Sarajevo's reproach.

• Author: Kaldor, Mary
• Position: Bosnia-Herzegovina

Welcome to the Twenty-first Century," said Haris Pasovic, the director of Sarajevo's main theater. "Come and see the beginning of the end of Western civilization." Many people reiterated this theme during my recent visit to the Bosnian capital. "Fukuyama talked about the end of history," said Hirvo, a writer. "This is it. Sarajevo is Europe's future."

The international community's failure to save Sarajevo and Bosnia-Herzegovina is a monumental betrayal of fundamental human values. Sarajevo was, and even after almost a year-and-a-half of continuous shelling is, a model of multiethnic and multicultural society. The ruined city is still a jumble of Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman architecture; mosques, churches, and synagogues stand side by side. Mixed marriages, syncretic traditions, mutual celebrations of festivals take place even now.

More importantly, the city is secular, irreverent, cultured, and, as Sarajevans like to say, "European." Theaters and concerts are packed, more than before the war. Art exhibitions and seminars are held on such sonorous themes as "Death and Sacrifice" or "Art and War." I saw a naughty English comedy performed by candlelight. It was called How to Get Rid of Your Wife, and the audience rocked with laughter as wives, homosexuals, and policemen frolicked about the darkened stage. "What's it got to do with Sarajevo?" one of our party asked. "Everything," said Haris. "It's funny."

All this has been preserved, to some degree, despite the war and the siege. Every day people are killed and wounded; in one recent week, thirty-one people were killed and 194 wounded. Since the beginning of the siege, 8,871 people have been killed in Sarajevo, including 1,401 children, and 16,660 people wounded. It is dangerous to walk in the streets - not only because you might get killed but also because you might be picked up by one of the more fearsome Bosnian commanders to dig trenches while exposed to Serbian fire. There are thirty-six different armies in town and crime is rife.

There is no water, no coal, no electricity. Humanitarian aid is completely inadequate. During my visit, the monthly rations arrived; they consisted of one kilo of flour, half a kilo of rice, half a liter of oil, one can of beef, three bars of soap, and a packet of biscuits for those over sixty. The black market flourishes - much can be purchased for foreign currencies or for cigarettes. People are using up their lifetime savings; as one resident put it, living in Sarajevo is like being on a very expensive holiday. Every building has been damaged. Many trees have been cut down for fuel. My friend Zdravko, a law professor, soaks the pages of his books in water and rolls them out to make fuel for cooking.

Yet all the same, the social fabric survives. It is a mystery how everyone looks so clean and elegant. Clothes are ironed, hair washed, faces shaved, and houses and offices spotless. Despite the crime and the black market, there is a strong sense of community, with...