November. As the fog envelops the lowlands and fallen leaves rustle underfoot, Croatia does not merely transition into a new season; it descends into a sacred month of remembrance and piety. This is more than a simple shift in the calendar; it is a deeply embedded, neuralgic point in the collective soul, a place where the tragedy of 1991 reached its zenith—a breaking point after which nothing was ever the same. In this month, pain is measured in the thousands, and every day carries the crushing weight of the crosses of Vukovar and Škabrnja.
In this very sacred silence—a time when every sound should be reduced to a whisper—we are confronted by a painful, self-evident truth: the organization of cultural events by the Serb minority, especially those whose content is intentionally controversial or dedicated to the ideologues of Greater Serbian policy. Psychologically, collective trauma functions like personal trauma: a specific date becomes a trigger for pain, fear, and defensive reactions. To organize celebrations or tributes to the co-authors of the SANU Memorandum in the month of Vukovar is not merely a lack of elementary tact. It is a calculated and deliberate provocation, consciously veiled under the pretense of "we didn't know."
This is an act of "dancing on the day of someone's death"—a metaphor that perfectly describes this moral dereliction. Paying taxes grants civic rights, but it does not absolve anyone of moral responsibility and a profound sensitivity toward the majority nation with whom they share the same living space. If life in Croatia is to be good, it requires respecting its history, its deepest wounds, and not just its laws. Insisting on provocative content at such a moment points to a subtle war being waged with symbols and emotions. The SANU Memorandum was not just a document; it was a cold, systematic strategy of destabilization, designed to undermine Croatian identity through culture, media, and academic circles. The first step was infiltration into academia, then the media and culture, followed by education, and finally, finance. This strategy is not mere theory but a painful reality.
When we look around, we see that major national television houses like Nova TV and RTL, as well as many Croatian radio stations, are owned or co-owned by entities from Serbia. The same applies to newspapers and online portals. This infiltration into the key informational and cultural arteries of society is clear evidence that the SANU Memorandum plan is being systematically, quietly, yet effectively executed, destabilizing the Croatian space from within. Organizing November events dedicated to one of these ideologues fits perfectly into the logic of the "bull in a china shop"—to provoke a volatile reaction, present oneself as the victim, and thereby destabilize the state once again.
The Chaos of Aggression and State Indecision – The Internal Struggle
The greatest pain, however, lies not only in the provocation itself but in the painful disparity of the Croatian response, which is split between the state and its citizens. Croatia faces not only external influences and minority provocations but also a deep internal problem.
A strong Marxist, communist, and socialist current in Croatia has never truly gotten over the loss of Yugoslavia. For these actors, Croatia seems to be the only place where they can prosper and achieve their goals, utilizing it like a parasite on a host's body, as their narrative is irrelevant outside of these borders. Hence, the contempt for everything that is authentic and Croatian. While on one side we have political input from Serbia, which never reconciled with the loss of territory it considered its own, on the other, we have disarray within our own ranks. These actors, through political action, systematically strive to return Partisan names to the streets of Zagreb, and public discourse often relativizes the Homeland War, declaring it "exaggerated" or a "civil war." The equalization of victims, putting an equal sign between the aggressor and the defenders, has become commonplace. This narrative has not ceased for thirty years, resulting in constant incidents on the verge of conflict. This is precisely what creates the impression that provocation in November, the month of deep mourning, is deliberate, relying on a volatile reaction.
The state must establish a clearer starting point than it has thus far, by enacting a more precise law or resolution regarding the month of remembrance, which would fill the current legal and moral vacuum. The imposed "heavy liberalism" that the state grudgingly tolerates for the sake of domestic peace—where political pacifists craving career advancement (not good morals, against which I have absolutely nothing) erase borders and where everyone supposedly "can do anything"—is, in fact, an invitation to anarchy.
This vacuum compels individual patriots to feel forced to take justice into their own hands to restore balance. These are often veterans and/or sports fans, as they have no issue with publicly stating their position (and I thank them for that). When state policy becomes ill-defined, order is lost and the tyranny of chaos sets in. I envy Trump, despite the irritating arrogance of a figure born with a silver spoon, because it stems from a yearning for strength and the ability to clearly state one's mind. The Croatian response occasionally suffers from a lack of resolve, though much is being resolved through the Prime Minister's shrewd diplomacy. Perhaps I advocate for a decisive pounding of the fist on the table to finally settle the story of who attacked whom. While initial suppressive actions may be taken, public reactions often become problematic. The Church, on the other hand, is like a sleeping giant, with only a few priests reacting in time. Swiftness and agility in conflict resolution should become a priority, with scenarios and solutions already prepared. It doesn't take much foresight to know that something will erupt before every important national holiday. Yet, the only outcome has been the arrest of Croatian protestors without sanctioning the organizers of the controversial event. The media is gloating. Just wait a minute!
And then comes the painful moment of auto-sabotage. The Croat, deeply rooted in Christian ethics, reacts with unnecessary aggression instead of wisdom. When a provocation is met with a shout—which might pass in most cases but is counterproductive here—the act is self-destructive. In that moment, the public focus is irrevocably shifted from the provocateur to the reaction, turning the provocateur into the victim, and the Croat into the aggressor. The public only hears the echo of the outcry, not the substance of the objection. This is a defeat of wisdom. Spiritual strength is required, not raw aggression. Martin Luther King Jr. taught us that darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. The Croat must respond with the logic of ethics and non-violent moral courage. Kneeling and praying in front of the event location would hold incomparably greater moral weight than any aggressive outburst or public prayer on a Saturday.
Albert Camus distinguished between crimes of passion and crimes of logic. The provocation in November is a "crime of logic"—a systematic strategy. The aggressive reaction is a "crime of passion." Croatia must answer the crime of logic with the logic of law and ethics.
A Call for Respecting the Room
The essence of this conflict is contained in a simple, yet powerful analogy from a night blues club in Harlem I once visited. There is a message there for white people: "Brother, respect the room." Understand that the blues is not music for dancing and joy, but the cry of an enslaved people, a melody of sorrow and sacrifice. Whoever understands this sits quietly, empathizes, and feels responsible. Then, the performer, dark as Wesley Snipes (they say he's darker than any black man), approaches and says: "Thank you for coming and respecting our tragedy." A dialogue and a contest of who can praise and thank the other more has begun.
This is the solution: Respect the room, and you will have cooperation, not resistance. After all, everyone shares the same space they must inhabit. Isn't peace better?
November in Croatia is a room for mourning, not for ideological provocation. The Serb community is free to celebrate its identity in any other month. But above all, Croats must break the eternal cycle. They must not fall for the initial trap. Instead of an aggressive outburst, they should organize a protest in front of the Parliament, demanding a change in the law. By changing the law, the state assumes responsibility and strips the provocateur of their argument. Wisdom overcomes force—that is the only way out of the labyrinth of memory and provocation.
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