Bušićevo iskustvo s poznatim američkim zatvorenikom Jackom Abbottom: Njegovo mišljenje o Hrvatima vrlo me iznenadilo, da ne kažem šokiralo!

Zvonko Bušić vjerovao je kako dobre stvari trebaju biti dostupne svima. Ono za što je živio, radio i vjerovao, za što je podnio žrtvu, objavljeno je u knjizi “Zdravo oko”, koja je dostupna na Amazonu. pod nazivom “All Visible Things”. Poglavlje po poglavlje, kap krvi po kap krvi i život dan po dan objavljujemo svaka dva tjedna u 33 dijela – samo s jednim ciljem! Trajat će!

Tragični antijunak našeg doba

Pišući autobiografiju, čovjek uočava da je on samo taj koji piše, ali da je autora zapravo više. Za neke od njih zna od početka, to su svi oni koji su na njega formativno utjecali, od vlastitih roditelja, prijatelja i znanaca do brojnih mislilaca i pisaca, no postoje i oni koje otkriva naknadno, ponekad slučajno.

Kad sam taman bio negdje na polovice ove knjige, naišao sam na članak koji je novinar Darko Hudelist ranije objavio u Globusu, zanimljiv prilog temeljen na istraživanjima Arhiva Predsjedništva SFRJ iz 1976. godine. Iz tih zabilješki razvidno je da je politički vrh tadašnje države pridavao puno veću pozornost otmici i da je bio puno uznemireniji zbog toga događaja nego se to dosad mislilo. Paranoja među tadašnjim vlastodršcima bila je tolika da su izravno optuživali dio američkog političkog establišmenta da stoji iza hrvatskih „terorista“. Posebno su bili kivni na Henryja Kissingera i Lawrencea Silbermana, tadašnjega američkoga veleposlanika u Jugoslaviji.

Gledajući te stvari s vremenskoga odmaka, s priličnom sigurnošću mogu reći da me ta „paranoja“ lako mogla stajati glave, osobito prvih godina zatočeništva, a svakako je doprinijela da u zatvoru provedem toliko dugo vremena. Jednostavno, u glavama tadašnjih jugoslavenskih vlasti predstavljao sam puno veću opasnost no što sam to stvarno bio, jer su me uklapali u kontekst nekakve svjetske zavjere protiv Jugoslavije. Strah tadašnjega jugoslavenskog političkog vrha pokazivao je koliko su i oni sami bili svjesni svoga uzurpatorskoga položaja, otkrivao je zločinačku narav tih uzurpatora koji su kriminalnim metodama došli na vlast i kriminalnim se metodama na vlasti održavali.

Sjedili su na poklopcu lonca u kojem su ključala zatomljena nezadovoljstva naroda od kojih je bila sastavljena nakaradna država, svjesni da će pritisak iz lonca kad-tad izbaciti poklopac i one koji na njemu sjede. Ipak, zloćudnu energiju takvih paranoja ne treba podcjenjivati. Zahvaljujući njoj jugokomunisti su se tako dugo i održali na vlasti, unatoč činjenici da njihovim načinom vladanja nisu bili zadovoljni ni povlašteni Srbi ni njihova desna ruka Slovenci, a kamoli potlačeni Hrvati i Albanci.

Države gotovo nužno moraju imati poneku paranoičnu crtu u svojoj političkoj filozofiji, ako žele uspješno funkcionirati u stvarnom svijetu. Hrvati u svojoj slavenskoj i katoličkoj blagosti i prostodušnosti to kao da ne shvaćaju. Oni uglavnom djetinjasto i naivno vjeruju u iskonsku dobrotu i pravednost svijeta i drugih država, i to unatoč poukama iz vlastite povijesti. Zato i danas kada imamo vlastitu državu uglavnom loše prolazimo u odnosima s međunarodnom zajednicom i drugim državama. Doduše, uzrok tomu često je nedostatan patriotizam naših elita, koje su najvećim dijelom proistekle upravo iz onoga okružja koje je strastveno i paranoično čuvalo Jugoslaviju.

Tako naše životopise djelomično pišu i oni koje nikada nismo osobno upoznali, ali oni iz nekih svojih razloga utječu na našu sudbinu. Ne mislim pri tome na općepoznatu činjenicu da na čovjeka utječu njemu bliski ljudi, pa i oni koji su mu stjecajem okolnosti samo usputni znanci, nego na to da uvijek postoje neki tajni odjeli gdje neki neznanci vrlo ozbiljno razmatraju i najbanalnije činjenice iz nečijega života, neke tajne police s našim dosjeima, neki tajni planovi o kojima ništa ne znamo, a izravno zadiru i u naše živote. I nije to samo slučaj u bivšim totalitarnim nego i u takozvanim demokratskim sustavima.

Što stjecajem okolnosti, što vlastitim izborom, proživio sam buran i naporan život, upoznao dosta ljudi i zemalja, pročitao mnogo knjiga, razgovarao s ljudima vrlo različitih životnih iskustava, i, čini mi se, znam nešto o životu. Život pojedinca, ma koliko bio zanimljiv i veličanstven, utkan je u život zajednice, naroda, izvan toga može biti samo kuriozitet, zanimljivost bez dubljega smisla, a život je naroda utkan u povijest svijeta. I svim tim životima, pojedinačnim, narodnim, globalnim, upravljaju sile koje pojedinci razabiru iznimno rijetko, i u tim rijetkim slučajevima mutno i nedostatno. Narodi kroz umove i djelovanje sposobnih elita rijetko, a samo globalni igrači, upravljači iz sjene, gotovo uvijek imaju uvid u stvarno stanje stvari.

Međutim, ni oni nisu same te „sile“, oni su tek njihovo fizičko, ljudsko ozbiljenje. Zato držim da svi teoretičari urota čine jednu fundamentalnu pogrešku – poistovjećuju pojedine ljude sa silama povijesti koje te ljude nadilaze. Priznajem da je moje poimanje povijesnih tijekova blisko Spenglerovom organicističkom poimanju razvoja, procvata i propadanja kultura, i da ljudskom poviješću ravnaju dva suprotstavljena načela, dvije suprotstavljene sile – snage krvi i snage novca. Činjenica je, međutim, da upravo ideja novca, apstraktne mjere za nemjerljive stvari, upravlja svime, pa i onima koji upravljaju njime. Ništa toliko razorno ne djeluje na svijet, naročito na organski svijet koliko novac.

S druge strane gotovo nijedan ljudski izum nije toliko učinkovit i toliko važan za sveukupni napredak civilizacije koliko novac. Kao i mnogim drugim stvarima i pojavama na ovom svijetu, novcu je svojstveno to paradoksalno dvojstvo. Ljudska društva imaju koristi od novca sve do onoga trenutka dok njegova vrijednost ima odgovarajuće uporište u stvarnom svijetu. To su nekada bile tzv. zlatne rezerve, no novac počinje pogubno djelovati na društvo kada ta uporišta odbace i proglase nepotrebnima. Živimo upravo u takvom vremenu u kojemu novac, virtualni zapis bez temelja u stvarnome svijetu, svojom zastrašujućom moći kompromitira sve one vrijednosti koje na prirodan način nastaju u okrilju organskih zajednica.

Svoj sam život posvetio borbi za hrvatsko pravo na slobodnu, samostalnu i prosperitetnu državu. Ako je u toj borbi bilo i avanturističkih motiva, mladalačke žeđi za pustolovinom, a vjerojatno jest, taj sam grijeh okajao i zatvorom i drugim životnim nedaćama. Ipak, danas kada imamo hrvatsku državu, sve više uviđam da je ta borba bila samo dio jedne znatno šire i sudbonosnije borbe – otpora snaga krvi nezajažljivoj, destruktivnoj moći snaga novca.

U zatvoru, gdje je utjecaj novca ipak mnogo manji nego na slobodi, možda se bolje nego na slobodi raspoznaju obrasci po kojima svijet prirodno funkcionira. Recimo, rasno pitanje. Vlada stroga rasna podjela, crnci i bijelci u zatvoru žive jedni do drugih, ali u zasebnim svjetovima, Hispanoamerikanci također, Indijanci isto. Zanimljivo je da se čak i homoseksualci drže svoje rasne skupine. Sjećam se jednoga tragičnog slučaja kada je ta granica na neki način prekoračena. Protagoniste te priče nazvat ću Jack i Jim, budući da njihov identitet čitateljima ionako nije bitan. Jack je bio nešto stariji od Jima, po seksualnim sklonostima homoseksualac. U zatvorskim uvjetima koji su kudikamo drukčiji od uvjeta u vanjskom svijetu, pogotovo za mladiće koji nemaju pristup djevojkama, uspjelo mu je nagovoriti mlađega i neiskusnijeg Jima na homoseksualni odnos, premda Jim nije nikada imao takvih sklonosti.

Kada je Jack odslužio kaznu i izašao iz zatvora, Jim se oslobodio njegova utjecaja, sazrio, otkrio vjeru i oprostio se s homoseksualnom fazom svog života. Međutim, Jack se nije snašao na slobodi. Istina, našao je posao, oženio se, pokušao živjeti normalnim građanskim životom, ali nije išlo, nije bio sretan. Očito da njegova veza s Jimom nije bila samo seksualne, nego i dublje emotivne prirode. Nakon određenog vremena život na slobodi postao mu je neizdrživ, odlučio se vratiti u zatvor, k svom ljubavniku kojega nije mogao zaboraviti. Opljačkao je banku samo da bi se vratio u zatvor! No u zatvoru stvari nisu tekle onako kako je zamišljao. Jim nije htio pristati na obnovu njihove veze. Štoviše, na njegove izjave ljubavi odgovorio mu je gađenjem i zabranio mu da mu se približava. Očajan što se našao u tako apsurdnoj situaciji, to jest što je mijenjao slobodu za blizinu bivšeg ljubavnika koji ga više nije prihvaćao, Jack je potonuo još niže.

Počeo se opijati i drogirati, ponašati se kao muška prostitutka, a prešao je i onu granicu koje su se u zatvoru i homoseksualci pridržavali. Počeo se družiti s crncima. Mislio je da će, ako se bude podavao crncima, Jima učiniti ljubomornim. Jednostavno nije shvaćao da je Jim odbacio homoseksualnost. Na vlastitu nesreću, uspio je izazvati napad ljubomore, ali ne kod Jima, nego kod svog crnog ljubavnika. Za jedne šetnje dvorištem ovaj ga je usmrtio s pedeset i šest uboda nožem, kako su to kasnije liječnici pedantno izbrojili prilikom obdukcije. Bila je to prilično mučna scena i najokorjelijim zatvorenicima. Dok ga je raspamećeni crni ljubavnik ubadao nožem, Jack je vrištao da ga voli.

Druga zgoda koje se prisjećam puno je vedrija, ali svejedno govori kako su sladunjave tlapnje o multikulturalnom društvu ipak samo tlapnje. Televizija je prenosila meč između Amerikanke Serene Williams i Ruskinje Marije Šarapove. U strožim zatvorima za sve rasne skupine obvezno postoje posebne prostorije za gledanje televiziju. Gledajući kako bijelci u svojoj TV prostoriji zdušno navijaju za Ruskinju Šarapovu, nisam mogao odoljeti da ih ne priupitam kako to da oni, listom Amerikanci, navijaju za Ruskinju, a protiv rođene Amerikanke!? Naravno, razlog takvom ponašanju bila je činjenica da je Serena Wiliams crnoputa, a Marija Šarapova bijela, ništa drugo.

Lako je narugati se takvom ponašanju, no teže ga je razumjeti i objasniti u svjetlu suvremene dogme o jednakosti svih ljudi i političke korektnosti. Mislim da je takvo ponašanje normalno, samorazumljivo, nagonsko, nalazimo ga svugdje u prirodi i u gotovo svim dosad poznatim civilizacijama. Ljudi mogu biti jednaki samo iz Božje perspektive, kao Božja stvorenja, djeca Božja, no iz ovozemaljske perspektive, iz perspektive borbe za opstanak i nadmoć, svaka ptica svome jatu leti. I to ne zato što bi bila rođeni „rasist“, zato što mrzi druga jata, nego zato što se u svom jatu osjeća sigurnije. To je jednostavna biološka činjenica, s kojom suvremeni humanisti, istodobno sljedbenici i Darwina i Francuske revolucije, nikako ne uspijevaju izaći na kraj.

Istina, postoji rješenje te naoko nerješive jednadžbe, ali od njega suvremeni humanisti bježe kao vrag od tamjana. Rješenje je kršćansko učenje, koje ljudsko dostojanstvo, a time i jednakost u dostojanstvu, temelji na činjenici da su svi ljudi, bez obzira na etničku pripadnost ili boju kože, djeca Božja. Upravo tom učenju možemo zahvaliti napredak demokracije, ljudskih prava i sloboda. Međutim, svako učenje, pa tako i kršćansko, samo po sebi je hladno i neobvezujuće ako ga ne prati vjera.

Stoga je naivna vjera takozvanih suvremenih humanista da će upravo kroz eliminaciju kršćanstva iz naše civilizacije postići konačno ljudsko oslobođenje, sveopću pravdu i jednakost među ljudima. Upravo suprotno, tako se naša civilizacija može samo strovaliti u najcrnje barbarstvo, ropstvo, u kojemu caruju praznovjerje, izopačenost i nejednakost. Doduše, oni najupućeniji među tim „humanistima“ dobro znaju što rade i kamo sve to vodi, ali velika većina zaluđenih pojma nemaju da sustavno rade u korist vlastite štete. Jer rade protiv ljudske prirode i ljudskoga dostojanstva. Brisanjem jednog po jednog sloja pripadnosti kulturi, vjeri, naciji, a na red je već došla i obitelj, čovjeka se obezosobljuje. Od njega ostaje samo prazna ljuštura koju manipulatori pune sadržajem po potrebi.

Potreba za pripadanjem najdublja je ljudska potreba i onaj tko je negira ili manipulira njome, ljudima čini zlo. Da je tomu tako, uvjerio sam se bezbroj puta u životu. To potvrđuju čak i moja zatvorska iskustva. Jedno od takvih iskustava bilo je i poznanstvo s Jackom Henryjem Abbotom, inteligentnim i nadarenim, no duboko nesretnim i u sebi podijeljenim čovjekom.

Nakon dvomjesečnog napornog putovanja preko cijele Amerike u zatvorskim autobusima, od Atlantika do Pacifika, stigao sam u jedno malo mjesto Lompoc u Kaliforniji, smješteno u brdima 20-ak kilometara od oceana i stotinjak kilometara sjeverno od Los Angelesa. Istoimeni zatvor sagrađen je nekoliko kilometara od gradića i prvo što sam zapazio je da nije, kao zatvor u Atlanti, opasan 12 metara visokim zidom nego dvostrukim žičanim ogradama iza kojih su se prijeteći izdizale tridesetak metara visoke i strateški raspoređene puškarnice. Čim sam izašao iz autobus osjetio sam čistoću zraka i ugodnu kalifornijsku klimu. Dok je popodnevno sunce sijalo na vedrome nebu, kada sam sljedećega dana bez lisica na nogama i rukama, i bez ikakvih lanaca slobodno šetao zatvorskim dvorištem, osjećao sam veliko zadovoljstvo. Ne samo da je mučno putovanje iza mene, nego mi se ovaj zatvor u usporedbi s onim u Atlanti činio daleko podnošljivijim.

Inače zatvor je sagrađen za vrijeme Drugoga svjetskog rata, nakon što su Japanci bombardirali Pearl Harbor i u njemu su preventivno bili zatočeni američki građani japanskoga porijekla, a desetak kilometara od zatvora nalazila se najveća američka vojna zrakoplovna baza – Vandenberg. Dolazak u novi zatvor je kao preseljenje u neko novo mjesto, drugi grad. Za mene je zatvor u Lompocu bio ne samo novi i nepoznati grad, nego od tisuću i sedamsto njegovih stanovnika ja nikoga nisam poznavao, a s obzirom na to da je naš slučaj kroz sve tiskane i elektronske medije bio razglašen, mnogi su zatvorenici o tome čitali i slušali pa su me sada htjeli bolje upoznati i više doznati.

Jedan od njih, Jack Henry Abbott, koji je stanovao u bloku gdje su mene smjestili posebno se zanimao za naš slučaj. Bio je nižeg rasta i vrlo žilav, klupko živaca, uvijek napet, emocionalno je i strastveno iznosio svoja uvjerenja koja je stjecao čitajući knjige, a bilo je očito da je puno čitao. Nakon prvog razgovora bilo mi je jasno da je Jack fanatični marksist i da mu je komunistički manifest „sveto pismo“. Ipak me njegovo mišljenje o Hrvatima vrlo iznenadilo, da ne kažem šokiralo.

Primjerice znao je za Jelačića i da je Marx pisao da Hrvati kao reakcionarni narod moraju nestati, znao je i vjerovao da su Hrvati samo u logoru Jasenovac ubili milijun i šesto tisuća ljudi, žena i djece, uglavnom komunista. Znao je i vjerovao sve što je o kardinalu Stepincu napisao Curzio Malaparte, da je pohvalio Pavelića kada je na njegovom stolu vidio veliku košaru punu ljudskih očiju i da su ustaše živim komunistima vadili oči i pravili ogrlice. Znao je za Bleiburg, ali je držao da su Hrvati dobro prošli u odnosu na ono što su zaslužili.

Svi moji pokušaji da ga razuvjerim, da mu obrazložim kako je nasjeo lažima i izmišljotinama, da je povjerovao dezinformacijama i bezočnim pretjerivanjima ostali su uzaludni, nisam mogao poljuljati njegovo uvjerenje, njegov ego jednostavno nije dopuštao mogućnost zablude. Moram priznati da nikada nisam susreo takvog zelota, čovjeka koji je toliko odan marksizmu i lenjinizmu, koji je s takvim ushićenjem govorio o Trockome, Mao Tse Tungu i Ho Chi Minhom. Jack me na neki čudan način, sa svojom kozjom bradicom i prodornim crnim očima i fizički podsjećao na Lenjina, a kada sam kasnije doznao da je nezakonito dijete američkoga vojnika i kineske prostitutke, stvari su mi bile puno jasnije.

Kada su naše razgovori postali napeti i pretvorili se u prepirke, počeo sam ga izbjegavati što je on doživio kao uvredu i odlučio me napasti na spavanju. Sreća je da sam na ulaz u svoju ćeliju običavao staviti nekakvu stupicu koja me alarmirala kad je jednog jutra Jack pokušao nečujno ući. Kad sam se trgnuo i skočio, on je ustuknuo i zbunjeno dodao da je samo htio vratiti knjigu koju sam mu bio posudio na čitanje. Knjiga mu je doista bila u ruci dok je drugu ruku držao u džepu, i ja sam onako iznenada probuđen i praznih ruku njegovu priču prihvatio, ali u nju nisam povjerovao.

Kakva je to bila žurba vraćati knjigu u šest sati ujutro, odmah nakon što je stražar otključao ćeliju? Nakon tog incidenta bilo mi je potpuno jasno da imam posla s paranoidnim psihopatom. Zamjerao sam sebi što to nisam uvidio ranije i odlučio prema njemu odsada primjenjivati pravilo „svoje prijatelje drži blizu, a svoje neprijatelje drži još bliže”.

Pripovijedao sam Jacku o svojim seljačkim korijenima, o siromašnom djetinjstvu i napornoj mladosti, a on meni o svemu što je morao podnositi po raznim institucijama za reformiranje mladih delinkvenata, te kako je bio silovan i nožem usmrtio svoga silovatelja. Zanimljivo je da se s vremenom doista pojavila neka vrst međusobne empatije, a ni naše tako oprečne političke filozofije nisu nam više toliko smetale.

Dapače, Jack je za moje viđenje stvari pokazivao sada veće zanimanje i razumijevanje, tako da je dopuštao da je priča o košari očiju vjerojatno izmišljena i jasenovačke žrtve preuveličane, ali se nije mogla ublažiti njegova mržnja prema Katoličkoj crkvi, niti poljuljati njegovo uvjerenje da su svi nacionalizmi i patriotizmi šovinistički, da nacije i rase, kao i vjerske institucije, moraju nestati i da je Marxov dijalektički materijalizam jedini spas za čovječanstvo.

Jednom sam bio vrlo iznenađen i zatečen njegovom izjavom koja se uopće nije ticala teme o kojoj smo razgovarali. „Gledaj“, rekao mi je osjećajno i vrlo ozbiljno, „lako je tebi jer znaš gdje i kome pripadaš. Ja sam i nacionalni i rasni i kulturni i vjerski križanac. I komu ja pripadam? Ne pripadam nigdje i nikomu. Možda je to moj problem pa sam odlučio kroz marksizam pripadati cijelome čovječanstvu”.

Dok je to izgovarao lice mu je bilo izobličeno nekom unutarnjom boli i srdžbom dok su mu sada ovlažene crne oči bile još prodornije. Ostao sam bez teksta jer sam osjetio veliku nelagodu i duboku sućut koju mu nisam mogao izraziti riječima. Kasnije sam s njim još pažljivije razgovarao i prema njemu se odnosio kao prema ranjenom tigru. Tada mi je povjerio na čitanje svoje zapise o svemu što je od djetinjstva proživio i preživio po američkim preodgojnim institucijama i zatvorima. To je bila vrlo ljuta, ali impresivno napisana kritika američkoga zatvorskog sustava koju je naslovio U utrobi zvijeri.

Povjerio mi se da je dijelove svoje knjige slao jednome od najpoznatijih američkih autora i dobitniku dviju Pulitzerovih nagrada, Normanu Maileru, i da mu je on obećao da će mu pomoći ne samo objaviti knjigu, nego da će sve učiniti kako bi Jack čim prije izašao iz zatvora. Bilo je to vrijeme kada je američka intelektualna elita bila fascinirana ljevičarskim radikalima i revolucionarima, i javno podržavala njihove terorističke akcije. Za njih su poznati i bogati Amerikanci, posebno iz Hollywooda i New Yorka, kao slavni skladatelj Leonard Bernstein, priređivali koktel zabave i prikupljali novčana sredstva, a mediji su to nazivali sintagmom „radikalni chic“. Tada je to bilo cool.

Nakon što sam pročitao nekoliko Mailerovih pisama koje je on pisao Jacku, gotovo sam bio uvjeren da će tako slavni i u američkom javnom životu toliko utjecajni ljudi naći načina kako Jacka iščupati iz zatvora. Kada sam to rekao Jacku, bilo mu je drago, ali me zaklinjao da o njegovom dopisivanju s Mailerom i izgledima za možebitnu slobodu nikomu ne govorim. Nije prošlo dugo vremena Jack me je iznenadio s jednom novom glupošću, tako da sam mislio da je prokockao šansu za izlazak na slobodu.

Naime, Jack je čistio jednu prostoriju u kojoj je bio automat u kojem se za kovanicu moglo kupiti Coca-Colu. Kada je jedanput izvana došao čovjek napuniti automat pićem i isprazniti novčiće, Jack ga je nekom motkom udario po glavi, onesvijestio ga, opljačkao, sklonio ga među stolce i pozvao stražara da otključa vrata i pusti ga da se vrati u svoje odjeljenje jer je završio posao. Kad je onesviješteni čovjek došao k sebi, pozvao je pomoć i ispričao što mu se dogodilo. Kada su došli uhititi Jacka, tobože je bio iznenađen i negirao da je to napravio, premda je ne samo on jedini tu radio nego mu je zatvorski stražar morao otključati vrata i pustiti ga da izađe, ne znajući da u prostoriji leži onesviješten čovjek. Tada sam Jacka vidio posljednji put jer su ga nakon nekoliko mjeseci samice premjestili u drugi zatvor.

Otprilike godinu i pol dana kasnije bio je već na slobodi. Vidio sam ga u TV-emisiji kako govori o svojoj knjizi koja je upravo bila objavljena. Jack je trenutačno postao zvijezda i pojavljivao se na književnim večerima, davao intervjue za brojne novine, radio i TV-emisije, družio se s onima koji vedre i oblače u američkom književnom, društvenom i medijskom svijetu. Dobitnica Oskara Susan Sarandon toliko mu se divila da je svome sinu dala ime Jack Henry. Njegov je obožavatelj bio i poljski pisac Jerzy Kosinski. Neki su se ponadali da bi čak mogao dobiti ili bar biti nominiran za Nobelovu nagradu! Ne znam koliko je Jack sa svojim sljedećim činom razočarao i šokirao svoje vanjske obožavatelje, ali među zatvorskim poznanicima kružio je komentar – „što ga je uzelo tako dugo“. Zapravo nije ga dugo uzelo.

Samo šest tjedana nakon što je otpušten na uvjetnu slobodu, Jack je, u društvu dviju djevojaka, koje su ako se ne varam nasljednice nižeg europskog plemstva, obilazio barove i restorane u New Yorku. Kad mu u jednom od njih konobar nije htio dati ključ od toaleta, uvjeravajući ga da je taj toalet samo za poslugu, uvrijeđeni mu je Jack predložio da o tome ne govore pred damama, nego da rasprave vani. Kada je naivni konobar za njim izišao vani, Jack je izvadio nož, usmrtio ga i pobjegao. Zbog ključa od toaleta. Stjecajem okolnosti Jackovu knjigu U utrobu zvijeri primio sam baš u vrijeme dok je on bio u bijegu. Moram priznati da sam se cinično nasmiješio kada sam čitao predgovor knjizi u kojem Norman Mailer između ostalog piše: „Iz Abbottovih pisama bilo je očito da se radi o intelektualcu, o radikalcu, o potencijalnom vođi, o čovjeku opsjednutom vizijom o uzvišenijim ljudskim odnosima u jednom boljem svijetu kojeg bi revolucija mogla iznjedriti”.

Koja sličnost sa slavopojkama Lenjinu, Trockom, Titu, revolucionarima iz Crvene armijske frakcije, Crvenih brigada. Cinizam, naravno, nije išao na Abbottov, njega sam iskreno žalio, nego na Mailerov račun. Doduše, ovdje je kralj iznenada ostao gol pa su se njegovi obožavatelji posipali pepelom i priznavali svoju naivnost, tako sam u jednim novinama pročitao jedan o njima vrlo kritičan i nemalo sarkastičan članak. U njemu su bile iznesene činjenice o Abbottu, dostupne i ranije svakome tko se htio za njih interesirati, a Abbott je i sam priznavao da je neuravnotežen i nasilan čovjek.

Činjenice i zaključci koji „samo intelektualcima mogu promaknuti“. Sam Mailer kasnije će u jednom intervjuu priznati da je to bila „jedna epizoda u mome životu u kojoj ja ne mogu pronaći ništa što bi me obradovalo ili čime bih se ponosio, bio je to studij o lažnoj taštini“. Samo što je taj Mailerov studij, životom platio nedužni njujorški konobar.

Nakon što je ubio dvadesetdvogodišnjeg Richarda Arana, Jack je u bijegu bio nešto više od mjesec dana. Uhićen je na spavanju u cijevi za naftu, u Teksasu. Vjerojatno je namjeravao pobjeći preko Meksika prema Južnoj Americi. Kasnije je u zatvoru napisao još jednu knjigu, Moj povratak, ali njome se baš i nije proslavio. Dokoni intelektualci tu su igračku definitivno otpisali. Kada ga ni nakon dvadeset godina nisu htjeli pustiti na uvjetnu slobodu, Jack je 2002. godine počinio samoubojstvo objesivši se o konopac koji je spleo od plahte.

Kada sam u jednim novinama o tome čitao, obuzela me tuga nad tragičnom sudbinom toga čovjeka, i često sam razmišljao što se sve da naučiti na slučaju Jacka Henrya Abbotta. O tome kako sam i ja mogao postati njegova žrtva, zato što je on čitao lažnu propagandu i u nju vjerovao jer se poklapala s njegovom političkom filozofijom. Unatoč svemu, toga čovjeka nisam mogao mrziti, čak smo postali bliski na jednoj ljudskoj, supatničkoj razini. Bio je inteligentan, štoviše nadaren, ali krizu identiteta koja ga je obilježila od samoga rođenja nije uspio prevladati, zato su zatvor i tragičan kraj za njega bili logičan ishod konflikta u njemu samome.

Ogorčenost, ako je u meni ima, osjećam prema onima koji su se iz ugode svoga zaštićenog svijeta s njime se na trenutak poigrali, pa ga zaboravili. Vrativši se u Hrvatsku, još jednom sam se imao priliku uvjeriti se da je kriza identiteta najčešći uzrok krize ne samo pojedinca, nego i cijeloga društva. Hrvatska moje mladosti imala je drukčije probleme, stoga se s njima valjalo boriti na drugačiji način. Ja sam toj borbi doprinosio kako sam znao i umio. U novim uvjetima tražio se novi način borbe i suočio se s „neprijateljem“ kakva dotada nisam poznavao.

Protiv Hrvatske više nije stajala gruba sila i diktatura, nego zavodljivi sirenski zov globalizacije u koji su, naravno, bili ugrađeni i umiveni glasovi starih jugoudbaških struktura. Tom se zovu hrvatski čovjek nije naučen na odgovarajući način oduprijeti jer je predugo bio lišen slobode i mogućnosti da izgradi svoje autentične institucije i svoju autentičnu elitu. Stare strukture, svjedoci smo toga iz dana u dan, ponovno u hrvatskome društvu preuzimaju sve relevantne položaje. Nažalost, ni stanje u svijetu ne ide nam na ruku. Čini mi se da se na globalnoj razini onaj sukob između „snaga krvi“ i „snaga novca“, o kojem sam već govorio, zahuktava i prijeti sveopćim požarom.

U tom predstojećem globalnom sukobu vrlo je važno kako će se Hrvatska postaviti, gdje će se svrstati i tko će je voditi. Osobno samo u Njemačkoj i Rusiji vidim onu snagu koja bi mogla zauzdati „snage novca“, i spriječiti potonuće čovječanstva u novo ropstvo. Velike nade polažem u buduće savezništvo tih dviju velikih nacionalnih država. One bi mogle biti okosnica otpora nesmiljenoj globalizaciji pod vrhovništvom Novca kao jedinoga boga koji suvremeni svijet poznaje i priznaje.

U svijetu u kojemu je u potpunosti zavladalo to božanstvo nestalo bi svako uporište u identitetu, domovini, obitelji. Svi bi ljudi na stanoviti način postali nalik Abbottu, tragičnom junaku našega doba. S tim da bi, kada bi većina postala nalik Abbottu, takav čovjek prestao biti tragičan, no mogla bi se konstatirati tragedija čovječanstva.

Zvonko Bušić

EN

Zvonko believed that good things should be shared with everyone. What he lived, worked for and believed in, what he sacrificed for, is presented in his book “All Visible Things”, which is available on Amazon. Chapter by chapter, drop of blood by drop of blood, and life day by day in 33 parts – with only one goal! He will live on…

A Tragic Anti-Hero of our Time

When a person writes an autobiography, he is always aware that he is only one of many authors. He knows some of them from the very beginning, the ones who influenced his development – parents, friends, acquaintances, as well as thinkers and writers – but there are also those who reveal themselves later through sheer chance.

When I reached the halfway mark of this book, I came across an interesting article Croatian journalist, Darko Hudelist, had written earlier for the weekly magazine Globus, based on research he had done in the 1976 archives of the Presidency of Yugoslavia. From these reports, it is obvious that the top leadership of the former state devoted a lot more attention to the hijacking and was much more upset about it than was previously known.

The paranoia reigning among the former powerholders reached such a level that they directly accused a part of the American political establishment of being “in cahoots with the Croatian ‘terrorists’”. They were especially bitter toward Henry Kissinger and Lawrence Silberman, who was the U.S. Ambassador to Yugoslavia at the time.

In retrospect, I can say with high probability that this paranoia could have cost me my life, especially in the first years of my imprisonment, and that it certainly contributed to the length of my imprisonment. Simply put, in the minds of the former Yugoslav officials, I represented a much greater danger than I was in actuality, because they had placed me in the context of some international conspiracy directed against Yugoslavia. The fear the Yugoslav leadership had then was indicative of how conscious they were that they were usurpers, and that the criminal nature and methods of their actions had brought and maintained them in power.

They were sitting on the lid of a pot simmering with the repressed dissatisfaction of a nation that comprised one of the elements of this grotesque state, and were conscious that the pressure would sooner or later blow off the lid as well as those trying to hold it in place.

The malignant energy of this paranoia should however not be underestimated. After all, it succeeded in keeping the Yugoslav Communists in power for a long time, in spite of the fact that their method of rule did not satisfy even the privileged Serbs or their right hand, or the Slovenians, not to mention the oppressed Croatians and Albanians.

States almost have to have a certain amount of paranoia in their political philosophy if they wish to function successfully in the real world. But Croatians, with their Slavic and Catholic gentleness and humility, seem not to comprehend this. For the most part, they naively believe in the basic goodness and justness of the world and other states, in spite of examples from their own history. This explains why today, even though we have our own state, we tend not to do well in our relations with the international community and other countries. Of course, this is often the result of a lack of patriotism in our political elite, most of whom emerged from the very system and environment that so passionately and paranoically preserved Yugoslavia.

Thus our biographies are partially written by those we have never personally met yet who, for whatever reason, influence our Fate. I am not talking here about the fact that people are influenced by those close to them or by casual acquaintances, but that there are always some secret departments where total strangers scrutinize even the most banal details from one’s life, secret files with our dossiers, then forging secret plans we know nothing about, thereby encroaching directly on our lives. This is not only the case in totalitarian but also in so-called democratic systems.

Both by sheer chance and personal choice, I have lived a stormy and difficult life, gotten to know many people and countries, read many books, talked to people with very different experiences, and it seems to me that I know something about life. The life of an individual, no matter how interesting or great, is woven into the life of the community and nation; outside that, it can only be an interesting curiosity without deeper meaning. But the life of a people is woven into the history of the world. All these lives – individual, national, global – are administered by forces that are seldom discerned by individuals, and when they are, they are given far too little attention.

The people rarely have access to the ideas and actions of the elite; only the global players operating behind the scenes have a constant insight into the real nature of things. But even they are not themselves the actual “forces”, they are just the physical, human incarnations.

That is why I believe that all the conspiracy theorists are committing a fundamental error by equating individual people with the historical forces transcending them. I admit that my views on the course of history are close to Spengler’s organic ideas about the development, rise, and fall of cultures, and the two opposing forces that govern human history: blood and money.

Meanwhile, it is a fact that the idea of money, an abstract measure for unmeasurable things, controls everything, even those that control money. There is nothing in the world that acts as destructively as money, especially in the organic world. On the other hand, no human invention is as effective and significant as money in the overall progress of civilization. As is the case with many other things and events in the world, money has an inherently paradoxical duality. Human society benefits from money as long as its value has a corresponding base in the real world. This was at one time the gold reserves, but money begins to have an adverse effect on society when the base is rejected and declared unnecessary.

We are living in just such times. Money today is virtual, without foundation in the real world, and with its frightening power it compromises all the values that arise naturally within an organic community. I dedicated my life to the struggle for Croatia’s right to freedom, independence, and prosperity. If there were certain adventurist motives, a youthful zest for excitement (and there probably were), I have paid for my transgressions through imprisonment and other life hardships. But today, when we have a Croatian state, I see more and more that this struggle was only part of a much wider and fateful battle – the resistance of blood to the enduring and destructive power of money.

In prison, where the influence of money was a lot weaker than in freedom, it is perhaps easier to discern the patterns by which the world naturally functions. Say, the race issue. In prison, there is a strict racial division: blacks and whites live next to each other but in separate worlds. This applies as well to Hispanics and American Indians. It is interesting that the homosexuals also stick together by race. I recall one instance where this boundary was crossed. I will call the protagonists Jack and Jim, since their identities are irrelevant to the reader.

Jack was somewhat older than Jim, and was by sexual preference a homosexual. In prison conditions, which are sometimes different than those in the outside world, especially for young men who have no access to girls, Jack succeeded in persuading a younger, inexperienced Jim to enter into a homosexual relationship with him, although Jim had never had those tendencies. When Jack finished his sentence and left prison, Jim freed himself of his influence, matured, discovered religion, and said goodbye to the homosexual phase of his life. Meanwhile, Jack was unable to adjust to freedom. He managed to find a job, get married, and tried to live a normal civilian life, but it didn’t work, he wasn’t happy. It became apparent that his relationship with Jim was not just sexual but had had a deeper emotional component. After a certain period, life on the outside became unendurable to him and he decided to return to prison, to the lover he was unable to forget.

Back in prison, things did not go the way he imagined. Jim refused to renew their relationship. What’s more, he reacted to Jack’s admissions of love with disgust, and banned him from coming near him. In despair over finding himself in such an absurd situation, that is, that he had traded freedom to be near a former lover who now rejected him, Jack sank lower and lower. He began to drink, take drugs, and behave like a male prostitute. He started spending time with black prisoners, thinking that if he gave himself to them, Jim would get jealous. He simply could not grasp that Jim had rejected homosexuality.

To his misfortune, he succeeded in provoking jealousy, not from Jim, but from his black lover. During a walk in the recreation yard, he killed Jack with exactly fifty-six stab wounds, as testified to by the doctors who performed the abduction. It was a horrible sight even for the most incorrigible prisoners. As his crazed black lover stabbed him, Jack screamed that he loved him.

Another incident I remember was a bit lighter, but it still speaks of how certain illusions about multiculturalism are often just that, illusions. The television was broadcasting a tennis match between the American, Serena Williams, and the Russian, Maria Sarapova. In maximum-security prisons, there are special, required areas for watching television for all the individual racial groups. Observing how the whites in their special area were rooting for the Russian, Sarapova, I could not resist asking them why they, all of them American, were rooting for the Russian instead of their native American. Of course, the reason for their behavior was the fact that Serena Williams was black, and Marija Sarapova white, nothing more.

It is easy to ridicule this kind of behavior, but it is difficult to explain it and understand it in light of the contemporary dogma about the equality of all and political correctness. I personally believe such behavior is self-explanatory, intuitive, and is found everywhere in nature in all known civilizations. People are only the same from God’s perspective, as God’s creations, the children of God, but from an earthly perspective, where there exists a constant battle for survival and power, every bird flies to its own flock. Not just because he is a “racist” or hates other flocks, but because he feels safer among his own. This is a biological fact that contemporary humanists, as well as followers of Darwin and the French Revolution, cannot come to terms with.

There is of course a solution to this seemingly unsolvable dilemma, but today’s humanists flee from it like bats from hell. The solution is religious study, which teaches that human dignity, as well as equality in terms of this dignity, are based on the fact that all people, regardless of ethnic background or skin color, are children of God. We can give thanks to these very teachings that democracy, human rights and freedom have advanced. However, every teaching, even Christian, is in itself cold and non-binding unless it is accompanied by faith. Therefore, the belief of the so-called contemporary humanists that through the elimination of Christianity from our civilization, human freedom, universal justice, and equality will be achieved, is naive. Just the opposite; our civilization would, instead, plunge into the blackest barbarism and slavery, in which superstition, inequality, and depravity would rule.

Actually, the most informed of these “humanists” know all too well what they are doing and where it all leads, but the majority of the deluded have no idea they are really working against themselves. Because they are working against human nature and human dignity. By eliminating one by one the layers of belonging to culture, religion, nation (and family is next), a person loses his very essence. All that remains is an empty shell which is filled as necessary by the manipulators. The need to belong is the deepest human need and whoever negates or manipulates it is doing people great evil.

I have confirmed this belief many times in my life. My prison experiences especially corroborate it. One such experience was related to my acquaintance with Jack Henry Abbott, an intelligent, talented, but deeply unhappy and fragmented person.

After an exhausting two-month trip throughout America in the prison buses, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, I arrived in the small city of Lompoc, California, set in the hills about twenty kilometers from the ocean and one hundred miles north ofLos Angeles.

A prison with the same name was built a few kilometers from this small city, and the first thing I noticed was that, unlike the Atlanta prison, it was not surrounded by twelve-meter high walls, but had instead a double wire fence with threatening and strategically placed gun towers rising from them. As soon as I got out of the bus, I felt the clean air and pleasant California climate. The next day, as the afternoon sun shone in the blue sky, I walked freely around the prison yard without cuffs on my arms and legs and felt great happiness. Not only was my difficult journey behind me, but this prison seemed in contrast with the other much more endurable. It was built during the Second World War, after the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor, and American citizens of Japanese background had been held there for security reasons. Ten kilometers from the prison was also the largest military air base, Vandenberg.

Arriving at a new prison is like moving to a new place, a new city. The prison in Lompoc was for me not only a new and unknown place, but I knew none of the 1700 residents there; however, since our case was widely publicized in the print and electronic media, a lot of the prisoners had read and heard about it and wanted to make my acquaintance and find out more about it. One of them, Jack Henry Abbott, who lived in the block I was placed in, was especially interested in our case. He was short and wiry, a bundle of nerves, always tense, and he emotionally and passionately presented the views he had adopted through extensive reading, and it was obvious he’d read a lot.

After our first conversation, it was clear that Jack was a fanatical Marxist-Leninist and that for him the Communist Manifesto was the Bible. However, I was surprised with his opinions about Croatia, not to mention shocked.

For example, he’d heard about Jelacic (Count Josip Jelacic von Buzim, 1801-1859, a Croatian count and army general, noted for his abolition of serfdom in Croatia and supporter of the independence of Croatia from the Austro-Hungarian Empire). He had also heard about what Marx had written about Croatians – that they were a “reactionary nation” and should be “eliminated”. He “knew for a fact” and believed that Croatians had killed 1,600,000 people in Jasenovac alone, women and children, mostly Communists.

He’d read and believed everything Curzio Malaparte had written about Cardinal Alojzije Stepinac. That he had “praised” Ante Pavelic, the head of the Croatian quisling government in the Second World War, when he saw on his table a big basket full of human eyes, and that the Ustashi had plucked out the eyes of still alive Communists and strung them on necklaces.

He also knew about Bleiburg (Note: The Austrian site of mass, post-war exterminations by the Communists of opponents of Marshal Tito, including thousands of women, children, and elderly), but he thought Croatians had gotten off easily considering what they “deserved”. All my attempts to change his mind, to explain he had become a victim of lies and fabrications and had believed disinformation and shameless exaggerations, were in vain. I was unable to shake his convictions, as his ego simply would not allow the possibility of being mistaken. I have to admit I have never met such a zealot, a man who was so devoted to Marxism-Leninism, who spoke so enthusiastically about Trotsky, Mao Tse Tung, and Ho Chi Minh. Jack even reminded me in a strange way of Lenin, with his goatee and penetrating black eyes. When I found out later that he was the illegitimate child of an American soldier and a Chinese prostitute, things became a bit clearer to me.

When our conversations became tense and argumentative, I began avoiding him, which he took as an insult, so he thereafter decided to attack me as I slept. Luckily, I had the habit of setting a type of trap in front of my door, which woke me one morning when Jack tried to sneak into my cell. When I jerked up and jumped out of bed, he flinched and told me in confusion that he had just wanted to return the book I had loaned him.

He indeed did have a book in one hand, and the other was in his pocket. Still groggy and also unarmed, I pretended to accept his story, but I didn’t believe it. What was the hurry to return a book at 6 in the morning, just after the guard had unlocked the cells? After that incident, it became clear to me that I was dealing with a paranoid psychopath.

I was mad at myself for not realizing this sooner and made the decision from then on to apply the principle, “Keep your friends close but your enemies even closer.” I told Jack stories about my village roots, my poverty-stricken childhood and difficult youth, and he told me his about what he’d had to endure in various reform schools for delinquents, how he had been raped and had killed his rapist. It is interesting that in time, a certain mutual empathy developed between us so that our opposing political philosophies no longer bothered us.

Indeed, Jack began to show greater understanding and interest in my points of view, and went so far as to admit that the story about the basket of eyes was probably invented, and the number of Jasenovac victims exaggerated. Still, nothing could shake his hatred of the Catholic Church, or his belief that all nationalism and patriotism was tantamount to chauvinism, that nations and races as well as religions must be eradicated, and that Marx’s dialectic materialism was the only salvation for mankind.

Once I was surprised by a statement he made that had nothing to do with the topic we were discussing. “Listen,” he said seriously, “It’s easy for you because you know where and to what you belong. I am a national, racial, cultural, and religious mixture. Where do I belong? I do not belong anywhere or to anyone. Maybe that’s my problem, so I decided through Marxism to belong to all of mankind.” As he spoke, his face expressed an inner pain and rage and his dark eyes became even more penetrating.

I was speechless, because I felt a great deal of discomfort as well as deep sympathy I couldn’t express to him in words. Later I spoke even more carefully with him, as I would to a wounded tiger. He even shared some of his writings with me about what he’d experienced and survived throughout his childhood in various reform schools and prisons. It was a very angry but impressively written indictment of the American prison system titled In the Belly of the Beast. He confided to me that he had sent parts of the book to one of America’s best-known writers and Pulitzer-Prize winner, Norman Mailer, and that he had promised that he would not only help him publish the book, but also help get Jack out of prison. This was a time when the American intellectual elite was fascinated with left-wing radicals and revolutionaries, and even supported their terrorist activities.

Famous and rich Americans, especially in Hollywood and New York – Leonard Bernstein, for example – organized cocktail parties for them, at which money was collected, and the media coined the term “Radical Chic” to describe their activities. It was “cool” back then. After I read several of Mailer’s letters to Jack, I was almost certain that these famous and influential people in American public life would find a way to get Jack out of prison. When I said this to Jack, he was happy, but he made me swear to keep his correspondence with Mailer and his possible prospects for release secret.

Not long after, Jack surprised me with a new stupidity, and I really thought he had blown his chances for release because of it. Namely, Jack had the job of cleaning an area where there were vending machines, and you could buy Coca Cola if you had change.

When a serviceman came to fill the machine and empty it of change, Jack hit him on the head with a broom, knocked him out, robbed him, hid him among the tables, and then called for the guard to unlock the door so he could return to his unit, as he had “finished his cleaning”. When they came to arrest Jack, he was supposedly surprised and denied he had done it, in spite of the fact that he was the only one working there and that the guard had had to come and unlock the door to let him out, unaware the serviceman had been lying there unconscious. That was the last time I saw Jack, because after spending a few months in the “hole”, they transferred him to another prison.

About a year and a half later, he was freed. I saw him on a TV show talking about his book which had just been released. Jack had become an instant star, appearing at book readings, giving interviews for newspapers, TV, radio, socializing with all the omnipresent social, media, and literary figures in American life. The Oscar-winner Susan Sarandon admired him so much that she named her son Jack Henry. The Polish writer Jerzy Kosinski was also a fan. Some hoped he would receive or at least be nominated for the Nobel Prize!I don’t know how surprised or shocked all his outside admirers were with what he did next, but those who knew him in prison had only this comment, “What took him so long?”

It hadn’t really taken that long. Only six weeks after he had been released on parole, Jack was cruising various bars and restaurants in the company of two girls from some minor European royal family. When a waiter in one of the cafés refused to give him the key to the bathroom, saying it was only for employees, Jack, highly insulted, told him to step outside so they could discuss it without the presence of the girls. When the naive waiter went outside, Jack pulled out a knife, killed him, and fled. Over a bathroom key.

It was by coincidence that I had received Jack’s book, In the Belly of the Beast while he was still on the run. I have to admit that I smiled cynically when I read the foreword of the book, in which Norman Mailer had written, among other things, that “it was obvious from Abbott’s letters that he is an intellectual, a radical, a potential leader, a man obsessed with the vision of more sublime human relations in a better world in which revolution could emerge.” How similar this was to the panegyrics that had all too often been given to Lenin, Trotsky, Tito, Red Army Faction revolutionaries, Red Brigades. My cynicism, of course, was not directed at Abbott, for whom I had a lot of empathy, but toward Mailer.

Actually, everyone had realized the king was naked, so all his fans had to sprinkle themselves with ashes and admit their naivety. I was therefore not surprised to read a critical and quite sarcastic article about them in the media, where all kinds of details were presented on Abbott that had been accessible to everyone earlier, as well as Abbott’s own statement that he was an unbalanced and violent person. Facts and conclusions that “could only escape intellectuals.” Even Mailer admitted later in an interview that his involvement with Abbott was “another episode in my life in which I can find nothing to cheer about or nothing to take pride in. It was a study in false pride!” The problem is that the New York waiter paid with his life for Mailer’s false pride.

After killing twenty-two year old Richard Aran, Jack was on the run for a little more than a month. He was caught sleeping in an oil pipe in Texas. He had probably planned to flee through Mexico to South America. Later, he wrote one more book in prison, My Return, but it was not a cause of rave reviews. The idle intellectuals had definitely written off their “plaything”. When the Parole Board refused to release him on parole even after twenty years, Jack killed himself in 2002 by hanging himself from a rope he had fashioned from a bed sheet. When I read about this in a newspaper, I was sad for the tragic fate of the man, and often thought what could be learned from the case of Jack Henry Abbott. And how I could have become his victim, simply because he’d read and believed false propaganda that happened to coincide with his political philosophy.

In spite of everything, I could not hate the man; in fact, we had become close on a certain human level, as co-sufferers. He was intelligent and talented, but was never able to overcome the crisis of identity he had felt since his very birth. Prison and his tragic end were therefore a logical conclusion to the conflict within Abbott himself. If I have any bitterness, I feel it toward those who, from their pleasant protected world, played with him awhile and then discarded him.

After having returned to Croatia, I had another opportunity to confirm my belief that identity crises are the greatest cause of crises not just with individuals but also society as a whole. The Croatia of my youth had had other problems, which had to be resolved in a different way. I contributed to this struggle as best I knew how. But in the new circumstances, I sought a different way of fighting them, since I was confronted with “enemies” the likes of which I’d never before imagined. Aligned against Croatia were no longer a dictatorship and brute force, but the seductive call of globalization, into which the now “cleansed”former Yugoslav and secret police structures had insinuated themselves. The common Croatian has not learned how to adequately oppose the forces of globalization, as he had been deprived for too long of freedom and the opportunity to build authentic institutions and an authentic elite. The old structures, as we witness from day to day, have taken over all relevant positions in Croatian society.

Unfortunately, the world situation also does not work to our advantage. It seems to me that on a global scale, the conflict between the “forces of blood” and the “forces of money” about which I have previously spoken, is heating up and will soon burst into flame. Within this imminent global conflict, it is important where Croatia will position herself and who will be her leader. Personally, I see only in Russia and Germany the power to oppose the forces of money and prevent mankind from sinking into a new form of slavery. I have great hope in a future alliance between these two large national states. They would be capable of offering resistance to this merciless globalization under the leadership of Money as the only God the contemporary world knows and accepts. In a world in which this “divinity”has taken total control, every vestige of identity, homeland, family, is destined to disappear. Everyone would become like Abbott, the tragic hero of our times. And when everyone becomes like Abbott, individuals would cease to be tragic. At that point, all of humankind is tragic.

Zvonko Bušić

Ključne riječi #Jack Henry Abbott #Zdravo oko #Zvonko Bušić