– Branko Petranović –
From the extensive archive of written correspondence with colleagues and other citizens interested in contemporary history for various reasons — familial, property-related, legal, factual, ideological, partisan, etc. — I have selected a short exchange with Dr. Zoja Jovanović, a physician from Belgrade and the daughter of Colonel-General Arso Jovanović, one of the most distinguished soldiers of Yugoslavia in the Second World War. I knowingly violated the rules of proper conduct, as I did not seek Dr. Jovanović’s consent for the public use of part of this correspondence. Fearing I would not obtain it, I decided to act unilaterally in the interest of truth, which I consider paramount in this case. The importance of the individual and her dramatic story far outweighed the procedural aspect — one I have never otherwise neglected as a component of democracy and freedom. Did not Jhering call the procedural aspect “freedom’s twin sister”?
Dr. Jovanović contacted me following the publication of my monograph Serbia in the Second World War 1939-1945, in which General Jovanović is mentioned “politically impartially,” and of the book Yugoslavia in the Second World War 1941-1945. There are three issues on which Dr. Jovanović is absolutely correct, according to all laws of democracy, humanity and, above all, historical truth. The family of Arso Jovanović was, first and foremost, interested in “information about the location where their closest relative was buried,” emphasizing that the “so-called human right to pay respects to the deceased is among the so-called civilizational rights protected even by customary international law — the so-called corpus of universally accepted human rights.” Unfortunately, the Presidency of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia responded that it was unable to provide appropriate information regarding Jovanović’s grave. Dr. Jovanović justifiably finds the state’s motivation for such restraint and limitation of the family’s rights — after nearly half a century — incomprehensible.
In order for the family to exercise inheritance and family rights, it is required to obtain a “death certificate” — that is, to initiate a procedure for the court to declare the missing person deceased, which the Jovanović family rightfully considers a “humiliating procedure.” One could call it an unprecedented form of cynicism, given that an official state announcement of Jovanović’s death at the Yugoslav-Romanian border was published in Borba on August 18, 1948. However, under the Law on Civil Registries, this announcement does not carry the weight of an official public document. The family believes that using this process of declaring someone missing (“a procedure intended for those unfortunate souls whose traces and voices have vanished during their lifetimes”) would also be inappropriate for the state, considering the individual in question was a fighter against fascism, Chief of the Supreme Headquarters during the anti-fascist war, and a recipient of the Orders of Suvorov and Kutuzov. Without establishing inheritance rights, the general’s manuscripts left behind after his death cannot be accessed. His role in the July 13 uprising, in the battle for Pljevlja, the campaign in western Bosnia, the fighting for Belgrade (“The Belgrade Operation”) and the campaign in the Julian March at the end of the war — all of this is well known. The family has a vested interest, as does historical scholarship, in preserving and analysing Arso Jovanović’s papers, especially since in contemporary memoir literature there are efforts to “challenge his military knowledge and command capabilities.”
The family is determined to remove the stain from their closest relative’s name and to have his case examined with the full objectivity of historical science. On this point, Dr. Jovanović states: “Unfortunately, when it comes to such political conduct by the state, not only is its legal system often not immune, but neither is the supposedly neutral and objective field of historical science, which should have an independent social justification and its own integrity in relation to the state. For decades, the name of Colonel-General Arso Jovanović and his military achievements during the National Liberation War have been systematically neglected and often attributed to various political ‘apparatchiks.’ In historiographical literature, his name is almost always associated with negative political connotations, while his professional military expertise is disputed, and he is labelled as personally arrogant and inaccessible. Events surrounding his death, again, have long been left to political journalism and speculation in popular literature.” And further: “The defamation of General A. Jovanović’s name has taken deep root, especially in so-called memoir literature, which largely revolves around the self-glorification of its authors, while simultaneously attempting to discredit potential political and military rivals. Naturally, among the so-called actors on the political and historical scene there were personal animosities tied to competing battles for various ‘recognitions’ and military or status symbols. These tensions were especially strong after 1945, during the formation of a new personal establishment within the freshly vacated hierarchy of the state. Memoir literature bears witness to the persistence of such competitive resentment even half a century later.” This final fragment is highly indicative — and of interest to historians — as it confirms a longstanding thesis: the struggle for positions truly begins only after victory. I recall listening to Radio Paris in 1948, which frequently emphasized that “everything now depends on the Montenegrin generals,” who had multiplied within the general corps — though it is doubtful they were ever so influential. Sources we were able to examine after Tito’s death suggest that he systematically rid himself of all those who might one day “play the Russian card” — those who were irredeemably Russophile. Was it not Tito who conducted a general rehearsal by withdrawing Hebrang from Croatia and replacing him with Vl. Bakarić, who had already been in Jajce during the Second Session of AVNOJ as a deputy minister for training purposes, followed later by the punishment of S. Žujović over his views on state capitalism? Tito never trusted Žujović, and he feared Hebrang, as he was an old comrade — they had triumphed together at the Eighth Zagreb Conference, and messages were arriving from Moscow in Hebrang’s name as early as 1945…
In popular non-fiction literature, Jovanović was for decades labelled a “careerist,” a portrayal copied by others who wrote about 1948 and its victims without doing any genuine research.
Dr. Jovanović’s letter inevitably prompted me to reflect. Even in this era of widespread rehabilitations of individuals from various sides of the “fronts,” the “case” of General Jovanović somehow remained sidelined, forgotten — as though he were merely a random participant in the last war, and not the head of the “General Staff,” as the old Josip Smodlaka once wrote in his Partisan Diary. Did he have comrades (thank God, Montenegro had no shortage of generals and first fighters)? It seems to confirm the rule that everything proceeds smoothly when the state stands behind a rehabilitation — and devilishly difficult when it is initiated by the victim or a family member (probatio diabolica). While replying to Dr. Jovanović, I reflected as an historian — one who had overlooked a serious, principled, human question. “And what does state rehabilitation even mean after 50 years? Is there any better rehabilitation than history itself? Perhaps new knowledge could offer the family some form of satisfaction… Is Arso Jovanović the only one condemned to eternal silence? What are the powers that fear the graves of their opponents? Is the graveyard silence over his ‘case’ more fruitful than the analysis of the drama of a man crucified by the storm of old faith and betrayal by former high priests?”
I would not belong to this profession — would not be truly dedicated to it — if I could stay calm in the face of such an unresolved fragment of our contemporary history, despite all my scepticism about how little can truly be done to deepen understanding of that era. As a participant in these events, I want to lift the veil on what happened in my youth and later — to understand what happened, and what the foundation of our ideals truly was.
The first part of Dr. Jovanović’s letter concerns the procedures for rehabilitation, a matter in which I truly cannot be of much help.1 I was left aghast by the machinery of the state and its procedural demands.
“Fully understanding your desire to learn the truth about your father, I am personally most preoccupied with the reflections of a professional. I hope you will not hold this against me. How can one explain the life path of Arso Jovanović, from his birth to his death — his era? Once, he was torn between his oath and patriotism, and later between a new faith and apostasy. How much was he exploited in the conflict that followed?2 Is there a more appropriate moment to ask all these questions than now, as we stand between two epochs — one that has collapsed, and another yet to take shape? Who were we, what did we do, how did we change, why did we hate each other so intensely — losing our human dignity…
“Your letter helped me realize that one question remained overshadowed — still unclear, unknown, unresolved, open to further mystification. The wartime issue is clear, and later actions should not be used like a sponge to wipe out an entire climactic phase of a person’s life. A fundamental challenge remains for every historian — to determine what the evidence says (through cross-referencing and critical analysis) from KOS and the NKVD. Alongside the wartime phase, two other areas also need to be clarified — the ideological and political conduct of the once-fervent fighters for the Soviet, Stalinist truth in 1948.
“…For me — a Russophile in terms of tradition and literature, but an irreconcilable anti-Stalinist — Stalin ruthlessly attacked Yugoslavia, just as Tito betrayed the people’s ‘expectations’ of democratic emancipation and, in Stalinist fashion, destroyed a part of his own ideological dissenters. But even if Jovanović acted on the wrong side of history in 1948, there are several years of his life that were highly valued during the anti-fascist and revolutionary struggle of the peoples of Yugoslavia. And if, in 1948, he made a move contrary to the interests of the victorious class and the attacked state — which found itself in a defensive posture — then this, too, must be addressed, from the standpoint of the party’s unchecked power of judgement and discipline, the cult of Tito and the widespread failure to understand the phenomenon of Stalinism…
“History rightfully allows us to contemplate all this from different perspectives. It simply demands that we ask new questions — half a century later, and after the collapse of the order, system and ideas that General Jovanović himself once upheld. To a layperson, this may seem like historical relativization — but to professionals, even raising new questions about defunct history is part of its very nature as a science.”
Dr. Jovanović replied that she would write “her own” book, one that would approach history from a slightly “oblique” angle. She responded to my letter by introducing some broader reflections of general relevance to history that I cannot leave unmentioned — despite her explicit wish that our correspondence not be turned into “epistolary literature.” I will respect her will in the more personal parts of the letter, but I believe the following excerpts offer intellectual, stylistic and methodological-theoretical contributions to anyone who chooses to “enter” this issue and navigate through “political prejudice” and “historiographical sterility,” much like “masters searching for fresh pigments of frescoes beneath whitewashed, time-worn walls of neglected monasteries.” “I believe,” writes Dr. Jovanović, “that historiography has not fully illuminated the personal relationship between my father and Josip Broz, a relationship that was potentially conflictual due to their ties to different cultural-historical traditions, previous life experiences and so on. Under wartime conditions, such a relationship could only be described as a passing so-called situational connection” … “Personally, I believe that after the war, Tito no longer needed strong people, only obedient ones. His political pragmatism limited his understanding of the fact that, in the long run, a state also needs respected military leaders. He created his own ‘party army,’ which later collapsed during crises, once the political party itself disintegrated.” … “I believe that my father’s political party was the otadžbina (fatherland) — I intentionally use this archaic word from the vocabulary of the old Yugoslav army. When Albert Camus was asked about his political affiliation, he answered that ‘his political party was the French language’ (‘mon parti est la langue francaise’). The concept of the fatherland, in my view, was the very centre of my father’s moral being. He was shaped by Montenegrin traditions, by a father blinded in war and by the cult of the Serbian fatherland army, which still radiated influence within the army where he served as a professional officer. That is why he was only loosely attached to the other members of the Supreme Headquarters of the National Liberation Army — which was composed exclusively of party officials. Naturally, the controversial image of my father is more easily sketched not by what he aspired to, but by those he opposed — those he betrayed.”
Dr. Jovanović is especially irritated by the fact that in the Military Encyclopedia, Arso Jovanović is not listed as a member of the Supreme Headquarters, but as part of some professional officers’ service. This, she says, is “not only absurd but a clear attempt to retroactively minimize Arso Jovanović’s military role in the war. This type of writing in the Military Encyclopedia can only be explained as sycophancy on the part of its authors towards the court.” … “Because of such and similar reasons, I also resist certain parts of your letter that discuss the phenomenon of ‘treason’ and the police mystifications surrounding my father’s name. I believe that every act of betrayal presupposes a prior relationship of loyalty — which my father owed to no one, nor was he ever in any conspiracy with anyone. His sense of loyalty was directed solely toward his fatherland and its interests — as he understood them. The state party leadership treated him, on the one hand, as a man they needed for his military skills, and on the other, expected from him the loyalty of a political apparatchik.”
Who could disagree with you, Dr. Jovanović, regarding the notion of “treason” — whether national, state, class-based or party-based — which, as a category, was abused in the “Second Yugoslavia” to such a degree that it was constantly applicable, like a Damocles sword hanging over the head of any opponent of the court and ruler? I intentionally included an essay in this book on the relativization of the concept of “betrayal.” The most difficult betrayal is undoubtedly the personal one: the kind you commit within yourself, without anyone noticing; the most vile is betrayal of a family member or friend, betrayal of those who were close to you, betrayal of moral values… All of that is part of the metaphysics from which a human being is woven — and it serves as material for dissecting the spirit in humanistic literature. There was, in this case, a major historical crossroads, where moral behaviour had to be measured alongside historical consequences — since we are dealing with people who shaped history and could directly influence the outcome of the unfolding drama. No historian can consider irrelevant General Jovanović’s motivation — personal and broader — his relationship with Broz, Stalin, the USSR and Yugoslavia. For an historical analysis, it is of great importance: What was he attempting to achieve by trying to escape? Was it to save himself from expected retribution? To continue political activity against Tito from exile? Or simply to leave behind a society with which he had parted ways — either at that moment, or perhaps much earlier?
How many times have we written about the deficiencies of procedural files — excluding only those items (documents and other materials) seized from the accused — from the standpoint of all kinds of, as you put it, “police mystifications,” in which various informants, pathetic in their profession, indulged themselves as much as they liked, perhaps even encouraged by their superiors to “do more” or to “decorate better,” so that the product of UDBA would appear more convincing. There is neither space nor need here — even if we knew every case — to discuss all possible abuses. Instead, let us focus on something far more important: we are dealing here with a full-fledged police state, a monstrous state based on informers, watchers, spies, “observers,” “informants” — whatever names they went by. These people knew how to fabricate everything, to stuff dossiers, to diligently ensure that they were “UDBA-fied.” A critical scalpel will strip away much visibly false material from these reports — pseudo-reports, testimony given under duress, politically motivated or fabricated fantasies — but what remains cannot be ignored by historians. The party character assessments and interrogation transcripts from that period are likely the most disgraceful sources of all time. Even when we reject and qualify them as such, we cannot and must not avoid them when compiling historical sources.
Wise people have long distinguished between patriotism as a virtue and history as a science. They continue to advise us today that these two things should not be mixed.
Notes
1 Two days after I sent you the letter, I happened to read a statement in Večernje novosti by then-Minister Dr. Momčilo Grubač, who was working on the Law on Rehabilitation: “To avoid any misunderstanding — the draft of the future law does not provide for automatic rehabilitation of all political opponents who were punished or convicted in any way by the former regime. All those who committed criminal offences (murders, treason against the country and the like) — and there are many such individuals, not only among the Chetniks, but also among Cominformists and other political offenders — will not be able to count on moral, and especially not on material, satisfaction.”
2 In informed circles, it was said that Ana Pauker — the Romanian Minister of Foreign Affairs and a well-known communist official — who was in Belgrade at the time attending the Danube Conference, had planned to secretly transfer General Jovanović by plane to Bucharest. There, as an influential figure, he was to form a government composed of dissidents from the Communist Party of Yugoslavia. However, when the plan was uncovered, he attempted to flee across the border.
(Translated from: Branko Petranović, Istoričar i savremena epoha [Beograd: Novinsko-izdavačka ustanova “Vojska”, 1994], pp. 213-220)