"The Day the Great One Appeared" Parts I, II, III

"The Day the Great One Appeared" Part I
by John Amaruso

They call him 'The Great One'. Nobody knows where he came from, who he is, or exactly what he is. All we know about him is that he watches over this world of ours. He is a guardian to all of man's good. He is the all knowing, the all seeing, and the all powerful. He is omnipotent, indestructible, and benevolent.
Since the beginning of The Great One's reign, mankind has experienced no famines, no wars, no poverty, no injustice, no crime, no despair, no corruption, no filth, no disease, no pain, no suffering. There is only him, and the rest of us. His loyal subjects. His flock of disciples. A testament to his greatness. For he is, The Great One.
This is what I was taught to believe; rather, that is what we were all taught to believe.
It started almost 500 years ago when The Great One made his presence known. He was discovered on the streets of New York, dressed head to toe in what one could only describe as a Native American tribe's Head Chief garb. The white pointy feathers fanned out from the top of his head like brilliantly carved spear heads pointing up towards the sky. His chest exposed, a satchel around his right shoulder, and moccasins, he stood on the streets of lower Manhattan, preaching about how he was the one who would lead mankind to redemption. How he was the answer to all of man's problems. How he understood their fears, their hopes, their dreams and their desires. He claimed to have lived thousands of lifetimes and was here to right the wrongs of man's indiscretions.
At the time when The Great One made his presence known, his words fell on deaf ears. Passerbys shrugged him off as what they would have called a 'homeless' person with 'mental disorder'. His message and tongue were wholly ignored except by a few faith seeking nuts who continually showed up for his public street sermons. It was like this for many years, until one day, The Great One proved his words to be truth and their judgments to be in haste.
"While you all may all look at me with great disdain; with utter apathy and reluctance to believe; I warn you all heed the word of The Great One; for I am not destined to suffer the fate of mortal existence. No, I am of a higher breed. A higher consciousness. A higher plane of being than any single mortal on this earth could even begin to absorb. I am infinite, I am all, I am one."
A man from the crowd heckles him.
"Yeah? You think your betta' than the rest of us huh tough guy? Prove it! Prove you ain't no 'mortal'!"
With that, The Great One with his toned, red leathery face, looked towards the man with eyes of conviction and confidence.
"If it is only what you can see that you are willing to believe, then I shall make my cause known. I will bestow upon you all the answers to the questions with which you seek. First, I must ask a question of you, Sir. Do you presently carry a weapon on you?"
The crowd which has now congregated looks confused towards the man.
"Uh yeah, hey, is this some kinda trick question?"
"Not a trick Sir, my words are not to be taken lightly, for I will not repeat myself again."
"Well, I, uh, gotta pocket knife..."
"That will suffice. Hand it over to me."
The man makes his way through the crowd. Nervously he hands the tiny red swiss knife set over to the man dressed as a Native American.
"Now, I want you, to take this knife, and stab me with it."
The crowd's chatter intensifies, as the man looks around confused at the request.
"Excuse me???"
"My words are not to be taken lightly, for I will not repeat myself again."
"I'm not gonna' stab ya man, as much of a lunatic as you are, I ain't no murderer."
"You will not kill me, nor will you harm me, for I am infinite, I am all, and I am one."
"What kinda drugs you takin' man?"
"Hold your tongue and behold the miracle that is I when your feeble attempts at maiming me fall in vain for I am immortal."
The crowd looks around at each other, still chattering and whispering.
The Great One hands the knife back over to the perplexed man.
"Holy fuck man you are crazy."
"Give it your best, right here would do."
The Great One points to the right side of his chest. He then proceeds to get down on both knees, stretching his arms out like Jesus on the cross. He looks up towards the sky, closes his eyes, and breathes deeply.
The crowd's eyes are now fixated on the man and the knife.
"You're all my witness here! He's askin' me to do this..."
With that, the man's trembling hands bring the knife above his shoulder. He brings the knife down and into The Great One's chest. The knife stabs deep, spilling blood from the wound.
The crowd gasps and screams as The Great One's blood trickles down to his abdomen.
"HEY HEY ! YOU ALL SAW IT! HE TOLD ME TO DO IT! HOLY FUCK HE TOLD ME TO DO IT!"
The knife still lodged in his chest, The Great One opens his eyes and looks towards the crowd. With almost no expression, he takes his left arm to the handle of the knife, and rips it out of the wound. Within seconds, the wound begins to heal and the blood dries up. Where there once was a gaping wound returned to an intact right breast.
The crowd gasps again. They begin to clap and cheer wildly at the miraculous stunt.
The man standing over The Great One remains frozen in shock at the sight. The Great One lifts himself off the ground to his feet.
"How did you do that?!" says the man with an open jaw.
The Great One places his hand on the shoulder of the man and smiles.
"I am infinite, I am all, I am the One."
The news took the world by storm. A man who is impervious to death has defied all laws of physics and what we know as life. He is immune to disease, to harm, to death, to anything anyone tried throwing at him.
On national television he lit himself on fire, threw himself from a cliff, was shot at, stabbed, beaten, anything and everything humanly possible used against him was futile against whatever it was that was protecting this being.
"You know, you've really got the whole country talking Great One, and we would all really like to know; Where are you from?" asks TV's biggest late night talk show host Kelly Green as The Great One sits across from her on a green couch next to two other celebrities.
"I am here, presently, to show you the way. To guide humanity into a new age of existence. One which has never been known before."
"What do you mean by that Mr. One? Can I call you Mr. One?" the crowd chuckles with the cute blonde talk show host.
"I will bring you all to Eden. To what man was always meant to reach but strayed afar ages ago. Man must abandon all that he knows and pursue my words. My teachings. My philosophy and my wisdom. Those that doubt can no longer be accepted in this new age of human progress. There will be no more wars. No more hate. No more pain. No more suffering. No more poverty, crime, pollution, disease, lies, treachery and all that draws man closer to the burning embers of eternal hell. Follow me, The Great One, and we can all become One, together."
The crowd claps wildly at The Great One's prolific speech.
A mass following sprung up around the cult like figure, as thousands upon thousands followed him across the world, breathing and living his message of a new world order. An existence of never handing happiness. A world without famine, without terror, without violence. The utopia mankind has always struggled for seemed only a heels click away, just so as long we all followed, The Great One.
Political leaders and elites scrambled to make sense of the situation. Uprisings and demonstrations from discontent citizens who demanded that The Great One be installed as the world's new leader crumbled fragile societies. Africa was one of the first continents to fall, followed by Asia. Then South America, Europe, North America, and finally Australia. The world had rid itself of sovereign nations, entangling alliances, national identities, historic rivalries, cultural heritage, all to be a part of the new World Society, appropriately named, One.
The world of One was exactly what he promised. There no longer was any suffering to be had. There was an everlasting peace between all of The Great One's people. The collective identity of man had been solidified, institutionalized and programmed into the minds of every generation that followed the next, deeper and deeper until the remnants of history seemed more like far off fables of mythical worlds rather than mankind's past.
It is at this point that I find myself here. Another cog in the machine of One. The world with which I was brought up to love, to worship, to be inspired, to be wholly faithful. It is here that I find myself, plotting a way to bring the world to it's rightful place. To bring meaning back into existence, to be human like my ancestors once were. To destroy all that The Great One has created- this monstrosity of progress. To bring back chaos, fear, depression, hate, torture, suffering; to bring back what defines Man as Man. To do this, there is only one way. I must expose The Great One for the monster he truly is...
....To be continued.

"The Day the Great One Appeared" Part II
By John Amaruso

At a very young age I found myself writing to myself. Scribbling notes, jotting down ideas, stringing words and phrases together to remind myself of who I am, what I think, what I want. It was this system of brainstorming and record keeping that kept me going, kept me alive. I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have such a medium for my caged soul.
It was Nietzsche who thought of art as the highest form of human activity. Without art, man would be nothing more than a barbarian armed with less than nothing to express himself. Art's absence bleeds any sort of meaning out of the very unique existence we have been granted by God himself. Without art, we have nothing to love, and without love, we have nothing. Nothing.
Art as mankind had come to know it in the 20th and 21st century is now obsolete. There's no use for it. The depictions of ancient fables, stories of crime and passion, the tales of trial and tribulation, the songs of settings and scenery, the pages of love and despair, they have all but disappeared. It's not because they had lost their meaning; it's because we as a society have lost our meaning.
It's near impossible to relate to something in which you haven't the slightest clue about. It's just as alien as coming into contact with another form of life- you know nothing of it. It's language would be wildly foreign, it's customs overtly shocking, it's beliefs wholly blasphemous; how can you empathize with it's being? With it's desires? How can you see, think, or feel what they do? It's for this exact reason that the art of Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Bach, Hemmingway, were not only undesirable- they were loathesome.
As society became more and more collective, more concentrated, organized and controlled, so did their thoughts. Individualism was something of an uncivilized brute. A disease which infected only the uneducated, the unenlightened; the simplified yearnings of animals. To be different was to be unfaithful to the world of One's greatness. To disavow all that has brought peace to the world. To bring art, philosophy, analysis, critiques and thoughts into this world would be as though you brought the water to the burning fire of human progress.
What I know of Nietzsche, Beethoven, Jules Verne, I learned through word of mouth or the few pages you could find in the One archives. Their existence and their contribution to the world was no longer appreciated by the world of One. Their records are left to gather dust in Tupperware bins in the back halls of the archives. With only express permission from the Great One himself could you be granted access to these files.
"I'm sorry Sir, what is the name of the book you are looking for?"
"Fredrich Nietzsche, the Use and Abuse of History."
"...Who?"
"Nee-tch-ah. Fred-rick, Nee-tch-ah."
"Hm, ok let me just check in the database... How do you spell that?"
The secretary looked at me bewildered. For starters the One archives is one of the least visited places in the town. It exists not because people actually used it, but because people should at the very least have access to use it. Or at the very least that's the reasoning applied to it's place in society.
I must have been her first patron all day and it was almost closing time.
"Hm I'm sorry dear, but we don't seem to have any record on file for Frederick Neetche... We do have a short form review of it if that would suffice..."
"No I don't want that. I want the original copy, the Use and Abuse of History."
When the Great One took power, he took the liberty of reviewing all of man's literature from start to finish. It is said it took him over 1000 years to do so, and his work is still not complete. The works he has finished though he has re-written himself, summarizing the key points and elements you as a member of One should emphasize in your studies.
"I do apologize honey. Would you like me to put in a special request with One services?"
"No that's just fine, thank you."
It was like this for a long time. Roadblocks at every turn when I tried to educate myself on something other than One. All I wanted was to understand what it was like in the past. To immerse myself in exotic ideas, breathe in poems of ancient tongue, to absorb every last drop of humanity before it was sucked dry by the Great One. My struggle to circumvent the system was seemingly futile, that is, until one day, I landed the job that would change everything.
It was my particular knack for writing that landed me a position in the One 982 Council. One 19982, along with all the other One's, was one of over 500,000 city states which were independently ran and autonomously governed by it's people. The idea came from Aristotle, who thought that true democracy could only come from small city states which governed themselves, much like ancient Athens. It was later adopted by the Great One in his re-design of human living.
The way it worked was this. The world's one billion people were divided among roughly 500,000 city states, with a maximum of 2,000 citizens within each state. Within each state, each citizen was assigned a job, and each set of jobs within each city state were uniform among each of the 500,000 city states. So for example; in my city, One 19982, 500 are assigned farming duties where they tend to the One 19982 Center City Farm. 200 are assigned custodial duties, cleaning the cities trash and litter. 200 are assigned maternal duties, or 'child care' as it used to be called. 400 were assigned book keeping or organizational duties, pushing through the paperwork needed to setup city meetings, city events, etc. Another 200 are assigned merchant duties, where they sell the products created by the remaining 300 miscellaneous factory workers. Meanwhile all citizens had mandatory Representation duty. We are all required to attend City Hall meetings to address grievances, propose ordinances, and discuss any other such issue that was at hand. Children within these 2,000 person populated city states aren't included in the City census until they became adults at age 15.Some people were assigned other duties to accompany there mandated civil service. Those few who were granted the privilege of doing something other than the tedious pushing and shoving of the world's daily labors were considered to have exhibited superior skills in fields that the Great One saw as useful in his rule. Things such as architecture, advertising, public relations, professional athletes, were all fields that required talent and extensive knowledge, things the average person could care less to possess. Me though, I had the skill of the pen, which landed me a job writing my city state, One 19982's press releases and city meeting summary reports.
This privilege put me in a position close to the Great One himself. An honor and an unimaginable burden within itself, I was required to scrupulously comb over every detail, take down every word, dot my I's and cross my T's on every report and hand deliver it to the Great One himself once a month at his residence in the One Sanctuary located where Bristol, England used to be. This was a position not to be taken lightly and was something one did with great respect for the opportunity to be graced the Great One's presence, even if it is only for a brief second or two.
It was for this reason that I was chosen by The Many to carry out a hit on the Great One. A plot to expose the Great One for his insolence, for his fallacies, for his inexcusable disregard for human value. The underground sleeper cell was beyond anything illegal- they were considered the scum of the world, the face of true evil, wrought with trechery and deceit, they were known as 'The Many Scum' by most. They were treated like the plague- if you had been exposed, or even suspected as being a member of The Many, you would most likely never be heard from again.
"There is no more room for doubt in this great world of One we have designed." bellows the Great One from his balcony to a procession of millions of adoring citizens.
"It is those who seek to undermine justice- who live to see hate and violence undo all that we have created- that work tirelessly to trick you into embracing death and evil- it is they who shall be banished from the privilege of One. It is they who have proven just how important it is that we bond together against such devilish treachery, to make our voices heard; to put an end to that which we have come so far from. To turn back now would be nothing less than the defeat of love and peace."
Applause rings out through the crowd, around the world of One through TV sets, radios, projector screens, computers, mobile devices.
The Many, a shadowy, almost unknown entity lived through word of mouth and well managed networking. If they made their presence known to you, it was because they had been following you for some time now. They studied your every move, spied on you, searched through your trash, hacked your computer, monitored your home. Anything and everything to ensure that by coming into contact with you that their cause wouldn't be put into jeopardy. When they finally did contact me, the last thing they had to worry about was my loyalty to their cause; what they did have to worry about was just how far I was willing to take it.
...to be continued


"The Day the Great One Appeared" Part III
by John Amaruso

When the pigeon flew through my window, I will admit, I was startled. Fluttering and flapping its wings wildly, it landed on the windowsill and began to bob its head back and forth, cooing every few seconds. Attached to its leg was a rolled up piece of parchment tightly wrapped in a rubber band.
It was within the first few years of the Great One's reign that a sizable opposition gained traction. They connected themselves through the internet. Groups like "The Many Against the One", "Freedom From Tyranny", and a group simply known as "The Greens" came out to protest against the consolidation of power into a single authority. Among the groups, "Anonymous", was the largest, most active, and most critical.
At first their activities were limited to cyber attacks, viral anti-One videos, propaganda messages and the like. Eventually they began executing small scale terror attacks, bombing recently built One World communities, attacking gatherings where the Great One was to give a speech; they even attempted assassinations against the Great One himself. While hundreds if not thousands died in these attacks, the Great One always walked away unscathed, even more emboldened to the rid the world of doubts against his superiority. The events showcased the Great One's resiliency, his strength, and his commitment to defend against the evils of the old world.
"As we have all witnessed, a great tragedy has befallen this great world of ours- 7 blessed souls were taken from us after cowards who refuse to see the way of righteousness and Greatness, attacked a One community that was being constructed. The injustice and inhumanity these groups represent is the precise reason why I have been sent here- it is this example of cruelty against one's fellow man that I have made my divine task to eliminate, for the good of all, and for the Greatness of One."
His uplifting tone of solidarity and community against those who perpetrated these acts of violence slowly morphed into a call for restrictions on community activities and daily life- most noticeably was his crackdown on the internet.
"It is through this free flow of information that security and freedom is undermined. It is in the confines of the underbelly of the internet where terrorists, pedophiles, the corrupt, the diseased, criminals, and the obscene find their breeding grounds. The internet has brought the world together in so many ways and yet these groups have used precisely this instrument to rip us apart- It is today that we say No Longer, No More, and Enough. It is with great pleasure that I announce a new campaign which will ensure the security of all and carry on the pursuit of justice for the victims of these rogue heretics and thieves. I present to you today, 'Operation Right It', a mission to rid the global web of all that is 'wrong'. It is this operation which will secure your freedoms, protect your liberties, and save your lives. An unavowed commitment to this plan is necessary if we are to continue on our path of progress towards the virtues of Greatness."
Operation Right It mandated that all existing computers be thrown out, demolished, dismantled, burned, or recycled. A factory located where Beijing, China used to be was constructed. There, all the world's computers would be manufactured, serviced, and distributed. The computers were all the same blue color, created with the same dimensions, 15 inches by 8 inches, installed with the same keyboards, processors, everything. The computers required registration into the "Right the Wrongs" database, a system of information collection and interpretation. Every citizen who wanted a computer was required to sign up with their local One Community Center where they would then receive an ID card, with a pin and username which only under extreme circumstances would be altered.
It was thereafter that the internet itself was transformed in its entirety. The independent servers from around the world were ordered to dismantle their services and join the Great One's server. A majority of companies and websites surprisingly signed onto the plan. Those that didn't lost everything they had and were labeled political subversives, an offense which is punishable by up to 15 years in prison.
This new 'One server' gave the Great One access to any and all information exchanged on the world's only working internet service. E-mails, browser historys, purchase information, everything was now under the watchful guise of the Great One. Any attempt to establish an external server that could circumvent this was punishable by 25 years under the Community Threat and Terror Act.
This put groups like Anonymous and The Blue out of business. The medium essential to their operation was essentially destroyed. Despite the threat of prison or exile, external servers were established by rogue organizations in the following years. Their lifespans were short, usually lasting up to about a year before being uncovered by the Great One. By the time they were caught, recruitment efforts by the organization would still be in their infancy, making the task of creating an external server futile and frankly unprofitable for the cause.
It is for this reason that The Many, the evolved accumulation of these groups, used means like carrier pigeons to send messages to one another. The birds were untraceable for the most part and were rarely the subject of investigation by authorities, making their use highly favored. There were only a few cases where it was discovered that pigeons were used to deliver messages for The Many, and that only happened when someone who had been solicited by The Many turned the bird in, either out of fear of being wrongly accused as a potential member of The Many, or simply because The Many misjudged the individual's loyalty to One.
As I unraveled the note attached to the cooing pigeon's leg, it read in bold ink blotted letters“BRICK GROUND PLANT SEED SEEK WINGS – BEGIN 1/4″
This cryptic message had more written in the spaces between the words than it did in the words themselves. They were purposely written as a puzzle to elude detection if caught accidentally by the wrong person. Fortunately for The Many, I knew exactly what they wanted. I knew where we would meet, when we would meet, and who I’d have to meet. I’m just not sure if they knew exactly who they were going to meet.
...to be continued

"Kingsley's Solace"

 "Kingsley's Solace"
by John Amaruso




Blackness fades out to the view of a blurry night sky. Focus, re-adjust, squint, focus. White specks fall endlessly into my line of sight and out to the periphery of my vision. I squint a few more times, deliberate and forceful until my eyes can focus on the world I've awoken to.

I find myself lying on my back, flat as a board. I feel numb all over. I am overwhelmed by the stiffness of the muscles in my face. A paralyzing effect has consumed my body, leaving only my sight to fill in the blanks. Trees border my sight to the north, while the southern end reveals nothing but sky.

After my vision has sharpened, I notice the white specks gently falling from the sky are actually tiny snowflakes. Intricate, beautiful, graceful, and calming, they float towards the ground on clouds of pure tranquility. It's almost as if they were dropped by God himself in a slip of hand, just to make the journey from the heavens to the earth to gently kiss my eyelashes and lips.

Serenity and peace are all I feel as I gaze into the cloudy night sky, past the hanging tree branches, beyond god's falling gifts of comfort.

I come back from this interlude of extro-spection to inquire about my present situation. I move my eyes left to right: tree branches in the far reaches of my sight. Coated with a soft sheet of snow, my clothes have a newfound weight to them. From what I can see, I can infer I'm in a wooded area. Yeah, that makes sense. I was driving down 81, that road on the outskirts of town right by the preserve... Or was it 11? Wait... Where is 11 again? 11... 11... 11...

I drift again. Taken out to sea like lifeboats detached from the dock, I wander through aimless thoughts and dreams, latching onto whatever image or process that is friendly enough to stay for a moment. Sedated to the point of pleasant hallucination, shapes shift behind my eyelids, forming geometric patterns and brilliantly wild, unrealistic creatures. The pastures of my mind are sprawled out before me and I am free to roam vociferously. How joyous and serene.

I fade back to reality. My eyes adjusting, I soak in the white fluff that has now accumulated ten fold upon my face and body. Still lying on my back, I strain my eyes to the furthest reaches south. I see the hump of my chest, blocking the view from the rest of my body. I'm wearing a dark blue uniform of some sort. Why am I wearing a uniform? What is this? My brain squeals at the exhausting attempt to make sense of this.

Come to think of it... What can I remember?...

Driving. Yes, I was driving. I was behind the wheel of a car. A muffled walkie talkie, inaudible in my recollection, fades in and out. I lose grip of the memory.

Coming back I can see the hump of my chest ventilating, moving up and down. I'm breathing. That's a good thing.

I still can't feel anything. My body is completely numb. I would normally be much more worried about this if it wasn't so peaceful. So relaxing. So calm and motionless. The world would be all but still if it weren't for Gods good salutations that majestically blanket my body and earth.
My eyes fade out again as the snowflakes and branches lose their contour. I am one with myself. I am infinite. I am ready, domicile, and calm. My eyes drift to darkness. Peace.

With an abrupt spasm, I cough violently. My body jerks upwards with intensity, jolting feeling through my entire being. A sharp burning pain engulfs my left side. A hand pushes down on my chest. Flashing blue and red lights break the frigid air, illuminating a mans featureless face. Hovering over me, his cap reads in large yellow letters "EMT."

"Officer Kingsley, you've been shot. Please, stay calm, we're bringing you to St. Mary's hospital once the ambulance is ready."

Sirens in the distance bring a human noise to natures orchestra.

"Kingsley." I think to myself.

"That's my name: Kingsley."

The 11 o' clock news airs in the homes of thousands in Cayuga county. The anchor reads the days top headlines.

"An officer was shot in the line of duty yesterday after pulling over a suspect alleged to have been involved in a string of violent bank robberies in the Central New York area. The Officer, James Kingsley, is said to be in stable condition. We wish you the best in your road to recovery."

"Is your pet getting enough protein? A special report by Mandy Hollins reveals shocking new details on the epidemic of pet malnutrition in America..."

"My Time in Amsterdam"

"My Time in Amsterdam"
By John Amaruso

When I first arrived in Amsterdam, the lights, the sounds, the sights, were amazing. The cobblestone roads, the red lit glass windows with prostitutes beckoning your patronage, the endless procession of coffee/pot shops, the pubs, they were all fascinating. The fact that a culture was so accepting and open to all these different vices was a shock to me, coming from a religious and uptight country like America.
When I arrived in Amsterdam I went to the hostel me and Jessica booked. Two nights at 'The Flying Pig Downtown', the 'hippest and best' hostel for backpacking tourists through Europe. Sounded ideal for two people who knew nothing of Amsterdam and wanted to experience a stay in a hostel. Couldn't have been more wrong.
The room I was in smelled like dirty feet and gym socks. 18 other nameless strangers cramped in a room of bunk beds, engulfed with the smell of sweat and dirty hippy odor inflamed my nostrils to the point where I couldn't close my eyes for more than 5 minutes without wanting to vomit. Closing my eyes increases all my other senses; ten fold.
So I left. I found a hotel down the block, called the Hotel Sint Nicholas- 70 euro a night and I got a nice double bed, neatly decorated, clean, odorless and hippyless. My kind of place.
Stayed there for two nights waiting for Jessica's arrival. She comes up with the theory that because she missed her flight and because she didn't look at her itinerary, it is my fault and I should pay for the hostel room that she missed. Doesn't make much sense, but what it does do is sour relations between an already fair-weathered friend. I tell her she's out of her mind if she thinks she's getting a penny from me for her mistake. Those with no sense of responsibility tend to believe everybody else is responsible.
Despite this I spend my first few days alone walking around the city, getting to know it. I start by walking through the infamous Red Light District. The myths of hookers and drugs free flowing through the streets, the legends of seedy nights and hazy recollections of mischievous and dubious activities attract the likes of all sorts of tourists from around the world to this playground of debauchery.
As I walk through, I'm expecting to see what I've been told, but did not expect to see what I saw. As I walk through the district, I take a quick glance to my left. There's a woman, standing in nothing but lingerie, peering out through a glass door at me, waving her finger, asking me to come inside. As quickly as I looked at her, I turned away in utter shock. I felt that I had done something wrong for actually looking at a woman standing in the middle of a street, behind a glass door, in nothing but her underwear. After the initial shock, I saw dozens of more glass doors like the first one. All with different hookers in different shapes and sizes; some beautiful, thin, dolled up and immaculate; others fat, ugly, gruesome and old. Then there were the transvestites. What a surprise some guys got when they went up and started conversation and the tone of a man's voice comes from what looked like a beautiful woman's mouth.
By my second day there I met a kid from Finland and a kid from Spain who were promoting a local pub crawl. I befriend them and we grab a beer at a local bar. The kid from Finland, Henry, plays the guitar and piano. He tells me how he grew up on heavy metal the same way I did. We tell each other we're gonna jam out seeing that I'm a drummer, but that never comes to fruition.
Afterwards we go grocery shopping and have dinner at his flat with his other roommates who all attend the same college together. The chance to be in a locals home in Amsterdam is rare. I accept it and embrace it with open arms and thank them for their hospitality.
Afterwards I leave. I go back to the hotel and ask the man at the front desk if a woman came in looking for a Timothy Kearney. He points out the window and says she just walked that way. So I run out in hopes that I can catch her, and luckily I find her down one of the many alleyways walking with two guys. I call out her name and stop her. We chat for a moment, then decide we should go find a place to have her currency exchanged.
Being about 8pm, most currency exchange places had closed for the night. Realizing this, I tell her how I exchanged my currency at a local fast food place, Mr. Toms, and how most businesses around here will do exchange money for a fair rate.
We stop in a local convenience store. I walk up to the counter and ask if he'll do an exchange rate for Jessica. He gladly accepts, and says for English Pounds he will give exact Euros back. He neglects to add that it's actually a rip off of 30%. She accepts, and is about to hand 100 pounds for 100 euros, in which she should have been receiving 130 Euros. I tell the man that he is ripping her off and he should give her a better deal. Jessica angrily looks at me and tells me to walk out of the store. I pause for a moment, glare at her, and walk out.
She walks out mighty and high, telling me who do I think I am, and that she can handle this on her own; she says quote 'because she's a woman she can't handle it?' Apparently I'm annoying, she's independent, she doesn't need my help. I tell her I'm only trying to help her not get ripped off, and this has nothing to do with gender. Her indignant response infuriates me, so I tell her to go have fun independently and walk away.
Later on that night I end up getting drunk at a pub by myself. I see two women sitting at a booth on the other side of the bar. Those two girls made up about 30% of the bar's population; me, 15%.
So after a few drinks I promise myself to gather up the courage to go meet somebody. I walk over to their table, introduce myself, and we walk. It goes smoothly. They tell me they're from Argentina, one's a psychologist and the other is a journalist. We have a good conversation for an hour or two, right up until the bar's closing time. We say our goodbyes, and I wish them well on their journey through Europe. Never to be seen again.
I end that night by getting high in a coffee shop called Abbraxas. By myself, I'm sitting next to a group of Italians, I can't understand a word they're saying. An Asian kid sits next to me, he too by himself, and we both tentatively smoke our joints, pondering why we're alone. Such answers are complicated.
I end up getting too high for my own good. I stumble back home, to the point where I'm almost tripping out. I lay in bed for no more than a half hour, and I get a ring on the hotel telephone. It's the lady at the reception desk, telling me I have someone who wants to speak to me. It's Jessica.
She tells me to come downstairs and that she needs to talk to me. I reluctantly comply, put on clothes and go downstairs.
She's high off of her rocker. We walk out of the hotel and walk down the block, talking as we stroll. Her first night in Amsterdam she tells me is haunted by strange noises and voices coming from her room, and stories of spirits haunting her hotel hallway. I tell her she's being over-dramatic and has to chill out. I ask her if she took any heavy drugs; psychedelics, cocaine, anything that would make her freak out and paranoid the way she is. She claims she's just high.
I end the conversation by telling her I am very high and I need my sleep. I couldn't function, let alone function with somebody who wasn't functioning. She tells me she is scared because she's a lone girl walking around Amsterdam. I tell myself she wanted to be the lone girl, independent and ignorantly proud, that was her choice, not mine. Instead of voicing my inner voice, I answer with don't worry it will be fine and that I will talk to her in the morning.
I do my best to avoid her at all costs from that point on.
I wake up and decide to go on the Volendam, Marken and Windmill bus tour. Not before I get a little high though.
I smuggle pot into a coffee shop, buy a soda from them to lend me legitimacy for sitting inside the shop, smoke it, watch a Hootie and the Blowfish concert on the tv, and leave.
I arrive at the pick up spot for the tour. I notice a lone girl among the group of couples, families and friends. She's wearing a white pea-coat. She's blonde, about 5'5', pretty face, nice eyes. I wonder why she's as alone as I am.
I get on the bus and take a tour throughout Amsterdam. I videotape the moving scenery as we drive by, catching images and videos of both the Dutch countryside and Dutch urban landscape.
We arrive at a Cheese factory. The tour guide says we can choose to join her in the cheese factory to see how the cheese is made, or we could go off by ourselves and tour the city. I choose the latter, for improvisation is better than orchestration.
The landscape was filled with 500 year old windmills, powering the small town. They're huge, beautiful and green. Apparently the black and green themed paint wasn't optional. It was practical, as it was made of grass and tar, the cheapest way to paint your house. It also helped insulate the home from high winds and weathering. Ingenious.
We return to the bus and go to Volendam, a small little town with a lot going on. We go to a clog making factory, and watch how clogs are made. I find out their uses varied; they were cheap and many pairs could be bought for big families for practically nothing, while farmers used them to protect their feet from being crushed from the stomping of horse hooves. Innovative.
As we're standing and waiting for the group to return, I overhear the blonde woman talking to two Asians. The Asians have thick accents, I assume their from China. The girl has a very familiar accent, an American one. Surprising for the fact that up until this point I hadn't met one American during my stay here.
I intercede and ask her where her she is from. At first she's confrontational, but after a few moments she lightens up and says she's from Arizona. She teaches in the country of Georgia; tells me how ignorant and crazy the population is. They clamor for the rule of Communism. Soviet style. Stalinist, authoritarian rule. She says how they believe stability always trumps prosperity.
The Asians I find out are from Australia. Interesting.
We agree to all go out together and grab a drink. A few drinks to be exact.
The night goes smoothly. We joke and talk about our experiences. Me and the blonde relate over American things and talk about Communism. She tells me how she is going to go to Belgium tomorrow for the day. I tell her that sounds amazing and how I would love to join. She seems a bit ambivalent about the proposition, so I drop it.
While walking around the red light district, I joke with her and try convincing her to approach a hooker and ask how much. Never happens.
We end the night at some shady eat-in place and order some overpriced deep fried crap. The Asians sit awkwardly. The blonde is getting hostile with them and tells them to leave us. At a point I even feel offended. After a few more abrasive hints, they get the picture and leave.
After they leave she jokes and says how she thinks they're gay. I tell her I don't think so.
After that I ask if she needs me to walk her back to her hotel, as it is a far walk. She declines. I offer to walk her halfway. She declines. She calls a taxi. The taxi arrives. She leaves. Never to be seen again.
I wake up the next morning, hungover. I say to myself; fuck it, I'm going to Belgium. I jump on the next train to Belgium.
Two and a half hours later, I am in Brussels, Belgium. The Grand Palace in the center of the city was beautiful. The architecture of these 16th, 17th century buildings and cathedrals were magnificent. I couldn't believe how beautiful it was. Belgium was just the stepping stone for Germany to invade France; twice. At least that's all I ever knew up until this point.
I walk around the city. Me, a backpack and a camera. I'm hesitant about pulling out my tablet; the woman on the train warned me that Brussels is dangerous. It freaks me out, as the city is a bit dingy around the edges. Especially North Brussels which I had the pleasure of passing by on the way. Looked like NYC before Guilliani cleaned it up; plus crystal meth.
The city itself is nice. Until I get lost in the French Muslim Ghetto. Never knew a place existed; until I walked into it. The scenery of french Arab children coming home from elementary school with their parents was fascinatingly different for me.
I wandered a few miles from the Belgium Centraal Station, which was not a good idea. I ask for directions. Virtually nobody speaks a lick of English. A poor neighborhood like this one can't afford a good education, so it's strictly french here.
I finally find my way despite the language barrier from the one white french person in the whole area. Bus 65 to Centraal. A bit of confusion over the bus ticket, I don't think I actually had to pay, but I worked my way in, paying two euros.
I finally get back on the train and arrive back in Amsterdam safe and sound.
I see Jessica. I try talking to her. She ignores me. I walk away.
The guy at the front desk says she's upset and I should probably talk to her. I tell him she should probably apologize to me.
I end up getting very high again, going home and passing out.
Friday comes and I decide I want to go to the Anne Frank museum. It was so interesting learning about her life. Until that point I had actually never read anything Anne Frank wrote. Her writing was amazing, something that should be cherished, something I now completely understood. I was inspired by her strong will and articulate thoughts, and how powerful of a little girl she really was.
Later that night I attend the pubcrawl the Finnish and the Spaniard told me about. I arrive by myself. I am inundated with endless vodka shots. I had pre-gamed just as hard before. Stupid me.
I meet a few girls from... not sure. I believe Ireland. We have a lovely conversation. Don't remember any of it. I end up blacking out and leaving after the first bar. 17 euros, gone.
I wake up, apologize to Henry for leaving the pubs. Too much free vodka is only good if you want to black out. I certainly did not.
I wake up to a canal cruise. 10 euros and it was some crap. Cool to see Amsterdam from a different angle, learn about the boat houses and stuff like that. In general though, boring.
I go out and get high again. I go back to the hotel and lay down for a very long time. Watch some tv, chill out before this night's pubcrawl, where I promised myself I wouldn't make the same mistake.
I arrive at Nelly's pub for the pubcrawl. I talk to the guy, he gives me the details. I sit at the bar and order a few drinks. I walk outside for a cigarette. I walk back in. A woman is walking up to the one free section at the bar simultaneously. I give her the courtesy and let her in first. She smiles and thanks me.
I wait behind her for a few minutes, as she waits to get her drink. Brunette, nice eyes, about 5'6', great body, nice outfit. She's cute.
After a few minutes, the guy to the right of her walks from the bar. I walk into that spot to try to order myself a drink. As I do this, the brunette looks over at my wristband, and asks if I am here for the pubcrawl. I tell her yes. She almost immediately invites me to hang out with her and her friends in the downstairs of the bar. I comply.
I meet all her friend. Jacob, Jason, Emily, Emily, and her, Ashlee. All from Australia. Ashlee tells me she's a teacher. The song 'Hot for teacher' rattles through my head.
The other people tell me about themselves, I don't remember any of it.
We end up having a great time. Laughing, joking, poking at differences in American and Australian cultures. Imitating accents and joyfully drinking. We drank with a stag party, or what we in America would call a bachelor party. A group of men, divided evenly between men dressed up as Mario or Luigi. It's interesting how European bachelor parties are all themed. The other bachelor party on the pubcrawl were all dressed as matadors.
We arrive at the next bar, Teaser's. An imitation of hooters. I meet a Scottish woman. Beautiful. Brunette, beautiful eyes, skinny, club girl material. Her accent is thick. Her drunkenness is apparent. Combined, it's incoherent.
She kisses me. She can't kiss for her life. She was off timing, completely naive to the act of making out. The Australians look on and laugh. I participate and laugh. Her aggressiveness goes from sexy to crazy in 2.5 seconds as she pulls my hair and mutters incoherent sentences with that awful accent of hers. I flee the scene with my Australian friends.
As me and the Australians walk down the block, a few minutes later we see her making out with another guy. I ask myself if I have herpes. The Australians laugh.
We end the night at another late night dine in. We reminisce and talk about how much fun the night was. We part ways after coming to the conclusion that it was 4 in the morning and I was leaving early for NYC. We reluctantly say our goodbyes, exchange facebooks, and the rest is history.
My time in Amsterdam was one that I will never forget. That is why I wrote this, so I won't soon forget. It won't be my last time. I promise myself, I will return.

"Sweet Surrender"

 "Sweet Surrender"
by John Amaruso

As she dug her black tipped fingernails into the contours of his skin, he felt shivers. The sensation echoed through his body like a thousand ripples in a calm sea from a stone's impact. Naturally gliding down his bare torso, the top of her blood red dyed hair was all he could see. Inching her way down towards the region of immorality, his breathe became heavy and involuntary. The clawing of another person's hands at his belt sends flashes of warmth through his being.
With eyes green as the snake's scale, her ominous gaze and seductive aura was enough to succumb the best of men into a world of misfortune. Her lips part only for a moment to give way to a luminescent smile. A smile of perfect temptation.
A gentle peck of her ruby red lips upon his stomach. The clicks and clatters from a stereo playing from the other room fill the ambiance with much needed tranquility. Twisting and turning, the air felt as though it was tangible, edible, something of substance.
A mutter of sweet nothings part from her lips. He smiles and lets out a small gasp of bliss as she begins the process of his surrender. The top of her blood red dyed hair was all he could see. The gentle but firm grasp of her intentions took hold of his essence.
A feeling of misconduct and wrong coalesced into a pool in the back of his head. Remaining there, stagnant and filthy, the pool was a reminder of his indecency. A never ceasing immorality directed his body and corrupted his brain.
Her black tipped fingernails dig into his chest as she performs what he has procured. Her snake scale eyes look down upon him, matched with a luminescent smile of temptation. A grin and an outlet of joy sneaks its way out of the corners of her lipstick drenched lips.
She pauses for a moment to assess her partner. He notices the sense of insecurity and cautious inquiry about to pass through her teeth. Like a fish beneath the water, her words are drowned in the pool of his immorality.
The static is all encompassing, preventing her words from penetrating. His eyes close and open with the quickness of a man fleeing a crime scene. The music from the other room suddenly becomes much louder than it had been moments ago when it served as the background to this forbidden scene.
His reflexes push her to the other side of the bed. Gathering his scattered belongings and placing them back into the proper places among his persons, he makes no recognition of her presence. She sits with sheets covering her lack of decency. Her snake scale eyes, opened wide and baffled, she repeats the same question over and over. He doesn't react with any sort of humanity.
He reaches into his pocket and lays down on the end table double what is owed.
"I can't do this." he says.
His exit from the room is sealed with the closing of the door behind him, and a frozen frame of a woman sitting upright on a bed, dazed, confused, and left with nothing less than solitude.

"The Woman in Red"

 "The Woman in Red"
by John Amaruso

The evening is brisk and saturated with dew. The fog outlines shapes and reshapes vision. Out of the fog, a tall, slender man boards a train. Grabbing the rail handle and lifting himself up onto the platform, he carries his briefcase under his left arm with the weight of an overworked soul.
Taking his seat in the 2nd class section, he places his briefcase on the desk in front of his chair. Sifting through files and anonymous paperwork, he looks up to see no one around. Just him, his labor and his thoughts.
With hand to chin and a pensive gaze, he slaves over monotonous details of statistics and research.
The train is headed from Oradea to Bucharest where he is set to attend a business meeting. A whistle blows and the wheels churn to move forward.
Reading over his case studies and economic forecasts for the fiscal year, the train thumps and grinds relentlessly. The machinery painstakingly chews opposing rusted nuts and bolts, unchanged since the reign of Caucescu.
His eyes wander for a moment scanning the train cart from the early 70's. Flexing his lips back and forth, he returns to his study.
A large thump shakes the entire train cart up and down, back and forth, breaking his concentration, directing his eyes upward towards the end of the cart.
There, a woman in a red dress stands quietly. Eloquently dressed, proper enough to be a princess, she stands with arms bent outwards from her hips. Her hands are parallel to the floor in a pose implying the start of a well choreographed dance.
Her blonde hair curls naturally at its ends. Her eyes full of mystique and wonder, she stares at him with the most benevolent of gazes.
He stares back with intense curiosity. He turns to look around to see if anyone else is sharing the same sight as he is. At that moment he is reminded that he is totally alone.
She slowly raises her arm towards him and curls a finger, beckoning his ascendance from the chair.
'Excuse me? May I ask what you are doing?' Says the man dressed in his shirt and tie.
She smiles passively. With that she moves for the door connecting the train carts behind her.
Opening the door, she dances with the poise of a swan. Pushing the air about her, she disappears behind the darkened passage.
Turning around again and looking for mutual witnesses to this bewildering scene, he is overwhelmed with curiosity. Putting down his pen, he pursues the mysterious woman in red.
As he walks through the corridor to the next cart over, he is shocked at what stands before him.
What should have been a train cart was an empty darkened room. A single spotlight hanging from nowhere, it illuminates the center of the room, revealing the ceiling and walls as non existent. The darkness engulfs the entirety of whatever it was he had ventured into.
He turns around to analyze his surroundings only to find that the door he used to enter has gone missing.
The woman in red appears from the darkness. Into the spotlight, her blood red dress brings life to the otherwise hollow room. Her hair curls at it's ends so naturally, so beautifully.
With poise and grace, she twirls in a circle while performing what seemed to be a ballet recital. She extends her arm again towards the confused man, beckoning his presence.
He winces and blinks with confusion and intrigue.
'What is all this?' He inquires politely.
Repeating the same passive smile that spelled only purity, she turns her hand over, palm flat, asking for his hand.
Almost instinctively he accepts her offer. Very slowly and with such grace, the two begin to twirl with one another. Hand in hand, they transfer energies through the form of physical courtship.
He feels an overwhelming sense of normality and comfort. A belonging of sorts takes him over and he feels one with the stranger in red. A reciprocity of closeness and affection fills the room with romance.
Looking into each others eyes, they smile mutual appreciation of the others company. No more than a nose lengths away, their hands are clasped as they slow dance under the mysterious spotlight in the darkened room that once was a train cart.
He brings her in closer to his chest. The two are now resting their heads on the others shoulder. Their dance could slight the least of romantics into a poetic flurry of emotion.
With eyes closed and a smile, he is one with her.
'I love you' he quietly whispers over her shoulder, looking into the darkness of the room.
He slowly pulls away to look into the face of his new found love.
Replacing the wonder and mystique in her eyes was a set of white, bloodshot eyes which twitched in their sockets. Blood slowly drips from the corner of her mouth. Her head tilts towards the ceiling. Her body goes completely limp.
Reacting with instant reflex, he saves her from hitting the floor. Holding her in his arms, her head tilted backwards, he is in utter shock. Convulsing in his arms, she slowly lifts her head up.
Her eyes roll back and the horror of death has disappeared and is replaced with burning embers of red and fury.
In a dark and bone chilling tone, she grumbles
'Are you happy now?'
He suddenly awakens in a cold sweat. Breathing heavily and terrified, his conscious cant tell the difference between what was reality only moments ago and what is the current reality.
A light from the bathroom creeps out from under the door. He quickly departs from the bed to seek answers.
Opening the door, he finds his girlfriend, sprawled out on the tiled floor. Pale and cold, dried blood leads a trail from the corner of her lip to her chin. Her eyes white and bloodshot, her arms are flail behind her head, her legs crumpled in disarray.
Her palm facing the ceiling, an empty prescription bottle lays label down, a few inches away.
A message is written in lipstick on the mirror.
'Are you happy now?'.

"All Dead Men Pay Their Debts"

"All Dead Men Pay Their Debts"
By John Amaruso

    The scene opens with the view of the bathroom door on the side of a gas station. The sound of a running faucet is muffled through the dirt stained door.
    Inside a man is washing blood off of a large knife. His hands clenching a towel, the man with scrupulous care cleanses the weapon. His eyes fixated downward at the knife, the dirtied mirror reflects his face.
    Our character exits the bathroom and walks to an idling '88 Grand marquis. Black as night, the car rumbles and hums in procession.
    The view from inside the dark trunk reveals a man standing over it. Wearing a tough black winter jacket, the man's demeanor is calm and emotionless. The stubble on his face masks his rat like features. His dirty blonde hair hangs to his brows. Inside the trunk a rolled up carpet hides a bloodied body. The man tosses the knife on top of the carpet, creating a thud noise as it bounces off the carpet and onto the trunk floor.
    Three figures are outlined in the back windshield as the car's brake lights light up the night. Two in the front, one in the backseat. It exits the station and into the cool air.
    The sound of the whipping air passing by the car is the static that fills their ears. The driver, a large, husky bearded man, controls the over-sized steering wheel as they travel over the solitary road. With deep set eyes and a bald head, he resembles a worn out but eerily mischievous bearded judge.
    The man in the passenger seat is gaunt and tall. His meager wrists exposes the bones connecting to his hands. As his elbow leans against the window, he rests his chin into his hand, looking out the window at the passing scenery of nothingness. His scraggy posture makes him more or less the runt of the group.
    Our character, the rat faced man, sits in the backseat with an almost mirror image of the passenger. Peering out through the window, he looks out into the vast openness that surrounds them. The desert sand lining the road is kicked up as the car passes.
Pensive, our character thinks to himself.
    The murder was cold, quick, and surprisingly simple he thought. No dramatics, no struggle, nothing. Just like a man turns on a light switch, it was over in an instant. An entire existence ended in an instant. A potential future erased from the pages of history. A shameful death for a man who made a few mistakes with the wrong people.
"What a sorry son of a bitch." he murmurs under his breath. His stoic position in the backseat exudes an aura of deep thought.
"The poor guy's gutted in a gas station bathroom along some dirt road in the middle of nowhere by a couple of rag tag hired hands. All because he made a few mistakes with the wrong people."
    He thinks to himself how much more pathetic it is that he was the one to deliver such judgment upon him. Who was he? he thought. Just another soul lost in a world that showed him no mercy. Struggling for his next dollar, hustling for the next high, doing despicable things to obtain both.
    Just another worthless bastard who would murder a man in cold blood for a few bucks. A man who's actions had not hurt him. He let these thoughts swirl and foment as the car trembled down the road.
    This man may have been in the same vicinity as he at some other point in his life. He was from Stockton after all. Not too far from where he grew up. He could have been a cashier at a shop he once stopped in. The man could have been a passerby on a busy street one day. Hell, he could have very well once been a friend of his, an acquaintance. Regardless, he did not know who the man was. He did know what became of him though.
    Miles down the road, all is quiet with the exception of the whipping air. The tension is palpable as the car grumbles down the road. A few bumps in the road and all three men move with the friction. The bearded judge looks into his rear view, then back at the road, then back into the rear view. Breaking the silence, he looks at our character.
"A dead man always pays his debts".
Our character looks into the bearded judge's eyes through the mirror. The bearded judge's eyes stare back momentarily, then drift back to the road ahead.
The cryptic message resonates through his consciousness.
Indeed, all dead men pay their debts.
    The car pulls over at another gas station. Leaving the car running, our character exits the backseat and heads into the store.
    The scene cuts to our character in the bathroom, dipping his fingertips into the water filled sink. Splashing his face a few times he turns the sink faucet off. Holding himself up by the sink, he pauses for a moment. He looks upward into the mirror. Peering into himself, he is deep in thought. He takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly through his nose. He closes his eyes and grips the sink tightly.
"How did it come to this?" he thinks to himself.
    Looking back up into the mirror he lets out another deep inhale. The sink lets out a last droplet of water. All is calm.
    He turns around to exit the bathroom. As suddenly as he blinks, he is chest to chest with a man. The man grabs the back of his neck and thrusts a knife into his gut, twisting it quickly. With a loud grunt, blood is violently ejected from his mouth. It splatters onto the wall behind the assailant.
Everything goes black.
    The scene opens up again and the running of a faucet sink is muffled through the bathroom door, eerily lasting for a few moments.    
    The scene shifts to the car, black as the night, rumbling and humming in procession.
    The view from inside the dark trunk reveals a man standing over it.
    Inside the trunk a rolled up carpet hides the bloodied body of our character. The man tosses the knife on top of the carpet.
    Three figures are outlined in the back windshield as the car's brake lights light the night. It exits the station and into the night's cool air.

Script25

John: The Conservative's paranoia has finally proven right- Barack Obama is a socialist muslim tyrant hell bent on destroying the American way.

Bryant: No, that's not what happened...

John: Planned Parenthood has been exposed as performing wholesale abortions out of black market abortion clinics for unwed teen mothers-

Bryant: No dude, that's not it either.

John: Since the passing of same sex marriage laws, the men of America will be forced to get gay married-

Bryant: No man, what the fuck, the IRS thing.

John: Ohhhh yeah, you're right- The Conservatives have finally been proven right- The IRS is coming for your taxes

Bryant: Close enough... this is NGNJ

(Intro)
John: Welcome to the news with the Next Gen News Junkies, I'm John Amaruso

Bryant: And I'm Bryant Clark

John: And we are now what we will one day used to be.

Bryant: Deep.

John: Replacing the old system of using an Hawaiin citizen on top of a volcano to scream HEY TSUNAMI! Scientists have figured out a way to make tsunami predictions more accurate, using GPS satellites- That's right GPS's- (GPS narrative) TSUNAMI, AHEAD, MAKE U TURN WHERE POSSIBLE, MAKE U TURN WHERE POSSIBLE.

Bryant: The IRS has been marred in controversy after reports of political prosecution for specific conservative and tea party affiliated groups who were seeking tax exempt status- It is for this exact reason that when I fill out my tax returns, I use the name... Franklin Delano Roosevelt. (play skit)

John: Google is under scrutiny after Congress has decided to launch an investigation into Google Glass for how well the device will protect the user's privacy... Well, seeing that Google has already taken it upon themselves to own your e-mail account, collect your data history, translate your conversations, operate your mobile devices, and have mapped the earth, ethics seem to be the last of Google's priorities- that is why we at NGNJ are proud to introduce- Googleair- point, click, breathe- coming to a lung near you.

Bryant: In an effort to marginalize the oppressed religious right, Brazil has become the latest country to legalize same sex marriages- With the amount of scantly clad women and beautiful rears that this country is known for, it can now be proven that gay, is most definitely not a choice- it's actually quite unfortunate.

John: Pope Francis in his first speech about the economic crisis, says world leaders must stop their worship of the 'money cult', and bring money back to the poor and help the common person- From the grave, Martin Luther King Jr gave Pope Francis a word of advice- Duck.

Bryant: The Pentagon has authorized the use of Iphones and Ipads in their daily services for employees. These devices along with their apps will prove to be a great help to the efficiency at the Pentagon- or they will be used to stitchpic incriminating photos of torture. (show picture)

John: Israel has begun building new settlements on Palestinian territory. In other words, Fuck You Palestine.

Bryant: Costa Rican President Laura Chinchilla is the center of a scandal for her use of a jet plane owned by a Colombian man who is under investigation for drug trafficking- well, Mrs. President, you should have known, hanging out with any Colombian makes you an automatic accessory to any international drug ring.

John: The CDC released a report saying that over 1/5 of American Children have a mental disorder- this makes sense, seeing that you would have to be crazy to get through the American Education System.


John: Well that does it for us here at NGNJ, I'm Jamaruso

Bryant: And I'm Blark

John: Do these American flags make my audit look big?

Bryant: Big and juicy.

John: Goodnight and party like it's 1999.

The Yugoslav Wars: Communism, Ethnic Rivalry and Fanatic Leadership

John Amaruso
Professor Steck
11/20/2012

                                       The Yugoslav Wars: 
              Communism, Ethnic Rivalry and Fanatic Leadership

            The wars that erupted in the country of Yugoslavia after the dissolution of the Soviet Union brought to light the boiling ethnic tensions that had been suppressed for over a century. A country comprising of widely different ethnicities and religious factions were united under the leadership of Josip Broz Tito and the League of Communists of Yugoslavia when the Axis powers invaded the country in 1943. For a period of almost 40 years, Yugoslavia’s undercurrent of ethnic tension was put on hold as the idea of a unified Yugoslavia and common Yugoslavian identity was enforced through the authoritarian leader’s decree. This concept held true for many countries that fell behind the Iron curtain, only to see these ideas thrown to the waste side as ultra nationalist movements played their part in reviving ancient animosities.
    After Josip Broz Tito’s death, these problems began to slowly bubble, as nationalist movements organized around the idea of self-determination for their particular constituencies. This resulted in large scale movements driven by ethnic identity to break away from the country and gain independence. This attempt at independence by various ethnic groups such as the Albanians, Croats and Bosnians led by figures like Slobodan Milos̆ević who condemned such activities, which in turn only exacerbated the problem.
    What we will strive to figure out is what the events and situations were that ultimately led to one of the bloodiest wars in recent history. Was it the teachings of Communism, the abandonment of one’s ethnic identity in favor of national and class identity an impediment to this conflict or did it merely serve to prolong and deepen the animosity? Did leaders involved in the conflict mishandle and even perpetuate the violence that ended up leaving over 140,000 people dead? Are these tensions still prevalent and do they still guide public discourse in some of the newly independent states created out of these wars?
    Much like most of the countries we know, the country of Yugoslavia was formed in the wake of World War I. Woodrow Wilson's 14 points, specifically his concept of 'self-determination' led many people in Europe who were ruled under the various empires to believe their chance at autonomy had finally come. What many did not realize was that the crumbling of these empires left behind a much worse fate for those who sought independence. The moment for independence and true self determination was undermined by the international community's follied efforts at appeasing world power's interests.
    Prior to the eruption of World War I, the region later known as Yugoslavia was split between a few different empires. Serbia and Montenegro formed a kingdom in the south and were aligned with Czarist Russia (Mitrovic). A part of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire, Slovenia and Croatia in the west. Later the annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina angered many Serbs and Bosnians and eventually led to the assassination of the Austrian arch duke Franz Ferdinand by a Serbian citizen (Mitrovic). This flash point in history is seen as the beginning of World War I, an end to 20th century empires, and the foreshadowing of ethnic nationalists attempting to carve a path of independence in the face of other powers attempting to exert control over the region.
    Yugoslavia after World War I was comprised of mostly South Slavic Orthodox Christians with a large Muslim minority that lasted from 1918-1941(Lampe). The Kingdom was a union of the State of Slovenes, Croats and Serbs, the Kingdom of Serbia, and the Kingdom of Montenegro. The regions of Kosovo, Vojvodina and Vardar Macedonia were brought in as well as they were under the rule of Serbia prior to World War I (Lampe). The official name of the Kingdom in its early years was the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, but the "Kingdom of Yugoslavia" was the other term many in the international community used, and was eventually applied after the Axis powers invaded in 1941 (Lampe).
    Despite the formal unification, there were still Serbs who desired a "Greater Serbia" which was controlled from Belgrade and extended to where Croatia and Bosnia are today. Meanwhile Croats in the region desired autonomy (Silber). The tensions between these two groups boiled in the early years of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. In 1928, a Serb deputy in the national parliament shot 5 Croatian Deputies, killing two deputies and the leader of the Croatian Peasants, Stjepan Radić, after Croatian deputies called for a reign in of Serbian centralization of the government (Silber). The seeds of ethnic conflict were planted from this moment on, and the Croatian nationalist movement grew in size to combat what they saw as Serbian extremism.
    The Croatian nationalist group, the Ustaše organization was formed in the wake of the event. The Ustaše organization along with other exiled political groups were eventually held responsible for the assassination of Alexander the 1st in October of 1934, the King of Yugoslavia at the time (Silber). His assassination while on a diplomatic visit to France sent shock waves through the region and only deepened the wounds of many involved in the conflict, and only perpetuated nationalistic sentiment.
    After the assassination, Alexander's cousin Paul is appointed Regent Prince and sought to appease Hitler's Germany which had been annexing territory starting with Poland and eventually sparked World War II (Mojzes). By joining the Tripartite Pact in March of 1941, Yugoslavia was formally inducted into the Axis powers (Mojzes). This declaration met with wide spread opposition from groups within the country.
    Shortly after Regent Prince Paul was overthrown with British support, and the original heir to the throne, Alexander's son, Peter II, who was too young at the time of his death to take power, was deemed to be of age to rule the Kingdom, at 17 years old (Silber). Informally the new rulers of Yugoslavia under Peter II retracted their support for the Axis powers, and were quickly invaded and conquered by German forces (Silber).
    The region's borders were again redrawn by Germany, Italy, Hungary and Bulgaria. Slovenia was annexed mostly into Germany territory, along with Serbia. Kosovo went to the Italians, Macedonia to the Bulgarians, and Croatia was declared an independent state after the absorption of Bosnia-Herzegovina (Silber). In Croatia, Ante Pavelić came to power, head of the Ustaše terrorist organization, with the backing of Nazi Germany (Mozjes). During his rule hundreds of thousands of Jews, Gypsies and Serbs were deported or killed (Mozjes). This memory of ethnic genocide haunted Serbs through the following years into it's dissolution in 1989.
    The "Partisan" movement, also known as the "National Liberation Army and Partisan Detachments of Yugoslavia" were a counter revolutionary force against the Nazi backed government. They were anti-fascist, pro-communist, and sought to lead the people's of the region under a federal state (Djilas). A communist revolutionary movement in Yugoslavia, they were the military wing of the National Liberation Front, a political organization controlled by the Communist Party of Yugoslavia or the KPJ (Djilas). The commander of this paramilitary organization was Josip Broz Tito. The General Secretary of the League of Communists of Yugoslavia, he led the movement that ultimately brought the Communists to power, and was eventually ushered in as Prime Minister and later President of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia in 1945 (Djilas).
    After the initial declaration by the Partisans of the "Democratic Federal Yugoslavia" in 1943, the country was to be renamed a few times, the first after only 3 short years to the "Federal People's Republic of Yugoslavia" and later the "Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia" (Djilas). Regardless of nuances, the name "Yugoslavia" stuck throughout it's history, and a manufactured national identity was to shortly follow under the Communist government.
    After the end of World War II and the defeat of the Axis Powers, Yugoslavia was formed after unifying six republics and two autonomous provinces, namely the republics of Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia and the two autonomous provinces of Kosovo and Vojvodina, under the communist party (Silber). Newly inducted president Josip Broz Tito had many challenges to face. The new communist government's most difficult and largest hurdles to overcome was the destruction left behind by World War I and World War II, the ethnic conflict between Serbs, Montenegrins and Croats, Bosnians, Slovenes, not to mention conflict along religious lines between Christians and Muslims, and meanwhile to distance themselves from the overbearing power to the east, the USSR. While Tito unlike many new communist leaders ushered in after World War II, did not have much to owe the communists in Moscow and easily broke ties with the Stalin regime.
    By becoming one of the first founders of the Non-Aligned Movement, a collection of states which formally declared no alignment with either of the major powers during the Cold War, Tito became widely respected and admired by many in his own country and around the world (Ridley).
    In a speech shortly after the departure from Moscow's orbit, Josip Broz Tito was quoted as saying "Each of our republics will count for nothing if we do not stay united. In the future we must create our history, the history of a socialist and united Yugoslavia" (Silber). This bestowed upon Tito the type of political capital and legitimacy he would need later to quell discontent and conflict between warring factions within his own country. Tito's vision of a Yugoslavia based on what many refer to as a "national communism" or "Titoism" in which an independent Yugoslavia could lead it's own path towards the perfect socialist state was received warmly by many in the state (Ridley). Meanwhile, this new path he embarked on clashed with the nationalist sentiment from many ethnic based groups in the region.
    To consolidate this widely diverse nation and to silence dissidents, Josip Broz Tito led a large scale movement of oppression against nationalist sentiment and promoted the idea of "Brotherhood and Unity", later a slogan of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia (Silber). Any sort of denunciation or dissent about the policy of "Brotherhood and Unity" was deemed a threat to Yugoslavia's national security and were met with swift and sometimes brutal punishment (Djilas). Any talks of secession or nationalist sentiment were unofficially outlawed, and many citizens as well as high ranking officials were convicted and sentenced to years in prison for such offenses (Djilas). Some of these dissenters and later prisoners under the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia included the former president of Bosnia and Herzegovina, Alija Izetbegovic, and former presidents of Croatia, Franjo Tudman and Stjepan Mesic (Djilas). Also in the purge, over 100,000 Ustaše's were executed and former members of the Fascist party were exiled and executed as well, along with Chetniks, a pro-monarchy, pro-Serbian organization (Mojzes).
    Tito and the new government sought what they called a "third way" in an attempt to distance themselves from both the west and the east. To spite the USSR's vision of a collective will of socialist states, Tito advocated pursuing socialism in ways that applied evenly for each country's particular situation (Ridley). Unlike the Soviet's communism and more in step with Mao Tse Dong's Chinese communists, the top down approach of consolidation of communist states from a single entity would not achieve prosperity for those that fell in its orbit. Rather Tito felt as though he should pursue socialism in a manner best for the Yugoslav people. An example of this is Tito's implementation of the Worker's self management policy, which gave workers the ability to make decisions regarding labor practices such as health care, work hours, and benefits for whichever particular company they work for instead of the traditional owner or supervisor declaring such rules (Obradović). Many in the west praised Tito for his courage and stray from Soviet control.
    Policies were later instituted to address ethnic tensions in the region. The federation of the Yugoslav nations and its national minorities were declared equal groups that were to co-exist in it's federal constitution in 1963 (Curtis). The option of declaring one's nationality as Yugoslav was later introduced, along with a series of national quota system in public institutions, where ethnic groups could be represented (Curtis). This was all done in exchange for an ideal setting of peace between ethnic groups and the promotion of a greater Yugoslavia in which the success of all depends on all.
    Under the oppressive but benevolent rule of Josip Broz Tito, Yugoslavia was on a path towards prosperity. Later on in his reign, Tito amended the constitution in 1974, to grant greater autonomy for local leaders, again appeasing, or some might say, putting off the inevitable turmoil of local nationalist movements against the centralized government (Silber).
    In 1980, Josip Broz Tito passed away (Ridley). Millions mourned the death of the unifying leader as his body on board a train through Yugoslavia passed small villages towards the location of his funeral in Belgrade (Ridley). With Tito's death, the mitigation of ethnic tensions was almost inevitable due to the absence of a conciliatory figure. What was left behind was an compilation of people with no one left to look to for security and unanimity.
    At the time of tito's death, the regions within Yugoslavia varied greatly in their demographics. In each of the regions, the populations were as follows-
                             

To put this into words, in Serbia, 66% were Serbian, 20% were Albanians and the autonomous provinces of Vojvodina had 56% Serbians, 22% Hungarians, 7% Croats while Kosovo, ancestral homeland of the Serbs, was 85% Albanians, and only 10% Serbs (Silber).  Slovenia was made up of 90% Slovenes, making them homogeneous and was in better shape economically than most (Silber). In Macedonia, 67% of the population were Macedonians, 20% Albanian. In Montenegro, 70% Montenegrin, 6% Albanian, and 13% non Albanian Muslim (Silber). Bosnia-Herzegovina out of all the regions was the most evenly spread, which contributed to most of the ethnic conflict there, with 33% Serbs, 40% Muslims, and 20% Croats (Silber). In Croatia, 75% of the population were Christian Croats, with a 12% Serbian population. (Silber).
    Meanwhile a man named Slobodan Milošević was making strides within the Serbian communist party. By 1986, Milošević was elected by a majority vote at the 10th Congress of the Serbian League of Communists to become President of the SKJ's Serbian Branch Central Committee (Sell). A fervent communist, Milošević denounced any and all forms of nationalism, despite being overtly pro-Serbian. Milošević provoked tensions between the Albanians and Serbs, claiming the Albanian majority in Kosovo had been oppressing the Serb minority and their rights violated (Sell). Not only this but the Albanian nationalist movement he claimed was on the verge of separatism, which would not be tolerated by the state. He pushed for reforms to reduce the autonomy of the region and looked for ways to protect the small Serbian minority in the region.
    In 1987, Slobodan Milošević attended a meeting in Kosovo with the ethnic Albanian local communist party chief (Oproiu). Met with demonstrations from both Albanians and Serbs, the tension was heightened as Serbian protesters heckled the Milošević and complained of injustice committed by Albanian authorities. In a speech to the Serbian minority, Milošević riled up the crowd, disregarding police action as useful, and the only way to obtain justice was with their own hands (Oproiu). "I suggest you take care of order yourselves... You don't have to bring the police in at all" (Silber). This implied that the Serbian minority take action themselves- to ignore the rule of law and take matters in their own hands. This was a key moment in the build up to the Yugoslav wars.
    Claims of rape, desecration of holy sites and violations of human rights committed by the Albanian people and authorities have never been confirmed. Regardless, grievances among the Serbian population festered to the point of ethnic war. Past crimes committed by both sides also played a part in lending legitimacy of such heinous acts.
    Slobodan Milos̆ević continued to stir up ethnic conflict, making speechs across the country, implicitly supporting violent revolt against what he called "Serbia's enemies". "...At home and abroad, Serbia's enemies are massing against us. We say to them: 'We are not afraid. We will not flinch from battle'" (Silber).
    Slobodan Milos̆ević also made it a point to depart from Tito's governments methods of governing, claiming he would lead an "Anti-bureaucratic" revolution (Sell). In the revolution that started in 1988, Milos̆ević held "Rallies of Truth" as he called it, in which Milos̆ević supporters overthrew local governments in Kosovo and in Montenegro and replaced them with Milos̆ević supporters (Sell). Attempts in Slovenia were impeded after Slovene forces along with Croatian police forces initiated military action against the Milos̆ević supporters (Kilber). Milosevic's populism grew among the Serbian minority in Kosovo as well as with Serbians around the country. Meanwhile, Croats, Slovenes, Montenegrins and Albanians were left to fight against vicious revolutionary forces that sought to throw them from power and eliminate their autonomy.
    Milosevic's denunciation of the 1974 constitutional amendment that granted local leaders in Kosovo, Vojvodina and other local leaders more autonomy delegitimized the existing governmental structure (Sell). By doing this, Milos̆ević single handedly disregarded the rule of law, encouraging citizens to "right the wrongs" committed by a government that was taking rights away from the Serbs, while granting power to Albanians that ultimately lead to oppression. He also rallied against the confederal system, which gave the 6 republics equal decision making power in the government, claiming it was unequal and did not balance representation of the majority of the population (Sell).
    After this movement, from 1988-1989, riots, protests, demonstrations and terrorism ensued. Protests such as the Yogurt revolution in Vojvodina, in which 150,000 people came to protest against the Vojvodinian government, the Usce rally in Belgrade, which some say up to a million people took part in, and demonstrations in Montenegro all lent a hand in the sowing of hate between these ethnic groups (Ramet). Meanwhile, Azem Vllasi's government in Kosovo was overthrown in the anti-bureaucratic revolution, after standing up to constitutional amendments proposed by Milos̆ević to decrease Kosovo's autonomy from the central Serbian government (Judah). Suspicion, rumors and demagoguery all took center stage as competing power interests were paranoid of the other's intent. This growing environment of hysteria eventually led to one of the bloodiest wars Europe had seen in centuries- the Yugoslav wars.
    The collapse of communism and the rise of competing nationalist movements, particularly in the regions of Serbia and Croatia, was the beginning of the end for the federation of Yugoslavia. After Milosevic's anti bureaucratic revolution, toppling of Kosovo's government, and propaganda techniques, Croatia responded like wise, electing the nationalist candidate in the 1990 election, Franjo Tuđman (Lampe). He, like Josip Broz Tito, was a part of the Partisans during World War II (Djilas). His dream of an independent Croatia came as the threat from Serbia under Milos̆ević hung over the region. It was a year after his election in 1991 that Croatia declared itself an independent state (Silber).
    The memory of Croatia under the Ustaše organization haunted many Serbs in Croatia, and led to widespread dissent against the ruling government under Franjo Tudman. The nationalist was equated with that of Ante Pavelić, the Ustaše leader turned President of Croatia who committed genocide with the backing of Hitler's Germany against Jews, Gypsies and Serbs during World War II (Bjelajac).
    It was in the Croatian city of Knin, where local police forces, a majority Serbian, outright denied the rule of the new President, claiming his rule would bring back the methods used by the Croatians who were supported by the Nazis during World War II under the banner of nationalism (Bjelajac). Milan Martic, the police inspector at the time, was quoted as saying "We, the Serb police in Croatia, were left in no doubt, we would have to wear the same badges and uniforms worn by Croat wartime fascists" (Silber).
    Franjo Tudman sent police forces to quell the upheaval. Mayor of Knin, Milan Babić, set up a reception for the delegation (Bjelajac). The talks were unproductive, as thousands of Serbs mobbed the streets outside the police station, chanting and protesting Croat authorities in their town (Silber). No agreement was made and Croat forces left without incident, but also without compromise. The city of Knin remained a Serbian stronghold for years until Croatian forces in 1995 captured the city (Mojzes).
    Meanwhile, the government in Belgrade was not only supporting the Serbian defiance in Knin, they even provided them support and logistics, directing how to run their rebellion against what they called the "Fascist Croats" (Bjelajac). The Yugoslav army in 1991, under orders from the then Serbian controlled government, gave weapons and strategy advice to the rebelling Serbs (Bjelajac). With that, the Serbs began their revolt, setting up blockades across Croatia, mostly around the area of Knin, in Serbian dominated territory (Sudetic).
    The Yugoslav army, which was supposed to represent and defend the country of Yugoslavia as a whole from outside threats, was now one sidedly against Croats in their attempts to defuse the uprising. Weapon deals with neighboring Hungary provided the Croatian government with arms that they could find nowhere else, seeing that the Yugoslav army would not help them in their plight.
    The perception of each party involved in this conflict are tinted in many different ways. To the Yugoslav army, the smuggling of weapons by the Croatian government was a direct act of rebellion against the state. The Serb's desire for independence in Knin from Croatian rule was merely an altruistic call for democracy and freedom from oppressive Croatian rule. Meanwhile, the Croatian army saw the revolt in Knin as an act of rebellion against its state and threatened their autonomy over the region. The Yugoslav army's denial of support and weapons proved the army was not on the side of the Croats, but instead the Serbian government under Serb nationalist Slobodan Milos̆ević. To top this, the Yugoslav army was not only doing nothing to help, but was actually providing weapons and support to what the Croats saw as Serbian terrorists seeking to overthrow the democratically elected Croatian government and install a puppet government controlled from Belgrade.
    In 1991, an attempt by the Yugoslav army to demand Croatia surrender any and all illegal weapons obtained and smuggled into the country prompted armed incidents to break out within the country between Serbs and Croatian police forces (Engelberg). Hundreds of explosives were used and dozens of attacks were made against the Croat police as Serbs fought against what they saw as oppression. The Serbs within Croatia started a secession movement, claiming Serb dominated territory within Croatian towns as under rule from Belgrade, not Croatia (Sudetic). This prompted Tudjman's government to increase the number of special police forces, eventually naming the force the "National Guard" (Magaš). This was the first opposition military to the Yugoslav army to be created.
    In May of 1991, by a 94% in favor ruling, a referendum was passed by the Croatian government to declare independence from Yugoslavia (Magaš). Shelling from the Yugoslav People's Army began, killing thousands, displacing hundreds of thousands, and decimating Croatian territory (Magaš). The army at the start of the war claimed stake in about 1/3 of the country, in mostly Serb populated areas like Knin (Magaš). The military forced thousands to evacuate their homes and thousands of more were killed in this process (Mojzes). Meanwhile the United Nations imposed a weapons embargo, which effected the Croatian military's ability to gather weapons, forcing them to resort to illegal means to obtain arms (Cuelmans).
    War crimes were committed sporadically by both sides during the conflict. One such incident, the Vukovar massacre, was perpetrated by the Yugoslav army against Croat prisoner's of war and civilians (Mojzes). A group of roughly 300 people were murdered by Serb forces after those captured were brought to a hospital near the city of Vukovar (Mojzes). This is just one of a string of examples of the atrocities committed during the wars that still haunt the region today.
    Across the border, the Slovenian government in the north also passed a referendum on independence in June of 1991 (Lampe). The Ten Day War as it came to be known was enacted by the Yugoslav People's Army against the Slovenian Territorial Defence. The war which had limited casualties officially ended on July 7 after the Brioni Accord, signed with Croatia and Serbia, officially agreed to under certain conditions (Lampe). A moratorium on independence would postpone official autonomy for three months.
    Due to Slovenia's relatively homogeneous society, opposition to its independence was limited by minority groups. It wasn't long before fighting started up again in Croatia due to it's large and active Serbian minority. A history of violent relations between the two groups did not do much except to exacerbate the problem.
    In the south, a territorial dispute in Bosnia-Herzegovina eventually became intertwinted with the war between Croatia and Serbia. This proxy war between Croats and Serbs, mixed with the fight between Bosnians and the Yugoslav army, degenerated into a full scale massacre of thousands. Most of the war crimes committed happened in the region of Bosnia-Herzegovina.
    It was the Bosnian's referendum on independence in 1992 that ignited the conflict (Lampe). Much like the vote for independence in Croatia, a huge majority voted in favor, 99% to be exact (Nohlen). Also, like the war in Croatia, Serb populated areas sought help from the government in Belgrade and they too claimed independence for themselves from the ruling government in Bosnia.
    Radovan Karadzic, a Serbian ultra nationalist, led the Siege of Sarajevo against the Bosnian capital, lasting over 4 years, the longest of any such siege on a capital city in history (Mojzes). It's estimated that over 8,000 soldiers killed (Mojzes). This number is shadowed by the overwhelming number of civilians killed relative to military casualties; nearly 12,000 civilians, 1,500 of which were children and an additional 56,000 civilians were wounded (Mojzes).
    Karadzic is also blamed for the systematic form of ethnic cleansing against the Bosnian population, which involved massacring, raping, and forcibly removing thousands from their homes. "Rape Camps" were set up in Bosnia, meant to genetically neutralize the Bosnian population by replacing any Bosnian lineage with Serbian ethnicity by impregnating the victim (Mojzes). Women and children were sent to these camps where the mothers were raped and most of the children were killed (Mojzes). According to the Tresnjevka Women's Group, almost 35,000 women and children were detained and tortured in these Serbian "rape camps". This figure also doesn't factor in those who were not sent to these camps but were merely victims of rape during the course of the war. Estimates are not precise, but many believe the number is as high as 50,000 women (Mojzes). Many of these rapes happened in the public domain by gangs of men, meant to terrify the surrounding community (Mojzes). It was this tactic of psychological warfare that was by far the most damaging of all.
    In the formerly autonomous region of Kosovo, oppression from the government in Belgrade took hold. Large numbers of Kosovo Albanians were fired from public institutions, such as hospitals, schools, and banks (Judah). The restriction on education for the Albanian population in the Albanian language was imposed and many local governments were replaced with Serbian officials (Judah).
    Demonstrations and protests were suppressed with force by the Yugoslav Army. It was the Kosovo Liberation Army in 1996 that prompted a counter insurgency against the ruling government from Belgrade (Judah). Conflict broke out between the Kosovo Liberation Army and Serbian military forces in 1998, becoming a full scale war in 1999 (Judah). After a round of talks called the Rombouillet talks failed between the warring factions, an intervention by NATO and the United Nations prevented the war from escalating further, with the bombing of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia in 1999 (Judah). Kosovo was later placed under the United Nations Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo (Judah).
    The damage and suffering incurred during these wars on these psyche of this country's people is almost irreversible. A decade of war between Serbians, Croats, Bosnians, Albanians, Slovenes, Montenegrins and others involved left an incalculable toll in it's wake. The number of casualties which really depend on who you are asking, are as follows. The Ten Day War in Slovenia left a few hundred killed (Švajncer). The Croatian war of independence which lasted for almost 5 years and ended with the Erdut agreement in 1995, up to 15,000 were killed, 40,000 wounded, while hundreds of thousands were displaced (Magaš). The Bosnian war, which last 4 years and ended with the Dayton Accords, left at least 100,000 people killed and over 2 million displaced, a majority of these casualties the Bosnian civilian population (Magaš). The Kosovo War, lasting for a little over a year and ending with the intervention by NATO and an interim government controlled by the U.N., left up to 10,000 dead, including NATO troops (Judah). All of these figures can not be a hundred percent verified due to the chaos of the war, but these figures are the closest anyone can come to a rational figure.
    Many figures involved with the wars were later caught and tried by the International Criminal Court. The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, which was set up in the wake of the atrocities, has issued warrants for 161 individuals, ranging from soldiers, to generals, to Presidents (Mojzes). Radovan Karadzic, the Serbian ultra nationalist, was arrested in Belgrade in July of 2008 for his participation and direct orders during the mass ethnic cleansing in Bosnia (Mojzes). He is currently in the custody of the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (Mojzes). Others who were indicted include Milan Babic, former mayor of Knin, Commander of the Bosnian Serb Army Ratko Mladic, the General of the Croatian Army Ante Gotovina (Mojzes).
    Slobodan Milos̆ević was the first sitting head of state to be indicted for war crimes when the warrant was issued during the 1999 bombing campaign of Yugoslavia (Sadat). After Milos̆ević lost the September 2000 election in Serbia, he was arrested on charges of corruption,  abuse of power by the Yugoslav authorities in 2001 (BBC). He was later sent to the Hague by Serbian Prime Minister Zoran Dindic to face the charges of war crimes (Sell). Milos̆ević defended himself in his five year long trial until his death in his prison cell in 2006 from a heart attack (Simons).
    Today the 6 regions brought together under the former Yugoslavia stand as independent nations. Its violent path towards autonomy and self independence has shaped the political conscious of millions across the region and still echoes in the voices of their politicians. Despite the armistice between the countries, conflicts have moved from arms to words.
    Kosovo, which officially declared it's independence in 2008, still quarrels with Serbia over it's northern region, where there is a large Serbian minority that is ruled under the Republic of Serbia. Serbia to this day still does not recognize the succession of Kosovo.
    Croatia has moved on and has become a relatively successful country in the face of adversity. It remains today as one of the most popular tourist destinations, being placed 18th as the most visited country in the world (UNTWO). Its spectacular coastline and historical monuments attract millions each year. Its tourism industry grows with each season (UNTWO).
    Bosnia Herzegovina, much like Croatia, has a growing tourism industry, and is working towards economic and political progress. As a candidate of the European Union and NATO, strides have been made in it's attempt to separate itself from it's bloody past.
    Slovenia as well has moved on and joined the European Union and NATO in 2004, becoming the first former communist country to enter the Euro Zone in 2007 (Eurozine). In 2010 Slovenia was also inducted into the OECD (OECD).
    Montenegro is a member of the World Trade Organization, OECD, The Council of Europe and is a founding member of the Union for the Mediterranean (UFM). The Union for the Mediterranean also includes Bosnia Herzegovina and Croatia (UFM). The country remains a potential candidate for EU and NATO membership (Europa).
    Despite its bickering over its border with Kosovo, Serbia has also moved on economically, becoming a member of the UN, Council of Europe, Partnership for Peace, and OECD (OECD). Serbia also remains a potential candidate for EU membership (Europa).
    With all this being said, the region's current economic progress masks a bloody and violent past. The dissolution of communism and pan nationalism, coupled with ethnic rivalry sparked the bloodiest war in Europe's recent history. The ideological limits of communism could only hold off the people's will and ambition for independence for so long. All it took was the death of a leader, and the rise of a few power hungry nationalists to ignite the region. The civilian casualty rate of this war has scarred the people of these countries and will forever remain in their memories. The injustice and brutalility of this war was something seemingly avoidable, and that may be the largest tragedy of all.
    The people of this region have moved on for the most part. With sporadic comments from politicians and influential leaders, the potential for a restart for this conflict is plausible. It is left to the better judgment of these country's people to determine whether or not ethnic or nationalist pride is worth another bloody war, considering many families still bear the wounds of the last one. These opportunists in the region have only a small following. Only through education of the consequences of war can these people learn to resist such calls for action.
    Ethnic nationalism can be tempered. It is the duty of each and every citizen, every leader and every institituion to re inforce the idea that war brings more consequence than it does benefit. It is the responsibility of the leaders of these countries to not follow in the steps of leaders like Milos̆ević, and instead trail a new path towards reconciliation and cooperation. Without this leadership, the former countries of Yugoslavia may spiral back into war, fighting ancient demons, seeking promised results, only to find their nations more war torn and bitter than before.
   






























Outline


The Yugoslav Wars: Ethnic Tensions Lay Dormant Under Communism

1.     Introduction: Statement of Proposed Question
2.     History: How Yugoslavia Was Formed/Demographics
3.     Yugoslavia Under Communism & Tito
4.     The Death of Tito; It’s Implications and Consequences
5.     The Rise of Ethnic Nationalism/Milosevic’s Leadership
6.     War Erupts; Ethnic Cleansing/Genocide
7.     The Creation of 6 Newly Independent States and the Balkans Today
8.     The Future of the Balkans: Can Ethnic Nationalism Be Tempered?











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<<<<http://www.ufmsecretariat.org/ >>>>
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