The Wings of Denial

This picture says everything. Peter Handke at a safari genocide in Srebrenica, a few months after the unprecedented crimes that took place in that country. The great European white poet is the front and centre, blocking the view of the city's sign in Cyrillic, which he apparently cannot read. In the background, we see some people, a car, an industrial company, houses and hills.

He's all dressed in black, as if he were saying: Here I am, the angel of death. The devilish twin of Bruno Ganz's character on the Wings of Dish, which sickens himself among mortals. But unlike the movie angels that co-designed, Handkes doesn't seem to do it for the people of the earth. As observo Jevad Karahasan [Dzevad Karahasan], in “travel to the rivers: Justice for Serbia can't be classified as a reminder of travel because the author is completely out of interest in local culture, customs and history. And let's not talk about the displaced and the dead. The only purpose of that little information he brings is to show Handken, to show he was there.

In 1994, Radovan Karadzic [Karadzic] invited his guest, Russian poet Edward Limonov, to his offices in Pale. During a tour of the front lines in Sarajevo, Limonov had fired an anti-aircraft weapon into the besieged city. In his book The Knights of Sarajevo, Semezdin Mehmedinovic, says Limonov came to Pale for “literary competition.” Someone might say that Handke went to Milosevic's funeral for the same reason. His eaulogy of the case says this:

“Bota, the so-called world, knows everything about Yugoslavia, Serbia. The world, the so-called world, knows everything about Slobodan Milosevic. The so-called world knows the truth... I don't know. I see. Listen. I feel. That's why I'm here today, near Yugoslavia, near Serbia, near Slobodan Milosevic. ”

Anyone who was subject to this colonial look will recognize this useless Solipsism, translates Periscope.

To Tony Morrison, the great American writer, the serious function of racism is a distraction. They were distracted into doing your job. Peter Hanke spends his time on smart self-exploitation and formal experimentation. As the Nobel committee says [in the argument for awarding], it explores “periphery and the specificity of human experience.” He uses his powerful European passport to travel to the fields of killing in the suburbs [Where the displaced countries are, and people in exile cannot return] and produce Selfie Word. Intellectuals and European institutions later proclaim its colonial Corps as representatives of European civilization. Thus, hierarchies are maintained. We, meanwhile, are forced to spend much time defending ourselves from such violence.

For Handken and his disciples, treating people from the Balkans as underhumans, denying genocide, mocking the victims of war, disposing our pain and counterfeiting our history, has little meaning and significance.

It should be emphasized that this has nothing to do with Handke's private opinions. He has been promoting the faithless, apologists and nationalist narrators about the Yugoslav Wars in his literary works for more than two decades. Enough was said about the <x0/art division by artist”. This man himself disagrees with the idea: “What I write and what I say cannot be shared. ”

“Like Bosniaks, Syrians, Albanians, we have no privilege of thinking about the names of Chomsky, Handkes and the color of their pens without knowing what these people thought and wrote to us. We are not privileged simply to disagree with them in academic or artistic form. We don't have the privilege of ignoring this job, not again.

To read the complete article written by Adnan Delaliq, Periscope invites you to click THESE.