What makes
humans capable of horrific violence?
BY TOM BARTLETT,
WITH PHOTOS BY TARIK SAMARAH AND MATT LUTTON
The former
battery factory on the outskirts of Srebrenica, a small town in eastern Bosnia,
has become a grim tourist attraction. Vans full of sightseers, mostly from
other countries, arrive here daily to see the crumbling industrial structure,
which once served as a makeshift United Nations outpost and temporary haven for
Muslims under assault by Serb forces determined to seize the town and round up
its residents. In July 1995 more than 8,000 Muslim men, from teenagers to the
elderly, were murdered in and around Srebrenica, lined up behind houses, gunned
down in soccer fields, hunted through the forest.
The factory is
now a low-budget museum where you can watch a short film about the genocide and
meet a survivor, a soft-spoken man in his mid-30s who has repeated the story of
his escape and the death of his father and brother nearly every day here for
the past five years. Visitors are then led to a cavernous room with display
cases containing the personal effects of victims—a comb, two marbles, a
handkerchief, a house key, a wedding ring, a pocket watch with a bullet
hole—alongside water-stained photographs of the atrocity hung on cracked
concrete walls. The English translations of the captions make for a kind of
accidental poetry. “Frightened mothers with weeping children: where and how to
go on … ?” reads one. “Endless sorrow for the dearest,” says another.
Across the
street from the museum is a memorial bearing the names of the known victims,
flanked by rows and rows of graves, each with an identical white marker. Nearby
an old woman runs a tiny souvenir shop selling, among other items, baseball
caps with the message “Srebrenica: Never Forget.”
This place is a
symbol of the 1995 massacre, which, in turn, is a symbol of the entire conflict
that followed the breakup of Yugoslavia. The killings here were a fraction of
the total body count; The Bosnian Book of the Dead, published early this year,
lists 96,000 who perished, though there were thousands more. It was the
efficient brutality in Srebrenica that prompted the international community,
after years of dithering and half measures, to take significant military
action.
While that
action ended the bloodshed, the reckoning is far from finished. Fragments of
bone are still being sifted from the soil, sent for DNA analysis, and returned
to families for burial. The general who led the campaign, Ratko Mladic, is on
trial in The Hague after years on the run. In a recent proceeding, Mladic
stared at a group of Srebrenica survivors in the gallery and drew a single
finger across his throat. Around the same time, the president of Serbia issued
a nonapology apology for the massacre, neglecting to call it genocide and using
language so vague it seemed more insult than olive branch.
Standing near
the memorial, surrounded by the dead, the driver of one of those tourist-filled
vans, a Muslim who helped defend Sarajevo during a nearly four-year siege,
briefly drops his sunny, professional demeanor. “How can you forgive when they
say it didn’t happen?” he says. “The Nazis, they killed millions. They say,
‘OK, we are sorry.’ But the Serbs don’t do that.”
Some Serbs do
acknowledge the genocide. According to a 2010 survey, though, most Serbs
believe that whatever happened at Srebrenica has been exaggerated, despite
being among the most scientifically documented mass killings in history. They
shrug it off as a byproduct of war or cling to conspiracy theories or complain
about being portrayed as villains. The facts disappear in a swirl of doubts and
denial.
A new Bosnian
film explores how that refusal to face the truth can become bizarre, like a
hallucination. In the film, one actress plays multiple characters, each a
different Serbian woman with a different reaction to Srebrenica. One character,
a fast talker in a white blazer, suggests the story has been manufactured.
Another, wearing hoop earrings and an animal-print blouse, doesn’t deny the
killings occurred but won’t discuss them either. “Money, how you live, where
you vacation, that’s what we should worry about,” she says. Yet another
character—again, the same actress, this time with chopped blond hair—seems
weirdly pleased to broach the morbid topic. “I don’t often get the opportunity
to talk about guilt,” she says.
Listening to those
women is an actor playing a Srebrenica survivor, who gently prompts them to
move past their superficial banter. At one point, late in the film, he reveals
his own obsession: “I often think about a particular moment, a situation. When
mass killings are happening and you are tied up, and when they are taking you
to the pit where they throw in the dead bodies, and when you see them killing
people and you know it’s your turn next, at that second, that moment right
before you are killed, what do you think about?”