Special
Report Dubrovnik after war: Recovery and remembrance
By MARGOT PATTERSON
Dubrovnik, Croatia
From the airport, the Adriatic
coastal road that winds around the mountains to Dubrovnik offers spectacular
views of bare, stony mountains dropping down to crystalline blue sea. When
Dubrovnik appears in the distance, the sight is one more beautiful vista.
Below, perched on the edge of the sea, the medieval city is enclosed by
centuries-old city walls often considered the finest in Europe.
Dubrovnik up close is as stunning as from afar. The city dazzles
when on a sunny day the marble pavement on the main street, the Placa, gleams
underfoot. Despite its age, the city built of light-colored stone seems
luminous, almost pristine, a place mellowed by time but not marred. Looking at
the churches and palaces on the square adjoining the Placa, its hard to
believe that 10 years ago this fall Dubrovnik was engulfed in war, one of the
first casualties of the Balkans wars that broke out in Croatia, then spread to
Bosnia and Kosovo and now threatens Macedonia. The break-up of Yugoslavia
following the collapse of the Soviet Union took the lives of many thousands of
Serbs, Croats, Bosnian Muslims and ethnic Albanians living in Kosovo.
If you came here 10 years ago, you would only see grenades,
shells, fire, wounded people. But now its nine years past when the last
grenade came. Its all been rebuilt, said Kresimir Bilic, who takes
tickets at the museum in the Dominican monastery.
Twenty-six grenades fell on the Dominican monastery during the
war. The 13th-century monastery was one of hundreds of buildings damaged by the
siege of Dubrovnik. During the siege, the Yugoslav Army bombarded Dubrovnik by
air, land and sea. Two thousand shells fell on the city. Seventy percent of
Dubrovniks buildings suffered direct hits, and many of Dubrovniks
most precious monuments and churches were bombed despite -- or, some say,
because of -- UNESCO flags marking them. Little in Dubrovnik was left untouched
by the war, neither the city walls, nor the citys fortresses, streets,
churches, public buildings or homes. In every house youll find
traces of the shrapnel on the walls, said Dubravka Zvrko, director of
publicity for the Institute for the Restoration of Dubrovnik.
Today, few signs of the destruction wrought by the siege are
visible. You walk around the inner city, and theres nothing that
reminds you of the war, marveled Bert Tiemes, a Dutch NATO official
visiting Dubrovnik for the first time.
But engage people in conversation, and the wounds left by the war
begin to show.
There is a lot of mistrust. That is the biggest
problem, said Marta Mihanovic, a doctor in Zagreb, who was in Dubrovnik
during the siege. It was terrible during the war, Mihanovic said,
recalling children who walked to school dodging bullets.
Forgive but not forget. For me, it is an important
phrase, Mihanovic said. Minutes later, Mihanovic said that she works with
Serbs in Zagreb but would not be friends with a Serb. I do not trust
them, she said.
Serbs done to us big, big trouble, said Bilic.
All factories destroyed; tourism destroyed. Many, many years will pass
before we get back to where we were.
Dubrovnik seems on its way, though. At dusk tourists throng the
cafes on the Placa. The languages heard on the street are Italian, German,
English, French, even Japanese.
Obviously, were back in business, said
Antonijeta Nives Milos, the director of tourism in Dubrovnik.
Tourism is the mainstay of Dubrovnik, a city of about 55,000. The
recovery of the tourist industry began in 1998, dipped in 1999 because of the
crisis in Kosovo, and has since rebounded despite the continuing shortage of
hotel beds due to the war, when half of Dubrovniks hotel stock was
destroyed.
The revival of tourism is linked to the reconstruction of the
city, which began its repair efforts even as it was being bombed. Since 1991,
the Croatian government has spent $2 million annually on restoring Dubrovnik, a
sum augmented by contributions from the international community.
Most of the damage caused by the siege of Dubrovnik was to
rooftops. If you climb to the top of Dubrovniks high city wall, you can
see where Dubrovniks traditional red tile roofs were damaged and then
repaired. For the most part, however, the effects of the war are no longer
lodged in the stones of Dubrovnik, but inscribed in peoples psyches. They
surface in stories of the six-month siege of the city. During the siege, water,
telephones and electricity were cut off for almost three months. Two wells, one
of them at the Dominican monastery, provided townspeople with drinking water.
Fr. Kristijan D. Raic, prior of the Dominican monastery, estimated the
monasterys 14th-century well provided water to 50 percent of the
population. Several hours every morning were spent drawing water.
There was no running water so we went to the beach in
October, November and December and bathed in the cold sea, said a
Dubrovnik resident. A maritime engineer, Boris (not his real name) had been a
soldier in the Croatian Army during the war and was eager to share his
experiences, though not his name.
Zelimir Puljic, the Catholic bishop of Dubrovnik, remembers both
the upsurge of religious feeling among residents of the city and the fear
caused by the siege.
The food reserves got with every new day scarcer and
scarcer. You can only imagine how it looked like every evening going to bed
with fear that it might be the last, said Puljic. It is no wonder
that this kind of psychological torture has left deep scars on the psyche of
our people.
Croatia is a Catholic country. About 76 percent of the people are
Catholics. During the war, approximately 800 churches were destroyed --
deliberately targeted for destruction, say some. The Wounded Church in
Croatia: The Destruction of the Sacral Heritage of Croatia, a book
published by the Croatian Conference of Bishops, the Croatian Heritage
Foundation, The Republican Bureau for the Preservation of the Cultural and
Natural Heritage of Croatia, and CIC-Croatian War Documentation Center, reports
31 percent of the sacred objects in the Dubrovnik diocese were either destroyed
or considerably damaged during the war.
Some people believe the destruction of the churches was, like the
destruction of Dubrovniks public monuments, not an inadvertent effect of
the war but a deliberate act. Vinicije Lupis, who works in the historical
archives in Dubrovnik, described the destruction of Croatian churches as one
project of ethnic cleansing.
If you destroy the church, you destroy the main monument of
a culture, Lupis said. Churches were the symbols of the Croatian
people.
Lupis view of the intent of the action carried out by the
Yugoslav Army is shared by many, though certainly not all.
They aimed at everything, and of course it included
churches, cathedrals. They aimed at all human beings. They tried to destroy all
non-Serb monuments, said Boris.
The first rumblings of war began in June 1991 following the vote
of Yugoslavias two most prosperous republics, Slovenia and Croatia, to
leave the Yugoslav Federation. When Slovenia immediately changed the signs at
its borders to reflect its new independence, the government of Yugloslavia
posted troops to Slovenia, but after nine days withdrew them. Croatia was a
different matter. Unlike Slovenia, Croatia had a substantial Serb population
that already felt threatened by the nationalist policies of Croatias new
president, Franjo Tudjman, even before Croatia declared its independence.
Vukovar, a city in the east of Croatia close to the Serbian-Croatia border,
came under attack by the Yugoslav Army in August.
At 6 a.m. on Oct. 1, 1991, the first bombs fell on Dubrovnik.
That was the first time in my life I heard the explosion of
a bomb. My girlfriend called me and said, what was that? I said, maybe
someones tire, Boris recalled.
The bombing of Dubrovnik shocked the world. The city sometimes
called The Pearl of the Adriatic was hundreds of miles from the
front line of war and held no military or logistic importance.
Nobody could have imagined that the Yugoslav Army would
shell with bombs a city which is under UNESCO protection, one of the most
beautiful cities in Croatia, and with its history, culture and historic
monuments, obviously one of the best preserved and most beautiful cities in the
world, said Puljic.
In its heyday, Dubrovnik was an independent, thriving maritime
republic. The Republic of Dubrovnik lasted from the 13th century to the
Napoleonic invasion in 1808, but Dubrovnik dates back even further, to the 7th
century when it was founded by Roman settlers from the ancient diocese of
Epidaurum. Today, every stone in the town is considered protected property, for
the city is registered on the UNESCO World Heritage List not for any specific
monument but as an entirety.
Initially, the attack on Dubrovnik caused a flurry of diplomatic
activity, but as the siege wore on people in Dubrovnik felt increasingly
abandoned.
People felt left alone by the world, that nobody cared
because nobody did care, said Ivana Jvulic, a hostess at a local
Dubrovnik restaurant who during the school year teaches psychology at the
university in Zagreb, the capital of Croatia.
We were pretty disappointed with the European Community and
the United Nations because they didnt want to move a little finger to
help us, said Boris.
If Oct. 1 was the first day of the war in Dubrovnik, many remember
St. Nicholas Day on Dec. 6 as the hardest. Dec. 6 was a day of intense bombing
during which the Old City came under direct attack. Fourteen people were killed
that day. Dozens of churches and monuments were damaged or destroyed within the
old town walls, and a dramatic plea was made on Dubrovniks behalf by
UNICEFs representative there. During the incessant bombing by the
Yugoslav Army, landmark buildings in the small, compact Old City were hit,
including the Sponza Palace, the Church of St. Blaise, the Cathedral, the
Franciscan Monastery and the Dominican Monastery.
They started early in the morning, a quarter past five to
five in the afternoon. Nonstop shooting. That was one of the worst days of my
life, Boris said.
All surrounding cliffs were occupied by enemies. They put
loudspeakers up to bombard us with propaganda. How could we surrender? We
didnt attack anyone. It made no sense.
You cannot imagine, Boris said. You had to be
here. It was also a big surprise to me at that the end of the 20th century such
things could take place.
Today, plaques before all of the main gates to the Old City tell
the story of what is no longer immediately obvious to the eye. Written in five
languages, the plaque reads: City Map of Damages caused by the aggression
on Dubrovnik by the Yugoslav Army, Serbs and Montenegrians, 1991-1992.
The map uses black and red symbols to show the locations of burnt buildings in
Dubrovnik, roofs damaged by direct impacts, roofs damaged by shrapnel and other
damage. More than 200 people died during the siege, and 632 people were
injured.
Other vestiges of the war are prominently displayed in bookstores
and tourist shops. A video called Dubrovnik in War shows film
footage from the siege. A collection of essays about the war bears the same
title. One essay by Igor Zidic speaks of the war in Croatia as a religious war
Serbs waged on the non-Orthodox, a charge that is fraught with as much
ambiguity as the claim that the United States is currently involved in a war of
religion with the Muslim world. The war pitted Croats and Serbs against each
other, not Catholics and the Orthodox, said Raic. But as a national church, the
Serbian Orthodox church is also deeply entwined with the Serbian nation, with
all Serbs, regardless of whether they are baptized and viewed as members of the
Orthodox church.
Fathoming what went wrong
For outsiders, it can be difficult to fathom just what went wrong
in the Balkans. People in Dubrovnik talk about Serbs desire to dominate
the other nationalities within Yugoslavia, the disproportion between the money
Croats sent to Belgrade and the money Croats received back from the Yugoslav
capital. They mention Belgrades unwillingness to see such a valuable
asset as Croatia, which possessed rich agricultural land along with a beautiful
coastline, leave Yugoslavia when Croatia, along with Slovenia, voted to secede
from the Yugoslavia federation. They speak as well of the inherent
artificiality of the Yugoslav state crafted by the Allies following World War
I.
With the collapse of communism, nationalism rose, instigated
initially by intellectuals and academics whose claims on behalf of the cause of
ethnic identity paved the way for the eventual acquisition of territory.
Jasminka Udovicki, a professor of sociology at the Massachusetts College of Art
and co-editor of the book Burn This House: The Making and Unmaking of
Yugoslavia, described the phenomenon of political ethno-kitsch
where the different ethnic groups within Yugoslavia came to believe themselves
victims of the others.
Raic, prior of the Dominican monastery, said its difficult
for Americans to understand the war in the Balkans. We understand
nationality differently than you do in the United States. The Turks in Germany
are not Germans but Turks. Maybe they have German passports, but everyone sees
them as Turks. The Croats in Croatia are Croatians. So are the Croatians in
Bosnia.
The Western powers hasty recognition of the new nations
seceding from Yugoslavia without due regard for the ethnic makeup of those
nations and the safeguarding of minority rights within them was a serious
error, said NATOs Tiemes, who pointed out that the largest migration of
people during the entire history of the 10-year ongoing crisis in the Balkans
was the emigration of the Serb population in the Krajina area of Croatia. There
Croatia and the Yugoslav Army fought for control of an area where a
predominantly Serb population had lived for 400 years. By the end of the war
between Yugoslavia and Croatia, approximately 200,000 Croatian Serbs had fled
or been forced out of the Krajina.
The Vatican early on lobbied for the rapid recognition of Slovenia
and Croatia, two predominantly Roman Catholic nations. Germany and Austria also
pressed for early recognition, and were eventually joined by other Western
nations blind to the destabilizing effects of the breakup of the Yugoslav
Federation and the forces of nationalism they were abetting.
For the Catholic church in Dubrovnik, Croatian independence, along
with the end of communism, has brought new freedom and new opportunities.
Previously, under the relatively benign form of socialism practiced in
Titos Yugoslavia, religious believers were not persecuted so much as
excluded from leadership roles.
The church was put into the sacristy, explained Fr.
Frano Markic, a Catholic priest in Dubrovnik. It was forbidden to
publicly express its own teaching. Somehow the church was imprisoned. The army,
the police, the school, all these essential organs in the state, Catholics were
not allowed to be members there.
In a region where religion serves as a marker of ethnic identity
and where Catholic Croats, Bosnian Muslims, and Orthodox Serbs come from a
common ethnic stock yet seeing themselves as distinct nationalities, Markic
sees ecumenism as the special challenge confronting the Catholic church today.
The war has sharpened the divisions among people, strengthening their sense of
national identity. In the process, Catholics have come to feel more Catholic,
the Orthodox more Orthodox and the Muslims more Muslim.
Call it patriotism or nationalism, national sentiment runs strong
in Dubrovnik, as in other parts of Croatia. Few in Dubrovnik seem to mourn the
dismemberment of a multi-ethnic Yugoslavia or question the value and cost of
Croatian independence. But with the passage of time, more questions have been
raised about the conduct of the war. One Dubrovnik resident mentioned rumors
that Croatias President Tudjman may have incited the Yugoslav Army to
attack Dubrovnik to gain international sympathy for Croatia. In an essay
written by Ejub Stitkovac in Burn This House, the author provides some
support for this theory and cites similar claims made by refugees from Vukovar
that Tudjman withheld military support for Vukovars defense in order to
dramatize the cause of Croatian independence.
Scars of war
In Dubrovnik, the war has left scars that most people say will
linger for years.
People thought why? They didnt do anything. Some kind
of inner revenge came on the people, said Markic.
Anne, a soft-spoken 22-year-old student at the university in
Dubrovnik who didnt wish to give her last name, seemed surprised when
asked if people in Dubrovnik were bitter because of what had happened during
the war. A little, she conceded, because there had been a lot
of damage. A few minutes later, Anne mentioned she would never visit
nearby Serbia.
I wouldnt travel there because I dont like these
people. After what they have done here and in Vukovar, I think they are not
human, she said.
The 14th-century Franciscan monastery in Dubrovnik stands on the
marble-paved Placa, just inside the main gate to the city and close to the city
walls. Its one of the few buildings in the Old City with scaffolding
still visible. Fifty shells fell on the monastery during the war, including two
on the library housing a collection of 70,000 volumes. In the course of
reconstruction, eight Gothic windows were discovered that the Institute for the
Restoration of Dubrovnik now wants to restore to their original condition. A
cheerful Padre Mario showed a visitor around the area of the reconstruction. In
the large refectory where the library was moved to after the bombing on Dec. 6,
1991, and where it remained for eight years, Padre Mio spoke humorously about
the upsurge of piety during the war. So many people were saying the
rosary, even in their cars, he rolled his eyes.
When it came to discussing the effects of the war, he turned
somber. To forget is impossible, he said matter-of-factly.
Padre Mario spoke of the paradox posed by a God who is both
merciful and just. If we go to God and say we are sorry, he will forgive us,
said Padre Mario. But if we are not sorry? The priest poses the question and
leaves it hanging in air.
Its very difficult to forgive, especially if somebody
is killed or their house is burnt, Padre Mario said. Its
difficult to get rid of hatred. Today Montenegro is ready to say it is sorry.
Serbia is not.
Unemployment is high in Croatia, around 22 percent. People say
there are problems with soldiers experiencing post-traumatic stress disorder.
Still, residents in Dubrovnik are optimistic that better times are ahead. The
tourists are returning, lured by the sea -- described here as the cleanest in
the world -- and the climate, the tropical vegetation and the charm of the old
buildings in town. For tourists, the recent war adds if anything an extra
fillip of interest to their visits to the churches and Renaissance palaces. For
Dubrovnik inhabitants, the siege of 10 years ago is something to put behind
them as best they can.
We had a very, very difficult period in our lives. We have
to go forward, said Maro Konjevod, a Dubrovnik shopkeeper.
But like millions of people throughout the former Yugoslavia, the
inhabitants of Dubrovnik go forward into a different future because of the war,
the events of the past 10 years having marked them in ways both large and
small.
We are not the same people as we were 10 years ago,
said Konjevod. The syndrome of war is lying deep in our bodies.
Margot Patterson is NCRs senior writer. Her e-mail
address is mpatterson@natcath.org
Related Web sites |
Croatian Conference of
Bishops www.hbk.hr
Croatian Heritage
Foundation www.matis.hr/en
Institute for the Restoration of
Dubrovnik www.laus.hr/zod
UNESCO www.unesco.org |
National Catholic Reporter, November 2,
2001
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