I went to Yugoslavia a few years ago with Elie Wiesel, whose work repeats what is, in the context of the Holocaust, an unassailable warning: Never forget. Yet now we descended into a place where memory--indignant, obsessive, murderous--is both a way of life and a fatal disease.
I checked into the Hotel Inter-Continental in Belgrade, and within 15 minutes someone slipped a manila envelope under the door, a sort of Serbian press kit. It contained atrocity pictures--hideous stills of bodies mutilated, bodies burned in mass graves, bodies without genitals or heads. Welcome to the Balkans. The press kit implied that Bosnian...
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