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.