Yasmina Blackburn's "My Reflections on Srebrenica" was such a perfect column that I had to break my blogging hiatus to post about it. This isn't a well thought-out, or probably even well articulated post, but I had so many things circulating through my brain that I needed an outlet. The vast majority of my undergraduate and graduate studies were focused on 20th century Balkan history, and as much as I try to drift away from the topic, I eventually find myself reviewing articles like this. All of my studies have led me to two personally significant conclusions that I'll save for the end of this post. A few things first:
-Nearly every article that you'll find about 20th century Balkan history will be followed by countless comments that argue over which ethnicity/religion/state/political group suffered the most. These comments are largely driven by opinion, and they are generally pretty hateful, and should be avoided at all costs.
-20th century Balkan history was defined by waves of violence that shifted as different groups came into power. All of the various ethnic, religious, political, and social factions in the former Yugoslavian states have suffered at some time.
-The anniversary of Srebrenica was a memorial for the victims of the massacre, not proof that all Serbians were "bad" and all Bosniaks were "good." To use one event to analyze an entire group is foolish and dangerous.
Blackburn's highlights:
Growing up with a Catholic Croatian mother and Muslim Bulgarian father was seamless in some ways since the two Balkan cultures were similar in language, traditions, music and food. The religious similarities of our family are what we focused on all through the years. Outside our family, however, our religious differences are what people focused on. Funny how that happens. I experienced the rich culture of my Croatian Catholic side- even dancing in a Croatian dance troupe at churches and festivals around Chicagoland. We connected to our Muslim Balkan roots by aligning with Bosnian Muslims of Chicagoland. There were only a handful of Bulgarian Muslims in America; and, Bosnians took us in as their own. We really are the same people. We're family.
The differences between the Catholic, Serbian Orthodox, and Muslim faiths have been a source of division in the Balkans. Blackburn shows how easily this can be reversed.
Leaving the mosque one night a few years ago, my Bosnian refugee friend pulled up in front of my house to drop me off. Instead, we sat in the car for hours while she told me stories of travesties that took place in Bosnia in the 1990s. Some of the things she told me, I have never repeated. They are so entirely gruesome, cruel and horrific - that I don't have the wherewithal to repeat them. I don't want to harm the memories of the victims by writing about it in detail. But the stories have been told of scores of Muslim women raped by Serb soldiers in front of their family members- babies killed - and men and boys massacred by the thousands. Entire villages were terrorized.
The most difficult period that I've gone through in studying history relates to this. In comparing Yugoslavian violence in the post-World War I and Yugoslavian Wars eras, I read the trial transcripts from the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia. As with Blackburn, these accounts are things that I will never repeat or write about. After three days of reading, I stepped away from historical research and writing for three weeks (despite being in the middle of a graduate semester). The thought of even approaching the material again gave me anxiety. This is pretty significant, since I'm your average American man in his 30s- desensitized to realistic violence, courtesy of the news media, tv, movies, video games. I haven't ever really used this phrase before but what I read hurt my soul. And this was from just reading about the events. I think it's critical that events like these are documented, however, I will never encourage anyone to read these transcripts, and I will never direct anyone to their location. Simply put, there are things that you can't un-read. The depictions of Srebrenica are in that category. Blackburn sums this up all too appropriately: "If this type of evil happened once; it can happen again. It's like a bitter taste in your mouth even in times of peace. Knowing that human beings are capable of such evil is a stark reality to come to terms with."
Everyone wants to say that the Balkan conflicts are complicated. They are not complicated. Bigotry is not complicated! It's simple: You are different than me, therefore, I hate you. You prescribe to a different religious faith than I do; therefore, I want you dead.
This is true. The solutions to Balkan conflicts are incredibly complex, but the roots of the conflicts are simple. Fear and hate are pervasive forces in the region. This is no surprise, given that the various ethnic and religious groups that were merged into Yugoslavia had been subjected to rule and oppression by a number of foreign forces for centuries.
Justice is barely being served in this matter. Reportedly 25,000 people took part in the mass genocide. Some of these perpetrators made it to the United States and have been living the high life. They are now being deported; and, it's about time. Key figures (some now dead) brought to the Hague and tried for war crimes and genocide include: -I've omitted their names, because like Blackburn, I believe that- These people do not deserve for their names to be remembered. The thousands of victims deserve their names to be remembered. But let their names forever be published for the world to never forget the evil that exists and what it is capable of. It's been 20 years since the genocide of Srebrenica. Never forget Srebrenica.
Srebrenica's massacre produced countless victims, as only a genocide can. The atrocities committed are well-documented, and blindly denying them is ludicrous. These victims were punished because their ethnic and religious beliefs conflicted with those who held power in the region. They deserve to be remembered.
So why am I writing this?
To remind myself of two things. The first is what studying Balkan history taught me: competitive victimization is the most destructive force in human history. This realization hit me while reviewing Croatian and Serbian narratives of Yugoslavia from 1918-1945. The overwhelming Croatian sentiment is that Serbians will never suffer as badly as Croatians did while Yugoslavia was under Serbian rule (1918-1941). The overwhelming Serbian sentiment is that Croatians will never suffer like Serbians did under the rule of the Nazi implemented Independent State of Croatia (1941-1944/45). The truth is, both groups suffered horribly. Both were subjected to senseless violence and lived in fear of the other at times. In the Yugoslav Wars of the 1990s, both sides rallied around the atrocities committed against them decades before, and ultimately rationalized their respective war crimes by referencing how they had previously been victimized. Whether in a marriage, a regional dispute, or a global war, a conflict that arises over which party has suffered more can never be resolved. No one will ever say, "You know what? I never thought about it that way. Wow, you're right."
Or will they?
Because this brings me to the second conclusion that I came to from Balkan studies. Memory is an incredible, frightening, beautiful, ugly thing. There is no force more unifying and divisive. Choosing to remember and choosing to forget are the most difficult, yet healing, things we can do.
Within the collective memories of Bosniaks, Croats, Serbs, Slovenes, Kosovans, and all of the other Balkan groups is one common theme: suffering. For most of them, past and present suffering serves as the very foundation of their collective identity. This is largely lost on these groups because their suffering has come at the hands of their neighbors. But doesn't that exist as one strikingly similar cultural element? Imagine one party saying to another, "My people have suffered greatly. I have no clue what you've been through, but I see that yours have too. I'm sorry that we are both going through this." Is this idealistic? Yes. Is this unrealistic? Yes. Is this a basic lesson that we teach kids who have been in a fight or hurt each others' feelings? Recognizing that both have been hurt, and apologizing? Yes. Why? Because it works. Children don't always quickly forget, or may not forget at all, but they find a way to move on. As infantile as it seems, I believe that long-term peace in the Balkans can only be rectified when mature third parties (*with no economic interests*) come in and say "You're far more alike than you know. Shake hands, and go play and discover those similarities."
Back to Srebrenica. I choose to take something away from this, as I do with other cases of genocide: the power of memory. Genocide fails because we remember. I can go online right now and find information on Native American, Jewish, Armenian, and Herero history because no matter how hard others have tried to erase those groups' existence, memory is an incredible, beautiful thing. Those genocides were unimaginably horrific events, but hopefully the physical manifestations of our memory- memorials, remembrances, and ceremonies will minimize the effects of current and future attempts at genocide. So tonight I remember what I know of Srebrenica: A beautiful town nestled in a beautiful countryside. Far too many tombstones. Heart-breaking descriptions of humans at their worst. That time that I told someone I didn't think I would ever study Balkan history again- she googled "love hope healing children Srebrenica" and showed me the first thing that came up- a picture of a Serbian Orthodox and Bonsnian Muslim children's choir singing together (that I immediately saved):
"That's why you'll stick with it."
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