Thursday, December 28, 1995 – News with a View, Star Tribune

         Not so ancient a grudge?                                                  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Above, the author, Nick Hayes, surveys the ruins of a Catholic church in a region north of Banja Luka, Bosnia.  As part of the ethnic cleansing, Serb forces destroyed most of the mosques and Catholic churches in areas they controlled.  At right, Hayes inteviews Father Volaric in front of a Catholic cemetary chapel in Croatia on the Sava River, just across the border from Bosnia.

 

After a year in the former Yugoslavia, Minnesota scholar Nick Hayes argues that the oft-encouraged practice of trying to understand the Bosnian war in the context of centuries of ethnic hatred may do more to confuse than to clarify the mission faced by U.S. troops.  Our task in the Balkans is not to right five centuries of wrongs but to put an end to the damage of the past five years.

       As U.S. troops take up positions in the Bosnian mountains, the American public remains confused and skeptical of what if anything we can do to bring peace to that benighted region.
       One reason for that skepticism is the belief that our troops are walking into the middle of a Hatfield-McCoy-type feud, with impenetrable ancient roots and so much blood on everyone’s hand’s that no outsider could hope to differentiate the perpetrators from the victims.
  
    Over a year ago, as I settled into a fellowship in the former Yugoslavia, I shared the same confusion and skepticism.  As a historian of Eastern Europe, I certainly believe in taking the long view of current events.  But my year of travel and study convinced me that this war was a case in which the short view tells us more than the long view.
       This was started five years—not five centuries—ago.   Its proximate cause was Serbian President Slobodan Milosovic’s desire to grab land from Bosnia and Croatia and his desire to reinvent himself politically as a Serb nationalist for the post-Communist era.
        Of course the war derives to some extent from the history of the region and the parties involved.  Every war does.  But that doesn’t mean that it was the inevitable resumption of a centuries-old feud among parties that have never been able to live together in peace.
        Why then is that idea so widely believed?  One reason is that Presidents Bush and Clinton, when they were trying to justify a policy of non-intervention, fed us a misconception of the region’s history.  George Bush called the conflict “a blood feud.”  Lawrence Eagleburger, a former ambassador to Yugoslavia and Bush’s last secretary of state, told us the fighting had “ancient and complicated roots.”
        Last June, Clinton made the same point by telling us that the conflict in the ex-Yugoslavia dates back to the “11th century” and that the people there have been fighting for “500 years.”
        There is some truth to this broad generalization.  We should understand that the line between the Christians of the Eastern Orthodox faith and Roman Catholicism was drawn in the Balkans a millennium ago.  The animosity between Serbs and Bosnians has its historical roots in the 14th-century Turkish conquest of the Serbs when some of their fellow Slavs converted to the Muslim faith of their conquerors.
        The promoters of the ancient blood feud analysis would have us believe that the Serbs of Bosnia killed, raped and ethnically cleansed their non—Serb neighbors in the 1990s because they wanted to settle a grudge dating back to 1389 Battle of Kosovo, in which the Ottoman Turks defeated the Serbs.
        But most Serbs lived side by side with Croats and Bosnian Muslims, intermarried, and nurtured a multi-national society that enjoyed relative peace for the greater part of the modern era.

 A nationalist is born
        They might have continued doing so if not for Milosovic, the former Communist apparatchik, who in 1989 saw the writing on the wall for communism in Eastern Europe.  He found a new political life for himself by embracing the cause of Serbian nationalism.  This meant advocating the creation of a “Greater Serbia” out of the ashes of the disintegrating Yugoslavia.  He enlisted the otherwise dispensable JNA (Yugoslavia National Army) to serve this cause.
        Part of the new political package was a manipulation of Serb historical memories from medieval wars against the Turks to more recent memories of World War II when a Croatian fascist government known as the “ustashe” first transformed Bosnia in killing fields by mass execution of Serbs.
        U.S. leaders have also muddled the sense of moral responsibility for the war. The White House has added to the confusion by mixing denunciations of the Serbian leadership with cliches about how there was enough blame to spread around to all the war-ring parties.
        Certainly none of the parties are blameless.  But it should not be necessary to prove that the Bosnians and Croats are innocent to identify and intervene against the primary perpetrators of Europe’s worst war crime in 50 years.
        Put the clock back to 1991.  The government of Croatia under President Franjo Tudjman played with ultra nationalist rhetoric of its own.  Symbolic gestures by the Tudjman government re-kindled real Serbian fears from the ustashe regime in World War II.  Zagreb re-introduced the WWII government symbols and in the Serb populated regions street signs switched from the Serbian cyrillic to the Croatian Latin letters.
        Rumors spread that Serbs were summarily dismissed from their jobs.   It was obvious to me and many Croatians that the action of their government were stupid and risked setting off a paranoid reaction among Croatia’s substantial Serbian minority.
        But these policies, provocative and bigoted as they were, do not justify an armed secessionist movement, aided by the overwhelming power of the JNA.
        There is a world of moral differences between firing policeman, and changing street signs, as the Croats did, and unleashing a heavily armed artillery against virtually unarmed civilian populations and precious historical monuments and systematically bringing “ethnic cleansing” to each new area that fell under Serb control.
        Take the example of one of my students last year at the University of Zagreb.  Marja was a refugee from Vukovar, which the JNA captured in November 1991.  The city was reduced to rubble while the Serb troops took away some 2,000 Croat men and 105 women age 14 to 45.  Marja’s mother and an aunt were among those women.  Her father and brother disappeared with the men taken from Vukovar.   Five years later, the Serbs have never even identified the names of those detained let alone accounted for their fate.

Eyewitness account
        Yes, Croats began to take revenge.  Last May, I followed the trail of the Croatian armed forces into the region of Western Slavonia which they had just retaken from the Serbs who had ethnically cleansed the region in 1992.
        There was a grim silence to the former Serb strongholds of Jasenovac and Okucani.  Most dwellings stood empty as Croat soldiers patrolled the streets.
        But I crossed into the Serb-held areas of Bosnia near Banja Luka, an apprehension about what the Croats might have done gave way to a sense of horror in face of the reality of what the Bosnian Serbs had done in their occupation of Bosnia.
        The Serb record in the region already included the utter destruction of 17 mosques, 55 Catholic Churches and a Jewish cemetary.  I followed what came next.  On May 7, the Serb troops in the Banja Luka vicinity removed seven monks from their monastery and refused to allow them to save an eighth member, a paraplegic who perished as the troops destroyed the monastery with hand grenades.
        Two days later, Serb troops entered a Catholic Convent in a village outside Banja Luka.  Nine nuns, aged 65 to 80, were assaulted, stripped and left on the Croatian border after the troops had demolished their convent that dated back to the 17th century.
        I could not help but conclude that the Serbs’ actions in areas of Croatia and Bosnia read like pages from “MacBeth” while the acts of the Croats and Bosnians remind us that no nationality is perfect and that victims often take revenge by imitating the crimes of their tormentors.
        Let’s get our perspective on this war straight.  Our task in the Balkans is not to right five centuries of wrongs, but to put and end to the damage of the past five years.
        What is more, its outcomes goes far beyond the Balkans.  The war in the ex-Yugoslavia is a vivid example of the extreme political battles being waged throughout the former Communist countries of Europe ever since the Berlin Wall came down.

The View from Moscow

        That’s why as I watched the war I also paid attention to how the war played in Moscow.
        The connection between the worst in the new Russian politics and this was obvious.  Russia’s clown fascist Vladimir Zhirinovsky had visited Vukovar in 1994 and Russian TV broadcast the toast he gave there in honor of Serbian troops.  He didn’t bother while in Vukovar to inquire about the fate of my student Marja’s mother, aunt, father or brother.
        In the same year, the same nationalists in the Russian Duma or parliament who would triumph in Russia’s 1995 elections, had bequeathed its highest literary award on Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadzic’s nationalist poetry.
        If the Serbian aggression succeeds and the atrocities go unpunished, the war in the Balkans will become a script to be followed by every two bit nationalist in Central and Eastern Europe.  The script goes like this:
  
     Build your political base by joining the nationalist right with the frustration in the armed services whose privileged position went out with the Warsaw Pact, then grab international media attention by defying the U.N., NATO and, best of all, Washington.
        Thus, as the winding down of the war in the ex-Yugoslavia coincided with the recent Russian elections, I could not suppress the fear that out of the Balkans something is slouching towards the Kremlin.
        For the past five years, the worst in Serbian politics were able to practice ethnic cleansing with such impunity from the fear of reprisals or international protection of the victims that the new totalitarians in post-Communist politics from Belgrade to Moscow can still harbor the evil dream that Eastern Europe, at least, is still safe for genocide.

 Nick Hayes teaches history at Hamline University and serves as a regular commentator on Russian and European affairs for KTCA-TV’s “Almanac.”  In 1994-95, he served as the Fulbright Journalist/Scholar in residence in the former Yugoslavia.