Ако за тебе русофоб е този който смята че всички хора са равни и не признава всякакви идеи за "особеното" предназначение на нацията, то можеш веднага да ме запишеш русофоб. Ако за тебе сърбофоб е този, който е против комунистическия национал-шовинизъм на Милошевич, можеш веднага да ме запишеш като сърбофоб. Ако за тебе антисемит е всеки който отрича месианските идеи на религиозните евреи, които смятат че те са нацията която ще спаси света, можеш веднага да ме запишеш антисемит. Това което те кара да ме наричаш с всякакви имена е че ти не можеш да имаш еднакво отношение към различните народи и затова смяташ, че всички са като тебе. Що се отнася до мен, ето ти една хубава от Globe and Mail, за да почетеш какво ще става по-нататък. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The world is developing a conscience Action often comes late, if at all. But Kosovo and East Timor suggest a new direction Wednesday, December 29, 1999 Globe&Mail On Dec. 19, in the second last week of the year 1999, British commandos stopped a car on the road in northwestern Bosnia. Inside was Stanislav Galic, a Serb general who led the brutal siege of Sarajevo from 1992 to 1995. The commandos smashed the window, dragged Gen. Galic out of the car and pulled a hood over his head. A few hours later he was in a jail cell in The Hague, home of the United Nations International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, where he will soon face trial for "crimes of war and crimes against humanity." The acts that Gen. Galic stands accused of committing -- shelling a city, sending snipers to terrorize and kill its citizens -- are nothing new in the world. But the world is changing. In the closing days of this blood-soaked century, something quite wonderful is happening: The world is developing a conscience. Only a few years ago, a little brute like Gen. Galic would have scuttled away untouched from the scene of his crimes, and no one would have thought of going after him. Atrocities committed inside the borders of a sovereign country were regarded in the same way that wife abuse once was in Canada -- as a domestic matter. As long as a country did not invade another, what it did to its own people was nobody's business. Outsiders might wince, but they would not interfere. Suddenly, all of that has begun to change. Around the world, people are saying: Enough. No more mass murder. No more torture. No more impunity. What happens to the people of Sarajevo or Kigali or Dili is everybody's business. We won't turn our heads any more. We won't let the killers hide behind the skirts of national sovereignty. Someone must pay. Consider the fate of Augusto Pinochet of Chile, who went to London to take tea with Margaret Thatcher and now finds himself under house arrest, awaiting possible extradition to Spain for the torture of Chileans in the 1970s. Or consider Slobodan Milosevic, charged with war crimes last year in the midst of the war over Kosovo. That war was itself a sign of the new mood. The North Atlantic Treaty Organization bombed Mr. Milosevic's Serbia because of his attacks on ethnic Albanians in Kosovo, a matter that just a few years ago would have been considered a purely domestic dispute. This was a war fought not to preserve international peace or to protect national interests, but to defend human rights. The same motive lay behind the international intervention in East Timor this September. Behind these remarkable events stands an army of committed individuals in hundreds of human-rights groups around the world. Amnesty International, the mother of human-rights groups, has a million members in more than 50 chapters. When international delegates met in Rome last year to set up an international criminal court -- another landmark for human rights -- 136 organizations went to lobby them. These groups are only the most visible sign of a profound worldwide change in attitude to human rights. In a world of satellite television and the Internet, news of mass murder and other atrocities travels around the globe in a flash, pricking consciences and opening wallets. When government-backed militias went on a rampage in East Timor this year, people around the world heard about it within hours or days, and governments rushed into action. Of course, the action often comes too late, if at all. When ethnic extremists launched a campaign of mass murder in Rwanda in 1994, the international community twiddled its thumbs as hundreds of thousands were killed. Similarly, when NATO bombed Serbia last spring, nearly a million Kosovo Albanians were forced to flee from the enraged and vengeful Serbs. For every place where the cavalry comes too late there are 10 where it never comes at all. When China's leaders sent soldiers into the streets around Tiananmen Square and killed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people, no one issued an indictment for their arrest. While NATO was rushing off to save the Albanians, civilians in Sierra Leone were being killed by the hundreds without a blink from the outside world. All the same, the change of attitude is important and real. The United Nations knows it failed in Rwanda, and this month it apologized for the failure. So, earlier, did the President of the United States. A guilty conscience may help us do better next time. It was guilt at the failure to stop the ethnic killing in Bosnia in the early 1990s that led NATO to act against ethnic killing in Kosovo in 1999. That we feel bad about the fate of people in faraway places is a sign that we are developing a sense of human solidarity that transcends national borders and ethnic differences. It is now a commonplace of international discourse that all human beings, wherever they live, whatever their race or religion, are entitled to certain basic rights and liberties. Establishing that principle was one of the great accomplishments of this century; putting it into practice is one of the great challenges of the next.