Cry Me a River at the East River
It was indeed a humbling image putting the Serbian president Aleksandar Vučić in a new light: sitting in the General Assembly at the United Nations, listening to the decision where the majority in attendance had voted for the new resolution. It established July 11 as the international day of remembrance of the genocide commited by Bosnian Serbs in the town of Srebrenica.
Germany was one of the countries who backed the initial proposal and it makes sense in the context of German relationship to their own past, especially the Holocaust and its aftermath. But it’s an approach that doesn’t work in the Balkans. Instead, the Serbian president behaved like Amy Winehouse in her song Rehab: they tried to make me go to rehab, but I said no,no,no. It’s a rehab from toxic historic mythology and moral corruption.
There he was, sobbing into the Serbian flag, after which he managed to pull himself together and deliver a speech dismissing the votes as incomplete. Curiously, that’s never really a problem when it comes to his own local elections if he’s on the ballot. After he won a new term in the top seat, those who hoped for a change had their dream shattered.
But they are still fighting for bits and pieces of public space they can preserve for their own cause. Which is increasingly shrinking, so you can almost compare it to early Christians in Roman catacombes. Mainstream public rhetoric reacted to the Resolution by insisting they’re not a genocidal nation and shouting it from the roofs. During the session at East River, you could hear church bells tolling in Belgrade and there were many flags in the streets.
The leader of Bosnian Serbs, Milorad Dodig, once again wagged his tail in his usual manner, but this time he amped it up: now, he’s announcing the seccession from Bosnia and Herzegovina once more. Of course, he used words like “peaceful” but if history has taught us anything, is that there’s no such thing when it comes to deep political rifts in the Balkans. If Germans wanted to lead by example here, they will inevitably fail. If history is the teacher of life as we were told, it’s main vehicle is revenge. Ratko Mladić, the Serbian warlord convicted at the Hague Tribunal, described the genocide as a retribution for the Ottoman invasion. That may have been 400 years ago, but hey, who’s counting? It’s hardly a surprise.
Both the Serbian president and Milorad Dodik heavily rely on Vladimir Putin’s backing and they’ve proved it by visits at the Kremlin and expressions of support. It didn’t make them very popular in the region. But it really doesn’t matter: that’s why it’s so absurd. They’re throwing the whole country under the bus and it seems almost impossible to stop. They’re untouched by the opinions of whatever is left of the liberal media in Serbia.
In Bosnia and Herzegovina, the foreign high representative Christian Schmidt is frequently the target of Dodik’s tantrums. He is painted in all shades of black as if he were Darth Vader. But I think it’s more likely the guy is now counting his blessings that he’s dealing with domestic issues in a small Balkan country instead of the turmoil in the Middle East.
It’s true: no nation is genocidal intrinsically or in its entirety. It’s equally true for Germany and for Serbia. Essentially, it’s a populist narrative used by leaders weaponising it for their own interests without getting their own hands dirty. It’s much easier to trigger violence in an unstable economy than a situation of relative comfort where people don’t want to stir the soup in order to enjoy their life so you keep them happy instead of sticking a hatpin into their butts. It’s hardly a coincidence that an economic crisis was the foreplay for the war in former Yugoslavia. When it all goes down the drain, old resentments come up, historical grudges you were raised to obsess about. You demand a culprit for the situation you’re in and they’ll gladly pull it out of their hat for everyone to see. Sooner or later, a spine or two will break and the show hits the road burning everything in its way.
The people in Srebrenica must be celebrating for having their inferno internationally validated in a manner beyond history books. On the other hand, those who claim not to be genocidal still don’t realise they’ve been taken for a ride which drives straight into a wall. Pushed through the mainstream political filter, it’s bordering on historic relativism and reluctance for introspection instead of pointing fingers outside. Since their pain is boosted by disappointment, vengeance and excuses, the Resolution might very well be the excuse for a new bloodshed at some time in the future. If this slow-burning fire escalates to its full potential, we might not have to wait for 400 years again. That’s a scary thought soothed only by my belief that right now, Serbia is hardly the main course on Putin’s menu.
The swamp formerly known as Twitter is spewing out hundreds of voices professing disgust and dismissal at the very idea of the Resolution. That was to be expected, just as others with the exact opposite opinion. It’s difficult to get out of this discourse try as one might, if you’re invested in it in any sort of way. Like a box full of snakes that will inevitably bite if you lift the lid. In the end, putting this memory into the international calendar doesn’t change anything substantially: the verdict has already been established. It’s an another effort of the East River power players to underline their appreciation and sympathies for the victims and their families. Instead of a resolution, a better word would be absolution.
Well, they’re not getting it. We have a saying here: no whining after fucking. And there’s been a lot of that. You can’t turn back time even if Cher would give it all to you. To paraphrase, we don’t love each other the way we used to do. It’s all a pile of papers that essentially nothing but virtue-signalling from those who had the power to put a stop to the horror in Bosnia and Herzegovina, but decided to turn a blind eye. Today that eye is crying, but to no awail. It’s not very different anywhere else. Just because it’s not in the headlines doesn’t mean it won’t be snowballing right into it while you’re busy picking apart an another hot topic. The rain train will be on the tracks again, with carriages full of their shock and condemnation.
The Serbian establishment is predictably fuming with disbelief and denial. All we can hope for is that the voices who fight for a different kind of Serbia keep their spotlight. When you’re stuck in the nationalist echo chamber it’s easy to lose your mind if you don’t focus on your purpose. It’s certainly a long haul. But it’s also a worthy pursuit that managed to survive even the assasination of Zoran Đinđić. Since I’m on good terms with several writers who are truly the face of the non-genocidal Serbia, Amy’s song perfectly describes the light at the end of their tunnel: yes, I’ve been black but when I come back, you’ll know, know, know. We already do, and we can’t wait.
