That evening, Tuzla’s promenade was buzzing with young people, and nothing foreshadowed the horror that was to come. But it didn’t take long for the night to turn bloody. A shell fired from the positions of the Army of Republika Srpska on Mount Ozren exploded in the heart of the city. The blast, which struck the area known as Kapija, killed 71 young people and wounded more than 150 others. The Kapija massacre is considered one of the deadliest individual attacks on civilians during the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina, and once again, the images of the dead and wounded circled the globe. Tuzla was plunged into mourning, and—as always—only one question remained: what kind of mind is capable of such an act?
Responsibility for the Kapija massacre was assigned to Novak Đukić, former general in the Army of Republika Srpska and commander of the Tactical Group “Ozren,” which operated artillery positions above Tuzla. The “Đukić” case remains one of the key points of tension between Serbia and Bosnia and Herzegovina, consistently pushing reconciliation efforts to the margins.
Foto: RSE / Novak Đukić
Đukić was arrested in Banja Luka on 7 November 2007 by order of the Prosecutor’s Office of Bosnia and Herzegovina, under suspicion of having ordered the attack on Tuzla. The trial lasted several years, and on 12 June 2009, the Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina found Đukić guilty of war crimes against the civilian population and sentenced him to 25 years in prison. The following year, an appeal was filed, and during that time, Đukić was free. He used the opportunity to flee to Serbia, thereby evading the execution of the sentence. Four years later, Bosnia’s Constitutional Court ordered a retrial due to the misapplication of criminal law, which could have affected the length of the sentence. Đukić failed to appear again. It borders on absurdity that Đukić is now being tried in Serbia, where the proceedings are endlessly delayed. The next farcical hearing has been scheduled for two years from now.
The Tuzla Kapija case is far from the only unpunished wartime crime, but it is undoubtedly one of the most prominent. Despite an international arrest warrant, Serbia persistently refuses to extradite Đukić to the Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Not only has he not been handed over to justice, but he also regularly appears on TV shows that hardly qualify as journalism. The reason behind this is clear to anyone paying attention.
As is often the case, escaping legal responsibility is not enough. The crime must be repeatedly denied in an effort to “cleanse” a name that was “unjustly” condemned. Đukić claims his name should also be inscribed on Tuzla’s Kapija, as he too is, in his view, a victim of a rigged trial. We’ve seen this playbook before: so-called “independent investigations” of the Kapija massacre are reminiscent of the earlier parade of “experts” who once claimed with absolute certainty that the Old Bridge in Mostar wasn’t destroyed by the Croatian Defence Council (HVO). Like the flat earth theory, many bought into the nonsense—until several years ago, when video footage of the bridge’s destruction was publicly released. It’s not difficult to spot the similarities between the attempts to distort the truth about the Old Bridge and those now directed at Kapija—both seek to shift blame to a different “side” or individual.
Foto: Ida Dugalić
And yet, amid all this darkness and drama, Tuzla stands out as a bright point of light. Rightly recognised as the most inclusive city in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Tuzla maintained its character even during the darkest times of the Second World War. One of the brightest examples of this spirit was Imam Muhamed Šefket Kurt, who prevented the burning of the Cathedral of the Dormition of the Mother of God, saving worshippers from certain death. Even after the massacre in the very centre of the city, Tuzla has remained a model for all former Yugoslav cities when it comes to turning coexistence from a theory into practice.
The brightest point of light today lies in the young people who gather almost every year to commemorate the anniversary of the Kapija massacre. These are youth from Bosnia and Herzegovina and the wider region who do more than just remember—they take a principled stand against forgetting and denial. Their presence in the very place where youth were once killed is one of the clearest signs that the culture of remembrance will not simply yield to revisionism. Any society that can count on them has every reason to be proud.
This article was produced in cooperation with Pro Peace BiH.
