In fact it's quite disturbing. No, the author is not crazy, but he was disturbed by what he saw and by what he heard when he interviews many of the Serbs, both civilian and in the military. My mom always told me there were good Germans in WWII, but that they chose to do nothing. She also told me about McCarthyism, which was so insane in concept I could never quite understand it. Peter Maass came face to face with this reality. It became personal, not only in the stories told to him, but in what actually happened when he witnessed brutality and he had no power to stop it, for fear he would be next.
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From the book, pages 19 & 20
One of the mysteries of Bosnia's war is why so many good people stood by as evil deeds were committed in their name---people like Vladimir, the Serb in Visegrad who cried over what had been done to his neighbors. It is a universal mystery. Why, when the would-be dictators of the world start barking their songs of hate, do so many people sing along rather than stand up and say, simply, "No"? It's a cliche to point to the "good Germans" who followed Hitler into his madness because their duty was not to question but to obey. What about the Americans who buckled to McCarthyism? Or what about joggers in Central Park who fearfully run past someone being mugged?
I was hardly alone in feeling righteous about Serbs who supported, in their silence, a dirty war. If I was in their shoes, I would speak out. Or so I thought until I was put into their shoes.
The Serbs led us back to the main road and stopped in front of a run down cafe'. One of them went inside and made a phone call, apparently to their commander. The leader, whose nickname was Voja Chetnik, had gotten out of his car and didn't seem to mind that we had done the same. He wandered onto the cafe' patio and suddenly started shouting at a thin, middle-aged Muslim who was sipping a cup of coffee in the shade. It was one of the odd features of Serb-controlled territory that while Muslims were being tortured at a prison camp a mile down the road, others who had sworn their loyalty to the Serb warlords remained at liberty, though precariously.
"Ramiz!" Voja roared, "I told you never to come here! Get out of here you filth!"
Voja grabbed a beer bottle and slammed it against Ramiz's shoulder. Broken glass flew in all directions, dripping bits of blood. The shirtless Ramiz didn't even have a chance to get out of his chair because Voja started punching his head, kicking him, keeping him down. Ramiz tried to raise his hands to protect his face, but it did no good. Voja kept slugging away. When he got tired of that, he slammed the muzzle of his rifle into Ramiz's chest and undid the safety catch. An execution was moments away.
This was happening 10 yards from me. I did not plead with Voja to spare Ramiz's life. Neither did Jonathan or Vlatka, I don't think any of us considered doing so. We fell silent. Voja was going to do what Voja wanted to do, and anyone who got in the way, especially journalists who were only one order away from their own execution, would likely be shot along side the Muslim.
Love Thy Neighbor A Story of War by Peter Maass
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The story continued on, the Muslim's wife rushed in and threw herself between Voja and her husband. Voja kicked Ramiz some more and then let him "scamper away, like a tormented mouse freed from the claws of a bored cat" (page 21). The journalists were escorted to headquarters, where they were told never to come back again.
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