Yesterday marked the 14^th anniversary of “Operation Storm”, the Croatian army offensive that exiled more than 250,000 ethnic Serbs from Croatia. Although exact figures are still disputed, it is believed that around 2,000 Serbs were killed, with an estimated 1,200 of those being civilians. Approximately 20,000 Serb-owned homes in Croatia were burned. Three former Croatian generals are currently standing trial at the Hague Tribunal for crimes committed during Operation Storm. They are: Ante Gotovina, Ivan Čermak and Mladen Markač.

For Croatians, the operation was a key military victory that allowed them to recapture Serb-held territory. Even though the Croatian president has stripped the generals on trial in the Hague of their military medals, Croatians celebrate August 4^th every year as a state holiday dubbed “Day of Gratitude to the Homeland Defenders”. In Serbia, the country mourns the victims of the military operation.

The diametrically opposed commemorations of the day definitely demonstrate how divisive war can be, but instead of focusing on the fact that atrocities were committed on all sides during the Yugoslav war, I wanted to write about Operation Storm to once again showcase Women In Black’s steadfast dedication to solidarity with all victim’s families. Two of WIB’s most active members attended the commemoration service at St. Marko’s Church in Belgrade. Although they told me that the service has become increasingly politicized, with a priest devoting most of his liturgy to talk about how Kosovo is the “heart” of Serbia, WIB does not discern between victims. A victim is a victim, whether he or she was Bosnian, Croatian, or Serbian, and although WIB might not agree with how the commemorations are conducted, remembering every single victim who died due to actions motivated by nationalism and militarism is of utmost importance.

The two WIB members were approached at the service and told that the police would escort them on their walk back since they had been identified as “targets”. It’s really a shame that some allow their hate to infiltrate even the most solemn of occasions, such as a service for victims of war atrocities, and capitalize on tragedy in order to promote dangerous nationalist rhetoric, but that is unfortunately the reality WIB members face in Serbia. Yet, as always, they persevere and refuse to allow hate to interfere with their commitment to peaceful commemoration of all victims of war crimes, regardless of national boundaries.

Activism is one of those words that usually conjures strong images in the minds of those who hear it. The word is often associated with protests, marches, demonstrations, strikes, slogans, and chants. Of course, every thing I just listed most definitely constitutes very important forms of activism, but my time at WIB has taught me that activism is far more nuanced and personal than the most oft-cited examples of the word. From our interviews I’ve learned that most WIB members do not define their activism by particular actions they have taken but rather by the state of mind they inhabit and by the approach they take to the world around them.

The five minute video below will allow you to hear these views first hand, but one of my favorite articulations of activism as an all-encompassing approach to life comes from Svencka, a socio-linguistics professor in the town of Novi Sad who explained that she is an activist because she uses her professional position in academia as a means of dismantling patriarchy in our everyday language. Some might fail to consider her an activist because she is not marching and chanting against patriarchy every day, but this simplistic notion of activism fails to realize that people like Svencka act to bring social change in more subtly subversive ways. Being here has really helped me define what activism means to me and what kind of an activist I would like to strive to be throughout my life. I hope the video below will prompt you to think about what activism means to you.

The very last comment in the video is perhaps not the most uplifting, but I chose to end the video with those words because to me, they portray the very real dilemmas of those who approach activism as a constant, all-encompassing endeavor. Such an approach is draining, especially when the changes one is working toward seem distant and unlikely to occur. Women In Black activists have been going strong since 1991, but it’s important to consider the emotional toll such work can take.

How do I blog about genocide? That’s the question that’s been on my mind since I returned from the Srebrenica genocide commemoration that was held on July 11th. How can I possibly describe what it’s like to see casket after casket after casket after casket after casket after casket after casket after casket being carried by family members? How could I do justice to the experience of holding the wrinkled hand of a Bosnian woman who lost both of her children during the war.  I am afraid that anything I write will come off as trite, but the truth is, there is nothing trite about Srebrenica. Grief and sorrow still envelop the place, yet the love that I experienced at Srebrenica will stay with me just as much as the pain that I felt.

We have been asking all of the network members we interview what they see as the relevance of Women In Black now that the war is over. Across the board, everyone has said that they feel that WIB’s work is of particular (some say even greater) importance now. Being at Srebrenica with WIB really illustrated this for me. Fourteen years after the genocide was committed, and WIB is still the only bus that travels to the commemoration from Serbia. We had the opportunity to meet United States Congressman Turner from Dayton, Ohio and his wife, Laurie, at the commemoration, and she told us that there was an audible collective gasp when WIB walked into the memorial grounds. Their presence and solidarity with the victims’ families is so precious. It proves that not all individuals allow their country’s nationalist and hateful rhetoric to define them- some resist and allow their humanity to prevail.

I saw this the day before the commemoration as well as WIB held their annual Srebrenica vigil in Belgrade. Members of Obraz, an extremely nationalist group that counts Mladic as a hero, surrounded the vigil site. The police served as a barricade between the vigil and the Obraz members, yet their profane shouts were audible throughout the vigil. They said unimaginable things such as “we will rape you with your roses”, “black whores”, and “go back to Bosnia”. Never have I been confronted with such hate so directly. I simply could not process it. My mind stopped working. Obraz was hate and the WIB members were love. Never before had I seen a contrast so clearly. One of the WIB activists told me that she was unaffected by the cries of Obraz because she was there to focus on the commemoration of the victims of the genocide. She knew one victim personally, so she focused all her energy and thoughts on commemorating that individual, overpowering the hateful cries of Obraz. That is love. That is Women In Black.

I hope the pictures and videos below will give you a better sense of WIB’s dedication to commemorating the Srebrenica genocide.

Srebrenica Vigil 2009

Srebrenica vigil

Rose circle

Srebrenica Prayer

Rose and Vigil

WIB Srebrenica solidarity flowers

Although the entire conference was full of interesting, reflective, and thought-provoking comments and dialogue, two hours were devoted solely to dialogue between the conference participants. The issue of guilt seemed to dominate the conversation. Stasha spoke at great length about the contradictions inherent in a feminist ethics of care. She has been criticized by many feminists for championing a feminist ethics of care that entails asking for forgiveness from the victims of war crimes perpetrated by Serbs. Some feel that focusing on guilt and forgiveness and “taking care of others” reinforces patriarchal notions of how women should behave and feel. I think Women In Black Serbia somewhat resolves the “problem” by welcoming male members. For them, the feminist ethics of care is not about how women should behave, but about how human beings should behave. As one participant noted, they want their empathy to be “perceived as a form of civil society”.

The exchange that most vividly stands out in my mind from the conference is the following:

C. Kumar (Special guest and international coordinator of women’s courts, which I urge you to check out here): “It is important to not allow guilt to become paralyzing. If we are non-state actors, why are we taking on the burdens of state actors such as the military and the crimes they committed. I can still go to Srebrenica out of love, instead of out of guilt. Of course, I could never put myself in your shoes.”

Stasha: “The context of the specific situation in the Former Yugoslavia is extremely important to consider.”

Mariya (WIB activist): “Asking for forgiveness is part of a tradition that is deeply rooted in this area. Yes, it is patriarchal, but we are changing this aspect of the habit. There (in Srebrenica), I am perceived as a member of that nation (Serbia). They see me as part of a mess that is not individualized, so when I go there as part of that mess, the first thing I must ask for is forgiveness. This is the first contact I have with these women, so the first thing I must ask for is forgiveness.”

I understand Kumar’s concern about guilt becoming paralyzing. When she said that, I immediately thought of the picture below.

hunger

The Pulitzer prize winning photographer, Kevin Carter, committed suicide shortly after taking the photo. Although no one can know the exact reasons for his decision, many have speculated that he did it because he simply could not bear the guilt he felt for not having been able to do anything for that child. I often think about that picture and about Kevin Carter. Even though I know I could never feel the specific emotions he was experiencing, sometimes I think that I can feel his despair, and I wonder why more people aren’t going mad from guilt and horror as Kevin Carter did. However, Kevin Carter’s guilt ultimately did paralyze him- it rendered him so hopeless that he took his own life, curtailing any possible actions he could have taken to redress the problems he saw in the world.

I don’t see WIB members as heading in that direction of extreme paralysis. That is why they are so remarkable- they are unbelievably strong and resilient. Further, they do not simply dwell on their guilt- they act upon it and take actions such as traveling to Srebrenica and asking for forgiveness from the families of the victims in order to stand in solidarity with them. I do think Kumar is right in that WIB members are somewhat obsessive about their guilt, but in a society where the majority of the population is either in total denial of the crimes that were committed or feels no guilt about them, I think WIB members feel that they have to compensate for all the guilt those people don’t feel. It’s not fair. WIB members didn’t do anything. They didn’t perpetrate those crimes. They were opposed to them from the beginning. As Kumar said, they are non-state actors. Yet, the state committed the crimes in their name. As Mariya’s comments demonstrate, WIB members understand that they are often perceived by those in Bosnia as being part of the nation of Serbia. Ironically, one of the best ways that they can distinguish themselves from the state that committed such horrible crimes is by taking ownership of those crimes and asking forgiveness for them.

I hope that one day WIB members can go to Srebrenica out of love and free of guilt, but for now, I think the Serbians who travel there and the Bosnians who graciously receive them are both helping each other by going through a process of open forgiveness. As Stasha said, solidarity is not about charity, and it’s okay for the Serbian women to admit that visiting the families of victims helps to relieve their feelings of shame and guilt just as it is okay for the families of victims to admit that the fact that WIB members visit them greatly strengthens them (a Bosnian woman who hadn’t been to Serbia in 20 years was at the conference, and she said, ‘it gave me enormous strength that WIB came’). I see it as a mutually beneficial process that embodies the solidarity aspect of feminism.

The past few days have been extremely busy at WIB. Activists have been coming in from Spain, Italy, India, and Sweden, just to name a few places, in preparation for the trip to Srebrenica for the genocide commemoration. In July of 1995, 8,000 Bosniak men and boys were killed by units of the Army of Republika Srpska under the command of General Ratko Mladic. Srebrenica had been declared a “safe area” by the United Nations, and 400 armed Dutch peacekeepers were present at the time.

There are many events leading up to Saturday’s trip. Today, there was an all-day conference on the topic of transitional justice. It was awesome. I thought every single part of the day was fascinating. I will write more about different aspects of the conference in blogs in the near future, but for now, I wanted to focus on the play, entitled Crossing the Lines, that closed the conference. The conference was held at Dah Theater in Belgrade. The motto of Dah Theater is, “In the contemporary world, destruction and violence can only be opposed by the creation of sense”. Since their founding in 1991, the group has tried to address questions regarding the role theater should play in times of darkness. They tackle such questions through experimental theater, research, and workshops. The group strives to be independent, which has unfortunately but predictably (or unfortunately predictably) been a challenge throughout the years. Rumor has it that the current government wants to shut the group down for good.

There was a panel discussion with the actresses during the day, and it was clear that they were truly passionate about the power of art to change everything. Crossing the Lines is based on a Women In Black publication entitled “Women’s Side of War”, which chronicles in harrowing details the stories of women affected by the Bosnian war. For the play, around fifteen stories were selected from the book and adapted into a theater production. One actress commented, “the show helped me make peace with myself. With my country, with my feelings of guilt and responsibility.”

The first scene of the play

The first scene of the play

Although most of the play was in Serbian/Bosnian, the emotions were palpable. (sidenote: I am apparently still completely incompetent with my Serbian phone because even though I thought I had put it on silent, it went off during the play…mortifying!)  My words can’t possibly do the play justice, so suffice it to say that it was an extremely powerful play that really delved into the human aspects of the conflict. Even though Women In Black focuses more on direct activism while Dah Theater primarily utilizes theatrical tools, they share common goals and visions, so it was really cool and inspiring to see them partner to create such a moving work of art. I kind of saw it as a cycle of social action. Women In Black put together the book, members of Dah read it and are inspired to develp a play based on it, WIB members go to see the play and are in turn moved and inspired by the stories. At the end of the day, the stories still take center-stage. This was the third time one of the activists saw the play, and she said it was her best experience with it because she could really feel the emotions this time. She explained that the first time she saw the play, the actresses were so emotionally distraught with the subject matter in the days preceding their performances, that their performances became compeltely rational and void of emotion. They were afraid to allow themselves into their work. Yet, it seems like this is the rare professional endeavor where it is both welcome and necessary to allow personal emotions to permeate the craft.

The last scene of the play: "Salt"

The last scene of the play: "Salt"

The poem below is from “Women’s Side of War”:

Crossing the lines
Out of lines
Means different colors
Sounds
Ways
Crossing the days
The thoughts
Souls
Crossing every time
Every day
Crossing together
The senseless war
Crossing history
So They put the lines
Words of women’s future
Remind us
Remembering life in peace
Crossing the south and the north
The east and the west
Balkan
We walk across the earth
Out of lines
When we see wach other
We know
We are together
When we think of each other
Miles far from
Together
Remembering our dreams and goals
The wholeness
Despite lines and sides
Senseless war
Wear not alone
Imagine
Out of lines.

During our first week in Serbia, one of WIB’s activists passed away in Leskovac. The death came suddenly and unexpectedly and greatly affected WIB members. Shortly after the funeral, Stasha came to us with a long list of network members she wanted us to interview on camera. She explained that it was important to document the stories and experiences of the members in order to always have recollections of the people who have been a part of the organization. Although we knew from the beginning that our time here would mainly revolve around a video project, we weren’t sure if we would be making a documentary or short video stories, but we are now set on interviewing as many people as possible to build up WIB’s video archives. WIB has members who are skilled in video editing etc who will take over once we leave. So far, we have interviewed a dozen members and anticipate conducting around 30 interviews in total. It’s a project that really excites me and rarely feels like “work” since we basically have interesting and stimulating conversations with gracious network members who have had amazing experiences- not too shabby.

Last week, we interviewed two high level academics who have been involved with WIB since the beginning. Although pretty much everything they said was fascinating to me, I wanted to share their answers to the question, “what is your greatest memory associated with Women In Black” with you.

At the time, it was striking to me that they both essentially had the same answer to the question even though they were being interviewed separately. Looking back at the clips though, I really shouldn’t have been surprised. The experience was so powerful and truly showcased the bravery of WIB members. Since I spend so much time in the office with WIB members doing somewhat mundane things like drinking coffee or scheduling interviews, I forget just how brave these individuals really are. As Professor Dulic explained, WIB members really served as the “guinea pigs” or “punching bags” of Serbia for a time as they went against all the prevailing nationalist, militaristic, and fascist tendencies. Yet, as Professor Vodinelic pointed out, WIB members never contemplate giving up- they get back up and persevere, and that’s why they’re still here today.

On another note, I wanted to touch on a comment Professor Vodinelic made about the “tacit support” of the police. The relationship between WIB and the Serbian police is complex and ever-evolving, I doubt I’ll come to fully understand it before I leave, but I have picked up some insight from talking to various WIB members. As Professor Vodinelic explained, the police were much more sympathetic with the opposition than with WIB in the early days- to the point of being accomplices in inciting violence on the demonstrators. Today, a good number of police officers accompany WIB to every demonstration/protest. On the surface, the reason is “protection”, and some members have said that the police have recently done a good job of keeping troublemakers away. However, the police also film every WIB activity. They claim that it’s to protect WIB by having footage of any incident that may occur. Stasha and others have no doubt that the police are actually filming to monitor the activity of the group. The activists I spoke to stressed that they don’t have a problem with the officers as individuals, and they actually have developed relationships with some of them where they feel comfortable joking around with each other. Nevertheless, I think most WIB members would be hard pressed to consider the police allies although perhaps they don’t consider them enemies as they did before.

police

Police at a WIB street action in mid-June. Police are always present at WIB street actions. The relationship between police and WIB is complex.

Both of my parents were born and raised in Iran, so I have felt especially invested in the historic, heart-wrenching, and at times, horrific, events in Iran during the past week. I have been constantly checking liveblogs (I highly recommend Nico Pitney’s blog over at Huffington Post), mesmerized by the power of citizen journalism. I am overwhelmed by the courage young people my age (and of every age) are showcasing in Iran, a courage I doubt I will ever even begin to comprehend in my lifetime. The graphic and raw image of the young protester Neda dying captured on camera hasn’t left my mind since I watched it and probably never will.

Commentators are asking if Iran will be the next China or Zimbabwe, but being in Serbia, a country that has struggled to find its footing after bringing down its own oppressive regime only a few years ago, is really coloring how I see the events in Iran. In interviews I’ve watched with leaders of the resistance movement in Serbia, they explain how many people did not want to get involved at first because they didn’t know what the alternative to Milosevic would be. In time, they were convinced that, first things first, Milosevic had to be brought down. The catalyzing moment in Serbia was when Milosevic rejected claims of a first-round opposition victory in elections for the presidency in September 2000, a situation somewhat similar to that in Iran today. The people had had enough. They refused to accept the state line any longer and took to the streets. Was the opposition candidate perfect or ideal? No, but the people felt that it was time for their voices to be heard.

the toppling of Milosevic's regime

the toppling of Milosevic's regime

The following quote by a female architect in Iran sums up what I believe is a similar sentiment in Iran:  “Many criticize us and wonder what does Mr. Mousavi have that is so special? They argue that after all he is one of the many in that corrupt system of the Islamic Republic and will never act against it. My argument is that this is not about Mousavi, but about people realizing that they are not followers like a herd of sheep that goes anywhere it is summoned to go. They will know that the individual will does matter and that their actions can be effective and can speak louder than any specific person; this to me is the most important aspect of these events. Now either Mousavi or anyone else who will end up in power, they will have the understanding of what people want and what they are capable of, and how they can voice their requests. This is the significant and important step and now that Mousavi has chosen to go ahead, we will support him.”

And so the Iranian people have had enough, and they are bravely fighting for their rights, for their voices, for justice. Of course, I am full of hope, but at the same time, being in Serbia has created a set of fears and anxieties about the future of Iran I doubt I would otherwise have. In 2003, Prime minister Zuran Djindic, who many Serbians saw as a statesman of hope who could bring a brighter future, was assassinated. Since then, many politicians from the Milosevic era have found their way back to power.

We were in Northern Serbia last week interviewing a WIB activist, and her friend was curious to hear our impressions of the Serbian people. He asked if we saw the Serbian people the same way he did. I told him I didn’t quite understand what he meant, and he responded, “well, I think we are a….what’s the word….raw? rugged?…people now.” As we continued talking, I realized the word he was looking for might have been “broken”. They fought so hard for change that now that what they have isn’t what they expected, the will to fight again is simply not there. My statements are based on limited conversations with a specific subset of the population, but I have been really affected by their despair. The road to freedom can be long and arduous, but it seems that maintaining that freedom might be the true challenge. No individual should feel broken as a result of the broken state of his or her nation. I can only hope that Iran will not be a China or a Zimbabwe or a Serbia, but an Iran, a model for people around the world who are tired of not being treated with the respect they deserve as human beings.

Iranian protesters marching in Tehran on June 15, 2009.

Iranian protesters marching in Tehran on June 15, 2009.

On Wednesday, June 10th, I had the opportunity to attend a session of the Special Court on War Crimes in Belgrade. Although I long ago learned that courtrooms are rarely as dramatic or exciting as they are often portrayed to be in popular American crime television shows, it was still striking just how ordinary the session was. The three judges spent approximately three hours questioning the witness, Draguten Ilic, who was testifying in support of the accused, Bracko Popovic. Popovic has been accused of war crimes in Zvarnik, Bosnia, where an estimated seven hundred local Bosnians were massacred in 1992.

I am a firm believer in the potential of transitional justice. If a post-conflict society truly desires to rebuild social trust, repair a fractured justice system, and build a democratic system of governance, transitional justice must play a significant role in the process. However, the system is far from flawless. The process can take years from start to finish as is apparent in this case: it has been seventeen years since the crimes have been committed. It takes time to gather evidence and build a case against a potential war criminal, especially when it is being done in a post-conflict society. We were sitting behind the relatives of the victims in the courtroom, and I just kept imagining what it must feel like to have to wait seventeen years for justice to even become a potential possibility.  Of course, no conviction or trial will ever bring back their loved ones, but justice can often ease the healing process when it comes to deep wounds. Punishing crimes not only deters future malpractice, but also respects the dignity of all those who where victimized in the past. WIB engages in a philosophy they refer to as “feminist ethic of care” and a “gendered approach to justice”. One of the most important aspects of this approach is reaching out to the families of victims. As Stasa explains, “We care how the victims feel in Belgrade, where the crime was masterminded. We make sure they feel protected and safe with us. We want to alleviate their fear. In this way, we build trust and friendship and a policy of peace by ‘little’ gestures, as opposed to the ‘big’ heroic policies of the dominant discourse.” I witnessed these “little” gestures as Simran and I accompanied Stasa and the victim’s families on a stroll through Belgrade.

Nevertheless, I can’t fathom the frustration they were feeling as they were sitting there listening to the witness deny any knowledge of wrongdoing. Even when the judges presented Ilic with documents bearing his signature that proved he was aware of certain military decisions, he responded by admitting it was his signature but claimed he had no recollection of having ever seen these documents before.  Most shockingly, Ilic, stated that it was the first time he was hearing of the crimes that Popovic was being accused of. Further, Ilic maintained that the victims could not have been civilians as his forces would have never shot them had they not had weapons on them. The judges seemed dubious of his arguments, but in a truly just system, all sides must be given a fair hearing.

Another aspect of the trial that stood out to me was the fact that Popovic stood up and questioned the witness himself even though he had attorneys representing him, something that would traditionally not be permitted in the American legal system. The questioning of Ilic took so long that the judges postponed the testimony of the second witness who was scheduled to also speak on June 10th to September 7th, further prolonging the process and the wait the relatives of the victims must endure on their long quest for justice and a semblance of peace.

It seemed like we were the only group there monitoring, which is somewhat disconcerting as such trials must be monitored by as many groups as possible to ensure fairness. Women In Black is contributing greatly to Serbia’s attempts at transitional justice by consistently and reliably monitoring all trials.

Last week I had the opportunity to travel to the Special Court on War Crimes in Belgrade with WIB. As part of their approach to transitional justice, WIB takes an active role in monitoring cases. Before I post my impressions of the experience, I wanted to put up a little summary of transitional justice, specifically in the former Yugoslavian context.

The goals of transitional justice are:

-Confronting the criminal past

-Removing the members and supporters of criminal regimes from high public office (although they haven’t been completely removed anywhere, this is critical to the process of confronting the past)

-Exposing the ideological justification of crimes- dismantling the political, social, and cultural mechanisms conducive to war.

-Creating conditions for citizens to reject the cultural patterns, and models that produced war and war crimes.

-Enforcing and maintaining lawfulness.

-Establishing the rule of law and democracy

The four pillars of transitional justice are tribunals and trials, truth and reconciliation commissions, reparations, and institutional reforms.

WIB publishes a great 100 page summary short book entitled “Transitional Justice: A Feminist Approach”. My summary is mostly extracted from the book:

transjust2

The history of international justice institutions can arguably be traced back to the establishment of the permanent International Court of Justice (ICJ) in The Hague in 1920, after the end of WWI, becoming the first international tribunal made up of permanent independent judges and authorized to address all international disputes. However, the USA protested against the prospect of this court trying German war criminals, so that process was ceded to the German judicial system.

In 1945, the Nuremberg Trials were initiated by the Allied Forces, sentencing 22 top ranking military and civilian officers from Nazi Germany. I will not go into detail about these trials, but they are integral to transitional justice in that they prosecuted the following crimes:

-Crimes Against Peace: planning, preparing, launching, and waging an aggressive war or a war that violates international covenants, agreements, and beliefs or participating in such a plan or conspiracy.

-War Crimes: violations of the laws and customs of war, i.e. killing or deporting the population, killing prisoners of war, pillaging public property, destroying homes, and plundering

-Crimes Against Humanity: killing, exterminating, deporting, or enslaving human beings; all forms of inhumane treatment; and prosecution based on religion, ethnic, or political grounds

The International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (or The Hague Tribunal or ICTY) was founded on May 25, 1993 through adoption of UN Security Council Resolution 827. According to the Resolution, The Hague Tribunal was founded with the objective of ‘ criminally prosecuting all individuals responsible for grave violations of international humanitarian law committed in the territory of the former Yugoslavia since 1991.”

Unlike the Nuremberg Trials, crimes against peace are not being prosecuted by the Hague Tribunal, an oft-cited criticism of ICTY, especially by activist groups (The Permanent People’s Tribunal, which is based out of Barcelona and does not have any legislative power but is established by civil society in hopes of creating an alternative legal system, also objected to the Hague Tribunal on these grounds). The Hague Tribunal has focused its activities on very high-ranking people and particularly infamous individuals responsible for crimes or other atrocities. So far, 161 individuals have been indicted for severe violations of international humanitarian law (94 cases have been concluded with 44 having a guilty verdict). Four individuals, including Slobodan Milosevic, have died in the detention unit of the Hague Tribunal.

In July 2002, the Security Council adopted a strategy by which the Tribunal would concentrate on prosecuting top level political and military leaders. Consequently, the investigation and prosecution of a large number of perpetrators of very serious violations of international humanitarian law became the exclusive responsibility of national criminal justice systems of the Yugoslav successor states. In Serbia, this task is mainly executed by the Special Court on War Crimes.

The Hague Tribunal is also notable in that it defined war rape as a war crime in its statute, the first time war rape has ever been defined in this way. The first conviction for rape as a war crime was pronounced in 2001 against three Serb men- the Foca case. The Hague Tribunal has planned to conclude its activities in 2010.

I wondered before coming here why the former Yugoslavia has not had Truth and Reconciliation Commissions such as the famous and successful one in South Africa. It turns out that there was such a commission here. It was founded in March 2001 and concluded its activities in 2003. Many believe it was doomed from the start since it strove to consider events that had taken place throughout the 20^th century, not just between 1991 and 1999. The Commission’s objective seems to have been to justify the policy of the Serbian regime. Because of this, the majority of its respectable members resigned shortly after its inception.

Sorry for the length of this post. I know you could probably just go to wikipedia and look up transitional justice, but I wanted to present the information as WIB does. I will post my impressions of transitional justice in Serbia soon.

During the network meeting in Leskovac, three films were shown. One was a UNIFEM produced film about rape in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, another was a Tamil film about the Tamil Tigers, and the third was a film entitled “I bi svjetlost” or “And it would be light”. The last film really struck a chord with me. The film was introduced by Christina, an American professor on a Fulbright here in Serbia who works closely with Women In Black. Christina showed the film after giving a lecture on militarism in the media, specifically focusing on the United States. She spoke a lot about the influence of television and how media frames our perception of the world.

The film was a great compliment to her talk as it was made to challenge audiences to view the war in Bosnia from a different perspective.The narrator of the movie described how the perpetrators of the war were being punished as the dominant worldview expects those who are bad or evil to be brought to justice. Yet, the movie asked, “why are there no courts or tribunals for acts of goodness?” There are stories of human goodness and valor in the Bosnian war, yet we focus solely on the evil. To this day, all the attention and controversy surrounds those who have been accused of committing or ordering atrocious crimes.

To make his point, the filmmaker highlighted a few incredible stories from the war. The first focused on a Serbian doctor named Dr. Stanic who saved the lives of his Muslim Bosnian coworkers by hiding them and lying for them. The Serbian forces would come to his hospital and ask if there were any Muslims there (the Serbians committed genocide against Muslim Bosnians), and Dr. Stanic would bravely say no, having hidden all the Muslims. Eventually, the Serbian forces found out about the doctor’s actions, and he was executed. The film interviewed many people who knew the doctor, including relatives and those whose lives were saved by his, and they all spoke of unassuming heroism. He never thought twice about committing his acts of kindness. Why are his acts not remembered and celebrated? Why is all the focus solely on the evil and the bad?

Another story highlighted a Croatian woman who lived in a Bosnian village and risked her life to feed and protect the Muslim inhabitants. She went as far as to stuff eggs in her bra to ensure her neighbors were well fed. Again, most people have never heard of this woman or her compassionate acts.History, as recent and fresh as it may be, is complex and constantly evolving by the way we frame it or choose to remember it.

By no means should the bad be ignored and justice forgotten, but I think the film made a compelling argument that there’s more to the story- an alternative framework that is not being explored but that I think could co-exist with transitional justice.  It made me think of the media’s portrayal of the recession in America. Of course, the recession is real and it’s bad, but by constantly reporting on how every minute segment of society is being negatively affected by the current state of the economy, the situation is exacerbated by creating a cycle of psychological panic. A friend told me a story about a family who had to sell all their furniture and belongings in order to be able to afford to keep their home. Someone bought it all and then gave it back to the family. Why are these stories not being told alongside those about trust fund babies who are being cut off from their parents? 

The film reminded me that it’s important to remember that the stories we are presented with greatly influence our perception of reality. Although it can often be difficult to do, I think seeking out alternative perspectives and histories is critical and should be done more frequently.