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War Tourism – Bosnia 1995

In August 1995, during the Bosnian conflict, I witnessed something I had never seen before – War Tourism. It all started with a simple Military Observers’ (UNMO) patrol, in Mont Igman (Sarajevo), while driving on a dirt road I hadn’t travel through before. Inside the UNMO vehicle traveled three UNMO (a Portuguese, a Dutch and a Belgian) plus our “Yellow card” – the Bosnian interpreter. That mountain road had been opened through Igman’s pine trees forest, which protected us from any inconvenient sniper’s visors. The pavement was in very bad conditions and their car was raising more dust than a sand storm; however, according to our interpreter, that was the fastest path to exit Mount Igman towards Konjic (our patrol’s destination).

Suddenly, on the narrow road’s edges, we started to see military bunkers and trenches, manned by Bosnian (ABiH) soldiers. For my greatest surprise, there were “street sale” vans bordering the trenches, and a number of civilians, in a cheerful racket, taking pictures of everything and everybody.

My expression of astonishment was such that my Belgium comrade, a veteran of the Bosnian conflict, decided to explain:

– “Relax; it’s just some War Tourists; it’s a new fashion in Europe.”

I was appalled, and I stopped the vehicle to observe the details of that scene. It really looked like the coffee break of a movie production about the Yugoslav War, with the actors having a beer and a hot-dog, still wearing their military outfit and the production crew wearing civilian cloth concentrated in the adjustments to cameras. The only thing missing was the Director to yell “Lights & Action”.

My Belgium comrade pulled out his national scrolls and explained the concept, which turned out, was not new at all. War tourism actually started with the Battle of Waterloo. There were spectators at the top of a hill, watching and appreciating, in an organized manner, the battle developments.

– “This is perverse.” – I exclaimed – “Some of these soldiers may be Killed In Action this very afternoon … Besides, what if these, so called, tourists encounter an illegal checkpoint? … What then? …Who’s going to risk his live to save them?”

At that point, the cameras turned towards the UN vehicle, and we became the perfect souvenir picture; “the photo” missing on the tourists’ album – a real UNPROFOR car, with real Blue Helmets on it; a Portuguese, a Belgium, a Dutch and a Bosnian civilian. We felt like we were the wild bests of a photographic safari. It was time to move and restarted the vehicle.

One of the war tourists approach our car and, with a strong Dutch accent, asked how the situation was in Sarajevo and if we could escort them to town. At that point, our Dutch comrade, seating on the back seat with the interpreter, told him to “f҉҈k-off”, and I drove away discreetly. We vacated the area without any fuzz, in order not to upset the Bosniak soldiers, that having their 15 minutes of fame. The war tourists were treating them as warrior heroes and gave away all sorts of little presents in exchange for a picture with them.

A tropa no combate ao COVID 19

Esta coisa dos militares estarem a dar apoio e a trabalharem em modo de Planeamento Civil de Emergência (diferente de Proteção Civil), está a provocar azia a alguns elementos da nossa sociedade. Isto começa a fazer-me lembrar as quezílias de algumas NGOs (Organizações Não Governamentais) nos Teatros de Operações de Manutenção de Paz, que não gostavam nada de serem apoiadas pelas forças militares que estavam no terreno. Mais; não gostavam nada de verem os militares a fazer Cooperação Civil Militar (CIMIC). Diziam que não queriam ter nada e não queriam ser conectados com a tropa aos olhos da população que estavam a tentar ajudar. Porém, a verdadeira razão era que os seus patrocinadores, ao verem que essas NGOs tinham apoios, cortavam-lhes os (chorudos) financiamentos.

Posso ao estar a ser “politicamente correcto; mas questino-me se estou certo … ou se estou certo?!

Linhas Aéreas do Talvez (Maybe Airlines) – A componente aérea da ONU

Numa certa madrugada gelada de 1995, após chegar ao Aeroporto de Pleso, em Zagreb – Croácia – a fim de embarcar no meu voo inaugural para Sarajevo, deparei-me com uma fila de capacetes azuis junto à cancela que dava acesso directo para a placa dos aviões. Juntei-me ao grupo dos camaradas da UNPROFOR e verifiquei que era ali mesmo, no exterior, que se fazia o check-in e embarque. Nada de luxo de terminais resguardados da neve com ar condicionado. Junto à cancela, recolhida numa guarita com o logotipo da ONU, estava uma mulher polícia da CIVPOL – a Unidade de Polícia Civil das Nações Unidas. Olhando para além da cancela podia-se ver um velho avião Antonov, sozinho no meio da placa meio nevada. Aquele teimoso veterano dos ares contrariava o seu aspecto museológico com as imensas horas de voo marcadas com manchas de óleo e fuligem na pintura (quase) branca da ONU. Na empenagem vertical da cauda, assim como na fuselagem, exibia orgulhosamente grandes letras negras a dizer UN, mostrando ao Mundo que se tinha fartado de “Guerra Fria” e agora era um “Guardião da Paz” (Peacekeeper).

Debruçada sobre a janela da sua guarita, a mulher polícia ia verificando as “guias de marcha” dos futuros passageiros, certificando-se que estavam na sua lista de embarque.

– “Bem-vindos às “Linhas Aéreas do Talvez” (Maybe Airlines) – Disse a polícia – “Acabei de ver passar a tripulação; a meteorologia não está francamente má; e ninguém está a disparar sobre os aviões em Sarajevo … desta forma “Talvez” vocês voem hoje”.

A alcunha (carinhosa) de Maybe Airlines devia-se ao facto de nunca se saber se havia voo ou não, se o voo ia chegar a horas ou não, ou mesmo se o destino era o inicialmente previsto ou não. Regra geral, não era um problema de falta de tripulações, ou mesmo de aeronaves; era, isso sim, um conjunto de situações que quase sempre tinham uma implicação negativa no planeamento da actividade aérea. Porém, não se pense que o pessoal da UNPROFOR estava desgostoso com as suas Maybe Airlines, pelo contrário, havia mesmo certo orgulho em voar naquela já afamada transportadora aérea. Havia até um carimbo disponível para carimbar guias de marcha e passaportes dos passageiros que o desejassem … e a maior parte deles faziam questão em ter esse carimbo nos seus documentos de viagem; tanto os militares como os civis.

**Carimbo das *Maybe Airlines* num Passaporte (foto de Fernando Costa)**

Entretanto, em Pleso, a mulher polícia levantou a cancela e gritou a plenos pulmões:

– “Passageiros para Sarajevo! Por favor dirijam-se à aeronave, mostrem o vosso cartão de identificação UNPROFOR à tripulação e embarquem. Deixem ficar aqui as vossas bagagens devidamente identificadas, porque seguiram num atrelado para o avião.”

Enquanto caminhava para o Antonov ia estudando o antigo Soviete, questionando-me se seria boa ideia ir para o ar dentro “daquilo”. A minha expressão deve de ter sido tão esclarecedora, que o tripulante responsável pelo porão de carga (load master) adivinhou os meus pensamentos e disse-me:

– “Meu amigo, bem-vindo às Linhas Aéreas do Talvez” vamos descolar dentro em breve e … TALVEZ cheguemos a Sarajevo; deseja vir connosco?”

Já sentados nos bancos de lona, e no meio de todos os ruídos e barulhos característicos de uma aeronave vintage, o load master voltou a falar (aos gritos):

– “Senhores e senhoras, este voo será “Não Fumadores”, porque as caixas à vossa frente são munições; … certifiquem-se que se sentam em cima dos vossos coletes à prova-de-bala e apertem os cintos; … tenham um bom voo!”

A rampa traseira fechou-se e lá fomos nós.

Embora o destino “mais sexi” das Maybe Airlines fosse Sarajevo, eles também voavam para Tuzla (na Bósnia), para Split (na Croácia) e para Belgrado (na Jugoslávia). Anos mais tarde o “franchising” de Maybe Airlines passou a aplicar-se a todas as missões da ONU que tivessem uma componente aérea. Contudo, independentemente do local e situação que voasse nessas aeronaves, nunca mais me esqueci do velho Antonov, que se recusava a ir para o Museu e continuava a voar na Bósnia Herzegovina.

28 August 1995 – Another Black Monday in Sarajevo

On the 28^th of August 1995, at approximately 11H00, I was leaving the UNMO Duty Officer shift at UNPROFOR HQ (Sarajevo) when we all heard some explosions in the general direction of the City’s historical center. Unfortunately, that was quite normal, because was hit an average of 16 artillery grenades per day. However, the first messages had the word MASSACRE, written in capital letters, and that made sound all the alarms. The head of Sarajevo’s Police department was requesting UNPROFOR to send urgently military experts to register and analyze the occurrence. Allegedly, Sarajevo had been attacked with five 120 mm mortar shells, and one of them had impacted in the market place killing a lot of people.

Minutes after, a new message shifted the numbers of casualties to 37 dead and 97 wounded. Those were people that were just buying whatever groceries they could afford at the local market. The total numbers ended up to be 43 people killed and 75 wounded.

At the start, there were a lot of doubts about who had done it; who had fired those mortar rounds. Some said it was impossible for the Serbs to have done it, because there was no angle for a mortar to be fired from their positions to hit that street, in the middle of tall builds. Others argument that it could have been done from the top of a mountain, in which case it would change completely the mathematics. Regardless those discussions, it was well known that the Serbs were forbidden to have heavy weapons around Sarajevo and, not only they disregarded that imposition; they actually kept using heavy weapons against Sarajevo, regularly.

On the 29th August 1995, UN said “enough is enough!” The Serbs had crossed the red line over and over again; something had to be done and NATO was asked to punish the VRS heavy weapons position around Sarajevo.

The North Atlantic Alliance was just waiting to have the “go ahead” and activated an Airstrike Operation planned well in advance, called “Deliberate Force”.

On the early hours of the 30th August 1995, Operation Deliberate Force was launched. A large number of NATO jet fighters took off from Italy and aircraft carriers in the Adriatic, with the mission to strike the Serb heavy weapons’ positions around Sarajevo.

The sounds of explosions and jet fighters were constant throughout that dawn. At sunrise we all came out of the house’s basement and sought for a protected position outside, in order to witness the “aerial display”. That was a unique occasion to see, first hand, a real “air to ground” combat operation, relatively close to the targets, without being targeted. The Serbian positions were up in the hills surrounding Sarajevo, just a few kilometers away from our UNMO house; hence we had perfect “line of sight” to the target area.

The A-10 – Thunderbolt II – known as “Warthogs”, were flying in circles up above Sarajevo. They at no more than 5.000 feet (1.600 meters) above ground, which meant that the Serbian air defense missiles had already been destroyed; otherwise they would be flying much higher. They were making wide circles, like a flock of predatory big birds, in a Combat Air Patrol (CAP) attitude, looking for a prey to strike down below.

Spaced apart, one A-10 would take turn and dived towards the hills surrounding Sarajevo, aiming the VRS positions and opened fire. We could distinctively hear the sound of the 30 mm “Avenger” cannon bursts. It seemed the noise of a powerful motorbike, making speed-up accelerations in the skies. The sound of the cannon overlapped the noise of the aircraft’s twin turbines. The Avenger cannon had seven barrels rotating each time a projectile was fired. Each burst couldn’t be longer than two seconds, hence the sensation of multiple speed-up accelerations. In each two seconds burst the A-10 cannon fired 140 rounds straight into its target. Each bullet was the size of a king size tooth paste tube, with a “jacked” of depleted uranium able pierce almost all types of armor.

A-10 firing the Avenger cannon – photo Pixabay

But the Warthogs’ attacks also had a visual characteristic. Each burst of the Avenger left in the sky a trail of white smoke from the burned gunpowder. The sequential one or two seconds bursts, seemed to be writing in Morse Code up in the blue sky.

Such a scene, with several A-10 overhead, was like an aerobatic team with smokes-on, over Sarajevo.

The Serbs were not enjoying the show … at all. On the target area, it was hell. The impacts of the cannon rounds on the hill side provoked sparks, flames, clouds of dust and smoke. Some rounds ricocheted back into the air, still incandescent.

Due to the high concentration of cannon rounds, the inclination of the hills and the movement of the aircraft, it seemed there was a worm climbing fast up hill, until it hit the target and something exploded. There were large pine trees jumping up in midair, as if they were tiny toothpicks.

After each dive, the A-10 pilots rolled out, in a demanding pull up, while offering a last air show of fireworks, deploying their defensive missile countermeasures – the flares. It was a precautionary measure for an eventual man-portable air-defense system (MANPADS) missile.

A-10 pull-up with flares in Bosnia – photo by Carlos Oliveira

In the south-western parts of Sarajevo, towards Lukavica’s location, we could see thick columns of dark smoke reaching out to the air. Those were the results of F-16 airstrikes with guided bombs, from high altitudes up above. The F-16 could be heard but hardly seen. They were too small, too fast, flying too high and their grey camouflage would hide them from eye sight.

NATO was doing “Peace Enforcement” and the Serbs were on a “hide and defend” mode, which was something they were not accustomed to do; hence, they were not very good at it. That day was the beginning of the end of the Serbian Army (VRS) supremacy in Bosnia Herzegovina.

O Túnel de Sarajevo

Durante o conflito na Bósnia Herzegovina (1992/1995), a Cidade de Sarajevo esta cercada pelas forças Sérvias (VRS), que dominavam os cimos dos montes que rodeavam a zona urbana. Contudo, havia um monte que as forças muçulmanas (ABiH) tinham conseguido ardilosamente subtraído ao domínio Sérvio: – o Monte Igman. O problema era que o sopé do Monte Igman que dava acesso à Cidade, ficava na zona de Butmir, no vale onde estava o Aeroporto de Sarajevo. Isso significava que, para entrarem ou saírem de Sarajevo pelo Monte Igman, as pessoas tinham de atravessar a zona aberta do Aeroporto, que era constantemente flagelada pelos snipers e artilharia Sérvia.

Em termos práticos, embora tivesse passado a haver um ponto de entrada na Cidade, Sarajevo continuava cercada, com os seus acessos controlados pelos Sérvios. A única forma que os habitantes de Sarajevo tinham para atravessar o Aeroporto, …, era por baixo dele. Desta forma, decidiram construir um túnel, que ligasse a zona norte de Dobrinja, com a zona sul de Butmir e o sopé do Monte Igman, atravessando na perpendicular o subsolo das estradas de acesso, da pista e dos caminhos de rolagem do Aeroporto de Sarajevo, numa extensão superior a um quilómetro; e assim foi feito. Fizeram um túnel estreito, com um teto mais baixo que a altura de um homem.

Com a existência do túnel, cujas entradas/saídas eram mantidas em segredo a fim de não serem alvo da artilharia Sérvia, o cerco da Cidade passou a ter um “furo”. As provisões de armas e mantimentos vindas do exterior podiam entrar, em pequenas quantidades e transportadas à mão; assim como as pessoas também passaram a poder entrar e sair em pequenas quantidades (até porque o Governo Muçulmano não autorizava que a Cidade fosse evacuada).

**O famoso Túnel de Sarajevo – foto de Jerry Tuomioja**

Porém, construir o túnel não terá sido o único desafio. Manter aquela infra-estrutura aberta e operacional revelou-se uma tarefa hercúlea. Devido a ficar situado no sopé de um Monte, com as águas a escorrerem constantemente para o vale; assim como ao facto de passar por baixo de um aeroporto que, embora pontualmente, recebia aviões de porte considerável, os terrenos onde o túnel tinha sido construído abatiam com regularidade, enterrando que lá estivesse a passar no momento. Por outro lado, o túnel não era dotado de qualquer tipo de extracção de ar, nem (no início) era provido de electricidade, pelo que a travessia daquela extensão considerável, muitas vezes com água de inundações, era muito penosa. Não raras vezes os transeuntes menos atléticos colapsaram por exaustão e falta de ar.

A construção do Túnel de Sarajevo está intrinsecamente ligada à história recente da Cidade, numa demonstração de determinação pela sobrevivência e coragem dos seus habitantes. Anos mais tarde uma parte do túnel foi recuperada e está aberta ao público, na saída de Butmir, como um dos pontos turísticos de Sarajevo.

News media War Correspondents in Bosnia – “If it bleeds, it leads”

By the end of November 1995, when people were already starting to walk around in Sarajevo’s streets, due to the recent Cease Fire Agreement, I noticed a marble plaque on a wall, at Marshal Tito’s Avenue, that said:

–“Truth was the first casualty on the fratricide war of Bosnia”.

It was said that the plaque had been put there by a small group of Sarajevo’s intellectuals, who had managed to elude the snipers.

The origin of that famous phrase is attributed to the US Senator Hiram Johnson (1918), when he referred to the misinformation campaigns during WW I, and the way it influenced the results on the battlefield.

The very same phrase applied perfectly to the ex-Yugoslavian conflicts. Truth had been suffocated under the political arguments of each opposing faction. The Serbs had lost the media/information battle, and that made all the difference in the result of Bosnia’s (and Krajina) war. In modern times, one could win all battles and still lose the war, if he couldn’t tell his version of the story; fast. The Bosnian muslin understood it, and dominated the media battle field; thus influencing the decisions in the confrontation lines. The way to deal with warfare had evolved; once more.

The problem was that news media journalism had not evolved with the same rhythm of the available (communications) tools. Satellite communications demanded life and constant flow of information; and the audiences what an hourly update of what was going on in the battlefield. However, no even the military operations had such a high rhythm. After each combat, or skirmish, the fighting grounds normally enter a quiet phase, were there’s nothing to report about. Not on the military Situation Report (SITREP) neither on the news media report; but the demand for an update persists.

The absence of “Breaking News”, on an hourly basis, combined with the political agenda of the news media channels, were putting a tremendous pressure on the editors back home, and they made sure to transfer that pressure to the reporters on Bosnia’s grounds. The “war correspondents” had to feed their bosses with some “stuff” to broadcast or print; and that’s what they did … they looked for “stuff”; and fast, even if that distorted the information. Reporting first became more relevant than reporting better; and it would have to have a touch of dramatics (because that’s what the audiences wanted). The new mantra was:

–“If it beads, it leads”.

It was a mixture of information and (sadistic) entertainment – and that’s how INFOTAINMENT was borne.

The presence of war correspondents on the fighting grounds was just another characteristic of the battlefield reported on the daily briefings; like it was the meteorology, the battle order, or the daily flight schedule. There was nothing anyone could do about it; apart from being fit to operate, and carry-on under those conditions.

Bósnia 95 – “Turismo de Guerra”

Em Agosto de 1995, em plena guerra da Bósnia, assisti a algo que ainda não tinha visto – “Turismo de Guerra”. Tudo começou numa patrulha sobre o Monte Igman (acessos a Sarajevo) quando percorria um trilho que ainda não tinha frequentado. No carro da ONU seguiam também outros dois Observadores Militares (UNMO) e um intérprete. Segundo o intérprete, aquele era o caminho mais rápido para sair de Igman. O piso, em terra batida, era péssimo e estávamos a levantar mais pó que uma tempestade de areia. Nas bermas começaram a surgir trincheiras guarnecidas por soldados do Exército (muçulmano) da Bósnia Herzegovina – ABiH. Para minha admiração, junto às posições de trincheiras estavam algumas carrinhas de venda ambulante. Porém, o que me deixava desconcertado no cenário, era a presença de uma quantidade de civis a tirar fotos aos combatentes. Estupefacto, perguntei o que era aquilo, e alguém dentro do carro respondeu:

– “É uma excursão de “Turismo de Guerra”. A nova moda da Europa!”

– “Turismo de Guerra”?!? Isto parece o intervalo nas filmagens de um épico de Hollywood, onde os atores fazem uma pausa para uma cervejinha e um hotdog.” – Repliquei.

Tradução: ***“à vossa direita poderão ver uma posição defensiva do ABiH; na próxima paragens haverá uma demonstração de snipers Sérvios”.***

Eu estava chocado com os turistas de guerra, mas o nosso camarada Belga, um UNMO veterano dos Balcãs, explicou que aquele conceito era o renascer de algo antigo. De acordo com os seus pergaminhos da História terá sido na Batalha de Waterloo que apareceram os primeiros espectadores a assistir aos combates, de uma forma organizada. Isso fazia com que os Belgas fossem considerados os primeiros turistas de guerra europeus.

Entretanto, as máquinas fotográficas voltaram-se para nós e dois indivíduos, com sotaque holandês, aproximaram-se do carro perguntando como estava a situação em Sarajevo. Coincidentemente, o terceiro UNMO dentro do carro era exactamente Holandês e respondeu-lhes, direto em Flamengo, algo que não vou reportar mas que seria a versão vernácula de:

– “Hó meu … vai bugiar”.

Arrancámos sem estardalhaço e sem repreender os “turistas” para não provocar os soldados, que tinham as armas carregas e estavam a usufruir dos seus 15 minutos de fama. Quem sabe se, ao final daquele dia, alguns daqueles ABiH não terão sobrevivido para contar a história.

To Be seen or not To Be seen, that is the Question.

“Visibility” is the basic difference in the attitude of a tactical combatant and that of a peacekeeper. It may even be the same person, using the same hardware; but the behavior changes considerably. Acting with “visibility” is an important part of that change.

– “The combatant wants to see without being seen, while the peacekeeper wants to see and also to be seen.”

In UN operations, that is also applied. If it is a Peacekeeping operation (Article 6 of the UN Charter) the blue helmets will be tasked to verify peace agreements and separation lines, therefore they want to see and they want to be seen by the opposing factions, not only as a deterrence tactic but also as an assurance of UN support to their well-being.

In the other hand, if the UN mission is a Peace Enforcement operation (Article 7 of the UN Charter), then combat engagements are on the table and the blue helmets will act as combatants, wishing to see but not to be see; until, of course, the situation is solved, and they should pass to Peacekeeping mode.

Snow cleaners in Luanda – Inspiration for a cartoonist

October 1992 – In a C-130 flight, that took over 20 hours (with two technical stops of one hour in Cape Verde and Saint Tomé & Prince) we flown from Lisbon (Portugal) to Luanda (Angola). When the Hercules finally reached the vertical of Luanda, the pilot made a wide traffic pattern, which permitted us to have a good look of Angola’s Capital. The City Center was made of nice avenues, with beautiful colonial villas and tall buildings bordering the seaside. Beyond that it was a never-ending musseque; a confusing huddle of small houses made of clay and zinc sheets roofs. Over 70% of Luanda’s two million inhabitants lived there.

During landing, I noticed that Luanda’s International Airport was militarized, with lots of communication and radar antennas alongside with warfare paraphernalia distributed between the taxiways and the runway. However, the equipment that attracted my attention the most were three rusty vehicles, standing still beyond the aircraft apron tarmac. I felt I knew what those vehicles were; but I could not correlate the object with the situation. I was facing one of those surrealist scenes that moved against the stereotype. Something like a ship stranded in plain desert, which got me confused and very curious.

When we disembarked there was a small delegation of the United Nations and the Portuguese Embassy waiting for the group of ten Portuguese Air Force Officers, selected to run the United Nations air campaign for Angola’s first free elections.

I asked one of the Embassy military staff members what were those vehicles, rusting on the tall grass, which seemingly haven’t been used for a very long time.

– “Those are snow-cleaners from the Soviet aid to Angola”. – Someone answered.

–“So that’s what it is … but … snow-cleaners?! In Angola? – I asked, controlling myself not to laugh and offend someone.

–“Yes, of course” – Replied my interlocutor – “For the Soviet any International Airport worth of that category had to have snow-cleaner … the geographic latitude was a mere detail. They have sent a lot of equipment to help Angola. Apparently the snow-cleaners were on the Airport aid kit.”

Obviously those machines were never used (at least not for its original purposes) and were rotting on the same spot they were unloaded. These “out of context” machines became the surrealistic push I needed to start drawing cartoons, and writing mission logs, in every mission I made throughout my military carrier. Something that latter on was of particular use, because in Peace Support Operation one is not supposed to take pictures, in order not to be accused of intelligence gathering for the opposing faction. Those mission logs and cartoons (that I still keep) are the living memory of many, many, weird but interesting situations that I would like to share with you.

Os media na guerra da Bósnia – “If it bleeds it leads”.

No final do mês de novembro de1995, quando já se passeava pelas ruas de Sarajevo devido ao recente Acordo de Cessar Fogo, reparei numa placa de mármore, fixada num prédio de esquina ao final da Avenida Marechal Tito, que dizia:

– “A verdade foi a primeira vítima da guerra fratricida nos Balcãs”.

Tinha lá sido colocada, no ano anterior, por um pequeno grupo de intelectuais que conseguiram iludir os snipers. A origem desta frase é atribuída ao Senador Americano Hiram Johnson (1918), quando se referiu à Primeira Guerra Mundial e ao peso que a desinformação, a censura e a propaganda tiveram sobre os resultados das batalhas.

O paradigma aplicava-se na perfeição à Guerra da Bósnia. A verdade estava sufocada debaixo dos argumentos políticos de cada uma das fações. Os sérvios tinham perdido a Batalha da Informação, e isso fez toda a diferença nas Guerras da Ex-Jugoslávia. Nos tempos modernos, podiam-se ganhar todas as campanhas, e ainda assim perder a guerra, se não se soubesse contar a história; e depressa. Os Muçulmanos Bósnios entenderam isso e dominaram o assunto mediático, influenciando as decisões do campo de batalha. A forma de fazer a Guerra tinha evoluido (de novo).

O problema era que o jornalismo não tinha evoluído ao mesmo ritmo das suas próprias ferramentas. As comunicações via satélite exigiam notícias actualizadas a cada hora que passasse. Contudo, nem sequer as operações militares tinham um ritmo tão intenso. Após terminar um combate, normalmente entrava-se num período onde havia muito pouco ou nada a reportar; mas a exigência de mais notícias mantinha-se.

A ausência de “Breaking news” a toda a hora, conjugada com as agendas políticas de cada canal informativo, exercia uma tremenda pressão sobre as respectivas redações, as quais passavam a responsabilidade para os jornalistas no terreno. Para “calar” o chefe os repórteres buscavam qualquer coisa, muitas vezes provocando distorção na qualidade da informação. Noticiar primeiro passou a ter mais importância do que noticiar melhor. Não só isso, procuravam explorar todas e cada situação para publicar histórias que vendessem jornais e tempo de antena. Dizia-se mesmo entre os capacetes azuis

– “Se (a história) sangrar, lidera (as notícias)” – (If it bleeds it leads).

A presença de jornalistas passou a fazer parte dos briefings de caracterização do campo de batalha, tal qual faziam parte o posicionamento das forças beligerantes, a morfologia do terreno ou a meteorologia. A única coisa que os capacetes azuis podiam fazer era estarem preparados para operar naquelas condições.