Serbia through the eyes of a train traveller (me)

Yesterday the train connection between Belgrade and Sarajevo was re-established, 18 years after being interrupted. This is great news to me, in a very selfish way. Soon I will be moving to Sarajevo and visiting Belgrade often and trains are by far my favourite transport.

It was by train that I first came to Belgrade, in May 2006. When I climbed down from the train, I saw that the station was packed with police. They were looking for Ratko Mladic. In the frontier between Hungary and Serbia, the train had already been searched by military. The idea that I might have travelled with Mladic amused me, absurd as it was. Later my friend Jelena and I tried to guess how he might be disguised, with me imagining Mladic conducting the train himself, while rather saw him dressed as an Hungarian peasant women, sitting quietly next to a bag of potatoes.

This was the 6th of May. Three days earlier, the EU Commission had suspended negotiations with Serbia for a Stabilization and Association Agreement, the first step towards EU accession (I remember watching the news on television while I waited for a connection to Budapest at Milan airport) over the fact that Serbia failed to fulfil its commitment to fully co-operate with the ICTY. On the following days, several police actions were undertaken, including this one at the Belgrade train station. My friend Dusan, who picked me up, grabbed my bag and rushed me out of there, saying that one never knows when thinks may heat up- I though he was joking. And that was my first impression of Serbia.

Some people were arrested, but the operations didn’t convince anyone, a mere show for outsiders. This was Kostunica’s rule. After the assassination of Zoran Djindjic in 2003, Kostunica was very very successful in exploiting the West’s sense of guilt for having put so much pressure for reforms. Presenting himself as a ‘moderate nationalist’, he received international support, and the EU opened, in November 2005, negotiations for the signature of the Stabilization and Association Agreement, despite the fact that the government was making a mockery of Serbia’s obligation to cooperate with the ICTY by replacing the policy of deporting those indicted by a policy of ‘voluntary surrender’.

Less than 2 years latter, I returned to Belgrade by train once again, this time from Zagreb (I went to Belgrade in the year in between, but not by train) . I was on my way to Pristina, where I had the chance to participate in the party of Independence. Back from Pristina, I could observe the frenzy of nationalism and violence to which Kostunica was leading the country. On the night that I left, I had to cross Belgrade from Vracar, where the Temple of Saint Sava is located to the train station. This was the epicentre of the riots following the government-organized ‘Kosovo je Srbija’ rally. The Embassy of the United States had just been arsoned and as  I walked among the crowd, I could see the McDonnalds in Slavija Square being ransacked and vandalized, people being beaten, public property, such as bus stations, rubbish containers, etc, being destroyed, people carrying stolen goods. At a certain moment, I was also threatened by one of the rioters, who saw that I had a camera and wanted to seize it. An older man ordered him to let me go after I said I was spanish. “Let her go, she’s on our side”, he said in English, and he obeyed immediately. The man had been following me and Jelena for a while, we had noticed him already (I was later told that he was most likely from the intelligence services). He was very polite when he asked us what were we doing there. We just said I was there just by chance, while he walked with us until we got to a calmer area.

Finally I got to the train. It was full of rioters, mostly young people who had travelled for free to Belgrade to participate in the rally. In my compartment, there was also an old man with an accordion. When a group of young boys and girls got in, carrying looted goods in plastic bags- Reebok trainers, clothes, wristwatches, cellphones, call cards- they told him to play ‘Tamo Daleko’ and sang with patriotic fervour. The old man was happy to be given such attention. They were 4 boys and 2 girls. One of them, the most bullish, then turned at me and ask me where did I come for. I thought of saying Spain, but then in case I needed to show any documents I would be uncovered. When I said Portugal, two others shouted ‘Cristiano Ronaldo’ and then I felt a bit less insecure. It goes without saying that they were drunk. They generously shared with me their cheap alcohol, something like a brandee, very bad, which I accepted not to upset them. One of the boys sat next to me and began chatting. He was the kind of guy that turns nostalgic when drunk, unlike the bullish, whose aggressiveness was hardly contained by the leader of the group, a quiet guy. I played dumb, an accidental tourist caught in an unfortunate situation. I never gave the slightest indication that I knew (a litlle bit of) Serbian or anything about Serbia, so very quickly the conversation with the ‘nice guy’ shifted to his personal life. I wasn’t scared, just angry to see how a generation had been corrupted by Serb nationalism, first under Milosevic as children, then under Kostunica as adolescents. Not everybody in the train were kids, tough, many were mature men dressed in military-stile camouflage clothing, and there was one totally dressed as chetnik, including the hat and the beard. When the train crossed the frontier the Croatian ticket collector was surprised to find me in the otherwise totally empty train. I’ll never forget the way he looked at me. He just looked and bounced his head and then I felt an enormous relief.

When I returned once again the following July, I was happy to see that something had changed in Belgrade. Serbia had a new government, after  having gone through general elections, which resulted in what I called the defeat of the intimidation strategy of Vojislav Kostunica and the radicals. The prospect of isolation that was offered by the nationalists was rejected  by the voters. The EU played a very important role in supporting democratic change in Serbia. It offered Serbia the Stabilization and Association Agreement and diplomats pushed the Socialist party to join the pro-EU block.

Everything was different in Belgrade. It was Summer, there was a warm environment, a feeling of hope for a new cicle, which was reinforced when, a few days after I left again, Radovan Karadzic was arrested and sent to the Hague. On my way back, I once again took the night train to Zagreb. In the station, Jelena and I were moved by the romantic scene of a very young couple running to each other and kissing. The girl had gone there to say goodbye, but the boy was getting late and she was getting anxious. It was a movie-like scene. I asked Jelena please when you make a film, you must find a way to include this scene, but then we agreed that it was a unique moment which we were fortunate to witness, ephemeral maybe but deeply emotional. On the train also everything was different. Instead of drunk rioters, in my compartment travelled an old Serb and a Croat in his 30s, who were very keen to explain me that they both spoke the same language, except that one called bread ‘hleb’ and the other ‘kruh’. Only the Croatian ticket collector was the same. He didn’t remember my face, of course, but I could never forget his moustache. I got back from Belgrade that Summer feeling that change was possible, and not only in Serbia. I feel nostalgic when I think of that trip, the warmth of Belgrade’s summer touched me deeply.

When I came back once again in the beginning of Autumn, the real Belgrade was back in place. Changes had happened, no doubt. The question then was would they take roots or would the enemies of a peaceful, democratic Serbia manage to undermine them. And how far would the new holders of power be willing and able to go?

It became very clear to me that there was no political will nor popular support for addressing the core problem of the persistence of nationalism in Serbia. Such problem could only be addressed by facing the past, that is, by looking at Serbia’s role in the destruction of Yugoslavia, because that’s the spring well from where ultra-nationalism drinks nowadays.

Situations like the threats against the Belgrade Pride parade and the murder of Frech citizen Brice Taton by nationalist extremists reveal how fragile are the basis of pro-european Serbia. The State was challenged and failed.

Now the B92 TV report ‘Insider’ reveals how the judiciary repeatedly, systematically failed to deal with the threat of extremist violence by youth groups, mostly organized around football clubs. The journalist who made this investigation, Brankica Stankovic and B92 were then the target of a number of serious threats, including rape and murder threats. Seven people were arrested in connection to these threats, but the fact is that the legitimate authorities of Serbia seem to be unable or unwilling to take vigorous action, restricting itself to reacting to open challenges in incidents that are likely to be repeated.

Nonetheless, Serbia seems is getting closer to EU accession.  Its citizens were granted a visa-free regime for the Schengen area and the Netherlands dropped its veto over the full implementation of the Stabilization and Association Agreement, following a favourable report about Serbia’s cooperation withe the ICTY, despite the fact that Mladic is still to be found.

While Bosnia is immersed in a political deadlock which nobody really knows how to overcome, Serbia seems to be evolving on the right direction, but there are many contradictory signs that indicate how precarious change is in Serbia.

The fact that the connection between Belgrade and Sarajevo was re-established now is one of the many contradictory signs of change in the region. The opening of this rail connection is a sign of hope, because trains bring common people closer. For me, it will be an additional opportunity to sense the pulse of both Serbian and Bosnian society.

The photo on top was taken by my friend Jelena Markovic and originaly published here.

The Swiss ban on minarets

Last Sunday, 28 November, the Swiss approved in referendum a ban on the construction of new minarets. While it is usually stressed that minarets are not an essential element in a mosque, this ban is an undeniable form of discrimination aimed against the Muslim community.

The construction of this 6 meters high minaret was the motivation for the launch of the referendum.

Switzerland is a very peculiar country, with unique political traditions. It has a much stronger tendency for self-isolation than any other country in Western Europe and the outcome of this referendum reflects that tendency.

In any society, religious buildings serve as visible markers of the presence of a community. In any town, the location, volume and style of each religious building reveals a lot about the religious community that it serves, but also about the society in which this community is integrated.

It is undeniable that the construction of religious buildings is often closely linked to demonstrations of power on the part of those who build them. Many examples come to my mind. The Sacré Coeur was built on the top of Montmatre after the defeat of the Commune of Paris. Overlooking the city, it was a powerful reminder of the triumph  of the conservative France, “la fille ainée de l’Eglise”. The Basilica of Saint Peter in the Vatican has on its frontspiece the family name of the Pope Paul V, Borghese. The siege of the Patriarchate of Lisbon, the Sé Catedral of Lisbon was built on the location of a mosque shortly after the Christian forces conquered it to the Moors (1147). The church underwent many transformations overtime and in the 1930s was restored to acquire  medieval aspect. This was part of the cultural policy of the dictatorial regime of Salazar in that phase, to enhance the ancestry of Portugal and its glorious past.

But the presence of religious buildings also reveals the ability of a society to cope with diversity. In Portugal, the first Synagogue to be built after the forced conversion of the Jews, inaugurated in 1904, is hidden in a courtyard behind another building, with no façade to the street, because the law did not allow non-Catholic worship places to have their entry visible from the street (the law nonetheless was a positive step away from centuries of total intolerance to other religions). An opposite example is the city of Sarajevo, where, within a few minutes walking distance, stand the Mosque, the Orthodox and Catholic cathedrals and the Synagogue. It was precisely this diversity that Serb nationalists tried to destroy (and, to a large extent, did succeed).

The construction of mosques as a demonstration of power is a goal pursued in many European countries by radical and conservative Muslims, who benefit from the financial support of authoritarian states like Saudi Arabia. The question of transparency over financial organization of religious organizations is a major issue in any democratic society, as the problems surrounding the pseudo-religion of Scientology have shown us. As with all human activities in a free society, the question of the abuse of religious freedom is very relevant for the balance and strength of democracy, and the challenge posed in specific by the Islamist political ideology, who appropriates the religious legacy of Islam to legitimize its totalitarian goals cannot be ignored.

But this is not what was put up for referendum. What was put up for referendum was a measure that aimed at the legalization of discrimination of one religion in particular. This was not about having safeguards against the misuse of religion for political purposes, and it wasn’t about the need to contain Islamic extremism either .

Many people have interpreted the outcome of this referendum as a reflex of people’s fear over the real or imagined threat of Islam. But, with the Muslims  comprising 5% of the total population and no recorded incidents with Islamic extremists, why should the Swiss be afraid?

This ban, after a xenophobic and openly racist campaign launched by the far right is rather a reflex of the Swiss tendency for self-isolation. By banning the construction of new minarets, what the Swiss are in fact saying is that they cannot tolerate the presence of Muslims to become visible.

The preservation of the beautiful skyline of Swiss towns has often been invoked. The landscape is undoubtedly one of the most important elements of Swiss collective identity. But, was Switzerland magnificent landscape under threat? So far, only four mosques had minarets, all of which of modest height. The controversy that lead to the referendum was about the attempt to prevent the construction of a 6 meters high minaret in the mosque of a small town. As you can see in the picture, the impact on the skyline is rather modest. Even if the ban had been rejected, any projected minaret would have to comply with urbanistic regulations which are, in Switzerland, rather strict. So, had the ban not been approved, that wouldn’t mean that minarets would grow like mushrooms after the rain.

A dangerous ideal of purity underlies this ban. This happened in Switzerland, a small country  with an atypical political system, but  it reflects  and resounds on a growing phenomenon of xenophobia around Europe, of which the Muslims are now the main target.

NORWEGIAN DIARY: Café Turco’s baby brother.

It’s been more than tree months since I’ve moved to Norway. I’ve been meaning to write about my experience in this country, but every time I think about publishing something, I have the feeling that it’s too early and that my impressions about Norway and the Norwegians are still distorted by my own difficulties in adapting to a different culture and climate.

Overall, I never cease to be positively surprised by the good will of people in general, by their placid way of life, by the way they face parenthood, and by the women-friendly environment at work.

But, as any other country, Norway has a lot of positive things, but also a lot of paradoxes and contradictions, which I am only beginning to grasp. The most disturbing is the ‘jante loven‘, which I would define as the dark side of egalitarianism. Another negative feature is  the peculiar blend of Norwegian bureaucracy, and I also impressed by the relationship people have with the state here, of which the state monopole over wine and spirits is one of the most visible signs.

I came to Norway to study the Balkans. Some people find it very strange, and  I remember that once an idiot in another blog joked that maybe I was coming to look for mass graves. I came because I here I got good conditions to work and a supportive environment, but also for the challenge of knowing a country so different from mine.The field work for my Phd thesis will of course be made in the Balkans. I am now focusing mainly on Bosnia and I am planning to move to Sarajevo by the end of this academic year.

A friend once asked me what how could I explain my attraction for  peninsulas. Indeed, it is very interesting to look at Europe from its peripheries,  while most people tend to adopt the perspective of the centre. Being myself a creature of the South, heading North is allowing me to have a more new perspective on what we Europeans have in common (0r not).

Of all of this I am planning to write about, in due time. Norway i a country gifted by an astonishing natural beauty, so for now, I would like to share with my readers my vision of Norway through my photos. Therefore, I have created a new blog, my Norwegian Diary, where I will regularly post some of my photos. You are welcome to visit it!

November, 9th as European Legacy

Today Germany is marking a double anniversary, the fall of the Berlin Wall and Kristallnacht.

Twenty years ago, on 9 November 1989, the fall of the Berlin Wall was achieved when the Berliners themselves literally started to pull it down. That night symbolized a turning point in Europe, revealing the irreversible character of the democratic revolution in Eastern Europe and the end of the division of the continent. This was a happy event, whose joy I shared at a distance (I was 14 then), and from which I learned that peaceful change is possible, and that that what, at one moment is taken for granted may always be changed, because the future is not written in advance.

On the same date, 51 years earlier, Kristallnacht, the night of the broken glasses, represented the beginning of a new phase in the nazi persecution of the Jews, from systematic discrimination to physical damage, which would achieve its climax in the ‘Final Solution’, the physical extermination of the Jews on the territories under German control. This date reveals how important it is to look at the Holocaust, and indeed at all genocides, as a process, and to learn how to recognize its earlier signs in order to pre-empt its culmination in mass murder. I believe that understanding the Holocaust is key to understanding genocide in general, because one of the great lessons of the Holocaust was that it taught subsequent genociders that the unthinkable is possible.

Both events are now part of the German historical legacy, but also part of our wider European legacy.

The end of the bipolar division of Europe provided an unprecedented opportunity to accelerate and deepen the process of European integration, which had its roots on the need to overcome the historical tensions between nations in the aftermath of the Second World War. Through the European Union and NATO, Europe embarked on a dynamism of integration through the still ongoing parallel processes of enlargement and deepening.

But this date also marks the anniversary of the destruction, sixteen years ago, of Mostar’s Old Bridge. Despite the momentum created by the democratic revolution of 1989, European leaders lacked the boldness that was required to stand up to the challenges that the new times were presenting them, proving thus that the lessons of the broken glasses were yet to be fully learned. Faced with the dissolution of Yugoslavia and with war and genocide, the best Europe had to offer was so-called peace plans consecrating territorial division along ethnic lines, precisely the opposite of what was being sought by the process of European Integration.

Sixteen years later, the bridge has been built again, using, as much as possible, the same old stones that, for centuries, brought together both sides of the Neretva river. However, Mostar is still a divided city, and Bosnia-Hercegovina a divided country, and the recent failure of the EU-led Butmir initiative for Bosnia highlights the lack of credibility of the EU when it comes to playing a major role in international politics.

Together, the three events reveal much of our common European legacy, but, more than that, they should inspire us to find a better way ahead, one in which European political decision makers, but also us citizens, would abandon the  mentality of a small-town grocer, and assume with boldness our place in the world and our responsibilities towards the values of freedom and development that stand on the base of the European Integration project.

(Note: Usually I only publish here my own photos, but since I haven’t yet been to Mostar, I had to ‘pick’ one somewhere in the internet.)

Bosnia now: the past and the future facing each other.

On the same day that the trial of Radovan Karadzic began in the Hague, war criminal Biljana Plavsic, who succeeded Karadzic as President of Republika Srpska was released from prison, after having served seven of the eleven years to which she had been convicted by the ICTY for her role on the war in Bosnia.

These two events occurred just a few days after the failure of the Butmir talks, the latests initiative to overcome the current political situation in Bosnia, which some define as crisis, but I prefer to define as deadlock, because, unlike in a crisis, the current situation perfectly serves on of the parts involved. While the current situation doesn’t satisfy anyone, doing nothing, leaving things as they are is clearly beneficial for the leadership of the Serb entity.

Headed by Milorad Dodik, the government of the Republika Srpska is actively working towards the disintegration of Bosnia by systematically obstructing the process of decision making, proving by its behaviour that any power-sharing is worthless when the actors are not willing or at least complied to share power.

Upon her release from prison in Sweden, Bijlana Plavsic flew to Belgrade in the jet of the government of the Republika Srpska, and upon her arrival, was warmly received by Milorad Dodik. The image of this encounter are striking: the past and the future holding hands, like a mother and her son.

Both were, at a certain point, considered by the international actors involved Bosnia as moderate politicians worth backing. This tells a lot about the fallacy of the opposition between moderates and hardliners when it comes to Serb nationalism. Their moderation, Plavsic’s as well as Dodik’s, proved to be merely tactical. Through their seemingly moderate policies, when compared to those of Radovan Karadzic and his supporters, they gave a very important contribution to advance the cause of pursuing with the goal of disintegrating Bosnia and reinforcing the homogeneous ethnic composition of the serb entity.

During the war, Plavsic, aka the ‘iron lady’, was known by her extreme nationalism and her outright racism. A Professor of Biology, Plavsic had no problem in abusing the authority of science to justify her racism, by presenting ‘ethnic cleansing’ as “a perfectly natural phenomenon” and claiming that the Bosnian Muslims were “genetically deformed material”:

“That’s true [i.e. her imagination that the Bosnian Muslims were originally Serbs]. “But it was genetically deformed material that embraced Islam. And now, of course, with each successive generation this gene simply becomes concentrated. It gets worse and worse, it simply expresses itself and dictates their style of thinking and behaving, which is rooted in their genes…“

This was the ‘moderate’ politician who, after the war the international actors chose to back. And when she voluntary surrendered after being indicted by the ICTY, her ‘moderation’ seemed to be confirmed.  Thus, Plavsic had as her defense witnesses prominent figures such as Madeleine Albright and Carl Bildt, whose testimony was an important mitigating factor for the judges (here, see note 20). Plavsic went as far as showing remorse and appealing for reconciliation, and the sincerity of her words was confirmed by the statement of the witness Elie Wiesel.

In fact, by pleading guilty on the count of persecutions as a crime against humanity, she managed to obtain a bargain in which the prosecution dropped all other charges, including two counts of genocide. Her plea thus represented not a positive step towards reconciliation, but a lost opportunity to prove that a genocide was committed in Bosnia, by the Serb forces against the Muslims.

Early this year, Plavsic retracted her confession, in an interview to the Swedish Vi magazine :

“I sacrificed myself. I have done nothing wrong. I pleaded guilty to crimes against humanity so I could bargain for the other charges.”

By pleading guilty on crimes against humanity so that she could get away with genocide, Biljana Plavsic sacrificed herself for the sake of the Nation, but her sacrifice was obviously not as hard as the one she thought it was right to impose on her own co-nationals. Indeed, for the sake of ‘Greater Serbia’ considered that the dead of as much as half the total ethnic Serb population would be a worthy sacrifice:

“There are 12 million Serbs and even if six million perish on the field of battle, there will be six million to reap the fruits of the struggle“.

So, through her ’sacrifice’, not only she managed to get her sentence substantially reduced, but she also avoided a conviction of genocide that would contribute to highlight the illegitimacy of the very existence of Republika Srpska.

If we look at the concept of legitimacy as springing from the founding act of any politically organized society, what do we see? We see the need to deny genocide, because legitimacy is the glue that binds people together in a politically organized society, while genocide is the ‘original sin’ upon which Republika Srpska was built. If someone like Bijlana Plavsic, or Milorad Dodik for that matter, chose to oppose the warmongering faction led by Karadzic, it was because they understand that violence was merely an instrument among others to achieve a goal.

Until now, the only conviction on the account of genocide by the ICTY was the case of General Radislav Krstic, the commander of the Drina Corps. However, his conviction for genocide covered solely the case of the Massacre of Srebrenica. The chance to get a conviction for genocide on a wider area than Srebrenica was also missed at the trial of Momcilo Krajisnik, in which the prosecution failed to establish the Krajisnik genocidal intent ( read Bosnia’s ‘accidental’ genocide, by Edina Becirevic. Krajisnik was convicted to 27 years in prison, but acquitted of genocide, and as a result of his appeal, the sentence was reduced to 20 years, overturning the convictions in several charges.

This appeal revealed major flaws in the prosecution’s strategy and sparked the fear that similar or even greater difficulties will be faced to convict Radovan Karadzic of genocide(about this debate, read ‘What Karadzic Prossecutors learnt from Krajisnik Trial’, by Simon Jennings).

Thus, bearing in mind the failure of the International Court of Justice (about this, read ‘The ICJ and the decriminalisation of Genocide‘, by Marko Attila Hoare, and ‘Vital Genocide documents concealed‘, by Florence Hartmann), and the fact that Ratko Mladic is still at large and most likely will never be captured, the trial of Radovan Karadzic represents the last chance to establish through international law, the full extent of the genocidal character of the aggression against Bosnia-Hercegovina (about this, it’s worth reading this post by Kirk Johnson at Americans for Bosnia).

The stakes are high. The result of this trial cannot but have an important impact on the Republika Srpska. It is not at all a matter of ‘collective guilt’, since guilt is always individual, but it is a matter of political legitimacy. The political identity of the serb entity is being built now as if it was an alien land, but the past keeps coming back and the urge for justice won’t go away so easily, as the case of the Spanish Civil war highlights.

However, for something to change in the current trend of ’smooth’ disintegration, it is necessary that what is called the international community, meaning the relevant international  players in Bosnia, should make a serious reflection on what went wrong on their approach both of the conflict and of the post-conflict phase. That reflection is not at all happening and the result is clearly shown in the predictable failure of the Butmir talks.

Nonetheless, I do believe there are grounds for hope, for the simple reason that the future is not written in the stars but is rather built in the present and can always be changed. I believe real change must come from within the Bosnian society. Imposed solutions have already proved their limits, but international support for change will always play a crucial role. But for change to happen, we must stop waiting for a miracle, because time is not working on our side.

Danilo Kiš, the last Yugoslav writer.

Thanks to Richard Byrne at Balkans via Bohemia, I came to know that today we are commemorating twenty years over the death of the great Yugoslav writer Danilo Kiš.

One of the things that keeps me attracted to Yugoslavia and its successor countries is the quality of writers and intellectuals, which by contrast, make the dominant narrow minded nationalism even more appalling. In Serbia and in Bosnia I was able to meet vibrant people, cultivated cosmopolitans trapped in societies dominated by parochial concepts of national interest.  Meeting such people was always produced in me a contradictory feeling of being intellectually stimulated by them and at the same time absorbing a certain sense of hopelessness, the feeling of frustration of realizing how difficult it is to promote one’s cosmopolitan perspective agains the narrow mindness of parochialism.

On his short story “A man with No Country”, published in Balkan Blues: Writing out of Yugoslavia, such feeling is, I think, clearly expressed in the final paragraph:

The great idea of the community entered drawing rooms and market-places, and under its banner rallied the wise and the stupid, noble souls and rabble, people linked by no affinity whatsoever, by no spiritual kinship, except for that banal, kitsh and dangerous theory of race and social origin.

Danilo Kiš is considered to be the last Yugoslav writer. As Richard Byrne highlights, the conflicts that tore Yugoslavia apart were rooted in the paranoia and ignorance belittled by Kiš, and the cultural artifacts of that era trafficked in the banality and kitsch that he so savagely ridiculed.

This is not to say that Yugoslavia was a cosmopolitan paradise, but just to remember how its potential was destroyed. Every time I go to Belgrade, a city that I love and where I feel almost as much at home as in my own native Lisbon, I have the impression that, had the dissolution of Yugoslavia been conducted through non-violent means, Belgrade would be by now one of the great cities of Europe, probably the cultural and economic centre of South Eastern Europe. Of course, this is nothing comparing to the damage cause to a city like Sarajevo, a city where more than ten thousand people were killed, a city which had to endure the longest siege in modern History and whose identity was severely damaged.

Unfortunatelly, looking around in contemporary Europe, I see too often, at least too often for my taste, the same narrow mindness, the same ‘repli identitaire’, to use the french expression, the same kitsch that so much appalled Kiš. For that reason, I think that Danilo Kiš is mandatory reading to anyone who appreciates subtety and values an open commitment against totalitarian mentality.

Democratic Serbia defeated once again: Belgrade Pride cancelled.

The decision to call off the Belgrade Pride Parade represents a serious set-back for the liberal sector in Serbia and a significant victory for the darkest nationalist forces.

Only once has a LGTB Pride Parade been organized in Serbia, in 2001. The Milosevic regime had been overthrown some months earlier, in October 2000, and, led by Prime Minister Zoran Djindjic, Serbia seemed to be experiencing, for the first time, an environment allowing the full expression of the liberal ambitions of one part of its society. The Parade was violently disrupted by extreme right youth groups, led by the clero-fascist organization Obraz. The violent attack and the failure of the state to garantee the security of the event, held only two days after Milosevic’s deportation to the Hague, revealed the height of the challenges that those committed into building a civic society in Serbia would have to face. It didn’t take long until hope in positive change started to be replaced by increasing scepticism.

For the LGTB community, the event highlighted the need to return to the semi-clandesitne status in which it had previously been living. To say semi-clandestine statues when refering to Serbia’s gays and lesbians is to mention only the small minority of gays and lesbians organized in NGO’s or informal associations. For most, being homosexual means to live in total clandestinity, hiding and denying one’s identity even from the closest friends, not to mention the family, and in the case of many men, to make a serious effort to look as macho as possible. Homophobia in Serbia is so widespread and homophobes feel so free to express their contempt towards those who don’t share their brutish way of being men that it is very frequent for heterossexual young men to be harrassed for not looking macho enough (this is not to say that all homophobes are men, but usually physical assaults are perpretrated by men). It’s also quite common to find civic-minded individuals being labeled as gay or lesbians as an attempt to discredit them, independently of their real sexual orientation.

Many people (and here I am not restricting myself to Serbia, but speaking generally) tend to dismiss the importance of Pride Parades, viewing them basically as gatherings of excentric people and even qualifying the participants as ‘freaks’ and exhibitionists. But the fact that such events get sucessfully organized all over the developed world reveals the level of adheasion towards the idea of tolerance and civic values more generally, and the fact that such events have been attracting an increasing number of participants, to the point that in some cities they are becoming valuable touristic attractions, reveals not only the level of tolerance, but above all, an important shift in mentalities in which differences no longer bother ‘normal’ people. Usually led and organized by LGTB activists as a way to claim their right to be different, the sucess of such events gives a clear signal to all homossexuals about their status in society, thus allowing them to claim also the right to indifference, meaning not only the right to be tolerated but the duty of society not to act in a discriminatory way.

Thus, Pride Parades and similar are nowadays a valuable measure of the level of autenticity of a given society towards civic values and a very important contribution to reinforce the freedom of expression of each of us, independently of our sexual orientation and of how we wish our sexual orientation to be known by others. This is a recent development, which has taken momentum in the last two decades. Since 2001, Serbia has been lagging behind, while in most european countries we have been witnessing the increasing recognition of equal rights for homossexuals.

The victory of the pro-european option in the elections in May 2008 provided a new opportunity for the civic sector to advance their causes. I had the opportunity to spend time in Belgrade last year in three different moments (February, July and September-October) and could observe how the political environment changed in a positive way once the new government was formed, but also how the reactionary nationalist forces were realigning themselves to face an unfavorable environment.

Clearly, it was in the interest of the government to project the image of positive change in Serbia. As I was told by a member of the NGO Youth Initiative for Human Rights while conducting a research on extreme right youth groups, everytime they thought of organizing any event, they had to bear in mind that there was a chance that it would be disrupted by extremists, but since the current government took office, the attitude of the authorities had changed completely, with real measures being taken to guarantee the security of such events.

The same message was given to LGTB activists, and, while homophobic incidents continued to be frequent, the approval, last March, of a law on non-discrimination which prohibited discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation and gender identity gave strenght to the idea that Serbia was on the right track. Approved in face of strong opposition of the Serbian ortodox Church and other religious organizations, which unsuccessfully lobbied to have any mention to sexual orientation withdrawn, this law was crutial to meet the requirements of the European Union in order to fulfill the government goal of EU integration. This is a very relevant point. If Serbian citizens have been granted a Visa-free regime, it is, among other things, because the state committed itself to the fight against sexual discrimination. Minority rights don’t benefit only the minorities, they benefit society as a whole, including the sectors that oppose such rights.

During the last two weeks, I had been waiting with excitment for this event to happen. Everyday, Sladjana, my Serbian colleague, and I would engage in discussions about the importance of the Parade for Serbia’s european ambitions. Last week, a series of personalities had publicly given their support to the Pride Parade, and the serbian Ombudsmen declared he would be personally attending the event. While not openly supporting the Parade, the government declared, last Friday, “that state authorities should ensure the free expression of equality and diversity“, and President Boris Tadic reinforced this statement by saying that “the state will do everything to protect all its citizens regardless of their religious, sexual or political affiliation“.

Despite such statements, yesterday the government tried to relocate the Parade, due to be held today at the centre of Belgrade, to the area of Usce, on the periphery of the city, considering that it didn’t have the means to guarantee security otherwise. The organization refused this and instead preferred to cancel the Parade. Apparently, the government failed to grasp the meaning of relocating the Parade from the centre to the periphery of Belgrade. If the Parade aims to fight the marginalization to which the LGTB community is relegated, to have it on the periphery of Belgrade would completely undermine its goal.

The way the government in the end widrew its support reveals its essencial weakness and is paradigmatic of the commitment of the pro-european government towards the civic values that form the core of the european integration project.

The threat to disrupt the Pride parade had been publicly stated by the leaders of extremist groups like Obraz and ‘1389′. As one of  ‘1389′ leaders, Misa Vasic, declared to Osservatorio sui Balcani, “We all will be there, us, other patriotic movements like Obraz, the Red Star ‘Delije’, the Partizan ‘Grobari’, even the supporters of the smallest teams in the city (…) We’ll make a front of the ’sane and normal’ decided to stop the gay parade in Serbia“.  Belgrade’s walls were covered by graffittis and posters with threatening messages such as ‘cekamo vas’ (we are waiting for you).(Photo: Blic)

The extremist are not completely dumb and know, unlike the Serbian government that deterrence lies upon the credibility of the will to use force. So, to make sure the message was heard, nothing better than a ’small’ demonstration. Thus, last Thursday, a group of French supporters of the football club Toulouse were violently attacked by a group of hooligans supporters of Partizan. One of the victims, 28 year old Brice Taton, was seriously wounded and is in critical condition.

The failure of the police to garantee security in the Pride Parade would undoubtedly represent a serious blow in Serbia’s image, and it was better to recognize the state’s powerlessness upon such a threat than to allow violence to happen and people to get injured or killed. But the question is, why preventive measures were not taken?

Furthermore, why is it that a democratic government does not take measures against individuals, groups and organizations that openly threaten to use violence? B92 reports today that calls reemerge for banning extremist organizations, including by Belgrade’s mayor Dragan Djilas. But why haven’t these organizations been banned already?

If Serbia’s pro-european government is to take a meaningful lesson from this episode is that Serbia cannot progress into the european path as long it doesn’t tackle the roots of intolerance, and that means openly adressing and refuting the heavy legacy of nationalism upon which these groups build their strenght.

UPDATE: 28 year old french citizen Brice Taton died today from his injuries.

CHECHNYA: another humanitarian worker abducted and killed

Zarema Sadulayeva, an activist of the humanitarian NGO  Save the Generation, which works with chechen children victims of the war, and her husband Umar Dzhabrailov were found dead today, after having been abducted yesterday from the office of the NGO.

Human Rights Watch describes the NGO  Let’s save the generation in these terms:

“”"Save the Generation is a nongovernmental organization in Chechnya founded in 2001 that provides psychological and physical rehabilitation to disabled children, orphans, and other socially vulnerable groups. The group also works closely with UNICEF, among other groups, to provide training about landmines, and promotes protection of the rights of the disabled.“”"

Update: Owen posted on the comments a press release from the swiss-based Society for Threatened Peoples that is worth reading.

NATALIA ESTEMIROVA’s tragic death: Are we doing enough to support Human Rights defenders?

Much as I need to write and like to blog, sometimes it’s difficult to find the time and the motivation to post, especially because it is not possible to have an original perspective or a deep understanding about all issues and the internet is already full of common sense remarks about everything. But something got my attention and reminded me of the usefulness of blogs to raise awareness about issues which are important devoting our attention to.

Last Tuesday, 15 July, Natalia Estemirova was abducted in front of her home in Grozny, Chechnya. Her dead body was found a few hours later. A Human Rights activist working for the NGO Memorial, she dedicated her life to investigating and denouncing Human Rights violations in Chechnya. Her assassination follows a pattern of eliminating dissident voices in Russia, with a level of impunity so high that not even the fact that some of the victims of such policy benefited from international recognition protected them.

One year ago, I met a Russian Human Rights activist, who gave me an account of the political situation in Russia and on how it was becoming increasingly difficult for them to work, especially after the aproval of the Russian NGO Law. As I was particularly interested in the situation in Chechnya, and complained about the lack of accurate information about it, which I thought was the outcome of the option to make access to the region as difficult and risky as possible, she gave me the contact of a friend who she said could provide me with more information and possibly useful contacts. Her friend was Natalia Estemirova. I never did send her an email. I wrote one, but kept it on my drafts to send it in an appropriate moment in the future.

On the reply to my condolences, my russian friend enphasised the goal to keep working in Chechenya and with the Chechen people, but despite her determination, her tone was of deep sadness and frustration, as it is so obvious where the orders for this murder came from.

Natalia Estemirova’s tragic death should make us think whether we do enough to support people like her, who risk their lives so bravely to document and denounce Human Rights abuses. As citizens of the EU, we have the power to pressure our leaders, however, we are clearly failing to do so, and if we look at the evolution of the relationship between EU and key EU member states and Russia, it is appalling to see how the issue of Human Rights gets sidelined.

Every time something like this horrible murder happens, Russia becomes poorer, and so does the world. I’m sorry that people like myself, who are aware, do not do more to support those who take serious risks to defend Human Rights. I guess we are too caught up on our small problems or too busy enjoying our comfortable lies or complaining about meaningless things.

Note: the photo was taken at a tribute to Natalia Estemirova held in St. Petersburg on 16 July and sent to me by my russian friend.

The meaning of saudade

In just a few weeks I will be leaving Portugal and start living in Norway. This, up to a certain point, explains why I have been neglecting my blog for so long. I have been busy making arrangements, taking care of different things, but mostly it’s that I have been using the small amount of time that I have left to do things that will not be possible once I start living in Norway, namely, spending as much time as possible with friends and family and also spending as much time as possible at the beach, taking as much sun as possible before I move to a place where in winter time there are only three or four hours of sun light.

As I am getting ready to leave, I find myself being sometimes touched by this nostalgic feeling that in portuguese is called saudade. This word, we are often told, has no accurate translation in foreign languages. I really don’t know if this is so, only that in the foreign languages that I know I can’t find any appropriate equivalent.

Saudade is supposed to be something very deep and distinctively Portuguese in character, but its importance is, I always thought, greatly magnified, and that, in turn, keeps people too much attached to the past – or rather to an idealized past made only of pleasant memories- and implies a certain amount of fatalism, as if what the future might bring us could never match that past. This feeling is strongly connected with the act of leaving and is cultivated by the Portuguese as a way to keep a link to their roots, since we are traditionally a people of emigrants and travellers. It is an ambivalent feeling, both positive and negative, and it is that blend that provides its deepness and subtlety. However, as far as I perceive it, it has been too much influenced by the excessive value that is attributed to suffering, something that is culturally induced by the catholic religion, which overloads this feeling. Those who leave are supposed to be making a great sacrifice, while for me to leave means rather an opportunity to improve one’s life and expand one’s knowedge and worldview.

Until now, I could only experience the saudade felt by those who stay, and only after I leave I will really grasp what does it mean. I’m not particularly worried about that, but still, just in case, I am pre-emptively engaging in what we call portuguese ‘matar saudades’, killing this feeling, by enjoying the things  that I will have to give up when I leave, like the sun, the mild weather, the tasty food, the company of people I love, while already looking forward the new experiences that this change in my life will bring me.

With this post I am resuming my regular blogging. I want to thank my readers for the nice messages that they wrote during my absense.