Croatia
Srbska krajina: Blitzkrieg Oluja - one of the most successful military actions in European contemporary history

Despite the war raging in Croatia, a group of hairy youngsters was hitchhiking toward the ancient town of Pula, on the Adriatic coast, where the alternative festival Art & Music was taking place. Our youngsters were not worried. The northern part of the country, where they were heading to, was not damaged by the war. And, after all, the local media had announced it would soon end, hadn't they? What the hitchhikers didn't know is that not far from them, a huge military operation was about to begin. If they had been more careful, they would have noticed the massive convoys of mostly Western tourists that were leaving Croatia. Why? The Serbs had threatened to bomb all the strategic points and big towns in the rear..
Operation Oluja started on August 4, 1995 when the territory occupied by Serbians rebels and the Yugoslavian army since 1991 was bombed. The international community feared that a bloody battle between the strong, well-equipped Serbian forces and all available Croatian troops. At 5 a.m.., the attack spread on the whole frontline. Within three days, Knin, capital town od Srbska Krajina, was taken by the Croats. The place had a symbolic importance for the Serbs. Serbian communities settled in Knin as early as the 16th century, at the moment of the Ottoman invasions. Others had settled during the Federative Republic of Yugoslavia era (1943 – 1991). As the Croats were getting closer to Knin, the major part of the Serbian population fled to Serbia and Bosnia. Ethnic cleansing was unnecessary. The Croatian troops entered an empty city.
A few weeks before Operation was started, a Croatian-Serbian meeting on the highest political level had taken place. The two main interlocutors, Croatian president Franjo Tudjman and and Srbian president Slobodan Milošević, agreed the withdrawal of all elite Serbian forces to Bosnia (called to play an ominous role there, especially in Srebrenica). Only a bare minimum of Serbian forces and some stubborn Serbian civilians who refused to leave their home were left in Srbska Krajina.
Our hitchhikers could not enjoy the festival Art & Music for long. After several air raid alarms, it was cancelled on the second day. Soon, however, the happy news broke out: Knin had fallen, Knin was free again! The huge party began then. Convoys of cars, civilian and military, drove through the streets with flags. All the faces displayed pride. Some celebration gunshots were heard in the distance. The Croatian blitzkrieg had succeeded. People could now worship their army and their leader. They could yell: »Hail the strongest army in the world« and »Till Beograd«.

Mimara Potemkin Museum

Ante Topić Mimara is one of the most fascinating personas in the Balkans. He paces the history path as both hero and criminal. Years ago – I was still a student at the Art History department of the university of Ljubljana – I passed the doors of the Mimara Museum, a former gymnasium school (a huge and prestigious neo-classical building) with great expectations. I had read several turbulent articles in local newspapers and felt the urge to go to the crime scene. I needed to make it certain for myself the authenticity of art works displayed there. What then had aroused my suspicion? The fact that even in neighbor countries, no art historian had ever mentioned the Mimara Museum as a reference.
Ante Topić was born in the village of Kruščice, situated in the hinterland of the Dalmatian coast. Coming from a wealthy family, he went to Rome to study painting and restoration. Soon, he took advantage of his education and started a career of art collector and dealer. He was only 23. The post-Word War I misery offered an excellent background for his trade. The real Ante Topić is said to have died in 1928 in Rome.
The story would stop here without the appearance of Mirko Maratović, a childhood friend of Ante Topić. An ambitious man from Split, Maratović bought the identity of deceased Ante Topić. Mimara (as he was called, after the contraction of his names) was accused of the robbery of a precious gothic ebony diptych of Zagreb cathedral in the 20’ies.
During World War II, Mimara collaborated with the Nazis. He bought valuables from members of Jewish community to sell them to the Nazis. After the war, he bought them back from the same impoverished Nazi officers in Uruguay. Mimara was on the list of wanted persons by Interpol and the US State Department. Despite a luxurious life in broad daylight throughout Europe (Berlin, Munich, Salzburg, Paris and Tangier), he was arrested.
Mimara has donated his collection to the Republic of Croatia and the city of Zagreb in 1973 following a contract with Tito. The museum opened in 1987. It was said to possess the most prestigious artworks from Vienna to Istanbul. Here comes the question: are they authentic? Since years, the debate between his supporters and detractors is raging. On both sides, there are art historians and experts who use a variety of materials to prove their theories. The most uncertain part of Mimara’s collection is made of paintings by Rembrandt, Van Dyck, Velasquez, Murillo, Goya, Renoir, Degas, Delacroix, Rodin and even Michelangelo. Whereas Thomas P.F. Hoving, consultant of New York Metropolitan Museum, claims that Mimara was a fake art dealer, Croatian official experts claim that the paintings are authentic. Furthermore, Mimara’s most eager defender, Vesna Kusin, doesn’t see any moral question in the acquisition of Jewish and Nazi goods. She even considers it the proof of authenticity of the collection. One day, the Croatian nation will recognize the truth and be grateful to this great donator, she says.
My detective mission in Zagreb was unsuccessful. How can you prove that the paintings are authentic? Is it even the question? Apparently, when it comes to national interest, authenticity and morality are irrelevant. After all, how often do we question the museum collections of former colonial powers?