TomPaine.commentary
A GIFT FROM THE ASHES OF WAR
Rediscovering Simple Beauties and Lasting Values
AUDIO: Click here to listen to Mrs. Teodosijevic-Ryan's commentary.
To download RealPlayer for free, click here.
Sharon Basco produced this commentary.
On the bright autumn morning of September 11, I felt a rush of deja vu ... I was there again, in a place flooded suddenly with the impending doom of war.
I was a broadcast journalist in Belgrade in 1991, when it became clear that Yugoslavia was heading into war. There were 30 dead in ethnic violence; a fraction of the 300,000 victims to come.
My friends and I gathered in total panic. Zorica was hiding her son from the draft, dying of fear that military police might find him and drag him away. Nada had a newborn grandchild. The mother of two teenagers, I knew the paramilitia -- disapproving of my trying-to-be-nonpartisan journalism -- might break into our home.
Things got worse. People lost their loved ones. Some had parts of their bodies blasted away. Houses were shelled and burned. It was the end of the 20th century, but Sarajevo was in a medieval siege for four years. "Ours" killed "theirs", and "theirs" killed "ours." Belgrade and its children were bombed for the sins of their hate-filled and hidden-in-the-bunker President Milosevic. And yet, in all that time, I was never so fearful and panic-stricken as I had been on that morning at the very start. It was the fear of unknown evil, an uncertain future.
That frightful morning came to me again on September 11. It transformed peaceful America: we now count time as "before" and "after" that day. Unimaginable tragedy unfolded in front our eyes and TV screens. It was even more of a shock because it came on a peaceful autumn day. None of us will ever forget it. We grieve for the dead, but we also grieve for the safe, the best of the best, the undisturbing world we once believed we lived in.
My native country, the former Yugoslavia, and my current home, the U.S., are quite different places with different roots of war. But the lessons of violence are the same everywhere. So my ears are very sensitive to calls for revenge. I know that call, and I know that it only escalates the spiral of violence.
I am also very sensitive to the calls to "unite" the nation in the times of war. That's when the fight against the enemy is the sole priority, when all other issues are put to sleep. But battling the outside enemy can be an excuse for the government to take more control and power, and use it in ways that citizens could later regret.
In this announced war against terrorism, should we forget the civic priorities? What about universal health coverage? Or better schools? Or whatever was important to us before September 11? If we now put democracy on hold, how will we remember what it looked like?
The aim of terrorism is not just to destroy its immediate target but to spread fear, to humiliate, to transform life. Those of us in Yugoslavia who stood against the war often felt totally helpless in the face of the massive destructive powers around us. But we kept faith during that frustrating turmoil by devoting our energy to preserving normality in life. We refused to succumb to the black and white world of hate. We kept taking our walks by the river, and we kept in touch with friends who were supposed to be our enemies. We discovered -- and cherished -- what really meant something to us in life.
And I sense that here in the U.S., after the first shock, frustration and anger, Americans are becoming pensive about things that happened. Pensive about the reasons behind the tragedy as much as about the future. Pensive about what holds the most value for them in life, what their priorities are.
When I think back to my experience, it strikes me that this need to think deeply about the real meaning of life, that came to us in the worst of times, turned out, quite unexpectedly, to be a golden gift. We rediscovered simple beauties and lasting values that we had perhaps neglected in easier days. And by honoring those values, we somehow went on with dignity.
I know that this is bad time for Americans, but I can only hope, and believe, that they will be granted the same gift.
This is Jasmina Teodosijevic-Ryan for Tom Paine.com.
A GIFT FROM THE ASHES OF WAR
Rediscovering Simple Beauties and Lasting Values
Jasmina Teodosijevic-Ryan is a broadcast journalist with an extensive background in Yugoslav media, and served as an analyst for the United Nations Liaison Office in Belgrade. Her critically-acclaimed first novel, "The Doll Hospital" was published in Belgrade last year.
AUDIO: Click here to listen to Mrs. Teodosijevic-Ryan's commentary.
To download RealPlayer for free, click here.
Sharon Basco produced this commentary.
On the bright autumn morning of September 11, I felt a rush of deja vu ... I was there again, in a place flooded suddenly with the impending doom of war.
I was a broadcast journalist in Belgrade in 1991, when it became clear that Yugoslavia was heading into war. There were 30 dead in ethnic violence; a fraction of the 300,000 victims to come.
My friends and I gathered in total panic. Zorica was hiding her son from the draft, dying of fear that military police might find him and drag him away. Nada had a newborn grandchild. The mother of two teenagers, I knew the paramilitia -- disapproving of my trying-to-be-nonpartisan journalism -- might break into our home.
Things got worse. People lost their loved ones. Some had parts of their bodies blasted away. Houses were shelled and burned. It was the end of the 20th century, but Sarajevo was in a medieval siege for four years. "Ours" killed "theirs", and "theirs" killed "ours." Belgrade and its children were bombed for the sins of their hate-filled and hidden-in-the-bunker President Milosevic. And yet, in all that time, I was never so fearful and panic-stricken as I had been on that morning at the very start. It was the fear of unknown evil, an uncertain future.
That frightful morning came to me again on September 11. It transformed peaceful America: we now count time as "before" and "after" that day. Unimaginable tragedy unfolded in front our eyes and TV screens. It was even more of a shock because it came on a peaceful autumn day. None of us will ever forget it. We grieve for the dead, but we also grieve for the safe, the best of the best, the undisturbing world we once believed we lived in.
My native country, the former Yugoslavia, and my current home, the U.S., are quite different places with different roots of war. But the lessons of violence are the same everywhere. So my ears are very sensitive to calls for revenge. I know that call, and I know that it only escalates the spiral of violence.
I am also very sensitive to the calls to "unite" the nation in the times of war. That's when the fight against the enemy is the sole priority, when all other issues are put to sleep. But battling the outside enemy can be an excuse for the government to take more control and power, and use it in ways that citizens could later regret.
In this announced war against terrorism, should we forget the civic priorities? What about universal health coverage? Or better schools? Or whatever was important to us before September 11? If we now put democracy on hold, how will we remember what it looked like?
The aim of terrorism is not just to destroy its immediate target but to spread fear, to humiliate, to transform life. Those of us in Yugoslavia who stood against the war often felt totally helpless in the face of the massive destructive powers around us. But we kept faith during that frustrating turmoil by devoting our energy to preserving normality in life. We refused to succumb to the black and white world of hate. We kept taking our walks by the river, and we kept in touch with friends who were supposed to be our enemies. We discovered -- and cherished -- what really meant something to us in life.
And I sense that here in the U.S., after the first shock, frustration and anger, Americans are becoming pensive about things that happened. Pensive about the reasons behind the tragedy as much as about the future. Pensive about what holds the most value for them in life, what their priorities are.
When I think back to my experience, it strikes me that this need to think deeply about the real meaning of life, that came to us in the worst of times, turned out, quite unexpectedly, to be a golden gift. We rediscovered simple beauties and lasting values that we had perhaps neglected in easier days. And by honoring those values, we somehow went on with dignity.
I know that this is bad time for Americans, but I can only hope, and believe, that they will be granted the same gift.
This is Jasmina Teodosijevic-Ryan for Tom Paine.com.
