Chase. Caitlin reserved. 2015 rights Copyright€¦ · 1 Julie Mertus defines ‘Truth’ as “the meaning given to facts, experience and myth” (2). This ‘Truth’ differs from

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

This Land Is Your Land, This Land is My Land

Narrative Healing Through Affective Engagement in Kosovo

Caitlin Chase

December 29, 2010

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

2

INTRODUCTION

In the late 1990s, the American community slowly became conscious of a burgeoning

crisis in Kosovo. Television screens flashed with images of refugees and shocking stories of

ethnic cleansing. Watching from afar, secure within the parameters of another culture, another

country, and another reality, such profound violence seemed incomprehensible. The American

public demonized the perpetrators: evil, maniacs, terrorists, killers. We condemned. There was

refuge in the notion that such brutality was borne of a few errant individuals. The safety of

distance fostered the fantasy that such atrocity would never penetrate the American existence.

PART I

A Brief History of the Conflict in Kosovo: 1974-2000

In order to better grasp the universal vulnerability to violence, and thus to effectively

direct ethico-political action toward its prevention in Kosovo and other territories, we must first

understand the history behind the atrocity. For centuries, Serbian and Albanian ethnic

communities have clashed over the right to Kosovar territory. The shared history comprises a

long, complex, and often unclear fight for political and economic power in the province. In 1974 a

new Yugoslav Constitution granted Kosovo the status of a sovereign republic. The years following

marked “a veritable Albanian national renaissance” in the form of a flourishing academic and

political presence in Kosovo (Judah 38). The Yugoslavian president, Josip Broz Tito, who had

mediated the creation of a united republic, died in May of 1980. When conflict subsequently

erupted between Serbs and Albanians, the Serbians populace increasingly emigrated from

Kosovo. In September of 1986, in response to the migration, the Serbian press published

Memorandum, drafted by members of the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts (SANU). The

document stated:

According to all evidence, faced with a physical, moral and psychological reign of terror,

[the Serbian nation seems] to be preparing for their final exodus. Unless things change

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

3

radically, in less than ten years’ time there will no longer be any Serbs left in Kosovo, and

an ‘ethnically pure’ Kosovo, that unambiguously stated goal of the Greater Albanian

racists... will be achieved (as cited in Judah 2002: 50).

The release of the Memorandum fueled the Serbian nationalist movement. Shortly thereafter, on

April 24, 1987, Slobodan Milošević, then the leader of the Serbian Communist Party, addressed a

group of Kosovo Serbs protesting in Kosovo Polje. In this speech he infamously declared, “No

one shall dare to beat you again!” Julie Mertus states that this “is remembered as the seminal

moment in Milošević’s career, the point at which he turned into the protector of the Serbian

nation” (1999:143). The phrase was to become a rallying cry for Serbian nationalists.

Over the summer of 1987 hostility continued to escalate between Serbian and Albanian

communities. On September 3rd Aziz Kelmendi, an Albanian soldier in the Yugoslav National

Army (JNA), opened fire in army barracks. The Paraćin Massacre, as the event came to be

known, left four dead and five wounded. Kelmendi was later found dead in what was said to be a

suicide. Eight men were tried as accomplices based upon their sworn ‘confessions.’ However,

throughout the trial, the accused would claim that the statements had been coerced. (Mertus

1999:150). Serbian and Albanian ‘Truths’ about the event collided.1 Kosovar Albanians believed a

distressed Kelmendi acted alone, and the supposed conspirators had been framed. On the other

hand, most Serbs understood the massacre to be evidence of Albanian irredentist conspiracy

(Mertus 1999: 151). Media representations of the massacre were vehemently anti-Albanian. NIN,

a Yugoslavian news publication, reported: “The causes of the murder were... deeply rooted in the

upbringing [of the men]... Those who raised them and guided them taught them nationalism,

which means that love for their own nation means hatred for other nations” (as cited in Mertus

1999: 151). The aftermath of the massacre thus bolstered the growing Serbian nationalist

movement.

1 Julie Mertus defines ‘Truth’ as “the meaning given to facts, experience and myth” (2). This ‘Truth’ differs from ‘truth’ in that the former is the product of power relations, while the latter may be understood as an ‘all-or-nothing’ factual account.

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

4

In November 1988, with the cooperation of the local party committee, Milošević

dismissed Kosovar Albanian communist leaders. As Serbia continued to centralize control over

Kosovo, ethnic Albanian protests intensified. In February 1989, 1300 miners in Trepča went on an

underground hunger strike. The strike provoked rallies of solidarity throughout Slovenia and

Kosovo. Due to the uproar, under Milošević’s guidance, the Serbian Federal Assembly imposed

martial law in Kosovo. This entailed “imposing curfews, riot police, and administrative detention.

Key industries were placed under compulsory work orders, prohibiting strikes” (Mertus 1999:

181). In addition, Serbian federal troops were dispersed throughout Kosovo. Ethnic Albanian

demonstrations were increasingly met with violence from the military police. Criminal charges

were also filed against many protestors.

During this time, between July 1988 and the spring of 1989, Milošević organized

‘Meetings of Truth’ throughout Serbia. Over one hundred of these rallies occurred, involving a

total of approximately 5 million people (Judah 2002: 54). On November 19, 1988 at a

demonstration in Belgrade Milošević proclaimed, “Every nation has a love which eternally warms

it heart. For Serbia, it is Kosovo. That is why Kosovo will remain in Serbia” (Judah 2002: 55).

Such rhetoric, speaking of the Serbian claim to the Kosovar homeland, was typical of the

“Meetings of Truth.’

On May 8, 1989, Milošević became the president of Serbia. On June 28th – the

anniversary of the Battle of Kosovo – he addressed a crowd of approximately one million Serbs

(Judah 2002: 56). In the speech, Milošević strategically referenced the story of the Serbian Prince

Lazar. Serbian epics state that, prior to battle with the Ottomans, Lazar was called to make a

choice between “a kingdom on earth, with all the riches that that entailed or [to] die for the empire

of heaven... for truth and justice and the everlasting?” (Judah 2002: 5). As the story goes, Lazar

chose the latter and, thus, the Turkish Empire conquered Kosovo. Following the Ottoman

occupation, the predominantly Orthodox Serbian population migrated north. The Albanians, many

who were Muslim like the Turks, garnered significant political power in Kosovo during this time.

Mythology about the defeat at the Battle of Kosovo and the subsequent Turkish occupation of

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

5

Kosovo has framed the Serbian national narrative. This mythology asserts both the historical

persecution of the Serbs, as well as their rightful claim to the territory of Kosovo.

In the following year any lingering Kosovar autonomy rapidly disintegrated. In July 1989,

the Serbian Parliament passed the Law on the Restriction of Property Transactions, which

forbade Albanians from selling real estate without approval from a commission of the Serbian

Ministry of Finance. This law was meant to halt the migration of Serbs from Kosovo. On March

30, 1990, the Serbian government adopted The Program for the Realization of Peace, Freedom,

Equality, Democracy and the Prosperity of the Socialist Autonomous Province of Kosovo, which

forced the majority of Albanians with positions in the civil service or the public sector to resign

(Judah 2002: 62). Furthermore, the Albanian curriculum was dismantled and replaced by Serbian

academics. The discrepancy between the naming of the Program and its actual outcomes is a

profound example of the propaganda implemented by Milošević.

In the spring of 1990, in the midst of the political upheaval, thousands of Albanian school

children fell ill with stomach pains, hallucinations, and breathing issues. Kosovar Albanians

asserted that Serbs had poisoned the children with neurotoxins. The Serbian population believed

the ordeal was a propaganda stunt intended to stir up sympathy for the Albanian cause (Mertus

1999: 188). To this day there is no decisive ‘Truth’ about the event due to the multiple,

contradicting reports produced by both sides. The controversy further amplified mistrust between

the two communities.

Finally, on September 28, 1990, the Serbian Assembly passed a new constitution that

officially revoked the sovereign status of Kosovo and Vojvodina. Serbia thus possessed both

political and institutional power in Kosovo. In response, Kosovar Albanians organized the

Democratic League of Kosova (LDK), which promoted a political strategy of non-confrontation.

They formed a parallel state, including a system of private schools and alternative health care. On

May 24, 1992, the LDK hosted illegal parliamentary elections that established Ibrahim Rugova as

president. They also developed a system to collect taxes from Kosovar Albanians and the

diaspora community (Judah 2002: 68).

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

6

During the mid-1990s the sociopolitical environment in Kosovo remained tense, but

stable. While there were many localized instances of violence between the two demographics,

crisis did not erupt until the end of the decade. On July 23, 1997, Milošević was elected president

of Yugoslavia. He held this position until October 2000. That fall, the Kosovo Liberation Army

(KLA), an Albanian resistance military, began to make its presence known publically. The KLA’s

aggressive mode of opposition sharply contrasted the LDK’s passive resistance. At a funeral for a

fallen solider, a uniformed KLA member made a speech: “Serbia is massacring Albanians. The

KLA is the only force which is fighting for the liberation and national unity of Kosovo!” (Judah 136-

7). The proclamation was subsequently disseminated throughout Kosovo by news media.

At the beginning of 1998, the brewing hostility came to a violent climax. On February 28th

and March 1st, Serbian special forces attacked Cirez and Likosane in the central Drenica Valley.

Days later, special forces attacked Prekaz, killing a well-known KLA member, Adem Jashari, and

the majority of his family. In these three attacks, which came to be known as the Drenica

Massacre, 83 people lost their lives, including 24 women and children (Judah 2002: 140). Serbian

police denied any wrongdoing. The attacks drove many ethnic Albanians, who were former

proponents of the LDK’s non-violent resistance, to join the KLA. Immediately following the

Drenica Massacre the situation in Kosovo was characterized as an ‘armed conflict’ and deemed

subject to international humanitarian law. On March 31st, the UN Security Council passed

resolution 1160, which imposed an arms embargo on Yugoslavia, condemned violence on both

sides, and called for a negotiated settlement.

While initially a regionalized operation, KLA slowly gained access to a more reliable arms

supply and began to centralize command. By mid-1998 the KLA had assumed control over

approximately 40 percent of Kosovo’s territory. Although members of the KLA repetitively

articulated the organization’s commitment to honoring international conventions of war, Serbian

citizens in land under KLA control “were harassed or terrorized into leaving, by assaults,

kidnapping, and sporadic killing.” (Under orders 2001: 100). The violence between the two

ethnicities continued to escalate.

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

7

On May 15th, Milošević and Rugova met for negotiations in Belgrade without international

mediators. While no resolution was reached, Milošević agreed to continue talks. In the following

week, Serbian military violated international humanitarian law during an offensive along the

border with Albania. Consequently, Rugova called off further negotiations. On June 16th,

Milošević met with Russian president Boris Yeltsin. At Yeltsin’s urging, he agreed to continue

conversation with Kosovar Albanians, to allow unimpeded access for humanitarian organizations,

and ‘to commit no repressive actions against peaceful populations.’ The Milošević-Yeltsin

meeting also brought about the Kosovo Diplomatic Observer Mission (KDOM) whose purpose

was to report upon freedom of movement and security status in Kosovo (Under orders 2001: 45).

By August of 1998 Serbian forces had recaptured much of the territory that was

previously possessed by the KLA. According to the Human Rights Watch report (2001):

[Serbian] government forces attacked civilians, systematically destroyed towns, and

forced thousands of people to flee their homes. The police were repeatedly seen looting

homes, destroying already abandoned villages, burning crops, and killing farm animals,

as well as committing summary executions, all violations of the rules of war. The majority

of those killed and injured were civilians. At least 250,000 people were displaced

between May and September 1998, according to UNHCR, many of them women and

children (Under orders 47).

There is question as to whether the KLA deliberately provoked attacks from Serbian forces

against Albanian civilians to engage Western sympathy and involvement in the conflict (Under

orders 2001: 53). Between February and October 1998 at least one hundred Kosovar Albanians

‘disappeared’ and over 500 ethnic Albanians were detained under accusations of committing

‘terrorist attacks’ (Under orders 2001: 48). Torture was widespread in such circumstances. In

September 1998, 21 members of an ethnic Albanian family were killed in Gornje Obrinje. That

same month, at Lake Radonjic, near Glodjane, Serbian police found 34 bodies, including those of

ethnic Albanians, of people believed to have been murdered by the KLA (Under orders 2001: 13).

The Serbian government simultaneously harassed, hindered, and attacked humanitarian

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

8

organizations, claiming that aid workers were supplying the KLA. They also restricted the ability of

domestic and foreign journalists to report the violence. Such actions further contributed to the

suffering of the Kosovar population.

Meanwhile, Milošević continued to strategically establish political dominance. In 1998 and

1999, the Yugoslavian military was comprise of the Yugoslav Army, also known as Vojska

Jugoslavija, or VJ, and the Republic of Serbia’s Ministry of Internal Affairs, commonly known as

MUP. MUP encompassed the regular police in Kosovo, the special police, the Anti-Terrorist

Forces, as well as the secret police, whose special operations unit, the JSO, assisted paramilitary

groups. JSO played a major role in monitoring the actions of the KLA. Under Milošević, MUP was

the dominant military force, as he perceived them to be the more loyal of the two. Until April 1998,

the Serbian police were the only active force in Kosovo. The army was predominantly devoted to

border security. However, in late 1998 and early 1999, Milošević replaced key members of VJ

with personal acquaintances who were known for their hard-line stances regarding the KLA, thus

bringing the army to a more central role in the Kosovar conflict (Under orders 2001: 75-8).

On December 13th, the Serbian army killed over 30 ethnic Albanians along the border

with Albania. The following day, in an act of assumed retribution, six Serbians youths were killed

in Pec. On January 15, 1999, the reciprocal violence came to a head when conflict broke out

between the Serbian police force and the KLA near Račak. After the KLA retreated, the police

entered Račak. The following morning, 45 were found dead, including a 12-year-old boy, two

women, and nine KLA soldiers. The Human Rights Watch report states that it was “clear that

most of these men were fired upon from close range as they offered no resistance. Some of them

were apparently shot while trying to run away” (as cited in Judah 2002: 193). Three days later,

Chief Prosecutor Louise Arbour of the War Crimes Tribunal was denied entry into Kosovo to

investigate the incident.

Finally, after years of limited intervention in the Kosovar conflict, NATO issued a

statement on January 30th declaring their intent:

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

9

...to halt the violence and support the completion of negotiations on an interim political

settlement for Kosovo, thus averting a humanitarian catastrophe. Steps to this end must

include acceptance by both parties of the summons to begin negotiations... If these steps

are not taken, NATO is ready to take whatever measures are necessary... The Council

has therefore agreed today that the NATO Secretary General may authorize air strikes

against targets on FRY territory (Judah 2002: 195)

Following this declaration, Serbian and Albanian delegations traveled to Rambouillet, France for

an internationally mediated conference. The Albanian commission demanded that the proposed

agreement include a clause on a referendum for Kosovar independence, while the Serbian

commission resisted any military implementation force. As both sides refused to acquiesce, an

agreement was not reached. The delegates were invited back to Paris on March 15th. In March,

Hashim Thaci, one of the founders of the KLA and the spokesperson of the Kosovar Albanian

delegation, stated the Kosovars would be “honored to sign the Agreement in your presence at a

time and place of your choosing” (Judah 2002: 222). When the negotiators met with the Serbian

commission, the delegates presented a new version of the Rambouillet agreement, which was

deemed unacceptable by the negotiators. Although Kosovars signed the original agreement, the

talks were adjourned without mutual resolution.

Days later, on March 22nd, Milošević completed governmental purges. As a result, the

United States envoy, Richard Holbrooke, informed Milošević that unless he complied air strikes

would begin (Judah 2002: 227). Milošević did not back down and the following day the Yugoslav

government declared a state of emergency. On March 24th at 8:00 pm NATO initiated the

bombing of Yugoslavia. In the years following, many international officials would claim they

assumed that Milošević would cave within a matter of days. Such was not the case.

Instead, beginning on March 31st, tens of thousands of Kosovar Albanians were rounded

up at gunpoint, put onto trains, and deported. By April 4, 1999, the UNHCR and NATO had begun

to respond to the immense exodus and started to construct refugee camps in neighboring

countries (Judah 2002: 252). Ultimately, via this process of ethnic cleansing, “850,000 [ethnic

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

10

Albanians] were either deported or fled, and thousands more were displaced inside” (Judah 2002:

241). The deportation process also incorporated what was deemed ‘identity cleansing,’ in which

all identification documents and license plates were taken before refugees were allowed to cross

the border.

Typically during the ethnic cleansing operations, “the army would secure the perimeter of

an areas while paramilitaries went in” (Judah 2002: 245-6). Much of the most egregious violence

was attributed to the paramilitary groups. Tim Judah cites the account of Marko, a criminal who

was recruited to the Serbian forces. In the statement, Marko speaks of the paramilitary group

Munja:

Munja was given names of people, on lists, to liquidate, or arrest... But Munja’s main

interest was in robbing people and in raping women... They weren’t disciplined like us...

We did what we were ordered to. Now, if I had been ordered to kill women and children, I

would have. But I wasn’t. Men, yes. These guys from Munja, I mean they would just go in

and kill. It didn’t matter, women, children... It’s not really war. It’s total destruction. That

was the way cleansing happened (Judah 2002: 248).

As evidenced in Marko’s account, humanitarian violations were rampant. The Human Rights

Watch report found that “the killings had three apparent motives. The first was to expedite the

‘cleansing’ process through intimidation and fear. The second was the targeting of individuals

suspected of fighting with or assisting the KLA... The third was killing for revenge” (Under orders

6). Rape and sexual assault of ethnic Albanians were implemented as instruments of terror,

extortion, and to motivate flight from Kosovo. Human Rights Watch investigators found credible

evidence of 96 cases of sexual violence by Serbian police, Yugoslav soldiers, or paramilitary

members during the time of NATO bombing. The organization states that rape generally occurred

in one of three ways: in women’s homes, during flight, or while in detention. “In the first category,

security forces entered private homes and raped women in front of family members, in the yard,

or in an adjoining room” (Under orders 2001: 8). Theft and the destruction of civilian property

were also prevalent.

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

11

It is difficult to ascertain the exact death toll between March and June 1999 due to the

exaggerated figures stated by NATO during the war, and the intentional destruction of evidence

and removal of bodies by Serbian and Yugoslav governments. However, by July 2001, the

International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) had exhumed around 4,300

bodies from mass graves. Serbian authorities also reported the discovery of four graves in Serbia

with approximately 1,000 ethnic Albanian bodies. In the process of exhuming graves, the U.N.

Security Council discovered ‘incontrovertible evidence’ of grave tampering and the removal of

bodies. 3,525 people, including ethnic Serbians, remain missing. (Under orders 2001: 122)

Beyond the inter-ethnic violence, NATO’s intervention also resulted in civilian casualties.

While few disagree that international involvement in Kosovo was necessary, several of NATO’s

tactical approaches have been questioned. In the first few months of the campaign, from March

24th to May 7th, NATO dropped more than 1,500 cluster bombs over Yugoslavia. According to the

Human Rights Watch: “as inherently indiscriminate weapons when used in urban areas and

because of their high failure rate, cluster bombs pose a serious and disproportionate danger to

the civilian population” (Under orders 13). Furthermore, in early May, NATO began to attack

electricity plants, telecommunications systems, and bridges. This infrastructure was necessary for

not only military survival, but also civilian. Consequently, the ethics of this strategy were highly

questioned (Judah 258). NATO’s credibility was also damaged by an unintentional strike on an

Albanian refugee convoy near Djakovica and an accidental attack of the Chinese embassy. All in

all, estimates of total civilian casualties from NATO’s aerial campaign range from 500 to 2,000.

(Judah 264).

On June 3, 1999, Milošević finally surrendered. A week later, NATO suspended bombing

and the UN Security Council passed Resolution 1244. The document sanctioned the entry of

NATO troops into Kosovo and guaranteed Yugoslavian sovereignty. On June 12th, the Kosovo

Force (KFOR), a NATO-led international peacekeeping unit, entered Kosovo. Within a matter of

months, more than 800,000 refugees migrated back to the province (Judah 2002: 286). This was

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

12

the most rapid and largest refugee return in modern history. The Albanians returned with a

vengeance, both literally and figuratively.

As the exiled community of ethnic Albanians flooded back into Kosovar territory, the

Serbian population fled for their lives. A report by the UNHCR released in November spoke of “a

climate of violence and impunity, as well as widespread discrimination, harassment, and

intimidation directed at non-Albanians” (Judah 292). Hungry for revenge, returning Albanians

terrorized their former persecutors – burning and looting property and assaulting Serbs. The

Albanian leader, Venton Surroi, spoke out against the violence:

We Kosovo Albanians are also capable of such monstrous acts. I have to speak out to

make it clear that our moral code, by which women, children and elderly should be left

unharmed, has been and is being violated. I know the obvious excuse, namely that we

have been through a barbaric war in which Serbs were responsible for the most heinous

crimes and in which the intensity of violence has generated a desire for vengeance

among many Albanians. This however is no justification (Judah 293).

Despite the international deployment, KFOR troops were poorly prepared to act as a civilian

police force and, therefore, unable to adequately stem the tide of violence. According to the

Human Rights Watch report, by the end of 2000 over 210,000 Serbs had left Kosovo and “those

who remained were increasingly concentrated in mono-ethnic enclaves” (Under orders 14).

Hundreds more were either killed or went missing. Serbian and Albanian communities mourned

their dead and struggled to rebuild psychically and physically. By the beginning of the 21st

century, under the glare of the international eye, Kosovo crept toward tense stability.

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

13

PART II

Sacred Fantasy

To begin to comprehend the roots of this vicious war requires the recognition of powerful

national and ethnic narratives. As stated by Renata Salecl (1994), “a country is not only ‘a piece

of land’, but a narration about this land,” a fantasy that cannot be symbolized (15). Every

individual, whether immersed in conflict or not, takes part in the sustenance of this fantasy. An

understanding of self is constructed, in part, based upon the narrative of the community that one

exists within. Reciprocally, the amalgamation of individual stories builds the narrative of the

national collective. These narratives – the fundamental foundations of human existence – are

ardently protected and nurtured by each individual and every community. The province of the

homeland is a necessary, tangible symbol of the of the otherwise fantasmic notion of a nation.

The physical space of home territory serves as a grounding force of the narrative. From this

perspective, violent conflict over land is a product of the urge to protect the sanctity of the national

narrative at all costs. Salecl (1994) proposes that:

The aim of war is to dismantle the fantasy structure of the enemy country. The aggressor

tries to destroy the very way the enemy perceives itself, the way it makes national myths

about certain territory, the way it takes this territory (or political system) as something

sacred, as a symbol of its existence... The aggressor’s primary aim is to destroy the

enemy’s beliefs and to dismantle the enemy’s identity (15).

War is the outcome of each population’s need to eradicate the opposing national fantasy

in order to secure their own. According to Elaine Scarry (1985), war also function to reconnect

“disembodied beliefs with the force and power of the world” through the wounding of bodies

(128). As such, “the factualness of corpses is now the factualness of the ideology or territorial

self-definition” (Scarry 1985: 143). Thus, in different yet similar manner, both human bodies and

territorial land serve to anchor a national narrative.

This understanding may help unearth the roots of the violence that has transpired in

Kosovo over the past several centuries. This small territory is integral to the national fantasies of

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

14

both Serbian and Albanian ethnic groups. Both lay claim to the province as ‘homeland’; the

Serbians maintain that they were the first to populate the land in the sixth or seventh century. The

Albanian community claims that their ancestors, the Illyrians, lived in the region long before,

during the time of the Roman Empire. Like much of Kosovar history, the ‘truth’ of this matter is

uncertain. Each collective’s positioning of Kosovo as homeland is fundamentally threatened by

the other’s national fantasy. In this understanding, violence works to eradicate the opponent’s

national fantasy, yet it may also act reciprocally to validate the mythology of the perpetrating

nation. The historian Dan Stone utilizes Roger Caillos’ conjecture of ‘war as festival’ to speak of

the revivification of the nation through transgressive violence. According to Stone (2004), through

the collective performance of violent acts, an ‘ecstatic community’ experiences a greater sense of

unity (57). Stone proposes that the “momentary participation in legitimized killing takes place in

heightened emotional conditions... it is a sacred participation, a divine transgression, since it is

carried out in the name of the community, purifying it, returning it to its myth” (54-5). Both Salecl

and Stone understand violence on behalf of the nation to be justified by the fantasy of the

salvation of a sacred entity. Both theories indicate the importance of the emotional roots of

violence and, accordingly, why attempts to prevent or halt war through economic operations may

be widely ineffective.

The notion of the national fantasy also helps us to better understand how Milošević was

able to rapidly rise to totalitarian power. His rhetorical strategy frequently aligned him with the

protection of the national fantasy. For example, Milošević invoked the narratives of the Battle of

Kosovo and Prince Lazar to engage nationalist sentiments. Milošević’s oration on May 8th is one

such illustration of the rhetorical strategy he implemented to secure a position of authority in

Serbia. Renata Salecl points to the careful balance of spoken and unspoken ideologies

represented in Milošević’s elocutions. He “spoke for a strong, unified Yugoslavia where all

nations would live in equality and brotherhood... Behind this, however, there was another level,

another message which was easily deciphered by his supporters... He aimed at crushing the

Albanians by turning them into second-rate citizens.” Milošević’s rhetoric thus engaged the

Serbian national ‘Truth’ through “a bricolage of heterogeneous elements, each of which ignites

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

15

the desire of Serbs: the revival of old Serbian nationalist myths, glorification of the Orthodox

church... sexual myths of the dirty Albanians fornicating all the time and raping innocent Serbian

girls” (Salecl 1994: 35-36). In co-opting the sacred fantasy, Milošević manipulated a captive

national audience. He was thus able to assume the total position of power that he held by the end

of the 1990s.

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

16

PART III

The Affect-ed Witness

We do not get close enough to touch or smell or know them. We do not want to see how easily we could become them – how quickly violence arrives, how swiftly people turn, embracing racist hate. We do not want to know or touch the parts of ourselves that are capable of behaving like them. Sometimes, if we are lucky, an image, a poem, an invitation to a foreign place pierces our perception.

from Necessary Targets by Eve Ensler

Although the storm of violence that ravaged Kosovo throughout the last decade has

calmed, testimonies of those involved in the conflict reveal the heavy burden of the memory of

atrocity. A former member of the Serbian army poignantly reflects:

And now I ask myself: Should I have been there? Was I delirious? Had I known what I

know today, maybe I wouldn’t have gone. Again, when you live through difficult trauma,

it’s hard to figure things out. I walk the streets, alone. I walk all day just thinking.

Sometimes I find that I was right to go to fight, other times I feel I was wrong. The

pictures from all that are still with me. I still see those innocent people dying. I see a

fighter killing a woman in front of her husband and her child. It’s something I can never

forget (HRW 70).

This testimony reveals a subtle fracturing in the national narrative. The physical reality of the

aftermath of war is far removed from the fantasy that justified the violence. Where such fractures

exist, we discover the possibility of dismantling an old, toxic national fantasy and crafting a new

one. First and foremost, in both an individual and in a communal sense, we must consider how to

honor such testimonies and the penetrating memories they bear? From an ethico-political

standpoint, what sort of testimonial encounter might ‘pierce our perception’ in a way that

facilitates an understanding of how this profound violence arises? And by what means can we

begin to reimagine or reconfigure the national narrative?

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

17

The sociologist Fuyuki Kurasawa proposes that the act of bearing witness to testimonies

of trauma has increasingly become a form of global ethico-political labor – one that occurs

beyond the boundaries of the original sites of violence. This sort of transnational witnessing is not

a monistic vision of testimony, but critically an intersubjective encounter between teller and

witness. Furthermore, this mode of bearing witness “consists of the sort of interpretive practices

that struggle to represent and make sense of that which exists at the threshold and in the

recesses of language, speech, writing and image... wrestling with the difficulties of portraying and

grasping marks testimonies’ ethico-political stakes” (Kurasawa 2009: 100). The representational

challenge illuminates the extremity of the violence, and yet, the testimonial exchange also relies

on universality in “certain points of intersection between vast experiential, historical and socio-

cultural divides” (Kurasawa 2009: 100). Kurasawa cites five tasks of transnational witnessing:

giving voice to mass suffering, interpretation of testimony, the cultivation of empathy,

remembrance of the atrocity, and prevention of similar violence (95).

How might the ethico-political labor of transnational witnessing referenced by Kurasawa

manifest? Jill Bennett proposes creation of, and engagement with, trauma-related visual art as

one form of testimonial exchange. Intrinsically, the making of this art fulfills Kurasawa’s first task

of witnessing: giving voice to suffering. It is important to note that the visual art Bennett speaks of

is not of the sort that aims to incite a sympathetic or identificatory response through portraying a

singular story of victims of trauma. This form of representation is vulnerable “to appropriation, to

reduction, and to mimicry” (Bennett 2005: 6). Bennett theorizes that the politics of testimony

“requires of art not a faithful translation of testimony; rather, it calls upon art to exploit its own

unique capacities to contribute actively to this politics” (Bennett 2005: 3). Critically, the visual art

she addresses evoke an affective experience in lieu of portraying the specifics of the traumatic

event. 2

2 Bennett (2005) speaks of affect as a bodily emotional or sensational reaction to art, as opposed to an initial intellectual understanding. While affect in art does lead to cognitive consideration, it is notably productive of ideas, rather than presenting a prescribed concept (8).

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

18

Bennett invokes Deleuze’s concept of the encountered sign to explore how the affective

nature of visual art triggers critical analysis of traumatic violence. She states:

For Deleuze, affect or emotion is a more effective trigger for profound thought because of

the way in which it grasps us, forcing us to engage involuntarily... On this account, art is

not conceptual in itself but rather an embodiment of sensation that stimulates thought

(Bennett 2005: 7-8).

Bennett theorizes that the concurrence of affect and critical thought facilitates empathy - one of

Kurasawa’s central tasks of transnational witnessing. This empathy is “grounded not in affinity

(feeling for another insofar as we can imagine being that other) but on a feeling for another that

entails an encounter with something irreducible and different, often inaccessible” (Bennett 2005:

10). While the affective dimension of empathy enables a ‘feeling for,’ the attendant critical insight

enables continued respect for the autonomy of the teller and their story. It is through this strategy

that the visual arts medium may thwart the colonization of individual experiences.

Bennett further proposes that when testimonies of trauma take affective form in visual art

they enter into the political, rather than the subjective, domain. Affect is intrinsically motile, a force

that cannot be located within a singular subjectivity. (Bennett 2005: 13). It is the affective force,

out of which the roles of victim, perpetrator, and bystander arise, that becomes the object of

political analysis. The affect registered in visual art is the point of intersection between different

subjectivities that Kurasawa speaks of. Ethico-political action is then grounded in the notion that

subjectivities are produced through affective flow. In that sense, affect and ideological narrative

co-construct each other. We thus arrive at the question: “in what ways are we (all) invested in,

even produced out of, the ‘flows’ or forces in motion across the globe – and how is ‘active evil’

constituted through us?” (Bennett 2005: 20). Through this lens, in cases of war or violent conflict,

it is no longer sufficient to simplistically delineate who is the perpetrator and who is the victim.

This is a particularly fruitful approach in the case of Kosovar violence. Both Serbian and

Albanian national narratives are built upon the ideological cornerstone of victimization. This is

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

19

explicitly evident in Serbian mythology, in which “the primary enemies are Albanians, who are

perceived as threatening to cut off the Serbian autonomous province of Kosovo and thereby

stealing Serbian land and culture... the Albanians are understood as pure Evil... dirty, fornicating,

rapacious, violent, primitive” (Salecl 1994: 22). As neither community is willing to relinquish their

‘Truth,’ the potential for future atrocity remains. I would propose that Bennett’s theory introduces a

means of destabilizing the foundations of both ‘Truths.’ Each national ‘Truth’ arises from, and

perpetuates, the elementary identity of ‘victim’. However, if the character of ‘victim’ is contingent,

then the foundation of each ‘Truth’ is inherently destabilized 3. As such, the political endeavor of

each nation is redirected at comprehending the ideological affective environment that has

cultivated both victims and perpetrators. Affective engagement illuminates the contingency of

these roles. Visual art can provides a point of intersection for Serbs and Albanians, as both

communities are constituted within the same affective force. As opposed to a political construct of

competing national fantasies (self versus Other), the ethico-political work of visual art points to

shared affective territory.

Furthermore, an affective approach to Kosovar trauma counteracts the moralistic impulse

to condemn. To return to the words of Eve Ensler (2003), “We do not want to know or touch the

parts of ourselves that are capable of behaving like them” (xi). It is only when the greater

international community sees that it, too, is also constituted by the affective force in question that

the assumed position of bystander is recognized as contingent. Through engaging with affective,

and thus critical, awareness a witness comes to ‘know’ his or her own potentiality as perpetrator

or victim. This ‘knowing’ is critical in order to execute Kurasawa’s final task of transnational

witnessing: prevention of similar atrocity. Mobile artistic mediums can bear the affective message

across geographic, cultural, and political boundaries, thus drawing a greater collective into the

ethico-political endeavor to witness. The affective experience in such art can redirect attention to

the greater forces that globally perpetuate the fantasy of victim-self and perpetrator-other, and

therefore, aid in the prevention of future violence.

3 The fluidity of these roles is evidenced by the violence inflicted by both Serbs and Albanians throughout the 1990’s.

Copyri

ght ©

2015

Cait

lin C

hase

.

All righ

ts res

erved

.

20

References

Bennett, J. (2005). Empathic vision: affect, trauma, and contemporary art. Stanford, CA: Stanford

University Press.

Ensler, E. (2003). Necessary targets. New York, NY: Dramatists Play Service, Inc.

Judah, T. (2002). Kosovo: war and revenge. United States : Yale University Press.

Kurasawa, F. (2009). A message in a bottle: bearing witness as a mode of transnational practice.

Theory, Culture & Society, 26(1), 92-111.

Mertus, J. (1999). Kosovo: how myths and truths started a war. Berkeley, CA: University of

California Press.

Salecl, R. (1994). The spoils of freedom: psychoanalysis and feminism after the fall of socialism.

New York, NY: Routledge.

Scarry, E. (1985). The body in pain: the making and unmaking of the world. New York, NY:

Oxford University Press.

Stone, D. (2004). Genocide as transgression. European Journal of Social Theory, 7(1), 45-65.

Under orders: war crimes in kosovo. (2001). United States: Human Rights Watch.