Reconstructing nationalistic narratives leading to peace and social justice
HOW DO we explain decades of cordial neighbourly relations between Croats and Serbs in the Balkans, or Hutus and Tutsis in Rwanda, turning into such ghastly acts of human slaughter? How do the victims and perpetrators of such horrific acts heal the festering wounds of hatred, oozing with resentment and vengeance?
These vexing questions are complex in nature with multiple reasons and intricate dynamics. Nelson Mandela’s sage words: “If you want to make peace with your enemy, you have to work with your enemy. Then he becomes your partner,” sounds impossible in such contexts of intense acrimony and retribution.
Last year, I was fortunate to meet memory workers from post-conflict countries at the Mandela Dialogues on Memory Work 2, hosted by the Human Rights Media Centre (HRMC) in Kenilworth, Cape Town.
I was heartened by the participants’ passion and dedication to take up Mandela’s challenge to break the cycle of violence, prejudice and hatred, and build just and sustainable peace, and secure social justice. The HRMC promotes awareness and activism in human rights through narrative history projects and social interventions.
Davorka (Dada) Turk, one of the participants, is a memory worker based at the Centre for Nonviolent Action (CNA) in Sarajevo, Bosnia Herzegovina. I was struck by her avid articulation of the nationalistic heroic narrative as a way of understanding inter-ethnic conflict and its resolution.
Last month, I met Dada again in the Mother City. She was joined by her CNA colleagues and other peace activists from across the former Yugoslavia. Their visit to South Africa was to learn from South Africa’s liberation struggle and democratic journey, and to build solidarity with local activists, such as activist Shirley Gunn, the director of the HRMC, and their host in Cape Town.
To understand the war in Yugoslavia from 1991-1999 one has to go back in history to the period between 1929 and 1945, when the Ustaše or Croatian Defence Forces, a fascist and ultranationalist group, promoted genocide.
Almost 100 000 people were killed in concentration camps during the fascist independent state of Croatia. The victims were Serbs, Jews, Roma (Gypsies) and political dissidents. The Croatian state’s ideology was a blend of fascism, Roman Catholicism and Croatian nationalism to create a racially “pure” Croatia.
After World War II, the Yugoslav partisan movement, led by Josip Broz Tito, was able to unite the warring Serbs, Croats, and Bosniaks creating the nation of Yugoslavia under the ideology of “brotherhood and unity”.
Dada elaborates: “Simmering behind Tito’s noble ideology were international disputes. Groups were forbidden to express their ethnic nationality, suppressed for many decades until Tito’s death in 1980. In the late 1980s nationalist movements on the rise again wanted their own regions.
“Serbia is usually blamed for the war in 1991, but none of the others are innocent. Nationalism takes something from your collective memory. For the Croatian Serbs it was the memory of the former concentration camps. You have very frightened people, scared that history will repeat itself with fascist tendencies. You always perceive victim as victim and perpetrator as perpetrator; victim could become perpetrator.”
Dada expands on victimhood, in particular as the Croats view themselves as victims after the last war, including her family: “We are all defending ourselves, fighting just wars, then who are the aggressors? We are all the biggest victims. There is a competition of victimhood. Every ex-Yugoslav nation views themselves as the biggest victims, this is a vital part of our nationalistic narratives. Everyone suffered.
“My Croatian family still see themselves as victims of Serbian aggression. The victim narrative is a closed circle.You need to liberate yourself or you become the oppressor. When Serbs in Croatia are perceived as the enemy, then they continue to be the enemy. Victims don’t want to forget and forgive.”
Working as a peace activist, Dada learnt about the “misuse” of her history and understands Yugoslavia and what was wrong. She explains: “I grew up all my life with a heroic narrative – a strong anti-fascist resistance. It was overwhelming. The heroic or victor’s narrative justified violence, a just war.
“Yugoslavia’s culture of memory was heroically oriented. A heroic narrative of people’s struggle was needed in the creation of Yugoslavia: people sacrificed their lives for their homeland; the socialist ideology was emancipation for everyone; it was power to the people and their grand monument against a fascist regime. In the 90s, Milosevic used the heroic narrative leading to thousands of young and untrained conscripts killed on the front line in the belief of the monolithic heroic army.”
Dada cautions on rage, the use of violence and the glory of war: “Rage ignites fire, gets out of hand, have to be careful, mindful when you embark on violent struggle. We live in a patriarchal and militarised society, which is very dangerous. If we teach our children the heroic narrative they will not think twice to engage in armed struggle, living up to their forefathers. War is glorified. In reality it is not romantic, it is dirty, shady, very grey. We want to search for peaceful solutions.”
Her yearning for the positive aspects of solidarity, co-existence, and “brotherhood and unity” of the former Yugoslavia still lingers. This conviction led her to join the Centre for Non-violent Action, to the chagrin of her family.
She sadly shares: “There is huge opposition in my broader family. They can’t understand why I live in Sarajevo and like working with the enemy, co-operating with the enemy. Luckily, my parents support me, even if they don’t understand it completely why I had to move to Sarajevo.To me it is an opportunity to live in Yugoslavia again with different nationalities and work in the whole region. We still share culture, language, and have much in common.”
CNA organises cross-border meetings to promote peace actions and education with groups from various parts of the former Yugoslavia with the aim of building a sustainable peace, promoting dialogue, trust building and non-violence, which includes narrative deconstruction.
They work to transform prejudice, stereotypes, and the notion of violence. She is grateful to her CNA colleagues for expanding her knowledge and skills in understanding the dominant narratives and how to oppose and deconstruct these.
Dada is encouraged with the positive response to their work: “When people meet, because of hatred and prejudice, they are really surprised when they meet [people from other ethnic groups]. They understand each other perfectly; they are basically the same people with the same problems, not villains. They pay respect to all victims, regardless of their origin. They don’t want it for their children. Ex-enemies also have children, wives, and mothers.”
What of the heroic narrative in liberation movements against apartheid in South Africa, I ask? Her reply is thought provoking: “The heroic narrative prevents us from self-criticism, self-doubt, and creates self-righteousness.
“It may paint a monolithic picture that prevents you from fighting injustice within the liberation movement. For example some comrades died for nothing, perceived as informers. One has to be selfcritical, open to criticising our own. Not to idealise the movement, to try to be truthful and honest. Maybe the question is if we were right in the liberation movement, what is wrong with our democracy?
“Our visit to South Africa enabled us to listen, hear, share and learn. It was an unprecedented experience for us to meet inspiring people and visits memorials to the past struggles.”
The inspirational work of memory workers and peace activists gives me hope Mandela’s guidance on working with your enemy and challenging narrow, monolithic, heroic, and nationalistic narratives may well lead to self-awareness, empathy, reconciliation and peace – a challenging journey, not only for Serbs and Croats, or Hutus and Tutsis, but also for South Africans.
They understand each other; they are the same people with the same problems, not villains.