Although almost 15 years have passed since the end of the war, it seems that traces of hatred have not yet dissapeared. Not only have they not disappeared, but they seem to be gaining in intensity. What follows hardly requires sophisticated analysis since everything there is crystal clear. All the reader needs is a bit of additional information to complete the picture of what is going on 14 years after the war’s official end.

If there is any uncertainty whether a new war would bring on an avalanche of new crimes, the incident we are about to describe will remove the doubt. The number of sick brains and those who would be happy to unearth their hatchets, assuming that in their own minds they were ever buried in the first place, is unfortunately increasing from one year to the next.

The situation is as follows. On April 4, 1993, a group of 11 Serb civilian policemen, in a properly marked vehicle, were ambushed in the locality of Gladovići. [It should be noted that according to the laws of war, civilian policemen are to be treated as protected persons and may not be subjected to unprovoked attack.] The policemen were on their way to Osat on official assignment. As both sides of the road are flanked by rocky terrain 3—4 meters high, it is not difficult to imagine that the Moslems set their ambush on both sides of the road. As the vehicle was passing by, the Moslems opened fire and in the cross fire they killed all 11 policemen. That was apparently not enough for them and, stimulated by the results of their heroic operation, they descended to the vehicle and set it on fire with the dead bodies inside. Even that act of vandalism (or perhaps a ritual act from the perspective of the perpetrators) would not have attracted particular attention because in wartime the grisliest things are known to happen. What sets this tragic incident apart from many others is that the persecution of the dead has continued down to our day. That strongly suggests the conclusion that there are individuals so obsessed with hatred that they are prepared to go to the extraordinary length of trying to settle accounts even with the dead.

Clearly, there are some for whom even the murder of Serbian policemen is not sufficient to satisfy their appetite for the elimination of everything that seems out of place in their universe because it marks the presence of another community. Strange as it seems, it happens to be true.

The truth of that statement is what hurts the most the families of the dead policemen who erected a stone memorial plaque to honor their dead at the location of the tragedy. A short time after the plaque was put in place, on June 21, 2001, someone came and broke the plaque into pieces. Some time later, Serbian authorities replaced the broken memorial plaque, but around July 24-26, 2008, the replacement experienced the same fate as the original—it was pounded into fragments. Today at that location, the wayfarer can only see the metal frame in which the memorial plaque used to be displayed. The fragments of the plaque are now kept at the police station for their own safety.

Does that mean that today, 14 years after the war, someone is sending us a clear message that Serbs in the Republic of Srpska are denied the right to commemorate their victims and that they are not entitled to erect even modest monuments to honor them? Perhaps the problem with such a monument is that it reminds the world that others also are guilty of murder, pillage, and devastation in Srebrenica. Should a guard be posted next to every Serbian monument in order to prevent such eruptions of hatred and senseless destruction? Is there a limit to their brutality, or is it their object to snuff out the truth by means of violence and the commission of new crimes? Perhaps the most important question of all: who are those monsters who are clashing with the dead?

The fate of another Serbian monument, this one in the nearby village of Brana Bačići and referring to events which took place during World War II, suggests that human monstrosity has no limits. In the last Bosnian war, the village was attacked on January 7, 1993. While it was under the control of Moslem forces, someone desecrated the monument to Mileva Mlađenović, a young woman who in 1944 was slaughtered by the Ustashi together with her one year-old daughter and mother-in-law. Although the monument is not located close to any inhabited area or in a conspicuous place, local Moslems did not leave it untouched. With firearms or some dull objects, they desecrated the victims’ photograph on the headstone.

To go back to previous point, obviously many of these questions are without an unequivocal answer at the present moment. But one thing seems nevertheless clear. The winds of war have led us in the wrong direction. Corroded by hatred, we do not see very far. Our eyes do not reflect compassion, and for that reason alone we have no respect not only for the dead, but also for monuments raised in their honor. We persist in seeking the right path in the wrong place, and far too often we look for salvation where there is only perdition. By destroying what is our neighbor’s we do not create anything worthy or enduring for ourselves. By razing the foundations of the neighbor’s house we will not strengthed and solidify our own. If we desire a better and more secure future for our own children, we must find the strength to confront our past and to repent sincerely for the suffering that we inflicted on others. And we must learn to leave their dead to rest in peace.

Fragments of the monument after it was pounded into smithereens