Category Archives: Hate

Nationalism and Pluralism

 

I think we all know what nationalism is. It has been with us much longer than pluralism. Unfortunately, nationalism is also much more common than pluralism.

 

Nationalism is usually considered an ideology which emphasizes loyalty to a particular nation. It can be a force for good. Often it is a force for bad. It often promotes devotion to one’s own country above all.  The lates strong iteration of it, is the MAGA movement in the US. Make America great again. Or for those who already think it is a great, make it greater.  America First would be a more important principle for American nationalists. When it leads to feelings of superiority it has usually gone too far. A strong love of one’s own country is a natural feeling and unobjectionable.  But feelings of superiority are often unjustified and not very productive.

 

Pluralism is the recognition and affirmation of diversity within a society, where different groups, interests, and beliefs coexist and interact peacefully. It sees strength in diversity which all can benefit from. It not only tolerates diverse views, and even peoples, it celebrates in diversity. Respect of other cultures is essential to the philosophy of pluralism.  Feelings of superiority are an anathema. Nationalism can be a fierce opponent of pluralism. In such a case, in my view, nationalism has gone too far. Pluralism is incompatible with extremism. You can one but not both. Pluralism is born out humility.

 

The struggle between nationalism and pluralism is often fraught. For example, recent examples close to home, are the relationship between Quebec and its separatists, who want to form the independent, or sovereign nation, as they like to call it, of Quebec. In Canada, Alberta is the latest example of where feelings are tending towards separation. How far those feelings will lead that province are not known.

 

In Yugoslavia feelings of pluralism were swamped by nationalism, except in those states where a yearning for separation by smaller groups  prevailed. After their leader Tito died, many Croats wanted to have Croatia secede from Yugoslavia. At the same time, Serbians within Croatia did not want to secede because they felt they would become a minority in the new country, when they had been a majority in power in Yugoslavia. As well, some Slovenians wanted to secede from Yugoslavia, and that was opposed by the Croats within as well as Serbians.

 

The struggle for separate national states often leads to serious political problems. It can, and has, frequently led to serious conflict. Around the world people have come to favor nationalism at the expense of pluralism. That is usually a serious mistake. In the former Yugoslavia after the death of Tito, clearly nationalism had the floor. Pluralism seemed dead. Croatia, Slovenia, Bosnia, and Kosovo, all wanted to be sovereign states even if violence was the only way to achieve it.

 

There was no credible force for pluralism.  I often quote William Butler Yeats who described this phenomena well: The best lack all conviction while the worst are filled with passionate intensity.” Serbia claimed to be the leader for unity of the states, but all the others lacked confidence that its claims were not based solely on its interest in dominating the other states. No one argued for all for one and one for all that is the precondition pluralism requires.

Pluralism was dead; war of all against all commenced. And the people suffered.

Why is Yugoslavia’s History so Important?

 

This is a very unclear photograph I took  of a photograph through a dirty window which  I saw in Vukovar. It shows what Vukovar looked like after its war that lasted less than 4 months. Perhaps it is best that we can’t see it clearly?  What would Canada look like after a Civil War? Or the United States? Do you think that is impossible? History suggests otherwise.

A friend of mine told me recently, he found history boring. He did not want to learn anything about European countries fighting each other in “ancient” wars. I was surprised, but I suspect that is a common reaction. I did not challenge his point of view.  After all, we are all different. I suspect that most of my readers are bored by my comments about history. I hope not, but as I have said at the outset of this blog, I am writing for myself, because I enjoy it and because I write to organize my thoughts and as a result, I learn more. I hope some others enjoy what I write, but I write for myself.

 

Well, I think Yugoslavian history is very important. Even though that country no longer exists. When Yugoslavia broke up the extremists took over. That is the worst thing that can happen. Extremism in Yugoslavia led directly to savagery and barbarism. That is where extremism often leads.

 

As a  recovering lawyer, I know one thing is very important. That is that divorce is never simple. Who gets the kids? Who gets the new computer? How much should one of the couple pay the other for support? Does it matter if one is at fault? Does it matter if one earned much more money than the other during the marriage?

 

And rarely, have the couple planned it out carefully before the divorce. After all they were in love forever.

 

We must multiply the difficulties in the case of a country breaking up.  That is even much more complicated. First, there are no clear rules. That means it is a minefield. It can quickly turn into a melee. Secondly, there are a lot more than 2 people and kids involved. Millions have their millions of opinions. So you get a great variety of opinions on both sides (or really, all sides) on every issue. Some of the questions are still the same. Who gets the good stuff? Like oil. Or nuclear reactors? Or the army? Who gets the debt?  How are the new boundaries to be determined? What about the people left behind in the “wrong country.”  How do we resolve these issues when there is no court to determine it.

 

We also have to remember that the loudest voices are often not most thoughtful voices? Extremists always seem to move to the podium in each country from where they speak the loudest. Level heads rarely count for much. The quiet ones seem out of the picture. The hot heads are screaming and we know where they stand.

 

Canada has a lot in common with Yugoslavia. And that’s the problem. Let’s consider a few issues. Consider Quebec. If it separates what happens to the national debt of Quebec or Canada? What if the Cree or Innu from northern Quebec want to stay in Canada? What if other first nations want to stay in Quebec? What are the new boundaries going to be? Some are pretty arbitrary. What if Labrador wants to be part of Quebec, rather than Newfoundland. What if St. Boniface wants to be part of Quebec?  What about those that don’t want to follow their leaders? Where do the Maritimes go if they are no longer connected to the rest of Canada.

 

Consider Alberta? Who gets the oil wells? What if indigenous people don’t want to stay in Alberta? What about the massive subsides that have been poured into the oil and gas industry over the decades? What if Alberta is landlocked? Is it too bad so sad for Canada? What about guarantees of religious freedom? What if LGBTQ don’t want to be part of Alberta? What if some people, from Saskatchewan want to be part of the new country of Alberta?  What if others, let’s say farmers, don’t want to join? What if Manitoba says, well then we will join the US as their 51st state (assuming the US would be stupid enough to agree to this)?

 

What if some first nations want to stay with Alberta and others want to stay with Canada? What if some want to join the US? What happens to the treaties between Canada and First Nations?

 

We have to remember what Ignatieff said:  “One essential problem with the language of self-determination and nationhood is its contagious. Quebec has discovered a people who also call themselves a nation.” The Cree in that province have been fighting back.

 

Separation will be incredibly complicated. And tempers will be running wild. Remember, hot heads will rise to the top. Cooler heads will likely not prevail. On both sides. Things can get out of hand quickly. Witness what happened in Yugoslavia. Neighbours there who had got along well for many years, all of sudden took up arms against each other?

What can we learn from Yugoslavia?  One thing, is that such questions are extremely divisive, and partisans can quickly appear who want to fight it out and will insist on belligerence from their leaders, not wisdom. History is important, and it must warn us and we must learn to be careful. Another lesson is that we must not turn our country over to the extremists. Finally, we learn from history that violence and anger don’t solve any problems. They just make things worse and they are unlikely to be in short supply.

We must learn humility. Hubris will be deadly.

And finally, such issues won’t be easier to resolve in this age of technological amplification of divisions and the rapid spread of disinformation, particularly disinformation that inflames matters. Things will be exponentially worse.

And if this happens too in the USA, which is flooded with firearms and other weapons and a history of violence that seems to be baked into their DNA, things are bound to be much worse than in Canada. As if all of that is not bad enough, the recent history of Americans choosing explosively ignorant leaders will also not be helpful. Times of tension require cool heads not hot heads. And they will be in short supply.

Learning history of places like Yugoslavia could help us to avoid the worst excesses of what happened there when that country broke up. Maybe it could even help us to avoid the break-up by reminding us of how precious our country is and we should not become complacent. It does not take much to slip into extremism. A little knowledge might help to avoid it.

All in all, things could get ugly. Quickly. The photograph above is what it means to look through a glass darkly.  That is also what the sleep of reason brings.

Who was to blame for the tragedy of Yugoslavia?

 

It is not hard to find people in the Balkans worthy of blame for the mess of the Yugoslav wars. It is much more difficult to find the blameless. As Tony Judt said, “There was certainly enough responsibility to go around.” The UN at first showed little concern about what was happening in Yugoslavia.

 

The UN Secretary-General at the time, Boutros Boutros-Ghali dismissed Bosnia as “a rich man’s war.”  When the UN finally arrived, it spent most of its time blocking the victims from defending themselves while the brutal aggressors were given a free hand to practice their lethal butchery. France not only was very reluctant to get involved, but also reluctant to even blame Serbia. Frequently it chose to blame the victims instead. It also took the Americans an awful long time to get engaged, but when they did it led the way against Milošević and his thugs. Their initiatives finally drove the allies towards intervention. Yet the US also dragged its feet while innocents were being slaughtered, because after Somalia in particular it was loath to take any risks at all, even though it had the most powerful armed forces in the world, because it felt, as James Baker the former Secretary of State had crudely said, “we’ve got no dog in this fight.”

 

The whole problem of humanitarian intervention in domestic wars or aggressions is truly, as another American Secretary of State, Warren Christopher had said, is “a problem from hell.”  Samantha Power wrote a brilliant book with that title. And in hell there are no easy solutions.  That does not mean we are justified on that basis alone from not doing what we can do to save innocent lives. It just means that the job will be enormously difficult and we must be ready for the task, or stay home and permit the exploitation of innocents. We must proceed with humility, but that is no excuse for inaction. After all the case for humanitarian intervention is always at best, an uneasy one. We must have a great deal of confidence to send our young soldiers into harm’s way in order to set the world right. It takes inordinate hubris, outright foolishness, or, perhaps, profound compassion.

 

The Yugoslavs themselves are also not without blame. As Tony Judt said, “no one emerges with honour.”  The Serbs held primary responsibility for the disaster, but the Croats and Slovenes were by no means lily white. Bosnian Muslims had minimal opportunities to commit atrocities so they at least committed few war crimes. They might have if they had claws. It is not clear what they would have done had they enjoyed more opportunities to wreak havoc too. They were largely on the receiving end.  And as Paul Thorne the American singer/song said so wisely, “I’d rather be a hammer than a nail.”

 

The losses of lives and homes were staggering.  The losses of civilization were appalling. For example, Sarajevo, one of the most beautiful, most cosmopolitan, and most civilized cities in Europe was left in ruins.  As Judt said, “it can be rebuilt but it can never recover.” The same happened to Vukovar and others.

The Croats were responsible for innumerable acts of violence against civilians.  This was directed by their political leaders in Zagreb. For example, in Mostar, a city that I visited that first time I was in this region,  a town in western Bosnia with an unusually high percentage of interfaith marriages, Croat extremists deliberately set about expelling Muslims and mixed families from the western half of the city and replaced them with Croat peasants. They paid back the ethnic cleansers by engaging in it as well. Then they set siege to the eastern districts of Mostar and in 1993 systematically destroyed the sixteenth century Ottoman bridge across the Neretva river even though it had been a symbol of the town’s integrated and ecumenical past.  It would have been like the fascists destroying the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.

In fact, as Judt said,

“The Croats then, had little to boast of—and of all the post-Communist leaders who emerged from the rubble, Franjo Tudjman was one of the more egregiously unattractive.  More than anyone else he made it a personal project to erase the Yugoslav past from his fellow citizen’s memory:  by March 1993 the very word ‘Yugoslavia’ had been removed from textbooks, readers, encyclopedias, book titles and maps published in the new Croatia.”

 

Needless to say, this did not help bring unity or pluralism. Only after he died did Croatia attain semblances of the old civilization. However, as Judt concluded,

“But in the end the primary responsibility for the Yugoslav catastrophe must rest with the Serbs and their elected leader Slobodan Milošević.  It was Milošević whose bid for power drove the other republics to leave.  It was Milošević who then encouraged his fellow Serbs in Croatia and Bosnia to carve out territorial enclaves and who backed them with his army.  And it was Milošević who authorized and directed the sustained assault on Yugoslavia’s Albanian population that led to the war in Kosovo.

Belgrade’s actions were a disaster for Serbs everywhere.  They lost their land in the Krajina region of Croatia; they were forced to accept an independent Bosnia and abandon plans to carve out from it a sovereign Serb state; they were defeated in Kosovo, from which most of the Serb population has since fled in justified fear of Albanian retribution; and in the rump state of Yugoslavia (from which even Montenegro has sought to secede) their standard of living has fallen to historic lows. This course of events has further exacerbated a longstanding Serb propensity for collective self-pity at the injustice of history and it is true that in the long run the Serbs may be the greatest losers in the Yugoslav wars.  It says something about the condition of their country that today even Bulgaria and Romania rank above Serbia in present living standards and future prospects.

But this irony should not blind us to Serb responsibility.  The appalling ferocity and sadism of the Croat and Bosnian wars—the serial abuse, degradation, torture and rape and murder of hundreds of thousands of their fellow citizens—was the work of Serb men, most young, aroused to paroxysm of casual hatred and indifference to suffering by propaganda and leadership from local chieftains whose ultimate direction and power came from Belgrade.  What followed was no so unusual: it had happened in Europe just a few decades before, when—all across the continent and under the warrant of war—ordinary people committed quite extraordinary crimes.

There is no doubt that in Bosnia especially there was a history upon which Serb propaganda could call—a history of past suffering that lay buried just beneath the misleadingly placid surface of post-war Yugoslav life.  But the decision to arouse that memory, to manipulate and exploit it for political ends, was made by men: one man in particular.  As Slobodan Milošević disingenuously conceded to a journalist during the Dayton talks, he never expected the wars in his country to last so long.  That is doubtless true.  But those wars did not just break out form spontaneous ethnic combustion.  Yugoslavia did not fall: it was pushed.  It did not die: it was killed.”

 

 

And primarily blame fell at the initiative of the Serbs led by Slobodan Milošević who took advantage of deeply burning resentments. Resentment is rarely a good motive for anything, as Friedrich Nietzsche showed us.

I would merely add, that it was the people of Serbia who voluntarily turned their country over to extremists who were also at fault as well. When extremists take over, it is not just their fault. The people should not let that happen, at least if they have a choice. Just as the people don’t get off in Gaza, or Israel, or the United States, or Canada.

The history of the Balkans is not over.    Yet it appears, that Serbia has at least temporarily lost its teeth.  We will have to watch with interest what happens.  Hopefully it will be peaceful.  History however, would suggest otherwise. History would suggest that violence will return and domination from some power, perhaps foreign will prevail.

Hopefully history will not repeat itself. Again. But sadly, those old resentments can always flair up again, as Ukraine and so many other countries have discovered.

Vukovar: Hell is Empty; The devils are all Here

 

When I went on our guided walk through a part of Vukovar, I realized I was wearing a Belgrade, Serbia, baseball cap, which my sister-in-law bought me as a souvenir.   I asked our guide, Marda if that bothered her. I had been thoughtless to wear it. Marda said it was not a problem. It happened before my time. She was really too young. It was 30 years ago. To me a short time ago. To her a lifetime ago.  I was happy that she held no resentments against the Serbs.  If there is anything the wars of Serbia teach us it is, as Nietzsche pointed out, resentment is a sterile feeling that helps no one.

 

Places like Vukovar make clear the language of nationalism.  It turns the world into one of black and white. Us against Them.  The Good against the Bad.  Dostoevsky said that ‘if God is dead then all is permitted.’  Though profound I believe that he did not quite get it right. Rather I would say that if you reduce the other to an object, to an it, then all is permitted. Then it is not just possible, but honorable, to destroy towns in order to free them. Like Vukovar had been completely destroyed. Then it is possible to make rape an instrument of warfare.  Rape as national policy.  Then there is nothing wrong with shooting hostages. Or your neighbours.  Then heroes commit mass murders. It does not matter if young boys are included. All is permitted in the holy cause.  All is permitted when the other side is reduced to things.  They are no longer people.  They are objects of our wrath. It has nothing to do with the death of God.  All is permitted when the world is transformed into a world of Us against Them.

In such a world, as Ignatieff said, in his book Blood and Belonging,

 

“It was in Vukovar that I began to see how nationalism works as a moral vocabulary of self-exoneration. No one is responsible for anything but the other side… The pistol toting hoodlums, holed up in the ruins of the Hotel Dunav, who came out and threatened to kill my translator simply because he was Hungarian; the Krajinan Minster who had no information that was not a lie; the mayor of Vukovar, who went around the Vukovar hospital handing out Serbian flags to men whose legs ended at a bandaged stump—not one of these creatures ever expressed the slightest shame, regret, or puzzlement that the insensate prosecution of their cause had led to the ruination of their own city.  For all of them, the responsibility was solely Croat.

That is what happens in the world of Us v Them.  Bob Dylan put it well when he said, “you don’t count the dead with God on your side.” Or as our guide for the day, Marda said, “We’ve been to hell and back.”

 

When fighting subsided in Croatia a 14,000-person UN force was installed to keep Croats and Serbs apart. Croats had obtained an independent State and Milošević suffered the second of his string of ignominious defeats. Defeats that never gave him pause to consider the wisdom, or lack thereof, of his approach. Brutes like him rarely seem to reflect on their lives. At least I have seen few records of such reflections. That’s too bad. They might be able to offer some insights.

Shakespeare wrote, “Hell is Empty, the devils are all here. After walking through Vukovar I think I think I know what he meant.

 

The Water Tower: A Symbol of Resistance

Our guide Marda led us on a fascinating walk through the town of Vukovar in Croatia. This town in 1991 was at the time the sight of the largest siege since the Second World War. Frankly, I expected to see more war-ravaged buildings, but most of them had been cleaned up. I don’t blame them for cleaning it up. Nobody wants to walk through devastation permanently (except me). And it has been more than 30 years since the war ended.

 

The first building we saw, from a distance, was the water tower which had become the symbol of the resistance of brave Croatians to the 3-month Serbian siege. The Croatians see it as symbol of their glorious resistance, defiance, and, they think, invincibility.  I consider such ideas hubris. After the war, it was one of the very few buildings (some say only one) left standing.  And that was truly remarkable since it had been subjected to barrage from the 1st day of the siege to the last, 87 days later.

There are images of the tower that can be purchased in gift shops for tourists. Souvenirs of the war. Go figure.

The Water Tower as a symbol of the defence of Vukovar was officially adopted on 30 October 2020, and is illuminated in the colours of the Croatian flag, with the lyrics of the Croatian anthem.

From day 1 of the siege , each and every day of the siege, the Serbians tried to demolish the tower with gunfire, and amazingly, if not miraculously as the locals think, it stood. It was hit with bullets but never collapsed. In fact, it was hit 640 times in 87 days. The people of the town took its durability as a message of their own durability and that of their town. They thought, that as long as the tower was there the Town would stand.

 

There is another amazing element to this story. Each day 2 young men, Ivica Ivanika and his friend Hrvoje Džalto took it upon themselves, to climb to the top of the tower,  at night in the dark without flashlights, to avoid getting shot. They climbed up the tower in order place  a new undamaged and sacred flag of Croatia to replace the one filled with Serbian bullet holes. The two men were scared every time they climbed up, thinking they might be shot. But every night they succeeded. It took about an hour and half to climb up and back down again, but they did it every day, religiously.

 

The stairs were not in perfect condition.  Entire rows of stairs were missing. No one had asked them to do this. They just did it. Sometimes they climbed in the middle of fierce fighting. They usually started around midnight. And every day the Serbs shot the flag down, and every night the two young men replaced the destroyed flag. Soldiers said that everyday their spirits were boosted as a result.

 

Unfortunately, Ivica Ivanika lost his life shortly before the town fell to the Serbs. After the fall of the city, Hrvoje Džalto was taken prisoner and much later exchanged, but he died before the opening of the renovated Tower. They are the heroes of the town.

 

Today, the tower has been converted into a museum with a restaurant. Traces of the war are still evident. And they are leaving those marks as a reminder. I appreciated that.

 

I think it is important to remember what happened there. It was a place where brothers turned murderous.

 

Sadly that can happen. It can happen anywhere. That is what we must remember.

New Nationalism and Barbarism in Vukovar

 

Michael Ignatieff visited Vukovar shortly after the Croatian War ended and described it in his wonderful book Blood and Belonging, long before he started wasting his time and his talents on being the leader of the Liberal Party of Canada and proved himself hopeless as a politician.

He pointed out that the Yugoslavian Army, then controlled by Serbia, lobbed 150,00 shells into the city. Not that the Croatians were entirely innocent either. The Croats dynamited parts of the city so that when the Serbs took over, they would gain nothing but rubble.

All wars are brutal, but particularly wars between brother nations. Civil Wars or Wars of Secession.  They bring out a particularly nasty hatred that brooks no restraint. Instead, in such wars, the hatred spews out like a fountain—a fountain of blood. That is one of the reasons people should resist the voices of extremists who demand a country breaks up. Separatists in Canada and the United States should remember this.

Ignatieff went on his journeys in order to write a book about what he called the new nationalism. What he found was not very pretty. Particularly in Vukovar, Ignatieff learned a lot about nationalism:

“It was in Vukovar that I began to see how nationalism works as a moral vocabulary. No one is responsible for anything, but the other side.  In the moral universe of pure nationalist delusion, all action is compelled by tragic necessity. Towns must be destroyed in “order to liberate them. Hostages must be shot.  Massacres must be undertaken. Why? Because the other side started it first.  Because the other side are beasts and understand no language but violence and reprisal. And so on.  Everyone in a nationalist war speaks in the language of fate, compulsion, and moral abdication.  Nowhere did this reach such a nadir as in Vukovar.  The pistol-toting hoodlums, holed up in the ruins of the Hotel Dunav, who came out and threatened to kill my translator simply because he was Hungarian; the Krajinan Information Minister who had no information that was not a lie; the mayor of Vukovar, who went around the Vukovar handing out Serbian flags to men whose legs ended at a bandaged stump—not one of these creatures ever expressed the slightest sense of shame, regret, or puzzlement that the insensate prosecution of their cause had led to the ruination of their own city. For all of them, the responsibility was solely Croat.”

The only thing new, about the new nationalism, is that it is even more bloody than the old.

Vukovar: The Croatian Stalingrad

 

 

In Vukovar we went on a walk through town led by Marda a local resident. This is one of the buildings we saw filled with bullet holes.

Among other things, she talked about the war in Vukovar that started when Croatia tried to break away from Yugoslavia.  Serbians who dominated Yugoslavia did not want it to leave. Perhaps like Ontario might feel if Quebec or Alberta would leave.  Or how California might feel if Texas tried to secede from the United States. Such ideas are what sparked the American film Civil War a couple of years ago. As the Wendy Ide of the Guardian explained it, “In that film, near-future US has turned its anger against itself; a new civil war is raging.” [1] In that film a president of the United States, who sounded a lot like the current president, was practicing his speech in front of a mirror.  This is what he said, “Some are already calling it the greatest victory in the history of mankind.” But those brave words were completely removed from reality. And brutal violence followed.  But Vukovar was real. It already happened.

 

What was really appalling about the destruction in Vukovar was that it was necessitated by no military objective.  It was entirely senseless.  As Michael Ignatieff said,

 

“The pulverization of Vukovar made no military sense.  When I asked a Serb tank commander why they had done it, he shrugged his shoulders.  ‘War has many such tragedies… Leningrad… Stalingrad…”  But these were battles with a military objective. In a nationalist war, on the other hand military objectives were driven by a desire to hurt, humiliate, and punish. The JNA (Yugoslav National Army) could have bypassed Vukovar and sent its tank columns down the Highway of Brotherhood and Unity all the way to Zagreb.  Instead, it sat on the other side of the Danube and pounded Vukovar into rubble, as if to say, with each outgoing shell, ‘So you want to be independent, do you?  This is what it will cost you, and what you will have at the end if nothing but ruins.’”

It is hard not to think, as you stand in the shattered graveyards, convents, churches, and homes, that someone derived deep pleasure from all this destruction.  All these ancient walls, all these crucifixes, church towers, ancient slate roofs, were demolished by people whose ideologies ceaselessly repeated that they were fighting to defend the holy and sacred past from desecration. In a way, the artillery expressed the essential nihilism of what people called conviction more honestly than all the nationalist pieties about fighting for the sake of the sacred motherland.

Some uncontrolled adolescent lust was at work here.  The tank and artillery commanders could not have seen what they were hitting. It was all as abstract and as satisfying as playing the machines in video arcade. It didn’t even seem to bother the largely Serb commanders that a significant percentage of the population being bombed, perhaps as many as 20 percent, were ethnic Serbs (maybe as high as 33%). Now many of them lie on the city’s outskirts beneath one of the bare, nameless crosses in a mass grave.”

 

Here is a building that speaks to the violence. It is filled with bullet holes from that conflict. For some reason, the owner chose not to fix it up.

 

They said they wanted to prevent desecration, but how could anyone say that the destruction they inflicted on their own city was anything but desecration?  It reminded me of the American soldier, standing inside a city completely demolished, hardly a building left, thousands killed, many more injured, who said what the coalition forces did in Fallujah was “a great victory”. Calling that a great victory is a great desecration.

 

Vukovar was like that. Almost every building destroyed. The few that remained were pocked with bullet holes and artillery holes, like the one above. And the Flower House that now looks like this:

 

 

The city was defended by 1,800 lightly armed soldiers of the Croatian National Guard together with some civilian volunteers.  They fought against as many as 36,000 JNA soldiers and Serb paramilitaries equipped with heavy armour and artillery. During the battle, shells and rockets were launched into the town at a rate of 12,000 a day. At the time it was the fiercest and most protracted battle seen in Europe since 1945. Sadly, that record was soon exceeded by the siege of Srebrenica during the Bosnia segment of the Yugoslavian Wars. As a result of the 87-day siege of Vukovar it became the first city in Europe to be completely destroyed since the Second World War. 

When Vukovar fell on November 18, 1991, several hundred soldiers and civilians were immediately massacred by the victorious Serbians. There was no reason for the slaughter. They were fellow citizens. The Croatians also discovered a mass grave with more than 900 bodies. More than 3,000 people were killed, and 20,000 civilians had been expelled. This was deep ethnic cleansing of non-Serbians. Of course, many Serbs who lived there were also killed by their fellow Serbs from Serbia. Massacres are rarely neat and tidy.

 

Another interesting phenomenon, considering the extreme bloodiness of the war, was that even though the two sides were often referred to as “Croatian” and “Serbian” or “Yugoslav”, Serbians and Croatians as well as many other of Yugoslavia’s national groups fought on both sides. There was never a pure ethnic division.  What were they fighting for?

After the war, several Serbian leaders were charged with war crimes, including their leader Slobodan Milošević who unfortunately died in prison before the trial concluded. Others survived long enough to be tried and convicted.

Even though Serbia “won” the battle the war exhausted them so completely, that after the war they were unable to continue the war with other belligerents. Not only that but Vukovar only remained in their hands until 1998 when it was peacefully reintegrated into Croatia. Clearly, all those deaths and injuries accomplished nothing!

Many mines were left behind after the fighting died down.  A minefield left as a defence against Serbians.   A million or more mines left in Balkans.  A reminder of war. A deadly reminder that would haunt the area for decades.

Since the end of the war the town has been rebuilt with few scars of war, but the psychic scars remain. The communities to some extent remain deeply divided. The town has also never regained its former prosperity. Destroying a town to save it, is rarely a good policy.

 

As we walked through Vukovar I was surprised to see how much of the city had been completely restored. The buildings were freshly plastered and painted. Most of the bullet holes were covered up. Some buildings however, laid out their wounds for us to see. I wondered why.

Was it stubborn pride to show us how they had suffered? I don’t know but I think it is important for us to see it and recognize it. And try to avoid a repetition of it.

Vukovar: When a Demon becomes God

 

 

The Flower House

Almost all the buildings in the city of Vukovar in Croatia  were completely destroyed. A few were left riddled with bullet holes.

 

I had read about Vukovar years ago in the two books by Michael Ignatieff and Tony Judt that I have referred to in these posts.  I have often thought about that war between brother states. I wanted to see the city. I thought it was important to understand it. It could happen here in Canada or in the United States.

 

Croatia had not been independent in 1,000 years until it declared its independence from Yugoslavia in1991 and then got tangled up in war with Serbia, also a former Republic of Yugoslavia as was Croatia, really a brother state.

 

An early skirmish in the 5 wars of the former Yugoslavia in what became briefly, Serbia, was the fight for Vukovar that was part of Croatia. Serbia, at great cost, temporarily “won” the war and gained control of Croatia, but that did not last long. It is now again part of Croatia. Why all the killing then? What were all those deaths for? Who knows? Maybe God. Not I.

 

Vukovar was once the Hapsburg episcopal seat. It was located directly on the Danube River and we were fortunate to visit it on this trip through the Balkans. As Michael Ignatieff said in his book Blood and Belonging,

 

“In 1991 it became the Croatian Stalingrad. Throughout the autumn, the Croatian national guard defended it to the last street against the heaviest artillery bombardment seen in Europe since 1945.”

 

They fought valiantly but eventually succumbed to the barrage until November 1991 the Yugoslav National Army (‘JNA’) which was dominated by Serbs, together with Serbian paramilitaries “liberated” the town. The “liberation” was much like the liberation of Fallujah in Iraq by coalition forces led by Americans where crumbled and flattened buildings stood behind the fighters as they drove around the city. Liberation, like beauty, is definitely in the eyes of the beholder. When the City of Vukovar was “liberated” by the Serbs there was, as Ignatieff said, “nothing left to liberate but a devastated ruin.”

 

 

C.S. Lewis, who was a wise man, said this about love of country: “We all know now that this love [nationalism] becomes a demon when it becomes a god.” He was referring to Nazism, but really it has much broader application. It can apply to any form of extreme nationalism, no matter where it is found. It can apply to Serbia, or Croatia, or Nazi Germany, or the United States, or Canada. No one is immune.

 

Lewis made another important point about love of country. And this attitude is becoming more and more common in places like the United States and Canada. This is the attitude that our ancestors were uniquely great. Many of us want to take photoshop to history to eliminate the flaws. Lewis realized that “the actual history of every country is full of shabby and even shameful doings.” No country is purely good. We must never forget that. If we do forget it, we don’t really love our country; we love a mirage. We love fake news. As well, if we forget this obvious fact, we begin to nurture a debilitating sense of superiority that can shred our own decency. We can become what we hate. Lewis also said, with such an attitude, “If our country’s cause is the cause of God, wars must be wars of annihilation. This is what happens when a false transcendence is given to things which are very much of this world.” In particular, we must guard against using this false sense of superiority as an unjustified basis for cruelty or exclusion.

As Bob Dylan, another very wise once said: “You don’t count the dead with god on your side.” That is what we must guard against.

 

In one house, [shown above] which locals referred to as “the flower house,” the holes from bullets and artillery were resplendent. Apparently, the owner had tried to rebuild it but despite repeated efforts to get a building permit and constantly being rebuffed by the local council, he decided to let it be.  All he did was place a large number of flower pots around it, hanging from every window. I guess he was trying to say, ‘Take your permits and shove them.’

Nothing can grow in the Valley of Bones other than hate. And maybe a few potted flowers.