Serbia got its new government today. Think you can form a better one? Give it a try.
(Thanks to Nikola Jablanov)
2008-07-07
Technical notes from all over
I guess I am not so much a client as a user of the Blogger service, since I do not pay them anything and they do not pay me anything. So this limits my ability to complain about their service. All the same, the new editing tool seems to be in the habit of eating my paragraph breaks. Do they taste nice?
It may seem that I spend a lot of time complaining here about agencies and companies that bother me (the Home Office, Defra, my local council, BT ....). This could lead to the impression that I am a grouchy old fellow, an impression that people who know me would certainly confirm.
All the same, in the interest of balance, a few of the providers of goods and services in the United Magical Kingdom who have pleased me:
It may seem that I spend a lot of time complaining here about agencies and companies that bother me (the Home Office, Defra, my local council, BT ....). This could lead to the impression that I am a grouchy old fellow, an impression that people who know me would certainly confirm.
All the same, in the interest of balance, a few of the providers of goods and services in the United Magical Kingdom who have pleased me:
- John Lewis: They deliver when they say they will, and do not charge extra for it. And when I got a defective product from them, they were there the next day to take it away and bring a new one.
- Riverford Organic: Say goodbye to depressing supermarket vegetables, order a nice box of veg from these folk instead. They come by once a week to bring it to you, and take back the box from last week to use again. The price is a little higher, but the quality is much better. And you don't have to carry anything.
You provide the prose poems
It could be a dismal enterprise to list all those things that have not changed. But among them is the tender attention ruling parties in Serbia always pay to the largest state-controlled newspaper, Politika, and to the largest state-controlled broadcast outlet, Radio Televizija Srbije (RTS). Both of these have taken beatings from competition, and consequently have weaker positions than they have had in the past. But Politika remains a semiofficial paper and RTS remains the only broadcaster which has access to resources for large-scale production (even if they use these resources poorly) and which is available everywhere. When Vojislav Koštunica became prime minister, he installed his journalistic admirer Ljiljana Smajlović as editor of Politika and his media advisor (media advisor to lots of folks, actually, and for a brief period minister of information for Slobodan Milošević) Aleksandar Tijanić as head of RTS.
Both Smajlović and Tijanić have some good things to show for their service. Smajlović engaged the much-admired designer Mirko Ilić to reconceive the look of Politika, and it is now more legible and more stylish than it was, with especially enjoyable graphics on Sundays. Under Tijanić RTS television looks a lot less haphazard and hackneyed, more like a professional TV outlet and less like the way a tech school dropout put onto video the hallucinations of a hatful of people to whom nobody can say "that's a bad idea."
And there are things that they failed to do. Smajlović cut short the path that Politika had begun back to respectable journalism. Times have changed, but you are as likely to find tendentious headlines and selective reporting in that paper as you were in the 1990s. She also handed out patronage in the form of columnist contracts to Koštunica's political supporters. Miroslav Lazanski? There. Slobodan Antonić? Him too. Đorđe Vukadinović? What a surprise. For good measure, the management board was packed with political supporters as well. Emir Kusturica was installed as its chair. Tijanić used RTS as a vehicle for personal promotion and the political promotion of his rotating cast of friends and business associates. So as much as the heads of these institutions polished their surfaces, the stuff underneath looked very much the way it did in the old days.
Now with a new government, new board members are heading to those media outlets. Tijanić and Smajlović are predicting, probably correctly, that they will be removed from their positions. But at the same time they are defending their positions using the rhetoric of "journalistic independence." Now the independence of media is a value that lots of folks for good reason would defend. In this case the rhetoric is in the wrong hands. The people using it did not come to assume their positions as independent journalists or because of their journalistic independence, but for precisely the opposite reason. In the second place, an important point is being missed: no media outlet is independent of its own managing board, which means that the problem is structural. Form the managing body of a media outlet with people appointed by political parties, the result will always be politically controlled media. Allow politicians to name the editors of media institutions, they will be anything but independent.
There might or might not be reason to imagine that the Cvetković-Daček government will appoint a higher class of lapdogs than its predecessors. What would really be interesting would be to see editorial independence practised as a general operating principle.
Both Smajlović and Tijanić have some good things to show for their service. Smajlović engaged the much-admired designer Mirko Ilić to reconceive the look of Politika, and it is now more legible and more stylish than it was, with especially enjoyable graphics on Sundays. Under Tijanić RTS television looks a lot less haphazard and hackneyed, more like a professional TV outlet and less like the way a tech school dropout put onto video the hallucinations of a hatful of people to whom nobody can say "that's a bad idea."
And there are things that they failed to do. Smajlović cut short the path that Politika had begun back to respectable journalism. Times have changed, but you are as likely to find tendentious headlines and selective reporting in that paper as you were in the 1990s. She also handed out patronage in the form of columnist contracts to Koštunica's political supporters. Miroslav Lazanski? There. Slobodan Antonić? Him too. Đorđe Vukadinović? What a surprise. For good measure, the management board was packed with political supporters as well. Emir Kusturica was installed as its chair. Tijanić used RTS as a vehicle for personal promotion and the political promotion of his rotating cast of friends and business associates. So as much as the heads of these institutions polished their surfaces, the stuff underneath looked very much the way it did in the old days.
Now with a new government, new board members are heading to those media outlets. Tijanić and Smajlović are predicting, probably correctly, that they will be removed from their positions. But at the same time they are defending their positions using the rhetoric of "journalistic independence." Now the independence of media is a value that lots of folks for good reason would defend. In this case the rhetoric is in the wrong hands. The people using it did not come to assume their positions as independent journalists or because of their journalistic independence, but for precisely the opposite reason. In the second place, an important point is being missed: no media outlet is independent of its own managing board, which means that the problem is structural. Form the managing body of a media outlet with people appointed by political parties, the result will always be politically controlled media. Allow politicians to name the editors of media institutions, they will be anything but independent.
There might or might not be reason to imagine that the Cvetković-Daček government will appoint a higher class of lapdogs than its predecessors. What would really be interesting would be to see editorial independence practised as a general operating principle.
2008-07-04
The Lajiad
Well, the family is after a long period reunited. And it took a while, but the one serious bureaucratic problem we anticipated in connection with arrival has been resolved. Here's how.
Mrs Ethnia and the Ethniette arrived Wednesday morning at 5 AM or so, I arrived to the fetching Heathrow airport to meet them, and at that point we were supposed to go to the Animal Reception Centre to pick up our long-suffering dog Lajoš (who appears to have been left without an Ethnian pseudonym; suggestions are welcome), who would be released after they finished doing whatever it is they do to helpless animals in sealed high-security zones.
This was to be the fruit of a long procedure to avoid quarantine in the UK, which is famously hostile to incoming animals. The procedure begins a year before the doggie is to enter the country. He gets certification and boosters for all of the vaccines he has received, and in an indignity meant to emulate the surveillance to which humans are subject at all times, a computer chip is shoved into his body. A blood sample is taken, and must be sent to the only laboratory in the country from which Defra will accept results (in the US, actually, there are two laboratories but the other is apparently only for dogs in active military service). A pile of papers must be gathered and certified by a veterinarian.
And then there is the travel itself. Lajoš must travel in crate that meets precise specifications, can only go on flights from a list provided by Defra, and is to be surrendered to the cargo carrier five hours before the flight. On arrival in London, he is to be taken in his crate directly to the Animal Reception Centre, where, their literature assures us, staff are on duty 24 hours to assure the health, safety and happiness of domestic animals and the people around them.
From Heathrow Terminal 4, which can be reached by tube, one can reach the Animal Reception Centre by car. If, like most people who live in central London, one does not have a car, the procedure is the following: one drags one's luggage past the point at which there are paved walks by the side of the road, and then drags the bags up some stairs to a path that runs through an overgrown meadow and leads to a narrow pavement bestride a six-lane highway. After tooling along that pavement for about 2 km, it is possible to see the building of the Animal Reception Centre, which bears a striking resemblance to the Medical Facility for the Criminally Insane outside the University of Massachusetts hospital in Worcester. On seeing the building, it becomes clear that it is on the other side of the six-lane highway and that there are no crossings. So the only thing to do is wait for a somewhat clear moment, then dash with suitcases and child in the hope of not making an involuntary appearance in tomorrow's Daily Mirror ("Stranded pooch after Ethnia family road rage squish"). Later we discovered that it is possible to take a bus from the terminal; the bus deposits you by a parking lot next to the cargo area about a mile further down the highway, which is also on the opposite side. Here there is a crossing, which leads to an unpaved strip on the other side where pedestrians are invited to slog through the muddy grass beside a shallow primordial pool which is shaped like an imitation of a river.
Pedestrians who arrive at the entrance to the Animal Reception Centre are greeted by a sign telling them that pedestrian access is prohibited. After ignoring the sign they will reach a reasonably pleasant waiting room filled with sofas and piles upon piles of interior decorating magazines. On the walls are signed photos from celebrities whose animals have passed through those doors. Most of them I do not recognise, but there is the unctuous Richard Branson with two doggies and a signed portrait of a squat Elton John. There are also vending machines where one can buy a bag of crisps or a Yorkie bar (“not for girls!”). We are signed in and instructed that Lajoš should be delivered to us within the hour.
But soon an agent appears with a problem: apparently in some obscure part of the guidelines we have been (or somebody has been) told that our Boston veterinarian's signature must be verified by the US Department of Agriculture. Since such a thing would not occur to any reasonable person and is not visible in the instructions, it was not done, and hence the Animal Reception Centre is not able to accept Lajoš's documents. The certificate will have to be issued by one of their vets. It is now 7 AM. Since the Animal Reception Centre works 24 hours a day doing nothing but processing animals, they naturally do not have veterinarians on staff (who are all these people, then?). A veterinarian drops by to visit twice a day, once at noon and once at 7 PM. We are advised to bring our bags home, and that somebody will phone us sometime after noon to tell us that our dog is ready to be picked up. Which we do.
Around 1:00 we receive a call asking us to come back to the Animal Reception Centre with Lajoš's documents. Mrs Ethnia stays at home and the Ethniette and I head off, folder of documents in hand, to make the trek once again to distant Heathrow. It turns out that they needed to resolve some confusion as to whether the computer chip that was unceremoniously placed into Lajoš was placed on the day it was placed or on the day that its number was registered. We are able to resolve the confusion immediately. By this time, however, given the time it has taken for them to call us and the time it has taken to get back to the airport, the noon vet has left. The certificate cannot be issued until the 7 PM vet shows up. They kindly point out that our paid processing fee allows Lajoš to spend 48 hours enjoying their hospitality, and that we are perfectly free to return home and pick him up the following day, or even the day after. We are determined that our dog will not spend the night at their mercies, however tender. We tell them that we will be back at 8 PM.
This leaves us with a good six hours to fill in some way or another. The time could be spent at Heathrow, revelling in the opportunity to pay £10 for beans on toast and to find out what abominations WH Smith has decided are “bestsellers.” We quickly dismiss this idea and instead arrange to meet up with Mrs Ethnia in the nearest proper neighbourhood I can think of. Which is how we came to spend our afternoon in Hounslow.
Now, I have absolutely nothing against Hounslow, and in fact it seems like it is a perfectly fine place. There are many discount clothing and furniture stores, as well as some lovely outlets for electronic goods. There is a shop where everything costs a pound, and if we had been inspired we could have got a very good deal there on those metal balti dishes which are ideal for serving food that has to be hot at the table. There is also a quite good Lebanese restaurant, where the friendly staff served us a delicious dinner at a more than reasonable price. There is a bakery where they fill their cannolis with Nutella, an innovation that pleased the Ethniette a great deal. The only bad thing I can say about Hounslow is that the only two times I have been there in my life it was because of some mishap involving transportation that was expected to happen but did not because of bureaucracy, and that if this sort of mishap does not occur again, as I certainly hope, these will remain the only two times in my life I have been in Hounslow. It is entirely possible that this sentiment is misplaced and that it reflects poorly both on Hounslow and on me.
In any case, our brief and unanticipated sojourn into Hounslow tourism completed, it was time to return to the inviting Heathrow cargo area. At around 9 PM we finally did receive Lajoš, who was happy and seemed no worse for wear despite his long imprisonment. By 10:30 PM he was off the tube and merrily sniffing the ground by the fast food stands where people wait for buses at Finsbury Park station. At 11 PM, a mere 15 hours after landing in a crate in the UK, he was at home enjoying the smells of Muswell Hill.
Englezi: Lajoš has arrived in your country. One day he will rule you all.
Mrs Ethnia and the Ethniette arrived Wednesday morning at 5 AM or so, I arrived to the fetching Heathrow airport to meet them, and at that point we were supposed to go to the Animal Reception Centre to pick up our long-suffering dog Lajoš (who appears to have been left without an Ethnian pseudonym; suggestions are welcome), who would be released after they finished doing whatever it is they do to helpless animals in sealed high-security zones.
This was to be the fruit of a long procedure to avoid quarantine in the UK, which is famously hostile to incoming animals. The procedure begins a year before the doggie is to enter the country. He gets certification and boosters for all of the vaccines he has received, and in an indignity meant to emulate the surveillance to which humans are subject at all times, a computer chip is shoved into his body. A blood sample is taken, and must be sent to the only laboratory in the country from which Defra will accept results (in the US, actually, there are two laboratories but the other is apparently only for dogs in active military service). A pile of papers must be gathered and certified by a veterinarian.
And then there is the travel itself. Lajoš must travel in crate that meets precise specifications, can only go on flights from a list provided by Defra, and is to be surrendered to the cargo carrier five hours before the flight. On arrival in London, he is to be taken in his crate directly to the Animal Reception Centre, where, their literature assures us, staff are on duty 24 hours to assure the health, safety and happiness of domestic animals and the people around them.
From Heathrow Terminal 4, which can be reached by tube, one can reach the Animal Reception Centre by car. If, like most people who live in central London, one does not have a car, the procedure is the following: one drags one's luggage past the point at which there are paved walks by the side of the road, and then drags the bags up some stairs to a path that runs through an overgrown meadow and leads to a narrow pavement bestride a six-lane highway. After tooling along that pavement for about 2 km, it is possible to see the building of the Animal Reception Centre, which bears a striking resemblance to the Medical Facility for the Criminally Insane outside the University of Massachusetts hospital in Worcester. On seeing the building, it becomes clear that it is on the other side of the six-lane highway and that there are no crossings. So the only thing to do is wait for a somewhat clear moment, then dash with suitcases and child in the hope of not making an involuntary appearance in tomorrow's Daily Mirror ("Stranded pooch after Ethnia family road rage squish"). Later we discovered that it is possible to take a bus from the terminal; the bus deposits you by a parking lot next to the cargo area about a mile further down the highway, which is also on the opposite side. Here there is a crossing, which leads to an unpaved strip on the other side where pedestrians are invited to slog through the muddy grass beside a shallow primordial pool which is shaped like an imitation of a river.
Pedestrians who arrive at the entrance to the Animal Reception Centre are greeted by a sign telling them that pedestrian access is prohibited. After ignoring the sign they will reach a reasonably pleasant waiting room filled with sofas and piles upon piles of interior decorating magazines. On the walls are signed photos from celebrities whose animals have passed through those doors. Most of them I do not recognise, but there is the unctuous Richard Branson with two doggies and a signed portrait of a squat Elton John. There are also vending machines where one can buy a bag of crisps or a Yorkie bar (“not for girls!”). We are signed in and instructed that Lajoš should be delivered to us within the hour.
But soon an agent appears with a problem: apparently in some obscure part of the guidelines we have been (or somebody has been) told that our Boston veterinarian's signature must be verified by the US Department of Agriculture. Since such a thing would not occur to any reasonable person and is not visible in the instructions, it was not done, and hence the Animal Reception Centre is not able to accept Lajoš's documents. The certificate will have to be issued by one of their vets. It is now 7 AM. Since the Animal Reception Centre works 24 hours a day doing nothing but processing animals, they naturally do not have veterinarians on staff (who are all these people, then?). A veterinarian drops by to visit twice a day, once at noon and once at 7 PM. We are advised to bring our bags home, and that somebody will phone us sometime after noon to tell us that our dog is ready to be picked up. Which we do.
Around 1:00 we receive a call asking us to come back to the Animal Reception Centre with Lajoš's documents. Mrs Ethnia stays at home and the Ethniette and I head off, folder of documents in hand, to make the trek once again to distant Heathrow. It turns out that they needed to resolve some confusion as to whether the computer chip that was unceremoniously placed into Lajoš was placed on the day it was placed or on the day that its number was registered. We are able to resolve the confusion immediately. By this time, however, given the time it has taken for them to call us and the time it has taken to get back to the airport, the noon vet has left. The certificate cannot be issued until the 7 PM vet shows up. They kindly point out that our paid processing fee allows Lajoš to spend 48 hours enjoying their hospitality, and that we are perfectly free to return home and pick him up the following day, or even the day after. We are determined that our dog will not spend the night at their mercies, however tender. We tell them that we will be back at 8 PM.
This leaves us with a good six hours to fill in some way or another. The time could be spent at Heathrow, revelling in the opportunity to pay £10 for beans on toast and to find out what abominations WH Smith has decided are “bestsellers.” We quickly dismiss this idea and instead arrange to meet up with Mrs Ethnia in the nearest proper neighbourhood I can think of. Which is how we came to spend our afternoon in Hounslow.
Now, I have absolutely nothing against Hounslow, and in fact it seems like it is a perfectly fine place. There are many discount clothing and furniture stores, as well as some lovely outlets for electronic goods. There is a shop where everything costs a pound, and if we had been inspired we could have got a very good deal there on those metal balti dishes which are ideal for serving food that has to be hot at the table. There is also a quite good Lebanese restaurant, where the friendly staff served us a delicious dinner at a more than reasonable price. There is a bakery where they fill their cannolis with Nutella, an innovation that pleased the Ethniette a great deal. The only bad thing I can say about Hounslow is that the only two times I have been there in my life it was because of some mishap involving transportation that was expected to happen but did not because of bureaucracy, and that if this sort of mishap does not occur again, as I certainly hope, these will remain the only two times in my life I have been in Hounslow. It is entirely possible that this sentiment is misplaced and that it reflects poorly both on Hounslow and on me.
In any case, our brief and unanticipated sojourn into Hounslow tourism completed, it was time to return to the inviting Heathrow cargo area. At around 9 PM we finally did receive Lajoš, who was happy and seemed no worse for wear despite his long imprisonment. By 10:30 PM he was off the tube and merrily sniffing the ground by the fast food stands where people wait for buses at Finsbury Park station. At 11 PM, a mere 15 hours after landing in a crate in the UK, he was at home enjoying the smells of Muswell Hill.
Englezi: Lajoš has arrived in your country. One day he will rule you all.
2008-07-01
Pa i u Ameriku
I am not certain whether or not it is the case that the new ambassador of Serbia in Washington will be Sonja Liht. The only person I have seen reporting it so far is Pera Luković, who does not like the idea (I disagree, but that is no reason not to give a link, I suppose). In any case, it is better than the idea I got when I saw the headline "Vratiti Kovačevića u SAD." It turns out that the person in question was not the very admirable but superannuated former ambassador but some criminal.
U Evropu, 200 na sat
The Slavoj Žižek prize for highest concentration of invented terminology
Unionists? Sovereignists? The national-democratic elite? Rentiers of the surroundings? Probably Professor Antonić is trying to alter perceptions about whom he is speaking for, but I will offer a delicious prize to anyone who can tell me what he is talking about.
A side note to NSPM: your readers, and especially the sovereignists among them, would like you to find a web host that does not bloom with a thousand pop-up adverts.
A side note to NSPM: your readers, and especially the sovereignists among them, would like you to find a web host that does not bloom with a thousand pop-up adverts.
“No rights,” says she “without their duties, No claims on equals without cause.”
The Socialist International will be an oddly named beast indeed if it accepts genocidal parties of the far right as members.
2008-06-28
Service
Since the London transportation network is filled with people who are angry about the inadequate service they receive, its directors have found a solution: posters requesting that people that people not be angry about the inadequate service they receive.
Meanwhile, my local council in Haringey publishes a monthly magazine called Haringey People. In it one can see photos of the councillors wearing large shiny medals around their necks. The magazine must certainly provide hours of pleasure to that audience -- it must be out there -- that enjoys looking at photos of corpulent middle aged men in garish jewelry. It also appears to exhaust the council's reserves of competence.
Meanwhile, my local council in Haringey publishes a monthly magazine called Haringey People. In it one can see photos of the councillors wearing large shiny medals around their necks. The magazine must certainly provide hours of pleasure to that audience -- it must be out there -- that enjoys looking at photos of corpulent middle aged men in garish jewelry. It also appears to exhaust the council's reserves of competence.
2008-06-27
A new, unstable, short-lived government
So it looks like they have done it after all. In a move many hail as some kind of victory, DS and SPS have agreed to alienate both their supporters and form a government together. Word is that the prime minister will be the current finance minster Mirko Cvetković, a compromise figure in every respect. As a "nonparty" person, he is more or less acceptable to everyone. As a nonentity, everyone believes they can control him. He may surprise people on that second count.
The new government is set to have 28 ministries, affirming the place of Serbia near the top of the world demographically in ministers per capita.
The good news about the government is that neither Vojislav Koštunica nor Velimir Ilić will be part of it. The bad news is that SPS will be, and once again a party with minor support will excercise inordinate power. What is uncertain is whether SPS will use the opportunity to demonstrate that it has the capacity the become a political party, and also whether DS will use the opportunity to demonstrate that it has the capacity the become a political party.
PS: Backstory? -- Here are journalists speculating in Politika that Tadić was compelled to choose Cvetković by party leaders and that his preference would have been .... Vuk Jeremić????? But how little does one have to respect (even) Tadić to imagine anyone, even him, seeing Vuk Jeremić in any position where something might depend on him?
The new government is set to have 28 ministries, affirming the place of Serbia near the top of the world demographically in ministers per capita.
The good news about the government is that neither Vojislav Koštunica nor Velimir Ilić will be part of it. The bad news is that SPS will be, and once again a party with minor support will excercise inordinate power. What is uncertain is whether SPS will use the opportunity to demonstrate that it has the capacity the become a political party, and also whether DS will use the opportunity to demonstrate that it has the capacity the become a political party.
PS: Backstory? -- Here are journalists speculating in Politika that Tadić was compelled to choose Cvetković by party leaders and that his preference would have been .... Vuk Jeremić????? But how little does one have to respect (even) Tadić to imagine anyone, even him, seeing Vuk Jeremić in any position where something might depend on him?
2008-06-23
War criminals: What are they good for?
Mr Župljanin has had a tough decade of it, if anyone is to judge by his lament. He says "we have never had any support in Serbia from the democratic authorities," if you can imagine that. And as for the democratic authorities? They couldn't liquidate him, they couldn't arrest him, they couldn't get past their amusement at Mr Lovre's personal ads, they just couldn't do much. Where would we be without Mr Župljanin, without his "enormous suffering and superhuman efforts," and without his self-pity? In a much less bemused world, that's where.
Bozza: "Response to a silly and hostile suggestion"
If you do not like living in London while it has a buffoon as its mayor, you may wish to look for a new home in the Caribbean. If you say the preceding, you may be encouraged to return to a former home in Australia, or at least to vacate a present place of employment. And if you like living in the United States either while it has a buffoon as its president or in anticipation of its having a nonbuffoon, you could be expected to pass something that looks like this test.
ZimbabPROFOR
With reference to the previously posted item, Morgan Tsvangirai is clearly not a reader of this blog, or he would know that he is looking for protection from the wrong source.
While you were away
Well, while I was away, actually. While I was moving to what I hope will become a reasonably permanent new home amongst the sushi bars of Muswell Hill, Owen (who will be known to readers of this site as a regular commenter) was keeping the world informed of the progress of the lawsuit by Hasan Nuhanović and members of the Mustafić family before a district court in the Netherlands.
The plaintiffs are suing the Dutch state for the failure of its military forces, which were present in the area as members of UNPROFOR, to protect their relatives during the Srebrenica genocide in 1995. Rizo Mustafić, Ibro Nuhanović, Nasiha Nuhanović and Muhamed Nuhanović sought protection at the UN military base in Potočari, but were soon afterward delivered to the Bosnian Serb forces by the members of the Dutch military who were bound to protect them. The lawsuit seeks to establish that the military forces are guilty of gross negligence of their duty to protect civilians, and that this was a result of state policy which placed emphasis on the safety of soldiers at the expense of the obligation to protect civilians.
If you care for 198 pages of pleading, you can dowload the writ of summons (translated into English) at the plaintiff's firm's web site. It is a PDF, and since they are lawyers they have a little shrinkwrap agreement for you to click before you can get to it. Or you can listen to an interview with the lead lawyer by CBC, followed by Ramush Thakur's comments on the responsibility to protect.
Paul Vallely sets out several of the issues in the case for The Independent. Plaintiff Nuhanović and his lawyer set out their case to Reuters in an interview. Attorney Liesbeth Zegveld (bio) gives the theory of the case with admirable succinctness to the BBC. Some unexpected uncertainty came about just as hearings were about to begin when the judge who had been overseeing the case since 2005 was removed from the case without explanation.
A decision is expected in September.
Errata: See the comments for an important correction.
The plaintiffs are suing the Dutch state for the failure of its military forces, which were present in the area as members of UNPROFOR, to protect their relatives during the Srebrenica genocide in 1995. Rizo Mustafić, Ibro Nuhanović, Nasiha Nuhanović and Muhamed Nuhanović sought protection at the UN military base in Potočari, but were soon afterward delivered to the Bosnian Serb forces by the members of the Dutch military who were bound to protect them. The lawsuit seeks to establish that the military forces are guilty of gross negligence of their duty to protect civilians, and that this was a result of state policy which placed emphasis on the safety of soldiers at the expense of the obligation to protect civilians.
If you care for 198 pages of pleading, you can dowload the writ of summons (translated into English) at the plaintiff's firm's web site. It is a PDF, and since they are lawyers they have a little shrinkwrap agreement for you to click before you can get to it. Or you can listen to an interview with the lead lawyer by CBC, followed by Ramush Thakur's comments on the responsibility to protect.
Paul Vallely sets out several of the issues in the case for The Independent. Plaintiff Nuhanović and his lawyer set out their case to Reuters in an interview. Attorney Liesbeth Zegveld (bio) gives the theory of the case with admirable succinctness to the BBC. Some unexpected uncertainty came about just as hearings were about to begin when the judge who had been overseeing the case since 2005 was removed from the case without explanation.
A decision is expected in September.
Errata: See the comments for an important correction.
Holidays in the sun
If you decide to take your sun and fun in lovely Priština, then Sophie Middlemiss suggests, helpfully, in the Guardian that "the most authentic sleeping experience you'll have is at the family home of a former university professor." The suggestion box is still open for people who prefer an inauthentic sleeping experience.
2008-06-12
Of kings and, well
Among the remembrances of Šaban Bajramović, add this obituary by John Lusk in the Independent. But better still: a long remembrance by Ljubomir Živkov, with additions by Zoran Živković and Dragan Kremer, in Vreme. And at Global Voices, Elia Varela Serra has posted a memorial video.
With one great person having left Niš, a more dubious one says he has forgiven the people he robbed, is an intellectual looking forward, and is ready to return. But we are not aware that anybody wants him back.
With one great person having left Niš, a more dubious one says he has forgiven the people he robbed, is an intellectual looking forward, and is ready to return. But we are not aware that anybody wants him back.
2008-06-11
Your intelligence agencies at work
They are apparently leaving top secret folders on the seats of trains. While this is being done by daffy senior officials, the government is desperately trying to give itself the authority to hold people for 42 days until they can figure out whether they have done anything illegal or not. You feel ever so safe, don't you?
1 down, 3 to go
With the arrest of Stojan Župljanin announced today, that leaves three more people indicted for war crimes on the list to be arrested: Ratko Mladić, Radovan Karadžić, and Goran Hadžić. That will take care of one of the principal conditions for ratification of the Stabilisation and Association Agreement between the EU and Serbia. If the country succeeded in improving its wine and becoming a global tennis superpower, surely it can make that extra step. Samo napred!
2008-06-08
Farewell, Šaban Bajramović
Šaban Bajramović: He deserted the army for love and formed his first band on Goli Otok. His music was gorgeous. In his life both his failures and successes were tremendous. The last few years saw him successfully reinventing his sound with the assistance of Cubismo, and more recently facing both health and material problems. He may have seemed indestructible to many. But today we have to say goodbye to the king of Roma music.Link: This recent album review by Erika Borsos captures his quality nicely. And Toma Todorović has a fine remembrance in Politika.
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