Prije točno pola stoljeća počela je važna večer za Hrvatsku

Dok ulazimo u deveti mjesec svjetske bitke protiv misterioznog virusa poznatog kao Covid-19, sveprisutna maska ​​u svim svojim stilskim manifestacijama podsjeća na još jednu bolest za koju još uvijek ne postoji cjepivo: hrvatsku šutnju.

U vrijeme Titove diktature, kada je skovan ovaj izraz, ljudi su također nosili maske, ali one su bile nevidljive ljudskom oku. Karantene su bile nepotrebne, kao ni socijalno distanciranje, a u medijima nije bilo žestokih rasprava o tome što je lažno ili što nije; Tito je imao Goli otok, Staru Gradišku i brojne druge smrtonosne kazne učinkovitije od maski da zaustave širenje virusa istine, pa su usta ostala čvrsto zatvorena. Ali rijetko kada, smrtonosna tišina biva prekinuta.

Bilo je to prije točno pedeset godina, 28. studenog 1970., noć uoči bivšeg Dana Republike u bivšoj Jugoslaviji. Prijatelj i ja sjedili smo na vrhu nebodera, tada diskoteke, na Trgu bana Jelačića. Mi glupi Amerikanci nismo znali da se Hrvati počinju zabavljati kasno, oko 22 sata, pa smo stigli puna tri sata prerano i diskoteka je bila prazna. Na podu pored nas se nalazila velika platnena vreća u kojoj su bile tisuće letaka na hrvatskom jeziku koje sam dobila od svog dečka i kasnije supruga Zvonka, a svi su sadržavali nezgodnu istinu. Tada je, međutim, postojala samo jedna monolitna istina: Titova. I ona je bila dijametralno suprotno onome što je napisano u našim lecima: Jugoslavija nije bila utopija u kojoj su svi bili jednaki, niti ekonomsko čudo, niti bastion solidarnosti. Imala je najveći postotak političkih zatvorenika po stanovništvu u cijeloj Europi, a njezin reklamirani “Komunizam s ljudskim licem” opstajao je spregom sile i terora.

“Braćo, Hrvati, radnici, studenti, intelektualci”, u lecima je pisalo: “Moramo se u ime bratstva i jedinstva odreći vlastitog imena, slijediti liniju Tita i stranke, osuditi naše očeve i braću… …koji su žrtvovali svoje živote i istrunuli u mučilištima Nove Jugoslavije”. Također je bilo riječi i o ekonomskim neuspjesima i masovnom iseljavanju: “Reforme, ekonomsko propovijedanje, birokratsko miješanje, minimalna plaća, likvidacija i nezaposlenost”. Bila su to pitanja zbog kojih je postojalo nezadovoljstvo svih naroda, a ne samo Hrvata. Ali što se tiče emigracije, Hrvati su činili većinu: “Za nas nije bilo posla, dok su drugi dobivali posao. Otvoreno su nam rekli da pronađemo posao u inozemstvu… jer mi nismo ‘vodeća nacija’…”

U svom detaljnom izvještaju o incidentu bacanja letaka, nekoliko mjeseci kasnije, američko veleposlanstvo istaknulo je da “uvredljivi letak ne poziva na nasilno djelovanje unutar Jugoslavije. Umjesto toga, poziva Hrvate da se brzo dignu pred navodnim nepravdama… Niti izravno niti neizravno ne cilja čak ni na prihvatljive ciljeve poput svrgnutih čelnika Rankovića i Đilasa …. fašista … Aleksandrove diktature… Protestira odlazak mladih Hrvata za poslom u emigraciju, pitanje o kojem autori uživaju simpatije mnogih danas moćnih u Hrvatskoj”. Veleposlanstvo zaključuje da “iako su leci… vrlo nepovoljni za jugoslavensku vlast, oni ne pozivaju na laku javnu osudu dok su govori o regionalnom i nacionalnom interesu sve više postali dijelom lokalne scene”.

Hrvatsko proljeće, masovni prosvjedni pokret studenata i intelektualaca koji se dogodio 1971. godine, još je uvijek tek bio na pomolu, pa je u tom smislu letak bio avangardni, vjesnik događaja koji dolaze, budući da su mnoga pitanja prosvjednika Hrvatskog proljeća bila identična onima iznesenim u letku iz 1970. Ishod oba događaja također je bio identičan: zatvor za mene, ali i za velik broj čelnika Hrvatskog proljeća. Drugi, sretniji od nas dobili su kućni pritvor, izgubili putovnice i posao, i zabranjena im je bilo kakva vrsta javnog govora ili aktivnosti. Protjerani, ušutkani, diskriminirani i omalovažavani kao “narodni neprijatelji”.

Hrvatska je sada neovisna, demokratska zemlja nakon što je pobijedila u brutalnom agresorskom ratu u kojem su tisuće izgubile život, čitavi gradovi u ruševinama, a stotine tisuća bile su prisiljene postati izbjeglicama, rasute po cijelom svijetu. Sada neovisna Hrvatska nastoji pridavati najveću vrijednost slobodi govora na temelju Opće deklaracije o ljudskim pravima, dok u zemlji otvoreno djeluje preko 200 političkih stranaka, te mnoštvo pojedinaca neprestano kritizira vladu. Još nitko nije optužen, kao što sam ja bila, za širenje “neprijateljske propagande” koja “zagovara ili potiče na nasilnu ili neustavnu promjenu društvenog sustava ili državnog poretka”, i tako dalje i tako dalje. Takve aktivnosti, u bivšoj Titovoj diktaturi, zahtijevale su kaznu zatvora u rasponu od tri do 12 godina.

Ali kao što je njemački filozof Nietzsche tako mudro rekao: “Sve što je duboko voli masku”; drugim riječima, maske nisu uvijek tako složene i plave, zakačene oko ušiju i nisu uvijek vidljive ljudskom oku. Postoji mnogo načina da se umanji sloboda govora, a da se ljudi ne zatvore u stvarni zatvor, jer stvari nisu uvijek onakve kakve izgledaju. Ispod površine su mračne struje, neobične kombinacije ljudi i događaja koji vode do mnoštva pitanja bez odgovora. Na primjer: ako Hrvatska sada ima “slobodne i neovisne medije”, zašto su ljudi i dalje opečaćeni, ušutkani, diskriminirani i omalovažavani kao “narodni neprijatelji”, samo bez stvarnog zatvora? I zašto su to obično oni ljudi koji bi inače bili poslani u pravi zatvor u bivšoj Jugoslaviji te optuženi za “neprijateljsku propagandu” ili “pokušaje promjene postojećeg sustava”? I kako je moguće da je novinarima, profesorima, političarima i sucima koji su djelovali kao tajni policajci ili doušnici u bivšoj Jugoslaviji dopušteno da se iznova “preporode” kao “demokrati i pobornici ljudskih prava”, a sada većina njih drži visoke pozicije u politici i medijima, odlučujući o tome koga će se ušutjeti, a tko je “prikladan”?

Možda je najbolja ilustracija dobro poznate fraze “što se više stvari mijenjaju, to više ostaju iste” otkazivanje moga govora, bez objašnjenja, koji sam nedavno, trebala održati u jednoj zagrebačkoj gimnaziji, jednom od mnogih tako uspješnih predavanja koja sam održala tijekom godina. Naslov je bio: “Zbog čega se vrijedi žrtvovati?” Jedna od tema o kojoj sam trebala govoriti je: pitanje slobode govora u bivšoj Jugoslaviji, što oslikava incident bacanja letaka na Trgu bana Jelačića. Dakle, mene su ušutjeli u demokratskoj Hrvatskoj o tome kako su me ušutjeli u diktatorskoj Jugoslaviji!

Tijekom godina često sam sjedila na Trgu bana Jelačića, pila kavu i gledala u Neboder, zamišljajući kako još uvijek mogu vidjeti tisuće letaka dok plutaju prema tlu i gomili ljudi. Terasa je bila zatvorena nakon mog “zločina” kako bi spriječila druge da učine nešto slično. I nitko to nikada nije više učinio. U znak sjećanja na događaj desetljećima kasnije, nakon hrvatske neovisnosti, bivši direktor Nebodera darovao mi je kristalnu vazu s ispisanim datumom tog “događaja letka”. Taj moj čin se spominje i u informativnoj brošuri o povijesti zgrade. Danas je taj događaj u velikoj mjeri zaboravljen, pometen vjetrovima vremena koji diktiraju bezazlene poglede na bivšu diktaturu i ponižavaju njene kritičare.

Ovdje možete kupiti knjigu u kojoj je detaljno opisan navedeni događaj

Ali u ovome postoji i neobična utjeha: kojeg li boljeg mjesta za pravednika, nepravedno optuženog, doli zatvora, sa ili bez rešetaka?

EN

As we enter our ninth month of the worldwide battle against the mysterious virus known as Covid, the omnipresent mask, in all its stylistic manifestations, reminds us of another illness for which there is still no vaccine: hrvatska šutnja. During the Tito dictatorship, when this expression was coined, people also wore masks, but they were invisible to the human eye. Quarantines were unnecessary, as was social distancing, and there were no heated discussions in the media about what was fake or what was not; Tito had Goli Otok, Stara Gradiska, and scores of other lethal punishments more effective than masks to stop the spread of the truth virus, so mouths remained tightly closed. But once in a blue moon, the deadly silence was broken.

It was exactly fifty years ago, November 28,1970, the night before the former Republic Day in the former Yugoslavia. A friend and I were sitting on the top of the skyscraper, then a disco, on Ban Jelacic Square. We silly Americans didn’t know that Croatians began partying late, around 10pm, so we had arrived a full three hours too early and the disco was empty. Lying on the floor next to us was a large canvas bag containing thousands of leaflets in the Croatian language that I had received from my boyfriend and later husband, Zvonko, and they all contained an inconvenient truth. Back then, however, there was only one monolithic truth: Tito’s. And it was diametrically opposed to what was written in our leaflets: Yugoslavia was not a utopia in which all were equal, or an economic wonder, or a bastion of solidarity. It had the highest percentage of political prisoners by population in all of Europe, and its touted “Communism with a human face” was held together by force and terror. “Brothers, Croatians, Workers, Students, Intellectuals”, the leaflets read, “…we are asked in the name of brotherhood and unity to renounce our own name, to follow in the line of Tito and the party, to condemn our fathers and brothers…..who sacrificed their lives and rotted in the torture chambers of the “New Yugoslavia”… Economic failures and mass emigration were also addressed: “the reforms, economic preaching, bureaucratic meddling, minimum wage, liquidation and unemployment”. These were issues about which there was widespread discontent among all the nations, not just the Croatians. But as far as emigration was concerned, Croatians comprised the majority: “for us there was no work, but others got the jobs. We were told openly to find jobs abroad…because we are not the ‘leading nation’….”

In its detailed report on the leaflet-throwing incident a few months later, the U.S. Embassy pointed out that “the offending leaflet does not call for violent action within Yugoslavia. Instead, it urges Croatians to stand fast in the face of alleged injustices….it levels its sights directly or indirectly on such acceptable targets as deposed leaders Rankovic and Djilas….the fascists….King Alexander’s dictatorship…and deplores the wholesale emigration of young Croats for jobs abroad, an issue on which the authors enjoy the sympathy of many in power today in Croatia.” The Embassy concludes that “although the leaflets are …highly uncomplimentary to Yugoslav leadership, they do not invite easy public condemnation, when expressions of regional and national interest have become increasingly a part of the local scene.”

The Croatian Spring, the mass protest movement of students and intellectuals which took place in 1971, was still only on the horizon, so in that sense, the leaflet was avant garde, a harbinger of things to come, since many of the Croatian Spring protest issues were identical to those expressed in our leaflet in 1970. The outcome of both events was also identical: prison for me and also for a large number of the Croatian Spring leaders. Others more fortunate were given house arrest, lost their passports and jobs, and were banned from any type of public speech or activity. Ostracized, silenced, discriminated against, and belittled as “enemies of the people.”

Croatia is now an independent, democratic country after having been victorious in a brutal war of aggression in which thousands lost their lives, entire cities lay in ruins, and hundreds of thousands were forced to become refugees, dispersed throughout the world. The now-independent Croatia purports to place the highest value on freedom of speech based on the Universal Declaration on Human Rights, and, in fact, there are over two hundred political parties openly operating in the country, and scores of individuals continually criticizing the government. Nobody has yet been charged, as I was, with disseminating “hostile propaganda” which “advocates or incites the violent or unconstitutional change of the social system or state organization”, and so on and so forth. Such activities, in the former Tito dictatorship, mandated a prison term ranging from 3-12 years.

But as the German philosopher Nietzsche so wisely pointed out “everything deep loves a mask”; in other words, the masks are not always pleated and blue, hooked around one’s ears, and are not always visible to the human eye. There are many ways to curtail freedom of speech without putting people in an actual prison. And things are not always as they appear, there are dark currents beneath the surface, strange combinations of people and events leading to scores of unanswered questions, for example: if Croatia now has a “free and independent media”, why are people still ostracized, silenced, discriminated against, and belittled as “enemies of the people”, just without the actual prison? And why are they typically those people who would have been sent to a real prison in former Yugoslavia, charge with “hostile propaganda” or “attempts to change the existing system”? And how is it possible that journalists, professors, politicians, and judges who acted as secret police officers or informants in the former Yugoslavia have been allowed to re-invent themselves as “democrats and human rights champions”, and now hold the majority of high positions in politics and the media, deciding who is silenced and who is “appropriate”?

Perhaps the best illustration of the well-known phrase “the more things change, the more they remain the same” is the cancellation of a speech not long ago, without explanation, that I was to hold in a Zagreb high school, one of many such successful lectures I had given over the years. The title: What is worth sacrificing oneself for? One of the subjects I was to discuss: freedom of speech issues in the former Yugoslavia, as illustrated by the leaflet-throwing incident on Ban Jelacic Square. Thus, I was silenced in democratic Croatia about talking about when I was silenced in dictatorial Yugoslavia!

Throughout the years, I have often sat on Ban Jelacic Square drinking coffee and gazing up at the Neboder, imagining I can still see the thousands of leaflets floating to the ground into the crowds of people below. The terrace was enclosed after my “crime” to prevent others from doing something similar, and nobody ever did. To commemorate the event decades later, after Croatian independence, the former director of the Neboder presented me with a crystal vase inscribed with the date of the leaflet incident, and my act is also mentioned in an information brochure on the history of the building. Today it has been largely forgotten, swept away with the winds of time that dictate a benign view of the former dictatorship and vilification of its critics.

But there is a strange consolation in this: What truer place for the just man unjustly accused than a prison, with or without the bars?

Ključne riječi #borba za Hrvatsku #Julienne Bušić #Zvonko Bušić