Vulliamy chose not to include graphic accounts of the violence experienced by the victims of genocide/"ethnic cleansing" except as context, as he wanted to instead focus on the victims as individuals rather than only the crimes committed against then. He succeeded; no detail included was unnecessaril. Yet what he has written about is one of the most intense depictions of attrocity that I have read, probably because he spends no time on trying to convince you that concentration camps are bad or prioritising making readers feel bad about what happened over his portrayal of the people that he's come to understand.
The character of the victim is complex and difficult to portray, as it carries with it many assumptions. A victim is presumed to be innocent, as otherwise they would deserve their fate, and innocence carries with it an assumed righteousness. A victim is also powerless, otherwise they would not be a victim, and therefore any strength is cause for suspicion. A survivor (as much an archetype as the victim) is an almost victim who avoids the shame of being afflicted by their circumstances, thereby betraying a secret prejudice that many hold, that to be a victim is a shameful thing. As with victims, to be a survivor is a double-edged sword: emphasising the strength of character to overlook the horror of trauma, as though this negates the impact.
Throughout my life I have witnessed in many manifestations the inability to recognise that an event can be so horrible, and so traumatic, that it has shaped the direction of someone's life and coloured their experience thereafter. Many people find this to be an admission of weakness, as though it's shameful to be affected by your own life circumstances. Others find it insulting. The common theme, though, is the assumption that it's impossible to be affected by something without allowing yourself to be defined (and subjugated) by it.
In The War Is Dead, Long Live the War, Vulliamy walks past all of this by commiting to understand each person featured in this book with honesty and compassion, and by understanding the shape of each person's life. He portrays each person as a fully-realised individual with a complex life that has been intruded on and violated by circumstances beyond any one individual. He finds a remarkable balance between understanding that the attrocities committed against a group of people are carried out individually, one at a time, over and over again - while never losing sight of the wider circumstances in which the Yugoslav war happened and was allowed to occur.
I truly appreciate the strength of character that Vulliamy has shown in his endeavour to understand every person in this book and portray their challenges in navigating a life disrupted by war, torture, rape, displacement and genocide. This book understands that survival is not a passive action, and seeks to understand the dimensions of these choices. Attention is paid not only to the crimes committed during war, but also to Serbia's continuous denial of the attrocities committed and what impact this has had on their victims as they attempt to continue onwards with their life. While acknowledgement would not reverse actions of the past, the refusal of Serbia to engage with what happened has a continuous impact on the victims, an aspect that is looked at closely.
My one criticism is in reference to the Holocaust. It wouldn't be possible to discuss genocide in Europe without considering it, and anyone discussing such a complex topic as genocide and its effects on those who suffered would look to the past to understand the present. Nevertheless, he writes as though with a fear of diminishing the horror of the Holocaust by acknowledging what happened in Bosnia as genocide, which I find distasteful. I assume that Vulliamy didn't want to step on any toes, or to somehow cheapen the Holocaust by implying that anything could be compared to it. In some respects I understand why he would feel the need to do this: there are Holocaust deniers who seek to intentionally do just that, so due dilligence is the responsible approach when speaking about about such an important subject. Regardless of his intentions, it comes across less as due diligence and more like an unexamined fear that any comparison would be an insult to the memory of the victims of the Holocaust.
There were genocides before the Holocaust and since; the first concentration camps were not constructed by the Nazis, as Vulliamy himself acknowledges. None of this diminishes the significance of the Holocaust. A book that thoroughly demonstrates how the issue of who is allowed to be a victim is a contentious matter should be more mindful of the implications of seeking permission from one victimised people before acknowledging the genocide of another.
It is in many people's interest not to label anything genocide, as to do so would require intervention under international law. This was the case in Bosnia; what happened was not called genocide by authorities, and therefore there were no outside legally binding forces demanding that someone interfere. The lack of reflection about why it was that he felt the need to seek permission from Holocaust survivors before accepting what happened in Bosnia as genocide stands out to me as an oversight in anotherwise incredible book about victimhood and the politics of survival.