What do you mean "last field studies?"

After weeks upon weeks of lectures with lawyers, explorations of police agencies, and solemn visits to synagogues, we met for the last field studies this morning. I cannot believe how fast this semester has gone. I distinctly remember getting dressed the morning of our first field studies. I remember filing into that little room in the embassy building. I remember Alex mentioning that he's Greek right in the middle of my question to Jay Truesdale. How can it already be the end? Especially when I don't want it to be...

For our very last trip, we visited the Holocaust Memorial Center. Unlike most other memorials, this center is funded by the Hungarian government. It is also purposely located outside of the Jewish quarter. The basic idea of these two aspects is that the Holocaust is not only a dark spot in Jewish history, but also in the entire nation's collective history. The idea is such a simple, seemingly-obvious one, but I have not seen it applied anywhere else except for in this Memorial Center. The building is beautifully understated from the outside. The inside, though, gives off the much darker side of things. The exhibit is not laid out as most Holocaust exhibits are, in chronological order. Instead, visitors walk through the "spiral of deprivation." It begins in 1938 with the initial deprivation of civil rights. The deprivation of property soon follows, then freedom, then dignity, and finally, existence. We have all visited a few Holocaust memorials and read various texts from that era for this semester's classes, but the topic has never been presented this way. It sheds new light on the subject, bringing the horror back into stark focus.

Visitors to the exhibit walk to an ominous soundtrack - the echo of moving vehicles in one room, the stomping of soldier's boots in another. At one point, I was so focused on reading a picture's paragraph-long caption that I didn't notice at first. Before my mind could even comprehend that it wasn't real, my heart sped up in fear. (I should probably also explain that Nell and I watched Children of Glory for Agnes' class last night - a movie documenting both the bloodiest water polo match and the 1956 Revolution. Courtney knocked on our door at one point, and I hesitated for about five minutes before she yelled "Let me in, it's cold out!") For a split second, there was just terror, no rationale, no reasoning. I knew it wasn't the Arrow Cross or the AVO stomping their way down the hall. I knew I was safe, I knew I was in no danger. This

knowledge doesn't simultaneously coincide with that gut-reaction, though. It's human instinct - there's fear first, and your voice kicks in later. I cannot imagine having that brief flood of fear last more than a few seconds. It did, though, for an entire nation. First with the Arrow Cross Party, then with the AVO and AVH. It's a feeling that I would never want to relive, not even for a few more seconds...

A series of white horizontal lines run along the museum's stark black walls. As the exhibit

progresses, one line in the collection will suddenly end while the rest continue. A few feet later, another ends abruptly. By the end, the walls only bear about five white lines. I had thought that this represented the gradual deprivation of rights. Little by little, the Jews, Roma, and other persecuted peoples had a bit more taken away from them. After looking over the website, though, I find it has a different meaning. Each line is meant to represent an individual life that was presented in the first room. By the end, most of them are gone - their lives taken by the atrocities.

I was incredibly moved and intrigued by the Memorial Center. I thought my visit to Auschwitz had taught me most everything, but I was wrong again. There were stories, photographs, memories there that I had never come across. The synagogue at the end was the most perfect finale. The exhibit is closed in with black marble walls and dim lighting, opening up into the gorgeously light synagogue. The domed ceiling lets you breathe for the first time in nearly an hour - a deep, heavy breathe that exhales all the darkness you just trudged through. Rows of glass benches reflect the light - benches marked with the names of victims who could have been sitting right there, had the Holocaust not stolen them away.

I'm not sure if it was just the bittersweet finality of this field study, or the incredible weight of the things we saw, but this was one of my favorite field studies. I held back on most of the tour, with the feeling that the words and photographs deserved much more attention than our guide was allowing them. By the end, I was pretty much on a tour of my own, constantly trying to catch up with the rest. But I didn't mind - sometimes, I just have to teach myself.

Budapest Great Synagogue

As the semester is winding down, the last few field studies have allowed us to explore bits of Budapest that we haven't ventured to yet. This past Wednesday, we visited the Dohány Synagogue in the Jewish quarter. The synagogue is an enormous display of Byzantine-Moorish style architecture. Two identical dome-topped spires are meant to symbolize the two columns of Solomon's Temple. The synagogue is the largest in Europe, and the second-largest working synagogue in the world. It was built in the mid-1800's and has born witness to much of Hungary's tumultuous history. (Like those in Parliament, Dohány stained glass windows were taken from their panes and hidden to protect from Soviet and Hungarian bullets.)

During WWII, a ghetto was established in the Jewish quarter. In essence, it was a waiting room - meant to round up the Jews before deporting them. Many found refuge in the Dohány, but the harsh winter of 1944 took many victims. Bodies were discarded in the synagogue's courtyard. Under Jewish tradition, cemeteries and synagogue's are built a distance away from each other. The dead and the living need to be distinguished from each other. In the dire circumstances, though, the discarded bodies were buried directly next to the synagogue. Many traditions, both of Jews and other persecuted people, must be put aside in times of desperation and destruction.

The inside of the synagogue is astounding. It seats about 3,000 people, so the sheer size

made me feel absolutely insignificant. Light from the rows of small chandeliers cast a glow on

the rows upon rows of pews. The Star of David is hidden among the architecture, in the stained glass windows, on the ceiling. The inside resembles more of a church than a synagogue. The pews are set up in rows, facing a pulpit at the front, instead of gathered around in a circle. An organ decorates the main wall - with an interesting history. Saturdays, or Shabbat, are a day of rest, according to Judaism. Jews are not meant to work on Shabbat. Ordinarily, I wouldn't consider playing the organ to be work. In the Catholic church I attended as a kid, most of the organ players were volunteers. In Dohány, though, they have to bring someone to play the organ, someone who doesn't practice Judaism.

Somewhere in our travels, we heard about Kosher elevators. Since Jews are not meant to use electricity during Shabbat, they cannot press any buttons on an elevator. To get around it, there are (very few) Kosher elevators, which stop on every floor and eliminate the need to press any buttons. The use of an outsider for the organ is a similar set of circumstances. I've never been a very religious person - raised Catholic, now agnostic - but the entire topic of religion is incredibly intriguing. At times, religions seem like a relic, since all the holy writings and instructions date back hundreds or thousands of years. In a world centered around technological development, though, it sometimes seems that religion is constantly struggling to adjust. The holy scripts were written in a time so incredibly different from the present, and there is really no way to rework them with changing times. Perhaps similarly, law has a tough time keeping up with technology as well. In contrast, though, laws can be discussed, revised, updated (slowly...). It's a realization that hadn't struck me until I walked through the synagogue's aisles.

We also visited the connecting Jewish museum on our trip. A guide took us through a collection of incredibly old Torahs, scrolls, menorahs, and other objects used by Jews in their religious practices. The last room commemorated all that the Jews endured during the Holocaust. I figured that, after visiting Auschwitz and Birkenau, nothing could phase me anymore. I couldn't have been more wrong. One case displayed a black and white dress, and three round objects made from paper. Our guide explained that not only did the Nazis terrorize individuals, but they objectified sacred objects of Judaism. They confiscated Jewish prayer

shawls, cut them into patterns, and sewed them into dresses. The crumpled papers are torn-out pages of the Torah, used to line drums. The next display case held an even more sickening "ware - a single bar of soap, once white but now mottled. It's made from human fat. Our guide also informed us that the Nazis stretched skin to make lampshades. The ideas disgusted me, as they would to most humane people. I will never be able to wrap my head around the events that this place has seen. I will never be able to understand how one tangle of people can rule over another, how they can put their lives so high and put others so low. I will never be able to imagine how the world, how Jesus or God or Allah, how fate allowed these people to be herded from their homes and into chambers that destroyed them. I will never be able to understand how a heart can hold that much hate. Seems like it would just shatter after the first victim, and disappear after the following thousands. I will never be able to understand that these events weren't fiction. It will always feel like some elaborate story, no matter how much I tell myself it was real.

Places like this, though, will help. The further away these events disappear into the past, the more little pieces will be forgotten. The one who does not remember history is bound to live through it again, I remember the sign at Auschwitz. If we do begin to forget, we'll only be fated to replay the morbid scenes. Maybe not in ten years, but maybe a hundred. It's places like Dohány - and the steel willow memorial, the cemetery beside it, the ragged dress and the mottled soap - that remind us of what we cannot bear to forget. It's places like this that will save us.

Parliament! (Finally.)

After a long semester of discussing legal and government systems foreign to the JSBP'ers, we finally saw a bit of our knowledge in action. We paid a visit to Parliament yesterday - a building that we've all stood in the shadows of, but haven't ventured past the gates or guards to explore. The building itself is breathtaking. When venturing over the Chain Bridge at night, it exudes prominence and power among the landscape of city lights. From the inside, the wonder is just the same. The vaulted ceilings are painted with scenes from Hungary's tumultuous history. The arches are outlined in gold, catching the light that pours in from the towering windows. The stained glass mosaics are a story in themselves - saved from complete destruction by being removed from their panes and stored in the basement during wartime. It's easy to get a little awestruck in a place like this.

The building itself is a story. After an international competition proposing different architectural plans, Imre Steindl's winning bid began construction in 1885. The building boasts "ten courtyards, thirteen elevators, and twenty-seven gates." The tallest point of the building is 96 meters - marking Hungary's inception, 1896. The number proves to repeat itself within other elements, like the 96 stairs leading up to the building's front. During the tour, we saw the

Holy Crown of Hungary. (The U.S. government website has a fantastic article on their role in returning the crown after WWII.) We were also able to sit in a balcony overlooking a session of Parliamentary proceedings. It was pretty empty, understandably so since the official proceedings take place on Mondays and Tuesdays and the overflow is taken care of on Wednesdays. Most of the officials, though, seemed more like they were sitting in on a dull college lecture than seated in Parliament. One woman remained on her cell phone the entire time, only pausing to hail down a man for a glass of water. Another man had pages of notes out, and was furiously typing on his laptop. Judging from the lack of attention he paid to the speaker, though, I got the feeling he was catching up on paperwork instead of being invested in the session. It struck me as odd, until I realized I witness the same scene back home every time I flip the channel past meetings of Congress or the Senate. There are rare events or topics that garner intense media attention in governments, local or international. The monotony of everyday dealings is bound to result in such apathy, even by those that chose this line of work. Sure, there are days when you can be debating the investment of your nation's troops in a foreign war - where those from one side are on their feet, literally spitting words across the room at their opposers. Most days, though, probably resemble this. It is absolutely necessary to secure the progress and stability of a country, of course - but you don't really want to sit through it.

As the semester is nearing an end, the trip has an almost bittersweet tinge. It's such a monumental visit, we've been referring to it all semester. (Even after it was moved from the day of Alex's 21st birthday.) True, it's a fantastic way to bring everything we've learned together. What better way to really take in the law and governance of a nation than to stand in it's Parliamentary halls? The visit has a more encompassing effect, though. For the past three months, we've lived an unbelievable life. We have walked the streets of a truly historic place -the same streets on which Nazi forces hauled away thousands of Jews from their homes; the same streets that students marched down fifty-five years ago, calling for their country back; the same streets that have been reduced to rubble time and again, only to be built back up again.

Some days - when all I've done is hurry to and from class and barricade myself in my little Benczur room to study - I forget where we are. This place has become so much like home that I no longer notice the things that make it so unbelievable - the same things that made my jaw drop when I first arrived. The visit to Parliament was not the most intriguing or riveting field study, at least not for me, but it did succeed in shaking some sense into me. Those Parliamentary ceilings we stood under and the floors we walked on have witnessed more than a century of history. I'm only here for four months, and I want to take in as much of this place that I can. I want to fold up every memory, memorize every little detail, and tuck them away for when I head home. We will never live in a place like this again, not altogether. All I want for our last few weeks is for us all to capture a bit more of Budapest. I know we're all going to miss it...

"We have only one enemy - the crime."

Yesterday, we had the opportunity to visit a pretty impressive organization within Budapest. The International Law Enforcement Academy (ILEA) is part of an organization headed by the United States, aimed at assisting and educating police services. ILEA is present in for different nations - Budapest, Hungary; Bangkok, Thailand; Gaborone, Botswana; and San Salvador, El Salvador. The academy in Budapest serves Central and Eastern Europe, as well as South Central Asia. ILEA's ultimate aim is to supply training to these regions, to draw them out of parts of their history that have held them back an provide the tools to propel them into the future.

With dual cooperation between the Hungarian and American governments, ILEA was founded in 1995. The facility we visited offers some pretty impressive programs. The LEED program, for example, is an eight-week course that brings together sixteen students per session. The students are picked from three different nations - sometimes nations with a conflicted past. This is such an innovative idea for Europe. Bringing together these young students - all aiming for a career within the justice field - could turn out to be an extremely effective peace tactic. The emerging generation comes together at this academy to become versed in safe, effective, just ways to address the law. National pride doesn't have to disappear, but perhaps the boundaries of borders may melt away a bit. Ideally, these students are returning to their nations and educating their peers about the same methods. It seems like this would create an overall lift in the legal systems throughout Europe, allowing them to move away from the perhaps corrupt roots that have plagued them in the past.

One of the speakers, Tibor Bene, has spent the past seventeen years working for the United States Embassy. Tibor began in the Peace Corps, until they were closed down in Hungary. As he said, every country with a McDonald's no longer requires a Peace Corps. Tibor went on to work for the Regional Inspector General's Office of USAID. He's been working for ILEA for the past seven years. Tibor first got into the field because of his own past. His grandfather was hanged, and his land was taken away from him. Tibor wanted to turn away from the past systems in Hungary, and take part in the construction of a better one. He mentioned that one of ILEA's aims was to address domestic violence within Europe. In the past, it's been difficult to get police to treat the issue with gravity. Old mindsets believed there was nothing wrong with a man using violence against his wife. For this reason, many officers did little or nothing to abusers. Within the Balkans especially, past rates of domestic violence have been well above Westernized nations. Within the past ten years - as this report from USAID illustrates - rates have steadily decreased. Tibor has witnessed a positive improvement in the system since ILEA was established. By working to gradually change the thinking, he said, the effects are lasting.

We also discussed the friction that sometimes occurs between different students who train at the Academy. Especially between countries with bloody, intertwined pasts, it can be extremely difficult to get students to cooperate. At this point in history, most of them are too young to fully understand what their animosity is even born from. They simply know that their parents or grandparents hated some other nation, so they must, too. The Academy brings together these embittered nations partly to foster more positive future relations. Sometimes, it works. Students disregard the past and unite in their common goal: justice. Other times, it doesn't work out so well. For the most part, though, ILEA has an additional purpose of acting as a peace-keeping organization.

We also had the privilege of hearing from ILEA's director within Budapest, John Terpinas. I really enjoyed what Terpinas had to say - especially when he unexpectedly used the pronoun "she" when describing agents. (Feminist Grace.) His education of ILEA soon melted into an encouragement to follow whatever path in life that interests you - not get stuck in a rut, thinking this is where we're supposed to be headed. I really appreciated Terpinas' honesty and candidness. The entire visit was definitely one of the most interesting field studies trips we have taken so far, and I'm really looking forward to some more along these lines.

The EU: "Either float or sink together"

After hiatus adventures in Greece, Egypt, Italy, and the rest of Europe, the JSBP hooligans settled back into school with a lecture on the European Union. Mr. Andras Baneth, a Hungarian native currently living in Belgium, works for the European Commission. He walked us through the strengths and weaknesses of the Union - a conversation that ended up, as Mr. Baneth said, "pretty gloomy."

The EU is an international organization, comparable to the United Nations, where governments cooperate on an equal footing. It also acts as a sort of United States of Europe, where multiple nations are organized under one entity. The organization doesn't interfere with language or culture of each individual member-state, but facilitates economic ties within European nations. The basis of EU integration lies in trust, as Mr. Baneth pointed out. It was born from the ashes of World War II, in order to discourage future conflicts and encourage the sense of unity.

The EU's inception began by coordinating the European cold and steel industries. Making France and Germany interdependent in the fields that produce war materials would create, for the first time, a real hesitancy of war. Both nations would have capital invested in the other - to go to war would be a sort of economic suicide. Even putting the two age-old enemies aside, other nations would be more likely to cooperate. The relative free-flow of travel within the EU allows for an increase in tourism, which lets cities flourish. Bad blood between nations would stave off that flow, and choke the tide of tourism. To enter into conflict with another nation would be to risk the economic ties invested - might as well go to war within your own country.

Since the Berlin Wall came down, there have been no wars between the member-states. As Baneth said, "the history of Europe is the history of wars." In a region where factions have been warring for centuries, it's an enormous accomplishment to have relative peace for the past twenty years. I was incredibly intrigued by this statistic. Despite the economic gamble, I would hypothesize that some nations would still risk going to war. We have been taught in our history class about the intense boundary struggle Hungary and the surrounding nations have endured for centuries. Hungarians and Slovakians are notoriously bitter towards each other. We have only learned about a small piece of Europe's puzzle, and we can already understand why there is still such tension between nations. To appeal to each nation's individual goals and concerns, to coordinate these factions with such bloody histories - it's such a monumental accomplishment.

The European Union isn't all positive, though. They have been heavily criticized for the implementation of a shared currency. In theory, the euro is ingenious. Trade between nations would be even easier, because one euro in Greece carries the same weight as one euro in France. Nothing gets lost in translation. In reality, however, it has created an enormous economic crisis. During my hiatus trip to Greece, Nell and I discussed the nation's current state with many locals. One taxi driver explained that once the euro was introduced, everyone began to struggle. He held up a water bottle - "On Sunday, this was 87 drachma. One day later, with the euro, it was 193 drachma." I cannot imagine suddenly changing our entire monetary system - suddenly paying double for everyday necessities. As a student, there is no doubt that I would be unable to sustain the same lifestyle, let alone keep my head above water. I can see where the agitation, where the fury, where the unrest in Greece comes from. Most of the people we met work two jobs just to keep up. It's an unsustainable system, if you want your people to flourish. I was extremely intrigued when Baneth mentioned that Greece cheated its way into the European Union. They falsified documents in order to meet the requirements to become a member-state. This seems like such a foolish mistake. Initially, Greece benefited from the lie. They were able to begin making trade ties with other EU nations, boosting their economy. In the long-term, though, the requirements were put in place for a reason. Nations need to be stable enough to equally participate in these relationships. Their economies need to be stable enough to support the change to the euro. By falsifying documents, Greece is responsible for their own downfall. The self-made crisis is pulling other nations down now. Germany has trade and bank capital invested in Greece - to let them fail would be to fail themselves. That's an enormous downfall of the European Union. Like Baneth said, it's both a blessing and a curse "to be in the same boat: you either float together or you sink together."
I honestly enjoyed Baneth's lecture - I would be interested to see what his PowerPoint contained. He adapted well to the loss of technology, though, and really engaged us by allowing for questions. To learn more about the European Union's history and get a quick overview of it's goals and future, visit the BBC News' page.

JSBP Invades Geneva

This week, the usual Wednesday field excursion was replaced by a three-day adventure. The JSBP hooligans boarded a plane destined for Geneva - second largest city in Switzerland, home to the United Nations, and famed for its chocolate. In between wandering the cobblestone streets, casually hopping the border to France, and hitting up a Swiss flea market, we actually did some learning.

On Wednesday, we were lucky to hear from some pretty influential people working within the United Nations. The first series of lectures was hosted by the United Nations Environmental Program (UNEP) - a program that we had a bit of background information on, thanks to an article by Maria Ivanova. (We were even on the official schedule! I know, I'm kind of a big dork to be excited.) Barbara Ruis, a Netherlands native who acts as a legal law officer within UNEP's regional office, kicked off the lecture with a brief introduction. Angela Cropper, who I found to be most intriguing, followed. Cropper is the Deputy Executive Director of UNEP - the second in command. She spoke a bit about the history of UNEP, and then shifted focus to the Rio+20 Summit.

I feel a bit ignorant for not knowing much about the summit. Set twenty years after the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development, Rio+20 aims to "secure renewed political commitment for sustainable development." Cropper mentioned that the summit's themes are aimed at sustainable development as well as poverty eradication. Initially, I thought this was an unusually lofty goal. Combining two of the most extreme, pressing issues of our time might not actually accomplish anything. The more I thought, though, the more the two topics seemed to merge. The world has not had success with it's previous methods - both for preserving the integrity of the environment and eradicating poverty. Some foods are imported because of cheaper labor in other nations. The process exploits the desperation of farmers in developing nations while ignoring the plight of local farmers. Even in some aid programs meant to assist the impoverished, food is packed up here and sent abroad. This not only wastes enormous amounts of money in shipping costs, but also releases unnecessary

harmful emissions into the air from transportation efforts. It also doesn't create a sustainable system. Local farmers in these impoverished places are available to sell their crops, while food is being sent from halfway across the world. The more environmentally and socially sustainable system would be to contribute money to a cause that buys local produce for impoverished families. I'm certain that this issue will be thoroughly dissected during the Rio+20 Summit next June.

The next speaker, Mijke Hertoghs, has been with UNEP for the past 11 years. She has been the Regional Coordinator for Chemical Conventions for the past two years. Hertoghs was a very sociable speaker, and immediately connected with us by asking how many cell phones we've gone through over the years. In developing countries, some people dissect all those old phones and computers in order to remove extremely hazardous but valuable chemicals. Hertoghs briefly touched on the Rotterdam Convention, a treaty addressing the importation of such hazardous materials. She mentioned that in some instances, the elimination of certain chemicals is best. In fact, there are many chemicals banned in developed, industrialized nations but still perfectly legal in developing countries. The lack of education about such chemicals oftentimes leads to accidents. In the end, Hertoghs mentioned, it's the internalization of costs that prevents nations from banning certain substances. If it brings in a profit, there is less of an incentive to cease the process - despite the harmful effects on its citizens and environment. She summed the constant battle of industry against the environment when she said that "in the end, it's money that matters."

The last speaker during the conference, Eva Duer, is a legal officer and works on knowledge management within UNEP. Duer introduced us to a database called InforMEA, which is directed by the UN and is a useful tool in understanding the collection of treaties directed towards the environment. I wish we had gotten to hear a bit more from Duer, but I was truly impressed with all of our speakers. (I was especially impressed that all four speakers were women! I've been waiting all semester to hear from some strong, intelligent,

prominent women within the government. Good job, UNEP, for employing such great minds.)

After a short break, we also had the honor of visiting the United Nations Refugee Agency (UNHCR). Initially, I was entirely enthusiastic about this opportunity. The topic falls a bit more under my anthropology major, which I've missed discussing this past semester. Mr. Semih Bulbul, senior desk officer for the Iraq support unit, was generous enough to give us a few hours of his time. Bulbul began by outlining the UNHCR mandate, which states that the agency provides international protection to refugees and other persons of concern. As well as safeguarding their rights, UNHCR provides refugees with shelter, food, and education. Their goal is ultimately, to seek durable solutions. Bulbul defined a refugee as "a person outside his or her country because of well-founded fear of persecution due to his or her political opinion, religion, race, ethnic origin, or social group." The rest of the lecture was disappointing. Bulbul is clearly an intelligent man, and I would have appreciated a more open forum (I know, I'm saying I would have liked to ask more questions in public. This is a first.) Bulbul seemed like he simply enjoyed having us as a captive audience.

In the end, I learned more from reading the information posted throughout the room than from Bulbul himself. I learned about the waste - both of firewood and labor - expended on different types of ovens. Lots of ovens consist of heating three rocks until they're hot enough to cook on. This uses up the most firewood, and is therefore least ecologically-friendly. A "Wonderbox" oven, on the other hand, uses thermal energy - using up a fraction of the firewood to cook food even faster. A few years ago, I helped build solar ovens for rural families in Costa Rica, and I would have really enjoyed discussing this with Bulbul. In the end, though, I left the lecture knowing more than when I walked in, so I can't complain that much.

In the end, Geneva chased us back to Hungary with driving rains. It was definitely an educational adventure for the JSBP, but I think we were all ready to get back to the place we now call home. Missed you, Budapest. For those of you back home - okay, for my mom - you can learn more about Geneva's history through this website, which has the straight facts. If you want to learn more about the chocolate, cheese, and pretty pictures, visit the Lonely Planet website!

Law Talk, Round Two

This past Wednesday, we had the opportunity to sit down with a pretty major figure in the government game. The former head of Hungary's National Disaster Management, Attila Nyikos, was willing to put up with our questions for a few hours. The National Disaster Management is comparable to America's FEMA - both perhaps with a bit of a tarnished history. According to Nyikos, this department has one crucial difference from FEMA. Back home, firefighters are a local sector. Each city or collection of towns has a fire department. Here,

firefighters are part of a centralized body. They work and act under the federal government, meaning that there are civil and fire protection activities incorporated into the National Disaster Management. Nyikos also outlined the major responsibilities in a flow-chart: prevention, recovery, and response. All three are tied together, and help the department learn from their past successes and failures. As Nyikos said, "Man is always planning and God is always deciding."

The department typically deals with the preparation for and damage resulting from natural disasters. Hungary is susceptible to frequent floods from inland waters. There is also an outstanding danger of freshwater pollution, as well as possible disasters from the pressure of geological fault lines. In the past decade, Hungary has had to address cyanide pollution in the Tisza River, a dyke breach and subsequent flood of the land along the Tisza River, and major fires resulting from extreme heat. The department does not only address natural disasters, but sometimes assists with social and political issues. They once helped in the evacuation of 9,000 citizens from Tripoli, Libya during a time of political unrest. Nyikos job must have been ever-evolving.

The topic of red sludge was inevitably raised as well. Nyikos was able to offer some new information on the topic, which I was surprised about considering the amount of times we've discussed it with other guest speakers. As it turns out, the red sludge isn't what caused the chemical burns that injured so many in Kolontar. There is a thin layer of highly alkaline water, referred to as "technical water," that rests on top of the red sludge pool. I was surprised at this new piece of information, considering it was a fairly simple concept to understand and had not been mentioned in any of our previous field studies or readings. Nyikos went on to mention that the cause of the accident is "still unknown," and may be due to layers of causes - some human, some natural. He identified the main goal of workers in the post-disaster days: keep the sludge as close to the site as possible. This not only limits the amount of damage done to property, but also limits the human toll and even the evacuation efforts of nearby towns. Essentially, there are three steps to a disaster management effort. The first is to rescue and secure all lives. The second, to stabilize the situation. The third step involves recovery and reconstruction.

Nyikos was able to shed some light on the last step, something that we haven't been able to discuss too much. 300 houses had to be destroyed because of contamination. In the wake of the demolition, Hungary's best architects stepped forward and offered to work, without pay, on the reconstruction. The government offered victims three options: build a new house, buy yourself a different house within the county, or buy a flat in another part of Hungary. Most opted for the third option, which actually surprised me at first. I thought most would opt to stay, at least within the county. The more I contemplated it, though, the more it made sense. If red sludge came flooding through Portland and destroyed my entire house, I would be devastated. I've lived in the same house for my entire life and simply cannot imagine the pain and grief that would come with losing such an integral part of my childhood. Once the demolition crews haul away the wreckage, there would

only be an empty plot where my house once stood. I can imagine standing in the void, surrounded by hulking machines carrying away the damage. I can imagine looking down at my feet and seeing the land still stained red, and wondering if the color could ever be washed from the ground. I can imagine seeing my entire history carried away with the broken boards and shards of glass, and knowing that - even built back up - nothing would be the same. And like most of the Hungarians, I can imagine wanting to get as far away from the memory as possible.

Overall, I enjoyed this past field study. At times, Nyikos showed a clear bias on behalf of his department. He seemed to shuffle most of the blame onto the company, and absolve government inspectors for their oversights. He even mentioned that an inspector did a routine check the morning of the disaster - something he saw as an indication this was all an unstoppable accident. I, however, viewed it as a spot on the government's record. Clearly the inspector did not do a sufficient check, considering there were stress fractures present on the concrete pool walls. Despite his leanings, though, I did consider Nyikos to be an intelligent speaker and enjoyed his lecture.