Author: minna

In this piece, Anil Biçer, a European Solidarity Corps volunteer working in Maailmanvaihto’s office team, reflects on how peacebuilding is present in all the small moments of everyday life.

I still remember the first time I shared a sauna in Finland, with other international volunteers who grew up thousands of kilometers away from me. We didn’t share the same language, habits, or ideas. But we shared our moment, awkward smiles, and a lot of hand gestures. At some point, I realized something simple but powerful: peace doesn’t always start with big decisions or official agreements. Sometimes, it starts with listening, with patience, and with choosing curiosity over judgment.

Volunteering is a slow, everyday process of peace-building, where stereotypes fade, trust grows, and the invisible lines between “us” and “them” quietly disappear. Peace doesn’t always come with big words. Sometimes, it arrives quietly, over tea, shared laughter, awkward hand gestures, and in a Finnish sauna 🙂

When we hear the word “peace”, we often think about the absence of war. But in everyday life, peace is much more than that. It’s not just about what doesn’t happen. Peace is a verb, not a noun. It is the active presence of understanding, not just the absence of conflict. It’s about how we treat each other, how we listen, and how willing we are to question what we think we know. At the local level, peace is built in small, almost invisible moments. It happens when someone chooses to ask instead of assuming. When people from different backgrounds share a space without fear. When stereotypes slowly lose their power because real human stories replace them. Peace-building is the process of unlearning the “us versus them” mindset. Volunteering plays a huge role in this. It creates spaces where people don’t meet as labels, but as individuals. And once you’ve shared a meal, a task, or a laugh with someone, it becomes much harder to see them as “other.”

If peace had a main ingredient, it would probably be “dialogue”. Not the kind you see in conferences or official panels, but the everyday kind: conversations while cooking together, walking to the bus stop, or trying to explain a joke that doesn’t translate well. One of the funniest things about intercultural volunteering is that communication doesn’t always depend on words. Sometimes, it’s about facial expressions, hand gestures, drawings on papers, or just laughing at the confusion. And somehow, those moments often feel more honest than perfectly structured conversations. You learn that understanding doesn’t always need grammar, it needs attention. These small interactions slowly build more than just teamwork; they build understanding. You stop being “the Turkish volunteer”. You start being a person with different skills, habits, and stories to share. You become “The Excel Master” as in my case. Intercultural learning teaches us that differences are not problems to solve, they are experiences to explore. When we stop trying to compare whose way is “better” and start asking “why,” something shifts. Curiosity replaces fear. Dialogue replaces judgment. And that’s how peace quietly grows, one awkward but sincere conversation at a time.

“Peace-building is the process of unlearning the ‘us versus them’ mindset.”

Volunteering is often described as “helping,” but that word can be misleading. Real volunteering is not about being a hero or saving anyone. It’s about standing next to people, not above them. It’s about recognizing that some voices are heard louder than others and choosing to listen more carefully to those that are often ignored. Working with disadvantaged groups, such as people with disabilities, migrants, or refugees, teaches you something very important: inequality is not random. It is built into systems, habits, and assumptions that we rarely question. Volunteering opens your eyes to these invisible walls. You start noticing who gets access easily, who has to fight for basic rights, and who is constantly asked to “prove” their worth. From a global perspective, peace cannot exist without justice. If some lives are valued more than others, that’s not peace. That’s imbalance. Volunteering, when done respectfully, supports global justice by creating spaces of dignity, not dependency. It’s not about “giving,” but about sharing space, power, and voice. Volunteering doesn’t change the world. It changes how you see it. And once you see the world this way, it becomes impossible to unsee it.

One of the most unexpected parts of volunteering is how much it changes you. Most people start with the idea that they will contribute, support, or teach something. But somewhere along the way, the roles quietly shift. You start learning more than you ever planned to. You learn patience when things don’t go as expected. You learn empathy when someone’s story doesn’t fit into your assumptions. You learn to be okay with not having all the answers. And slowly, without noticing, you become more confident. Not because you’re “better,” but because you understand more. This is where the idea of global citizenship becomes real. Not as a fancy title, but as a mindset. You stop seeing global issues as something distant or abstract. Personally, I started seeing the world differently. Global issues like climate, inequality, migration, and access to education suddenly had faces, names, and voices for me. Volunteering teaches you that the world is not divided into “my problems” and “their problems.” It’s shared. And once you feel that, you don’t just want to observe anymore. You want to participate. You want to take responsibility. Not perfectly, but honestly. That’s how peace starts inside a person. I’ve learned that peace doesn’t just happen around me, it begins with me.

Finally, peace doesn’t arrive all at once. It is stitched together from small, everyday actions: listening instead of judging, showing up instead of turning away, choosing curiosity over comfort. Every volunteer adds a new piece to this growing patchwork; imperfect, colorful, and full of stories. You don’t need to change the whole world to be part of peace-building. You just need to start somewhere. With one conversation. One shared moment. One brave step outside your bubble. Maybe it’s volunteering. If you’ve ever wondered what volunteering really feels like, take a step. And who knows? That small step might end up changing more than you ever expected. It might not change the world, but you’ll see it differently, just like I do.

Text and photos: Anil Bicer

The story has been published in the magazine MaailmanVaihtoa – Volunteers’ Voices 1/2026: peace through international volunteering.

It has happened to me many times that during extracurricular activities, roundtable discussions, or even simple conversation clubs, I hesitated to voice my thoughts. I worried that the person in front of me might think completely differently, or judge me for it. Have you ever felt the same?

I’ll be honest: I am a conflict-avoider. If a conversation feels like it might turn into an argument, or even mild tension, I often pull back. I listen. I try to understand. But I stay quiet, afraid that being different might also mean not being accepted. For a long time, I thought this was simply okay. But over time, especially through international experiences, I began noticing how many of us carry the same hesitation, and how much we lose when silence replaces real dialogue.

It wasn’t until I found myself in spaces where disagreement was not avoided, but held with care, that I realized something was missing from the way I understood communication. This was my first encounter with what is called constructive dialogue. During the year I spent with the Maailmanvaihto – ICYE office, I slowly began to notice that conversations there felt different. Meetings, reflections, even challenging discussions carried a sense of calm and safety that I hadn’t often experienced before. One of the things I came to appreciate most were their safer space guidelines. They weren’t just words on paper. They shaped how people listened and how they responded, encouraging respect, active listening, and a genuine chance to be heard. Everyone was reminded that their voice mattered, and that openness and care were not optional.

These same principles were carried into the camps. Through sessions on everything from environmental issues to mental health and global challenges, I watched volunteers slowly open up. People who were quiet on the first day began to share, not only to express themselves, but also to learn from one another. Because how else do we really grow, if not by listening to perspectives different from our own?

I remember one particular moment that stayed with me. We were sitting together, talking about environmental issues, when the conversation slowly turned toward climate anxiety. Not policies. Not statistics. But how the climate crisis actually makes us feel. Some people spoke about fear, others about guilt, exhaustion, or helplessness. There was no rush to respond, no pressure to fix what someone else was feeling. Just a shared space to be vulnerable, and people who listened. What stayed with me was how naturally everyone’s emotions were treated as valid. We didn’t always agree. But we could express our perspectives without that familiar tension about where the conversation might go.

Moments like this made me realize that constructive dialogue is not about reaching agreement. It is about staying in conversation, and choosing understanding even when it feels uncomfortable. It is a shared effort, approaching others’ perspectives with openness, while trusting that they are doing the same with yours. And ultimately, it is about creating spaces where people feel safe enough to show up as they are.

“There was no rush to respond, no pressure to fix what someone else was feeling. Just a shared space to be vulnerable, and people who listened. What stayed with me was how naturally everyone’s emotions were treated as valid. We didn’t always agree. But we could express our perspectives without that familiar tension about where the conversation might go.”

What makes Maailmanvaihto’s camps especially meaningful is that they do not exist in isolation. They prepare volunteers for what comes next, for living, working, and building relationships in unfamiliar environments, where misunderstandings, differences, and difficult conversations are inevitable. In a world where much of our communication happens through screens, real, face-to-face dialogue is slowly becoming a lost skill. We scroll, react, and comment, but we rarely sit together, listen deeply, and express ourselves in the presence of others. Over time, this creates distance. And often, silence.

Camps offer something different. Through shared discussions, reflection circles, and guided sessions, volunteers practice being present. They practice listening to perspectives that challenge their own. And they practice voicing their thoughts, even when it feels uncomfortable. In this way, camps become training grounds not only for volunteering, but for constructive dialogue itself.

I can’t say that I am suddenly great at expressing my opinions. But I carry something I didn’t before: awareness, intention, and the first small courage to stay in the conversation. The camps planted a seed, and like any real skill, it is still a work in progress. One I now try to nurture consciously, in conversations, in communities, and in everyday life.

Text: Dilbar Aliyeva
Photo: Maailmanvaihto’s album

About the photo: at camps, Maailmanvaihto aims at offering safer shared spaces for preparing for international volunteering and deepening learning through it.

The story has been published in MaailmanVaihtoa – Volunteers’ Voices 1/2026: peace through international volunteering.

The writer Dilbar Aliyeva volunteered in Maailmanvaihto’s office team through the European Solidarity Corps.