In the silence, the cries of the past echo loudly, urging us to never forget and ensure that the horrors of genocide are consigned to history, never to be repeated.
By Aayushi Rana, Sarajevo, Bosnia
Through glass we peer, at the remnants of despair,
A testament to the past, a plea for the future’s care.
In the face of horror, let compassion be our guide,
For in remembrance and justice, humanity resides.
In the serene town of Srebrenica, a haunting silence speaks volumes. It is a silence that echoes through the halls of the Museum of Crimes Against Humanity and Genocide, a place where history’s darkest chapters are preserved with reverence and somber dignity. This museum stands as a stark reminder of the atrocities that unfolded in this seemingly tranquil region, a testimony to the resilience of the human spirit, and a call to never forget the horrors of genocide.
The Genocide: A Dark Chapter
The Srebrenica Genocide, perpetrated in July, 1995, is one of the most brutal and tragic events in modern history. Over 8,000 Bosnian men and boys were systematically murdered by the Bosnian Serb forces led by General Ratko Mladić, under the shadow of a world that watched in stunned, often detached silence. This was not just an act of war; it was a calculated attempt to erase an entire community, to cleanse a region of its identity.
During most of the armed conflict in Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH) in1992-95, the town of Srebrenica in eastern Bosnia was an enclave under Bosnian-Muslim control by the Army of the Republic of BiH (BiH Army). Tens of thousands of Bosnian Muslims from the surrounding areas, fleeing the attacks of Bosnian-Serb forces on their towns and villages, sought shelter in Srebrenica. For three years, Bosnian-Serb forces besieged the enclave and frequently shelled it.
Srebrenica town was saturated with refugees. People camped in the stairwells and corridors of apartment buildings, inside cars, and in public buildings such as schools and sports centers, while others had no shelter at all and huddled outside in temperatures that dropped to -25°C at night during the freezing winter. Most who had fled to Srebrenica had little food since leaving their villages, and the only water source, the river, was heavily polluted with offal, excrement, and oil.
In response to the rapidly deteriorating humanitarian situation, in April 1993, the United Nations Security Council adopted Resolution 819 designating Srebrenica a “safe area”. A few days later, an agreement was signed calling for a total cease-fire in Srebrenica, demilitarization of the enclave, the deployment of an UNPROFOR company in Srebrenica, and the opening of a corridor between Tuzla and Srebrenica for the evacuation of the seriously wounded and ill. UNPROFOR established a small command center in Srebrenica itself, and a larger main compound about five kilometers north of the town in Potočari.
Fall of Srebrenica and the Massacre
In March 1995, Radovan Karadžić, president and supreme commander of the armed forces of the self-proclaimed entity, Republika Srpska, instructed the Bosnian-Serb forces to eliminate the Muslim population from the Srebrenica and Žepa enclaves. ‘Directive 7,’ as it became known, served as a precursor to the crimes of July, 1995. The Drina Corps of the Army of Republika Srpska (VRS) was ordered to:
“By planned and well thought-out combat operations, create an unbearable situation of total insecurity with no hope of further survival or life for inhabitants of Srebrenica and Žepa.”
In July, 1995, the Directive was transformed into a concrete plan, which started with an operation code named Krivaja 95, and ended with up to 8,000 Bosnian Muslim men and boys killed, or, still missing, and up to 30,000 Bosnian Muslim women, children, and elderly persons forcibly transferred from the enclave.
The Museum: A Beacon of Remembrance
“Let us remember the dark past so that we may build a brighter future,” reads a quote by Elie Wiesel that greets visitors at the museum entrance, setting the tone for the harrowing journey that lies ahead.
The Museum of Crimes Against Humanity and Genocide in Srebrenica is not just a collection of artifacts and exhibits; it is a living, breathing narrative of pain, loss, and resilience. As you walk through its corridors, you are enveloped by stories of those who suffered, survived, and perished. Each exhibit is meticulously curated to ensure that the voices of the victims are heard, their stories told, and their memories preserved.
One of the most poignant sections of the museum is a young boy’s photograph, a symbol of lost innocence, surrounded by spent bullet-casings. Above, a colourful woven ball rests, contrasting the sombre artifacts below.
The caption under the photo reads:
Execution of a seven year old boy
Fahrudin Muminović was only 7-years-old at the time when he was executed in Srebrenica, in 1995. Among several executed victims, he was the only one who survived by luck.
The testimony of a former Republic of Srpska army soldier:
“The boy was covered in blood and organs of other dead people. There was an officer standing near soldiers, I think he was a colonel, he arrogantly addressed the soldiers: “What are you waiting for? Finish him!” Soldiers, who did not have any problems to kill and execute people, replied: “Sir, you have a gun too, why don’t you finish him?” Everyone remained silent and mute. He was screaming “Nooo, nooo, noooo.” The kid struggled, because he remembered that he had already been in this truck. Then I went over to the soldiers and told them, “Listen, I’ll take him in my truck, tor relax him, and play music, to distract him from what happened. I got in the truck and turned on the lights and radio, and found a local radio station. I told him: come in, see, I have a light and music. Suddenly, he took my arm. I don’t want any of you every experience this. I was known as a strong man. But no one would want to experience such a grip when he squeezed my hand. I was shocked by the strength of his grasp.”
Protected witness 101 took the boy in Zvornik in the hospital, where the boy was taken to the surgery, due to his wounds. “When I brought him to the hospital, he grabbed me again, saying to me, “Baba (Dad), do not let them take me, please.”
To this day, I still hear those worlds in my head.
While the doctor examined him and cleaned him off the remains of other bodies and flesh, I felt a terrible smell. I could not quite understand how I did not felt that smell while I was driving to the hospital. I was extremely shocked by the whole event.”
The museum does not shy away from the graphic and brutal realities of the genocide. Personal belongings of the victims, from simple items like shoes and watches, to tattered clothes, are displayed with heart-breaking simplicity. These objects, ordinary in their own right, become extraordinary testimonies to the lives that were lived and lost.
Detailed accounts of the mass executions, the forced marches, and the harrowing escapes, are narrated through multi-media presentations and survivor-testimonials. The chilling video footage of General Mladić’s men, separating men from their families, under the guise of ‘protection’ is a stark reminder of the calculated cruelty that defined this genocide.
The Suffering: Unimaginable Pain
The Srebrenica Genocide left deep scars not just on the landscape, but on the souls of those who lived through it. Mothers who lost their sons, wives who lost their husbands, and children who lost their fathers — their grief is palpable, their sorrow immeasurable. The museum provides a platform for these survivors to share their stories, ensuring that their suffering is acknowledged and remembered.
One survivor’s account, displayed prominently, captures the essence of this pain:
“They took my son, my only son. He was 17. They promised they would protect him. They lied. Now, I walk these halls and see his face among the thousands. My heart weeps, but my soul fights to remember, to honour, to never forget.”
Another heart-wrenching structure is the statue crafted from slices of bread, representing “A man who waited in line for bread.” This poignant sculpture, created by artist Mensud Keco, serves as a powerful monument to those who lost their lives while waiting for food. The artwork is based on a tragic event at the beginning of the war, when a grenade killed 26 people and wounded over 100 starving civilians on May 27, 1995, on Ferhadija Street.
More than a museum
A quote by Edmund Burke resonates deeply within these walls: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” This serves as a sobering reminder that vigilance, intervention, and justice are crucial in preventing such atrocities in the future.
The Museum of Crimes Against Humanity and Genocide is not just a place of remembrance; it is an educational hub, a center for advocacy, and a catalyst for change. It hosts workshops, lectures and exhibitions aimed at raising awareness about genocide prevention, human rights, and the importance of reconciliation. By educating future generations about the horrors of the past, the museum strives to build a world where such atrocities are never repeated.
In the silence of Srebrenica, the cries of the past echo loudly, urging us to never forget and ensure that the horrors of genocide are consigned to history, never to be repeated.
As you exit the museum, a final quote by Martin Luther King Jr. resonates: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” The museum stands as a beacon of justice, a shrine of memory, and a guardian of history. It implores us to remember, to learn, and to act.
Picture by Aayushi Rana
The writer is, Senior Fact-Checker, Digital Forensics Research and Analytics Centre (DFRAC).