and the founding of the Pavelic puppetrnstate. The Croat regime also tried to rehabilitaternthe memory of some of the nationalistrnleaders most associated withrnthose ghastly years. The record of Croatrnterrorism therefore goes far in explainingrnSerbian reluctance to permit any of theirrnpeople to live under Croat rule, and therndesperate necessity to redraw frontiersrnaccordingly. This is the paramount explanationrnfor the horrors of “ethnicrncleansing.”rnThe Croat experience also suggests arnpoint that should never be forgotten inrnpolitical debate over American interventionrnin any of Europe’s burgeoning ethnicrnstruggles. Terrorism is a tactic, not arnmovement, and it is likely to spring fromrnany situation in which a group or partyrnfinds itself in a sufficiently desperaternplight, seeing no legitimate way to expressrnits grievances. In the 1990’s, therefore,rnwe are all too likely to see terroristrncampaigns launched by any one of arndozen nations that believes its existencernis at stake, ranging from Montenegrinsrnand Bosnians to Armenians and (perhapsrnmost likely) ethnic Hungarians.rnThe nations that once were known asrnthe Soviet Union, Yugoslavia, and Romaniarnmight therefore provide a basernfor international terrorism quite comparablernto the Palestinian experience of thern1970’s.rnIn the case of the Yugoslav peoples,rnthe Croat campaigns have left in place arnnetwork of arms, safe-houses, and funding,rnall merely waiting for the appropriaterncircumstances to reactivate the old militaryrngroups. In the event of a full-scalernmilitary confrontation between Serbiarnand Croatia, it is more than likely thatrnthe bloodshed will spill over into otherrncountries, with the United States andrnAustralia as likely to be affected as anyrnEuropean nation. And once Croat clandestinernforces are in play, it is quite certainrnthat the Serbs will respond in kind.rnThroughout the I970’s, there were repeatedrncharges that Yugoslav foreign intelligencern(UDBA) was seeking to controlrnthe terrorist threat by assassinatingrnCroat leaders in the nations in whichrnthey sought refuge, including the UnitedrnStates. Presumably, Serbian agents havernnow inherited most of the old UDBArnnetworks. In the I990’s, the ethnic warsrnof Eastern and Balkan Europe might wellrnbe fought out in the streets of Frankfurtrnand Sydney, Chicago and New York.rnThis prospect should be considered veryrncarefully by any government consideringrninvolvement or even armed interventionrnin the political morass of that region.rnObviously, the Croats are by no meansrnthe only villains of the Yugoslav disaster.rnThere are rights and wrongs on bothrnsides, though for some reason informationrnabout Serbian rights and Croatrnwrongs seems slow to penetrate to thernoutside world.rnPhilip Jenkins is a professor in thernAdministration of Justice Departmentrnat Pennsylvania State University.rnIs This America,rnor What?rnby Clinton W. TrowbridgernA Defense of Dwarf-TossingrnWe don’t weigh much: maybe 40,rn50 pounds. We’re light comparedrnto you. And that’s how it all gotrnstarted. Some big guy got mad at JoeyrnLaRoy down at MacNab’s Bar and Crill.rnHe picked him up—to shake him, that’srnall; but Joey bit him on the nose, and thernguy threw him clear across the room—rnthe way you would a cat. Joey bouncedrnoff the wall, which was 20 feet away, onrnthe opposite side of two tables (fortunatelyrnunoccupied at the time). He gotrnup and shook himself and started backrnfor more. But another big mick namedrnO’Malley grabbed him, yelled out, “Herernya go, Paddy,” and threw him back towardrnthe bar; right away everybody’srngrabbing us dwarfs and throwing usrnaround. Considering that MacNab’s is arnfavorite hangout of ours, it’s actuallyrnamazing this never happened before.rnIt didn’t last long. Maybe five minutes.rnMaeNab brought it to a halt byrnsetting everybody up with free beers, butrnit couldn’t have lasted much longer anyway.rnEven stevedores can’t throw usrnaround forever. The thing is, we all werernjust having a good time, all but Joey.rnAnd so we knew, right away, that wernwere on to something big. And we were.rnThe whole dwarf-throwing thing startedrnthat night at MacNab’s Bar and Grill onrnWater Street: May 8, 1987. Three yearsrnit lasted, a little more. Most of us gotrnrich.rnEirst thing we did was join the Teamsters.rnThat was my work. I was the rep.rnThey got us helmets, body padding, sixinch-rnthick mattresses on the floor, fourinch-rnthick ones on the walls, harnesses,rnpadded skateboards, overtime, doublernpay for after hours, insurance. Togetherrnwe made up a book of rules. ‘Cause,rnyou see, right away we were in big demand.rnWithin six months we were charteringrnour own planes. There were specialrnevents, tournaments, stars. Werndidn’t think anything of flying to thernCoast or Chicago twice a week. It wasrnnight work, you see. Sleep a few hours,rnthen get on the plane for Frisco, NewrnYork. Sure it was exhausting, but lookrnhow we were hauling it in. A thousandrnor more dollars in one night, not countingrnthe overtime. It got so big that oldrnguys were coming out of retirement,rnworking a couple hours a week and makingrnso much they had to take it under therntable so as not to lose their Social Security.rnEven the midgets tried to muscle in.rnIt wasn’t the IRS but a bleeding heartrnfrom Rochester who did us in. This guyrnwalked into Spivak’s Bar and Grill andrnsaw a couple of us wrapped up likernmedicine balls. Or maybe it was piggyrnnight and we were greased and jocked uprnlike bonsai wrestlers. Maybe we werernbeing tossed from one drunken Polack tornanother. Maybe one of us got droppedrnand bust a table. Maybe someone gotrnbounced off a wall. Maybe they werernplaying dunk ball and we were beingrnthrown through paper targets into tubs ofrnwater. Maybe it was girlie night and wernwere on our skateboards aimed at tenrnpins. “This is disgusting. Dehumanizing.rnDegrading,” he thought. “Thisrnshould be stopped!” So he made hisrnmove. What’s he know about it? Didrnhe even think of asking one of us? Wernwould have told him we’d never had it sorngood. And it wasn’t just the money. Itrnwas the funlrnYou have probably never really beenrnthrown. Even as a kid, the nearest we getrnto it, most of us, is in the water. Our fatherrnthrows us up in the air when we’re inrna pool or a lake somewhere, and we pushrnup from his hands with our feet to seernhow high we can go—then come tumblingrndown, screeching at the top of ourrnlungs, making the biggest splash we can.rnMaybe you can remember that. Maybernyou’d dive—flip over onto your back, seernhow far out you could go. With me,rnthough, it was like being shot out of arncannon. I’d go 10,12 feet into the air. IrnAUGUST 1993/47rnrnrn