serbia, Croatia, Macedonia, Kosovo and Bosnia. I spoke to simple people: villagers, soldiers and children, to journalists from Belgrade, Croatia and Oslobodjenie in Sarajevo. The result was a collection of reports published as a book in Polish under the title An Epitaph for Yugoslavia.

I particularly remember my visits to the besieged Sarajevo. Describing life there, I wrote: `If it was a nice, sunny day and the shooting had stopped, people could walk beside the Miljacka River. They caught precious drops of water if, of course, there was any in the taps; they collected fuel for the winter; and grew onions and chives in pots on their balconies. Staying at home when the curfew began, they meditated in the darkness on how to survive the next day. They counted the cans of beef and beans received through humanitarian channels (Sarajevo's refuse dumps are covered with empty cans) and dreamed about how oranges tasted. They looked at the armed UNPROFOR soldiers with their bullet-proof jackets and wondered why these "astronauts" had come there and why Bosnia had to suffer so much....'

During the following years I wasn't emotionally capable of returning to former Yugoslavia; I felt so helpless about the situation. I didn't want to revisit the burned out houses, the bombed mosques and churches. I didn't want to talk to the people, to see the same sorrow on their faces.

In my last article in 1995 I wrote: `We live in comfortable air-conditioned apartments. Sipping coffee, we sit in our favourite armchairs not wanting to think about anything unpleasant which could infect us with feelings of guilt and pity for suffering people. We wish to feel safe and nice. Three-minute TV newscasts inform us about new world conflicts, exposing us to human blood pouring over white stones. Then we go to watch movies in which actors shoot at each other in order to amuse us.

`We push Bosnia out of our minds, beyond the reach of our emotions.... We feel better than these "Balkan barbarians" who "will be killing each other till they completely exterminate themselves".... One can also help from this standpoint. For example, one can send used clothes to "these barbarians" or even buy them some milk-powder or flour ... Let them know how noble-minded we are....

`But helping people proves to be a complicated craft. Those who have received humanitarian aid know only too well how easy it is to hurt the recipients, how difficult it is to help without satisfying the demands of your own egoism. Helping means more than collecting money, clothes and food for suffering Bosnians, Africans or Chechens. It obliges us to remember, fellow-feel and protest. But many of us don't want to care. We are encased in a sphere of insensibility. But we shouldn't stay neutral. Our neutrality could lead to unpredictable results. It could produce a horror that would stun the world. Then it would be too late to act....' The world has acted, at least in a limited way. NATO strikes and Western diplomacy have forced fighting factions to accept some basic peace conditions. Earlier this year I returned to former Yugoslavia with William Porter, Chairman of the International Communications Forum. We visited Belgrade, Zagreb and Sarajevo meeting media people, asking questions and listening, searching for solutions of reconciliation. We talked with the presidents of different journalists' unions, publishers, editors and reporters.

We were impressed to hear about a journalism course organized by Swedes for the Balkan media. They had invited journalists from the different republics of former Yugoslavia, who were so glad to meet that they talked almost through the night. They felt a need to meet once more and plan a reunion this autumn in Ohrid, Macedonia.

We were impressed by the BBC school in the Soros Media Centre in Sarajevo, and by the people operating Radio FERN (Free Election Radio Network) which is sponsored by the Swiss government.

Throughout, the journalists we met showed a strong dedication and willingness to overcome the national hatreds and divisions inflamed by politicians.

Walking with Bill Porter, in the now safe and crowded streets of Sarajevo, I felt hope arising deep in my heart. This time I'll add a different paragraph to my story: `People there need hope like a plant needs water. They came through hell and their hope is a most precious one. The international community should feed this hope by all possible means.'

With this in mind we invited journalists from the region to attend the media forum at Caux. They shared with us their fears and hopes. Natasha Pejic, for instance, from an independent news agency in Belgrade, wrote afterwards that much depends on a `true exchange of experience' between East and West. `Now that the [Berlin] Wall is physically gone, such an exchange could help dissolve the walls in our mindset. The Forum did precisely that.'