I remember sitting in the garden of the Hotel Euro in Mostar, a place which was reserved, at the time, for the Masters of the Universe - you knew this because of the armored cars parked out front—listening to some American state department official expounding on his role as a “peacekeeper” to the people sitting at his table and anyone in the immediate vicinity who was unfortunate enough not to be able to ignore him. The conversation began with a discussion of which political groups the Americans were going to promote in the New Multi-Culti Bosnia, which at the time looked pretty shabby because of the recent civil war. I remember one high-rise apartment building not far from the Neredva River, one of the most beautiful rivers in the world, which seemed to be leaking sofa stuffing as the result of taking one too many artillery hits. Our Master of the Universe was not going to promote Group X because they had a bust of Ante Pavelic, former head of the Ustashe, in their headquarters. I never got around to hearing just who he was going to promote, probably because he didn’t know himself, but also because the topic of conversation suddenly changed.