Following 16 years on the run, Mladic was arrested in a Serbian village in 2011 and transferred to the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) in The Hague.
Ratko Mladić is dead. But his death has reopened one of the darkest chapters in the Balkans, a chapter many believed had been closed three decades ago. Mladić was the commander of the Bosnian Serb Army during the Bosnian War. He was convicted of genocide in Srebrenica, crimes against humanity and war crimes, and was also held responsible for the siege of Sarajevo. After being indicted in 1995, he went into hiding and disappeared from public view. Following 16 years on the run, he was arrested in a Serbian village in 2011 and transferred to the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) in The Hague. His trial began in May 2012, and in November 2017 he was found guilty on 10 of the 11 counts against him and sentenced to life imprisonment.
The statements coming from Serbia immediately after his death in The Hague on 26 August, however, have turned the debate into something far larger than a question of funeral arrangements. Serbia’s Justice Minister Nenad Vujić announced that, should Mladić be buried in Serbia, he would be given state and military honours. As if that were not enough, Serbian President Aleksandar Vučić directed his criticism not at the crimes for which Mladić had been convicted, but at the international tribunal in The Hague.
The political roots of Serbia’s elite
The issue here is not simply how the past is remembered. It is also about how contemporary Serbia defines itself and how it uses the past for present-day political purposes. Mladić may now be a historical figure, but the political language he represented remains very much alive. And not only in the Balkans. Variations of it can now be found almost everywhere.
There is little doubt that a significant part of Serbia’s current political elite emerged from the nationalist atmosphere of the 1990s. Vučić’s own political career has its roots in that period. What we are witnessing, therefore, is not simply a question of confronting the past—or, more troublingly, embracing its crimes. It also tells us how far today’s political establishment is prepared to go in defending its own historical roots. And in an international environment increasingly shaped by military power and geopolitical competition, it tells us something else as well.
This is not only about Mladić
Belgrade’s preference, however, is not to confront the past or draw lessons from its crimes. Instead, a more useful and politically effective narrative has emerged. It does not explicitly claim that “Serbs committed no crimes.” It works more subtly than that. The argument is that “everyone committed crimes, but only the Serbs were punished.”
The centre of the debate is thereby shifted. More than 8,000 Bosniak men and boys killed at Srebrenica recede into the background. In their place comes Serbia, portrayed as a country humiliated and treated unjustly by the West. Within this narrative, Mladić can be transformed from a convicted war criminal into a victim and, in some circles, even into a symbol of national resistance.
This is precisely where Vučić’s political skill becomes apparent. He does not even need to deny Srebrenica outright. When Srebrenica is discussed, it is enough to place Serbia’s victimhood, rather than the victims of the massacre, at the centre of the conversation. This approach consolidates nationalist voters at home while feeding anti-Western sentiment. At a time when economic problems, democratic backsliding and institutional erosion are increasingly debated, the narrative of a “nation threatened from outside” also becomes an extremely useful political instrument.
Why is this dangerous for the Balkans?
The problem is that this politics does not remain within Serbia’s borders. Despite the passage of time, Bosnia and Herzegovina remains an extremely fragile political structure. Political and social ties between Republika Srpska and Belgrade remain strong. The Kosovo question remains unresolved. Borders in the Balkans may largely have been settled, but memories of the wars remain very much alive. The state-sponsored glorification of convicted war criminals should therefore not be dismissed as a symbolic gesture. On the contrary, it is another large log thrown onto a fire that has never entirely gone out.
The Balkans’ recent history has already demonstrated how quickly narratives of historical victimhood, ethnic nationalism and glorified wartime figures can become instruments of political mobilisation. This is why Srebrenica is not merely a great tragedy belonging to the past. It remains one of the most sensitive fault lines affecting ethnic relations within Bosnia, ties between Serbia and Republika Srpska, and nationalism across the region. Giving Mladić a funeral with state honours would mean deliberately placing pressure on that fault line once again.
Why is Europe not responding more forcefully?
There is also a geopolitical dimension. At a time when the possibility of further Russian moves against the West and a broader NATO-Russia confrontation is once again being discussed, the strategic importance of the Western Balkans has increased. Serbia is one of the region’s most important countries. It is indispensable to any settlement involving Kosovo. It has considerable influence in Bosnia and Herzegovina. It maintains historical and political ties with Russia while simultaneously cultivating close relations with China. In short, its influence extends far beyond what its material power alone would suggest.
President Vučić, a highly experienced political operator, understands the bargaining power this creates. He signals to the West that excessive pressure could push Serbia closer to Moscow or Beijing. He shows Moscow that Serbia has not completely aligned itself with the West. At home, meanwhile, he cultivates the image of a leader who refuses to bow to Western pressure. The result is something resembling geopolitical immunity.
The cost of Europe’s balancing act
Europe wants democracy, the rule of law and a genuine reckoning with the past. But it also wants stability in the Balkans and seeks to contain Russian influence in the region. To achieve this, it does not want to lose Belgrade entirely. And this is precisely where the problem begins.
Serbia’s growing strategic importance should require Belgrade to behave more responsibly. In practice, however, the opposite often happens. Strategic importance generates political tolerance.
The real issue, therefore, is not simply whether Mladić receives a state funeral. That would undoubtedly be deeply troubling. The more fundamental problem is that Serbia appears to believe it can take such a step without paying any serious international price.
More than thirty years have passed since Srebrenica. Europe said “never again” in the aftermath of those years.
It is precisely that promise that is being tested today.
Because remembering war crimes is not only about commemorating their victims. It also means accepting that there must be a political cost to turning those responsible for such crimes into heroes.
If that cost disappears, the past is not forgotten.
More dangerously, it becomes usable again.
