Peace and Conflict Studies, Up Close and Personal

On Saturday, by chance, Krista and I found ourselves sitting next to a Rotary World Peace scholar on our train ride back to Coventry. The Nigerian man (I'm afraid I've forgotten his
name already), about my age, had noticed my convention badge and we struck up a conversation. He had completed his first year of studies in the Peace and Conflict Resolution program at Berkley. Yesterday he had been part of a presentation had the World Peace Symposium that preceded the convention.

We began talking about the Berkley program, which I had heard was being discontinued. He said the program was a collection of international studies courses that, although not having been designed specifically for the RI program, were valuable experiences.

As the train neared Coventry, our discussion turned toward his thoughts on the prospects for peace in the world. He strongly advocated intervention in potential conflicts between nations and within them before violence broke out or human rights abuses occurred. The conductor's voice came over the loudspeaker to announce our imminent arrival at Conventry. Some of the passengers stood and began to shuffle toward the ends of the coach and the train slowed. I questioned the scholar about who in the world could best judge when such intervention was necessary, and in what form, diplomatically or militarily.

As he began to answer, a shout erupted from the front of the coach. "My friend, please!" shouted a tall African man at a young Englishman in front of him. "My friend!" he repeated. "Please! Let me pass!" He tried to wedge himself past the shorter man who was standing between him and his companions near the coach's doors.

"Wait!" screamed the shorter man, and shoved the tall African man against the seats
behind him.

"My friend, please!" shouted the African man again, frantically. I could see he was afraid of missing his chance to exit the train. Now he used his hands to push against the seats and force his way past the young Englishman.

The young Englishman tore his earphones out of his ears, and the skin on his shaved head flushed red in anger. "What're you playin' at, you knobhead?" he shouted. "Huh? What're you playin' at?"

The tall African man's nostrils flared and he said vehemently, "My friend! Please! I must pass!" He has passed, I thought. What is he saying? Maybe all the English he words he can muster, I thought.

"You knobhead. I was tellin' you to wait. I'm tryin' to get my kid out of his seat, here!" The Englishman and the African man were locked in an intense stare.

The rest of the coach's passengers sat silently, eyes fixed on the pair. I wasn't sure whether this was the end of the incident or just the beginning. I looked at Krista, and then at the Nigerian scholar across the aisle from me. Both of them had the same look on their faces that I'm sure I did - a look of uncertainty. Should someone step between them? Should I step between them? No, they'll cool it. Or will they?

It did end there. The conductor had called the stop too early, and the train continued rolling along slowly, silently, into Coventry station. The Nigerian across the aisle and I smiled an uneasy smile at each other. We had just witnessed a communication breakdown that very quickly became a confrontation. Something told me these sudden occurrences are something even Berkley doesn't prepare you for.