I. The Return of the Prophets
The Echo of the Cannonade
When the cannonade fell silent and the smoke cleared, the world saw a victory. Croatia had preserved its borders and secured its independence, achieving the very goals for which its sons had fought. But for those who stood on the fields of that hard-won triumph, the war did not end with the cessation of hostilities. The thunder of artillery was replaced by a deeper, more personal silence, a quiet war of the spirit. The nation, in its moment of catharsis and rebuilding, was left to reckon with a ruined economy, estimated to have lost US$37 billion in infrastructure and output. Yet, this vast, visible damage was only a fraction of the true cost. The far more profound and enduring destruction had taken place within the minds and souls of the warriors who had borne the heaviest burdens. They returned from a brutal conflict marked by ethnic hatred and violence , only to face a new kind of battle, not with an armed enemy but with the ghosts of their past and the indifference of their present.
A Prophet in His Own Land
A powerful paradox lies at the heart of the Croatian veteran's experience: they were heroes one day and, in a tragic reversal, became prophets the next. A prophet, by their very nature, is a figure both revered and rejected, a bearer of uncomfortable truths. The Christian tradition holds that "a prophet is not without honor, save in his own country". The life of Jesus of Nazareth, who could not perform "great miracles in his own land," is an archetype of this profound human tendency. The Croatian veteran, a "warrior of light," is a living testament to this same fate. They returned, carrying the weight of a painful but necessary truth about the war, a truth that society was quick to dismiss. For a brief, shining moment, they were celebrated. But as their immediate sacrifices receded into memory, the veneration faded "quickly"
This phenomenon is not unique to Croatia; it is a recurring motif in the annals of warfare. Following World War I, African American soldiers returned to the United States to face a country that continued to practice lynching, racial segregation, and brutal systemic disenfranchisement. The acclaimed writer W.E.B. Du Bois captured this sentiment in his famous editorial, "Returning Soldiers," declaring: "We return. We return from fighting. We return fighting. Make way for Democracy! We saved it in France, and by the Great Jehovah, we will save it in the United States of America or know the reason". The parallel with the Croatian veteran is palpable. Both groups returned from a war for democracy and freedom to find a society that was unprepared to extend those very principles to them. In Croatia, the public's initial gratitude was soon replaced by resentment. The veterans, who had justly earned their rights and benefits, were swiftly condemned for possessing them. This criticism was not just an attack on their entitlements; it was a deeply rooted societal rejection of the human cost of the conflict. By casting the veterans as “entitled” or "privileged," society could shift the moral responsibility from its collective shoulders onto the individuals who bore the scars. It was an act of societal self-purification, where the hero became a scapegoat for the uncomfortable moral ambiguity of the very victory he had secured. The prophet was now a mockery in his own land.
Drawing: Jesus in his hometown where he is criticized
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