Miroslav Filipovic: non scrivete sul mio caso,ma delle cose di cui ho scritto.

[Paola Lucchesi <paola.lucchesi@mail.inet.it>]

<<Finche' si parlera' del mio "caso", le persone non faranno attenzione
alle cose di cui ho scritto. Il mio imprigionamento sara' visto solo come
una parte della battaglia per la liberta' d'espressione sotto il vecchio
regime - e il mio rilascio come una prova del successo di quello nuovo.
Celebreremo la nostra nuova vittoria ancora per molto tempo. Ma facendo
cosi' potremmo rimanere silenziosi proprio sui quelle cose che invece
dovremmo discutere. E con questo silenzio potremmo dimostrere che il regime
passato non era il solo problema dei cittadini della Serbia e della
Jugoslavia>>.

Nel suo articolo qui sotto, vedrete che Filipovic dice "non sono un eroe,
sono solo un giornalista locale di Kraljevo, nel sud della Serbia".

A me la parola eroe non piace, ma una cosa vorrei aggiungerla: ci vuole un
enorme coraggio per un giornalista serbo per palare ai suoi concittadini
delle atrocita' commesse da altri Serbi nelle guerra balcaniche. Molto piu'
coraggio che non a scendere in piazza. I cinque mesi di prigione non sono
nulla, in confronto all'isolamento che rischia, fra la sua stessa gente,
chi cerca di aprire il vaso di Pandora.

Qua da noi non e' ben chiaro che esiste, questo fenomeno: la rimozione, il
rifiuto di vedere. Colpisce tutti i popoli coinvolti nei conflitti, ogni
gruppo rifiuta di accettare che anche fra i suoi connazionali ci sono
quelli che hanno commesso crimini orrendi. E' uno shock psicologico
terribile, dover accettare questa realta'. Tutti sono pronti a puntare il
dito sui crimini degli altri, e a negare o minimizzare quelli degli
appartenenti al proprio gruppo.

A Trieste c'e' voluto mezzo secolo perche' gli uni smettessero di negare
che avevamo un lager nazista con tanto di forno crematorio, gli altri
accettassero di parlare delle foibe, gli abissi carsici dove i partigiani
titini avevano gettato tanta gente, anche innocente. Le ossa di tante
vittime giacevano sia in fondo al mare sia nel ventre del nostro Carso. E
guardare in faccia questo trauma non e' facile.

Queste parole sono dedicate alla gente normale, che non ha commesso alcun
crimine ne' mai lo commetterebbe, ma fa fatica a guardare in faccia la
realta'. proprio perche' tante storie d'orrore sembrano, appunto, storie
dell'orrore, ed ogni brava persona istintivamente se ne ritrae dicendo:
"non e' possibile, no, non la mia gente".

Purtroppo non c'e' solo qeusto, ci sono mille altre sfumature, da chi
sapeva e non sapeva, a chi pensa che in fondo la guerra e' guerra, fino a
chi, ahime', non ha problemi a dire "se lo sono meritato". C'e' anche
questo.

Si dibatte molto di tribunali, locali e internazionali, poco si parla di
capire. Fa troppo orrore, l'idea di esseri umani che fanno a pezzi altri
esseri umani, la reazione istintiva e' giudicare, punire - o rimuovere,
appunto.

Ma come faremo a liberarci della violenza senza capire dove viene, senza
andare alle radici di questi comportamenti sconvolgenti?

Mi piacerebbe raccogliere un po' di esperienze di persone che hanno avuto a
che fare con vari aspetti di questo pozzo nero dell'anima umana, e
ragionarci un po' su insieme. Se qualcuno ha un contributo da dare,
potrebbe per cortesia farsi sentire?

paola



************ VISIT IWPR ON-LINE: http://www.iwpr.net ********************

BITTERSWEET FREEDOM

My release from prison was wonderful, but I remain troubled by my role in
the dispute between the old regime and the independent press.

By Miroslav Filipovic in Belgrade

I should be happy, now that I'm suddenly free after five months in a
military jail in Nis. But despite my liberty, a bitterness remains.

I am only a local journalist from Kraljevo, in southern Serbia. Under the
Milosevic regime, I was sentenced this summer to seven years' imprisonment
for "espionage and spreading false information".

The charge resulted from a series of stories I wrote on atrocities by
individual members of the Yugoslav forces in Kosovo and other sensitive
issues, which were published on the internet by the Institute for War &
Peace Reporting.

The sentence was a very heavy burden, made worse by my health problems and
obvious anxieties over my family.

When Slobodan Milosevic fell, I listened to events on the radio, along with
many of my fellow inmates, who happened to be Albanians. They knew why I was
in jail, and we got along quite well. Rumours quickly started that I would
soon be pardoned by President Vojislav Kostunica. Radio reports mentioned
the possibility constantly.

I had mixed feelings. Naturally, I wanted my freedom at all costs. But I
preferred to see my sentence lifted through the courts, rather than an act
of mercy, which would forever leave a suspicion that I am guilty.

Then, on Tuesday, October 10, exactly at noon, as in a beautiful fairy tale,
I heard a broadcast on Radio Index that the Supreme Military Court had
accepted my lawyer's appeal, and had annulled the original verdict due to
"procedural irregularities" in the investigations. It meant that a retrial
is possible, but also that I would be released that day.

Once again, I am a free man, able to recover my health, join in the
excitement of the new Serbia, and most of all see my family again.

The support I received from my family, my friends and my professional
colleagues, in Serbia and internationally, was simply incredible. Media,
diplomats, press freedom and human rights groups mobilised around the world
on my behalf, and in my prison cell this meant so much to me. I will always
be deeply grateful.

Immediately following my release, I became subject of great interest to my
colleagues around the world. I gave endless interviews to local and
international media.

Almost everyone told me I had become a hero and a symbol of the struggle for
free expression in Serbia. I was praised as a brave man and journalist whose
case had contributed to the mobilisation of the Serbian electorate. It was
even said that I had served to deliver a few more percentage points to the
vote for the democratic opposition, thus bringing about a change of regime.

But I don't feel like a hero at all. Nor do I consider myself particularly
brave. To put it simply, I just did my job and shared the information I
collected with my readers. I obviously came too close to the invisible line
set for journalists by the previous regime.

The regime's reaction following my arrest on May 8 this year was so strong
that no media in Serbia republished my stories, or mentioned anything about
their contents. The authorities set me up as an example, as a warning, and
it worked.

During my sleepless nights in a prison cell, I asked myself many times
whether I had indeed made a mistake, needlessly exposing myself and my
family.

Should I have waited for "a better time" to speak on the "hot issues" of the
Yugoslav reality? Did I really have to be, in the humorous words of one of
our colleagues, "the cockerel who crowed too early"? Many times I did repent
and regret that I had not been more careful.

But how could I have been a hypocrite? The stories that I wrote were only
based on the information known by many people in my hometown of Kraljevo. As
a professional journalist, I felt compelled to do my job.

So I stand by my stories, no matter how uncomfortable it was for the people
of Serbia. My first priority is to vindicate myself and my stories, to prove
beyond doubt that I wrote nothing but the truth.

Yet to those colleagues who ask whether I will continue writing about the
issues which put me in prison, I say: It's not just up to me.

This is not because I lack courage, but because I do not believe I should
remain the only one in the new democratic Serbia who dares to write about
atrocities, war crimes and other sensitive themes. I will again take up my
place within my profession, but I will do so like every other journalist:
story-by-story, not as a self-proclaimed freedom fighter, but as a reporter,
each fact and each text at a time, to the best of my abilities and my
conscience.

I do believe that the actions of Serbian citizens in the wars on the
territory of the former Yugoslavia, including Kosovo, will one day lead to
public trials, within Serbia or at The Hague tribunal. The whole point of my
articles, in fact, is that no crimes were committed by the Serbian nation or
the Yugoslav Army as a whole, but by individuals through individual acts.

Ultimately, I hope this will also involve a regional process of truth and
reconciliation, through which people from all territories of the former
Yugoslavia will reflect on the wars of the past decade and be brave enough
to confess their mistakes, misconceptions, and unlawful actions.

Until then, when my "case" is mentioned, people won't point to what I wrote
about. Instead, my imprisonment will be seen only as part of the struggle
for free expression under the old regime - and my release, as proof of the
success of the new.

We shall celebrate our fresh victory for a long time to come. But in doing
so, we may remain quiet about the very things we need to discuss. And in
this silence, we may show that the departing regime was not the sole problem
of citizens of Serbia and Yugoslavia.

Miroslav Filipovic is a journalist from Kraljevo and regular contributor to
IWPR. His IWPR articles, and further information about his case, can be
found on-line at the Filipovic File.

http://www.iwpr.net/index.pl5?balkans_filipovic_index.html