Political Travel 

Ever since the end of World War II, Europe has developed into a remarkable peaceful continent … with some horrific exceptions of course, including the violent break-up of Yugoslavia, or Putin’s continuing attacks on Ukraine. Yet, there are numerous places where politics – civil unrest, ethnic tensions, a lack on international recognition, or an illegal occupation - continue to hang like a Damocles sword over the lives of ordinary citizens. Of course, visitors to such places will also encounter historical monuments, beautiful landscapes or attractive cities and villages. But an occasionally overbearing sense of politics and history seems never far away.

 

The 30-year long civil war in Northern Ireland came to a halt with the signing of the Good Friday Agreement in 1998, but so-called ‘peace walls’ that were erected to separate Protestant and Catholic communities serve as visible reminders of ‘The Troubles’. And in the Basque regions of Spain and Portugal, the militant separatist organisation ETA finally lay down their weapons as late as 2017. The former Yugoslav province of Kosovo declared its independence from Serbia in 2008, yet so far recognition by the international community and a peaceful coexistence of the Albanian and Serbian peoples has yet to arrive. I have visited these places on several occasions, but never long enough to gain an understanding of the deeper fabric that make these places tick. They’re on the list though …

 

But I did manage to spend some time in other political hotspots. There are the Baltic states of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, who were occupied by the Soviet Union in 1944 and only gained independence with the collapse of communism in Europe. Those countries now form Nato’s eastern frontline, with Putin’s aggressive autocracy just across the border, and with many ethnic Russians still living on their domestic territories. There is also Europe’s longest running conflict in Cyprus, ever since the Turkish invasion of the island in 1974 resulted in the division of this compact Mediterranean island. And the break-up of Yugoslavia caused hardship to many of its former constituent republics: in North Macedonia, in Croatia, but most notably in Bosnia & Herzegovina where an atrocious civil war was ended by effectively separating the different ethnicities from one another, who to this day struggle to establish a functioning political set-up.

So, is this ‘misery tourism’; the visiting of places affected human tragedy and suffering? When travelling to the downtrodden city of Narwa on the Estonian/Russian border, or to the genocide memorial in Srebrenica, or to the abandoned town of Varosha in Cyprus, one cannot escape the often brutal legacy of history. But such visits might also serve as a reminder of what is at stake within our contemporary combustible political climate. Not just prosperity, but even democracy, freedom, or security. One of the fundamental reasons for travelling is the broadening of horizons, which in turn might lead us to re-evaluate our own existence. And travelling to such contested places might just prompt some visitors to realise that their lives has been blessed by fortunate stability, but whose assets nonetheless ought not to be taken for granted.

 

But what about geopolitics, you might ask. Should I visit a country that had received a massive financial boost from a middle eastern regime with a questionable human rights record? And by visiting a contested territory that had been illegally occupied, am I not re-affirming the precise illegality of that act? If you are gambling away in a casino or staying in a hotel chain owned by business magnates with links to despotic regimes, then it would be hard to defy such accusations. On the other hands though, an independent traveller first and foremost interacts with fellow human beings, not regimes or governments. A vital distinction which seems to have been lost on many in recent times. But even if this sounds a tad too theoretical and philosophical, consider the economic rationale for many locals, whose livelihoods - in the absence of other alternatives - might just depend on the income that tourism provides. Oftentimes, buying a cup of coffee does not represent a political act of recognising a disputed regime. It merely supports some local business, which might just try to provide a living.