It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of Yulian Dragoslavov, a student on the MSc in International Political Economy 2019/20 in our department. He will be deeply missed by students and staff here in the Department of International Relations.
Below are some thoughts and tributes from his teachers and supervisors in the department:
“The news of Yulian’s passing has shocked and saddened all of us. His loss will be felt profoundly by his fellow students, his teachers, and Department staff. He was a gifted, bright student who was actively and fully engaged in scholarly debates in the Department, and was passionate about his studies. We have lost a rising star and we will miss him.”
Karen E. Smith, Head of Department
His mentor, Ellen Holtmaat, remembers him:
“I remember meeting Yulian for the first time in my office last autumn. Very kind, humble, intelligent, independent. I remember being surprised at that time he was still so young! Yet so wise. Our meetings over pizza with the mentor group. His contributions in class. I discussed his thesis ideas with him – evolving from the obsolescing bargain model to global value chain integration of Bulgaria. I remember talking to him a month ago via Zoom, his excitement about climbing in the mornings and working on the dissertation in the afternoon. That did sound wonderful.
He was such an amazingly smart person. Very ambitious – but balanced. Seeming to also make a priority of enjoying his time. Talking about the good times he’d have in Bulgaria. I was impressed by his intelligence and was hoping I’d be the one to read his final master’s thesis. Excited to read the findings of his research.
I wanted to be at peace with his passing, as he was doing something that he seemed to love. And maybe he is in a good place now and only came to light us up and not leave us filled with sadness. Yet, I find myself thinking of him and feeling overwhelmed, finding it so weird to meet someone, discuss his future, expecting to hear from the sidelines about his research and to stand at the start of his adult life.
I hope, I hope, there’ll be a spark of light for his parents, his siblings, his girlfriend, his family, friends and all the people close to him. – I can only imagine how dark it can be. I sincerely hope that the light that Yulian used to shine in their lives remains, even as his presence has taken on another form.”
Ellen Holtmaat, Fellow
His seminar teachers remember him:
“As a seminar leader, I remember Yulian not only as a gifted student with a sharp analytical mind, but also as a hard worker who was genuinely interested in his studies. Yulian knew a lot, but he was eager to learn more. He asked me to provide additional readings that he and the whole course could do in addition to the compulsory and recommended readings on the syllabus. It is very hard to believe that Yulian is not with us anymore. I am deeply touched by his passing and think of him with great respect and admiration.”
Benjamin Faude, Fellow
“Very sorry to hear the news. Yulian was very well liked by those he got to know in the IPE student and staff community at the LSE. He was clearly going to contribute a great deal to which ever field he entered, so we have all lost something. But this is of course nothing to the loss for his friends and family.”
Steve Woolcock, Associate Professor
“I was fortunate to have gotten to know Yulian well last term, and found him to be a genuinely kind person, and exceptionally bright too. It was a privilege to have him in my classroom. He was a joy to talk with, and will be sorely missed.”
Natalya Naqvi, Assistant Professor
We hope these memories of Yulian’s time at the LSE provide some small measure of comfort to his family and friends. Our hearts go out to them.
Please feel free to leave your condolences, thoughts and memories as comments below. (Please note comments are moderated so will not appear immediately).
Yulian was an incredible person that we have lost too soon. He kept us all sharp and alert in class with his intelligence and was kind and generous with his time when it came to helping us with the topics that he had already mastered. While doing a presentation together I realized that his drive was pure and un-arrogant; he was going to do great things in the world. While reflecting on my classmates earlier this year I had already realized that he would be one that I would watch from the sidelines while being able to proudly tell my friends “I know him” or “we studied together” while he would have undoubtedly changed the world for the better. This is a great loss to all who knew him. My condolences.
I knew Yulian in the last term. As everybody already said; he was smart, kind and an excellent person. I remember having class and really enjoying his contributions and thoughts about developing countries. He asks me a lot about Latin America issues and especially Chile, so we have very interesting and fruitful conversations. I remember him as a respectful and wise young person. My condolencies to the family and close friends.
I did not teach Yulian, but as a professor in the IR Department I would like to pass on my sincere condolences to his family and loved ones. The thoughts and prayers of all of us are with you at this very difficult and sad time.
I was deeply saddened when learnt about Yulian’s death. He was a down-to-earth, intelligent and kind person. During Economic Diplomacy seminars I was always observing Yulian’s contributions with great interest as they were novel and full of critical thinking. We were planning to prepare for the exams together. Unfortunately, we did not get the chance to carry out our plans because of the virus. It was a great privilege to know a person like Yulian. I express my sincere condolences to his family, relatives and friends. Our prayers are with you.
I feel very lucky to have known Yulian since the start of the academic year last September and to have shared classes and seminars with him. It is very rare to meet such a smart and analytical, yet, so down-to-earth and warm person. I’ll always remember him as surprisingly kind and a generous friend.
After many months under lockdown, I always felt sad about not being able to say goodbye to so many of my friends and classmates, but I kept hoping we’d be able to meet again in better circumstances. It is heart-breaking and shocking to know that the IPE group will no longer be complete again without Yulian. He will forever be missed.
My deepest condolences to his family and close friends.
Yuli, it’s hard to get past the denial of losing a friend. When I first heard the news I was convinced it must be a prank. I couldn’t imagine anyone more likely than you playing a joke on us all and subsequently popping up on the ‘Coronavirus Memes for Social Distancing Teens’ chat to announce your miraculous resurrection with a carefully selected mic-drop gif. Instead we’re left with a void to fill. No more pints in the George inbetween classes and tuesday lunches on the roof of the Student Centre. No parties in Mile End and invites to the Balkan Bash. No grossly offensive jokes in cards against humanity, no table tennis games at Grosvenor House and McDonald’s feasts in the middle of the night. You died doing what you loved and you’ve left us inspired with your zest for life, your refusal to take anything too seriously and taking each day as it comes. And just in case we didn’t get the message, in your final act, you’ve underscored how fleeting it all is. It’s a lesson I’ll never forget. Rest in Peace, Yuli.
I remember it like it was yesterday. My first day at LSE last September. A bit nervous, yet curious to meet my future classmates, I waited for Jeff’s introductory seminar. And there you were, smiling at me in your cheeky Yulian-way and immediately entangling me in a debate about the Economics profession. I only remember too well telling my girlfriend that night about that new friend of mine who I deemed was one of the brightest young men I have ever met. About how you were not only gifted with remarkable intelligence, but equally equipped with your very special kind of warmth and kindness. I remember how, in the first week of the term, the two of us went to buy some artsy posters to make our expensive-yet-shabby London rooms a bit more colourful – although you deemed the fake Hokusai wave drawing I chose a bit too basic. And the time we were meant to prepare our first debate for the Money course, but instead crying tears of laughter on some dull memes about Helicopter Ben (Bernanke). Because you had spent your undergraduate studies in the U.K. and I had not, you always gave me guidance on how to navigate the peculiarities of the British academic system, which helped me a great deal during the first term. I remember all the lunch breaks we spent together, at the Student Union terrace, Wasabi or pod, the latter of which – having always supplied us with delicious curry – disappeared at some point of the term, sparking immense disappointment in both of us. While ordinary lunch breaks might not seem like something one would remember longer than a week, with you involved there was always something special about it, every discussion always intellectually curious, always open-minded – and of course fabulously funny. Due to our almost matched schedule, we often sat in the same course – not paying enough attention to our professors but instead sharing the seemingly millions of new memes we had discovered over the weekend, and you often introducing me to new meme groups on Facebook, such as ‘Squatting Slavs in Tracksuits’ or ‘Scenic Depictions of Slavic Live’. I remember all the nights we spent going out together, for example, when we went to Brixton to attend the ‘Big Balkan Bash’ – a night you and Sushi were especially excited about (there was lots of Balkan music and grilled meat!). The countless and infamous home parties at your place in Mile End, where you introduced me and many others to the Rakia you had imported from Bulgaria. I remember that at times I experienced problems or worried about the future, you were there to comfort me and cheer me up with your remarkable lightness. You were one of a rare kind of people who always lived their life to the fullest, almost always enjoying what you did – something I have consistently looked up to.
One of the hardest memories is our forced and final goodbye in March which was never meant to be final, you hugging me, with the cheeky smile on your face. Then your invitations to come and visit you at the lake house in Bulgaria in summer. My plans to invite you over and show you the cool spots of Vienna. The prospect of both of us doing an internship in the same city after graduating. But also you telling me how much you were enjoying your quarantine time in Bulgaria, especially to now be able to spend so much time with your beloved Ella.
Yuli, I can’t put into words how much I miss you every day. But while I am still devastated with grief, I know that I should not. Yulian, you have not gone anywhere. You live on through us, your friends, and your family, your classmates, through all the people whose paths you have crossed, whom you have inspired with your ideas and critical thinking, whom you have helped out in difficult situations and to whose eyes you have so often brought tears of laughter – in short, whose lives you have changed forever. The only thing that remains to be said now is how immensely thankful I am to have been your friend, to have spent a small fraction of your life together with you, and that you will always be there with us, smiling cheekily and inspiring us.
I had a dream about you this night, it was so real and your hug was so warm and comforting- as always. I struggle to understand what has happened. I know and share your love for the mountains and climbing… but this?
You were something truly special Yuli. As if almost too magical for this earth, maybe that is why you had to leave. I try to find some peace with that thought because I think that all that magic cannot just disappear, maybe just dissipate. It lives on in all the people who have had the tremendous luck to cross your path, we can never forget about you.