July marks the 30th anniversary of Srebrenica’s genocide, in which more than 8,000 men and boys were seen massacre by the Serbian army in Bosnia. But what exactly does the Netherlands commemorate? in Netherlands reviews of the bookGuido Snel argues that the voices of survivors have yet to be heard in the Dutch debate, but their explanations offer a more authentic perspective on genocide than the frequently inaccurate history.
In late 1994, Snel was trained to join Srebrenica’s Dutch peacekeeping forces as an interpreter. He eventually resigned before it was deployed, citing doubts about the role of the United Nations in the war and cynicism they observed among the Dutch troops against the local populations they were assigned to protect. A few months later, they would not be able to stop the Serbian forces in Bosnia capturing the town and killing the thousands of people who had taken shelter in “safe areas” of the United Nations.
The tones Snell encountered during his training became a hallmark of many of the following year’s public debate. It marked the beginning of a one-sided explanation of history referring to “ethnic tribal conflicts” (indicating shared responsibility and reducing the victims to Muslim identity) systematically distorted and marginalized Bosnian perspectives. The “complex, painful and shameful role of the United Nations” was reduced to a “simple tale of goodwill and helplessness.”
According to Snel, the Netherlands failed to acknowledge the “moral truth” of the victims of genocide. He borrows the term from Jean Amery, who demanded the right to fully express his experience as a Holocaust survivor and rebelled against “an inexplicable present in the cold storage of history.” Snel advocates a culture of memory centered around the experiences of survivors, including Emir Suljagić, the author of the mind-shaping works of the testimony of Srebrenica.
The process of fascism
Donald Trump has been routinely referred to as a fascist leader since the start of his second president’s term. What marked the turning point? Is it justified to talk about the return of fascism? Persis Beckeling transforms into the recent works of two philosophers, Alberto Toscano and Brian Masmi, to understand how concepts apply to politics today.
Both authors approach fascism as a process rather than a set of fixed attributes that are constantly changing in response to a particular modern crisis. in Late fascism, Toscano offers “enlightening meta-comments” to existing theories, and his wide range allows him to think beyond Mussolini and Hitler. He reaches further into the emergence of capitalism and builds on the work of radical black thinkers to emphasize the importance of racial ideology. It brings them to him as “as defining fascism as an echo of the left revolution”… it never fully realized.” Bekkering suggests that Trump’s rule can also be understood as a backlash from the “mid-headed left-wing cultural revolution (“wokism”) of the past decade.
Massumi develops his own theory A character of power. Through the prism of Trump’s persona, he analyzes modern fascism as a process that constantly changes influences, ideas, and individuals. His framework helps you think beyond the outdated categories. Trump is not a traditional strong male leader. It balances his strength and weakness that allows for such a strong identification. “Trump’s orange face, his limited vocabulary, his puffiness, as a flawed man, the effect of his personality is even greater than if he were an exemplary, unfallen superhero.” However, Bekkering discovers that Massumi’s “dizziness” and “abstract” philosophy are far too little evidence to explain certain current events.
Beautiful and sad
The Netherlands has one of the oldest euthanasia methods in the world, allowing for medically supported deaths for those experiencing unbearable suffering without any prospect of improvement. Miriam Rush writes that ongoing debate about the limitations of the law can leave behind little room for nuance. Self-selected death can be beautiful and sad at the same time. This is a duality that feels sometimes lost in the polarization between supporters and opponents.
Rush explores this duality across a series of works that deal with the boundaries of life and death, each complicating the idea of euthanasia as “a carefree ending that can be ordered and executed with equally carefree snaps of the finger.” Self-selected death is still preceded by pain and suffering, and demanding and implementing euthanasia has a lot of philosophical weight. The experience of GPs and patients raises complex questions about autonomy, responsibility and duties.
Some people argue that they are in favor of allowing euthanasia in the case of “complete life” and eliminating current health standards. But what constitutes a perfect life? Rather than “a life without parting, a life where suffering is not welcome,” the rash writes. Yet, autonomy that determines the end of one’s life is too often described as a “good and evil” option that reduces pain and suffering.
Rush advocates “reflective autonomy” that takes into account the outcomes and complexity of end-of-life decisions. “To say death is a part of life, instead of opening it, close the conversation. As the word “complete” does.’ She suggests that we have a conversation about death before these complex existential choices are outsourced to the legal standards of algorithms or technocrats. They say, “It requires dialogue and reflection on life and death, not just when the moment is nearby, but when it respects time.
Review by Koba ryckewaert
Source: Eurozine – www.eurozine.com
