Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Yugoslavia's delicate ethnic balance is notoriously difficult to grasp. The major “eth-
nicities” of Yugoslavia were all South Slavs—they're descended from the same ancestors
and speak closely related languages. The distinguishing difference is that they practice dif-
ferent religions. Catholic South Slavs are called Croats; Orthodox South Slavs are called
Serbs; and Muslim South Slavs (whose ancestors converted to Islam under Ottoman rule)
are called Bosniaks. For the most part, there's no way that a casual visitor can determine
the religion or loyalties of the people just by looking at them.
While relatively few people are actively religious here (thanks to the stifling atheism
of the communist years), they fiercely identify with their ethnicity. And, because ethnicity
and faith are synonymous, it's easy to mistake the recent conflicts for “religious wars.”
But in reality, they were about the politics of ethnicity (just as the “Troubles” in Ireland
are more about British versus Irish rule than simply a holy war between Catholics and
Protestants).
“Yugoslavia” was an artificial union of the various South Slav ethnicities that lasted
from the end of World War I until 1991. Following the death of its strong-arm leader
Tito, a storm of ethnic divisions, a heritage of fear and mistrust, and a spate of land-
hungry politicians plunged Yugoslavia into war. Many consider the conflict a “civil
war,” and others see it as a series of “wars of independence.” However you define the
wars, they—and the ethnic cleansing, systematic rape, and other atrocities that accom-
panied them—were simply horrific. It's almost miraculous that after a few bloody years
(1991-1995), the many factions laid down their arms and agreed to peace accords. An
uneasy peace—firmer and more inspiring with each passing year—has settled over the re-
gion.
And yet, hard feelings linger. As a travel writer, I've learned again and again that
discussing this region is fraught with controversy. Every time I publish an article on the
former Yugoslavia, I receive angry emails complaining that I'm “taking sides.” (Strangely,
I typically hear this complaint from each “side” in equal numbers…which suggests I'm
actually succeeding at being impartial.) I believe you could line up a panel of experts from
this region—historians from prestigious universities, respected journalists, beloved dip-
lomats—and ask them for their take on a particular issue or historical event…and each
one would have a different interpretation, presented as fact. One person's war hero is an-
other person's war criminal. One person's freedom fighter is another person's rapist. One
person's George Washington is another person's Adolf Hitler. It's aggravating, and yet so
human. As an outside observer, the best I can do is to sort through the opinions, force my-
self to see all sides of the story, collect a few random observations to share as food for
thought…and encourage readers to learn from the region's tumult.
But there's no substitute for traveling here in person. Walking with the victims of a
war through the ruins of their cities gives you “war coverage” you'd never get in front of a
