ANOTHER VOICE
The dangers of being idealistic about the Balkans
PETRONELLA WYATT
Early last Sunday I walked to the bridge in Sarajevo over which the Archduke Franz Ferdinand would have driven on the morn- ing of 28 June 1914 if he had not been assassinated by Gavrilo Princip, a Bosnian Serb, just as his car was about to leave the embankment.
History has come full circle in Bosnia. It was at this spot that there was set in train the events which led to Woodrow Wilsoni- anism — detailed American intervention in the world's conflicts so as to make it safe for democracy. Eighty-three years later, Wilsonianism has returned here, under the guise of the Dayton Agreement that last year followed the end of the fighting between Bosnia-Hercegovina's warring factions.
Dayton reeks of Wilsonianism. It is a sophisticated charter for forging a nation state out of people who have no desire to be a nation. At the moment Bosnia is two entities, the Serb Republic and the Muslim- Croat Federation. There are 31,000 Nato troops — 5,000 of them British — under American command, trying to implement a complicated programme of reintegration. The problem is that the Bosnians are expected to think like Westerners, but they cannot. They are Balkan, and even the Ottoman Empire at the height of its volup- tuous power wished it had never tried to conquer these tricky, duplicitous people.
The Defence Secretary, Michael Portillo, had invited a party of journalists, including me, to meet the British troops at their HO at Banja Luka in the Serb Republic. We were supposed to fly there, but the Serbs had closed the airport, so we drove from Zagreb. As we entered Bosnia two things became noticeable: the precipitous terrain — a landscape of gorges and ravines out of Bram Stoker — and the complete desola- tion. This part of former Yugoslavia has always been the poorest. Most of the Serbs were subsistence fanners, an occupation that the recent war disrupted. These days there are few fresh vegetables or fruit. The people survive on rations of pork or, partic- ularly in the case of the Muslims, things they have buried in the ground or pickled. Many fields are still full of landmines. Apparently, some of the Serbs dig these up and then bury them around their farms to deter thieves and trespassers.
As night fell, we arrived at the British HO, which had been fashioned out of a for- mer metal factory. The soldiers used to sleep in tents but have now erected things which look like Edwardian bathing huts, only made of steel. We were astonished by what the men had managed to achieve in so short a time and with so much cheerfulness.
Interestingly, the officers appeared to have considerable respect for Mr Portillo, who, it seemed, is one of the few Defence Secretaries with an understanding of the army. Indeed, some of the men seemed almost pathetically grateful to see our party. We were flattered until an officer explained to me: 'Because of your visit, for the first time in six months we will have pudding for dinner. You can't imagine how much that means to us.'
My confusion was made worse by fre- quent calls upon me to sing. I was baffled by this until it transpired that the Daily Express had written a paragraph saying that I was a part-time cabaret singer and would be performing 'Lill Marlene' to boost morale. A copy of this story appeared to have been faxed to every British soldier in Bosnia. I was forced to explain that I could not embarrass the Defence Secretary, who was effectively my host.
Our admiration for the British troops was shared by the locals, who seemed to like them better than the Americans. When we drove through villages in military cars, children came out on the streets to wave at us. This is partly because the British army is adept at practical aid, setting up schools, hospitals, shops and so forth, things more valuable to the locals than idealism. The Serbs, of course, cannot forgive the Ameri- cans for arming the Muslim-Croat Federa- tion, even though under the Dayton ceiling they will have to give up the weapons any- way. This is another inconsistency in Amer- ican thinking.
Most Bosnians had a gun before the war and cannot see what is wrong with that. In the Serb Republic, despite the number of weapons that have been surrendered or confiscated, there are still thousands hid- den in people's houses. The Serbs like to fire off their guns after dinner in the way that we pass around the After Eights. It is an old custom and one, they assume, prac- tised all over the world. A British intelli- gence officer told us how he had recently congratulated the Serb police chief on curbing this celebratory fire. said the police chief, 'it won't last, of course. After all, there is celebratory fire everywhere. Surely they have it in London all the time.'
This lack of understanding between cul- tures is most evident in the Bosnians' stub- born refusal to reintegrate. They fail to recognise such Western clichés as different races living together in perfect harmony. In Bosnia few even grasp the notion of free- dom of movement, hence the obsession with checkpoints. 'What would happen', inquired one Serb, 'if there were no check- points between London and Bristol? Eng- land would be done for.' Serbs repeatedly asked Mr Portillo how the British could possibly work with the German officers who are part of the Nato command. For them racial hatred is something to be nur- tured, not forgotten.
The place that seems to have suffered most from this Balkan disease is the town of Gornji Vakuf, where the Croats and Muslims literally tore each other to pieces. Almost every house we passed was destroyed either by shells or ethnic vandal- ism. The Croats recently decided to rename their section of town and elect their own officials. There is a ruined Catholic church that they attend determinedly, two streets from a mosque whose minaret was half blown away during the war. Yet Croats and Muslims look no different: few women cover their hair and many are as fair as Scandinavians. For the Muslims in Saraje- vo, the two most prized black-market com- modities are cement and hard-core porn.
The Nato forces are to leave Bosnia- Hercegovina in 18 months. The British seemed more realistic than the Americans about the consequences of this, particularly given the return of refugees in the spring, which will cause uncontainable tensions. There is little doubt that fighting will even- tually resume between the hostile factions. Some people think it will be a generation before there is any tranquillity here, and the requirements of Dayton have, in some ways, made things worse. Standing on the bridge at Sarajevo, I noticed that the water under it runs red. This is caused by rusting metal, but it is nonetheless a picaresque warning against Wilsonianism, in any form.
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