If there were ever a competition for the most grotesquely misplaced sense of pride, the scenes surrounding Ratko Mladić’s funeral in Belgrade would certainly deserve a nomination.
Thousands gathered at Topčider Cemetery dressed in black, Serbian flags held proudly in the air, while many wore T-shirts featuring the face of a man convicted of genocide and war crimes.
Yes, genocide. And apparently, for some, that is now merchandise.
The spectacle included flags, wreaths, matching black shirts, political figures, dramatic processions and, perhaps most astonishingly, applause for Mladić’s coffin.
Because when a man has been convicted by an international tribunal for genocide and other crimes, what better response could there be than a standing ovation?
Welcome to the Mladić fan club
People reportedly travelled from across Serbia to “pay tribute” to Mladić.
Some arrived in groups wearing identical shirts bearing his face. Others carried enormous Serbian flags displaying his image. Families came. Young people came.
And apparently nobody thought it particularly strange to bring children to a public gathering where a convicted genocidaire was being celebrated as a national hero.
There is something almost surreal about watching people proudly wear the face of a convicted war criminal as if they were wearing the shirt of a football legend. Except football players win trophies.
Mladić won a conviction for genocide.
The applause says everything
Then came the coffin. As it arrived, the crowd applauded. Some people outside reportedly even asked:
“Who are they applauding?” A remarkably appropriate question. Perhaps they were applauding the coffin.
Perhaps the uniformed men. Perhaps the flags. Or perhaps they simply got carried away by the atmosphere of collectively forgetting exactly why Ratko Mladić became internationally notorious in the first place.
Whatever the answer, the image was extraordinary: a crowd applauding the coffin of a man convicted of genocide. That is not historical remembrance. That is glorification.
The cosplay of “heroism”
The scene apparently required all the usual ingredients of manufactured heroism.
Black shirts, Giant flags,Portraits of Mladić,Laurel wreaths,Politicians,Police escorts.
All that was missing was someone handing out medals for “Best Public Display of Historical Amnesia.”
The irony becomes even harder to ignore when some of the attendees describe Mladić in heroic terms.
A man responsible for atrocities is transformed into a symbol. Victims disappear from the story.
The Hague disappears. The convictions disappear. Srebrenica disappears.
And somehow, the only thing left is the carefully manufactured image of a “general” worthy of admiration.
And the politicians were there too
The spectacle was not confined to anonymous crowds.
Former Serbian minister Aleksandar Vulin attended. Labour Minister Milica Đurđević Stamenkovski was also present. Danilo Vučić, the son of President Aleksandar Vučić, and far-right figure Miša Vacić were among those reported at the funeral.
So much for the idea that this was simply a private family farewell.
When political figures appear alongside crowds proudly displaying the image of a convicted war criminal, the message becomes difficult to misunderstand.
Europe is watching
And here lies the most ridiculous part.
Serbia continues to present itself as a country seeking membership in the European Union.
Yet at the same time, thousands can gather publicly to glorify a man convicted of genocide, wear his face on their clothes, wave flags bearing his image and applaud his coffin.
One has to wonder what exactly they believe European integration means.
Perhaps they think Brussels has a secret “genocide exception.” Perhaps they believe accountability ends at the Serbian border. Or perhaps they simply expect everyone else to forget. They should not.
The spectacle was the message
The most disturbing part of Mladić’s funeral was not that people mourned him.
People have the right to mourn whoever they choose.
The disturbing part was the celebration — the flags, the merchandise, the hero worship, the political presence and the applause.
A funeral could have been a private farewell.
Instead, parts of the crowd turned it into a public demonstration of admiration for a convicted genocidaire.
And that says something far more uncomfortable than any political speech could.
The world has spent decades documenting the crimes of Ratko Mladić.
The Hague convicted him.
History recorded what happened.
But in Belgrade, some people apparently decided that the appropriate response was to put his face on a T-shirt and applaud his coffin.
If this is what “heroism” looks like, perhaps the real tragedy is not that history was forgotten but that some people remember it perfectly and are still proud.
