CHALLENGING  THE  MYTHICAL  NATION:  
 LIBERAL  YOUTH  ACTIVISM  IN  BELGRADE,  SERBIA  
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
by    
KAROLÍNA  KŘELINOVÁ    
 
 
 
SERGEI  A.  KAN,  Ph.D,  
LOURDES  GUTIÉRREZ  NÁJERA,  Ph.D,  
advisors  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
A  thesis  submitted  in  partial  fulfillment  
of  the  requirements  for  the    
Degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  with  Honors  
in  Anthropology  
 
 
DARTMOUTH  COLLEGE  
Hanover,  New  Hampshire  
2014  
   2  
 ABSTRACT  
 
This   thesis   examines   how   Serbian   youth   navigate   the   socio-­‐cultural   transitions   of   their  
post-­‐war   and   post-­‐socialist   society.   In   addition   to   analyzing   the   role   of   nationalist  
narratives   among   youth   in   general,   the   study   concentrates   on   how   local   liberal   youth  
activists  oppose  and  strategically  reconstruct  the  dominant  national  myth  to  promote  their  
own   alternative   ideological   agendas.   The   larger   Balkans   region   remains   politically   tense  
and  divided  by  irreconcilable  counter-­‐narratives  of  blame  and  victimhood  stemming  from  
devastating   local   wars   of   the   1990's.   The   Serbian   liberal   youth   strive   to   promote  
normalization  of  regional  and  domestic  life  through  a  critical  examination  of  their  nation‘s  
involvement   in   the   break   up   of   Yugoslavia.   Based   on   ethnographic   research   conducted  
among   the   Belgrade-­‐based   liberal   youth   activists   in   the   summer   of   2013,   this   thesis  
explores   the   activists'   deeply   personal   as   well   as   collective   struggles   to   reframe   history,  
myth,   and   nation.   The   study   concludes   that   the   liberal   activist   organizations   serve   as  
facilitators   for   the   process   of   ideological   negotiation.   The   findings   inform   our  
understanding  of  the  role  of  youth  in  the  ongoing  struggle  between  nationalism  and  socio-­‐
cultural   westernization   in   the   post-­‐Socialist   world,   and   highlight   the   importance   of   civil  
society  involvement  in  matters  of  transitional  justice.  

  3  
  
 
 
I  would  like  to  dedicate  this  work  to  all  those  who  contributed  to  it  
 as  well  as  to  those  who  are  genuinely  and  bravely  critical  of  their  world  
with  the  hope  of  making  it  better.    
 

  4  
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS    
 
 

There  are  many  individuals  and  institutions  who  consciously  or  unconsciously  supported  
me  throughout  this  project,  and  to  whom  I  would  like  to  extend  my  sincere  thanks  in  the  
next  few  paragraphs:  
 
  First  and  foremost,  I  would  like  to  thank  all  those  at  the  Youth  Initiative  for  Human  
Rights   in   Belgrade   for   welcoming   me   among   themselves   with   incredible   warmth   and   for  
trusting  me  with  their  stories,  fears,  and  hopes.  This  research  would  not  have  been  possible  
without  their  cooperation,  encouragement,  support,  and  thoughtfulness.  Similarly,  I  ought  
to  thank  my  old  friend  Katarina  for  her  care  and  friendship  during  my  time  in  Belgrade.  
I  learned  more  during  my  time  with  these  individuals  than  the  following  pages  could  show.  
Hvala!  Vi  svi  ćete  uvek  ostati  velika  inspiracija  ze  mene.    
  I   owe   much   to   both   my   academic   mentors,   professors   Sergei   A.   Kan   and   Lourdes  
Gutiérrez.     I   could   not   have   complete   this   thesis   without   the   friendship   of   Professor   Kan,  
who   has   first   introduced   me   to   Anthropology,   who   encouraged   me   to   think   about  
independent   research,   and   whose   wise   guidance   I   could   always   count   on   throughout   the  
process.     Similarly,   could   not   be   more   grateful   for   the   help   of   professor   Nájera   who   pushed  
me  to  go  deeper  and  do  better,  who  always  asked  the  tough  questions  while  having  faith  in  
my   ability   to   find   the   right   answers.   I   feel   unbelievably   grateful   for   having   had   the  
opportunity  to  work  with  both  of  these  great  tutors.  
  Much  of  my  appreciation  also  goes  to  Thérèse  Périn-­‐Deville,  whose  smile  served  me  
many   a   time   as   a   safe   haven   in   midst   of   academic   and   personal   storms   outside   of   her   office  
door.  
  I  would  like  to  sincerely  thank  the  Goodman  Fund  for  the  Anthropologcal  Study  of  
Human  Culture,  as  well  as  the  Kaminski  Family  Fund  for  their  generous  financial  support  
which  enabled  me  to  pursue  this  research.    
  For   much   I   am   grateful   to   my   beautiful   and   kind   friend   Miriam   Kilimo   who   has  
accompanied  me  on  this  journey  since  day  one,  and  who  always  offered  words  of  support  
in  times  of  doubt.    
  Lastly,   I   would   like   to   extend   my   thanks   to   the   staff   of   the   Sherman   Library   at  
Dartmouth  College  for  bearing  with  my  creative  mess,  and  to  all  the  friends  who  regularly  
visited  me  there.  
 

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   6  
  
TABLE  OF  CONTENTS  
 
CHAPTER  1:  INTRODUCTION   ...............................................................................................................................9  
RESEARCH  SETTINGS  AND  METHODS .................................................................................................................................12  
DEFINING  MY  SUBJECT...........................................................................................................................................................17  
ANALYTICAL  FRAMEWORK  AND  BACKGROUND ................................................................................................................22  
SERBIAN  NATIONAL(IST)  NARRATIVES .............................................................................................................................33  
THESIS  STRUCTURE ................................................................................................................................................................39  
 
CHAPTER  2:  NARRATIVE  TRANSFORMATIONS ................................................................................................ 41  
OLD  MOTIVES,  NEW  MOTVATIONS .....................................................................................................................................41  
TRANSITIONAL  LIMINALITY..................................................................................................................................................43  
SPREADING  THE  GOSPEL  OF  NATIONALISM .......................................................................................................................46  
NEW  CHAPTERS  NARRATED  BY  YOUTH .............................................................................................................................52  
 
CHAPTER  3:  THREE  STORIES:  PORTRAITS  OF  YOUTH  ACTIVISTS .................................................................. 57  
MAŠA:  BORN  A  REVOLUTIONARY ........................................................................................................................................60  
RUŽA:  THE  GENE  FOR  JUSTICE ..............................................................................................................................................64  
ANITA:  CROSSING  THE  DIVIDE(S)........................................................................................................................................69  
 
CHAPTER  4:  CIVILNO  DRUŽSTVO...................................................................................................................... 75  
THE  COUNTER-­‐NARRATIVES ................................................................................................................................................77  
THE  ACTORS  WITHIN  CIVILNO  DRUŽSTVO ..........................................................................................................................88  
FORMS  OF  RESISTANCE .........................................................................................................................................................94  
WHERE  ARE  WE  GOING?..................................................................................................................................................... 102  
 
CHAPTER  5:SREBRENICA:  THE  NARRATIVES  COME  TO  LIFE ........................................................................104  
THE  MASSACRE..................................................................................................................................................................... 107  
THE  GRAVES  OF  SREBENICA  : ............................................................................................................................................ 110  
THE  CONTRADICTORY  TRUTHS.......................................................................................................................................... 114  
AS  I  TELL  IT ........................................................................................................................................................................... 121  
 
CHAPTER  6:  CONCLUSION ...............................................................................................................................135  
 
APPENDIX .........................................................................................................................................................144  
BIBLIOGRAPHY.................................................................................................................................................147  
 

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 FIGURES  
 
Figure  1:  Ethnic  outlook  of  the  Balkans  in  1992  ………………………………………………………..26  
Source:  CIA,  Wikimedia  Commons.  
 
Figure  2:  Satire:  Youth  perception  of  Serbian  ‘progress’.……………………………………………45  
Source:  Facebook  wall  of  an  informant,  September  21st  2014    
 
Figure  3:  The  Marriage  of  Ceca  and  Arkan  Ražnatović  ………………………………………………..47      
Source:  Facebook  group  “Ceca  Ražnatović  Srpska  Kraljica”,  August  15th  2014    
 
Figure  4:  National  Enemies  according  to  Serbian  Youth…………………………………………….49  
Source:  Helsinki  Committee  2011  
 
Figure  5:  Responsibility:  Speech  by  Maja  Mićić………………….……………………………………….87  
Source:  YIHR  festival  documentation  of  7th    “Days  of  Sarajevo”,  May  2013.      
 
Figure  6:  Family  legacies...……………………………………………………………………………………….93  
Source:  Facebook  ,  August  12th  2014  and  October  3rd  2014      
 
Figure  7:  Mission  Statements…………..……………………………………………………………………….95  
Source:  YIHR.org,  HLC-­‐RDC.org,  BGCentar.org  
 
Figure  8:  Through  Batajnica  to  the  EU  …………………………………………………………………….97  
Source:  YIHR  archives  
 
Figure  9:  Public  Action  of  Women  in  Black…….………………………………………………………….99  
Source:  Women  in  Black  archives      
 
Figure  10:  Public  Playground  Sign  in  Voždovac…………………….…………………………………....101  
Source:  Facebook  group  “Dveri  Pokret  Za  Zivot  Srbije  ”,  August  7th  2014    
 
Figure  11:  Srebrenica  UN-­declared  “Safe  Area”,  1994……..…………………………………………108  
Source:  Library  of  Congress,  Wikimedia  Commons.  
 
Figure  12:  The  graves  of  Srebrenica……………………………..……………………………………………110  
Source:  the  author’s  archives  
 
Figure  13:  Srebrenica  1995-­2005…………………………………………………………………………...……120  
Source:  YIHR  archives  
 
Figure  14:  The  Srebrenica  Inferno…………..………………………………………………………………...127  
Source:  YIHR  archives  
 
Figure  15:  The  process  of  ideology-­formation  within  civilno  družstvo  …….…………………...138  
 
 

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 CHAPTER  1  
INTRODUCTION  
 
 
"Never  doubt  that  a  small  group  of  thoughtful,  committed  citizens  can  change  
the  world.  Indeed,  it  is  the  only  thing  that  ever  has."      
                               -­‐  Margaret  Mead    
 
 
  I  spent  my  first  morning  in  Belgrade  walking  through  the  streets.  The  city  was  much  
warmer,  louder,  and  more  colorful  than  I  remembered  from  my  previous  short  visits.  The  
sunlight  softly  covered  the  cobbled  streets.  I  noticed  a  graffiti  ‘Smrt  Muslimanima’  (‘Death  
to  the  Muslims’)  around  the  corner  from  my  apartment,  and  a  pile  of  books  about  Broz  Tito,  
former   all-­‐Yugoslav   leader,   in   many   of   the   bookstore   displays   I   passed   on   my   way   to   the  
market.    I  greeted  a  shopkeeper  enjoying  a  cup  of  thick  coffee  with  a  cigarette  in  front  of  
her  shop,  and  passed  a  man  sleeping  through  the  morning  rush  on  the  wooden  fountain  in  
the   entrance   to   Skadarlija,   an   old   street   famous   for   fine   food   and   traditional   folk-­‐style  
entertainment.   People   talked   in   line   in   front   of   a   warmly   smelling   bakery   as   grandmas   and  
grandpas  slowly  pulled  their  checkered  bags  on  wheels  by.    The  raspberry  season  brought  
a  sweet  fragrance  to  the  marketplace.  Right  next  to  the  watermelons,  peaches  and  apricots,  
a   middle-­‐aged   woman   was   selling   her   arugula,   spinach   and   four   different   kinds   of   beans.   It  
felt  good  to  be  back.    
  The   Balkans   occupy   an   important   place   in   my   heart.   It   is   almost   by   chance   that   I   got  
acquainted   with   the   region   after   receiving   a   scholarship   to   spend   two   years   at   an  
international   high   school   in   Bosnia   and   Herzegovina,   Serbia’s   western   neighbor.   Growing  
up  in  Czech  republic,  perfectly  shielded  from  the  wars  raging  on  in  the  Balkans,  I  remember  
my  sense  of  awakening  when  I  first  arrived  in  the  region  in  2008.  While  my  own  country  
has  undergone  a  peaceful  revolution  and  capitalist  transition  shortly  before  my  birth,  the  
Balkans   seemed   to   me   trapped   in   a   perpetual   state   of   transitioning   from   the   war   as   well   as  
from   socialism.   While   our   school   was   surrounded   by   ruins   and   other   visual   reminders   of  
the   violence,   my   schoolmates   from   around   the   Balkans   were,   understandably,   hesitant   to  
share  their  memories  of  the  war.  I  soon  understood  that  their  stories,  while  equally  painful,  
would  offer  noticeably  different  explanations  depending  on  their  ethnicity.  The  conflicting  

  9  
facts,  figures,  and  moral  judgments  I  heard  from  each  of  my  local  friends  and  acquaintances  
reflected   their   dramatically   different   interpretations   of   the   past.   By   the   time   I   reached  
college,   the   Balkans   became   my   second   home,   and   I   yearned   to   learn   more   about   the   social  
and  cultural  forces,   which   kept   my   schoolmates’   individual   stories   different   and   the   region  
as  a  whole  in  a  state  of  political  paralysis  and  continued  ethnic  tensions.    
  During   my   brief   visits   to   Serbia   between   2008   and   2013   I   noticed   a   common   thread  
weaving   throughout   the   brief   conversations   with   the   few   Serbian   students   I   met:   their  
sense   that   the   West   was   treating   them   with   a   negative   bias,   differently   from   all   other   post-­‐
Yugoslav   states.   Throughout   a   summer   school   on   Conflict   Transformation   I   attended   in  
Kosovo,   the   few   Serbian   students   present   were   raising   their   hands   to   challenge   the  
Western   professors’   interpretation   of   the   past.   Both   international   and   local   literature  
seemed   to   confirm   my   suspicion   that   Serbian   society   was   approaching   the   past   very  
differently   from   how   the   other   post-­‐Yugoslav   states   in   the   region   did.   Čolović   (2002)  
described   the   dominant   conservative   narrative,   which   framed   Serbia’s   war   conduct   as   a  
defense   strategy,   and   Bringa   2005(a)   spoke   about   Serbia’s   hesitance   to   engage   in   the  
internationally  sanctioned  means  of  transitional  justice.  Kostovicova  (2013)  asserted  that  
the   Serbian   state   was   ill-­‐suited   to   supervise   the   task   of   democratization   and   regional  
reconciliation,   while   Obradovic-­‐Wochnik   stated   directly   that   Serbian   society   as   well   as  
political  elites  are    “failing  to  come  to  terms  with  [their]  past”  (2013:  210).    
  A  couple  weeks  after  the  summer  school  I  visited  the  office  of  the  Youth  Initiative  for  
Human   Rights   in   Belgrade,   a   liberal   youth   NGO.   I   was   astonished   by   how   different   these  
young   people   were   from   the   Serbian   students   I   met   previously   and   from   the   nationalist  
society   described   in   the   literature.   Not   only   were   they   openly   critiquing   Serbia’s   war  
conduct,   but   also   dedicating   hours   and   hours   of   work   to   teaching   these   ideas   to   others.   I  
was  intrigued  to  learn  more  and  curious  how  such  deep  differences  in  interpretation  of  the  
past  and  present  could  prevail  among  the  youth  who,  I  imagined,  must  have  been  subjected  
to   similar   socializing   practices   through   the   state   education   system,   media,   and   the   public  
sphere.    
  Specifically,  I  wished  to  understand  how  a  small  collective  of  individuals  growing  up  
in   a   strongly   nationalist   society   acquired   their   liberal   worldviews   that   were   so   sharply  
distinct  from  the  majority  of  Serbian  youth  loyal  to  the  national  interpretations  of  the  past  

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 and  present.  I  was  fascinated  by  the  contrast  between  these  two  groups.  More  than  seeking  
the  “truth”  about  the  past,  however,  I  was  curious  to  understand  how  the  liberal  activists  
developed  the  beliefs  and  values  that  framed  their  understanding  of  the  world  despite  the  
prevalence   of   the   Serbian   dominant,   state-­‐sponsored   narrative.   This   very   contrast   inspired  
me   to   look   further.   My   research   has   since   been   motivated   primarily   by   the   following  
questions:  
 
i. Why  do  Serbian  youth  continue  to  hold  onto  the  national(ist)  narratives?  
ii. How  do  Serbian  youth  engage  with  and  transform  the  current  Serbian  national(ist)  narratives?  
iii. How  do  the  young  Serbian  liberal  activists  come  to  be  critical  of  the  national(ist)  narratives?  
iv. How  are  the  young  Serbian  liberal  activists  engaging  with  and  transforming  the  national(ist)  
narratives?  
v. What  motivates  the  Serb  liberal  youth  to  risk  their  personal  safety  and  comfort  to  challenge  the  
conservative  narratives?    
vi. What  forms  of  resistance  does  liberal  youth  activism  take  in  Serbia?  
 
  While   Serbian   nationalism   has   previously   been   researched,   the   literature   covering  
the   contemporary   liberal   activism   within   the   conservative   environment   is   lacking.   Because  
the  emergence  of  the  liberal  movements  across  the  Balkans  is  a  very  recent  and  relatively  
small   trend,   few   authors   have   focused   on   analyzing   it.   A   single   collection   of   essays  
contributed   exclusively   by   political   scientists   (published   in   January   2013)   focuses   on   the  
issue.   These   scientists   (all   of   whom   are   Serbian   academics   living   and   engaged   outside   of  
Serbia)   approach   civil   society   in   the   Balkans   from   a   critical   standpoint   of   a   top-­‐down  
analysis.   Focusing   on   external   actors   and   institutions   such   as   the   ICTY   (International   Court  
for   The   Former   Yugoslavia)   or   the   European   Union   and   their   effect   on   the   ground,   these  
essays  do  not  significantly  overlap  with  my  methodology  or  topic.    The  little  overlap  that  
exists  has  to  do  with  a  marginal  debate  on  the  exclusivity  of  the  progressive  movement  or  
the  possibly  counter-­‐productive  radicalism  of  the  liberal  ideas  in  the  conservative  context  
is   based   on   an   outsider   perspective   and   clearly   reflects   the   lack   of   contact   between   the  
authors  and  the  liberal  civil  society  actors  (Obradovic  2013).    

  11  
   Instead   of   focusing   exclusively   on   one   side   of   the   political   spectrum   in   Serbia,   my  
work   will   contextualize   and   briefly   outline   the   experiences   and   cultural   frameworks  
developed  by  the  entire  new  generation.  While  the  limited  duration  of  my  fieldwork  forced  
me  to  focus  on  the  liberal  activist  experience  more  than  on  the  experiences  of  other  youth  
groups   in   Serbia,   I   gathered   enough   materials   to   describe   and   contrast   the   community,  
personal  ideologies  and  visions  of  progressive  liberal  activists  within  their  context  (formed  
by   those   from   the   apathetic   majority   and   the   conservative   youth   circles).   Such   approach  
allows  me  to  analyze  the  fluid  meaning  of  concepts  often  used  in  describing  the  status  quo  
in   the   Balkans   such   as   patriotism,   responsibility,   justice,   and   memory.   My   aim   is   not   to  
conduct   a   statistically   representative   study   that   could   provide   basis   for   generalizations  
about   the   community   of   Serbian   human   rights   activists   at   large,   but   rather,   to   describe   and  
capture   a   specific   subculture   and   the   unique   experiences   of   those   who   share   it.   No   other  
scholars  have  focused  on  internal  national  initiatives  aimed  at  overcoming  the  war-­‐ignited  
xenophobia  in  the  post-­‐conflict  context  of  the  Balkans.  This  research  thus  contributes  to  a  
larger   academic   debate   on   reconciliation   and   post-­‐conflict   cultural   transformation,   going  
beyond   the   existing   academic   work   on   the   subject.   It   gives   voice   to   a   generation   whose  
stories  are  rarely  told  and  whose  experience  might  not  be  understood  by  others.    
 
RESEARCH  SETTINGS  AND  METHODS  
 
The   primary   data   used   in   my   analysis   come   from   the   fieldwork   conducted   in   Belgrade,  
Serbia   between   June   and   August   2013.   I   chose   to   conduct   my   research   in   Belgrade   because  
the   majority   of   the   youth   involvement   in   activism   on   either   side   of   the   conservative-­‐liberal  
divide   happens   on   the   streets   of   this   capital.   The   rural   activist   scene,   as   one   of   my  
informants  originally  from  outside  of  Belgrade  later  remarked,  was  ‘nonexistent.’    
   My   main   focus   was   on   interviewing   and   observing   the   work   of   Serbian   youth  
between  the  ages  of  16  and  30  who  were  currently  or  in  the  past  actively  engaged  with  the  
liberal   civil   society   groups   in   the   city.   Through   connections   that   I   had   built   up   at   the  
beginning   of   my   fieldwork   I   gained   access   to   programming   related   to   war   crime  
remembrances,   educational   and   PR   conferences,   award   ceremonies,   exhibitions,   protests,  
and   other   events   related   to   the   topics   important   to   the   liberal   youth   activists   during   my  

  12  
stay   in   the   field.     Aside   from   taking   part   in   these   progressive   circles,   I   engaged   in  
participant  observations  in  places  where  the  mainstream  Serbian  youth  go  to  spend  their  
time,   keeping   an   eye   on   easily   accessible   or   visible   messages   reflecting   national(ist)  
ideologies   (such   as   the   graffiti   around   the   corner   from   my   apartment!).   While   I   knew   I  
wanted   to   concentrate   on   the   experiences   of   young   liberal   activists,   I   made   an   active  
attempt  to  connect  with  the  conservative  wing  of  the  civil  society  organizations  in  the  city  
in  order  to  gain  perspective  on  the  entirety  of  the  political  spectrum  across  which  the  youth  
activism  was  spread  in  Serbia.  Throughout  the  summer,  I  took  the  time  to  attend  the  rallies  
and   meetings   organized   by   and   for   the   right-­‐wing   youth.     At   last,   I   created   a   relationship  
with   and   interviewed   a   number   of   young   students   active   in   these   nationalist   circles.  
Gaining  access  to  the  conservative  youth  groups  thus  proved  difficult,  but  not  impossible.  
Because  my  main  focus  was  on  the  liberal  youth,  however,  the  imbalance  between  the  two  
sides  in  my  data  should  not  hinder  the  quality  of  my  analysis.      
  A   large   number   of   the   youth   activists   I   interviewed   and   interacted   with   I   reached   in  
one   way   or   another   through   the   Youth   Initiative   for   Human   Rights   NGO   (YIHR).   After  
making  my  initial  visit  to  the  their  office  in  2012,  I  chose  to  connect  with  this  NGO  further  
because  they  seemed  open  to  cooperation,  and  because  they  are  a  uniquely  respected  and  
well-­‐   connected   group   within   the   liberal   non-­‐profit   community   in   Belgrade   as   well   as  
within  the  region.  The  young  people  I  met  at  YIHR’s  office  called  each  other  a  family,  and  I  
soon   understood   that   the   collective   played   an   important   role   in   the   private   lives   of   its  
members.   The   opportunity   to   engage   with   the   YIHR   staff   on   a   daily   basis   also   greatly  
enhanced  the  level  of  relationships  I  was  able  to  form  with  them  over  the  relatively  short  
period   of   time   that   I   spent   in   Serbia.   Thanks   to   my   good   command   of   Serbian   I   was   able   to  
participate  in  daily  conversations  related  to  work  as  well  as  in  the  informal  ones.  In  order  
to  engage  with  others  within  the  organization,  I  took  it  upon  myself  to  help  out  with  small  
research   tasks,   event   planning   and   media   library   re-­‐organization,   though   I   never   had   to  
sacrifice   my   own   research   for   the   office’s   demands.   My   position   wasn’t   unusual   at   YIHR  
because  the  office  regularly  takes  interns  from  among  the  like-­‐minded  Serbian  university  
students  interested  in  the  issues  and  short-­‐term  interns  from  abroad.    I  soon  understood  
that   education   of   newcomers   -­‐   what   was   later   to   become   my   central   focus   -­‐     was   critical   to  
the  survival  of  the  organization  and  of  the  liberal  narratives  at  large.      

  13  
   Much   of   my   time   at   the   YIHR   office   was   spent   chatting   with   the   young   people  
present   in   the   common   room,   eating   lunch   together,   and   going   about   everyday   obligations.  
The  physical  set-­‐up  of  the  office  facilitated  constant  interaction  -­‐  common  workspace  and  
familiarity  of  everyone  within  the  organization  created  a  very  relaxed  atmosphere,  where  
all   daily   events,   wictories   and   losses   were   shared   communally.   For   example,   whenever   a  
member   of   YIHR   was   interviewed   for   any   kind   of   a   media   outlet,   the   entire   office   would  
gather   around   to   listen/watch.   Similarly,   major   decisions   were   made   after   group  
discussions  that  I  was  able  to  observe  at  the  beginning,  and  participate  in  during  the  later  
stages   of   my   work.   Such   environment   was   very   conducive   to   observation   and   fast  
integration,   as   well   as   creation   of   rapport   and   personal   connection   with   my   informants,  
which  contributed  to  the  overall  depth  of  my  data.      
  Within  the  liberal  circles,  I  participated  in  community  activities  such  as  protests  and  
actions   in   support   of   declaring   11th   of   July   a   day   of   commemoration   of   genocide   victims,   in  
conferences,   award   ceremonies,   and   in   group   bonding   activities   on   the   weekends.   These  
were   mostly   directly   organized   by   Youth   Initiative   for   Human   Rights,   or   by   one   of   the  
umbrella   NGO   coalition   groups.   Many   of   such   Belgrade-­‐based   organizations   (Civil   Rights  
Defenders,   Women   in   Black,   House   of   Human   Rights,   or   E8   Youth   Center)   were   exchanging  
volunteers   and   coming   to   aid   the   others   in   their   endeavors.   Because   of   this   exchange,   I  
naturally   got   to   know   individuals   beyond   the   organization   that   I   was   directly   affiliated  
with.   Some   of   these   support   events   took   the   shape   of   helping   set   up   a   photography  
exhibition   or   coming   to   listen   to   a   progressive   author’s   new   book   presentation.  
Participation   in   such   exchanges   gave   me   a   chance   to   observe   the   relations   between   the  
different  groups  of  civil  society  in  Belgrade,  and  the  support  network  that  they  developed  
out   of   critical   need   for   solidarity.   Members   of   YIHR   also   actively   helped   me   meet   with  
informants   who   weren’t   employed   at   the   office,   and   advertised   my   search   for   interviewees  
on  their  social  media  websites.    
  Also   thanks   to   my   affiliation   with   YIHR   I   was     able   to   participate   in   a   trip   to  
Srebrenica  organized  by  a  collective  of  Belgrade’s  liberal  NGOs.  Constituting  the  single  Serb  
delegation,  a  bus  of  about  thirty  Serbian  NGO  volunteers  and  activists,  we  travelled  to  the  
commemoration  ceremony  at  the  site  of  the  1995  massacre  of  6,868  Bosnian  Muslim  men  
at   the   hands   of   Serbian   militias.   The   trip   provided   me   not   only   with   a   strong   emotional  

  14  
experience,   but   primarily   with   the   opportunity   to   engage   with   a   variety   of   informants  
during   their   active   pursuit   of   ‘dealing   with   the   past’.   My   analysis   of   this   experience   is  
presented  in  the  last  chapter  of  this  thesis.  
  My   involvement   with   Youth   Initiative   did   prove   slightly   problematic   when   I   tried   to  
approach   the   youth   activists   on   the   conservative   end   of   the   political   spectrum.   On   my  
second  night  in  Belgrade  that  summer,  a  former  schoolmate  of  mine,  Katarina,  took  me  to  
meet   her   friends,   three   students   at   the   country’s   best   faculty   of   Law.   “Human   rights?  
Initiative  for  Human  Rights?”  they  laughed,  when  I  admitted  which  of  Serbian  NGOs  I  was  
about  to  become  affiliated  with  in  the  city.  Opening  up  the  non-­‐profit’s  online  page  on  one  
of   their   Smartphones,   they   didn’t   get   past   the   welcome   screen,   which   prompted   them   to  
choose   the   language   of   viewing.   Albanian,   a   language   spoken   in   Kosovo,   the   former  
province   and   a   war   enemy,   was   one   of   the   options.   That   night,   unquestionably   a   disaster  
when   it   comes   to   my   remaining   a   neutral   participant   observer,   taught   me   how   polarized  
the  Serbian  public  was  along  the  concepts  I  was  hoping  to  explore.  
  I  reached  out  to  a  number  of  organizations  such  as  ‘Dveri’  or  ‘1389’(an  extreme  right  
organization   named   after   the   date   of   a   major   historical   battle   (Battle   of   Kosovo   against   the  
Ottomans),   as   well   as   youth   clubs   of   conservative   political   parties   with   varied   success.   I  
found  myself  balancing  on  the  edge  of  ethical  conduct  not  mentioning  my  involvement  with  
YIHR   while   gathering   contacts   and   interviews   from   across   the   divide.   If   asked   directly,  
however,   I   did   admit   that   I   was   working   with   the   Youth   Initiative.   Such   confession   often  
resulted   in   defining   of   my   positionality   as   a   naïve,   biased   foreigner,   but   with   time   I   learned  
how  to  ‘pull  the  strings’  so  to  speak.    
  My   informants   at   large   assumed   that   my   exposure   to   local   issues   and   culture  
remedied   my   participation   in   the   stereotype.   During   a   number   of   my   initial   encounters  
with  them,  however,  I  had  to  fight  this  stereotype  quite  fiercely——I  call  the  treatment  that  
I   was   occasionally   submitted   to   a   teaching   mode.   Within   a   conversation   where   this  
approach   would   be   used,   an   informant,   an   acquaintance,   or   a   random   passer-­‐by   would   feel  
the  need  to  educate  me  on  the  basic  Serbian  (hi)story  reflecting  their  interpretation  of  the  
national   myth.   Such   narrative   mostly   justified   Serbia’s   conduct   during   the   war   and  
emphasized   the   nation’s   innocence   and   victimhood   throughout   the   20th   century.   These  
defensive  narratives  were  sparked  without  invitation  after  a  single  sentence  I  contributed  

  15  
to   the   conversation   -­‐   often   a   greeting   or   an   introduction.     I   concluded   that   my   sheer  
positionality  as  a    foreigner  was  enough  to  make  my  conversation  partner  feel  threatened.  
As   I   became   more   aware   of   this   I   adjusted   the   manner   in   which   I   introduced   myself   to   new  
acquaintances   and   I   eventually   became   more   and   more   successful   at   avoiding   the   ‘teaching  
mode’  entirely.    
  I  was  able  to  advocate  for  my  neutrality  in  the  heatedly  polarized  atmosphere  also  
because   my   Serbian   improved   rapidly,   and   speaking   it,   I   was   able   to   honor   Serbian  
tradition.   Speaking   the   national   language   seemed   to   make   me   seem   more   likely   to  
understand  the  national  sentiments  that  many  of  my  conservative  informants  adhered  to.  
Some   of   my   right-­‐wing   informants   later   admitted   that   they   were   happy   they   could   speak  
Serbian  with  me  rather  than  English,  and  that  it  made  them  more  comfortable  talking  about  
the   topics   I   was   hoping   to   discuss.   With   time   I   was   also   able   to   develop   questions   that  
disclosed   my   familiarity   with   the   situation   and   the   worries   and   frustrations   of   my  
conservative   informants,   which   I   felt     facilitated   deeper,   longer   conversations   that   were  
less   ‘educational’   and   more   personal.   I   found   myself   lucky   to   make   and   maintain  
connection   with   a   group   of   acquaintances   of   my   friend   Katarina   who   had   a   number   of  
connections   within   the   conservative   youth   circles.   Having   her   referral   was   often   helpful  
when   setting   up   interviews,   even   though   a   number   of   my   attempts   to   connect   with   the  
more   influential   right   wing   organizers   did   remain   fruitless.     In   addition   to   private  
interviews   with   the   conservative   youth   in   Belgrade,   I   participated   in   public   protests   on  
Vidovdan,  Serbian  national  holiday  on  28th  of  June,  a  number  of  football  matches  between  
clubs   known   for   their   extremist/nationalist   supporters,   and   followed   right-­‐wing  
newspaper  and  radio  outlets.  I  was  also  invited  to  join  a  very  active  online  community  of  
Dveri,   which   gives   me   access   to   over   a   hundred   new   commentaries   and   multimedia   each  
day  that  I  can  track  back  in  time  up  until  June  2010.    
  Overall,   I   managed   to   conduct   twenty   five   semi-­‐structured   interviews   with   twenty  
two   different   individuals.   Out   of   these   twenty-­‐two,   four   were   individuals   from   the  
conservative   youth   groups.   15   of   my   informants   were   female,   7   were   male,   and   most   of  
them  currently  worked  or  attended  school  in  Belgrade.  All  interviews  but  one  (conducted  
over   Skype   after   the   conclusion   of   my   fieldwork)   were   done   in   person.   Before   I   began   each  
interview,  I  made  sure  my  informant  was  acquainted  with  the  purpose  of  the  interview  and  

  16  
comfortable   with   my   recording   and   with   the   related   confidentiality   issues.   Interestingly,  
the  majority  of  my  informants  asked  that  I  use  their  real  name  in  my  writing.  My  interviews  
varied   in   length   from   35   minutes   to   three   hours,   depending   on   the   closeness   of   my  
relationship  with  the  informant,  and  on  how  much  time  they  had  for  me.  In  my  interviews  
with   the   liberal   youth   activists   I   generally   tried   to   follow   the   pre-­‐planned,   open-­‐ended  
questions   (see   Appendix),   even   though   follow   up   questions   often   took   us   to   interesting  
areas   I   wouldn’t   have   thought   to   ask   about.   I   was   lucky   to   enter   a   community   that  
encouraged  me  in  my  language  learning  and  after  two  weeks  in  Belgrade,  I  felt  that  I  was  
able   to   communicate   complex   thoughts   and   participate   in   daily   conversations.   Since   then,   I  
was   able   to   arrange   my   interviews   in   Serbian   and   switched   into   English   only   if   my  
informant’s  command  of  the  language  was  good  enough  not  to  disrupt  her/his  focus  on  the  
topic.  Because  the  majority  of  my  informants  were  university  educated  and  accustomed  to  
regional   and   global   NGO   cooperation,   over   two-­‐thirds   my   interviews   were   nonetheless  
conducted  in  English.    
  My  findings  also  draw  from  a  large  collection  of  participant  observation-­‐based  field  
notes   and   other   materials   collected   in   the   field.   In   addition   to   the   interviews   I   collected  
newspapers   with   relevant   articles,   examined   history   textbooks   my   informants   lent   me   as  
well  as  materials  pertaining  to  the  activities  of  the  organizations  that  I  was  examining  on  
both   sides   of   the   liberal-­‐conservative   divide   (documentation,   archives,   promotion  
materials).      
 
DEFINING  MY  SUBJECT  
 
Before  I  begin  to  discuss  the  structures  and  mechanisms  at  play  among  the  Belgrade  based  
activist  population,  I  need  to  resolve  the  crucial  problem  of  naming  and  defining  it.  Because  
I  want  to  provide  an  accurate  analysis  of  my  field  I  will  move  beyond  awkward  generalized  
formulations,   which   can   never   be   precise   enough   in   a   detailed   account   of   what   some   could  
reduce   to   “a   movement”,   “a   community”,   or   even   “a   group   of   extremists”.   Specifically  
because   each   of   these   terms   carries   positionality   in   the   form   of   emotional   baggage   or  
judgment,  it  is  necessary  that  I  carefully  justify  the  usage  of  my  particular  vocabulary.    
  First,   I   need   to   rule   out   the   descriptive   usage   of   the   word   ‘movement’,  
acknowledging   the   diversity   and   inner   fractions   among   the   activist   population.   While   the  

  17  
term   can   frequently   be   found   in   the   writings   of   contemporary   Balkan   analysts   and   even  
anthropologists   focusing   on   the   region   (e.g.   Kostovicova   2013,   Ostojic   2013),   my  
experience   and   the   resolute   “no!”   of   my   informants   push   me   to   denounce   the   term.   “No,   no.  
No   one   will   tell   you   there   is   a   human   rights   movement   in   Serbia,”   Aleksandar   told   me,  
repeating  the  words  of  all  others  whom  I  managed  to  ask  the  question  during  a  structured  
interview.  “Before  it  was  easier,”  he  continues,  recalling  the  street  protests  of  the  90’s,  “we  
had  a  single  enemy  -­  Slobodan  Miloševič.  He  had  to  go,  that  was  at  least  one  thing  everyone  
could  agree  on.  Now  it’s  not  like  that  anymore.“  While  the  contemporary  activists  draw  from  
the  tradition  of  anti-­‐war  protest  of  the  90’s  and  many  have  personal  connections  to  it,  the  
natural  diversification  of  demands  that  followed  the  2000  democratic  revolution  resulted  
in   fragmentation   of   the   movement   into   separate,   cause-­‐oriented   groups.   Even   among  
organizations   who   continue   to   focus   on   human   rights   violations   of   the   past   and   present,  
however,   personal   grievances   and   minor   disagreements   hinder   the   formation   of   a   more  
unified  and  powerful  movement.  „There  is  no  solidarity,  just  big  divisions  among  the  NGO’s.“  
Ruža  sighs.  „It’s  making  us  weak.“              
  Similarly,   I   am   reluctant   to   call   the   Belgrade   activist   population   an   activist  
‘community’,   because   the   term   implies   an   exclusively   homogeneous   association.   While  
many   of   the   sub-­‐groups   within   the   larger   civil   society   do   actively   call   themselves  
communities,  the  very  concept,  as  noted  by  Miranda  Joseph  (2002),  highlights  a  mechanism  
enacting   hierarchy   and   legitimizing   oppression   or   exclusion   of   those   outside   the  
‘community’.   Joseph   defines   “community”   as   a   set   of   “social   practices   that   presume   or  
attempt   to   enact   and   produce   identity,   unity,   communion,   and   purity”   (xix),   critiquing  
primarily  the  idealization  of  the  concept  as  a  “utopian  state  of  human  relatedness”  (ix).  The  
practice  of  community,  as  earlier  observed  by  such  scholars  as  Hannah  Arendt  in  Origins  of  
Totalitarianism   (1951),   Benedict   Anderson   in   Imagined   Communities   (1983)   or   Max  
Horkheimer  in  Dialectic  of  Enlightenment  (1972),  is  nothing  more  than  an  exclusionary  and  
disciplining   mechanism   for   the   creation   of   homogenous,   politically   active   groups.   In   a  
situation   when   the   activist   groups   of   interest   to   me   organize   around   anti-­‐nationalist,  
liberal,   inclusive   values,   describing   their   structures   as   a   ‘community’   would   be   particularly  
paradoxical.    

  18  
   The   only   other   self-­‐ascribed   designation   by   which   the   small   group   of   liberal   activist  
in   Belgrade   seem   to   define   themselves   is   the   term   ‘civil   society’.   Western   social   science  
literature,  however,  defines  civil  society  differently  from  what  I  have  encountered  in  Serbia.  
The  theoretical  foundations  and  established  academic  debates  about  civil  society  emerged  
from   the   West,   grounded   in   its   specific   philosophical,   political   and   socio-­‐economic  
backgrounds,  and  continued  to  be  discussed  in  such  context.  The  early  civil  society  debate  
was  tied  specifically  to  the  context  of  a  Western  state  formation  (Hobbes  and  Locke),  the  
emergence   of   class   struggle   and   capitalist   mode   of   production   (Hegel1   and   Marx),   and  
democratization   and   democracy   (Gellner2).   Later,   during   the   1970’s   and   1980’s   both  
theoretical  understanding  and  organized  activity  of  civil  society  concentrated  once  again  in  
the   West   through   the   work   of   anti-­‐war,   environmental   and   justice   based   movements   and  
the   scholars   studying   them.   Contemporary   academic   debates   privilege   the   definition  
inspired  by  Habermas  (1991)  or  Cohen  and  Arato  (1992),  who  understand  civil  society  as  
“the   space   were   questions   of   public   interest   are   discussed   by   individuals   or   groups  
organized   on   a   voluntary   basis”   (as   cited   in   Spini   2011:16).   Simply   said,   civil   society   is  
traditionally   considered   to   equate   to   NGOs   and   other   non-­‐state   actors   such   as   lobby  
groups,  think-­‐tanks,  grassroots  social  movements,  local  community  organizations,  charities  
and   foundations,   spiritual   communities   and   religious   movements,   education-­‐based  
organizations,   as   well   as   professional   associations   (list   adapted   from   Diamond   and  
McDonald  1996).    
    Such   definition,   dominant   in   one   form   or   another   in   global   political   discourse   and  
academic   literature,   however,   needs   to   be   challenged   in   terms   of   its   capacity   to   describe  
what   is   happening   in   the   field   in   general,   and   in   my   field   in   particular.   The   civil   society  
space   is   inhabited   by   greatly   different   actors,   many   of   whom   are   far   away   from   sharing  
characteristics   that   are   defining   to   my   informants’   sense   of   belonging   to   their   activist  
groups.  Some  of  these  qualities  are  summarized  in  a  rare,  narrower—even  if  more  vague—  
definition   provided   by   Falk   (1995):     “civil   society..   [is]   a   galaxy   of   groups   and   networks  
involved  in  struggles  for  global  justice,  sustainability,  the  empowerment  of  women,  respect  
for  human  rights,  and  so  on.”    In  order  to  define  the  group  of  progressive,  liberal,  justice-­‐
                                                                                                               
1  Hegel,  G.W.F.  (1991)  Philosophy  of  Right,  Cambridge:  Cambridge  University  Press.  E.g.    

2  Gellner,  E.  (1991)  Conditions  of  Liberty:  Civil  Society  and  Its  Rivals,  London:  Hamish  Hamilton.    

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oriented   organizations   that   I   worked   with   in   Serbia,   and   in   order   to   avoid   complications   in  
the   form   of   established   general   definitions   of   civil   society,   I   will   adopt   my   informant’s   term  
directly:  
 ‘Civilno   družstvo‘   (Srb..   civil   society).   While   the   term   does   directly   translate   into   “civil  
society”,  the  local  meaning  is  different.  
 
“Civilno   družstvo   here   is   synonymous   to   human   rights   organizations.   In   the   past  
you   had   the   pro-­war   regime—the   state,   and   if   you   were   against   the   war   you  
weren’t  in  the  state  corpus  at  all.  You  were  civil  society.  I  know  it’s  not  according  
to   registrations,   because   of   course   you   also   have   the   nationalist   organizations  
who  are  technically  registered  as  NGOs,  but  no  one  is  talking  about  them  as  NGO’s.  
I  have  no  other  explanation.”  -­‐  Ruža  
 
In   Serbia,   as   well   as   at   least   in   some   other   post-­‐socialist   nations   of   Eastern   Europe,   civil  
society  is  understood  as  an  organized,  very  small  liberal  grouping  of  those  concerned  with  
freedoms   and   rights   of   all   individuals   regardless   of   their   identity   characteristics.   These  
progressive  circles  as  well  as  particular  informants  have,  over  the  course  of  my  fieldwork,  
referred   to   themselves   as   civilno   družstvo.   Invitations   to   events   I   attended   (press  
conferences,   award   ceremonies   etc.),   which   were   organized   by   liberally   minded   groups,  
carried   the   title   or   were   referred   to   as   events   for/by   the  civilno   družstvo.   Upon   asking   to  
define  civilno   družstvo,   my   informant   Jasmina   outlined   a   simple   dichotomy:   “Either   you   are  
working   with   the   state,   or   against   it.   If   you   work   with   the   state,   there’s   nothing   civil   about  
what   you   do.”     Jasmina’s   understanding   of   the   concept   emphasizes   civility,   respectful   and  
tolerant  behavior  towards  all  members  of  the  society,  as  the  primary  characteristic  of  this  
community.   Before   coming   to   signify   ‘polite   behavior’,   the   early   theoretical   use   of   civility  
originating   from   the   Latin   civilis,   used   to   denote   the   “state   of   being   a   good   citizen”   (New  
Oxford  American  Dictionary,  Third  Edition).  “To  be  civilized  is  to  understand  that  we  live  in  
a  society  as  in  a  household,  and  that  within  that  household,  if  we  are  to  be  moral  people,  
our   relationship   with   other   people   (our   fellow   citizens,   members   of   our   civic   household)  
are  governed  by  a  standard  of  behavior  that  limits  our  freedom.  Our  duty  to  follow  those  
standards  does  not  depend  on  whether  or  not  we  happen  to  agree  with  or  even  like  each  
other,”   writes   S.   L.   Carter   in   his   discussion   of   the   role   of   civility   in   modern   democracy  
(1998:15).      We  can  therefore  define  the  ‘civilno  družstvo’  as  a  grouping  of  individuals  and  

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organizations   concerned   with   matters   of   justice   who   work   on   creating   civility   and   civil  
discourse   in   Serbia   ‘in   spite-­‐of   un-­‐civil   society’(Kostovicova   2013:10,   Bieber   2003:82).  
While  coexisting  with  the  semi-­‐authoritarian  Serbian  political  system  (EIU  ranking  2010),  
Serbian   civilno   družstvo   should   therefore   be   understood   as   an   actor   safeguarding   civic  
values  and  freedoms  in  the  Serbian  society.    
  The  past  three  decades  in  Serbia  saw  a  rise  of  numerous  groups  and  organizations  
that   began   focusing   on   social   issues   -­‐   human   rights,   democratization,   freedom   of   speech.  
During   the   wars   of   the   90’s   and   most   importantly,   during   the   1999   conflict   over   Kosovo,  
however,  a  large  subset  of  these  human  rights  organizations  began  focusing  exclusively  on  
the   plight   and   suffering   of   Serbian   nationals   in   the   warzones   in   Kosovo   as   opposed   to  
focusing   on   the   suffering   of   civilians   of   any   nationality   (Bieber   2003:   83).   Instead   of  
defending  universal  liberties  and  rights  of  all  peoples,  a  large  number  of  the  Serbian  NGOs  
transformed   their   programming   to   defend   the   national   agenda,   reporting   on   suffering   of  
the  Serbs  and  vilifying  the  national  enemies  (Albanians,  Muslims).  The  remaining  groups  of  
civil   society   which   retained   general   focus   on   universal   rights   and   freedoms   and   critiqued  
the   brutality   of   Serbian   troops   in   dealing   with   Albanians   in   Kosovo   gave   rise   to   what   is  
today   labeled   the   ‘other   Serbia’,   or   civilno   družstvo   –   a   petite   collective   of   NGOs   and  
intellectuals   seeking   to   oppose   nationalism   and   its   symptoms   within   society,   the  
authoritarian  regime,  and  war  (Obradovich  2013,  Bieber  2003).  Today  there  are  no  more  
than  a  hundred  of  those  employed  in  the  civilno  družstvo,  with  a  similarly  high  number  of  
fluid  ‘membership’  in  the  form  of  volunteers,  temporary  interns,  and  activists.      
  Because   the   majority   of   today’s   NGOs   and   human   rights   organizations   evolved   from  
anti-­‐war   and   anti-­‐regime   movements   of   the   90s,   civilno   družstvo   in   Serbia   remains   in   a  
clear  opposition  to  the  authorities  (Ostojic,  2013:  231,  238),  taking  a  strong  stance  against  
militarism,   defending   equality   for   all   citizens   regardless   of   background,   and   promoting  
secularization  and  tolerance  of  differences.    Given  this  widespread  reluctance  to  ‘deal  with  
the   past’   among   Serbia’s   political   leadership   and   larger   population,   the   civilno   družstvo,  
Kostovicova  writes,  remains  the  only  plausible  route  to  ethnic  reconciliation  (2013:2).    The  
task   of   facing   Serbia’s   violent   past   is   thus   re-­‐delegated   to   an   isolated,   Belgrade-­‐based  
intelligentsia   of   the   non-­‐profit   sector,   and   to   the   international   actors   involved   in   the  
Balkans.      

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ANALYTICAL  FRAMEWORK  AND  BACKGROUND  
 
My   interest   in   Serbian   liberal   youth   activists   is,   deep   down,   powered   by   one   of   the  
questions   that   keeps   me   up   at   night:   “How   is   it   that   people   come   to   believe   what   they  
believe   about   their   place   in   the   world?”   Acknowledging   the   social   construction   of  
worldviews   and   the   role   nation-­‐states   have   played   in   structuring   the   Balkan   people’s  
understanding  of  recent  history,    I  will  therefore  briefly  examine  such  broad  questions  as  
“How   does   an   individual   assume   loyalty   to   a   structure   of   power   such   as   the   state?”   and  
“What  forces  determine  whether  one  will  be  receptive  towards  or  critical  of  their  nation’s  
socializing   influences?”   However,   this   ethnography   will   focus   primarily   on   the   individual  
experience   of   navigating   a   world   outlined   by   national   ideologies   and   narrative  
interpretations  of  the  past  and  present.  I  will  therefore,  above  all,  be  asking:  “What  does  it  
mean  for  the  Serbian  youth    to  live  in  a  state  with  an  unresolved  criminal  war  legacy,  a  state  
that   is   consumed   by   the   romance   with   its   past   glory?”   I   will   attempt   to   answer   these  
questions  anthropologically  by  taking  into  account:  1)  the  cultural  function  of  nations  and  
national  myths,  2)  the  manifestations  of  fluid,  imagined  nations  within  the  real  world  and  
the  Balkans  specifically,  and  3)  the  role  of  national  narratives  in  contemporary  Serbia.    
  At   the   center   of   this   thesis   lies   a   clash   of   national   narratives.   The   rest   of   this  
introductory   chapter   will   introduce   the   two   dominant   narrative   motives   of   the   Serbian  
nationalist  myth.  Both  establish  a  foundation  for  our  future  discussion  of  how  this  myth  is  
reproduced   among   the   youth   today,   and   how   it   interacts   with   divergent,   alternative  
narratives   in   contemporary   Serbia.   The   chapter   will   therefore   set   the   stage   for   the  
forthcoming   analysis   of   the   narratives   prevalent   among   the   liberal   youth   of   the   Serbian  
civilno  družstvo,  the  primary  focus  of  my  thesis.    
  The  dominant,  state-­‐sponsored  Serbian  myth  has  at  its  center  a  fundamental  conflict  
that  has  defined  and  explained  Serbia’s  historical  and  contemporary  role  in  the  world:  the  
conflict   between   the   heroic,   honest   Slav   spirit   juxtaposed   against   exploitative   outsider  
interests.   That   national   myth   can   be   recognized   in   the   manner   with   which   Serbian  
textbooks,  media,  and  people  explain  their  historical  interactions  with  the  Ottoman  Empire,  
both   World   Wars     as   well   as   the   recent   war   following   the   break-­‐up   of   Yugoslavia   and  

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Kosovo  separatism.  My  hope  is  that  by  the  end  of  this  chapter,  it  will  be  clear  that  a  nation  
is   a   very   intangible   and   fluid   political   concept   reinforced   by   nationalism,   a   social   force  
which   has   enabled   national   elites   and   state   to   gain   loyalty   of   the   people,   and   which   has  
facilitated   the   people’s   understanding   of   their   place   in   a   world   that   is   too   complex   to   be  
comprehended   without   the   use   of   myth.     This   thesis   will   begin   by   explaining   what   a   nation  
is  and  what  form  the  concept  has  taken  in  the  Balkans  and  Serbia  in  particular.  Before  we  
focus   on   the   least   necessary   level   of   historical   detail,   however,   let’s   consider   the   cultural  
function  and  meaning  of  nations  and  national  narratives  at  large.    
 
1.  THE  CULTURAL  FUNCTION  OF  NATIONS  AND  NATIONAL  MYTHS  
The   concept   of   a   nation   is   modern   in   the   eye   of   a   historian,   but   ancient   in   the   mind   of   a  
nationalist   (Anderson   1983,   Eriksen   2010).   While   David   Riesman   first   used   the   term  
“ethnicity”   in   a   scholarly   article   published   only   in   1953,   discussions   of   belonging,   race,   and  
nation   have   been   at   the   core   of   anthropology   since   the   very   beginning   of   the   discipline’s  
existence.   Since   then,   one’s   ethnicity   has     been   assumed   to   be   defined   by   individuals   based  
on   their   sense   of   belonging   and   a   contrast   to   the   ethnic   ‘other’.   Nation-­‐alism,   therefore,  
should  be  understood  as  a  political  ideology,  which  reinforces  a  recognition  of  individuals  
as  the  essential  guardians  of  national  consciousness  and  the  physical  representatives  of  a  
nation.  In  this  thesis  I  will  not  be  making  a  precise  distinction  between  nationalism  as  an  
“official”  state-­‐sponsored  ideology,  and  nationalism  as  a  grassroots  political  movement,  as  
suggested  by  Theodore  Weeks  in  his  writings  on  Soviet  and  post-­‐Soviet  regions  in  Europe  
(1996).  While  valid  in  the  context  of  Weeks’s  focus  on  the  role  of  ethnic  minorities  in  the  
break-­‐up   of   the   USSR,   my   approach   is   informed   by   the   interdependence   and   inseparable  
nature  of  the  state  nationalism  and  popular  nationalism  in  the  Serbian  public  space.  I  will  
therefore  be  treating  nationalism  as  an  ideology  which  guides  both  the  political  elites  and  
the  general  population,  and  as  a  dominant  socio-­‐cultural  framework  of  reference  in  times  
of  political  and  social  transition.      
   Today   much   of   the   academic   discourse   on   nationalism   rests   on   the   foundation   of  
Benedict   Anderson’s   argument   in   Imagined   Communities   (1983),   and   my   work   follows   that  
approach.   Anderson   concluded   that   national   groups   are   formed   from   relatively   large  
groups   of   individuals   who   self-­‐identify   as   a   homogenous,   sovereign   group   different   from  

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other   groups,   despite   not   knowing   each   other   and   never   being   able   to   experience   the  
nation   in   its   entirety.   A   nation,   therefore,   is   entirely   culturally   constructed   and   based   in  
nothing   but   a   collective   imagination   of   common   characteristics   within   equally   imaginary  
boundaries.   Nationalism,   therefore,   serves   as   a   social   force   aimed   at   the   distribution   of  
such   understanding   among   the   individuals   within   the   perceived   national   borders.     The  
origin   of   the   homogeneity   perceived   by   the   individuals   belonging   to   the   same   imagined  
national   entity,   however,   has   been   explained   in   various   ways.   For   simplicity’s   sake,   I   am  
presenting  only  a  very  brief  overview  of  scholarly  view  on  nationalism  and  its  tools,  such  as  
national  narratives.    
  Theorists  agree  that  nation  states  derive  legitimacy  from  their  citizen’s  perception  
of   belonging   to   the   nation.   The   origin   of   their   sense   of   belonging,   however,   is   contested.  
Two   major   views   on   ethnicity   prevail   within   the   discipline.   The   basic   dichotomy  
distinguishes  between  the  primordialist  and  the  constructivist  models.  Such  classification  
differentiates   between   theories   which   assume   a   deeply   rooted,   historical   connection  
between   national   identity   and   a   political   unit   and   theories   highlighting   the   concept   of   a  
nation   as   artificial,   constructed   phenomenon   with   political   and   economic   functionality  
(Geertz  1973,  Shils  1957,  Barth  1969,  Cohen  1974,  Anderson  1983).  While  constructivists  
consider   nations   to   be   modern   and   its   homogeneous   features   constructed,   primordialists  
see   them   as   ancient   phenomena     on   which   modern   nation-­‐states   are   built.   These  
classifications,  however,  should  be  treated  not  as  discreet  categories,  but  rather  as  opposite  
ends  of  a  continuum  along  which  scholars  and  theories  are  scattered.  For  example,  scholars  
classified  as  symbolists  combine  features  of  constructivism  and  primordialism  in  that  they  
recognize   the   validity   of   pre-­‐modern   cultural   roots   when   used   to   consolidate   modern  
ethnic  ideologies  and  nationalisms  for  political  purpose  (e.g.  Smith  1986).    
   Regardless  of  its  primordial  or  constructed  nature,  ethnicity,  the  natural  or  artificial  
justification  of  national  unity,  is  a  criterion  demarking  cultural  groups,  classifying  peoples,  
borders,   and   group   relationships.   The   classification   creates   standardized   cognitive   maps  
and   detailed   categories   of   the   ‘others’as   a   guide   to   the   socially   complex   world   surrounding  
us   (Eriksen   2010:   72).   For   our   purposes,   however,   the   effective   qualities   of   ethnicity   and  
ensuing   nationalism   will   be   crucial   regardless   of   the   theoretical   origin   of   the   claim   for  
homogeneity.   Nationalism,   therefore,   has   the   capacity   to   operate   as   a   very   powerful  

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political  tool,  serving  to  reinforce  a  certain  (yet  very  much  imagined)  nation-­‐specific  sense  
of  belonging  to  the  world  among  the  individuals  representing  the  nation.  
 
2.  MANIFESTATIONS  OF  THE  NATIONAL  MYTH  IN  THE  REAL  WORLD  
   Nation   states,   the   primary   socio-­‐political   actors   of   global   society   today,   are   thus  
able   to   derive   political   legitimacy   by   convincing   the   masses   that   the   state   administration  
represents   them   as   a   cultural   unit   while   at   the   same   time   having   a   privileged   position   in  
informing   their   citizen’s   sense   of   belonging.   The   primary   instruments   of   such   convincing  
and  informing  are  national  myths  and  narratives.  The  national(ist)  myth  is,  in  fact,  a  State  
ideology   of   sorts.   This   collection   of   ideas   can   be   also   be   thought   of   as   a   comprehensive  
vision,   as   a   way   of   understanding   the   world   surrounding   an   individual   who   thinks   about   it  
through  a  certain  ideological  lens.    Should  we  privilege  the  constructivist  perspective  with  
regards  to  nationalism,  ideology  would  also  represent  a  set  of  ideas  crafted  and  sustained  
by   social   elites,   and   inflicted   onto   the   remaining   members   of   a   society.   The   fragmented  
legacy  of  Italian  historian  Antonio  Gramsci  might  serve  well  to  contextualize  my  writing  on  
national(ist)  narratives  within  the  debates  on  ideology  and  cultural  hegemony  .    
 
“In  every  country  the  process  is  different,  although  the  content  is  the  same.  
And  the  content  is  the  crisis  of  the  ruling  class’s  hegemony,  which  occurs  …  
because  the  ruling  class  has  failed  in  some  major  political  undertaking  for  
which  it  has  requested,  or  forcibly  extracted,  the  consent  of  the  broad  masses  
(war,  for  example)  …    A  “crisis  of  authority”  is  spoken  of:  this  is  precisely  the  
crisis  of  hegemony,  or  general  crisis  of  the  State”  (Gramsci  1973:  210)  
 
Arguing  that  the  political  and  social  elites  wield  a  form  of  ideological  hegemony  over  the  
rest  of  the  society,  Gramsci  asserts  that  their  power  is  centralized  in  and  exercised  through  
the  State,  as  well  as  through  media,  family  traditions  and  religious  institutions  (1973).  Not  
only  is  such  theory  applicable  to  our  debate  on  nationalism,  but  his  estimate  of  the  sources  
of  nationalism  fits  the  Serbian  case  perfectly.  Eriksen,  too,  reminds  us,  that  “ethnicity  is  not  
shaped  by  objective  culture”,  but  rather  by  selective  manipulation  of  the  historical  myth  of  
a  nation  by  national  authorities  (2010:  86).      
  As  the  mixed  ethnic  mosaic  of  the  Balkans  shows  (see  map  on  the  next  page),  
however,  the  power  of  the  state  to  influence  self-­‐identification  of  its  subjects  is  imperfect.  

  25  
In  the  real  world,  politically  determined  borders  sometimes  fail  to  overlap  with  the  self-­‐
identification  of  those  inhabiting  the  land,  especially  if  the  land  is  contested  by  competing  
imaginations  of  rival  national  groups.  Because  unlike  the  real  world,  imagined  borders  of  
nations  are  intangible  and  mutually  independent.  Their  overlap  is  possible  in  theory  but  
complicated  and  often  violent  in  practice.    
  “Ethnically  mixed  regions”  such  as  large  portions  of  the  Balkans  emerge  because  to  
people,  quite  understandingly,  political  changes  aren’t  in  significant  enough  of  a  reason  to  
move  correspondingly  with  the  national  narratives  currently  in  place.  Throughout  history  
the  ethnic  sub-­‐groups  of  the  South  Slavs  have  found  themselves  both  under  separate  self-­‐
governed  states  and  as  parts  of  a  larger  multiethnic  state  formation.  Because  the  separating  
and  joining  of  state  administrations  repeatedly  broadened  and  then  narrowed  the  identity  
divisions   specifying   one’s   ethnicity   in   the   Balkans   as   “Croat”,   “Serb”,   or   “Bosniak”,   these  
identities   remain   to   this   day   questionable,   fluid,   and,   indeed,   very   much   imagined  
(Anderson   1983).   For   centuries,   the   narratives   situating   the   South   Slav   people   within  
history  have  also  been  changing.  Some  have  praised  the  common  origin  of  all  South  Slavs,  
and   some   have   chosen   certain   identity   components   (most   often   religion)   to   present   the  
Catholic  Croats,    Orthodox  Serbs  and  Muslim  Bosniaks  as  separate  cultural  units.      
 
 
Figure  1  
Ethnic  outlook  of  the  Balkans  in  1992  
(Wikimedia)  

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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   When   narratives   outlining   the   borders   of   nations   change,   the   lived   experience   of  
belonging   becomes   complicated,   and   the   extent   to   which   individuals   within   the   groups  
adapt  to  the  change  varies.  The  narratives  used  to  justify  the  change  of  who  belongs  to  the  
national  unit  and  who  does  not  are  often  based  in  a  selective  reinterpretation  of  history.  If  a  
nation   needs   to   be   defined   more   narrowly,   historical   experiences   selected   will   highlight  
oppression   of   the   central   group   by   the   others   or   incompatibility   of   the   cultures   considered  
to  be  distinct.    If  a  nation  needs  to  be  defined  more  broadly,  common  historical  experiences  
and  similarities  will  be  emphasized.  Groups  subjected  to  change  thus  experience  a  conflict  
between   their   lived   experience   of   the   past,   and   the   alternative   interpretation   of   the   past.    
This   combination   of   “real   and   imagined   experience   of   the   past”   in   mythical   national  
histories   is   what   Benedict   Anderson   calls   the   “Angel   of   History”   (1983:   147).   In   Serbia   and  
elsewhere,   such   mixing   of   the   real   and   the   imagined   created   an   opportunity   for   the  
manufacturing  of  a  continuous  national  history  from  originally  disconnected  events,  ideas  
and   figures   for   the   purpose   of   establishing   or   strengthening   of   a   national   community  
throughout   the   20th   century   (Čolović,   2002:   5).   The     national   narrative   thus   serves   to  
influence  the  collective  memory  of  the  past  and  consequently  the  nation’s  understanding  of  
the  present.        
  Above   all,   the   Balkans   offers   an   ideal   laboratory   for   all   scholars   interested   in  
exploring   and   proposing   new   theories   of   nationalism,   ethnicity,   and   conflict.   A   complex  
history   of   the   Balkan   nations   as   pawns   in   the   games   of   European   Great   Powers   provides  
endless   data   that   can   support   both   constructivists   and   primordialist   theories.   As   the  
Slovenian  historian  Ljubišić  notes,  neither  of  the  explanations  are  wrong,  but  when  isolated  
they   fail   to   encompass   the   region’s   complexity.   “Both   constructivist   and   primordialist  
theories   have   simplified   the   intricacy   of   the   national   question   in   Yugoslavia   and   it  
dismemberment  as  a  state.  In  fact,  both  theses  -­‐  the  ancient  hatreds  and  the  artificiality  of  
the  country  -­‐  have  imposed  a  false  dilemma  on  Yugoslavia’s  case  by  ignoring  the  broader  
international,  particularly  geopolitical,  context.”  (Ljubišić  2004:24)  
  My  own  view  of  contemporary  Serbian  nationalism  is  that  it  is  largely  instrumental  
and   that   it   serves   the   Serbian   state   and   people   in   navigating   and   framing   the   ideological  
chaos  of  transition.  Re-­‐creating  the  sentiment  of  continuity  with  the  past  in  facing  the  chaos  
of  modernity,  nationalism  inspires  cohesion  and  loyalty  on  a  mass  scale  (Weber  1976).  In  

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Serbia’s  case,  belonging  to  the  national  community  has  been  defined  in  opposition  to  and  as  
a   means   of   mobilizing   against   ‘the   (Muslim)   Turks’   who   ruled   a   significant   portion   of   the  
Balkans  between  the  14th  and  the  19th  centuries,  and  in  more  recent  history,  by  extension  
against  the  Bosnian  Muslims,  and  ‘the  Catholics’  (the  Croats  and  the  West).  Both  the  West  
and  the  Muslims  together  form  the  primary  adversaries  in  the  narrative  through  which  a  
large  portion  of  Serbian  people  understands  their  place  in  the  world.   No  single  explanation  
of   the   region’s   history   can   capture   the   lived   experience   of   all   of   its   Croat,   Serb,   and   Muslim  
inhabitants.  Because  of  a  close  connection  between  myth  and  individual  understanding  of  
one’s   contemporary   circumstances,   during   the   recent   past   the   national   narratives   in   the  
Balkans  gained  almost  tangible  form  for  those  who  accepted  them  as  explanations  for  their  
world  order.    
 
3.  THE  NATIONAL(IST)  MYTH  IN  CONTEMPORARY  SERBIA  
  In  a  simplified  Western  view  of  the  20th  century,  Serbia  is  often  painted  in  dark  colors.  
Gavrilo  Princip,  the  man  who  shot  Austrian  archduke  Franc  Ferdinand  and  contributed  a  lot  
to   the   final   escalation   of   tensions   that   led   to   the   First   World   War   was   a   Bosnian   Serb.   The  
prevailing   western   narrative   of   the   Yugoslav   break-­up   in   the   1990's   places   blame   for   the  
escalation  of  the  war  as  well  as  the  worst  known  atrocities  of  that  war  on  the  Serbs.  NATO's  
bombing   of   Belgrade   in   1999   as   a   means   for   imposing   peace   upon   the   region   in   only  
reinforces  that  image.  
  There   are   many   gross   generalizations   in   this   view,   but   picking   and   choosing   from  
among   over-­‐simplified   historical   facts   is   commonplace   in   the   context   of   Balkan   national  
historical   consciousness.   The   Serbian   ethno-­‐national-­‐myth,   passed   on   from   generation   to  
generation   through   literature,   folklore,   Orthodox   Christianity,   and   history   textbooks,  
frames  Serbia  as  "the  single  nation  true  to  God",  the  last  bastion  of  "true  European  values"  
unstained  by  "capitalist  decay",  and  as  the  victim  of  unjust  historical  "anti-­‐Serb  conspiracy"  
of  the  West  (Čolović  2002).     While  the  story  is  rarely  evoked  in  its  entirety,  its  fragments  
continue  to  serve  to  this  day  as  a  reference,  a  moral  compass,  a  justification  and  a  rationale  
for  aggressions  in  Serbia's  past.     The  myth  presents  both  a  cultural  model  of  and  a  model  
for   collective   behavior   in   times   of   socio-­‐political   transition   in   Serbia   and   insecurities   about  
changing  power  hierarchy  (Geertz  1973:  93).  As  Geertz  first  pointed  out  in  his  analysis  of  

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religion  as  a  cultural  system  (1973),  cultural  symbols  such  as  mythical  narratives,  serve  as  
explanation   charts,   models   of   reality,   "rendering   …   [it]   apprehensible"   (93).  
Simultaneously,   however,   the   narratives   serve   as   models   for   what   the   people   inhabiting  
that   reality   ought   to   strive   for.   In   the   case   of   nationalism   as   a   cultural   system   of  
symbols,  the   narratives   serve   to   strengthen   the   loyalty   to   the   nation   state   and   to   the   old  
arrangement  of  social  values  and  ideological  frameworks  familiar  to  the  majority  from  the  
past.    
  The   continued   adherence   to   the   nationalist   myth   and   its   narratives   in   Serbia   is  
natural  in  environments  where  power  structures  are  being  rebuilt  and  ideological  direction  
of   societies   determined.   Jessica   Greenberg,   examining   the   peculiar   rise   of   nationalist  
rhetoric,   violence,   homophobia,   misogyny   and   racism   in   Serbia   during   the   early   2000’s,  
points   our   that   such   developments   are   to   be   expected   in   context   where   “those   who   were  
dominant   within   nationalist   frameworks   [during   and   before   the   war]   struggle   to   retain  
political  relevance,  representation  and  a  sense  of  agency”  (2006:336).    The  re-­‐emergence  of  
nationalism   and   particular   nationalist   narratives   in   Serbia   is   thus   not   a   direct   continuation  
of  the  previous  trends  (even  though  the  actors  and  narratives  of  war-­‐time  nationalism  do  
continue  to  figure  in  the  public  space  with  renewed  agendas).  Rather,  the  new  nationalism  
is  a  result  of  changing  order  and  the  insecurities  that  transition  brings.  While  the  battle  in  
public   space   is   waged   between   straight   and   gay,   patriarchy   and   feminism,   Serbs   and  
minorities,   Orthodoxy   and   Islam   or   secularism,   the   civilno   družstvo   and   the   nationalist  
groups,  what  is  at  stake  is  the  ability  to  determine  the  direction  of  the  country.  “Inclusion  
and  tolerance  are  not  neutral  categories,  but  sets  of  ideologies  and  practices  through  which  
other   exclusions   are   produced,”   Greenberg   concludes   (2006:336).   Present-­‐day   Serb  
nationalism,   while   employing   narratives   that   flow   from   the   historical   Serbian   myth,   must  
thus  be  understood  as  a  response  to  the  threat  of  possible  liberalization  of  society  and  the  
danger  it  poses  to  old  hierarchies  of  social  significance.    
  Rather  than  engaging  in  an  exhausting  historical  investigation  into  the  origins  of  the  
myth  like  many  have  done  before  me  (Kalajić  1993,  Vucerević  1999,  Čolović  2002,  Bringa  
2005b),   I   present   only   what   is   necessary   for   our   understanding   the   existing   cognitive  
frameworks   in   contemporary   Serbia.     In   order   to   contextualize   the   dominant   Serbian  
narratives   that   I   am   about   to   introduce,   let   me   begin   by   very   briefly   outlining   the   last  

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couple   centuries   in   what   we   now   call   the   Balkans.   Details,   as   well   as   blame   and  
justifications,   largely   omitted   in   the   following   narrative,   remain   contested   and  
controversial.   (Even   mass   graves   are   at   times   disputed   as   a   valid   evidence   of     war-­‐time  
violence  as  I  show  in  chapter  Five.)3  :  
  The  Balkans,  comprising  of  the  contemporary  states  of  Slovenia,  Croatia,  Bosnia  and  
Herzegovina,   Serbia,   Montenegro,   Albania   and   Macedonia,   has   long   played   a   role   of   the  
chessboard   on   which   Great   Powers   of   the   time   negotiated   their   power   struggles.   The  
earliest   modern   instance   of   outsider   aggression   was   the   expansion   of   Ottoman   empire.  
Loosing  the  Battle  of  Kosovo  Polje  (Crow’s  field)  against  the  Ottomans  in  1389,  the  Serbs  
and  allied  South  Slavic  kingdoms  fell  under  Turkish  rule  for  over  four  centuries.  The  extent  
to   which   the   Ottoman   rule   was   or   wasn’t   atrocious   is   contested,   but   varying   levels   of  
autonomous  rule  prevailed  as  did  cultural  Slav  heritage  and  language.  Portions  of  the  Slav  
populations   converted   to   Islam   during   this   period   in   time.   With   the   decline   of   the   Ottoman  
Empire   in   late   18th   century,   the   Turkish   power   grip   on   the   region   began   to   weaken.   The  
Congress   of   Berlin   in   1878,   headed   by   the   German   Chancellor   Otto   von   Bismarck   and  
representatives   of   the   European   Great   Powers   at   the   time,   sought   to   avoid   war   by  
reorganizing   the   geopolitically   strategic   region   according   to   the   interests   of   the   Great  
Powers.   Austria-­‐Hungary   was   awarder   large   portion   of   the   western   Balkan   territories  
including   the   territory   of   today’s   Bosnia,   independent   states   of   Serbia   and   Macedonia   were  
recreated—albeit  with  smaller  territories,  and  the  reach  of  the  Ottoman  power  was  pushed  
back   to   the   East.   Grievances   resulting   from   such   arrangements,   however,   lead   to   two   small  
regional  conflicts  -­‐  the  Balkan  Wars  of  1912  and  1913.  The  local  powers,  dissatisfied  with  
the  territorial  gains  awarded  to  them  by  the  Great  Powers,  waged  common  war  against  the  
remains   of   the   Ottoman   Empire   as   well   as   against   each   other   to   reclaim   territory   they  
historically  asserted  as  theirs.  By  1914,  Ottoman  Empire  lost  virtually  all  of  its  territory  in  
Europe,   and   rule   of   the   Austro-­‐Hungarian   empire   was   weakened   by   the   Serb   westward  
expansion.  When  Archduke  Ferdinand  was  killed  by  a  Serb  in  Austria-­‐annexed  Sarajevo  in  
1914,   Austria-­‐Hungary   used   the   event   to   assert   its   territorial   claims   on   the   Balkans   by  
                                                                                                               
3  This  historical  summary  is  based  on  Sell  (2002),  Ramet  &  Pavlakovic  (2006),  Ljubiscic  (2004),  

Lampe  (2000)  and  Lane  (2004)  

 

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declaring  war  on  Serbia,  and  thus  activating  a  network  of  alliance  treaties  that  shortly  after  
saw  the  entire  continent  engaged  in  the  trenches  of  the  First  World  War.    
  Following  the  conflict,  the  Balkans  emerged  on  the  victorious  side.  A  new  Kingdom  
of   Serbs,   Croats,   and   Slovenes   was   established,   uniting   the   South   Slav   nations   in   a   single  
entity   covering   the   territory   of   the   entire   Western   Balkans.   Both   Ottoman   Empire   and  
Austria-­‐Hungary  were  officially  dissolved.  In  1939,  the  expansionist  Italy  under  Mussolini’s  
leadership  attacked  the  independent  country  of  Albania,  however.  Loosing  on  the  Albanian-­‐
Greek  front,  the  Italians  were  aided  by  German  Nazi  forces,  who  made  their  way  from  the  
continental   North   though   the   South   Slav   kingdom.   The   Nazis   annexed   large   parts   of   the  
Balkans   and   recruited   local   people   to   manage   the   territory,   while   guerilla   fighting   between  
the  Croat  and  the  anti-­‐Nazi  Serb  forces  broke  out;    consequently  the  propaganda  resulting  
from   this   conflict   planted   the   first   seeds   of   future   strife   between   the   two.   Following   the   fall  
of  Germany,  the  all-­‐Slav  socialist  Yugoslavia  was  re-­‐united  under  the  rule  of  General  Broz  
Tito.  The  federation  included  the  south-­‐Serbian  province  of  Kosovo,  densely  populated  by  
Albanian-­‐speaking   Muslim   population.   Yugoslavia   enjoyed   the   role   of   a   middle-­‐man  
spearheading   the   Non-­‐Alignment   movement   during   the   Cold   War,   as   well   as   relative  
security   of   socialist   life   guarantees   accompanied   by   the   continent-­‐wide   economic   boom.  
The  death  of  Broz  Tito  in  1980  coincided  with  the  all-­‐European  economic  downfall  related  
to   the   1973   Oil   crisis,   however.   Similarly   to   the   rest   of   Europe,   financial   hardship   called  
into   question   the   viability   of   the   current   system.   Yugoslavia   slowly   opened   up   to   liberal  
market   mechanisms   an   to   privatization.   A   new   Federal   structure   of   power-­‐sharing   was  
established,  but  economic  conditions  continued  to  decline,  as  did  the  people’s  satisfaction  
with   the   Federation’s   governance.   Yugoslav   republics   chose   to   solve   their   problems  
individually,   opening   up   to   Western   markets   and   implementing   Western   models   of  
democratic   governance   at   different   rates.   Economic   issues   were   translated   into   popular  
ethnic   grievances   (e.g.   “the   Serbs   controlled   the   economy   and   gained   most   profit”),   and  
soon  Slovenia  and  Croatia  announced  their  secession  from  the  union  in  the  June  of  1991.  
After   Bosnia   and   Herzegovina,   the   most   ethnically   mixed   republic   of   the   Federation,  
declared   independence,   a   mass   movement   of   people   and   violence   ensued.   The   best  
equipped   Yugoslav   People’s   Army,   now   composed   largely   of   Serbs,   as   well   the   newly  
created   armies   of   Croatia   and   (predominantly   Muslim)   army   of   Bosnia,   began   fighting   over  

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territories   within   their   imagined   borders   that   did   not   align   with   the   Yugoslav   republic  
borders.   All   federal   institutions   of   the   Socialist   Federal   Republic   were   dissolved,   and   a  
bloody  ethnic  cleansing  campaigns  ravaged  the  region  until  1995,  when  joined  diplomatic  
and  military  efforts  of  the  US  and  NATO  suspended  the  fighting  and  the  local  adversaries  
were  persuaded  to  sign  the  Dayton  Peace  agreement.  The  Dayton  treaty  also  established  an  
international  governance  oversight  over  the  state  of  Bosnia  and  Herzegovina,  from  there  on  
separated   into   three   parts   -­‐   Republika   Srpska   (the   Serb   republic),   inhabited   almost  
exclusively   by   Serbs,   the   small,   ethnically   mixed   Brčko   district,   and   a   mixed,   but   largely  
Bosniak  and  Croat  Federation  of  Bosnia  and  Herzegovina.    
  The   Serbs   and   Montenegrins,   the   only   ones   not   to   secede   from   the   Yugoslav  
Federation,  joined  into  a  common  state  after  the  conclusion  of  the  war  (before  separating  
again   in   2006).   Continued   ethnic   unrest   in   the   autonomous   province   of   Kosovo   quickly  
escalated   into   a   full-­‐scale   conflict   in   1999,   with   Kosovo   fighting   for   a   complete  
independence   from   Serbia.   While   predominantly   Albanian,   a   significant   percentage   of  
inhabitants   identified   as   Serbian,   and   both   sides   engaged   brutal   inter-­‐ethnic   cleansing,  
even   though   the   question   of   who   killed   more   remains   controversial.   The   land   carried   a  
special  religious  and  historical  significance  to  Serbia,  and  international  negotiations  failed  
to   contain   the   violence.   After   a   Russian   veto   in   the   United   Nations   Security   Council,  
economic   sanctions   against   Serbia   and   numerous   warnings   and   attempts   to   avoid   direct  
engagement.,  the  NATO  alliance,  convinced  of  Serbian  aggression  in  the  conflict,  resolved  to  
intervene.   Serbia   proper,   including   the   capital   of   Belgrade   was   bombed   until   president  
Milošević   agreed   to   a   cease   fire   and   remove   the   Serbian   army   from   Kosovo.   The   peace  
agreement   placed   Kosovo   under   international   oversight,   and   after   an   attempted   electoral  
fraud  in  2000  president  Milošević  lost  his  political  footing  in  Serbia.  The  country  has  been  
struggling  with  both  economic  and  political  transition,  with  a  poorly  performing  economy  
and   deep   ambivalence   towards   Western   investment,   which   they   both   need   and   resent.   The  
country   has   not   recognized   Kosovo’s   independence,   declared   in   2008,   and   only   slowly  
secedes   its   powers   in   the   province,   conditioned   by   the   promise   of   accession   talks   to   the  
European  Union.    
 

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SERBIAN  NATIONAL(IST)  NARRATIVES  
 
Very  little  of  the  Balkan  history  remains  uncontested,  perhaps  because  of  the  ferocity  with  
which  separate  Serbian,  Croatian  and  Bosnian  national  narratives  needed  to  be  empowered  
and   distinguished   from   each   other   in   the   run   up   to   the   war   of   the   90’s.   In   order   to   move  
beyond   the   skeleton   of   historical   facts   we   need   to   assume   a   lens,   a   framework   through  
which  we  will  be  able  to   observe  how  a  nation  analyzes  and  judges  its  own  participation  in  
the  making  of  history.  We  should  always  keep  in  mind  that  national  narratives  are,  just  like  
nations,   imagined—-­‐   abstract,   and   carefully   constructed   to   serve   a   political   purpose.   Not  
every  question  has  a  rational  answer,  not  every  explanation  fits  in  well  with  all  the  others.  
As  I  have  shown  earlier  in  this  chapter,  national  narratives  provide  a  toolkit  of  devices  with  
which  individuals  situate  themselves  within  the  larger  world  that  they  are  unable  to  see  for  
themselves.  During  this  process  of  orienting  oneself,  the  contours  of  the  world  remain  only  
partially  sketched  and  very  much  intangible.  The  structure  resulting  from  making  sense  of  
the   world   then   resembles,   more   than   anything,   a   fluid   myth,   a   composition   of   facts   and  
figures   which   together   piece   out   an   argument.   Often   that   argument   asserts   that   the    
individual  belongs  to  a  group  of  the  “good  ones”,  “just  ones”,  and  that  in  the  large  scale  of  
things,   their   nation   stands   on   the   right   side   of   history.   The   state-­‐sponsored,   dominant  
Serbian  narrative  is  no  different.    
  Serbians  who  adhere  to  the  myth  imagine  their  nation’s  role  in  the  world  as  that  of  a  
heroic,   honest   nation   protecting   the   uncorrupted   Slavic   “spirit”,   wit,   and   morality.   In  
opposition  to  such  motive  then  stands  the  motive  of  an  aggressive,  exploitative,  and  slightly  
simple-­‐minded   outsider.   During   my   fieldwork   I   recognized   bits   and   pieces   of   this   narrative  
mirrored  in  daily  news  segments,  conversations  at  the  city  market,  as  well  as  in  the  words  
of   my   informants.     The   two   opposing   motives   of   Serbia   against   the   world   were   repeated   in  
the  hot  topic  of  Serbia’s  EU  accession  talks,  as  well  as  in  people’s  understanding  of  the  long-­‐
gone  past  such  as  the  Ottoman  occupation.  Nowhere  was  I  able  to  read  the  narrative  from  
its   beginning   to   its   end   in   a   historically   valid   order.   The   following   paragraphs   thus  
summarize  and  frame  the  segments  I  collected  both  during  my  time  in  Belgrade  and  during  
my   secondary   research.   Wealth   of   the   information   I   present   comes   from   a   2010  
documentary   movie   by   Boris   Malgurski,   recommended   to   me   by   almost   every   one   of   my  

  33  
conservative   and   politically   uninvolved   informants   and   acquaintances   from   outside   the  
liberal   circles.   During   the   interviews,   I   asked   my   informants   to   perform   a   small   exercise  
and  summarize  Serbian  history  in  a  couple  of  sentences.  While  some  outlined  parts  of  the  
national   narrative   for   me   (“Serbia   was   always   a   victim   to   outsider   aggression..”),   others  
insisted   I   watch   Malgurski’s   Weight   of   Chains   (2010).   Their   insistence   that   I   watch   the  
movie  instead  of  having  to  tell  their  own  narrative  of  the  past  was  curious  to  me.  The  film,  
which   to   me   seemed   rather   crudely   made,   has   a   strong   aura   of   nationalist   propaganda.   I  
was   extremely   surprised   at   how   often   it   was   cited   by   my   informants,   sophisticated,   well-­‐
educated   urbanites.   I   attribute   their   recommendation   to   watch   the   movie   and   difficulty  
with  piecing  the  story  together  by  themselves  to  its  inner  contradictions  and  a  peculiar  mix  
of  facts  and  historical  imagination  which  arise  from  the  narrative’s  mythical  nature.  Second  
source   helpful   to   me   in   the   pursuit   of   the   dominant   narrative   was   a   book   written   by   a  
Serbian  anthropologist  Ivan  Čolović  in  2002,  who  analyzed  both  folk  origins  of  the  Serbian  
national   narrative,   and   its   implications   for   contemporary   Serbia.     “The   whole   remains   only  
latent,”  Čolović  asserts,  “as  the  mainstream  to  which  the  scattered  parts  of  the  myth  point,  
to  which  they  flow.  In  fact,  they  function  as  synecdochic  figures  of  the  whole”(2002:10).  In  
the   following   paragraphs   I   will   thus   try   to   collect   manifestations   of   the   myth   and   piece  
them  together  into  a  coherent  structure.  Understanding  of  such  framework  as  a  reference  
point  that  majority  of  Serbs  and  the  Serbian  state  utilize  for  all  that  is  insecure  in  the  world  
will  later  help  us  to  appreciate  the  contrasting  narratives  that  circulate  in  the  liberal  circles.    
   
THE  SLAV  SPIRIT:  UNITED  WE  ARE  STRONG    
  Folklore,  daily  politics,  history  textbooks,  pop  culture,  as  well  as  the  media  highlight  
the   Serbian   nation’s   superb   morality.   The   motive   gets   repeated   in   reference   to   the   Serbs’  
peasant  origins  and  their  simple,  natural  wit,  and  in  reference  to  the  Serbian  dedication  to  
the   idea   of   a   common   Slavic   state.   Yearning   for   the   old   times   of   the   Socialist   Yugoslavia  
(sometimes  mentioned  in  context  of  yearning  for  a  Greater  Serbia)  —a  sentiment  known  in  
the   Balkans   as   Yugonostalgia   (Boym   2001,   Greenberg   2010,   2011,   Gordy   2013)   —
illustrates   well   the   yearning   for   the   reunification   of   all   South   Slavs   that   is   central   to   the  
Serbian  myth.    

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   At  the  base  of  the  myth  lies  the  notion  of  a  unique  connection  that  the  Serbs  have  
with   God   and   the   forces   of   nature.   The   Serbs   pride   themselves   in   maintaining   the   “God-­‐
given   characteristics”   in   the   mountains   and   valleys   of   the   pristine   Serbian   nature   despite  
the   challenges   of   history   (Čolović     2002:   22).   This   idealization   of   village   life   is   largely  
contrasted  to  the  nihilism  of  modernity,  which  has  taken  over  the  rest  of  Europe,  making  
Serbia   the   only   guardian   of   the   old   values   and   the   only   place   which   was   able   retain   “the  
natural  man  and  the  natural  communities”(ibid.:  23).  “The  question  of  Serbian  belonging  to  
Europe   is   so   absurd,”   Djordje,   a   young,   politically   conservative   student   of   law   said   to   me  
during  our  interview.  “In  the  Battle  of  Kosovo  we  defended  the  entire  Europe,    the  European  
religion,   as   well   as   our   own   nation.   Today   the   West   isn’t   very   grateful   to   us,”   he   explained  
bitterly.    Such  framing  of  the  Serb  historical  role  as  the  sole  guardian  of  the  old  wisdom  and  
connection   to   God   is   far   from   unusual.   “We   need   to   return   to   God   in   our   daily   lives,”  
Nemanja,   another   of   my   informants   said.   “We   must   separate   ourselves   from   the   Western  
influence,   we   need   to   wake   up   and   protect   our   own   identity.”   In   this   Myth   the   loss   of   Serbian  
tradition   is   connected   to   the   resistance   to   the   globalizing   influences   encroaching   onto  
Serbia  and  onto  the  other  Southern  Slav  people.    
  The   motive   of   the   Slav   spirit   further   celebrates   Serbs   as   the   Slavs   who   at   various  
historical   moments   tried   to   preserve   Slav   unity   in   which   everyone   thrives   the   best.   “The  
idea   was   that   as   long   as   the   South   Slavs   stay   together,   they   will   not   fall   prey   to   some  
imperialist   outsider,”   Boris   Malgurski   asserts   at   the   beginning   of   his   documentary  
mentioned   earlier   (2010).   Gavrilo   Princip,   the   Bosniak   Serb   who   killed   the   Austro-­‐
Hungarian  Arch-­‐Duke  Ferdinand  in  Sarajevo  in  1914,  initiating  the  impulse  for  a  world  war,  
is  celebrated  as  a  Slav  hero  in  Serbia.  “I  am  a  Slav  nationalist,  aiming  for  the  unification  of  all  
South  Slavs.  We  must  be  free  from  Austria,”  Princip  is  supposed  to  have  written,  as  cited  in  
historical   textbooks   (e.g.   Lusic   2012).   After   the   conclusion   of   World   War   I,   the   myth  
reminds  the  South  Slavs  that  once  again  they  prospered  under  the  leadership  of  the  Serb  
royalty  in  spite  of  the  West  (Malgurski  2010,  Čolović    2002).  Fast  forward,  the  prosperity  of  
Yugoslavia   in   the   1950’s   and   1960’s   represents   the   ultimate   proof   of   how   powerful   and  
self-­‐sufficient   the   South   Slavs   can   be,   if   united.   “Yugoslavia   was   prospering,   with   over   6%  
GDP   growth   annually,   free   medical   care   and   education,   guaranteed   right   to   a   job,   literacy  
over  90%,  life  expectancy  over  72%,”  Malgurski  (2010)  supplements  the  daily  conversations  

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on  the  street  corners  about  the  “good  old  times”.  Despite  the  pride  in  unity,  recognition  of  
failures  to  stay  united  is  also  preserved  in  the  Serb  narrative.  “Some  of  us  had  fallen  to  the  
propaganda  of  those  hungry  for  power,”  Malgurski  is  critical  of  the  war-­‐time  hate  rhetoric  
coming   from   Croatia,   Slovenia,   and   Bosnia   (2010).   While   some   will   be   more   ready   than  
others  to  denounce  the  Serbian  war-­‐time  leadership  (part  of  which  remains  in  the  current  
Serbian  government),  what  all  my  conservative  informants  and  secondary  sources  have  in  
common   is   the   portrayal   of   the   Serbs   as   those   who   fought   the   longest   against   the   break-­‐up  
of  the  South-­‐Slav  unity  and  who  are  most  unhappy  about  it.          
   
ALL  AGAINST  THE  SLAVS  
The   second   motive   of   the   national   Serbian   myth   assumes   that   because   Slavs   are  
dangerously   mighty   when   united,   the   outsiders   have   and   will   always   try   to   prevent   or  
break  up  their  unification.    Historically,  the  anti-­‐Slav  and  later  anti-­‐Serb  efforts  have  come  
from   two   sides.   First,   the   Muslim   Ottomans,   ruling   Serb   land   for   five   centuries   and   the  
Muslim   Bosniaks,   whose   allegiance   now   lies   with   the   Muslim   world.   Second,   it   is   the  
imperialist   and   exploitative   Western   states   and   institutions,   which   are   interested   in  
controlling  the  Balkans  for  geopolitical  reasons,  and  motivated  by  economic  profit.    
  The   theme   of   the   Turkish   threat   runs   through   the   entire   Serbian   national   myth,  
reminding  the  Serbs  of  their  heroic  nature  by  way  of  recalling  the  battle  of  Kosovo  in  1389,  
and  of  the  horror  of  occupation  following  the  battle,  and  connecting  that  collective  memory  
to  the  contemporary  Muslim  population  in  Bosnia.  As  Dubravka  Zarkov  skillfully  illustrates  
when   analyzing   the   fall   of   Yugoslavia   from   the   perspective   of   gender   and   media   (2007),  
gendered   media   representations   of   the   Bosnian   Muslims   depict   them   as   weak,   feminine  
men  who  are  incapable  or  unworthy  of  a  fight,  but  fit  for  gendered  violence  such  as  rape.  
The  Turkish  threat  was  recalled  during  the  wars  over  the  Bosnian  territory  during  the  90’s  
as  well  as  during  the  conflict  with  Kosovar  Albanians  over  Kosovo.    
  According  to  this  national  myth,  a  larger,  more  significant  part  of  the  threat  to  the  
Slav  Unity  comes  from  the  profit-­‐thirsty,  scheming,  and  corrupt  West.  Beginning  with  the  
Great  Power  interventions  in  the  Balkans  at  the  end  of  the  19th  century,  the  myth  depicts  
the   Western   involvement   in   the   Balkans   as   colonialist   and   imperialist   (Malgurski   2010,  
interviews).    “Europe  is  disintegrating  because  it  has  betrayed  the  authentic  man  and  the  

  36  
only   natural   form   of   power   -­‐   that   which   is   embodied   in   an   ethnically   conceived   nation,”    
Čolović   summarizes   the   narrative   (2002:   46).   The   global   West,   understood   as   culturally  
inferior,   is   then   depicted   as   obsessed   with   destroying   and   subjugating   the   Slav   people.   In   a  
Cold   War-­‐like   manner,   the   myth   depicts   institutions   such   as   the   International   Monetary  
Fund,  the  European  Union,  and  even  the  Vatican  (!)  as  plotting  against  Serbia.  On  a  number  
of  occasions  my  informants  from  the  conservative  circles  mentioned  a  document  allegedly  
signed   by   the   American   president   Ronald   Reagan.   At   the   peak   of   Yugoslav   fame,   during   the  
1984   Olympic   games   in   Sarajevo,   his   administration   supposedly   released   a   memo   detailing  
a   plan   to   “promote   a   trend   towards   a   market   oriented   Yugoslav   economy”,   as   cited   by  
Malgurski,   who,   along   with   some   of   my   conservative   informants,   frames   it   as   a   “quiet  
revolution   to   overthrow   the   communist   government.”   The   policies   of   International  
Monetary  Fund  as  well  as  US  economic  advisors  sent  to  Yugoslavia  after  the  break  up  of  the  
Soviet  Union  are  seen  as  the  primary  cause  of  the  decline  in  the  Yugoslav  economy  in  the  
90’s.    Similarly,  the  very  break-­‐up  of  Yugoslavia  is  depicted  as  a  result  of  Western  inspired  
media   propaganda   and   West-­‐inducted   economic   crisis.   Malgurski,   for   one,   speaks   of   an  
American   monetary   aid   promised   to   Slovenia   and   Croatia   in   exchange   for   secession   from  
Yugoslavia   (2010).   One   of   my   informants   even   suggested   that   the   American   National  
Endowment   for   Democracy   is   a   CIA   spin-­‐off.   While   resembling   a   conspiracy   theory,   the  
narrative   and   variations   of   the   two   motives   do   inform   the   Serbian   mainstream’s  
understanding  of  the  world.    
  This  ethnically  centered  framework  of  the  Serbian  national  myth  clearly  sets  Serbia  
apart   as   being   morally   superior   to   all   of   its   present   and   past   enemies.   As   such,   Čolović  
asserts,  it  is  directly  at  odds  with  any  prospects  of  reconciliation  or  even  normalization  of  
regional   relations   in   the   Balkans,   as   well   as   democratization   within   Serbia   proper,   because  
it  provides  justification  for  any  crimes  committed  in  the  name  of  the  nation  (2002:81-­‐82).  
Any   attempt   to   challenge   the   myth,   however,   Čolović   adds,   puts   one   in   danger   of   being  
accused   of   betraying   one’s   own   country   (2002:85).   That   is   the   very   allegation   that  
Slobodan   Milošević   directed   against   the   rebelling   civil   society   before   his   ousting   in   the  
revolution   of   2000.   Today,   members   of   civilno   družstvo   in   Serbia   are   exposed   to   similar  
accusations   by   their   own   countrymen.     The   nationalist   myth   continues   to   selectively   create  
an  image  of  the  past  and  present  in  Serbia.  Mobilization  of  national  consciousness  through  

  37  
the  two  motives  has  been  necessary  especially  in  times  of  external  and  internal  threats  to  
Serbian   power   structures,   but   as   we   will   see   in   the   following   chapter,   the   national   myth  
continues   being   imposed   through   compulsory   public   education   programs,   the  
standardization   of   historical   knowledge,   as   well   as   through   the   national   media   and   pop  
culture.    
 
 
 
 
 

  38  
 THESIS  STRUCTURE  
 
 
The  body  of  this  thesis  consists  of  five  chapters.    The  first  two  situate  the  civilno  družstvo  
within  its  larger  context,  both  in  a  factual  and  an  anthropological  sense.  The  following  three  
chapters  then  present  and  analyze  the  data  I  gathered  during  my  fieldwork.      
  Chapter  One  has  outlined  my  motivations  for  pursuing  this  research,  as  well  as  my  
methodology   and   basic   theoretical   frameworks,   which   set   the   topic   within   the   field   of  
anthropology.   Most   importantly,   the   chapter   has   framed   nationalism   as   a   fluid,   purpose-­‐
oriented   ideology.   Here   I   have   established   that   through   the   deployment   of   national  
narratives,   nationalism   assists   its   subjects   in   situating   themselves   within   their   imagined  
worlds  and  mythical  nations.    
  Chapter  Two  elaborates  specifically  on  how  Serbian  youth  engage  the  national(ist)  
narratives.   I   show   that   these   narratives   are   transformed   to     be   accessible   to   and  
understood   by   he   new   generation.   I   also   describe   how   the   youth,   in   turn,   come   to  
understand   themselves   as   part   of   the   myth.   All   together,   this   chapter   outlines   the  
predominant   setting,   a   contemporary   Serbian   zeitgeist   of   sorts,   both   within   and   against  
which  the  liberal  youth  of  the  civilno  družstvo  operate.  
  Chapter  Three  brings  a  series  of  portraits,  which  will  narrate  three  distinct  personal  
experiences  of  coming  to  alternative  consciousness  and  becoming  a  liberal  youth  activist.  
These   stories   highlight   how   the   individuals   who   have   broken   away   from   the   mainstream  
handle   the   dominant   narrative   and   attempt   to   change   it.   The   chapter   gives   contours   to  
otherwise   abstract   experience   of   ideological   transformation   among   the   liberal   youth  
activists.    
  Chapter   Four   contains   most   of   my   ethnographic   data   from   within   the   civilno  
družstvo.   I   show   that   the   youth   activists   create   alternative   narratives,   sustaining  
themselves  and  promulgating  their  ideologies  through  the  collective  practice  of  ritual  and  
actions  of  external  and  internal  resistance.  
  Finally,   Chapter   Five   outlines   the   intimate   and   emotionally   demanding   nature   of  
individual   experience   with   seeking   ideological   grounding   within   narratives   contradictory  
to  the  Serbian  national  Myth.  Focused  on  a  single  event—a  commemoration  ceremony  for  

  39  
the   1995   massacre   of   Bosniak   Muslims   in   Srebrenica—the   chapter   presents   an  
ethnographic   account   of   Serbian   activists’   experience   of   ‘crossing   to   the   other   [ideological]  
side’.  The  experience  reveals  the  large  extent  to  which  civilno  družstvo  acts  as  a  facilitator  
of   the   intimate,   personal   process   of   ideological   change,   and   sheds   light   on   the   variety   of  
individual  activists’  experiences  with  the  process.    
  The   thesis   concludes   with   a   discussion   of   the   functional   role   that   civilno   družstvo  
plays  in  facilitating  and  enabling  the  process  of  ideological  transition  among  the  involved  
youth.  I  briefly  touch  on  the  question  of  impact  that  the  civilno  družstvo  plays  in  Serbia  and  
the  region  at  large,  and  finish  by  evaluating  the  limitations  and  implications  of  my  work.  
-­‐-­‐-­‐  
 
I   would   now   like   to   invite   the   reader   to   flip   the   page   and   peek   with   me   into   the   lived  
experiences   of   young   Serbian   change-­‐agents   who   preserve   their   ideological   convictions  
and   the   energy   to   keep   pushing   for   positive   change   despite   the   hostility   of   their  
environment,  constant  critique,  and  slow-­‐return  of  visible  results.    
 

  40  
 CHAPTER  2:  
THE  MYTH  AND  THE  YOUTH:  NARRATIVE  TRANSFORMATIONS  AND  CONTINUITIES  
 
How   is   it   that   the   Serbian   national   narrative   remains   an   influential   cultural   frame   of  
reference  for  Serbian  youth  in  the  context  of  the  globalized  21st  century?  This  chapter  will  
answer   the   question   and   describe   how   Serbian   youth   are   engaging   with   the   ethno-­‐national  
narrative.  While  remaining  grounded  in  ancient  folk  motives,  the  myth  transforms,  taking  
on  curious  new  forms  to  communicate  with  the  post-­‐war  generation  and  to  assist  them  in  
navigating  the  ideological  transitions  in  Serbia  and  newly  perceived  threats  of  the  modern  
world.   The   myth   thus   assists   in   the   youth’s   identity   formation   and   explains   Serbia’s  
relations   with   outsiders   and   their   institutions,   influences,   and   powerful   symbols   such   as  
NATO,  McDonalds  or  the  European  Union.    
  First,  I  will  illustrate  the  changing  nature  of  nationalism  and  national  narratives  as    
vehicles   of   nationalism.   I   will   show   that   the   new   Serbian   generation   is   easily   susceptible   to  
the  old  national  narrative  because  it  provides  a  readily  available  ideological  framework  in  
the  aftermath  of  a  socio-­‐cultural  disintegration.  I  will  briefly  introduce  the  manner  in  which  
the   myth   is   imposed   on   and   appropriated   by   the   Serbian   youth   through   pop   culture,   media  
and   education.   Second,   I   will   explore   what   sentiments   the   youth   develop   as   a   result   of  
adopting  the  myth,  such  as  the  curious  nostalgia  for  times  they  don’t  remember,  or  to  close  
adherence  to  the  national  narrative  explaining  their  personal  sense  of  isolation  (Greenberg  
2011).   Altogether,   this   chapter   will   outline   the   predominant   setting,   a   contemporary  
Serbian   zeitgeist   of   sorts,   both   within   and   against   which   the   liberal   youth   of   the   civilno  
družstvo  operate.  
 
OLD  MOTIVES,  NEW  MOTVATIONS  
 
In  the  aftermath  of  the  post-­‐war  and  post-­‐socialist  political  transformations  that  Serbia  has  
undergone   between   1995   and   2010,   mythical   motives   and   images   from   the   old   national  
narrative   have   filled   the   sudden   ideological   vacuum   in   the   changing   socio-­‐cultural  
environment.   Even   though   the   dominant   narrative   of   today’s   Serbia   very   closely   resembles  
local   narratives   from   the   recent   war-­‐times,   the   forces   fueling   its   continued   distribution   are  
inspired  by  somewhat  different,  contemporary  impulses.  Exploring  the  modern  meaning  of  

  41  
Serbian   nationalism   will   allow   us   to   explain   why   contemporary   Serbian   youth   subscribe   to  
it  in  such  overwhelming  numbers  (Greenberg  2011,  Gordy  2013,  Čolović  2002)4.  
   The  literature  covering  the  last  two  decades  often  portrays  Serbian  nationalism  as  a  
static,   unchanging   phenomenon   of   congregated   ideological   and   social   responses   to   war-­‐
related   political   prompts.   As   Burawoy   and   Verdery   argue,   because   no   other   ideological  
frameworks   are   available   in   the   vacuum   of   political   transformation,   “people’s   responses   to  
a  situation  may  often  appear  as  holdovers  […]  employ[ing]  language  and  symbols  adapted  
from   a   previous   order”(1999).     Greenberg   (2006),   however,   correctly   points   out   that  
“nationalist   forms   [also]   draw   on   a   multitude   of   contemporary   social   categories   and  
relations,   making   nationalism   less   a   regressive   backlash,   and   more   a   malleable   social  
response  to  changing  conditions”  (321).  Contemporary  nationalism,  thus,  can  be  based  on  
old  symbols  with  novel  content,  such  as,  in  the  case  of  Serbia,  the  experience  of  transition.  
Sergei   Oushakine,   examining   socio-­‐cultural   changes   in   Siberia   during   and   following   the   fall  
of   the   Soviet   regime   in   1991,   proposes   that   a   rapid   change   in   socio-­‐political   frameworks  
(such   as   the   conclusion   of   a   war   or   regime   change,   and   significant   loss   of   territory   and  
status,   all   of   which   have   influenced   Serbia)   “becomes   generative,   wounds   originate   stories,  
identities,  and  communities.  The  feeling  of  personal  and  collective  loss  is  transformed  into  
the  main  integrative  principle  around  which  social  edifice  is  built”  (2009:207),  he  says.    The  
forms   of   nationalist   sentiment   can   thus   be   identical   to   those   used   in   the   past,   but   their  
meaning   and   ultimate   purpose   will   be   related   to   the   newly   recognized   challenges   of  
modernity.    
  In  Serbia,  the  old,  basic  dichotomy  of  the  myth  -­‐  the  struggle  of  the  Slav  spirit  against  
the  exploitative  invaders  and  imperialists  -­‐  has  been  applied  to  issues  currently  perceived  
as   the   most   threatening   to   the   socio-­‐cultural   continuity:   that   is,   to   globalization   and  
ideological  Westernization.  “Nationalist  masculinity  is  a  resource  that  people  in  Serbia,  and  
other  post-­‐socialist  contexts,  have  drawn  on  in  times  of  social  and  political  crisis  in  order  to  
architect  a  sense  of  continuity,  agency  and  belonging,”  Greenbergs  explains  the  resurgence  
                                                                                                               
4  Although  the  literature  on  contemporary  Serbian  youth  is  scarce,  the  existing  sources  do  seem  to  

confirm  its  close  adherence  to  the  nationalist  narratives.  I  am  comfortable  arguing  that  most  youth,  
while  relatively  apathetic  towards  political  matters,    do  subscribe  to  the  old  narrative  as  a  bottom-­‐
line  ideology  as  a  result  of  its  overwhelming  presence  in  the  public  space  and  socialization  
practices.    

  42  
of   adherence   to   the   mythical   Serbian   ideal   (such   as   the   growths   of   anti-­‐LGBTQIA  
movements)   as   a   means   of   navigating   the   confusing   transformation   of   categories   of  
political  and  social  belonging  in  Serbia  (2006:  321-­‐2).  In  order  to  overcome  the  sudden  loss  
of   the   Yugoslav   social   fabric   as   well   as   the   fragmentation   of   the   Milošević-­‐era   power  
networks,  the  historical  narrative  was  drawn  upon  by  the  conservative  government  as  well  
as  individuals  to  facilitate  the  recreation  of  social  relations  around  the  shared  trauma  and  
experience   of   liminality   and   despair.   The   trials   of   Serbian   war   commandants   by   the  
International  Criminal  Court  or  the  negotiations  over  the  status  of  Kosovo,  for  example,  are  
now  perceived  as  events  crucial  to  setting  the  future  direction  of  the  state  ideology.    
 
TRANSITIONAL  LIMINALITY  
 
  One   of   the   main   reasons   why   the   old   framework   of   ethno-­‐national   motives  
continues  to  be  so  popular  among  Serbian  youth  is  their  experience  of  being  suspended  in  
the  middle  of  a  transition,  in  what  Turner  calls  liminality  (Turner  1969).  “I  love  talking  to  
my   grandparents   about   Yugoslavia,”   my   informant   Anja   told   me   at   the   beginning   of   my  
summer   in   Belgrade.   “Born   in   1991,   the   feeling   of   such   a   pride   of   the   state   you   live   in   is   a  
unfamiliar  emotion  to  me.  I  hope  I  will  be  able  to  experience  it  one  day.”  Anja  continued  to  
tell  the  story  of  her  grandparents’  memories.  “During  the  Yugoslav  period,  people  felt  they  
were   united   by   ideology,   living   through   a   great   era   of   history.”   Sergei   Alex   Oushakine  
described  a  similar  experience  among  his  informants  in  newly  post-­‐socialist  Siberia.  “The  
disappearance   of   the   Soviet   country   often   implied   the   obliteration   of   individual   and  
collective   achievements,   shared   norms   of   interaction,   established   bonds   of   belonging,   or  
familiar   daily   routines.”   (2009:51)   While   the   circumstances   of   socialist   collapse   differed  
dramatically   between   Russia   and   Serbia,   both   transitions   seem   to   share   the   manner   in  
which   liminality   and     affected   the   lives   and   ideologies   of   individuals   subjected   to   the  
changes.      
   Similarly   my   own   informants   often   described   a   feeling   of     stagnation,   of   “being  
stuck”   in   time   between   the   past   marked   by   war   and   uncertain,   not-­‐yet   peaceful   present.  
When   the   all-­‐encompassing   ideological   system   of   Socialist   Yugoslavia   collapsed,   the  
elaborate   system   of   power   division   and   state   domination   disappeared   along   with   it.  
Abandoning   the   past   institutions   didn’t   automatically   produce   a   new   alternative.   Rather,  

  43  
the   experience   of   stagnation   took   over.   The   buildings   affected   by   the   NATO   bombing   of  
Belgrade   have   not   yet   been   repaired,   perhaps   as   a   consequence   of   continued   economic  
hardship,   or   perhaps   as   intentionally   placed   reminders   of   the   anti-­‐Serbian   Western  
aggression.   Whichever   explanation   is   closer   to   the   truth,   the   old   ruins,   surrounded   by    
modern   day   consumer   product   advertisements,   provide   a   powerful   visual   contrast,   a  
representation  of  precisely  such  an  ‘incompleteness’  of  transition  in  the  very  center  of  the  
capital.  With  every  decade  since  the  revolution  overthrew  Milošević  in  2000,  Serbia  returns  
to  a  government  ruled  by  former  military  commanders.  With  every  election,  recent  reforms  
get   reversed,   priorities   reorganized.   No   wonder   that   neither   the   economic   transition   to  
open  market  capitalism  nor  political  democratization  could  be  described  as  “complete”  in  
Serbia.   The   country’s   political   elites   seem   enthusiastic   about   Western   integration   during  
one   election   cycle,   and   antagonistic   during   the   next   one.   Instead   of   progress,   the   youth  
often  vocalize  the  fear  of  socio-­‐economic  decline,  the  lack  of  direction  (see  Figure  1  on  the  
next  page).  The  generation  of  youth  born  during  the  war  does  not  remember  the  glory  of  
Yugoslavia,   but   it   does   not   yet   live   in   society   which   would   offer   convincing   alternative  
ideological   frameworks   and   material   pathways   to   success.   A   liberal   informant   of   mine,  
Muta,   described   his   feeling   of   stagnation   to   me   by   making   a   parallel   with   the   state   of   the  
sidewalks:  
 
“The  revolution  happened,  and  then  we  started  seeing  little  changes  in  life.  The  
sidewalks  changed,  for  example.  They  started  using  different  pebble  stones  in  
Belgrade,  and  it  was  very  visible  to  me.  Next  to  the  market  where  I  go  the  
sidewalks  changed  completely  -­  they  were  completely  new.  It  was  maybe  five,  six,  
seven,  8  years  after  the  revolution  that  I  was  walking,  and  I  suddenly  realized  
that  I  was  disgruntled  with  what  happened  with  the  entire  democratic  movement  
in  Serbia,  because  I  saw  the  same  sidewalks.  They  were  ..  again  full  of  trash,  and  
gulp,  and  oil,  and  liquids.  Improperly  parked  cars.  The  only  thing  that  changed  
was  the  shop  windows.  They  were  new,  and  the  shop  lights  were  new,  brighter.  
That’s  all.  Everything  is  still  too  expensive,  you  still  don’t  have  enough  money  to  
just  live  a  comfortable  life.  That  was  probably  five  or  six  years  ago.  I’m  30  years  
old.  I  already  remember  a  time  period  long  enough  to  say  -­  ok,  I  know  where  this  
country  is  going.  I’m  not  trying  to  say  that  things  in  Serbia  will  not  change  in  the  
way  that  I  want  them  to.  I’m  just  saying  that  when  I  take  into  account  the  last  13  
years,  from  2000  to  2013,  It’s  going  to  be  another  13  years  to  get  just  to  the  point  
where  we  wanted  to  be,  where  we  dreamed  to  be  in  2006.”      

  44  
  
 
 
 
Figure  2  

One  of  the  pictures  widely  shared  among  my  (mostly  

conservative)  Serbian  informants  on  social  networks.  The  
picture  illustrates  prevalent  feeling  of  stagnation  or  even  
deterioration  of  Serbian  economy  and  public  order,  picturing  
a  Serbian  soldier  and  hero  on  the  right  side  of  history  during  
the  1st  World  War,  and  a  hungry  man  picking  food  from  a  
garbage  container  in  2014.      

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  For   the   generation   that   grew   up   within   this   vacuum,   the   transitional   liminality   itself  
became   a   default   source   of   cultural   frameworks.   In   seeking   order   and   frameworks   through  
which   to   interpret   their   identity,   the   youth   employ   both   the   remains   of   the   past   ideological  
structure   -­‐   the   traditional   frames   of   ethno-­‐national   myth   with   new   meanings   attached   to  
them,  as  well  as  elements  of  their  own  experience,  such  as  growing  sense  of  isolation  and  
desire  for  “normalcy”  (Greenberg  2011).  Out  of  such  combination  of  fragments  of  old  and  
new   social   fabric   grew   a   seemingly   schizophrenic   system,   combining   the   ideological  
contradiction   of   Serb   nationalism   and   rampant   Western-­‐style   consumerism,   which  
provides  an  illusion  of  prosperity  for  the  youth.  Because  of  the  prevailing  state  control  over  
sources   of   information,   unreformed   schooling,   passing   of   narratives   and   memories  
between   generations,   and   unchanged   trends   of   media   consumption,   the   nationalist   frame  
survives   as   the   dominant   reference   for   the   young   generation.   The   means   of   narrative  
dissemination,   we   shall   now   see,   have   adapted   to   suit   the   taste   of   modern   youth,   further  
gaining  advantage  over  the  globalizing  influences  present  in  the  Serbian  public  sphere.  The  
next  section  will  show  how  the  pop-­‐culture,  schooling,  and  the  media  have  contributed  to  
the  prevalence  of  a  conservative  national  narrative  among  contemporary  Serbian  youth.  

  45  
SPREADING  THE  GOSPEL  OF  NATIONALISM  
 
Tightly   arranged   one   next   to   each   other,   splavovi   are   where   the   young   go   to   have   fun.   They  
are  boats  anchored  along  both  sides  of  the  river  Sava  that  floats  through  the  city  center  of  
Belgrade.   Bars,   dance   clubs,   coffee   shops   and   more   dance   clubs   come   alive   each   Friday   and  
Saturday  night  to  feature  a  wide  variety  of  music  entertainment.  Most  often,  however,  one  
can  hear  the  breaking  voice  of  Ceca,  the  most  popular  singer  in  Serbia,  singing  “Bio  si  moja  
nevinost  i  greh,  moja  trema,  na  usnama  od  suza  krvav  trag,  kad  god  te  nema…”  (“You  were  my  
innocence   and   sin,   on   my   lips   bloody   trails   of   tears   whenever   you   aren’t   here..”),   you   can  
notice   teenage   girls   with   crosses   around   their   neck   in   skirts   well   above   their   knees,  
stumbling   around   the   river   promenade   into   the   line   that   has   formed   at   the   nearby  
McDonalds.     The   next   morning,   church-­‐bells   ring,   attracting   large   crowds   of   those   who  
danced  on  the  river  the  night  before.  
-­‐-­‐-­‐  
  Turbofolk,   a   dominant   cultural   scene   of   the   contemporary   Serbian   youth,   is   perhaps  
the  single  most  important  source  of  the  national  narrative  for  the  generation  born  during  
or  after  the  recent  war.   One  begins  to  understand  how  what  sounds  as  an  inconsequential  
youth  culture  perpetuates  a  national  narrative,  once  we  know  that  Ceca,  the  main  icon  of  
Serbian   Turbofolk   pop,   is   the   former   loving   wife   and   now   a   widow   of   Željko   Ražnatović.  
Known   as   Arkan,   Ražnatović   was   the   leader   of   Arkan’s   Tigers,   one   of   the   most   powerful  
Serbian   paramilitary   groups,   an   influential   public   figure   of   the   90’s.   Ceca,   the   most  
prominent   idol   of   the   contemporary   Serbian   pop   culture   thus   quite   literally   married   an  
icon   of   the   Serbian   war   narrative.   As   popular   imagination   became   again   interested   in  
national  traditions,  roots,  and  identities  in  the  90’s,  the  Turbofolk  scene  filled  the  niche.  The  
growth   of   Turbofolk   can   thus   be   considered   a   direct   product   of   ethno-­‐nationalism  
(Blagojevi   2012,   Gordi   2001).   Turbofolk   unified   the   newly   revived   sense   of   ethno-­‐
nationalism   in   a   format   that   was   easy   to   digest,   share,   and   engage   with.   Combining   old   folk  
melodies   with   modern   lyrics   and   pop   beat   (with   a   recognizable   Turkish   influence!),  
Turbofolk  is  Serbia’s  answer  to  the  influx  of  Western  pop  culture,  and  defense  of  tradition,  
albeit   in   modernized   format.   Fundamental   to   the   contemporary   youth   culture,   Turbofolk  
preserves   the   Serbian   tradition   and   ‘Spirit’,   and   engages   the   latest   generation   of   youth   in  
protection  of  the  national  heritage  and  worldview.      

  46  
  
 
 
Figure  3  

A  photo  posted  
on  the  “Ceca  
Ražnatović  
Serbian  Queen”  
Facebook  Page  
with  over  
50,000  followers  
commemorating  
the  marriage  of  
Arkan  and  Ceca.  

 
 
 
 
 
 
The   influence   of   pop-­‐culture,   however,   doesn’t   remain   limited   to   the   splavovi   clubs   rocking  
along  Belgrade’s  river  banks.  The  motives  and  culture  of  Turbofolk    are  strongly  linked  to  
and   supportive   of   the   conservative   political   leadership.   The   artists     are   regarded   as  
generally  respected  public  figures  and  frequently  tasked  to  share  their  opinion  on  political  
matters.  Turbofolk  concerts  are  also  known  to  carry  a  political  significance.  The  2014  New  
Year’s  concert  took  place  directly  in  front  of  the  State  Parliament,  for  example,  as  one  of  the  
very  few  events  to  get  the  capital  city’s  permission  to  use  the  space.  The  national  holiday  
Vidovdan,   commemorating   the   1389   battle   of   Kosovo,   is   annually   celebrated   with   a   big  
Turbofolk   concert   in   Belgrade.   Turbofolk   thus   offers   an   attractive   source   of   conceptual  
framing   for   an   entire   generation   which   flows   naturally   from   the   narratives   of   the   past,  
directly   repeating   their   folk   motives   in   a   new   context,   with   an   updated   and   attractive  
meaning  and  form.    
    Hand   in   hand   with   the   Turbofolk,   Serbian   school   system   imposes   a   specific  
framing   of   the   past   and   present   on   the   youth   .   Through   selective   history   education,   the  
national   narrative   establishes   a   commonly   held   reference   to   the   past.   Because   private  
schools  are  rare,  the  vast  majority  of  Serbian  school-­‐aged  children  pass  through  the  state-­‐

  47  
sponsored   education   system.   As   Toni   Bringa   points   out   in   her   ethnography   of   a   small  
Bosnian   village   during   the   90’s,   the   tradition   of   schooling   as   a   “most   powerful”   agent   of  
ideology   and   identity   formation   in   the   Balkans   dates   back   “at   least”   to   early   years   of  
Yugoslavia   (2005b:   75).   History,   taught   in   chronological   order,   moves   from   episode   to  
episode   of   the   “Serbian   National   Pantheon”,   as   Čolović   (2002:   57)   refers   to   the   list   of  
selected   historical   figures   and   heroes   that   every   kid   in   Serbia   knows   by   heart.   This  
Pantheon  then  forms  the  cornerstone  of  Serbianness,  many  of  my  informants  said.  “I’ve  been  
learning  all  about  that  since  the  kindergarten,”  Maša  said,  when  I  asked  her  about  what  it  
means  to  be  Serbian.  “First  drama  class  show,  first  songs  we  sang  with  my  friends  were  about  
St.   Sava   and   Hilandar,   and   about   other   Serbian   heroes.   You   must   learn   that,   you   cannot   be  
excluded   from   that,   you   cannot   not   know!   First   time   when   you   come   into   the   national   system,  
you  hear  this.  The  elementary  school,  high  school.  You  learn  that  through  your  all  life.”  The  
glorious   war   heroes   get   engraved   into   the   children’s   consciousness   as   representations   of  
the  past,  providing  specific  texture  to  the  contemporary  Serbian  myth.    
  The  history  lessons,  however,  rarely  continue  past  the  establishment  of  Yugoslavia  
and   its   period   of   glory.   Stefan,   a   liberally-­‐minded   high   school   history   teacher   whom   I  
interviewed  about  his  teaching  experience,  told  me  about  the  hardship  of  teaching  children  
about  the  issues  which  are  still  controversial.   “When  I  teach  at  the  high  school  it’s  always  a  
question   of   time.   Will   I   get   to   the   most   important,   “hot”   topics?   They   are   always   at   the   end   of  
each   year   and   there   are   not   enough   classes.   Our   own   education   at   the   history   faculty   ends  
with   the   end   of   Cold   War   because   the   topic   of   dissolution   of   Yugoslavia   is   hugely   debated   and  
contested  still.  I  try  to  teach  beyond  that,  but  it  is  hard.  Kids  are  not  really  informed,  they  only  
know   what   is   in   the   media   and   what   the   politicians   keep   talking   about.   They   draw   from  
there.”     He   also   mentioned   how   difficult   it   is   to   teach   children   whose   family   ideologies  
inform   their   take   on   the   past.   “Some   of   tem   are   influenced   from   home,   that   is   a   huge  
influence.   Family   history   is   not   always   compatible   with   official   history.   You   have   different  
families.  When  I  was  talking  to  one  girl  about  Kosovo  she  was  basically  repeating  the  stance  
of  her  very  conservative  father,  she  didn’t  question  it.  That  is  family  education  and  you  cannot  
influence   that.   You   cannot   force   it.   The   big   issues   are   NATO   and   EU,   those   are   huge.   The  
independence  of  Kosovo,  too.  We  talk  about  that  also.  Kids  see  it  in  the  news,  and  then  if  they  
are   interested   they   ask,   we   talk.   At   the   same   time   there   is   a   lot   of   resistance   to   what   I   have   to  

  48  
say   in   the   classroom.   In   some   cases   they   don’t   let   me   finish   because   they   have   their   own  
arguments  and  when  I  provide  counter  arguments  they  try  to  switch  the  topic.  I  try  to  provoke  
them   to   explain   why   they   believe   what   they   believe.”     Stefan’s   sense   was   that   his   teaching  
style   was   very   controversial   and   unusual,   however.   Most   children   are   not   asked   to   think  
critically   about   the   recent   past,   as   is   obvious   from   the   results   of   a   recent   study   among   high  
school  students  (see  Figure  below).    
   
 
 
 
Figure  4  
Answers  to  a  survey  
question  “out  of  the  
following  nationalities,  
______    bother  me  the  
most/are  our  biggest  
enemies”  among  1210  
Serbian  High  School  
students  in  2011.  
(Helsinki  Committee  
2011)  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Among   the   high   school   students   asked,   the   absolute   majority   chose   the   Albanians   (41.7%),  
the  Croats  (29.5%),  the  Americans  (19.4%),  and/or  the  Bosniaks  (8.0%)  as  the  people  they  
dislike,   all   nationalities   which   the   national   narrative   identifies   as   enemies   of   the   Serbian  
nation.   The   authors   of   the   study   also   remark   that   the   percentage   for   Bosniaks   (8.0%)   is  

  49  
likely  under-­‐representative  of  the  highs  school  students’  negative  sentiments  towards  this  
population  because  of  the  naming  issue:  Bosniaks  are  most  often  referred  to  as  “Muslims”  
in  the  Serbian  public  arena.  In  the  comment  area  available,  many  students  reportedly  wrote  
in  “Muslims”  and  “Turks”  as  the  groups  they  despised  most  which  were  not  offered  by  the  
questionnaire  (Helsinki  Committee  2011:  44).  While  the  study  offers  an  improvement  from  
similar  studies  done  in  the  past  (e.g.  Ilić  2000,  Milić  2009),  it  illustrates  to  what  extent  the  
youth,  influenced  by  the  Turbofolk  culture,  media,  family  narratives  and  schooling,  remain  
involved  in  the  nationalist  ideological  frameworks.  
 
“Once  in  the  preparation  period  for  Days  of  Sarajevo  we  made  a  street  campaign,  
asking  people  if  they  knew  where  Sarajevo  is,”  an  informant  from  a  liberal  youth  
NGO  complained  to  me.  “A  lot  of  them  thought  it  was  Croatia.  And  Sarajevo  is  
300  km  away  from  Belgrade,  you  need  to  know  these  things.”  She  described  her  
disbelief,  and  I  could  see  the  shock  in  her  eyes  even  as  she  was  retelling  the  
story.  “The  biggest  problem  in  Serbia  are  the  kids.  They  don’t  know  their  history.  
They  don’t  know  the  other  sides  at  all,  and  everyone  is  really  dissatisfied  with  
their  lives.  When  it  comes  to  school,  parents,  money,  life  style.  The  only  logical  
thing  is  to  adopt  this  kind  of  a  mindset,  to  start  hating,  channeling  this  
dissatisfaction.  To  see  your  enemy  in  all  these  people,  Bosnians,  Albanians…      but  
no  one  ever  goes  to  Bosnia,  to  Albania,  to  Kosovo,  or  to  Croatia’s  sea  side.”    
 
  Turbofolk’s   national   narrative   and   the   influence   of   the   school   system   are  
supplemented  by  a  third  significant  source  of  ethno-­‐national  framing:  the  conservative  grip  
on   the   media.   The   media   has   historically   played   a   significant   role   in   nation-­‐building   and  
spread  of  ethno-­‐national  tensions.  During  the  90’s,  media  blockade,  for  example,  cut  news  
of   protests   in   Belgrade   to   prevent   them   from   spreading   to   the   rest   of   the   country.   As  
Benedict  Anderson  points  out,  “..so  often  in  the  ‘nation-­‐building’  policies  of  the  new  states  
one   sees   both   a   genuine,   popular   nationalist   enthusiasm,   and   systematic,   even  
Machiavellian,   instilling   of   nationalist   ideology   through   the   mass   media,   the   educational  
system,  administrative  regulations,  and  so  forth”  (1983:  104).  In  practice,  both  the  genuine,  
and   the   imposed   are   intertwined   and   indistinguishable.   Maša,   a   young   employee   of   the  
Youth  Initiative  for  Human  Rights,  shared  an  anecdote  with  me  which  illustrates  well  how  
the  media  continue  to  perpetuate  the  national  narrative  of  Serbian  victimhood.    
 

  50  
 “A  couple  years  back  we  went  to  Tuzla  [a  city  in  Eastern  Bosnia  and  
Herzegovina]  with  some  younger  volunteers  for  a  commemoration  ceremony  of  
the  1995  massacre  committed  there  by  the  Bosnian  Serb  army.  We  just  entered  
Republika  Srpska  [the  Serb  territory  in  B&H]  and  turned  on  the  radio.  The  news  
were  on,  and  after  they  mentioned  the  commemoration  ceremony  in  Tuzla  in  one  
sentence,  they  went  on  for  five  minutes  abut  Serbian  victims  of  the  war.  This  is  
the  best  example  I  have  of  media  trying  to  influence  the  way  you  think  about  
history.”  
 
  Reflecting   the   most   prominent   political   consensus   on   controversial   issues,   the  
mainstream   media   continue   to   spread   the   conservative   line.   According   to   Reporters  
Without   Borders,   Serbia   ranked   63rd   out   of   179   countries   examined   for   media   freedom  
world-­‐wide  in  2013  (Reporters  2014).  However,  the  media  operate  in  a  highly  politicized  
environment,   and   journalists   continue   to   face   physical   and   verbal   attacks,   as   well   as  
political  coercion  related  to  pre-­‐electoral  reporting  (Freedom  House  2013:  326).  Freedom  
House   also   reports   a   significant   decrease   in   investigative   journalism   and   increase   in   self-­‐
censorship   (2014).   With   Serbia’s   most   read   dailies   costing   less   than   a   few   cents,   one  
wonders,   who   is   buying   what:   are   the   people   buying   the   news   or   are   the   media   agencies  
buying   people’s   attention   in   exchange   for   providing   an   illusion   of   being   informed?   It’s   a  
well  known  fact  among  my  informants  from  both  sides  of  the  political  spectrum  that  high-­‐
level  politicians  grant  interviews  to  only  a  selected  few  journalists  from  specific  ideological  
backgrounds.   A   media   survey   conducted   by   the   Serbian   Bureau   for   Social   Research  
concluded   that   political   campaigns   on   radio   and   television   lack   critical   analysis,   focus  
disproportionately   on   different   candidates,   and   in   2012   in   many   cases   amounted   to  
political  advertising  for  the  leading  Progressive  party  of  Serbia  (BIRODI  2014).  Ownership  
of  both  print  and  broadcast  media  remains  problematic,  as  both  private  and  governmental  
ownership   often   exceeds   50%   per   media   outlet   (Freedom   House   2013).   Because   of   the  
economic  crisis,  independent  media  are  struggling  to  compete  with  well-­‐funded  state  and  
pro-­‐governmental   media.   Due   to   a   negligible   Internet   penetration,   the   public   broadcast  
services  hold  an  enormous  monopoly  on  information.  While  the  youth  are  more  likely  than  
other   social   groups   to   have   access   to   the   internet   (as   did   all   of   my   informants),   their   views  
are   largely   shaped   by   those   of   their   parents   and   older   family   members   who   have   little  

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access   to   alternative   news   sources.   Access   to   internet,   in   my   own   observation,   did   not  
correlate  positively  with  knowledge  of  and  interest  in  alternative  information.      
 
NEW  CHAPTERS  OF  THE  MYTH  NARRATED  BY  THE  YOUTH  
 
The  new  generation  might  accept  the  national  narrative  in  forms  similar  to  those  of  their  
parents  and  grandparents,  but  the  manner  in  which  they  engage  and  transform  the  ethno-­‐
national   framework   is   unique   and   new.   The   youth   face   their   sense   of   liminality   and  
material  insecurity  with  the  illusion  of  prosperity  and  rampant  Western-­‐style  consumerism  
that  quite  clearly  contradicts  the  beliefs  of  the  previous  generations.  On  the  other  hand,  the  
youth  indulge  in  their  grandparent’s  stories  of  ‘better  times’,  times  of  Yugoslav  prosperity  
and   prominence,   and   exhibit   a   collective   yearning   for   the   past   they   never   experienced.  
Similarly,   the   youth   further   the   national   narrative   by   subscribing   to   what   many   have  
labeled  conspiracy  theories  en  mass.  The  youth  respond  to  the  transitional  state  they  find  
themselves   trapped   in   by   expanding   the   meaning   behind   the   national   narrative   handed  
down  to  them.    
  First,   Serbian   youth,   listening   to   the   narrative,   developed   a   sentiment   of   nostalgia,  
yearning  for  times  of  greatest  national  glory,  when  (and  because)  South  Slav  nations  were  
united  in  common  prosperity.  Since  none  of  these  young  people  have  a  personal  memory  of  
the   time,   however,   their   collective   Yugonostalgia   is   a   curious   phenomenon   of  
intergenerational   memory   and   narrative   transition.   Nationalist   sentiments   anywhere   are  
inherently   connected   to   celebrating   the   times   of   a   nation’s   glory,   which   are   long   gone.   In  
the   Balkans,   however,   yearning   for   and   engaging   with   the   glorious   past   constitutes   and  
defines  the  very  basis  of  the  glue  that  ties  a  nation  together,  because  the  Yugoslav  past  is  
the  only  place  where  the  hopes  of  the  Serb  national  narrative  were  fulfilled.    
  A   number   of   authors   specifically   engage   nostalgia   within   the   post-­‐traumatic  
transformation  in  Eastern  Europe.    Nostalgia,  the  longing  for  a  home  that  no  longer  exists,  
or  has  never  existed,  “a  sentiment  of  loss  and  displacement,  but  also  a  romance  with  one’s  
own  fantasy”  (Boym  2001,  xv),  plays  a  significant  role  in  shaping  the  manner  in  which  the  
past   is   remembered,   interpreted   and   recalled   for   today’s   purposes.     At   the   same,   time,  
Oushakine  notes  that  nostalgia  provides  a  refuge,  a  sense  of  stability  and  coherence  in  the  
world   shaken   by   trauma   (2009).   As   I   established   earlier,   any   great   socio-­‐political  

  52  
transformation  inevitably  results  in  a  temporary  absence  of  social  fabric.  Storytelling  and  
shared  emotion  then  replace  the  fragments  of  the  previous  order,  and  generate  the  basis  of  
a   new   social   edifice   in   the   unpredictable   times   of   confusing   socio-­‐economic   change  
(Oushakine   2009:207).   Focusing   on   the   modern   upheavals   in   Eastern   Europe,   Boym  
identifies   nostalgia   as   a   defender   of   tradition   (2001).   Personal   as   well   as   collective  
histories,   ultimately   nostalgic   affairs,   then   become   a   collection   of   private   or   collective  
mythology,  narratives  of  “phantom  homelands,”  for  the  sake  of  which  one  might  be  ready  
to  die  or  kill  (xvi),  as  the  Balkan  wars,  among  other  conflicts,  have  shown.    
  Yugonostalgia,   a   term   well   established   among   scholars   of   the   Balkans   as   well   as  
among   local   people,   is   universal   to   all   post-­‐Yugoslav   nations,   and   in   Serbia   also,  
interestingly,  to  all  generations.  I  do  not  dare  to  make  conclusions  on  the  relative  strength  
of   nostalgia   in   Serbia   as   compared   to   other   post-­‐Yugoslav   countries.     The   nostalgic  
sentiment  in  Serbia,  however,  connects  strongly  to  the  national  narrative’s  notion  of  Serbs  
as   historical   unifiers   of   South   Slavs.   Because   Belgrade   has   historically   served   as   the  
administrative  center  of  both  the  kingdom  of  Serbs  and  Croats,  and  of  Yugoslavia,    it  could  
be   said   that   the   break   up   of   the   Yugoslav   Federation   was   more   tangible   in   Serbia   than  
elsewhere.   Rather   than   ‘gaining   independence’   as   the   countries   which   seceded   from   the  
Union  during  the  90’s  (perhaps  with  the  exception  of  Bosnia  and  Herzegovina),    in  Serbia  
the  post-­‐Yugoslav  state  ‘felt’  incomplete,  with  perceived  loss  of  territory.  While  Yugoslavia  
was   formally   dissolved   by   the   last   two   remaining   countries   (Serbia   and   Montenegro)   in  
1992,   the   successor   state,   Serbia   and   Montenegro,     allowed   for   historical   continuity   and  
romanticization  of  the  Yugoslav  idea.      
  Nostalgia   in   the   form   of   longing   for   the   times   of   one’s   youth   and   national   prosperity  
directly   experienced   by   those   old   enough   to   remember   Yugoslavia,   has   been   selectively  
transmitted   to   the   young   generation   through   practices   of   collective   remembering.   Greta  
Uehling,   one   of   the   few   anthropologists   to   examine   intergenerational   transmission   of  
memory,   asserts   that   we   cannot   separate   memories   of   the   past   from   ongoing   events  
(2004).   Combining   neurobiological   research   on   the   nature   of   human   remembering   with  
ethnography  of  Crimean  Tatars  deported  to  Central  Asia,  she  shows  that  the  way  in  which  
Tatars   remember   reflects   not   only   on   the   past   but   also   on   the   sentiments   of   the   present.  
The   segments   of   present   reality   which   most   contrast   with   the   older   generation’s  

  53  
idealization  of  their  childhoods  (economic  and  political  stability)  are  thus  most  likely  to  get  
transmitted  to  the  next  generation’s  imagination  of  the  past.    
  Those   among   my   youth   informants   who   diagnosed   themselves   as   Yugonostalgic,  
largely   regretted   the   fall   of   Yugoslavia   because   of   the   different   kinds   of   guarantees   they  
believe   the   state   provided   to   its   citizens:   economic   wellbeing,   respectable   leadership,   all  
within   the   idealized   union   of   all   South   Slavs.   During   my   very   first   interview   in   Belgrade,  
Luka   (19),   a   young   law   student   said   he   feels   sorry   Yugoslavia   is   no   longer   a   reality,  
particularly   because   of   the   economic   securities   that   people   the   federation   enjoyed   at   the  
time.   “Everyone   was   living   such   a   good   life,”   one   of   his   friends   later   added   over   a   coffee  
meeting.   “Everyone   had   a   job,   an   apartment,   it   was   a   really   nice   living   for   most   people.   It’s  
really  true  that  in  Yugoslavia  people  had  a  good  life.”  In  the  minds  of  politically  conservative  
or   apathetic   Serbian   youth   that   I   interviewed,   economic   security,   today   as   well   as   in   the  
past,   seem   to   take   precedence   over   individual   freedoms.   “Yugoslavia   is   the   most  
misunderstood  period  of  our  history,”  told  me  Stefan,  the  liberal  history  teacher,  pointing  out  
that   despite   economic   comfort   of   the   majority,   Yugoslavia   was   a   dictatorship.   “People   are  
hungry,  people  don’t  have  bread,”  said  Ana,  an  apolitical  Serbian  university  student  whom  I  
connected   with   through   a   common   friend,   however.   “As   it   was   during   Yugoslavia,   people  
should  set  their  priorities  straight  -­  food  first,  then  LGBTQA  concerns.  That’s  why  I  don’t  like  
the  Pride  parade  and  all  the  NGO  organizing,”  she  expressed  her  concerns.  “Our  time  needs  
new  leaders,  new  decision-­makers  who  will  set  the  priorities  straight  and  direct  Serbia  back  
to   progress,”   she   added   at   the   end   of   our   interview,   echoing   the   sentiment   I   found   common  
among  my  young  informants  as  well  as  the  older  generation.  The  transition  has  been  taking  
too   long,   and   the   lack   of   direction   brings   insecurity.   Yugonostalgia   is   popular   among   the  
youth   since   they   see   their   parents’   memories   of   economic   stability   and   Tito’s   leadership   in  
contrast   to   their   own   unstable   realities,   and   the   all-­‐South   Slav   Union,   idealized   by   the  
national  narrative,  as  opposite  to  the  current  fragmentation  of  the  Balkans.  Paradoxically,  
however,  as  Oushakine  points  out,  nostalgia  is  a  dangerous  sentiment,  because  instead  of  
focusing  energy  and  imagination  towards  creation  of  a  better  future,  one  spends  it  on  the  
creation   of   imaginary   home   in   memory   (2009).   The   prevalence   of   nostalgia   among   the  
youth   would   thus   seem   counterproductive   to   their   desire   for   improvement   and  
stabilization  of  their  transitional  realities.    

  54  
   The  indulgence  in  comparing  the  glory  of  Yugoslavia  with  the  perceived  stagnation  
of   the   contemporary   reality   among   the   youth   go   hand   in   hand   with   rising   consumerism,  
fuelled  by  their  “desire  for  normalcy,”  as  Jessica  Greenberg  defined  it  (2011).  The  parallel  
occurrence  of  both  anti-­‐Western  narrative  and  Western-­‐style  behavior  makes  sense  if  we  
consider   the   transitioning   state   (and   one   might   even   say   chaos)   of   Serbian   socio-­‐cultural  
frameworks.    Arriving  in  Belgrade  for  the  first  time,  I  wondered  how  a  country  troubled  by  
poverty   and   unemployment   of   over   20%   (Heritage   2014),   and   much   higher   among   the  
youth,   could   support   the   hedonist   lifestyles   of   the   new   generation.   Cafes   and   restaurants  
seemed   always   to   be   packed   with   sharply   dressed   young   people   with   latest   cell   phone  
models  in  their  pockets.  Only  after  hearing  over  and  over  again  about  financial  troubles  and  
worries   of   my   informants   have   I   realized   the   abundance   is   nothing   more   than   a   carefully  
crafted   image,   designed   to   provide   comfort   and   dignity   in   times   of   both   economic   and  
identity  crisis  that  Serbia  is  undergoing.    Debt,  Greenberg  reports,  is  becoming  increasingly  
widespread  (2011:94).    
  The   changes   in   state   power   as   well   as   the   changing   geopolitical   role   that   Serbia  
plays   in   Europe   affect   the   intimate   narratives   and   experiences   of   the   generation   born  
during  and  after  the  war  of  the  90’s.  Their  feelings  of  exclusion  from  ‘normalcy’  originate  
both   from   the   domestic   political   chaos   and   from   the   reluctance   of   the   West   to   consider  
Serbian   citizens   worthy   of   visa-­‐free   travel   regime,   something   that   the   Serbs   lost   with   the  
break-­‐up   of   Yugoslavia.   When   the   visa-­‐free   regime   was   restored   in   2009,   Greenberg  
reports,   Serbian   media   framed   the   event   as   a   “restitution   of   normal   political   and   cultural  
status  that  Serbia  once  had  but  lost”  (2011:88).  The  strong  desire  to  make  use  of  access  to  
Western  standards  and  goods  can  thus  be  explained  as  a  restoration  of  identity  and  status  
of   the   young   Serbs,   who   struggle   to   define   themselves   in   a   society   that   has   not   yet  
completed  its  transition  to  democracy  and  free  market  capitalism.  The  illusion  of  material  
luxury,   like   the   previously   described   influences   of   pop-­‐culture,   media   and   education  
systems,  frames  the  young  generation’s  role  in  the  unstable  contemporary  world,  creating  
an  illusion  of  relative  normalcy  that  shields  the  youth  from  the  chaotic  reality.    
—-­‐  
  Indulged  in  the  unproductive  consumerist  illusions  of  modernity  and  nostalgia,  the  
majority  of  contemporary  Serbian  youth  isn’t  very  active  in  promoting   real  change  in  their  

  55  
society.   The   few   who   are   engaged   often   find   themselves   on   the   extremes   of   the   political  
spectrum.   On   one   hand,   those   who   subscribe   to   the   national   narrative   perhaps   more  
intensely   than   the   majority,   develop   right-­‐wing   organizations   set   on   improving   Serbia’s  
status  through  attempts  at  recreating  the  mythical  masculine  Serbian  nation  and  culture  as  
well   as     strong   sense   of   national   pride   in   the   otherwise   apathetic   society.     On   the   other  
hand,  there  is  a  smaller  group  of  those  who  believe  that  Serbia’s  road  to  prosperity  leads  
through   the   adoption   of   liberal   ideology,   human   rights,   critical   revision   of   the   national  
narrative,   and   democratization.   While   a   study   of   the   nationalist   right   youth   activism   would  
be  extremely  interesting,  my  ethnography  is  focused  precisely  on  the  lives  and  experience  
of   the   second   category:   the   liberal   youth   activists.   The   next   chapter   brings   a   series   of  
personal  portraits,  which  will  illuminate  how  one  becomes  a  liberal  activist  in  the  collective  
of  yugonostalgic,  consumerist  peers  who  dance  at  splavovi  every  Friday  night.    
 
 

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 CHAPTER  3:  
THREE  STORIES:  PORTRAITS  OF  YOUTH  ACTIVISTS  
 
 
 
 
 
 
Biography,   described   by   L.L.   Langness   as   “   two   voices   in   harmony”,   comprises   two  
intertwined   narrative   interpretations   of   the   subject’s   life   experiences   (1981:   96).   The  
writer   and   the   subject,   quite   understandably,   differ   in   perspectives   and   interpretations,  
and  biography  thus  must  be  understood  as  a  result  of  an  imperfect  attempt  to  selectively  
give  shape  to  and  transfer  meaning  from  memory  and  emotion  to  the  written  form.  As  such,  
life   histories   and   biographies   fit   a   dilemma   central   to   the   discipline   of   anthropology—-­‐that  
is,  how  to  facilitate  transition  of  knowledge  from  the  cultural  framework  of  the  subject  to  
the  cultural  framework  of  the  ethnographer  (and  vice  versa!)?  Nevertheless,    life  histories  
have   over   the   time   formed   a   backbone   of   ethnographic   field   practice.   Recording   life  
histories  has  a  long  history  in  anthropology,  and  some  of  the  most  famous  anthropologists  
have   engaged   in   such   work.   Ruth   Behar’s   ethnographies   are   just   one   example   of   many   (e.g.  
1993).    
  Looking  closer,  we  can  conclude  that  biography  produces  a  mode  of  representation  
different  from,  yet  overlapping  with  more  traditional  ethnographic  analysis.  Both  methods  
are   concerned   with   conveying   lived   experience   through   writing,   narration   and  
representation.    However,  biography  lends  itself  naturally  to  the  focus  on  change  over  time  
and   on   the   trajectories   of   the   subject’s   experience   that   intersect   multiple   shifting  
influences.  These  might  otherwise  remain  insufficiently  clear  if  the  focus  centers  on  a  single  
point   in   time   and   space   (as   conventional   ethnography   tends   to   do).   Michael   Herzfeld  
argued  that  ‘ethnographic  biography’  allows  us  to  observe  the  development  and  interaction  
of  our  subject  -­‐  a  social  actor  -­‐    within  a  multitude  of  social  entities  and  settings  (1997:2).  
Of   course,     a   single   informant’s   experience   cannot   replace   the   description   of   an   entire   local  
group  of  focus.  The  juxtaposition  of  the  two  genres,  however,  opens  up  a  space  for  mutual  

  57  
enrichment,  lowering  the  distance  between  individual  lived  experience  and  the  somewhat    
static  social  analysis.    
  In   this   ethnography   I   will,   too,   be   using   three   short   biographical   portraits     to  
compliment  the  remaining  analytical  and  contextual  chapters.      Particularly  in  a  context  as  
complex   and   as   shaded   by   multiple   layers   of   irreconcilable   perceptions   as   the   modern  
Balkans,   I   would   like   to   offer   the   reader   a   space   for   rest   and   relief   of   imagination.   My  
informants’   life   stories   should   add   tangible   contours   to   the   reality   of   Serbian   activist  
experience.   Not   only   are   the   lives   of   my   informants   representative   of   the   larger   liberal  
activist   circles   in   Belgrade,   but   it   is   them   who   actively   form   and   shape   their   collectives  
through   their   actions.   Their   values,   beliefs,   experiences   and   hopes   reflect   the   ideology   of  
their  activist  peers,  actively  shaping  the  civilno  družstvo  in  Serbia.  Chapters  two  and  three  
offered   a   glimpse   into   the   day-­‐to-­‐day   lives   and   meanings   of   the   majority,   focusing   on  
Serbian  nationalism  past  and  present,  and  the  subsequent  snapshots  begin  a  transition  to  
the  ethnography  of  the  liberal  activist  population  of  Belgrade.    
  Maša,  Anita  and  Ruža  are  three  young  women  involved  in  similar  activist  circles,  yet  
their  stories  are  nothing  alike.  While  I  want  to  avoid  the  construction  of  ‘activist  typology’  
and   present   complex,   multidimensional,   and   realistic   characters,   each   of   the   following  
narratives  represents  a  fate  common  among  the  liberally  minded  and  civically  active  youth  
of   Belgrade.   The   representativeness   of   the   sample   shall   remain   only   approximate,   of  
course,   as   the   goal   of     these   portraits   is   to   go   deeper   in   perspective   rather   than   broader.    
The  following  three  narratives  portray  the  lives  of  agents  formative  to  the  civilno  družstvo  
that  I  am  studying.    
  Maša’s   story   illustrates   the   manner   in   which   dissent   is   passed   from   generation   to  
generation   as   a   most   prized   family   treasure.   It   is   not   surprising   that   she   has   gotten  
accustomed   to   the   rush   and   thrill   of   protest   during   her   childhood,   spent   in   the   stormy  
Belgrade  of  the  90’s.  Maša’s  mother  made  sure  that  Maša  understands  a  basic  paradigm  of  
hope:  we  can  make  it  better,  as  she  was  herself  rooting  for  Otpor,  a  student  group  leading  
the   demonstrations.   Speaking   of   those   experiences   as   the   source   of   her   hope   and  
motivation   to   keep   pushing   for   a   “better   Serbia”,   Maša’s   words   resonate   with   so   many  
others  whose  childhoods  resembled  hers.    

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   The   Story   of   Ruža   speaks   of   a   unique   life   experience   as   inspiration   for   alternative  
worldview.  Refugee  from  Bihać,  Bosnia,  Ruža  experienced  the  hostility  of  wartime  Serbia,  
where  additional  hungry  stomachs,  Serbian  or  not,  were  seen  as  parasitic.  Today,  Serbian  
nationalist   narrative   upholds   the   suffering   of   Serbian   refugees   from   Bosnia,   Croatia   and  
Kosovo,  as  a  national  tragedy.  Witnessing  the  change  of  rhetoric,  the  discrepancy  between  
earlier   practice   and   later   political   speeches,   Ruža   let   herself   follow   what   she   calls   “a   simple  
sense   of   right   and   wrong.”   Remembering   the     anti-­‐Milošević   protests   of   the   90’s,   Ruža  
continues  to  struggle  with  the  slow  pace  of  change  in  contemporary  Serbia.      
  Anita’s   profile   points   to   a   life   crosscutting   multiple   cleavages   -­‐   the   mainstream  
culture   and   the   alternative   crowd,   and   the   non-­‐profit   and   government   circles.   Anita,   who  
grew   up   as   a   mainstream   participant   in   the   turbofolk   pop   culture   of   Serbia’s   youth,   has  
made  the  transition  from  apathy  to  care  and  human  rights  work.  Her  story  also  tracks  her  
path  towards  professional  political  career,  which  is  often  understood  as  irreconcilable  with  
the  non-­‐profit  sector.  Ambitious  to  introduce  segments  of  her  human  rights  ideology  into  
serious   Serbian   politics   while   maintaining   her   femininity   within   the   mascular   world   of  
Serbian  politics,  Anita  is  determined  to  prove  she  can  cross  every  boundary  she  finds.    
  The   particular   choice   of   stories   also,   quite   naturally,   reflects   the   strength   of  
relationships   and   depth   of   interviews   that   I   was   able   to   develop   over   the   duration   of   my  
fieldwork.   Like   any   ethnographer,   I   cannot   strive   for   comprehensiveness   and   perfect  
representation   of   an   entire   population,   but   rather,   precise   and   detailed   representation   of  
experiences   and   materials   that   most   reflect   my   particular   presence   in   the   field.   Regardless,  
the  particular  offices  of  Belgrade’s  human  rights  NGOs  that  I  had  a  chance  to  engage  with  
are  filled  with  individuals  whose  stories  closely  align  with  Maša’s,  Ruža’s,  and  Anita’s.    
—-­‐  
 

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1.  MAŠA:  BORN  A  REVOLUTIONARY  
 
“I  think  all  of  us  born  in  that  period  are  somehow  marked.”  
 
I   meet   Maša,   a   twenty-­‐two   year   old   Serbian   woman,   at   the   office   of   one   of   Belgrade’s  
human  rights  non  profits.  For  the  two  months  that  I  spend  as  a  guest  there,  the  fourth  floor  
apartment   stays   buzzing   with   rushed   conversation,   laughter   and   cigarette   smoke   coming  
inside  through  the  opened  balcony  window.  On  the  streets  below,  women  slap  their  heels  
on  the  burning  sidewalks  and  men  in  dark  colors  carry  bags  with  checkered  patterns  from  
the  nearby  market.  The  sharp  smell  of  watermelons  and  raspberries  fermenting  in  the  heat  
penetrates   the   air.   A   bearded   accordion   musician   on   the   corner   repeats   the   Beer   Barrel  
Polka   over   and   over   again.     Maša,   a   cheerful   blonde   with   an   attention-­‐grabbing   haircut  
wears  bright  pink  today.    Mixing  sugar  into  a  cup  of  cold  coffee,  she  checks  her  Smartphone,  
pushes  thick  glasses  up  her  nose,  and  asks  me,  “What  do  you  want  to  know?”  And  so  I  ask,  
and   I   listen   to   a   story   about   how   Maša   became   who   she   is   -­‐   a   liberal   activist   in   largely  
conservative  Serbia.    
—-­‐  
 
When   speaking   about   the   nineties,   Maša’s   mother   Tamara   says   that   those   were   the   coldest  
winters   she   can   remember.     She   was   baking   pastries   for   students   protesting   the   regime  
under  her  apartment  windows,  just  as  her  first  daughter  was  learning  to  walk.  As  soon  as  
she  learned,  nothing  could  keep  Maša  away  from  the  protesting  streets.  “I  practically  grew  
up  protesting,  and  not  just  because  my  mother  would  take  me.  Somehow,  I  felt  that  I  should  be  
there,”     she   comments   when   telling   me   about   her   childhood.   Tamara   watched   direct  
broadcast  from  the  parliament  and  cursed,  breastfeeding  Maša’s  younger  sister,  wanting  to  
go   out.   And   Maša   remembers   that   anger,   too.   —“my   entire   family   was   out   there,   everyone  
who   didn’t   just   have   a   baby   born   went.”   She   recalls   sitting   in   the   window,   overlooking   a  
bizarre  scene  below:  military  tanks  were  crossing  the  cobble  stone  street  under.  —“Once  I  
got   a   friendship   bracelet,   that   kind   where   you   make   a   wish   while   tying   it   on,   and   I   wished  
Miloševic  was  dead,”  she  remembers.  I  start  understanding  more  when  I  hear  her  recount  
the  list  of  her  toys  which  were  lost  at  the  protests.  A  picture  captures  Maša  making  faces  at  
a   policeman.   “It’s   that   kind   of   an   influence   which   you   cannot   run   away   from,”   she   concludes,  
and  thinks  back  to  all  of  those  born  in  the  90’s.  “I  think  all  of  us  whose  parents  were  active  

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back  then,  in  Belgrade,  were  affected.”  But  outside  of  Belgrade,  and  on  the  news,  the  protests  
looked   small.   “I   remember   banging   cutlery   on   pots   at   the   time   of   public   news   broadcast,”  
Maša  remembers  understanding  that  TV  reports  and  reality  were  two  very  different  things.  
I  am  now  completely  sure  -­‐  this  girl  was  born  a  revolutionary.    
 —-­‐  
 
MEDIA  GRIP  ON  REALITY  
“Why  didn’t  you  tell  me,  mom?”,  Maša  got  angry  with  Tamara  in  2008.  That  day,  after  coming  
home   from   high   school,   she   learned   from   an   NGO   leaflet   about   the   Siege   of   Sarajevo,   the  
longest  military  blockade  in  modern  European  history.  For  five  years  Serbian  army  forces  
would   hold   the   Bosnian   city   of   Sarajevo   captive.   Just   two   hundred   kilometers   away   from  
her,   in   the   safety   of   Belgrade,   war   horrors   took   the   lives   of   thousands.  “Why   didn’t   you   ever  
mention  it?,”    she  pressed  Tamara,  who,  surprised,  inquired  back  -­‐  “What  is  it  that  you  are  so  
angry   about?   Siege   of   what?”     She   did   not   know.   Maša   remembers   one   more   story   that  
illustrates   the   isolating   power   of   the   Serbian   media   apparatus.   “When   I   was   in   6th   grade,  
watching   a   movie   I   asked   my   mum   whether   the   film   was   made   from   footage   of   Second   World  
War  in  Bosnia,  or  whether  it  was  fiction.  It  turned  out  to  be  real,  new,  modern  footage  from  
just   across   the   hill.”   That   time,   Tamara   was   able   to   tell   her   daughter   about   the   war  
happening  next  door.  The  school  didn’t.  “You  can  just  imagine  how  many  people  in  Serbia  we  
have  who  have  no  clue  about  any  of  this.  Who  never  had  any  clue,”  Maša  adds.    
—-­‐  
 
THE  APATHETIC  MAJORITY  
Even  those  on  the  streets  throughout  the  second  half  of  1990’s  in  Belgrade,  Maša  warns  me,  
didn’t  necessarily  protest  or  know  much  about  the  war.  “It’s  not  that  we  cared  for  society  so  
much  that  we  went  out  into  the  cold.  It  was  that  we  cared  about  ourselves,  because  in  the  90’s  
we   were   on   the   bottom,   we   had   nothing   to   lose.”   As   opposed   to   1999,   when   those   protesting  
shared   a   clear   goal   of   removing   a   dictator   from   power   and   sanctions   from   the   economy,  
Maša   feels   that   many   are   lost   and   hopeless   now.   “The   biggest   problem   is   that   there   is   no  
more   hope.”   There   is   no   longer   a   single   fight   to   win,   no   single   light   at   the   end   of   the   tunnel,  
and  even  those  like  Tamara,  who  in  the  90’s  rushed  the  streets,  are  broken  by  the  passive  
stagnation   of   today’s   Serbia,   she   sighs.   And   so   Tamara   dissuades   Maša   from   staying.   “Many  

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people  are  too  tired,  they  are  leaving.  I  felt  similarly  for  a  couple  years,  but  then  I  realized  -­  
what  will  become  of  Serbia  if  everyone  leaves?”    
—-­‐  
 
THE  PARADOX  OF  LIBERAL  PATRIOTISM  
Paradoxically,  as  Maša  attempts  to  keep  working  for  her  vision  of  a  better  Serbia  within  the  
liberal  non-­‐profit  scene,  she  faces  criticism.  The  public  assumes  that  criticizing  Serbia’s  war  
conduct,  she  must  be  unpatriotic.    “Why  don’t  you  just  leave,  you  hate  your  country,  you  work  
for  America,  they  say.  They  say  that  we  don’t  love  our  country,  like  we  are  some  traitors.”  Her  
relationship  to  the  nation  is  complicated,  however.  “I  know  so  little  of  our  history,  and  what  I  
know  the  best  is  the  fall  of  Yugoslavia,  and  that  I  absolutely  cannot  be  proud  of.”  Maša  laughs  
that   most   of   the   history   she   knows   she   learned   outside   of   school.   What   she   knows   about  
the  90’s  she  learned  through  activism  and  non-­‐profit  work.  “We  have  a  very  rich,  old  history,  
but   we   know   almost   nothing   about   it.   We   don’t   learn   about   the   things   which   we   should   be  
proud  of.  We  are  proud  of  things  we  should  be  ashamed  for  and  we  forget  the  things  that  we  
should   remember.”   This   summer,   for   the   first   time,   she   smiles,   Maša   felt   proud   of   being  
Serbian  in  a  historical  context.    “My  boyfriend  and  I  went  to  the  Greek  island  of  Corfu  to  see  
the  Blue  Sea  Tomb.”  The  Blue  Sea  Tomb,  Plava  Grobnica,  is  a  bay  where  hundreds  of  Serbian  
soldiers  are  buried  after  an  exhausting  military  retreat  of  the  allied  forces  of  the  Entente  in  
1916,   defeated   by   Mussolini’s   forces.   “That   was   maybe   the   first   time   in   my   life   when   I   felt  
proud  of  Serbia  for  war  reasons.  I  was  so  proud  and  that  almost  made  me  feel  bad  but  then  I  
saw  our  flag  and  I  felt  proud.”  
—-­‐  
 
JOINING  AN  ORGANIZATION  
Shortly   after   finding   out   about   the   siege   of   Sarajevo,   Maša   found   out   about   Čedomir  
Jovanović,   a   handsome   leader   of   the   small,   young   liberal   party   in   Serbia,   who   became  
known  to  the  public  as  a  leader  of  the  student  protests  in  1999.  “He’s  so  cute,”  Maša  adds,  
laughing.   “I   wasn’t   even   technically   allowed   to   join   the   party   yet,   but   I   did.   I   was   only  
seventeen,   and   I   knew   little   about   politics.   But   I   knew   that   I   liked   him.”   With   Tamara’s  
support,  Maša  explored  the  issues  at  the  heart  of  the  party’s  agenda:  then  a  controversial  
pro-­‐European   stance   with   emphasis   on   democratization   and   transformation   of   Serbian  

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political   culture.   Maša   found   herself     surrounded   by   those   among   whom   she   would   grow  
into   the   activist   she   is   today.   Most   of   all,   she   treasures   the   thrill   of   action,   the   adrenaline   of  
making   political   graffiti,   and   the   respect   for   difference   in   opinion.   “The   favourite   part   of   my  
identity  is  Youth  Initiative  now,”  she  says.    
—-­‐  
 
THE  DESIRE  FOR  MEANING  
“When   I   came   to   Youth   Initiative   in   2008,   I   volunteered   for   a   couple   years.   But   when   time  
came  to  get  a  job,  I  wanted  to  work  for  money,  not  for  ideals.  I  wanted  to  work  from  eight  to  
four,  come  home  and  forget  about  it.”  Maša  thought  she  couldn’t  keep  arguing  and  fighting  
the  battle  forever.  Leaving  Youth  Initiative  to  try  something  different,  Maša  came  running  
back  last  fall.  “I  realized  that  the  added  value  only  comes  if  you  believe  strongly  in  something,  
and   I   couldn’t   keep   dying,   reading   emails   I   didn’t   find   interesting”   she   concludes,   happy  
about     having   tried   it.   Finishing   her   cup   of   coffee,   Maša   looks   at   the   watch.   We’ve   been  
talking   for   two   hours,   and   the   sky   outside   has   become   dark.   “But   you   see,   now   I   know   that   I  
need   to   see   some   meaning.   I   will   stay   until   ten   tonight,   and   then   maybe   again   tomorrow,   and  
that  will  be  alright.  I  will  come  back  at  five  in  the  morning,  if  necessary.”    Now  she  knows  that  
separating   life   and   work   isn’t   something   she   would   be   comfortable   doing.   A   suitcase  
packed   for   vacation   needs   to   contain   a   couple   books   on   social   psychology   and   the   fall   of  
Yugoslavia,  and  inspiration  for  new  projects  is  always  a  welcome  topic  on  the  beach.    “At  
Youth   Initiative   I   always   have   the   motivation,”   Maša   smiles.   “Because   a   change   might   be  
coming  slowly,  but  it  is  coming.”  
—-­‐  
 
THE  SMALL  CHANGE  
It’s  all  about  faith,  she  insists.  “You  are  not  competing  in  elections,  so  you  will  not  see  from  
election   results   if   your   campaign   was   a   good   one   or   not.   But   you   can   see   small   change   in  
people.”  It’s  the  small  change  that  keeps  Maša  inspired.  A  few  days  before  our  interview,  a  
letter   came   from   the   constitutional   court.   The   NGO’s   intern   won   a   legal   plea   about   not  
having   to   see   a   priest   as   a   condition   for   abortion.   A   despised   minister   was   about   to   be  
removed  from  power  for  corruption.  But  the  ultimate  measure  of  success  for  Maša  will  be  
her  future  children.  “If  I  have  a  daughter  in  a  ten  year’s  time,  and  if  she  decides  to  cut  her  hair  

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off,  if  she  decides  that  she  is  a  lesbian,  if  she  can  kiss  her  girlfriend  at  a  café,  I  will  know  that  I  
succeeded.”  
—-­‐  
 
2.  RUŽA:  THE  GENE  FOR  JUSTICE  
 
I  spot  Ruža  on  Trg  Republike,  the  only  person  in  the  city  center  riding  her  bike  through  the  
crowd.   In   denim   shorts   torn   on   purpose   and   a   sleeveless   80’s-­‐style   shirt,   with   red   hair  
messily   tied   into   a   long   pigtail   I   wouldn’t   have   guessed   she’s   over   30.   We   meet   at   a   quarter  
to  two  and  end  up  at  a  coffee  place  next  to  a  Studentski  Trg,  a  park  notorious  for  summer  
night  movie  screenings  and  discrete  benches  for  two.  The  wind  blows  chilly,  and  we  speak  
about   how   July   is   much   colder   than   usually.   Ruža   ties   her   bike   to   a   traffic   sign   post   in   front  
of  the  coffee  place’s  summer  garden,  and  we  cross  the  doorstep  together.  Inside,  couches,  
chairs  and  pillows  of  all  varieties.  Ruža,  a  former  employee  of  multiple  Belgrade’s  human  
rights   NGOs,   and   a   self-­‐proclaimed   anarchist,   slides   right   below   a   massive   painting   in  
orange  and  sits  with  her  back  to  the  street  window,  gesturing  to  me  to  come  and  sit  next  to  
her  -­‐  “you’ll  have  it  comfortable  here.”    
—-­‐  
 
THE  REFUGEE  STIGMA  
“I  was  born  in  Bosnia,  and  I  lived  in  Bosnia  for  the  first  twelve  years  of  my  life,”  is  how  she  
begins   a   story   of   her   coming   to   an   activist   consciousness.   Ruža   spent   her   childhood   in  
Bihać,  a  predominantly  Muslim  town  in  north-­‐west  of  the  Bosnian  triangle.  “It’s  was  such  a  
cool  town,  but  because  both  my  parents  were  Serbs,  it  was  insecure  for  them  to  stay  once  the  
war  begun  in  Bosnia  in  1992.  They  knew  everyone  in  town,  but  because  of  all  the  fear,  that  
April   they   decided   to   leave.”   Just   two   weeks,   they   thought.   Ružica   packed   two   light   shirts,  
leaving  behind  her  treasured  collection  of  stickers.  “We  thought  we  would  just  leave  for  a  bit  
and  then  come  back.  It  was  springtime,  we  packed  light.”  As  she  recalls  the  move,  she  pours  
sugar  on  top  of  her  coffee’s  cream.  Attempting  to  mix  it  together  half  of  the  cream  outs  of  
the  cup.  We  laugh.  “I  escaped  the  war,”  she  smiles,  as  if  she  knew  that  I’m  wondering  how  
can  one  be  so  relaxed  speaking  of  war.  “I  never  took  that  as  a  big  thing,  because  I  was  aware  
of   what   happened   to   other   people.   Much   worse   things   happened   to   people   in   Bosnia.”    

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Arriving   to   Belgrade,   Ruža’s   family   found   itself   luckier   than   many   others.   Despite   being  
small,   grandfather’s   flat   provided   an   immediate   refuge,   and   distant   family   connections  
meant  Ruža’s  parents  at  least  stood  a  chance  at  finding  a  job.  “My  older  sister  walked  around  
the  streets,  yelling,  ‘I  hate  you  all,  I  hate  you  all’,  but    I  was  small,  for  me  it  was  fun,  moving  to  
a  big  city,  at  least  until  school  started.”    Once  September  came  along,  Ruža  felt  singled  out  
for   the   first   time.   Serbia   was   full   of   refugees,   some   from   Kosovo,   some   from   Croatia,   and  
some  from  Bosnia.  “At  least  a  handful  in  every  class.  And  we  all  talked  a  little  funny,”  Ruža  
recalls,  why  she  felt  unwelcomed.  High  unemployment,  food  shortages  and  inflation  all  had  
to   be   blamed   on   someone.   “It   wasn’t   until   high   school   that   I   adapted   to   Belgrade   and   Serbia  
and  stopped  feeling  like  I  was  hurting  somebody  just  by  being  here.”  
—-­  
 
THE  SENSE  FOR  RIGHT  AND  WRONG  
“I   hated   the   regime,   and   Milošević   too,   since   I   was   very   young,”   Ruža   remembers,   while  
sipping  water  from  the  glass  that  came  along  with  her  coffee.  She  blamed  the  state  for  not  
preventing   the   war,   for   having   to   leave   home   and   move   to   the   hostile   new   city.   “But   my  
parents   grew   up   in   this   communist-­socialist   system   where   they   saw   the   state   as   God.   They  
really  believed  in  the  state  as  in  the  single  truth.”  Ruža’s  parents  retained  the  loyalty  to  state  
even   through   the   war,   even   through   out   the   hard   first   years   in   Belgrade.   She   remembers  
the  conservatism  of  her  parents  infringing  on  her  need  for  expression.  “I  was  not  allowed  to  
have   an   opinion   on   anything.”   And   so   Ruža   confided   herself   to   a   journal.   “I   recently   found  
this   diary,   and   I   couldn’t   believe   how   much   I   understood   back   then.”     Ruža   read   her   fourteen  
years  old  self  complaining  about  how  she  hated  Milošević,  Karazdic,  and  her  own  parents,  
too.   “They   couldn’t   understand   that   for   me   all   this   was   so   clearly   evil.   It’s   pretty   straight  
forward,   common   sense.   If   you’re   killing   people,   you   are   evil,   that’s   that.”     Ruža   started   to  
realize  she  wasn’t  ready  to  conform.  “I  don’t  know  from  where  it  came,  it  might  be  some  kind  
of  a  gene  for  justice,”  she  laughs  aloud.    
 
In   high   school,   for   the   first   time,   she   met   people   like   herself.   People,   who   were   a   little  
alternative   in   every   sense   -­‐   the   music   they   listened   to,   the   topics   they   found   interesting.  
And   so   Ruža   found   her   first   protest   crew.   “From   that   time   a   distance   between   me   and   my  

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parents  really  started  to  build  up,”  Ruža  recalls.  The  protests  were  now  happening  almost  
every   day,   and   Ruža   would   go,   join   the   crowds   in   streets,   escaping   violent   policemen   every  
day   after   school.   “And   then   I   would   come   home,   and   my   parents   were   just   sitting   there,  
watching   TV   news   quietly,   or   going   to   sleep,   and   I   was   so   very   pissed.”   She   throws   her   hands  
into   the   air,   and   asks—-­‐“how?   How   could   they   not   know   what’s   happening   outside   at   that  
very  moment?  Police  was  beating  people  up,  and  they  would  just  sit  there,  not  care  about  this.  
It   made   me   very,   very   angry.”     Ruža   spends   a   lot   of   time   thinking   about   how   she   came   to  
understood  things  so  differently  from  her  own  parents.  “Maybe  it’s  empathy,  I  can’t  find  any  
other   reason,”   she   concludes,   ruling   out   family   and   society   as   the   reason   she   became  
actively  involved  in  public  matters.  
—-­‐  
 
JOINING  YOUTH  INITIATIVE  
“It  must  be  people  who  are  very  sensitive  to  what’s  right  and  what’s  wrong,”  Ruža  keeps  on  
trying  to  answer  my  original  question  about  people  who  become  liberal  activists  in  Serbia  
today.   She   stretches   her   legs   under   the   coffee   table,   gaze   fixed   to   the   distance.     “It   might  
also  be  that  these  youth  NGOs  give  you  space  to  articulate  that  punk  attitude  of  rebellion  that  
everyone   feels   when   they   are   sixteen,   seventeen.”   But   young   people   do   not   look   for  
organizations  like  Youth  Initiative  in  order  to  fight  for  a  specific  issue,  Ruža  speculates.  “We  
don’t   come   to   NGOs   to   learn   about   the   war   crimes   that   happened   in   Trnopolje   or   in  
Srebrenica5,   to   learn   more   about   the   war   past.   We     come   with   that   punk   attitude,   wanting   to  
fight  against  what  we  think  is  messed  up  around  us.”      
 
“I  was  so  amazed  when  I  arrived  for  the  first  time,  those  people  were  thinking  just  like  me!”  
Ruža   joined   Youth   Initiative,   as   she   says,   by   accident,   in   2007.   A   smile   passed   on   the   street  
lead  to  the  passing  of  a  flier,  and  an  invitation  for  an  activist  training.  “I  was  so  righteous,”  
Ruža   remembers.   “I   hated   Slobodan   Milošević,   I   was   an   atheist,   and   I   believed   in   human  
rights,   but   that   alone   doesn’t   make   one   an   activist.   There   was   so   much   I   needed   to   learn.”  
Ruža   sees   the   NGO   as   a   school,   an   educational   institution   substituting   the   work   public  

                                                                                                               
5  Trnopolje  and  Srebrenica  are  sites  of  prisoner  camps  and  war  massacres  organized  by  Serbian  

militias  on  the  territory  of  today’s  Bosnia  and  Herzegovina  during  the  war  of  Yugoslav  secession.        

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schools  omit  from  the  syllabi.  “They  really  upgraded  me,”  she  laughs.  What  she  values  the  
most,   however,   are   the   experiences   and   lessons   that   helped   her   find   arguments   beyond  
moral  judgment.  What  she  remembers  most  clearly  is  her  first  trip  to  Prishtina,  the  capital  
city  of  Kosovo.  “You  see  how  actually,  despite  being  a  liberal,  opened  person,  you  are  full  of  
prejudice,”  Ruža  remembers  being  shocked  that  Albanians,  portrayed  negatively  in  Serbian  
public   space,   turned   out   to   be   regular   people.   “That   just   showed   me   that   those   years   of  
propaganda   really   influence   everyone.   Even   people   like   me,   who   aren’t   fascists,   even   cool  
people,  even  liberals.”  Coming  back  home  from  a  trip  she  enjoyed  beyond  any  expectation,  
Ruža   was   disappointed   to   find   her   best   friends   mistrustful   of   her   stories   from   Kosovo.  
“They  didn’t  believe  me.  That  was  really  frustrating.  You  come  to  see  the  truth,  and  you  want  
everybody   to   know   that   truth,     but   you   have   to   do   more   than   just   tell   them.”     She   looks  
perplexed,  sipping  the  last  drops  of  her  coffee.  
 —-­‐  
 
BEING  TIRED  
The   work   at   Youth   Initiative   proved   to   be   exhausting.   “You   have   periods   when   you   really  
stop   believing   in   everything   you   do,”   she   confides.   After   two   years   with   the   organization,  
Ruža  was  tired  of  fighting  the  same  battles  over  and  over  again.  “Civilno  družstvo  has  now  
been  active  for  more  than  ten  years,  and  a  lot  of  money  flew  through  with  no  visible  results.”  
Her  friends  didn’t  approve  either.  “You  are  just  selling  fog,”  they  said.  But  Ruža  knows  how  
hard   she   worked,   how   many   campaigns   got   done,   and   the   lives   of   how   many   individuals  
were   changed.   “The   impact   was   too   small,   though,”   and   Ruža   was   craving   normalcy.   “The  
whole   90’s   I   spent   out   on   the   streets,   fighting,   and   then   again   with   Youth   Initiative.   I   really  
craved  normal  life,  not  having  to  react  to  every  day  politics  every  day.”    
—-­  
 
LEAVING  SERBIA  
In  2010,  Ruža  left  Serbia.  But  in  Germany,  the  newly  rising  Neo-­‐Nazi  movement  didn’t  let  
her  sleep  either.  “If  you  are  me,  you  have  the  need  to  fight  everywhere,  it’s  a  global  process.  
There   is   no   way   to   escape   that.”   Engaged   in   German   anarchist   circles,   Serbian   problems  
faded  away.  “It  was  so  relaxing.  I  was  reading  the  news,  but  in  a  way  there  is  always  a  certain  
distance   when   you   aren’t   home.   It   didn’t   stress   me   as   much.”   Ruža   left   Belgrade   with   the  

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intention   to   never   go   back,   but   Germany   didn’t   feel   completely   right   either.   “You   are   a  
foreigner,  it’s  not  your  country  you  are  fighting  for,  you  are  always  a  bit  on  the  outside.”  2012  
brought   a   dramatic   election   to   Serbia,   but   Ruža   stayed   calm.   “I   was   in   Indonesia   at   the   time.  
My  friends,  horrified  at  the  election  results,  were  threatening  to  leave  the  country  in  Facebook  
statuses,  but  I  just  finished  meditating,  and  was  more  Zen.”  Ruža  appreciated  the  change,  a  
clear   signal   to   political   parties   that   they   are   replaceable.   “Somehow,   having   a   bit   of   a  
distance  changed  my  perspective.  I  think  it’s  always  good  to  take  a  break,”  Ruža  is  happy  for  
having  tried  it.    “But  after  two  years  away  I  missed  Serbia  somehow,”  she  explains  why  she  
decided  to  come  back.    
—-­‐  
 
THE  SLOW  CHANGE  
“It’s  small  steps  we  are  taking,  but  it  is  a  process.  When  I  was  in  Germany  I  understood  how  
long  these  things  take.”  Ruža  feels  calm  about  waiting,  maybe  for  fifty  years.  “I  don’t  think  
there  will  ever  be  an  end  to  the  process,  Germany  is  a  good  example.”  Ruža  speaks  about  the  
process   of   dealing   with   the   past.   “We   have   been   working   for   ten   years   and   people   are   still  
ignorant  at  large,”  she  complains  a  little,  but  switches  to  the  small  changes  she  witnessed  
already.   “This   really   gives   me   hope.   When   we   first   started   to   take   people   from   Kosovo   to  
Belgrade,  they  could  only  pass  with  a  Serbian  ID,  which  was  almost  impossible  to  get.  We  had  
to  alert  the  authorities  that  they  will  be  crossing  the  border  months  in  advance.  Today  they  
travel   when   they   want,   how   they   want,   with   a   Kosovar   ID.   More   and   more   people   come   on  
their  own.  It  doesn’t  get  into  newspapers,  but  it’s  happening!”    
 
“You   have   to   accept   the   reality,   then   its   not   as   frustrating.   I   was   frustrated,   but   now   I   am  
more  Zen.  This  is  the  reality,  it  has  to  pass.  It  will  pass,  and  maybe  Serbia  will  be  like  this  for  
the  next  five  decades,  but  I  accept  that.  When  we  finally  have  the  country  I  would  imagine,  I  
will  be  maybe  70  years  old.  In  elementary  schools  they  will  teach  about  LGBTQA  rights,  about  
dealing   with   the   past,   and   all   that.   But   I   don’t   think   it   can   go   faster.   Let’s   just   not   take   what’s  
happening  here  now  too  seriously,  it  will  pass.”    
 

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When   we   finished,   Ruža   tried   to   put   the   bookmark,   chocolates   and   a   can   of   beer   I   gave   her  
as  a  thank  you  into  one  of  her  pockets.  She  didn’t  have  anything  there,  just  a  simple  Nokia  
phone,  but  the  beer  didn’t  fit.  She  said  she  lives  nearby  and  biked  of,  holding  the  can  in  one  
hand  and  the  handles  of  her  bike  in  the  other.  I  was  relieved  to  learn  that  she  got  home  safe.      
—-­‐  
 
3.  ANITA:  CROSSING  THE  DIVIDE(S)  
 
It’s   a   hot   first   day   of   August   when   Anita   and   I   meet   in   downtown   Belgrade.   We   head  
downhill,   past   the   tramway   tracks   and   rush   of   traffic   jam,   towards   a   tiny   café   on   Cara  
Dušana.   The   two-­‐floor   bar   overlooks   a   small   square,   almost   entirely   filled   with   an   old  
Orthodox  Church  of  St.  Alexander  Nevski.  We  order  two  lattés,  thick  and  foamy,  and  settle  
on   the   upstairs   balcony,   decorated   with   simple   wooden   tables   and   bags   of   coffee   beans.  
Anita,  all  in  black,  radiates  with  energy,  speaks  loud,  and  laughs  even  louder.  Large  metal  
necklace  and  straight  blond  banks  falling  over  her  eyebrows  give  her  a  polished,  but  very  
original  look.  “Who  wants  the  heart  and  who  wants  the  rose?”  the  waiter  asks  jokingly  once  
the   coffee   is   ready,   referring   to   the   shape   of   the   foam   ornaments   in   the   two   white   cups.  
“Give  me  your  heart,”  Anita  laughs  at  him,  and  I  need  to  make  do  with  a  rose.  We  are  both  in  
a  good  mood,  and  I  ask  Anita  to  tell  me  more  about  how  she  got  involved  with  the  youth  
NGO  where  I  originally  met  her.  The  story  is  longer  than  I  expected.    
—-­‐  
 
THE  FIVE  YEAR  PLAN  
“Well,   I   was   born   in   1990,   so   I   wasn’t   even   a   year   old   when   the   war   started.   Basically,   I   didn’t  
live  a  day  in  a  normal  country,”  she  begins  to  tell  me  about  her  childhood  in  the  war-­‐time  
Belgrade,  suffocated  with  food  shortages  and  media  blockade.  “Once  I  tried  to  make  a  five  to  
ten  year  plan  for  myself  write  down,  how  I  wanted  my  future  to  look  like,”  Anita  sips  from  her  
cup  and  smiles.  “But  the  next  day  the  barricades  in  Kosovo  started,  and  I  took  my  five  to  ten  
year   plan   and   threw   it   out   into   the   garbage,”   she   describes   the   bizarre   insecurities   of   life   in  
Serbia.     “But   I   was   the   popular   kid   in   school,   and   so   I   was   really   enjoying   myself   anyway.”  
Apparently,  being  popular  among  teenagers  in  Serbia  involves  much  of  bad  music  and  even  

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more  make-­‐up,  Anita  explains.  The  disco  culture  of  Serbian  90’s,  which  continues  to  show  
on   Friday   nights   and   disappear   on   Sunday   mornings   comprises   of   glitter   and   time   spent   at  
the   bars   and   brodovi,   dance   clubs   floating   on   the   river   Sava.   “I   wasn’t   really   interested   in  
anything  then,  because  I  was  so  popular,”  Anita  laughs  and  makes  a  silly  face.    
—-­‐  
 
REVOLTING  AGAINST  OUR  LIVES  
She  gets  more  serious  again  as  she  begins  to  explain  more  about  the  culture  of  Turbofolk.  
“Turbofolk   really   represents   the   90’s.   But   it   continues   being   popular   today,   because   young  
people  don’t  have  where  else  to  focus  their  energy  on.”  The  most  popular  Turbofolk  singer,  
fashionably  called  Ceca,  is  the  widow  of  Željko  Ražnatović,  known  among  Serbs  as  Arkan.  
“He   was   the   biggest   war   criminal,”   Anita   fills   me   in.   “This   is   not   only   about   music”,   she  
continues  with  a  grim  face,  “this  is  ideology,  a  system  of  values  that  you  participate  in.”  She  
attributes  the  popularity  of  Turbofolk  to  the  ease  with  which  it  provides  satisfaction.  The  
music,   inspired   by   traditional   Serbian   folk   songs,   but   modernized   to   quickly   memorable  
pop  rhythms,  encourages  wild  life  of  flirt  and  focus  on  superficial  excitement.  “These  fifteen  
year  old  kids  are  so  poor,  their  only  thing  in  the  world  is  having  someone  buy  them  a  drink  
after   they’ve   dressed   up   like   they   are   30.   It’s   a   kind   of   revolt   against   the   rest   of   their   lives,”  
Anita  explains.  Having  gone  through  the  period  herself,  she  sees  the  main  problem  in  the  
lack   of   alternative   space   that   the   youth   could   engage   in.   “It’s   al   just   going   out,   drinking,  
having  fun,  trying  to  kill  time.  When  you  know  something  is  missing,  but  you  need  to  revolt  
because   life   is   boring.   You   have   all   the   energy,   but   you   are   putting   it   into   stupid   things  
because  there  is  nothing  else,  and  you  are  young  and  you  need  to  spend  the  energy.”    Anita  
blames   the   poor   education   system,   and   general   lack   of   focus   on   youth   in   the   policy-­‐making  
circles.  “It  really  tears  me  apart,  I  think  about  this  a  lot.  I  believe  that  instead  of  having  youth  
engaging   in   these   destructive   habits,   or   being   inspired   by   the   nationalist   groups—-­being  
inspired   by   hate,   we   could   give   them   a   chance,   maybe   a   little   bit   like   the   chance   I   got   from  
Youth  Initiative.”  
—-­‐  
 
 

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FROM  TURBOFOLK  TO  HUMAN  RIGHTS  
“When  I  was  in  3rd  or  4th  year  of  high  school,  I  decided  that  I  wanted  something  more  from  life,  
that   I   can   give   more,   and   that   I   want   people   to   get   what   I   can   give,”   Anita   describes   her  
motivation  to  exit  the  Turbofolk  lifestyle.  “I  wasn’t  aware  that  that  particular  day  will  be  one  
of  the  greatest  days  of  my  life,  or  even  that  a  single  day,  single  coincidence  could  change  my  
life  so  much”  she  describes  the  day  when  she  first  learned  about  the  NGO  she  later  joined  as  
a  volunteer.  Anita  proceeds  to  tell  me  a  story  of  seeing  an  unknown  man  wearing  a  t-­‐shirt,  
which   said   “I   am   the   heart   of   Serbia”,     a   clever   twist   on   the   nationalist   slogan   “Kosovo   is   the  
heart   of   Serbia,”   used   by   conservative   groups   to   highlight   that   despite   political  
developments,   Kosovo   remains   an   integral   part   of   their   homeland’s   history   and   culture.  
“Later  I  found  stickers  similar  to  that  shirt,  and  I  sent  an  email  to  the  address  on  that  sticker.  I  
didn’t   know   anything,   but   I   think   my   heart   was   on   the   right   place.”   Anita   describes,   how   she  
felt  the  first  time  that  someone  listened  to  her,  “I  felt  that  I  belonged  somewhere,  in  terms  
that  they  wanted  to  accept  me  as  I  was,  teach  me,”  Anita  smiles,  bursting  into  laughter  as  she  
tells  me  about  all  the  jokes  that  came  to  be  about  Anita  turning  from  Turbofolk  to  human  
rights.   She   describes   Youth   Initiative   as   “the   piece   that   was   missing,”   something   that  
gradually  made  her  life  feel  very  fulfilling.  She  is  confident  that  also  others  can  be  rescued  
from   Turbofolk.   “Now   I   believe   that   anyone   can   exit   that   world   of   self-­destruction   and  
boredom,  because  I  was  so  deeply  entrenched  in  it  myself,  and  I  no  longer  am.  I  now  believe  in  
change,  that  the  society  can  be  changed!  My  own  story  gives  me  hope.”  
—-­‐  
 
BUILDING  OUR  FUTURE  
The   day   when   Anita   first   came   to   the   Youth   Initiative’s   office,   Maša   and   Luka   were   excited,  
running  around  with  scissors  and  sketches.  “Come  on,  come  on,  we  are  making  stencils  for  
graffiti!,”  Anita  remembers  being  pulled  in,  and  in  no  time  she  found  herself  spraying  facts  
about  crimes  committed  in    Kosovo  on  the  walls  of  Belgrade,  right  next  to  the  nationalist  
slogans.  “I  was  suddenly  getting  so  much  new  information.  I  couldn’t  even  believe  how  much  I  
never  heard  about,”  Anita  remembered  her  first  year  as  a  volunteer  in  the  Youth  Initiative.  
“And  so  I  had  to  start  figuring  out  how  to  deal  with  the  new  information.  I  thought  I  had  a  
pretty  bad  childhood,  but  then  I  begun  meeting  people  from  Sarajevo,  born  during  the  Siege,  

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and   I   realized   -­   damn,   what   a   wonderful   childhood   I   had.”   During   Anita’s   first   trip   to   a  
commemoration  ceremony  in  Bosnia,  she  felt  like  she  should  apologize  for  crimes  that  she  
never  asked  anyone  to  commit,  and  thought  a  lot  about  how  strange  that  was.“  I  was  five  
when  this  massacre  happened,  why  should  I  say  sorry?  But  then  I  realized  it’s  not  about  the  
apology,   it’s   how   you   are   taking   the   lesson   and   applying   it   to   building   the   future.”   Anita  
reflects  on  the  meaning  of  ‘reconciliation’.  “Reconciliation  is  such  a  perfect  word  in  English.  
In   Serbian   it’s   simply   ‘pomirenje’,   but   in   English,   pronouncing   it   almost   feels   like   what   it   is   -­   a  
reincarnation  of  relations.”  She  believes  that  reconciliation  comes,  when  two  sides  are  able  
to   work   together.   “You   don’t   need   to   love   each   other,   but   you   need   to   function.   See   what  
happened,  talk  about  it,  convict  those  who  are  responsible  for  the  crimes,  and  start  a  normal  
life  again.”    
—-­‐  
 
FEAR  
Involvement   with   Youth   Initiative   made   Anita   comfortable   standing   up   for   what   she  
believes  in  public.  In  a  country  flagged  by  Human  Rights  Watch  for  the  high  frequency  of  
violent   hate   crimes   against   the   country’s   sexual,   ethnic,   and   political   minorities   (Human  
Rights  Watch  2013),  speaking  up  about  highly  unpopular  issues  presents  a  serious  risk  to  
personal   safety,   however.   “I   do   feel   safe,”   Anita   says   resolutely,   when   I   ask.   “But   that   just  
means   that   something   is   probably   wrong   in   my   head,   because   I   am   not   afraid,   perhaps   I  
should  be.”    But  then  she  goes  on  to  describe  a  pact  she  made  with  herself.  “After  an  action  
we   did,   in   which   I   was   pretending   to   be   a   bride   marrying   another   woman   in   public,   I   was  
coming   home   and   looking   behind   my   shoulder   if   someone   was   following   me.   But   then   I  
realized   what   I   was   doing   and   stopped.   I   said   to   myself,   ‘you   knew   that   this   was   going   to  
happen’,   and   made   a   deal   with   myself   that   I’m   not   going   to   be   afraid.   These   are   the  
consequences,  this  is  how  it  is,  it  has  to  be  done.”  Her  parents  are  worried,  but  Anita  stands  
by  her  decision.   “My  friends  were  also  worried  about  me,”  Anita  laughs,  scraping  the  rests  of  
the   foam   from   her   coffee   cup.   “When   I   was   leaving   to   Prishtina,   Kosovo,   for   the   first   time,  
they  were  all  acting  like  I  was  going  into  a  concentration  camp.”  Prishtina.  Anita  spends  the  
next   ten   minutes   dreaming   about   Prishtina.   “It’s   my   favourite   city   in   the   entire   whole   world.  
And  now  my  friends  are  always  asking  me,  when  I’ll  take  them,”  she  describes  their  change  in  

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attitude.   “I   think   in   some   way   people   do   change.   Not   only   because   they   see   me   going   and  
coming  back  and  going  again,  excited.  Actually,  one  of  my  friends  ended  up  going  to  Prishtina  
by  herself  earlier  this  summer.”  But  it’s  not  only  about  the  friends,  who  are  influenced.  The  
entire  office’s  influence  cannot  be  measured.  “We  don’t  know  how  far  the  impact  of  our  work  
travels.   We   don’t     the   names   of   the   people   who   change,   but   who   knows,   maybe   we   had  
influence  on  them  a  little  bit.  But  the  NGOs  can  never  do  it  on  a  scale  large  enough  to  change  a  
lot  of  people  in  shorter  amount  of  time.”  
—-­  
 
THE  SERIOUS  POLITICS  
It   looks   like   the   NGO   sphere   is   no   longer   a   single   actor   in   the   public   space   who   cares   about  
dealing  with  the  past  and  human  rights,  however.  “Do  you  want  to  hear  the  real  story  or  the  
official   story   of   how   I   got   involved   with   the   Youth   of   the   Social   Democratic   party?”   Of   course,  
the   real   one,   I   say.   “I   first   sought   to   connect   with   this   political   group   because   I   heard   they  
throw   hell   good   parties!,”   Anita,   who   is   now   the   president   of   the   entire   youth   branch,  
laughs.  While  originally  she  didn’t  think  political  involvement  would  be  interesting  to  her,  
she   realizes   the   limitations   of   NGO   work.   Her   party   remains   in   opposition,   below   the  
threshold  necessary  for  public  office  representation.   “At  one  point  I  realized  that  a  lot  of  the  
people  I  knew  from  the  non-­profit  scene  were  members  or  fans  of  this  party,  and  that  I  respect  
everyone   sitting   around   the   table   here   so   much.   I   decided   to   get   involved   more,   and   I’m  
hoping  that  maybe,  in  ten  years,  I  could  be  in  serious  high  politics.  Even  though  you  know  how  
I  feel  about  planning  for  the  future  in  Serbia,”  she  jokes.  
 
“For   women   it’s   really   hard   to   get   higher   in   politics   here,”   Anita   sighs.   “But   I   will   not   wear  
suits  and  I  will  not  be  a  brunette.  I  will  be  blond,  I  will  be  wearing  a  lots  of  jewelry  and  the  
pink  color  that  I  love,  and  it  won’t  make  me  less  intelligent  or  knowledgeable  about  things.”  
Anita   explains,   that   she   wants   to   fight   on   her   own   terms.   She   proceeds   to   talk   about   the  
older  women  at  her  NGO.  “They  are  my  role  models,  they  are  so  powerful.  They  are  not  part  
of  the  male  world,  they  are  so  fashionable  and  feminine,  yet  everyone  respects  them.  I  want  to  
bring  a  woman  like  that  into  politics.  At  least  one,  myself,  one  day.”                ….              .              .        .              .                      
 

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—-­‐  
With   these   three   women   we   embarked   on   an   exploration   of   the   civilno   družstvo.   With   an  
image   of   specific   individuals   in   mind,   let’s   go   ahead   and   outline   more   of   what   this   sector   of  
Serbian  society  looks  like,  and  in  what  ways  they  resist  the  dominant  Serbian  narratives.    

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 CHAPTER  4:  
CIVILNO  DRUŽSTVO  
 
 
 
 
 
The  civilno  družstvo  is  where  youth  like  Ruža,  Anita  and  Maša  find  their  niche.    This  chapter  
will  assert  that  in  opposition  to  the  dominant  Serbian  myth,  the  liberal  youth  individually  
and  collectively  formulate  and  sustain  alternative  narratives  to  guide  their  daily  existence,  
activism,  and,  among  additional  things,  also  their  hopes  for  the  future.  I  will  show  how  the  
concepts   of   human   rights   and   transitional   justice   become   the   central   elements   of   these  
alternative   narratives,   weaved   together   by   the   motive   of   responsibility.   Bulk   of   the   chapter  
will  focus  on  how  the  liberal  narratives  get  reproduced  and  collectively  negotiated  through  
ritual-­‐like   actions   and   practices   among   those   participating   in   the   civilno   družstvo.   The  
section   will   conclude   with   a   brief   discussion   of   the   goals   and   aims   prevalent   among   the  
youth   participating   in   these   alternative   ideologies,   and   their   thoughts   on   reconciliation.    
Because   both   my   working   desk   and   primary   informants   were   located   at   the   office   of   Youth  
Initiative   for   Human   Rights,   a   large   portion   of   my   ethnography   will   focus   on   that  
organization  specifically.  My  aim,  however,  is  to  describe  and  analyze  trends  of  alternative  
ideology  formation  and  preservation  present  through-­‐out  the  civilno  družstvo.    
—-­  
 
  The  youth  who  participate  in  civilno  družstvo  are  not  exempt  from  influences  of  the  
dominant  Serbian  narrative  that  come  from  the  schooling  system,  public  space,  and  other  
sources   discussed   more   closely   in   chapter   Two.   They,   too   are   experiencing   the  liminality   of  
Serbian   post   socialist   and   post-­‐conflict   transition.   With   present   defined   by   nostalgia   rather  
than   by   progress   or   direction   for   the   future,   the   insecurity   and   frustration   of   their  
perceived   social   as   well   as   political   stagnation   affects   the   liberal   youth   just   as   it   impacts  
their   more   conservative   or   politically   apathetic   peers.   In   contrast   to   them,   however,   the  
liberal  youth  activisst  do  not  respond  by  adapting  and  embracing  the  national  myth.    
  Seeking   to   establish   order   amidst   the   fragmented   social   fabric   (Oushakine   2009),  
the  liberal  youth  make  an  effort  to  renegotiate  rather  than  re-­‐establish  the  previous  social  

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structures  promoted  by  the  dominant  national  myth.  Instead  of  attempting  to  restore  the  
old   social   norms   and   cognitive   frames,   they   rethink   them,   introducing   new   narratives   to  
the   society,   which   are   largely   at   odds   with   the   prevalent,   state-­‐sponsored   motives.   Few  
anthropologists  focus  on  the  power  of  the  civil  sector  to  offer  ideological  direction  to  their  
societies.  Catherine  Wanner,  writing  on  post-­‐Socialist  transition  in  the  Russian  Federation,  
however,  notes  that  “state  ideology,  secular  dissidents,  and  religious  communities  are  the  
three  main  sources,…  that  provide  the  foundation  for  moral  codes  and  understandings  as  to  
what   constitutes   authoritative   knowledge   and   truth”   (2011:   219).   Jarrett   Zigon   (2011),  
similarly,   notes   that   secular   non-­‐state   actors   often   act   as   a   source   of   the   “cultural   and  
epistemological   questioning”   that   he,   too   finds   to   be   typical   for   periods   of   social   and  
political  upheaval  (3).  Frequently,  anthropologists  have  studied  Orthodox  Christianity  as  a  
source  of  morality  and  ethics  in  transitioning  Eastern  European  societies  (e.g.  Etkind  1996,  
Hann   &   Hermann   2010,   Heintz   2009,   Zigon   2011   and   others),   but   rarely   have   they  
addressed   secular   sources   competing   with   state   authority   and   the   Church   in   articulating  
coherent  and  widely  acceptable  notions  of  morality  and  ethics6.  Contemporary  Serbia  could  
be  well  described  as  a  land  struggling  to  negotiate  and  commit  to  a  viable  and  productive  
source   of   ideological   guidance.   While   the   conservative   State   and   the   Orthodox   Church  
perceive   an   erosion   of   morality   in   Serbia   to   be   the   result   of   corrupting   influence   of   the  
Western   liberalism   and   unrestrained   consumerism   (Čolović   2002,   Greenberg   2011,  
interviews   with   conservative   youth),   my   liberal   informants   perceive   the   practical  
manifestations  of  the  dominant  Serbian  myth  to  be  at  the  center  of  Serbia’s  contemporary  
ideological  and  socio-­‐political  stagnation:  
 
“In  Serbia,  almost  every  current  issue  has  a  weigh  on  it  that  comes  from  history.  
In  national  terms,  the  inter-­ethnic  relationships  and  conflicts  from  the  past,  and  
in  economic  terms  it  would  be  the  communist  period.  Those  are  the  weights  that  
remain  and  the  excuses  that  are  used  not  to  do  something  now.  People  just  got  
accustomed  to  using  things  that  happened  in  the  past  as  excuses  for  the  current  
situation,  as  reasons  not  to  act  now.  Why  aren’t  we  doing  anything  differently?  
Economists  say  it’s  because  the  communists  wrecked  the  country.  And  the  inter-­
ethnic  relations…  they  say  Serbia  had  more  territory  before,  or  more  lived  there,  
                                                                                                               
6  More  influence  on  the  role  of  the  Orthodox  Church  in  perpetuating  and  teaching  the  national(ist)  

narratives  ought  to  be  conducted.  Because  my  own  time  in  the  field  was  limited,  this  issue  remains  
largely  open  to  investigation.  

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 and  that’s  why  we  shouldn’t  now  let  the  others  live  here,  and  so  on.  The  
nationalist  rhetoric  is  a  cover  up  for  not  moving  forward.”  -­‐  Muta  
 
THE  COUNTER-­NARRATIVES  
 
Individuals   who   feel   that   the   prevalent   national   myth   is   an   obstacle   to   progress   turn   to   the  
readily   available   legacy   of   anti-­‐war   and   anti-­‐Milošević   protests   from   the   2000.   Only   very  
few  of  the  many  organizations  active  in  the  civilno  družstvo  in  Belgrade  today  carry  a  direct  
institutional   memory   of   those   protests,   however.   Serbian   branch   of   the   global   feminist   and  
pacifist   organization   Women   in   Black,   Žene   u   Crnom,   are   one   of   the   few   groups   with   a  
presence   and   rhetoric   in   Serbia   that   dates   back   to   those   times.   The   majority   of  
organizations   within   civilno   družstvo   who   work   with   (or   are   comprised   of)   the   youth,  
however,   are   much   newer   and   therefore   lacking   the   clear   narrative   link   from   the   anti-­‐
Milošević  protests  of  the  1990’s,  even  though  the  do  cherish  the  legacy,  and  see  themselves  
as   a   part   of   the   same   trend.   After   the   fall   of   Milošević’s   regime   in   2000,   Serbia   has   been  
targeted   by   Western   institutions   and   non-­‐profit   foundations   such   as   the   Helsinki  
Committee   for   Human   Rights,   OSCE,   National   Democratic   Institute,     or   America’s  
Development   Foundation.   Their   involvement   has   brought   with   them   specific   frameworks  
and   terminology   of   post-­‐conflict   and   post-­‐socialist   recovery.   The   new   ideological  
frameworks   set   forth   by   the   civilno   družstvo   have   therefore   developed   partially   from   the  
legacy   of   Serbia’s   war-­‐time   opposition,   partially   from   the   frameworks   of   Western   liberal  
institutions   and   scholars   emphasizing   transitional   justice   and   human   rights,   and   partially  
from   the   contemporary   local   rhetoric   of   protest   against   the   status   quo.     I   will   now  
introduce   the   motives   that   constitute   the   liberal   narratives,   each   of   which   was   almost  
universally   accepted   among   my   informants:   the   human   rights,   transitional   justice,   and  
responsibility  to  make  change  happen  in  Serbia.    
 
HUMAN  RIGHTS  
The  first  narrative  employed  by  the  civilno  družstvo  makes  a  normative  argument  about  the  
universality   of   human   rights   naturally   allotted   to   every   individual   regardless   of   further  
identities  and  characteristics,  such  as  nationality  or  sexual  orientation.  This  framework  has  
been,   aside   of   figuring   in   the   title   of   many   of   the   civilno   družstvo’s   organizations,  

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predominant  in  my  liberal  informants’  answers  to  questions  such  as:  “what  are  the  issues  
in  Serbian  society  that  need  to  be  addressed?”  —  lack  of  respect  for  difference  and  human  
rights,  or  “What  do  you  hope  your  country  will  look  like  when  your  work  is  finished?”  —  I  
can’t  stop  working  until  the  Serbian  society  used  to  protecting  human  rights  and  to  all  those  
who   are   different.     ‘Human   Rights’,   a   term   referring   most   recently   to   the   United   Nations’  
Universal  Declaration  of  Human  Rights  (adapted  in  1948),  has  been  mentioned  daily  by  my  
informants  from  civilno  družstvo.  ‘Human  rights’  have  been  used  as  slogan  justifying  action,  
as   the   pass-­‐code   validating   demands   for   change,   but   they   were   rarely   defined.   When  
outlined,   the   concept   was   presented   as   closely   linked   to   my   informants’   idea   of   a   “normal”,  
healthy,   democratic   society,   such   as   in   the   statement   made   below   by   Lazar,   one   of   the  
young   volunteers   at   YIHR.   The   human   rights   narrative,   I   observed   among   my   young   liberal  
informants,   serves   as   a   model   of   and   for   ideal   social   interaction   that   is   inherently   tied   to  
and  enabled  by  democratic  governance  (Geertz  1973).  
 
“I  don’t  like  when  people  don’t  respect  other  people  and  I  think  Human  Rights  
are  very  important.  I  always  say  ‘we  all  have  rights  as  long  as  our  rights  don’t  
interrupt  those  of  others’.  That’s  democracy.  If  we  want  to  live  in  a  normal  
country,  in  a  democracy,  we’ve  got  to  follow  it,  be  led  by  it,  but  people  don’t  
really  do  that.  Human  Rights  are  really  important  because  even  if  we  don’t  like  
someone  it  doesn’t  mean  we  should  be  harming  them.  You  cannot  kill  or  abuse  
just  because  you  don’t  like  what  someone  does.  You  can  disagree.  Maybe  I  don’t  
like  that  you  are  gay  or  an  Albanian.  But  that  wasn’t  your  choice,  you  didn’t  
choose  it.  But  people  don’t  get  it.”  -­‐  Lazar  
 
The   concept   of   Human   Rights,   resting   on   assertions   of   human   equality   despite   diversity,  
isn’t   compatible   with   the   Serbian   state   sponsored   ethno-­‐centric   conservatism,   however.  
The   Human   Rights   narrative   challenges   the   dominant   perception   of   ‘how   the   Serbian  
society  ought  to  be’  according  to  the  national(ist)  myth.  The  imposition  of  the  human  rights  
concept  on  Serbian  society  though  the  activities  of  civilno  družstvo  has  been  perceived  as  an  
attempt   of   the   West   to   undermine   Serbia’s   strong   Orthodox   morale   and   relative  
independence   from   the   international  community.   Despite  my  informants’  understanding   of  
the  concept,  Human  Rights  continue  to  be  judged  as  an  obtrusive  framework  brought  into  
Serbia   by   the   West.   The   concept   is,   indeed,   associated   with   Western   liberalism   in   both  
historical  development  and  contemporary  practice.  Modern  theorists  of  human  rights  and  

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liberalism   struggle   to   divorce   Human   Rights   from   their   original   foundations   in   Western  
religious   philosophy   (Donelly   2003:47).   Similarly,   one   cannot   dismiss   the   political   role  
human   rights   and   similar   concepts   have   played   in   the   foreign   policy   of   Western   powers  
throughout  the  twentieth  and  twenty  first  centuries.  Some  interpretations  even  go  as  far  as  
to  point  to  human  rights  as  a  disguised  replacement  of  the  realist  Cold  war  strategies  of  the  
1980’s   (Guilhot   2005).   The   human   rights   ideology   and   global   practice   thus   contains  
characteristics  which  allow  its  interpretation    along  the  lines    of  the  Serbian  national  myth.    
   “They  usually  say  that  we  are  unpatriotic,  because  we  bring  these  Western  ideologies  
into  Serbia  and  try  to  implement  them  here,”  says  Aleksandar.  “But  for  me  that  is  just  a  sign  
that  people  haven’t  gone  through  the  democratic  transition  in  their  minds  just  yet.”  He,  too,  
emphasizes   the   connection   between   democratization   and   recognition   of   liberal   values   as  
beneficial  for  the  wellbeing  of  an  entire  society.  “It’s  way  easier  to  say  that  human  rights  are  
foreign,  that  the  ideas  about  equality  and  respect  have  been  brought  here  from  the  West,  than  
it   is   to   ask   oneself   what   is   it   that   we   are   doing   wrong,”   Anita   believes,   asserting   that   Human  
Rights   don’t   necessarily   need   to   be   understood   as   a   foreign   concept.     Numerous  
sociological  and  anthropological  works,  in  fact,  focus  on  describing  human  rights  as  socially  
constructed   and   locally   justified.   Interpreted   in   such   manner,   human   rights   can   be  
imagined   and   enforced   by   those   to   whom   they   would   apply,   rather   than   being   imposed  
from  the  outside.  Gregg  (2011),  for  example,  proposes  human  rights  to  be  a  process  of  local  
learning  which  “’cognitively  reframes’  local  cultural  and  political  elements”  in  ways  that  are  
more  corresponding  to  the  local  understanding  of  equality  (135).  One  could  argue  that  the  
coalition  between  Serbian  liberal  activists  and  the  minorities  they  protect  (LGBTQA,  non-­‐
Serbian  ethnics  within  the  country,  etc.)  is  precisely  a  start  of  such  local  reframing  of  moral  
practice,   even   though   in   reality   one   can   hardly   unwind   the   various   influences   which,  
together,    inspire  the  founding  of  native  human  rights  demands  and  movements.    
  The  Serbian  civil  civilno  družstvo    offers  an  opportunity  to  engage  with  and  combat  a  
whole  range  of  human  rights  issues  and  violations.  This  intersectionality  of  interests  struck  
me  when  I  first  arrived  to  Belgrade  and  begun  to  acquaint  myself  with  the  non  profit  scene.  
On   my   first   day   in   the   office   of   Youth   Initiative   for   Human   Rights,   nothing   else   but   LGBTQA  
rights  were  discussed  and  I  felt  confused.  Did  I  offer  to  volunteer  at  a  different  organization  
than   I   thought?   My   experience   with   non   profit   sectors   in   Central   and   Western   Europe   as  

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well   as   in   the   United   States   didn’t   prepare   me   for   the   intersectional   approach   of   civilno  
družstvo.   “Human   rights   don’t   have   a   hierarchy,”   Jasmina   said   when   I   asked   her   about   it  
after  a  few  days  at  the  office.  We  sat  on  a  little  office  balcony  as  she  smoked  her  cigarette,  
explaining   that   you   cannot   measure   and   compare   pain.   “You   have   to   respect   all   human  
rights  equally.  Everyone  is  born  equal,  all  violations  of  rights  are  making  someone    miserable.    
We   work   on   transitional   justice   a   little   more   than   on   the   other   issues,   but   we   try   to   pay  
attention  to  them  all.”    
  To   the   young   liberal   activists   human   rights   serve   a   function   of   moral   framework  
which   is,   regardless   of   its   origin,   perceived   as   relevant   and   necessary   in   the   region.   “So  
what  would  be  our  alternatives,  if  we  were  to  give  up  human  rights?  What  is  it  that  we  should  
strive   towards?”   Maša   asks,   what   she   usually   asks   those   who   accuse   her   of   working   against  
Serbia.  My  informants  from  civilno  družstvo  do  not  perceive  themselves  as  agents  of  foreign  
ideology  and  interest.  While  Western  interests  do  lend  themselves  to  the  local  activists  in  
the  form  of  financial  support  and  provision  of  an  theoretical  frameworks  and  vocabulary,  
those  who  are  discriminated  against  in  Serbia  as  a  result  of  the  post-­‐war  ethnic  resentment  
and  prejudice  towards  difference  demand  respect  and  equality  by  themselves,  regardless  of  
outside   support   for   their   cause,   my   informants   often   explained.   Human   rights,   however  
ambiguous  in  terms  of  foundations  and  questions  of  cultural  and  moral  imperialism,  serve  
as  a  framework  of  moral  reference  for  those  striving  for  justice  who  do  not  find  satisfactory  
guidance  in  the  Serbian  Orthodox  tradition  or  the  related  State-­‐sponsored  narratives.  
 
TRANSITIONAL  JUSTICE  
“We   are   always   stuck   in   history   which   is   not   dealt   with,”   Maja   Mićić,     director   of   Youth  
Initiative   for   Human   Rights   in   Belgrade   repeated   multiple   times   during   my   stay,   and   so   did  
many   others   who   referred   to   the   silence   surrounding   Serb,   Croat,   and   Bosniak   historical  
aggression   as   one   of   the   main   causes   of   prevailing   regional   instability   in   the   Balkans.  
‘Dealing  with  the  Past’  -­‐  ‘Suočavanje  sa  prošlošću’,  as  my  informants  referred  to  transitional  
justice,  has  been  overwhelmingly  present  during  my  time  in  Belgrade.  The  concept  served  
as  a  foundation  for  both  public  and  private  events  and  conversations  of  the  civilno  družstvo  
as   well   as   for   the   activists’   personal   explanations   of   what   progress   ought   to   look   like   in  
Serbia  and  in  the  Balkans  if  the  region  is  to  exit  a  century  long  series  of  conflict.    

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   In  the  academic  and  professional  circles,  transitional  justice  is  customarily  defined  
as  “the  set  of  measures  implemented  in  various  countries  to  deal  with  the  legacies  of  massive  
human   rights   abuses”   (Teitel,   2000).   Theories   of   transitional   justice   presume   that   truth  
about  violence  committed  needs  to  be  told  in  order  to  arrive  at  an  environment  conducive  
to  reconciliation  (Kiss,  2000:  71).  Typically,  the  process  includes  many  formal  and  informal  
mechanisms   of   truth   telling,   criminal   prosecution   of   individual   perpetrators,   recognition  
and  reparation  of  the  victims  as  well  as  institutional  reforms  and  grassroots  project  aimed  
at   breaking   prejudice   between   former   war   adversaries.   Faith   in   the   effectiveness   of  
transitional   justice   as   a   means   of   ‘normalization’   forms   the   second   narrative   of   the  
alternative  liberal  ideology  formulated  and  promoted  by  civilno  družstvo.  
  Because   of   limits   to   their   capacity,   the   civilno   družstvo   engages   predominantly   in  
small-­‐scale,   experiential   transitional   justice   initiatives.   By   narrowing   their   scale,   the  
activists  rarely  engage  directly  with  the  large  regional  and  international  instruments  that  
have   proven   to   be   problematic.   The   civilno   družstvo’s   use   of   the   concept   continues   to   be  
perceived  with  negativity  similar  to  that  generated  by  large-­‐scale  initiatives  that  failed  to  
win   over   the   majority   population,   however.   Specifically,   many   have   condemned  
transitional   justice   projects   because   their   primary   purpose   is   to   find   and   explore   weak  
spots   in   the   predominant   national   narrative,   such   as,   for   example   the   ICTY’s   focus   on  
crimes  committed  by  Serbs  on  Bosnian  Muslims  or  in  Kosovo  during  the  wars  of  the  90’s.  
Such   emphasis   attacks   the   dominant   myth   and   attempts   to   expose   its   limitations   in  
explaining  reality  of  both  the  past  and  the  present.    
  Often,   transitional   justice   as   a   concept   is   evoked   and   criticized   in   relation   the  
failures   of   the   largest   transitional   justice   body   in   the   region:   the   International   Criminal  
Tribunal  for  Former  Yugoslavia  (ICTY),  which  has  not  succeeded  in  assuming  a  position  of  
legitimacy   among   local   people.   In   both   Croatia   and   Serbia   the   involvements   of   ICTY  
provoked  a  large  protest  because  of  what  the  international  community  saw  as  a  means  to  
reconciliation  -­‐  the  attempt  to  create  a  single  narrative  of  a  single    ‘historical  truth’  of  the  
Balkan   wars   of   the   90’s   -­‐   opposed   both   the   Croatian   and   the   Serbian   versions   of   the   events  
(Pavlakovic   2010:   1716).   As   an   instrument   of   creating   history,   the   ICTY   threatened   to  
endanger  the  existing  collective  memories,  narratives  and  justifications  of  the  war,  and  by  

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association   also   the   identities   and   cognitive   frameworks   of   the   people   subscribing   to   the  
conflicting  narratives.    
  The  Serbian  national  myth  speaks  of  great  bias  of  all  Western  institutions  and  actors  
against  all  Serbs  in  the  region,  including  ICTY,  who  has,  indeed  charged  many  more  Serbian  
perpetrators   than   Croatian   ones.   Serbia   had   only   been   persuaded   to   communicate   with  
ICTY   after   the   delivery   of   a   large   development   aid   package   was   conditioned   by   the  
extradition   of   Slobodan   Milošević   to   Hague   (Grodsky   2009:700).   His   arrest   by   the  
international  court  was  followed  by  domestic  charges  of  national  treason  and  assassination  
of   the   ‘traitor’   -­‐   prime   minister   Dindic   -­‐   two   years   later   (Ristic   2012:35).   Nor   have  
subsequent   trials   with   Serbian   perpetrators   made   progress   in   challenging   the   Serbian  
national   narrative   in   the   eyes   of   Serb   citizens.   The   accused,   repetitively   portrayed   in   the  
media   as   victims   of   the   ICTY   and   Western   anti-­‐Serb   conspiracies,   are   promoted   to   the  
status   of   national   heroes   who   defend   state   interests   against   those   of   the   West.   Long,  
emotional  interviews  with  their  crying  relatives  and  friends  are  broadcasted  nation-­‐wide.  
Such   ‘accused-­‐centered-­‐reporting’,   as   Katarina   Ristic   calls   it,   focuses   primarily   on   topics  
such   as   procedural   rights,   health   and   prison   conditions   of   those   accused   (2012:36),   and  
presents   the   crimes   of   those   tried   as   ‘alleged’   euphemisms   or   accidents   (ibid).     In   2011,  
40%  of  Serbs  questioned  asserted  that  the  main  purpose  of  ICTY  is  to  “put  blame  for  war  
sufferings   on   Serbs”,   and   17%   said   ICTY   works   primarily   “to   meet   the   demand   of  
international   community”   (OSCE   2011).   Any   constructive   discussion   of   the   meaning   and  
implications   of   the   ICTY   ruling   on   Serbian   perception   of   the   past   has   thus   been  
overshadowed   by   the   ethno-­‐nationalist   cry   of   injustice   (Ristic   2012:37).   The   concept   of  
transitional   justice   thus   carries   negative   connotations   and   clearly   aggravates   the   Serbian  
perception  of  global  bias  against  Serbia  (Grodsky  2009;  Hodzic  2013;  Kasapas  2008;  Kerr  
2007;  Klarin  2009;  McDonald  2004).    
  Individuals  from  the  civilno  družstvo  in  Serbia  do,  however  adopt  the  premise  that    
the  experience  and  narratives  of  those  on  the  other  side  ought  to  be  shared  and  validated  in  
order   to   normalize   regional   relations.   To   support   such   progress,   NGOS   from   the   civilno  
družstvo  organize  smaller  transitional  justice  campaigns,  programs,  and  events  which  aim  
to   encourage   experiential   learning   through   sharing   instead   of   imposing   institutionally  
generated   truths   or   guilt   on   those   participating.   Inviting   dialogue   and   individual  

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conclusions,   these   events   aim   to   provide   space   where   the   Serbian   national   myth   can   be  
challenged  and  re-­‐negotiated.    
  A  perfect  example  of  such  efforts  and  one  of  the  most  established  programs  of  such  
kind  is  the  ‘visiting  program’  through  which  the  Youth  Initiative  for  Human  Rights  brings  
young   Serbs   to   Kosovo,   and   young   Kosovars   to   Belgrade.   “I   think   the   problem   was   that   I  
couldn’t   even   imagine   how   it   would   be   before   going..   I   had   no   idea   what   it   was   like   there.  
People   wonder   all   the   time,   is   it   dangerous?   Is   it   not?   How   does   it   look   over   there?   I   didn’t  
know,  I  didn’t  have  the  information,”  Vera,  one  of  the  program’s  Serbian  participants  says  in  
a   short   film   documenting   the   exchange   (Keča   2012),   noting   the   insecurity   and   lack   of  
information  about  what  life  looks  like  on  the  other  side  that  she  felt  before  and  that  many  
of  her  peers  still  feel.  “When  people  think  about  Kosovo  -­  and  I’m  speaking  of  my  own  friends  
and   peers   -­   they   usually   think   Kosovo   isn’t   even   on   Earth,   they   imagine   it   to   be   completely  
different,   but   it   isn’t.   Things   there   are   just   like   here   in   Serbia,”   another   participant   shares.  
Instead   of   hate,   the   visitors   remember   welcoming   curiosity,   hospitality,   and   an  
overwhelming   amount   of   parallels   to   their   own   lives   at   home,   in   Serbia.   Confident   in   the  
welcoming  nature  of  both  sides  of  the  border,  the  program  encourages  its  participants  to  
make   their   own   conclusion   about   the   truth   value   of   their   previous   bias.   “My   friends  
seriously  asked  me-­  why  do  you  go  there?  Are  you  insane?  What’s  wrong  with  you?  And  I  said,  
Guys,   it’s   just   prejudice,   you’ve   never   been   there.   Try   it,   see   for   yourself,   I   had   a   great   time.  
People  were  kind,  no  one  gave  me  weird  looks  because  I  was  from  Serbia.  We  even  got  a  free  
ride  on  the  city  bus!,”  Vera  concluded  her  interview.  The  most  striking  challenge  to  previous  
biases,  Anita  told  me,  is  the  participants’  initial  surprise  at  how  ‘normal’  Kosovo  is  and  how  
‘nice’   Albanian   people   are   in   face   of   the   wild   imaginations   outlined   and   taught   by   the  
Serbian   national   myth.   “The   participants   always   wonder   and   then   feel   ashamed   for   their  
surprise  about  how  ‘normal’  Kosovo  is.  The    daily  lives  of  the  young  people  there  are  similar  to  
ours,   they   are   studying,   they   have   problems   with   their   boyfriends,   parents,   or   roommates,   the  
same  things.  There  is  nothing  much  different,  people  are  looking  for  jobs,  ..  “  
   Many   activists   from   YIHR   have   told   me   that   the   visiting   program   was   their  
favourite.  “The  change  is  immediate,  you  always  see  people  are  a  little  nervous  when  they  get  
off  of  the  bus  on  the  other  side  for  the  first  time.  They  expect  guns  and  hate,  or  just  don’t  know  
what   to   expect   at   all.   And   then,   on   the   drive   back   home   a   couple   days   later   they   laugh,  

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remembering   the   great   night   life   and   plan   how   they   want   to   go   back   to   Kosovo   soon.   It’s  
great,   because   we   don’t   need   to   persuade   them   at   all,   we   just   take   them   to   the   other   side,”  
Ruža   told   me.   For   many,   the   subtle   changes   in   the   way   that   the   program   is   run   and   the  
small   changes   in   their   friends’   attitudes   are   the   most   visible   fruits   of   their   own   work.   Anita  
describes  such  feelings  below:  
   
“Where  I  see  changes  the  most  is  in  travelling  to  Kosovo.  First  time  when  I  went  
was  2009,  and  all  of  my  family  and  friends  were  all  acting  as  if  I  were  going  to  a  
concentration  camp  or  something.  Now  they  always  ask  me,  ‘when  are  you  going  
to  take  us  to  Prishtina?’  Now  I  really  love  that  place,  it’s  my  favourite  city  in  the  
whole  world,  I  adore  it.  Every  time  I  come  back,  no  one  understands  that  I’m  so  
full  of  everything,  and  I  see  this  change.  Now  a  lot  of  my  friends  are  coming  to  
every  event  that  YIHR  is  organizing,  and  they  don’t  question  me  going  to  
Prishtina  anymore  and  that  is  so  cool.  I  think  that  in  some  way  people  change.  
Not  only  because  of  me,  but  some  things  became  normal  to  them,  like  going  to  
Kosovo.  In  my  surroundings  it’s  normal.  It’s  not  ordinary,  but  it’s  become  normal.  
Actually,  one  of  my  friends  now  went  to  Prishtina  by  herself.  That  is  it,  we  don’t  
know  how  far  our  influence  travels.  Those  people  don’t  come  to  the  office  every  
day  or  at  all,  maybe  they  are  someone  who  saw  pictures  on  Facebook  and  
decided  to  give  it  a  try.  We  don’t  know  their  names,  but  who  knows,  maybe  we  
did  have  influence  on  them.”    
 
  Another  example  of  an  event  inspired  by  the  principles  of  transitional  justice  is  an  
annual  cultural  festival  Dani  Sarajeva  -­‐  Days  of  Sarajevo  in  Belgrade.  Year  2013  marked  a  
seventh   anniversary   of   the   festival,   opening   with   an   exhibition   of   stories   collected   in  
Sarajevo   by   Jasminka   Halilovića   titled   “Djetinjstvo   u   ratu“  -­‐   “Childhood   in   War”.   The  
cultural   festival,   also   organized   by   the   Youth   Initiative   for   Human   Rights,   brings   artists  
from  the  neighboring  Bosnia  and  Herzegovina  to  Belgrade,  and  invites  Serbian  audiences  to  
listen,  watch,  and  hear  them  perform.  Exhibitions,  talks  and  movie  screenings  often  address  
the  topic  of  war-­‐time  experience  of  the  last  decade  across  the  region.    
  Transitional   justice,   the   acknowledgment   of   Serbian   mythical   “misconceptions”  
about   the   past   and   present,   thus,   along   with   the   human   rights   framework,   inspire   counter-­‐
narratives  that  the  collective  and  members  of  civilno  družstvo  develop  in  order  to  resist  the  
dominant   Serbian   myth.   I   have   shown   that   these   alternative   narratives,   however,  
intentionally  counter  what  a  large  portion  of  the  Serbian  people  understand  as  inseparable  
from  their  own  identity  and  collective  memory.  What  pushes  the  liberal  youth  to  embrace  

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such   controversial   concepts?   The   next   section   will   introduce   the   concept   that   ties   both  
transitional   justice   and   human   rights   close   to   the   ideologes   of   the   civilno   družstvo:   the  
feeling   of   personal   and   collective   responsibility,   a   feeling   of   responsibility   to   do   things  
differently  once  the  time  comes  for  their  generation  to  rule.  
 
THE  RESPONSIBILITY  
 
“Why  do  we  do  it?  If  you  are  building  something,  and  you  don’t  make  
sure  that  the  bottom  is  stable,  then  anything  you  build  will  fall.  -­‐  Liljana  
 
What  was  most  puzzling  to  me  was  the  motivation  of  my  informants  and  other  activists  in  
face   of     the   risks   they   exposed   their   bodies   and   life   comfort   to   in   order   to   defend   their  
beliefs.   Why   would   they   willingly   subject   themselves   to   more   or   less   intensive   social  
isolation?  Why  would  they  knowingly  jeopardized  their  physical  safety  for  a  cause?  Why  do  
they   feel   the   responsibility   to   act?   The   complex   answer   to   that   question   is   personal,   and    
involves   a   discussion   of   mistrust   toward   the   state   and   other   actors,   a   mention   of   liberal  
patriotism,   and   the   feeling   of   historical   and   contemporary   responsibility   to   make   things  
better.    
  Anja,  a  young  volunteer  at  one  of  the  NGOs  from  civilno  družstvo,  wasn’t  the  only  one  
who   admitted   to   being   scared   of   repeating   the   past.   “They   [the   state]   are,   again,   moving  
ahead  without  coping.  After  second  world  war  it  was  the  same.  All  the  grievances  of  national  
groups   were  swept  under   the  carpet   without   resolution   in   Yugoslavia,   and   look   where   it   took  
us,”  she  refers  to  the  wars  of  the  90’s.  “Technically,  it’s  the  government’s  responsibility,”  Maša  
adds.   “Then   there   is   the   ICTY.   If   these   two   institutions   aren’t   effective,   then   there   is   the   media  
and  us.  First  step  is  to  push  the  media,  and  if  they  are  still  silent,  it’s  all  up  to  us.”    In  different  
ways,   all   the   activists   articulate   their   collective   and   personal   responsibility   and   desire   to  
‘deal  with  the  past’  and  make  Serbian  society  more  open  to  difference.    
  The  first  realization  of  responsibility,  many  of  my  informants  suggested,  came  with  
the  recognition  of  the  experience  of  the  other.  “I  thought  I  had  a  pretty  bad  childhood,”  Anita    
confesses.  “..but  then  I  met  a  girl  who  grew  up  in  Sarajevo,  who  was  born  during  the  Siege,  
and   I   realized,   damn,   I   had   a   wonderful   childhood   in   Belgrade.”     Such   realization   doesn’t  
come   easy   to   Serbian   youth   who,   from   early   age,   have   been   reminded   of   their   nation’s  

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suffering   and   victimhood.   Because   of   the   information   blockade   during   the   war,   nearly  
nonexistent  mobility  across  borders  within  the  region  and  promulgation  of  the  nationalist  
interpretation  of  the  past  in  the  years  after  the  war,  very  few  Serbs  have  had  a  chance  to  
speak  to  those  from  other  side  of  the  conflict,  or  hear  about  their  experiences  second  hand.    
  Anytime   I   asked   my   informants   from   Youth   Initiative   about   their   sense   of  
responsibility,  I  heard  about  a  speech  that  Maja,  the  director,  gave  at  the  opening  ceremony  
for  Days  of  Sarajevo  in  Belgrade  in  May  2013.  “Maja  said  it  like  I  feel  it,”  so  many  admitted,  
sharing  with  me  the  full  text  as  well  as  a  video  of  the  event.  “Somehow  (…)  I  have  a  need  to  
share  with  you  now  and  with  all  the  young  men  and  women  of  Sarajevo,  an  apology,  ”  Maja    
begins   (see   Figure   5   on   the   next   page   for   a   longer   excerpt).     “We   were   all   crying,   all   of   us  
there  from  the  Initiative,  and  Maja  was  also  crying  as  she  was  speaking,  it  was  such  a  strong  
experience,”  Maša  remembered,  “we  felt  like  she  said  something  we  all  kept  inside  for  long.”    
  Maja’s   speech,   considered   by   so   many   a   powerful,   honest   reflectionof   the  
responsibility  they  collectively  feel,  highlights  the  feeling  of  guilt  for  other  people’s  painful  
experiences.   More   than   feeling   of   a   direct   guilt   for   crimes   committed,   Maja   emphasizes   her  
guilt   for   the   behavior   of   her   parents   and   the   guilt   she   feels   for   her   the   silence   and  
complicity   of   her   own   generation.   She   feels   guilt   for   her   own   inaction   against   the   state  
propaganda   and   information   barricade   before   she   got   involved   in   civilno   družstvo.  
Ultimately,   however,   she   leaves   the   responsibility   for   committing   war   crimes   to   the  
perpetrators   themselves,   refusing   to   accept   collective   guilt   for   all   crimes   of   Milošević’s  
regime.  “How  do  we  say  it,  Jasmina,..?”  Maša  seeks  help  while  I  am  interviewing  her  at  the  
office,   and   Jasmina,   sitting   nearby,   promptly   responds:   “We   are   not   responsible   for   what  
happened   in   the   nineties,   we   didn’t   ask   for   it,   we   were   children.   But   we   are   responsible   for  
challenging   the   hate   that   remains,   we   are   responsible   for   making   sure   nothing   of   this   sort  
ever  again  happens  in  this  region.  We  are  responsible  for  the  future.  That’s  what  we  usually  
say,  or  something  like  it.  That’s  how  I  feel  anyway.”  Maša  emphasizes  that  these  feelings  are  
very   personal.   “For   us   it   is   always   personal,   every   time.   It’s   not   only   because   now   we   know  
someone  who  went  through  the  worse  end  of  the  war,  it’s  simply  human  to  empathize.”  She  is  
shaky   on   the   explanation.   ”I’m   not   sure   I   could   even   explain   this   in   Serbian,”     Maša  
apologizes.   I   comfort   her,   and   she   keeps   reflecting,   “I   think   even   if   Jasmina   were   a   journalist  
in   Prishtina,   if   Ivan   was   a   politician,   if   Marko   was   just   a   lawyer   dealing   with   business,   we  

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would   all   feel   the   same   way   as   we   do   now,”   she   tries   to   explain   again   how   ingrained   and  
personal  she  feels  the  responsibility  to  be.    
 
Figure  5    

Excerpt  from  a  speech  delivered  by  Maja  Micic,  director  of  Youth  Initiative  for  Human  Rights  at  the  opening  
ceremony  of  the  7th    “Days  of  Sarajevo”  in  Belgrade,  May  2013.      

 
“Nekako  (…)  imam  potrebu  da  sada  podelim  sa   “Somehow  (…)  I  have  a  need  to  share  with  you  
vama  i  posebno  uputim  mladim  Sarajlijama  i   now  and  with  all  the  young  men  and  women  of  
Sarajkama,  možda  inspirisana  ovom  izložbom  a   Sarajevo,  an  apology,  perhaps  inspired  by  
to  je  jedno  izvinjenje.   today’s  exhibition:    
 
Jedno  izvinjenje  za  detinjstvo  i  godine  koje  su   An  apology  for  childhood  and  the  years  that  
vam  ukradene,  izvinjenje  za  strah,  za  gubitke,   were  stolen  from  you,  an  apology  for  the  fear    
izvinjenje  za  strah  od  granata  i  od  snajpera,   of  bomb  shells  and  snipers,  an  apology  for  the  
izvinjenje  za  to  što  vam  je  osećanje  spoznaje  prve   fact  that  along  with  your  first  loves  and  flirts  
simpatije  bilo  sklupčano  sa  osećanjem  gubitka   you  had  to  cope  with  your  first  losses  and  
iste  jako  često.  Takođe  imam  razloga  da  se   deaths.  I  also  have  a  reason  to  apologize  for  the  
izvinim  zbog  izbora  koje  su  pravili  moji  roditelji,   choices  that  my  parents,  their  friends,  my  
prijatelji  mojih  roditelja,  moji  rođaci.  Takođe  da   relatives  made.  I’m  sorry  that  their  voices  were  
se  izvinim  zbog  toga  što  nisu  bili  dovoljno  glasni   not  loud  enough  when  they  should  have  been  to  
onda  kada  je  trebalo  da  podignu  svoj  glas  i  da   disagree  with  what  was  happening  in  their  
iskažu  svoj  bunt  zbog  onoga  što  se  dešavalo  u   name  in  Sarajevo.  And  I  also  apologize  for  us  
Sarajevu.  Izvinjavam  se  i  zbog  nas  koji  smo   who  were  born  in  the  late  seventies,  for  the  
rođeni  kasnih  sedamdesetih,  i  tokom  osamdesetih   time  it  took  us  to  lift  our  heads  away  from  the  
jer  smo  možda  prekasno  izvukli  glave  iz   textbooks  they  served  us,  and  look  for  
udžbenika  koji  su  nam  servirani,  i  rešili  da  više  ne   information  different  than  what  our  media  
prihvatamo  samo  informacije  koje  su  nam  mediji   served  us  on  a  silver  platter.  Realizing  too  late  
servirali  na  tanjiru,  i  možda  prekasno  postali   that  we  were  too  easy  of  a  prey  for  the  
glasni  i  zahtevali  priznanje  i  odgovornost  za  ono   textbooks  and  broadcasts,  I  apologize  that  we  
što  se  četiri  godine  dešavalo  u  Sarajevu.   were  too  late  to  admit  to  ourselves  the  
responsibility  for  what  was  happening  those  
Jako  mi  je  važno  da  ovo  izvinjenje  koje  pre  svega   four  years  in  Sarajevo.“    
predstavlja  moj  lični  čin  ne  ostane  samo  nešto  što    
ću  ja  reći  izreći  ovde  na  otvaranju  Dana  Sarajeva   Somehow  it  is  really  important  to  me  that  this  
u  okviru  svog  govora.  Mislim  da  iz  toga  proističe   apology,  my  personal  action,  doesn’t  remain  
da  je  imperativ  za  sve  nas  ovde  prisutne  kao  i  za   just  something  I  say  at  the  occasion  of  opening  
one  generacije  koje  dolaze  nakon  nas,  pre  svega   the  Days  of  Sarajevo  as  a  part  of  this  speech.      
da  se  borimo  da  taj  lični  čin  i  lični  čin  mnogih   I  think  there  is  an  imperative  for  all  of  us  who  
hrabrih  ljudi  koji  su  se  na  ovaj  način  odupirali   gathered  here  today  that  despite  everything,  we  
onome  što  se  dešavalo  devedesetih,  postane   try  to  make  this  action,  this  awareness,  what  
generacijski  čin  moje  generacije,  ali  i  onih   defines  our  generation,  and  the  generations  
generacija  koje  dolaze  nakon  mene.  Da  to   after  us.  That  it  becomes  an  institutionalized  
postane  institucionalni  stav  i  da  to  postane  stav   characteristics  of  the  Serbian  state.“
države  Srbije.”    

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   A   few   minutes   after   we   finish   the   interview,   Maša   looks   up   from   her   computer   with  
a   final   answer   to   why   she   believes   dealing   with   the   past   is   absolutely   indispensable   for   the  
region’s  future,  and  why  she  needs  to  be  personally  involved.  “You  know,  I  constantly  have  
somewhere  deep  inside  that  tiny  fear  that  something  like  this  could  happen  again.  Whether  
it’s  World  War  Three,  anything,  that  is  why  we  are  cleaning  up  the  mess.  Or  even  just  because  
we  see  someone  go  to  Zagreb  [capital  of  Croatia]  who  has  a  bad  experience  there.  That  is  why  
we   are   doing   all   of   this,   we   are   cleaning   up   a   mess.   I’m   not   sure   we   could   really   fight   another  
war,   but   then   again   -­   any   kind   of   conflict   is   possible   when   you   have   a   region   like   ours,   people  
who  are  so  fragile.  Our  families  have  been  in  wars  for  generations,  we’ve  been  involved  here  
for  too  long.  It’s  the  same  with  a  family  fight.  You  need  to  talk  about  it,  because  otherwise  you  
are  going  to  have  another  argument  in  five  minutes.”  Most  of  my  informants,  while  sharing  
Maša’s  hardship  with  verbalizing  their  motivations,  share  her  reasoning.  The  responsibility  
to   act   comes   from   an   inner   discomfort   with   the   continued   insecurity   prevailing   in   the  
region   and   in   the   state.   Encouraged   by   the   urge   to   act,   the   civilno   družstvo   then   utilizes   the  
two  available  narratives,  human  rights  and  transitional  justice,  to  show  a  direction  in  which  
they  wish  to  proceed.  
 
THE  ACTORS  WITHIN  CIVILNO  DRUŽSTVO  
 
During   my   two   month   stay   in   Belgrade   I   met   individuals   from   almost   a   dozen   non   profit  
organizations   fighting   for   human   rights   and   transitional   justice   at   various   levels.   These  
organizations   and   individuals   form   the   civilno   družstvo,   and   together   support   each   other   in  
defying  and  actively  opposing  the  Serbian  national(ist)  myth  with  newly  devised  narratives  
based   on   the   concepts   and   motivations   outlined   above.   On   the   next   few   pages   I   will  
introduce   some   of   the   organizations   I   came   into   contact   with   in   order   to   provide   clear  
contours  to  the  upcoming  discussion  of  their  resistance  practices:  
    On   the   steep   downhill   street   of   Kneza   Miloša,   right   around   the   corner   from  
president   Nikolić’s   headquarters,   one   can   find   the   residency   of   Kuča   Ljudskih   Prava,   The  
Belgrade   House   of   Human   Rights.   The   five-­‐store   building   addresses   passers-­‐by   through   a  
window-­‐side  gallery  on  the  1st  floor  and  a  sign  referencing  a  quintet  of  human  rights  non  
profits  on  the  floors  above.  The  Helsinki  Committee  for  Human  Rights  in  Serbia  neighbors  
YUCOM   Komitet   Pravnika   za   za  Zaštitu   Ljudskih   Prava,   The   Committee   of   Lawyers   for  
Protection  of  Human  Rights.  Next  door,  one  can  find  the  Belgrade  Center  of  Human  Rights  
as   well   as   Građanske   Inicijative,   Citizen   Initiatives   and   Centar   za   praktičnu   politiku,   the  
Center  for  Practical  Politics.    
  Up   the   hill   from   the   “House   of   Human   Rights”,   behind   the   Serbian   National  
Assembly,   hides   the   Serbian   field   office   of   Civil   Rights   Defenders.   Serving   primarily   as   a  
professional   watchdog   organization,   Civil   Rights   Defenders   use   legal   methods   and  
advocacy   to   inform   the   public   and   provide   support   and   human   rights   training   to   young  
lawyers,   journalists,   youth   from   political   parties,   as   well   as   to   activists   from   other   non-­‐
governmental  organizations.      
  In  a  run  down  street  downhill  from  the  busy  public  transport  center  Zeleni  Venac,  I  
was  once  looking  for  the  office  of  Women  in  Black,  a  pacifist,  feminist  organization  with  a  
particularly  strong  presence  in  the  Balkans.  “Došla  sam,  koj  ima  broj?,”  I  called,  asking  for  
the  entrance  number,  because,  out  of  security  reasons,  the  Women  in  Black  office  doesn’t  
have   any   signs   on   the   street,   or   specific   street   number   mentioned   online.   The   women,  
young   and   old,   call   out   war   crimes   and   organize   public   commemoration   performances  
using  artifacts  that  remind  the  passer-­‐by  of  the  past.  Their  collective  grievance  is  the  lack  of  
Serbian   solidarity   and   refusal   to   acknowledge   responsibility   for   the   suffering   of   others  
during  the  recent  Balkan  wars.  It  was  Woman  in  Black  who  later  in  the  summer  took  me  on  
one  of  their  many  trips  to  commemoration  sites  all  across  the  Balkans,  where  they  share  in  
solidarity  the  memory  of  recent  massacres  with  the  families  of  the  victims.    
  The  office  of  Humanitarian  Law  Center  is  located  on  a  street  behind  a  monumental    
classist   square   with   a   statue   tribute   to   Nikola   Pašić,   a   prominent   19th   century   politician  
who,  in  Serbia,  is  called  the  “father  of  the  great  South  Slav  state”.  The  Center  is  perhaps  one  
of  the  NGOs  in  Belgrade  most  focused  on  transitional  justice.  Documenting  past  atrocities  
and   working   on   judicial   and   institutional   practice   in   Serbia,   the   NGO   also   offers   yearly  
Schools   of   Transitional   Justice   for   young   professionals   and   students   interested   in   legal  
justice  and  reconciliation.    
  Besides  the  organizations  for  whom  human  rights  and  transitional  justice  form  the  
cornerstones   of   programming,     Belgrade   civilno   družstvo   hosts   a   multitude   of   non-­‐profits  
who     focus   primarily   on   youth   and   youth   issues   (such   as   youth   violence,   employment,  
gender   discrimination).   Even   these   organizations,   however,   touch   on   human   rights   and  

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transitional  justice.  One  of  the  most  prominent  youth  NGOs  of  this  kind  is  Centar  E8.  With  
headquarters   close   to   the   Belgrade   train   station,   their   work   is   felt   all   throughout   Serbia.  
Alexandra,  whom  I  met  during  my  visit  to  the  NGO,  showed  me  videos  about    programs    re-­‐
defining   the   typical   Serbian   idea   of   masculinity   among   the   youth,   and   brochures   about  
programs   centering   about   health   and   life   style   education,   gender   equality,   anti-­‐
discrimination  work,  and  violence  prevention.  In  cooperation  with  similar  NGOs  abroad,  E8  
hosts   regional   camps   for   youth   from   all   around   the   Balkans.   A   by-­‐product   of   the   youth-­‐
focused   education,   the   connections   the   young   boys   and   girls   make   during   their   summer  
vacations  form  the  basis  for  change  in  ethnic  relations  across  the  region.    
 
THE  YOUTH  INITIATIVE  FOR  HUMAN  RIGHTS  (YIHR)        
A   large   portion   of   the   ethnography   in   this   chapter   comes   from   my   interaction   and  
association  with  the  Youth  Initiative  for  Human  Rights.  After  getting  to  know  the  NGO  and  
the   people   in   it,   I   recognized   that   I   couldn’t   have   been   luckier.   The   decade   old   organization  
(founded  in  2003)  is  with  no  doubt  one  of  the  most  active  youth  NGOs,  and  as  such,  I  ought  
to   showcase   it   in   more   detail.   The   following   description   of   my   first   few   days   at   YIHR  
reflects  the  NGO’s  commitment  to  challenging  the  prevalent  Serbian  narratives,  as  well  as  
the  atmosphere  within  the  collective.      
—-­‐  
 
A   group   of   about   six   jumped   out   at   me   from   an   old   black   car   that   stopped   in   front   of   Youth  
Initiative’s  office  close  to  Despota  Stefana,  the  main  traffic  vein  of  Belgrade’s  city  center.  I  
was  suddenly  surrounded  by  a  stream  of  warm  energy  and  people  to  greet.  All  young,,  all  in  
casual,   colorful   clothes.   After   I   greeted   everyone   in   Serbian,   they   switched   to   English  
naturally,   everyone   more   or   less   fluent,   eloquent.   As   we   walked   up   the   three   flights   of  
spiral   staircase   through   the   old   apartment   building,   plenty   of   laughter   echoed   from   the  
surprisingly  cold,  dark  stone  walls.  I  stepped  inside  the  office  with  bright  lime-­‐green  walls  
for  the  first  time  and  followed  the  crowd  to  a  tiny  balcony  overlooking  the  inner  yard  of  the  
building.   “Welcome   to   Youth   Initiative!,”   they   smiled,   lit   their   cigarettes,   and   the   planning  
chatter  began.      

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   Later   that   afternoon   I   was   trying   to   memorize   the   names   of   Maša,   Anita,   Ivan,  
Jasmina,   Marko,   Muta   and   Bojan,   when   a   group   of   fourteen   students   from   the   New   York  
University’s   summer   program   arrived   at   the   office.   Scattered   around   red   beanbags   in   what  
used   to   be   a   living   room   in   the   apartment,   they   sipped   cool   water   and   explored  
bookshelves  lined  with  promotion  materials  and  project  reports.  On  the  wall  behind  them  
an   enormous   calendar   grid   was   drawn,   filled   to   the   last   spot   with   meetings,   conferences,  
and   events   that   the   group   planned   to   host   over   the   summer.     While   we   were   finishing   a  
juicy  watermelon  on  the  kitchen  counter,  Jasmina  shepherded  the  American  students  into  
the  director’s  office  for  a  presentation  about  the  NGO,  and  I  slipped  in  to  listen.  
  Anita   and   Jasmina   sat   down   in   front   of   a   large,   framed   map   titled   “The   fall   of  
Yugoslavia”.  “When  we  introduce  YIHR  programming  we  first  need  to  give  a  history  lecture  so  
that   the   programming   makes   sense   to   the   guests,”   Jasmina   told   me   earlier,   and   I  
remembered  as  she  pointed  to  the  map,  giving  a  basic  overview  of  the  past  twenty  years  in  
the  region.  Anita  explained  why  local  students’  opportunities  to  learn  about  the  recent  past  
are   limited.   The   topics   receive   little   attention   in   the   national   curriculum   or   in   higher  
education.   “The   only   support   and   budget   to   cover   these   issues   in   the   education   of   youth   is  
coming  from  abroad,”  she  said,  “even  though  we’ve  been  trying  to  get  the  state  involved  for  
years”.   It   began   when   in   2003   a   high   school   student   from   Prokopje   (close   to   Kosovo  
border)   came   up   with   the   idea   that   Serbs   and   Kosovar   Albanians   need   to   create  
connections   among   each   other   to   debunk   prejudice,   they   tell   the   story   of   the   founding   of  
their  organization.    
  As  days  passed,  I  learned  more  about  who  the  youth  activists  within  YIHR  are,  and  
how  they  work  together.  The  office  comes  to  life  every  morning  with  the  bubbly  noises  of  
coffee  machine  on  the  kitchen  counter.  “Ko  hoće  kafu?,”  Maša  yells  loudly,  asking  who  wants  
a  cup  of  coffee.  The  same  ritual  repeats  around  noon  when  a  stormy  debate  about  where  to  
get   lunch   from,   and   the   occasional   brainstorming   meetings   bring   everyone   around   the  
kitchen  table.  In  order  to  implement  their  projects,  the  Youth  Initiative  employs  around  a  
dozen   activists,   administrators,   and   program   directors,   and   engages   more   than   twenty  
young     volunteers.   The   position   titles,   however,   aren’t   sorted   across   a   scale   of   hierarchy.  
“My  role  here  at  YIHR  has  always  morphed  from  one  thing  to  another,”  explains  Muta,  who  is  
currently   in   charge   of   budgeting.   “Sometimes   what   I   do   depends   on   the   needs   of   the  

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organization,  and  sometimes  I  decide  that  I  would  like  to  do  or  learn  something,  and  I  can,”  he  
smiles,  settling  behind  his  desk  as  he  starts  his  morning..  The  people  within  Youth  Initiative  
range  from  eighteen  year  olds  who  just  enrolled  in  the  political  science  faculty  and  those  
who  study  Albanian,  perhaps  the  most  unpopular  university  major  in  Serbia,  to  the  thirty  
years   old,   seasoned   activists.   While   Mirko,   a   young   volunteer,   is   the   one   who   gets  
preference  in  a  trip  to  the  remains  of  Trnopolje  prisoner  camp  or  to  the  commemoration  
ceremony  in  Srebrenica  where  he  has  never  visited  before,    Maja,  the  office  director,  is  the  
one   who   speaks   at   conferences   or   live   on   television.   They   come   from   South,   North,   or   from  
Belgrade.   Their   family   backgrounds   couldn’t   be   more   different.   While   Alexandar’s   father  
buys   air   fresheners   with   a   portrait   of   Milošević   and   s   Serbian   flag,   Maša’s   mother   isn’t  
surprised  when  her  daughter  decides  to  prolong  her  trip  to  Sarajevo  (Figure  6).    
 

 
Figure  6    

-­  “Ivan  and  I  are  staying  in  Sarajevo  until  tomorrow”  

 -­“Ok,  why  am  I  not  surprised?”.    
 
  The   buzzer   rings   as   people   come   and   go,   and   the   central   office   space   always  
accommodates   a   couple   visitors   -­‐   friends   from   other   organizations,   current   volunteers,  
future  volunteers.  An  enormous  emphasis  is  placed  on  the  wellbeing  and  learning  of  those  
who  have  just  recently  come  to  the  organization  as  volunteers  or  collaborators.  “They  are  

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our   babies.   We   know   that   there   are   a   lot   of   things   we   wouldn’t   be   able   to   do   without   our  
volunteer  activists.  Activists  -­  they  are  like  our  directors,  so  important  to  what  we  do.  We  were  
all   activists   volunteers   once,   we   all   go   through   the   same   cycle,”   Maša   said,   explaining   that  
there  is  very  little  established  chain  of  command,  and  a  strong  emphasis  on  learning.    “I  felt  
like  Youth  Initiative  was  the  first  place  where  people  listened  to  me,  really  listened,  and  took  
the   time   to   educate   me,”   Anita   shared   later   during   our   interview,   when   I   asked   about  
volunteering.  Luka  shared  with  me  a  similar  experience.  “The  very  first  time  I  came  to  the  
office  I  was  really  nervous.  You  don’t  know  what  to  say,  I  didn’t  know  if  they  will  give  me  a  
test,  if  they  will  ask  me  something  I  don’t  know.  But  it  was  just  young  people  and  I  felt  as  if  we  
knew  each  other  for  a  long  time,”  he  recalled  a  memory  of  his  first  visit  to  Youth  Initiative  
for  Human  Rights.  “We  know  that  the  most  important  thing  is  for  the  activists  to  feel  safe,  to  
feel   like   home,   good,   not   to   feel   exploited   or   used   from   the   organization.   Activists   do   not   have  
a   salary.   They   are   just   motivated   by   their   believes   I   suppose,   you   need   to   respect   them,   and   to  
keep   them   involved,“   Maša   added,   explaining   that   without   the   help   of   volunteers,   Youth  
Initiative  couldn’t  do  the  work  that  it  is  currently  engaged  in.    
  When   I   asked   my   YIHR   informants   about   their   experience   in   the   NGO,   both   those  
who  entered  YIHR  recently  and  those  who  spent  years  working  with(in)  the  group  agreed  
that  the  organization  means  much  more  than  workplace  to  them.  “People  change,  but  you  
still   feel   that   everyone   is   on   the   same   side.   You   all   know   why   you   are   there.   And   we   may  
disagree,   but   in   the   end,   after   working   for   twenty   hours,   we   will   go   for   a   beer.   No   one   else  
understands   how   hard   this   work   is,”   Anita   remarks.   The   group,   isolated   by   their   political  
choices,   engages   in   self-­‐sustaining   rituals,   in   resistance   to   the   majority   whom   they   are  
trying  to  influence.  Many  of  my  informants  from  the  Youth  Initiative  called  the  collective  “a  
family”,   evoking   a   sense   of   safety   and   collective   growth   reinforced   by   their   struggle   to  
challenge  the  dominant  narratives  surrounding  their  office.  The  next  few  pages  will  outline  
the  manners  in  which  the  dominant  narratives  are  challenged  by  these  and  by  other  liberal  
youth  activists  in  Serbia.  I  will  also  show  that  their  resistance  takes  on  ritual  characteristics  
which  increase  the  events’  effect  on  both  the  activists  themselves  and  the  public.    
 
 
 

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FORMS  OF  RESISTANCE  
 
  I   will   categorize   the   resistance   of   civilno   družstvo   in   Belgrade   along   two   separate  
lines,   which   -­‐   though   occassionally   happening   at   once   -­‐   are   inherently   different   in   their  
purpose.   The   external   resistance   in   one   way   or   other   aims   to   spread   the   alternative  
narratives   to   a   wider   Serbian   audience   and   to   fulfill   goals   set   up   in   each   organization’s  
mission.  The  internal  resistance,  on  the  other  hand,    serves  to  sustain  the  civilno  družstvo  
and   its   alternative   narratives   in   the   inhospitable   context.   These   internal   sustenance  
activities   aim   at   solidification   of   the   collective,   induction   and   education   of   new   or   potential  
members.  Acts  of  organizational  and  individual  self-­‐care  should  be  recognized  as  the  most  
fundamental  acts  of  resistance  to  the  envirnoment  one  is  not  welcome  in.  It  is  the  double-­‐
sided   nature   of   the   civilno   družstvo   ’s   efforts   which   simultaneously   sustains   and  
promulgates   their   mission.     A   single   event   can   serve   both   the   external   and   internal  
purposes,   as   it   is   usual   for   the     planning   and   execution   of   an   exetrnal   resistance   event   to  
serve   as   a   powerful   internal   experience   Both   kinds   of   resistance   are   powerful,   effective  
practices,  perhaps  because  they  carry  characteristics  of  rituals,  events  organized  by  human  
societies   as   affairs   of   special   cultural   significance   often   conductive   to   group   bodning   or  
shifting  of  social  roles.    
  Both  external  action  and  internal  sustenance  events  within  the  civilno  družstvo  can  
be  recognized  as  forms  of  political  and  social  ritual.  Victor  Turner  (1969)  who,  along  with  
Clifford   Geertz,   represents   the   symbolic   and   interpretive   anthropological   thought,   first  
described   society   as   process   of   constant   recreation   and   transformation   rather   than   a   static  
abstract  system  of  structures.  The  ritual  process,  then,  organizes,  gives,  and  later  sustains  
meaning  within  the  chaotic  system  through  repetition  and  establishment  of  unquestionable  
routine.   Observing   the   social   behavior   of   the   Ndembu   in   Zambia,   Turner   ,   acknowledged  
ritual  only  as  a  means  of  organizing  religious  and  spiritual  culture.  Recognizing  elements  of  
ritual   in   secular   events,   however,   Barbara   G.   Myerhoff   (1977)   engaged   the   previous  
writings  of  Turner,  Durkheim  as  well  as  Malinowski  to  establish  secular  ritual  as  a  parallel  
mechanism   to   that   of   a   religious   ritual.   Testing   theories   of   ritual   in   secular   contexts,   she  
contended   that   any   aspect   of   cultural   life   could   be   subjected   to   ritualization,   and   that  
secular   ceremony   retained   the   same   sacred   unquestionability   and   function   of   a   religious  

  94  
ritual.  „Ceremony  and  ritual  are  used  in  the  secular  affairs  of  modern  life  to  lend  authority  
and  legitimacy  to  the  positions  of  particular  persons,  organizations,  moral  values,  view  of  
the   world,   and   the   like,“   Myerhoff   contends.   „In   these   matters,   ritual   and   ceremony   are  
employed  to  structure  and  present  particular  interpretations  of  social  reality  in  a  way  that  
endows  them  with  legitimacy.  Ritual  ...  also  can  be  constructed  as  an  attempt  to  structure  
the   way   people   think   about   social   life“   (1977:3-­‐4)   It   is   thus   primarily   her   legacy   which  
allows   us   to   analyze   political   and   social   practice   of   challenging   existing   national(ist)  
narratives  through  the  lens  of  ritual.    
  The   external   resistance   forms   the   primary   task   and   raison   d'être   for   the   civilno  
družstvo.   The   activists   of   civilno   družstvo   organize   events   that   aim   to   encourage   Serbian  
public   to   question   the   established   national(ist)   narratives,   and   introduce   to   them   the  
alternative  frameworks  of  thinking  about  Serbian  past  and  Serbian  identity  in  line  with  the  
motives   of   human   rights,   transitional   justice,   and   responsibility.     Mission   statements   of  
these  NGOs  often  reflect  the  importance  of  external  resistance  (see  below,  emphasis  added):  
 
   
 
 

„The   Youth   Initiative   was   formed   by   young   Figure   7   Mission   Statements   by   four   of   civilno  
people   from   these   countries   in   order   to   družstvo’s   organizations   which   emphasize   external  
action  
enhance   youth   participation   in   the  
democratization   of   the   society   and   „The   principal   goals   of   the   Belgrade   Centre  
empowerment  of  the  rule  of  law  through  the   for   Human   Rights   are   advancement   of  
process   of   facing   the   past   and   establishing   knowledge   in   the   field   of   human   rights   and  
new,   progressive   connections   in   the   post-­‐ humanitarian   law,   development   of  
conflict   region   of   former   Yugoslavia.”   democracy,   strengthening   of   the   rule   of   law  
(YIHR.org)   and   the   civil   society   in   Serbia   and   other  
  countries  in  transition  from  authoritarianism  
  to   democracy.   In   the   ten   years   of   its   existence  
„The   Humanitarian   Law   Center   supports   the   Centre   has   endeavored   to   raise   the  
post-­Yugoslav  societies  in  the  promotion  of   consciousness   of   the   citizens   on   the  
the  rule  of  law  and  acceptance  of  the  legacy  of   importance   and   dimensions   of   the   idea   of  
mass   human   rights   violations,   and   therefore   human  rights  and  individual  freedoms  and  to  
in   establishing   the   criminal   responsibility   of   establish   a   favourable   climate   for   their   full  
the   perpetrators,   serving   justice,   and   respect  and  enjoyment.”  (BGCentar.org)  
preventing  recurrence.“  (HLC-­‐RDC.org)    
   
 
 
 
 
 

  95  
   The   external   actions   of   the   civilno   družstvo   in   Belgrade   can   be   classified   along   two  
dimensions:   means   of   resistance,   and   target   population.   Means   of   action   can   include  
peaceful  protests  and  other  public  performance,  guerilla  actions,  online  activism,  and  legal  
and   administrative   actions   aimed   at   promoting   the   liberal   narratives   and   shaping   the  
ideological   frameworks   of   the   audience.   These   means   are   used   selectively   to   target   specific    
sectors  of  the  Serbian  public  space:  the  general  public,  the  political  elites,  or  the  nationalist  
opposition.   The   Women   in   Black,   for   example,   regularly   stage   peaceful   protests   in   the   form  
of   public   commemorations   in   the   city   center,   attempting   to   normalize   the   sight   of   suffering  
of   the   national   enemies   for   the   passers-­‐by.   The   Humanitarian   Law   Center,   on   the   other  
hand,   targets   almost   exclusively   those   in   the   sphere   of   political   administration.   Through  
repetitive   legal   action   and   careful   monitoring   and   open   criticism   of   the   government’s  
behavior,  they  target  policymakers  and  push  for  policy  reforms.  The  Youth  Initiative,  quite  
uniquely,  engages  on  all  four  levels  of  the  external  action.  “What  I  like  about  Youth  Initiative  
is  that  it  is  a  great  combination  of  activism  and  a  professional  NGO  work.  You  are  doing  the  
street   actions,   but   you   also   have   an   institution   which   will   support   you   in   serious   projects,”  
Anita  recognizes  the  balance  that  her  organization  strikes.      
  The   external   resistance   thus   takes   the   form   of   public   protest,   public   performance,  
public   lectures   and   talks,   visual   and   textual   exhibitions,   social   media   activity,   or   more  
targeted   legal   and   professional   actions.   The   reason   why   such   activities   are   powerful   and  
capable  to  challenge  one’s  worldview  lies  in    the  ritualistic  nature  of  the  external  resistance  
actions.   While   Durkheim   (1912)   saw   ritual   as   a   ceremony   celebrating   and   reinforcing   an  
existing  tradition  through  repetition  and  recreation,  Myerhoff  asserts  that  collective  ritual  
can   „traditionaliza   new   material   as   well   as   perpetuate   old   traditions“   (1977:7).   It   is   exactly  
the  traditionalization  of  new  material  that  the  civilno  družstvo  organizations  aim  at  when  
executing  their  external  actions.  Because  I  am  most  familiar  with  the  programming  of  YIHR,  
I  will  use  the  Youth  Initiative  to  outline  the  examples  of  resistance  I  experienced  or  learned  
about  in  the  field,  and  show  how  their  format  yields  power  to  traditionalize  new  narratives.    
  25th   March   2010,   the   activists   from   Youth   Initiative   for   Human   Rights   rolled   out   a  
red   carpet   on   the   main   pedestrian   vein   of   Belgrade’s   city   center,   Knez   Mihailova,   right   next  
to  the  entrance  to  Belgrade’s  Philosophy  faculty.  The  busy  boulevard,  lined  with  cafés,    
    
 
Figure  8    “Through  Batajnica  to  the  EU”  public  action  of  the  Youth  Initiative  for  Human  Rights,  Belgrade                        
                  (YIHR  Archive)  

 
street   musicians,   and   occasional   beggars,   is   one   of   the   public   spaces   most   often   used   for  
street  acts  of  any  kind,  including  peaceful  protest  and  political  performances.  At  one  end  of  
the   carpet,   a   big   sign   read   “BELGRADE”,   and   on   the   other   end,   a   similar   sign   stated  
“EUROPEAN   UNION”.   In   the   middle   of   the   carpet,   a   third   location   was   marked   with   the  
word   “BATAJNICA”   ,   a   name   of   a   municipality   eleven   kilometers   from   the   country’s   capital,  
where   just   recently   mass   graves   of   Kosovar   Albanian   bodies   were   found.   The   action,   a  
symbolic  commemoration  of  crimes  committed  by  Serbian  forces  in  Kosovo  in  March  1999,  
was   attempting   to   explain   that   the   only   way   to   European   integration   is   through   dealing  
with  Serbia’s  unspoken  past  and  revision  of  the  national(ist)  narrative  of  victimhood.  Not  
only   are   Serbian   war   crimes   unknown   to   the   public,   but   the   relationship   of   transitional  
justice  and  the  European  Union  accession  process  isn’t  publically  understood  or  approved.  
The   West   has   conditioned   Serbia’s   accession   talks   with   transitional   justice   initiatives,  

  97  
which,  however,  are  understood  by  both  Serbian  elites  and  public  as  a  necessary  evil.  The  
sight  left  many  passers-­‐by  in  disbelief.  “Some  of  the  passers-­‐by  we  talked  to  watched  us  in  
wonder  when  we  mentioned  mass  graves  in  Batajnica.  ”,  activist  Ilja  told  me.        
  The  action,  repetitively  inviting  random  individuals  from  the  public  on  a  walk  on  the  
red   carpet   path   from   Belgrade   to   the   EU   under   the   guidance   of   the   activists,   included  
numerous   aspects   from   Myerhoff’s   definition   of   a   ritual   (1997:7).   The   activists  
orchestrating  the  event  were  acting  in  a  planned  manner,  guiding  the  participants  through  
the  temporarily  altered,  stylized  surroundings.  Within  the  liminal  space  of  the  red  carpet,  
new   realities   and   meanings   were   revealed   to   the   individuals   participating,   in   a   particular  
order   of   proceedings.   The   vivid   colors   of   the   organizers’   clothing   and   carpet   as   well   as  
other  props  intended  to  invoke  a  sensation  and  interest  in  those  walking  nearby,  the  action  
was   also   arranged   with   a   particular   intention   in   mind   –   that   is,   providing   an   alternative  
narrative  to  the  national(ist)  version  of  the  past,  inciting  curiosity,  and  promoting  a  culture  
of   free   speech   relating   to   some   of   the   most   controversial   issues   in   the   Serbian   public  
sphere.    
—-­‐  
 
  Simiarly  to  the  carpet  action,  Women  in  Black,  the  feminist  and  pacifist  organization  
with   long   history   of   anti-­‐State   activism   in   Serbia,   often   organize   street   events   in   the   city  
center  in  order  to  raise  awareness  of  war  crimes  committed  during  the  war.  Women  in  Blac  
are  particularly  known  for  their  street  performances  and  silent  public  protests.    
The  women  organize  public  commemoration  performances  using  artifacts  that  remind  the  
passer-­‐by   of   the   past   such   as   posters   saying   “Nezaboravimo”   (“We   will   not   forget”)   and  
“Priznajem”   (“We   admit”).   Their   actions   try   to   counter   and   question   the   lack   of   Serbian  
solidarity  and  refusal  to  acknowledge  responsibility  for  the  suffering  of  others  during  the  
recent   Balkan   wars.   The   women,   all   dressed   in   black   often   hold   their   slogans   in   a   semi-­‐
circle   or   a   line,   establishing   an   unusual   space   of   remembering   which   the   audience   has   to  
pass  by  or  pass  through.  Because  of  the  sharp  and  controversial  slogans,  it  is  very  hard  to  
walk   by   the   performance   without   engaging   or   noticing   the   unusual,   carefully   executed  
event.    
 

  98  
  
Figure  9    
 
 
Women  in  Black  during  one  of  their    
public  performance/protest  actions    
in  the  city  center  of  Belgrade    
 
(Archive  of  Women  in  Black)  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  Such   event,   while   primarily   focused   on   external   purposes,   however,   serves   also   a  
strong  internal  function.  In  this  particular  case  the  ritual  nature  of  the  event  is  even  more  
pronounced   for   those   performing   than   for   those   observing   from   the   outside.     The   use   of  
posters   works   to   simplify   the   group’s   ideology   and   introduce   it   in   a   concise,   memorable  
manner.  Standing  in  common  silence,  the  slogans  present  the  group’s  voices  as  unified.  By  
holding  up  the  slogans,  the  participating  activists  declare  themselves  publicly  as  supporters  
of   these   controversial   worldviews,   face   in   face   with   the   largely   rejecting   passers-­‐by.  
Holding   the   large   posters   up,   one   also   comprehends   the   need   to   stand   up   ‘together’   -­‐   for  
one   individual   could   hardly   hold   the   slogan   on   their   own.   Through   participation,   the  
activists   become   ‘part   of   the   cause’,   and   experience   the   (at   times   scary)   stares   or   even  
curses   of   those   passing   by   who   disagree,   holding   onto   the   national(ist)   narratives.   In   a  
direct   confrontation,   one   is   forced   to   take   a   side   -­‐   either   to   hold   up   the   banner   and   literally  
‘carry’  the  alternative  narrative  with  their  body,  or  to  pass  by,  holding  onto  or  refusing  to  
question  the  national  narratives  prevalent  in  the  public  space.    Participation  in  such  events  
thus   solidifies   the   activists’   own   loyalty   to   the   alternative   ideology.   I   will   focus   on   the  
sustenance   practices   of   the   civilno   družstvo   in   more   detail   in   the   very   last   chapter   of   this  
thesis.  
—-­‐  

  99  
   Targeting  audiences  removed  from  public  space  other  than  pedestrians  has  proven  
more  complicated,  however.    Many  of  the  civilno  družstvo’s  campaigns  target  children  and  
youth,  those  who  have  been  exposed  to  the  state’s  narratives  as  little  as  possible  and  have  
no   or   few   personal   experiences   with   war.     “We   are   not   welcome   to   bring   these   topics   into  
schools,”  Jasmina  explains,  however.  “Instead,  we  have  to  arrange  with  individual  teachers  to  
take  the  kids  outside  of  the  school  for  a  trip  if  they  want  us  to  work  with  the  kids.”  In  those  
rare  occasions,  when  teachers  agree  and  are  allowed  to  bring  students  to  Youth  Initiative,  
the   event   often   takes   place   in   a   space   outside   of   the   children’s   regular   surroundings,  
creating   a   starting   condition   for   a   ritual:   extraordinariness.   The   collective   dimension   of  
sharing  such  experience  in  a  familiar  group  fosters  and  validates  the  new  information  and  
frameworks  learned.  In  a  similar  manner,  artifacts  such  as  stickers  that  the  Youth  Initiative  
distributes   to   the   children   and   youth   symbolize   a   common   commitment   to   a   cause   or   an  
alternative  idea.  Even  such  action  plan  isn’t  always  easy  to  execute,  however.  Jasmina  tells  
a   story   about   distributing   stickers   to   kids   in   front   of   a   primary   school.   “It   was   a   ’No  
Violence’   campaign,”   she   says.   “I   was   shouted   at   by   the   kids’   teacher.   She   said   if   her   kid  
brought   that   sticker   to   home   she’d   beat   them   up.   I   thought   that’s   so   bizarre,   beating   a   kid   for  
bringing   an   anti-­violence   sticker.“   It   was   clear   to   Jasmina   that   she   had   crossed   a   line.   The  
Serbian  national(ist)  myth  recognized  the  family  space  and  child  rearing  as  sacred  space.  
—-­‐  
  Another   set   of   actions   lingers   on   the   border   between   external   and   internal  
resistance,   engaging   both   outsiders   and   group   members   in   the   creation   or   of   alternative  
narratives.   One   such   action   is   guerilla   graffiti   making.     Graffiti   making,   as   practiced   by  
Youth   Initiative,   encourages   an   articulation   and   shaping   of   common   meaning   for   those  
youth  activists  involved  in  the  process.  The  process  of  idea  development  involves  a  strong  
solidification  mechanism  for  the  activists  participating,  because  stencils  (graffiti  forms)  and  
other   props   are   made   collectively.   The   process   of   value   articulation   and   consolidation  
reflects  what  Durkheim  described  as  a  solidarity  invoking  mechanism  of  a  ritual  (1912),  a  
creation   of     Turner’s   ‘communitas’   (1969:   96).     The   collective   engagement   in   the   ritual   of  
graffiti  making  then  involves  a  collective,  secretive  night  operation.  The  repetitive  use  of  a  
single   stencil   reinforces   the   meaning   it   carries,   and   establishes   a   common   ideological  
language  for  those  participating,  in  addition  to  ‘leaving  a  mark’  for  others  to  see  does.  The  

  100  
collective  dimension  of  graffiti  ‘production’  under  unusual,  guerilla-­‐like  circumstances  has  
been   mentioned   multiple   times   by   my   informants   as   one   of   the   first   activities   at   Youth  
Initiative  which  made  them  feel  like  they  really  “belonged”.    
  The   slogans   were   frequently   related   to   current   political   happenings,   expressing  
support  or  shame.  Other  times,  slogans  related  to  the  general  frustrations  of  ‘being  young  in  
Serbia,’   as   Ruža   characterized   it.   Most   often,   however,   the   statements   engaged   in   direct  
conversations   with   other   graffiti   on   the   walls   of   Belgrade,   which   were   mostly   created   by  
the   nationalist   youth   organizations   on   the   opposite   side   of   political   spectrum   from   the  
civilno   družstvo.   The   ‘graffiti   war’   takes   the   shape   of   crossing   out   each   other’s   writings   and  
drawings,  adding  satiric  commentary,  and  other  forms  of  negation  in  the  fight  over  support  
of  those  passing  by.  A  fascinating  example  of  graffiti  war  occurred  in  the  summer  of  2013  in  
Voždovac,   a   small   city   on   Belgrade’s   outskirts,   where   the   openly   nationalist   and   rather  
extreme   group   “1389”   built   an   outdoors   gym   for   local   youth.   The   accompanying   sign,  
featuring  an  old,  nationalist  Serbian  coat  of  arms,  read:  “Body  follows  the  Soul.  Sport,  health,  
nationalism.  To  the  youth  of    Voždovac,  1389,”  referring  to  the  Orthodox  Church,  the  ideal  of  
Serbian  strength  (physical  and  mental),  and  to  nationalism.    The  next  morning,  the  words  
referring  to  the  nationalist  ideals  and  values  were  crossed  out,  and  a  new  line  added  in:  
”Niste  dobrodošli,”  –  “You  are  not  welcome.”  Youth  opposed  to  the  group’s  influence  on  the  
children  in  this  area  decided  to  make  themselves  heard.    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Figure  10    Public  Playground  Signs  in  Voždovac,  

  101  
  
  Beyond  graffiti  making,  the  internal  mechanisms  of  resistance—acts  of  self-­‐care  and  
sustenance—take   the   form   of   internal   educational   initiatives,   volunteer   engagement,   and  
social  events  reinforcing  the  idea  of  a  collective  responsibility.    All  such  actions  represent  
what   Malinowski   (1955)   called   the   soothing   nature   of   a   ritual.   Myerhoff   develops   his  
thought  further:  “…  [The  Secular]  ritual  is  a  good  form  for  conveying  a  message  as  if  it  were  
unquestionable,   it   often   is   used   to   communicate   those   very   things   which   are   most   in  
doubt”(1977:24).  As  such,  ritual  provides  legitimacy  to  meanings  that  could  otherwise  be  
contested   and   questioned.   The   ceremony   provides   a   context   of   security,   harmony,   and    
conviction  in  the  truthfulness  of  the  meaning  that  is  being  ritually  celebrated.  As  such,  even  
street   actions   and   protests   which   gather   little   public   support   are   powerful   in   terms   of  
solidifying  trust  and  comfort  regarding  the  political  message  among  the  activists.      
  The   commemoration   exercises   in   sites   of   war   massacres,   often   attended   solely   by  
activists  and  families  of  the  victims,  provide  a  perfect  example  of  a  ritual  providing  peace  
and   temporary   shelter   from   political   opposition   and   any   kind   of   conflict   that   contests   its  
meaning  outside  of  the  sanctuary  of  ritual.  Most  of  educational  programs  organized  by  the  
civilno   družstvo,   too,   ought   to   be   categorized   as   internal   resistance   mechanisms.   For  
example,   the   New   Policy   School   organized   largely   by   Youth   Initiative   for   Human   Rights  
offers   classes   on   transitional   justice,   human   rights,   and   their   implementation   in   Serbia.  
Many  of  its  participants  later  become  involved  in  the  civilno  družstvo  as  volunteers,  Jasmina  
told  me.  The  internal  resistance  programming  is  thus  crucial  not  only  to  sustenance  of  the  
civilno  družstvo,  but  also  to  its  renewal  -­‐  as  activists  leave  or  retire,  new,  young  generation  
is   ready   to   take   over.   The   ritual   mechanisms   which   sustain   the   groups   internally   and  
effectively   transmit   their   message   to   outsiders   who   participate   in   the   external   resistance  
events,  therefore  serve  as  a  backbone  to  the  entire  civilno  družstvo.  
 
WHERE  ARE  WE  GOING?  
   
Despite   daily   work,   changes   in   lives   of   individuals,   and   small   systemic   victories,   work   on  
transitional  justice  and  human  rights  in  Serbia  is  exhausting,  most  of  my  informants  shared.  
The   attainability   of   the   ultimate   goals   -­‐   normalization   of   Serbian   society   and   its  

  102  
relationships   with   former   adversaries   -­‐   is   debatable,   if   you   ask   my   young   informants.  
Largely,  victory  is  seen  in  terms  of  reconciliation.  Defined  by  my  informants  as  the  “ability  
to   trust   one   another   in   the   region   and   cooperate   across   borders”   and   the   establishment   of  
regional  norms  and  values,  may  take  decades  to  achieve  (interviews).  The  civilno  družstvo,  
and   Youth   Initiative   for   Human   Rights   in   particular,   have   been   taking   the   post-­‐WW2  
reconciliation   process   between   Germany   and   France   for   inspiration,   an   example   which  
took   a   good   half   of   a   century   to   yield   results.     “I   don’t   know   if   we   can   ever   be   completely  
reconciled,”  Anja  sighs.  “Perhaps  we  could  strive  towards  normalcy  in  interactions,  but  I  don’t  
think   we   will   go   around   hugging   and   loving   the   Bosniaks   or   Croats   anytime   soon,   at   least   not  
collectively,   as   a   nation.”     “Reconciliation   is   definitely   needed   but   it’s   not   attainable,”   Mirko  
shakes   his   head   definitively.   He   justifies   his   take   by   lack   of   agreement   on   simple   facts.  
Locations  of  war  crimes,  dates,  numbers  of  victims—the  lack  of  shared  truth  among  former  
adversaries  in  the  Balkans  will  not  allow  healing  to  occur.  “It  would  be  very  hard  for  Serbia  
and  Croatia  to  agree  on  the  same  sequence    of  events  in  the  1990’s,  we  cannot  agree  even  on  
the  sequence  of  events  during  second  world  war  and  even  prior  to  that.”  Mirko  insists  that  the  
development   towards   reconciliation   needs   to   happen   domestically,   first.   While   it   is   natural  
to   have   small   pockets   of   extreme   right   spreading   xenophobic   and   nationalist   teaching  
throughout  the  public  scene,  the  institutions  should  be  capable  of  behaving  differently.  “We  
simply  need  to  reform  the  institutions  and  hope  for  a  civilized  leadership.  Then  the  public  will  
have   role   models   to   look   up   to   instead   of   the   radicals.   We   can   work   on   dealing   with   those  
later.”  Serbia  might  be  waiting  for  institutional  reform  at  least  as  long  as  former  war  lords  
are  elected  into  public  office,  however.  Reconciliation,  the  rebuilding  of  working  relations  
between   former   war   adversaries,   thus,   forms   an   ideal   state   that   majority   of   my   informants  
see  as  very  distant  or  even  unattainable.  Each  of  the  activists  decides  what  is  realistic,  and  
when  will  they  feel  like  they  have  achieved  something.    Maja  has  a  clear  idea,  however.  “I  
will   know   I’ve   succeeded   when   I   take   my   parents   to   Prishtina   or   Sarajevo   after   all   that’s  
happened.”    
  After   taking   a   closer   look   on   the   narratives   prevalent   in   the   civilno   družstvo,     on  
specific  organizations  and  their  practice  of  both  internal  and  external  resistance,  this  thesis  
will  conclude  with  a  chapter  showcasing  the  clash  of  national  narratives  between  nations  
and  within  individuals.    

  103  
 CHAPTER  5:  
SREBRENICA:  THE  NARRATIVES  COME  TO  LIFE  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
On  July  11th  2013  I  was  lucky  to  participate  on  a  trip  to  Srebrenica  organized  by  the  Serbian  
Women   in   Black   and   other   civilno   družstvo   organizations.   Even   though   Srebrenica   was  
outside   of   Belgrade,   my   primary   field,   I   decided   to   dedicate   a   chapter   to   the   experience  
because   the   event   gave   shape,   form   and   life   to   the   way   in   which   the   otherwise   abstract  
conflict   of   national   ideologies   worked   and   developed.   Because   Srebrenica,   located   in   the  
Eastern   part   of   Bosnia   and   Herzegovina,   wasn’t   my   primary   focus   during   my   time   in  
Belgrade,   this   chapter   will,   more   than   others,   rely   on   secondary   sources   to   provide   the  
theoretical  settings  for  my  ethnographic  account  of  the  day  trip.    
  Srebrenica   is   a   site   where   over   eight   thousand   Muslim   men   and   children   were  
massacred   by   Serb   soldiers   in   July   of   1995.   Women   in   Black   organize   this   annual   trip   to  
Srebrenica   in   time   for   the   yearly   Commemoration   ceremony.   I   believe   that   the   chapter   will  
enrich   the   previous   analysis   because   the   ceremony   was   in   many   ways   emblematic   of   the  
process  of  personal  national  narrative  formation.  Because  I  attended  it  together  with  young  
Serbian   activists   from   the   civilno   družstvo,   I   was   able   to   witness   the   effect   that   such  
experience   had   on   their   own   ideological   negotiations   and   understanding   of   the   past.  
Instead   of   speaking   of   static   values     and   ideas   about   citizenship   in   cafés   and   offices   of  
Belgrade,   the   trip   set   these   narratives   into   motion   and   exposed   them   to   intensive  
materialization  of  the  counter-­‐narratives.    
  At   a   site   of   the   massacre,   families   of   the   Bosniak   Muslim   victims   mourned   the  
eighteenth  anniversary  of  their  close  ones’  deaths  and  representatives  of  the  international  
community   spoke   words   of   regret   for   not   preventing   the   atrocity.     All   sides   converged,   like  
they  do  every  year  on  11th  of  July,  seemingly  entrenched  in  their  respective  understandings  
of   the   past.   Yet,   the   ritual   of   commemorating   Srebrenica’s   victims   did   have   the   potential   to  

  104  
alter  one’s  understanding  of  the  past.  It  is  this  possible  change  which  most  interested  me  
when   I   interviewed   the   participants   after   our   return   to   Belgrade,   because   it   seemed   that  
the   participants   developed   a   whole   range   of   reactions.   On   the   way   back   from   Srebrenica  
the   diverse   group   of   delegates   from   different   civilno   družstvo   organizations   in   Belgrade  
around  me  held  a  variety  of  widely  different  sentiments  and  interpretations  of  the  event.  
  Srebrenica   is   emblematic   of   the   problematic   ways   in   which   the   recent   Balkan   war  
past   is   understood,   narrated,   and   taught.   Do   we   assign   blame   to   individuals   or   to   ethnic  
groups?  How  do  we  count  the  bodies  found  and  do  we  trust  the  one  doing  the  counting?  If  
we   admit   that   a   massacre   has   happened,   does   it   mean   we   need   to   be   accountable   for   it?  
How   does   learning   about   a   war   crime   change   the   way   that   we   perceive   our   nation   and   our  
role  in  it?  What  do  rows  of  graves  mean  for  the  boundaries  of  our  nations?  How  does  the  
experience  of  visiting  the  site  of  a  war  crime  change  or  confirm  our  understanding  of  the  
past?  The  following  pages  will  aim  to  tackle  these  questions  as  they  were  explored  by  my  
anthropological  predecessors  and  experienced  by  my  informants.    
  Throughout  the  Balkans  multiple  other  war  crimes  are  celebrated  and  mourned  by  
different  sides  of  the  conflict  in  a  manner  similar  to  Srebrenica.    Vukovar,  a  city  in  Northern  
Croatia  entirely  destroyed  by  warfare  in  1991,  Dubrovnik,  bombed  by  the  Serbian  army  in  
1991,  Krajina,  the  region  in  northern  Croatia  subjected  to  a  major  combat  in  the  Croatian  
struggle   for   independence   in   1995   and   others   are   all   associated   with   conflicting   narratives  
and   grand   judgments   about   the   moral   nature   of   the   participating   sides.   The   massacre   in  
Srebrenica,   however,   stands   out   among   these   events   in   severity   and,   perhaps  
consequentially,   in   the   frequency   with   which   it   is   recalled   by   contemporary   media   and  
politicians.  Narratives  relating  to  the  historical  role  of  a  nation  (e.g.  the  Serbian  narrative  of  
victimhood7)   are   assumed   by   individuals   through   an   encounter   with   a   particular  
interpretation   of     events   such   as   Srebrenica,   Vukovar,   Dubrovnik,   or   Krajina.   The   trip   to  
Srebrenica  has  given  me  the  opportunity  to  observe  young  Serbian  activists  encountering  
such   event   directly,   without   the   layer   of   interpretation   and   moral   judgment   framing   the  
story  to  fit  the  national  narrative.  As  a  result,  I  was  able  to  observe  and  later  talk  to  these  
young  people  about  how  the  experience  of  the  event  stripped  of  the  narrative  affected  the  

                                                                                                               
7  as  introduced  and  analyzed  in  chapter  One  of  this  thesis  

  105  
manner  in  which  they  came  to  perceive  the  narrative  as  a  separate,  changing  variable  of  the  
event.        
  In   attending   the   Commemoration   ceremony   in   Srebrenica,   the   Serbian   activists  
were   overcoming   a   long   intellectual   distance   between   the   national   interpretation   in   Serbia  
and  the  interpretation  of  the  Muslim  mourners  and  family  members  of  those  slaughtered  in  
the   massacre.   In   some   ways,   among   different   interpretations   of   the   event,   these   two  
narratives  are  the  farthest  from  each  other.    The  following  chapter  will  introduce  the  major  
existing  narratives  related  to  Srebrenica  in  order  to  highlight  how  a  single  historical  event  
can  be  interpreted  to  suit  different  purposes  and  create  conditions  for  the  maintenance  of  
grievances  and  unstained  national  pride  in  a  post-­‐conflict  context.  All  sides  of  the  conflict  
interpret   the   single   happening   in   Srebrenica   in   the   summer   of   1995   in   accordance   to   the  
larger   national   narratives   encapsulating   their   historical   as   well   as   contemporary   existence.  
Some  remember  it  with  pain,  some  with  the  bitterness  of  a  false  accusation,  and  some  with  
a  heavy  weight  of  responsibility  on  their  shoulders.  Even  the  most  basic  facts  and  figures  
regarding  the  massacre  such  as  the  number  of  victims  are  contested  as  are  their  political  
implications.  Because  the  scale  of  violence  we  witnessed  in  Srebrenica  has  not  been  seen  in  
Europe  since  the  end  of  the  Second  World  War,  the  story  resonates  strongly  with  both  local  
and  international  audiences.  Any  attempt  at  simple  summarization  of  events  that  occurred  
on   July   11th   1995   in   Srebrenica   and   in   the   surrounding   valley   will   easily   be   contested,  
however.  I  will  attempt  to  expose  the  reader  to  such  conflicted  context,  and  show  how  such  
contradictory   narratives   can,   paradoxically,   help   show   each   other’s   distance   from   truth  
when  intersected  and  materialized  at  an  event  such  as  a  commemoration  ceremony.    
  In  the  following  chapter  I  will  use  the  writing  of  Verdery  (1999),  Pollack  (2003)  and  
Herman   (1997)   to   show   that   events   such   as   the   Commemoration   ceremony   for   the  
Srebrenica  massacre  have  the  power  to  materialize  previously  abstract  political  narratives  
because   the   dead   bodies   at   their   center   serve   as   a   symbolical   connection   between   the   past,  
the   present   and   future.   Narratives   related   to   the   Srebrenica   massacre   will   be   presented  
next   in   order   to   show   the   reader   why   the   various   sides   to   the   past   conflict   remain  
interested   in   Srebrenica.   I   will   then   illustrate   how   because   of   the   sudden   immediacy   of   the  
Bosnian  Muslim  narrative,  Serbian  activists  present  were  able  to  see  the  event  separately  
from  the  politically  judgmental  narratives  circulating  in  Serbia.  Setting  the  event  apart  from  

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its  political  interpretation  opened  up  a  space  for  personal  interpretation.  I  will  show  that  
individuals   from   the   Serbian   civilno   družstvo   who   attended   the   Ceremony   in   Srebrenica  
varied  in  the  extent  to  which  they  were  able  to  access  the  newly  opened  space  for  personal  
formulation   of   ideology.   The   differences   among   individuals,   I   will   conclude,   reflect   the  
personal   nature   of   ideology   formation.   Ideology   cannot   be   imposed   onto   a   passive  
recipient,   the   understanding   of   one’s   cultural   context   can   be   changed   only   by   the  
individual’s  own  will.      
  Besides   making   a   point   about   the   individual   nature   of   ideology   formation,   this  
chapter  also  strives  to  fill  a  gap  in  the  existing  literature  on  violence,  which  rarely  focuses  
on  second-­‐generation  involvement  with  the  past.  In  developing  my  argument,  I  build  on  the  
very   basic   texts   in   the   field   (Arendt   1963,   Milgram   1963,   Fanon   1965,   Taussig   1984,  
Feldman  1994,  and  Robben  1995  to  name  a  few)  as  well  as  on  modern  analyses  of  violence,  
such   as   Carolyn   Nordstorm’s   account   of   the   consequences   of   political   violence   among  
affected  individuals  and  communities  (2004),  Arjun  Appadurai’s  account  of  globalization  in  
interplay  with  violent  nationalism  (2006),  or  the  writings  on  the  everyday  violence  such  as  
Paul   Farmer’s   account   of   structural   violence   (1996).   Despite   the   recently   developed  
diversity   in   the   field   of   violence   and   genocide   studies,   anthropological   research   on  
collective   memory   of   violence   and   domestic   resistance   to   violent   national   narratives  
remains  rare.  From  the  literature  that  I  am  familiar  with,  Greta  Uehling’s  study  of  Crimean  
Tatar   deportation   from   Crimea   to   Central   Asia   and   the   second   and   third   generation’s  
conceptualizations  of  the  transfer  and  distant  home  land  (2004)  reaches  closest  to  my  own  
interest.   My   informants   do   not   think   of   themselves   in   the   old   binary   of   victim   versus  
perpetrator,  nor  can  they  be  studied  in  such  terms  and  under  such  generalizations.  Their  
narratives   are   individual,   unique,   and   in   opposition   to   the   nationalist   narratives   of   the  
majority.   The   following   analysis   thus   attempts   to   introduce   a   new   group   of   perspectives  
from  the  post-­‐conflict  context.    
 
THE  MASSACRE  
 
The  war  of  Yugoslav  secession  displaced  thousands  of  people  and  families,  who  ran  away  
from  homes  in  villages  dominated  by  different  ethnic  groups,  or  from  homes  destroyed  by  
direct   combat.     By   1993,   the   town   of   Srebrenica   in   Eastern   Bosnia   and   Herzegovina  

  107  
expanded   to   accommodate   over   40,000   Muslim   refugees   from   the   surrounding,   Serb-­‐
dominated  areas.  Though  the  region  used  to  be  occupied  predominantly  by  Muslims  before  
the  start  of  the  war  in  1992  (Honig,  1997),  the  proximity  to  Serbian  border  meant  that  the  
region   became   easily   susceptible   to   the   combined   forces   of   Serbia-­‐controlled   Yugoslav  
army   and   the   army   of   Bosnian   Serbs.     Srebrenica,   the   last   Muslim   camp   holding   against   the  
continued   Serb   attacks,   was   celebrated   in   Bosniak   (Muslim)   pop   songs   as   a   symbol   of  
resistance.   With   no   foreign   government   willing   to   engage   militarily   in   the   conflict,  
Srebrenica  was  given  a  status  of  protected  ‘safe  area’  by  the  UN  Security  Council.    
 
Figure   11   Srebrenica   UN-­declared   “Safe  
Area”,  1994  

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  How   the   narrative   continues   depends   on   who   does   the   narrating.   In   order   to  
maintain   integrity   of   the   already   complicated   story,   I   will     begin   to   set   the   stage   for   further  
analysis  by  presenting  the  official  narrative  shared  by  the  international  investigators,  local  
Muslims,  as  well  as  by  the  Serbian  civilno  družstvo.  I  will  then  explain  the  theory  behind  the  
power   of   dead   bodies.   At   a   later   point   in   the   chapter   I   will   introduce   the   alternative  
narratives  relevant  to  my  analysis  -­‐  those  of  the  Serbian  State  and  the  Serbian  “pub(lic)”.  In  
recounting   the   official   as   well   as   the   alternative   narratives,   I   want   to   establish   an  
understanding  of  the  historical  circumstances  and  contradictions  in  which  my  ethnography  

  108  
ensued.   The   context   will   equip   the   reader   to   understand   why   Srebrenica   gained   political  
significance  in  the  years  after  the  massacre,  and  how  commemorating  the  massacre  opens  
up  space  for  revisions  of  the  narratives  of  the  past.    
—-­  
 
Despite  presence  of  Dutch  UN  soldiers,  the  area  was  seized  by  the  Serbian  forces  under  the  
leadership   of   Ratko   Mladic.   Between   July   6th   and   July   11th   1995,   over   23,000   Bosnian  
Muslim   women   and   girls   were   captured   and   transported   out   of   the   Serb-­‐controlled   area,  
while   up   to   three   thousand   men   and   boys   were   slaughtered   in   Srebrenica   (Honig,   1997).  
Over   five   thousand   men   who   tried   to   escape   the   Srebrenica   valley   at   the   time   of   the  
massacre   were   killed   on   the   surrounding   hills   by   Bosnian   Serb   patrols.     “Here   we   are   in  
Srebrenica  on  July  11th,  1995.  On  the  eve  of  yet  another  great  Serb  holiday.  We  present  this  
city  to  the  Serbian  people  as  a  gift.  Finally,  the  time  has  come  to  take  revenge  on  the  Turks,”  
Bosnian   Serb   leader   Mladic   said,   strolling   through   the   streets,   greeting   and   kissing  
victorious   Serb   soldiers   after   they   captured   the   Bosnian   Muslim   refugee   camp,   as   a  
television   reporter   from   the   Bosnian-­‐Serb   capital   of   Pale   followed   his   every   move.   By   early  
November   1995,   over   800   bodies   have   been   found   (Stover,   1998:   178).   As   of   July   2009,  
8373  Muslim  bodies  were  retrieved  from  mass  graves  around  Srebrenica  and  buried  in  the  
Srebrenica   memorial   cemetery   (Memorialni   Centar   2009).   More   bodies   continue   to   be  
found  every  year  and  the  11th  of  July  Commemorations  have  thus  taken  the  form  of  funerals  
for  those  who  were  just  being  buried,  almost  two  decades  after  the  massacre.    
  Srebrenica,  where  rows  and  rows  of  white  tombstones  cover  an  astonishing  number  
of   fields,   has   been   used   as   a   political   symbol,   a   tool   for   collective     reformulation   of   the   past  
and   present.   The   dead   bodies   of   Muslim   men   and   boys   have   been   effectively   used   as  
representations   of   national   narrative   by   both   sides   of   the   conflict.   Even   though   Verdery’s  
references   to   Yugoslavia   are   limited   (1999),   I   will   present   the   anthropologist’s   theory   on  
the   next   few   pages   to   explains   why   so   much   has   been   said   and   imagined   about   a   small  
village  with  a  lot  of  graves.  Understanding  the  symbolical  and  political    power  of  graves  will  
allow  us  to  see  that  commemorations  of  the  Srebrenica  massacre  annually  create  a  space  
where  national  narrative  comes  to  life.    

  109  
  
  Figure  12  The  Graves  of  Srebrenica  (Author’s  archives)  

   
THE  GRAVES  OF  SREBENICA  :    WHY  THOSE  WHO  DIED  YESTERDAY  MATTER  TODAY    
 
The  dead  bodies  at  the  center  of  funerals  and  commemorations  following  a  massacre  serve  
as  a  symbolical  connection  between  the  past,  the  present  and  future.  Beyond  honoring  the  
dead,   these   rituals   serve   to   reunite   a   community   of   mourners   with   each   other   in   their   pain  
and  narrative  as  well  as  with  the  land  that  was  violently  taken  away  from  them.  Doing  so,  
events   such   as   the   Commemoration   ceremony   for   the   Srebrenica   massacre   have   the   power  
to   materialize   the   victim’s   narrative   through   the   living   and   breathing   image   of   relatable  
pain  of  the  survivors.    In  order  to  understand  why  the  Srebrenica  commemoration  serves  
as  such  a  powerful  materialization  of  the  national  narrative,  we  need  to  first  examine  the  
ability  of  dead  bodies  to  serve  a  political  function.  
  Death,  closely  related  to  a  culture’s  spiritual  and  moral  frameworks,  is  universal  to  
all   human   societies.   In   most,   death   stands   at   the   center   of   powerful   rituals   of   remembering  
and   honoring   (sometimes   even   appeasing!)   those   no   longer   present.   Even   after   the  
immediate   burial,   places   where   bodies   remain   are   cultivated   as   valued   sites   of   loss   and  

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ancestral  honor.  Societies  erect  tombstones  as  visual  representations  of  death,  and  visit  the  
sites   to   reconnect   with   the   past.   Such   sites   of   remembrance,   however,   are   capable   of  
carrying   a   larger,   collective   significance   at   times   of   national   solidification   or  
transformation.   Dead   bodies,   individual   or   collective,   have   been   instrumental   for   the  
creation   of   national   identities   since   the   age   of   enlightenment   when   the   idea   of   a   nation  
state   first   gained   salience.   In   a   process   of   national   solidification   described   by   the  
theoretical   fathers   of   instrumental   nationalism   (Anderson   1983,   Cohen   1974),   selected  
segments   of   historical   heritage   are   chosen   to   justify,   strengthen   and   maintain   particular  
ethnic  identities.  Simply  said  -­‐  the  past  is  used  to  shape  the  present.  Representing  the  past  
come   deceased   national   heroes,   elevated   from   the   grave   of   forgetting   to   the   glory   of  
remembrance.   The   creation   of   ancestral   role   models   establishes   contemporary   collective  
identities  and  self-­‐perceptions  among  those  belonging  to  a  nation.  As  Levi-­‐Strauss  famously  
noted,  history  is  not  a  product  of  the  past,  but  rather,  a  response  to  the  requirements  of  the  
present  (1962),  and  dead  role  models  and  their  graves  are  readily  available  to  serve  such  
purpose.    
  In  the  former  Yugoslavia,  too,  dead  bodies  serve  the  purpose  of  adjusting  the  past  to  
serve  the  needs  of  the  present.  Such  practices  have,  for  example,  led  to  the  creation  of  the  
Serbian   pantheon   of   national   heroes,   writes   Čolović   (2002:57)8.   Sites   of   grieving   and  
burials   have   also   began   to   carry   a   political   significance   that   transformed   grieving  
immediately   following   death   to   a   celebration   of   national   collectivities.   Thanks   to   their  
capacity  to  rewrite  the  past  and  current  identities,  dead  bodies,  as  Verdery  bluntly  calls  the  
remains   of   those   deceased,   are   perfect   political   tools   for   dealing   with   the   traumas   of  
national  transitions,  be  it  a  transition  into  a  post-­‐socialist,  or  a  post-­‐conflict  state  (or,  as  it  is  
the   case   in   the   Balkans,   both   at   once).   Bones   and   corpses   serve   as   tools   for   the   re-­‐
adjustment   of   power   relations,   reassessment   of   national   identities,   changes   in   property  
relations,  as  well  as  contests  over  morality  (Verdery  1999).    
  The   use   of   dead   bodies   in   the   region,   however,   escapes   the   ordinary.   Most   dead  
bodies  celebrated  for  contemporary  political  purposes  worldwide,  Verdery  claims,  belong  
to  specific  famous  individuals  representing  a  specific  characteristic  of  the  nation’s  historic  

                                                                                                               
8  I  described  the  Serbian  pantheon  and  its  role  in  the  national(ist)  myth  in  chapter  One.  

  111  
(and  by  association  contemporary)  nature  (1999:  97).  Statues  and  portraits  of  these  heroes  
decorate   public   spaces   to   enter   into   consciousness   of   the   nation.   In   the   region   of   former  
Yugoslavia,   however,   more     than   individual   heroes,   mass   graves   and   bodies   of   nameless  
victims  have  been  called  to  redraw  the  memory  of  wars  of  the  20th  century.      
  The  Balkan  tendency  to  celebrate  nameless  victims  in  the  recent  wars  is  closely  tied  
to   the   local   understanding   of   blame   and   accountability.   In   contrast   to   the   Western   legal  
approach   to   justice   and   reconciliation   in   the   aftermath   of   mass   atrocities   (such   as   that   of  
ICTY   or   ICC),   individual   military   commanders   and   political   leaders   were   not   targeted   by  
public   grief   and   hatred.   The   self-­‐proclaimed   ethnic   leaders   of   the   most   recent   war   cycle  
such   as   the   Serb   president   Milošević   or   the   Croat   president   Tudman   promoted   and  
exploited  collective  blame,  profitable  in  the  war  context.  Faulting  entire  ethnic  groups  for  
crimes  committed  locally  encouraged  direct  reciprocation  and  revenge  through  new  mass  
massacres  on  civilians  in  different,  previously  unaffected  areas.  In  the  aftermath  of  the  war  
that  was  never  won  or  lost  by  either  of  the  sides,  but  merely  stopped  through  international  
diplomatic   pressure,   representations   of   collective   suffering   in   mass   atrocities   have   been  
recognized   as   a   metaphor   for   the   suffering   of   entire   nations.     Just   as   during   the   war,   blame  
for   the   deaths   remained   assigned   to   ethnic   groups   collectively.   Verdery   mentions   this  
practice   in   the   context   of   Second   World   War   on   the   territory   of   former   Yugoslavia:  
“Originally,   upon   discovery   of   new   mass   graves,   the   perpetrators   were   named   as   Četnici   or    
Ustaše9,   but   soon   those   accusations   changed   to   Serbs   and   Croats   (1999:   112).”   During   the  
consequent  break  up  of  Yugoslavia,  the  same  principle  applied.    
  In   a   region   as   ethnically   mixed   as   the   Balkans,   dead   bodies   not   only   helped   to  
solidify   national   solidarity   in   opposition   to   the   ‘other’   nations,   but   also   helped   to   redraw  
physical   boundaries   of   the   post-­‐war   ethno-­‐political   arrangement.   In   1987,   for   example,  
Milošević   famously   toured   Kosovo,   which   already   then   was   inhabited   predominantly   by  
Kosovar   Albanians,   with   the   bones   of   long   deceased   Serbian   Prince   Lazar,   a   hero   of   the  
1389   battle   against   the   Ottoman   Turks   which   took   place   in   Kosovo.   “Serbia   is   wherever  

                                                                                                               
9  Četnici  was  a  name  given  to  monarchist  paramilitary  units  from  the  1st  half  of  the  20th  century.  

Ustaše  were  the  civilian  units  often  accused  of  collaboration  with  the  Nazi  forces  in  the  region  
during  the  same  time  frame.  The  groups  were  ethnically  mixed,  with  larger  numbers  of  Serbs  
among  Četnici,  and  Croats  in  the  Ustaše  units.  

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there   are   Serbian   graves,”   he   asserted   Serbian   territorial   claims   to   the   Kosovar   space  
(Verdery   1999).   Under   contemporary   circumstances,   the   continuing   burials   and  
commemoration  ceremonies  for  mass  atrocities  such  as  the  one  in  Srebrenica  continue  to  
serve  reuniting  a  community  of  mourners  with  a  site  of  former  loss,  a  space  formerly  taken  
by   enemy   armies.   Pollack   (2003)   writes   about   sites   of   trauma   and   their   capacity   to  
encourage   healing.   Trauma,   he   asserts,   destroys   the   survivors’   sense   of   attachment   to   a  
place   where   it   occurs.   Reclaiming   the   environment   through   burial   of   the   victims’   bodies  
and   commemorations,   however,   mitigates   the   psychological   sense   of   loss   (793).   Burial   is  
thus  as  much  about  honoring  the  past  kin  and  spiritual  traditions,  as  it  is  about  recreating  a  
relationship  with  the  physical  environment.  “If  we  do  not  burry  the  bodies  in  Srebrenica,  the  
Serbs  will  accept  it  as  their  town,”  an  informant  of  Pollack’s  reflected  on  the  need  to  reaffirm  
their   belonging   to   the   land.   “Both   the   living   and   the   dead   were   expelled   from   the   land,   not  
allowing   the   burial   in   Srebrenica   would   be   like   letting   the   genocide   continue   (797).”   The  
bones   are   used   to   ‘mark’   a   territory,   and   reclaim   it   for   those   who   remain   living,   and   the  
burial’s  primary  function  shifts  from  serving  the  dead  to  serving  those  alive.  Dead  bodies  
thus  became  the  principle  tools  for  the  formation  of  post-­‐Yugoslav  spatial  order.    
  Judith   Herman   (1997),   a   proclaimed   psychiatrist   focusing   on   post-­‐conflict   trauma,  
asserts  that  establishing  a  space  for  burial  in  the  place  where  trauma  occurred  also  creates  
a  space  that  is  safe  for  retelling  the  story.  Creating  such  space  then  enables  the  survivors  to  
confront  what  Herman  calls  the  ‘fundamental  paradox  of  horror’,  the  simultaneous  inability  
and   need   to   retell   the   story   of   trauma.   Imagining,   designing,   and   fighting   for   a   memorial  
site   in   Potocari   -­‐   Srebrenica   thus   enabled   the   participating   survivors   to   confront   their  
silence  as  well  as  assert  their  control  over  the  formerly  lost  space.  Designing  the  cemetery  
and   re-­‐affirming   their   belonging   to   the   valley   deeply   entrenched   in   the   now   fully   Serbian  
region   in   Eastern   Bosnia   and   Herzegovina   thus   enables   the   Bosnian   Muslims   to   keep  
reclaiming   their   land   and   their   narrative   year   after   year   during   the   commemoration  
ceremonies  of  July  11th.      
 
 
 
 
 

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THE  CONTRADICTORY  TRUTHS      
 
Despite   the   contemporary   political   significance   of   the   site,   its   story   remains   entangled   in  
controversies.   The   number   of   victims   has   not   been   finalized   and   agreed   upon   by   any   of   the  
many   ideological   sides   related   to   the   massacre.   The   Srebrenica   valley   receives   frequent  
mentions   at   the   high   point   of   political   speeches   on   both   ends   of   the   same   political  
spectrum.  Paradoxically,  considering  the  number  of  versions  the  story  carries,  its  different  
interpretations  are  often  used  as  the  ultimate  proof  of  the  accuracy  of  national  narratives.  
In  visiting  the  site  at  a  time  of  the  Commemoration  the  Serbian  youth  directly  experience  
the   alternative   narrative   they   have   so   far   been   learning   about   and   advocating   for   in   an  
abstract   form.   While   in   the   process   of   questioning   and   rejecting   the   Serbian   national(ist)  
myth,   the   experience   put   them   at   the   center   of   a   very   real   conflict   between   the   existing  
contradictory   narratives   and   interpretations.   Let   me   now   introduce   a   few   of   these  
contradictory   accounts.   It   is   my   hope   that   the   reader   will   be   able   to   see   how   these  
narratives   about   Srebrenica   stem   from   the   larger   worldviews   of   the   sides   present   in   the  
post-­‐conflict  reconstruction  of  Serbia  and  the  region.  
 
(1)  THE  INTERNATIONAL  COMMUNITY  
Given   the   proximity   of   the   Balkans   to   the   European   West,   the   violence   of   civil   war   in   the  
region   could   hardly   be   ignored   by   the   international   actors   during   the   90’s   or   after.   No  
world  power  dared  to  engage  militarily,  however,  for  fears  of  domestic  disapproval  of  what  
would  have  been  a  costly  operation  amidst  attempts  at  ethnic  cleaning  pursued  by  all  sides  
to   the   conflict.   The   NATO   coalition   finally   agreed   to   send   peace-­‐keeping   troops   for   the  
purpose  of  establishing  safe  areas  and  refugee  camps  such  as  that  in  Srebrenica  -­‐  Potocari.  
The  mandate,  however,  was  strictly  humanitarian,  as  none  of  the  European  NATO  members  
sending  soldiers  to  the  Balkans  could  justify  collateral  losses  domestically  (Daalder  1998).  
When   low-­‐scale   NATO   air-­‐strikes   against   the   fast-­‐progressing   Serb   forces   in   early   1995  
resulted  in  almost  400  peacekeepers  taken  hostage,  the  mission  countries  quickly  decided  
no  more  direct  engagement  with  the  conflict  would  be  desirable.  The  withdrawal  of  NATO  
soldiers  presumably  resulted  in  increased  confidence  of  the  Serb  paramilitary  units  which  

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begun   to   surround   and   attack   the   guarded   gates   of   the   Srebrenica   camp.   When   the   UN-­‐
protected   Srebrenica   valley   received   first   wave   of   shells,   the   Dutch   guards   called   for    
military  assistance.  Due  to  bureaucratic  delay  and  reluctance  of  the  NATO  commanders  to  
engage   the   situation,   no   help   was   sent   and   the   Dutch   were   forced   to   surrender   and   disarm  
to   the   incoming   forces   of   Bosnian   Serb   general   Ratko   Mladic.   In   an   episode   of   ultimate  
humiliation,  the  Dutch  were  forced  to  leave  the  compound  full  of  Bosnian  Muslim  refugees  
at  the  grace  of  the  Serbian  forces.    "When  I  saw  him  [Ratko  Mladic]  at  that  moment  I  wished  I  
had  a  gun  so  I  could  have  shot  him,  but  he  had  disarmed  us,"  a  Dutch  officer,  20  years  old  at  
the  time,  told  The  Sunday  Telegraph.  "We  knew  the  Muslims  would  suffer,  but  we  had  no  idea  
there   would   be   so   much   killing.   Mladic   had   reassured   our   commanders   that   they   would   be  
well  treated.  Well  they  weren't”  (The  Telegraph,  June  2011).      
  Following  the  massacre,  the  international  leadership  found  itself  subjected  to  public  
outrage   similar   to   that   following   the   Rwandan   Genocide   a   year   earlier.   The   US-­‐led  
diplomatic   negotiations   gained   ground   and   led   to   the   successful   signing   of   the   Dayton  
Peace  treaty  in  Dayton,  Texas.  Since,  the  European  Union  has  been  strongly  committed  to  
the  political  and  economical  development  of  the  Balkans  as  a  means  of  maintaining  peace  
and   order   immediately   outside   its   borders.   The   Federation   of   Bosnia   and   Herzegovina  
became   provisionally   overseen   by   a   High   Representative   from   the   Council   of   Europe,  
legally   superior   to   the   country’s   triple   presidency.   Throughout   the   region,   and   more  
importantly   for   the   case   of   Serbia,   the   EU   conditioned   its   consideration   of   EU   accession  
prospects  by  the  countries’  compliance  with  Western  transitional  justice  mechanisms.    The  
UN   Security   Council   tasked   the   International   Criminal   Tribunal   for   former   Yugoslavia,   in  
operation   since   1993,   to   push   for   individual   -­‐   level   prosecution   as   a   means   of   serving  
justice   in   the   region.   In   such   manner,   former   government   and   military   leaders   involved  
with  the  conflict  have  been  tried  under  the  auspice  of  the  international  criminal  law.    
  To  the  West,  Srebrenica  serves  as  a  painful  reminder  of  the  international  inability  to  
prevent   mass   atrocities   in   its   immediate   surroundings,   but   also   as   an   epitome   of   the  
western   take   on   the   conflict.   With   Bosnia   and   Herzegovina   under   the   constitutional  
protection  of  the  West,  and  Croatia  being  a  new  member  of  the  European  Union  since  2013,  
Serbia   remains   the   only   major   country   of   former   Yugoslavia   that   has   not   reformed  
according   to   (or   conformed   to?)   the   Western   standards.   The   West   continues   to   point   out  

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Serbia’s   unsatisfactory   progress   in   the   fields   of   democratization,   rule   of   law,   liberal  
regulation  of  economies,  protection  of  minorities,  human  rights  and  freedom  of  movement  
(CEMISS   2003).   Similarly,   the   West   has   been   pressuring   the   Serbian   government   to   face  
Srebrenica   and   take   accountability   for   this   and   other   massacres   which   the   West  
understands  as  Serbia’s  doing.    
 
(2)  THE  SERBIAN  STATE  
The  Serbian  state  tackles  two  sensitive  questions  regarding  Srebrenica.  First,  where  are  the  
borders  of  Serbia,  and  what  is  the  relationship  between  the  modern  Serb  state  and  Serbs  
living  outside  of  its  modern  borders?    Second,  how  does  Serbian  attitude  towards  the  past  
affect   its   prospects   of   prosperity   in   the   future?   In   searching   for   the   link   between   current  
Serb  state  and  the  massacre  in  Srebrenica,  the  state  must  either  embrace  or  distance  itself  
from  the  Bosnian  Serb  population  in  the  Republika  Srpska,  one  of  three  federative  parts  of  
contemporary   Bosnia   and   Herzegovina.   The   territory   of   today’s   Republika   Srpska  
(including  the  Srebrenica  county)  has  been  ethnically  cleaned  by  the  combined  Serbian  and  
Bosnian   Serb   forces,   but   it   is   unclear   whether   any   soldiers   from   Serbia   proper   participated  
in   the   Srebrenica   massacre.   While   Bosnian   Serb   leaders   such   as   Mladic   or   Karazdic   have  
been   tried   and   convicted   for   crimes   against   humanity   including   Srebrenica   by   the  
international  courts  in  the  Hague,  the  Serbian  state  and  its  representatives  have  been  using  
the   lack   of   clear   information   and   uncertainty   about   its   participation   in   the   Srebrenica  
operation   to   maintain   positive   relations   both   with   the   West   and   with   the   Serbian  
population  in  Bosnia.  Denying  their  support  for  the  operation  has  clear  benefits  in  pleasing  
the   European   Union,   but   also   repercussions   in   terms   of   perceived   betrayal   of   the   historical  
and   ethnic   connection   in   the   eyes   of   the   Bosnian   Serbs.   The   past   and   current   Serbian  
leadership   has   thus   been   careful   to   link   Serbian   war   pursuits   to   crimes   such   as   the   ones  
committed  in  Srebrenica  regardless  of  the  question  of  possible  participation  of  Serb  forces  
in  the  massacre,  and  the  ideological  support  of  former  Serb  leadership  for  the  ethnic  ideal  
of   Greater   Serbia   (including   the   areas   formerly   occupied   by   distinct   ethnic   groups),  
carefully  maintaining  support  for  both  sides.      
  While   Milošević   refused   to   consider   accusations   of   war   crimes   of   any   kind   even  
during   his   hearing   at   the   Hague   tribunal   (ICTY,   2001),   the   following   leaders   of   Serbian  

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government   realized   that   Serbia   was   to   choose   between   defense   of   all   Serb   conduct   during  
the   war,   and   the   possibility   to   engage   in   developmental   cooperation   with   the   West,   with  
the   European   Union   in   particular.   In   2005   President   Tadic   considered   accepting   an  
invitation   to   the   Srebrenica   ceremony   as   a   sign   of   willingness   to   distance   Serbia   from   its  
past  and  begin  reconciliation  in  the  region.  “I  want  to  go  as  an  individual  citizen  to  honor  the  
lives   lost   on   the   part   of   the   Bosnian   Muslims   in   the   name   of   my   nation,”   he   said   in   an  
interview   for   the   Croatian   National   television   (HTV,   2005),   receiving   hard   backlash   from  
both   Serbian   public   and   from   organizations   representing   the   mourning   families   of  
Srebrenica’s   victims   (B92   2005).   Instead   of   making   the   trip,   Tadic   resorted   to   a   political  
speech  on  the  day  of  the  commemoration  in  which  he  confirmed  Serbia’s  compliance  with  
the  Hague  judicial  process  as  well  as  denounced  the  crime  as  committed  by  Ratko  Mladic  
alone,   without   Serbian   aid   (ibid).   After   Srebrenica   was   recognized   as   a   genocide   by   the  
European   Council,   the   Serb   state   continued   to   distance   itself   from   what   Tadic   later   called   a  
“monstrous   crime”   (B92,   2010),   attempting   to   maintain   support   for   the   newly   separatist  
Republika   Srpska   in   Bosnia   through   a   series   of   visits   and   promises   of   economic  
cooperation.    
  The   current   Serbian   president,   Tomislav   Nikolic,   entered   office   with   a   history   of  
nationalist   followership   and   a   very   right-­‐wing   voter   base.   The   former   vice-­‐president   of   the  
government   of   Yugoslavia   and   Serbia   under   Milošević’s   rule,   however,   centered   his  
campaign   on   Serbia’s   European   aspirations.   Serbia   has   since   signed   an   association  
agreement  with  the  Union,  as  well  as  achieved  visa  liberalization  for  its  citizens.  Nikolic’s  
rhetoric,   however,   remains   double-­‐sided,   as   does   the   government’s   reluctance   to  
implement   EU’s   recommendations   regarding   educational   reform   and   transitional   justice  
initiatives.  In  an  interview  to  the  German  magazine  Faz,  for  example,  he  admitted  he  still  
harbored   aspirations   for   the   establishment   of   Greater   Serbia,   as   well   as   pride   over   his  
military   career   during   the   90’s   (Faz   2012).   Similarly,   while   the   Serb   state   has   publicly  
distanced  itself  from  the  crimes  committed  in  Srebrenica,  the  stance  isn’t  as  clear  cut  as  a  
clear  acknowledgement  of  the  international  and  Muslim  narrative.  “There  was  no  genocide  
in   Srebrenica,”   Tadic   asserted   in   2012   (Jutarnji,   2012).   “No   Serb   will   ever   admit   to   a  
genocide   in   Sebrenica,   and   I   won’t   either.   Karazdic   and   Mladic   are   innocent,   and   until   proven  
otherwise,  they  should  be  treated  as  such.  ”  On  another  occasion,  Tadic  questioned  the  Hague  

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judicial   process:   “The   Hague   process   is   conducted   in   the   name   of   highest   humanitarian  
values,  but  executed  according  the  so  called  notion  of  human  rights”  (Novosti  2013).  “I  once  
said   that   as   a   Četnik   [Serb   paramilitary]   I   shall   always   remain   a   Četnik,   and   that   I   will,   if  
someone  again  invites  me,  defend  Serbia  (Jutarnji  list  2012).  It  is  in  light  of  such  nationally  
reassuring   statements   that   Nikolic   presents   himself   as   a   modern   democratic   leader,  
speaking  up  critically  about  Serbia’s  role  in  the  wars  of  the  90’s  when  negotiations  with  the  
West  demand  he  does  so.  “Everything  that  has  happened  in  the  90’s  around  the  Balkans  has  
the   nature   of   genocide,   but   I   kneel   and   ask   for   forgiveness   for   Serbia   for   the   crime   committed  
in   Srebrenica,”   he   shocked   the   world   on   May   7th   2013,   earning   a   clear   approval   of   the  
European   Commissioners   and   international   press   (BBC   2013).   What   the   domestic   debate  
looks  like  resembles  nothing  of  the  highly  strategic  rhetoric  of  the  Serb  political  leadership.  
 
(3)  KAFANSKI  SVADAR  
Among   the   common   Serbian   people,   and   during   conversations   that   could   be   classified   as  
kafanski  svadar  (coffee  talk),  Srebrenica  emerges  at  the  center  of  cold-­‐war  like  conspiracy  
theories  and  assumptions  of  international  bias  against  the  Serb  nation.  All  of  them  could  be  
traced   back   to   past   and   current   Serbian   political   rhetoric,   even   though   ideas   about   the  
nation’s  victimhood  stem  most  directly  from  the  war  rhetoric  of  the  90’s.  Most  prominent  
are  mentions  of  Bratunac,  a  memorial  site  dedicated  to  the  Serb  victims  of  the  war  a  few  
kilometers   from   Srebrenica,   a   denial   of   the   massacre’s   occurrence,   and   a   complicated  
narrative  portraying  Srebrenica  as  an  anti-­‐Serbian  Muslim  plot.    Because  very  few  written  
sources   (with   the   exception   of   online   forums   and   comment   sections   of   online   Serbian  
media)   consider   these   narratives,     the   following   narratives   are   based   on   interviews   and  
interactions  with  informants  in  Belgrade  who  aren’t  part  of  the  civilno  družstvo  .    
  On   January   25th   1993   forty   nine   ethnic   Serbs   were   murdered   by   Muslim   forces   in  
the   village   of   Kravac   near   Bratunac.   Since,   the   bodies   of   3,267   (mostly   civilian)   Bosnian  
Serbs   who   lost   their   lives   in   the   area   have   been   buried   at   the   site.  “In   the   judiciary   courts   of  
Bosnia   and   Herzegovina   or   in   Hague   no   one   has   been   convicted   for   these   crimes,”   Dokic,   a  
minister  of  the  Rpublika  Srpska  federative  republic  said  (Glas  Srpske  2012).  Every  year,  the  
commemoration   is   attended   by   representatives   of   Serbia   and   Russia   as   well   as   many   Serbs  
from   the   area   and   its   political   administration.     A   deep   sense   of   injustice   prevails   in   the  

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narratives   mentioning   Bratunac.   The   bitterness   is   largely   related   to   the   lack   of  
international   attention   and   solidarity   with   the   victims   of   crimes   committed   by   the   Bosnian  
Muslims,  as  opposed  to  the  attention  focused  on  the  Muslim  wartime  suffering.                    “Our  
people  were  dying  and  suffering  too,  suffering  because  of  the  Muslims,  but  that  is  past  now.  
God  gave  us  a  great  gift  of  forgiveness,  so  why  don’t  they  make  use  of  it  as  well?,”  one  of  my  
informants   complained.   “We   apologize   to   everyone,”   another   person   said,   when   I   asked  
about  the  apology  Nikolic  made  just  a  few  months  ago  regarding  Serbian  war  crimes.  “We  
beg  everyone  for  forgiveness,  but  I  have  yet  to  hear  any  one  to  apologize  to  us.  It  is  time  that  
someone   from   the   Bosnian   government   apologizes   o   the   Serbs   who   fell   victim   to   the   crimes  
committed  by  Muslims  and  Croats.”  
  Second,   more   extreme   narrative,   presumes   that   the   Srebrenica   massacre   never  
happened,   and   was   manufactured   as   a   part   of   the   plot   to   weaken   Serbian   power   in   the  
Balkans.     “The   graves   contain   bodies   of   those   who   died   even   before   the   war,   or   at   other  
places,”   an   informant   adds   after   laying   out   his   version   of   the   story.   Part   of   a   larger  
conspiracy   theory,   this   version   is   reinforced   by   the   Serb   educational   system,   which   does  
not   include   Srebrenica   nor   other   war   crimes   committed   by   the   Serbs   into   the   public   school  
history  syllabi.    
  A   third   version   of   the   story   is   based   on   an   even   more   radical   hypothesis,   presuming  
that  the  Muslim  leadership  planned  and  executed  the  massacre  in  order  to  gain  sympathies  
of   the   West,   and   of   the   United   States   in   Particular.   Such   narrative   highlights   the   immoral  
character   of   the   Bosniak   Muslims,   and   is   often   combined   with   the   understanding   of   the  
Muslim-­‐international   conspiracy   against   the   Serbian   side.   “Alja   Izetbegovic   [the   Bosnian  
Muslim   leader]   said   to   the   former   guards   at   Srebrenica   that   Bill   Clinton   promised   him   a  
military   intervention   if   the   Serbs   come   to   Srebrenica   and   murder   at   least   5.000   Muslims,”  
another   informant   insisted.   Despite   physical   evidence   such   as   the   footage   capturing   Serb  
negotiations  with  the  Dutch  UN  peacekeepers,  or  Mladic’s  entry  into  the  city  following  the  
massacre,   these   narratives   live   on,   based   on   wider   understandings   of   the   past   and   even  
present  political  relations  between  Serbia,  its  neighbors,  and  the  world.  
 
 
 

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(4)  SERBIAN  CIVILNO  DRUŽSTVO  
As  the  reader  could  see  in  previous  sections  of  this  writing,  the  civilno  družstvo  of  Belgrade  
clearly  sides  with  the  version  of  events  presented  by  the  victims  themselves  as  well  as  by  
the  international  community.  Contradicting  the  national  narrative,  they  struggle  to  create  
space  for  the  alternative  narrative  within  Serbia  proper,  however.    An  billboard  campaign  
organized   by   Youth   Initiative   for   Human   Rights   on   the   streets   of   Belgrade   for   the   10th  
anniversary  of  the  Srebrenica  massacre  in  2005  proves  an  ideal  example  of  the  struggle  to  
introduce   the   liberal   narratives   regarding   Srebrenica   to   the   mainstream   society.   The  
billboards,   featuring   a   tasteful,   but   disturbing   black   and   white   photograph   of   a   bodily  
remain   from   Srebrenica   with   the   text   “So   that   you   see,   so   that   you   know,   so   that   you  
remember”   quickly   became   targets   to   right-­‐wing   raids   and   graffiti.   One   particular   graffiti  
read  “there  will  be  a  repetition”,  featured  next  to  the  photograph  (see  Figure  13).      
 

Figure  13,  “Srebrenica  1995-­2005  So  that  you  see,  so  that  you  know,  so  that  you  remember”    

  120  
  
AS  I  TELL  IT  
 
Even   if   narratives   related   to   Srebrenica   can   be   sorted   into   the   preceding   four   categories,  
none  of  tem  can  be  narrated  in  a  manner  universal  to  all  members  of  the  four  respective  
groups.  Rather,  the  subtle  differences  in  their  understanding  of  the   occasion  and  their  role  
in   it   are   telling   of   the   ways   in   which   identity   is   informed   by   collective   remembering   and  
mechanisms   of   ideological   change   among   individuals.   Particularly   the   case   of   the   civilno  
družstvo   in   Belgrade   was   fascinating   to   me,   because   during   the   single   trip   to   Srebrenica  
with   a   single   group   of   self   proclaimed   liberal   activists,   their   resembled   a   diverse   variety  
rather   than   a   unified   voice   resembling   of   the   slogans   they   held   up   at   the   center   of   the  
ceremony.   The   nuances   differentiating   their   understanding   of   transitional   justice,  
patriotism,  and  social  progress  are  telling  of  the  process  of  cultural  narrative  formation  and  
change  as  they  are  at  play  among  the  members  of  civilno  družstvo  in  Belgrade.  Particularly  
after   understanding   the   mechanisms   of   resistance   and   internal   sustenance   among   the  
Belgrade-­‐based   liberal   non-­‐profits,   I   was   fascinated   by   the   diversity   of   ways   in   which  
individuals   made   sense   of   the   emotionally   demanding   event.   Attending   the   Srebenica  
Anniversary   as   ‘Serbian   delegates’   of   sorts,   these   people   found   themselves   under  
extraordinary  pressure  in  a  situation  which  required  them  to  stand  up,  firm  and  exposed,  
for  an  ideology  which  some  of  them  only  just  begun  learning  about  and  accepting.    
  The   young   Serbian   activists   suddenly   found   themselves   surrounded   by   a   sea   of  
Bosnian  Muslim  praying  and  supporting  each  other,  by  weeping,  covered  Muslim  women,  
and   loud   emotional   Muslin   music:   all   stereotypical   exhibitions   of   the   Bosnian   Muslim  
culture.   Instead   of   encountering   a   dehumanized   picture   of   enemies   othered   by   the  
national(ist)  myth  for  centuries,  they  found  themselves  taking  part  in  a  ritual  celebration  
and  remembrance  of  loss  and  mourning,  sentiments  that  are  common  across  ethnic  groups  
and   identities.   The   relatable   emotion   intensified   the   experience,     suddenly   showing   the  
Bosnian  Muslim  narrative  as  tangible,  believable,  and  valid.  Even  for  those  youth  activists  
who   have   already   begun   questioning   the   Serbian   national   narrative   and   for   those   who  
came  to  ‘learn  more’,  such  experience  intensified  and  exposed  the  reality  of  contradictory  
truths.    

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   The   varying   reactions   to   such   intensive   materialization   of   political   mythologies   in  
Srebrenica   are   best   understood   in   terms   of   structural   change   as   first   established   by  
Marshall  Sahlins.  Asserting  that  “History  is  organized  by  structures  of  significance”  (1981:8),  
Sahlins   challenges   the   understanding   of   the   world   as   static,   unchanging,   composed   of   Levi-­‐
Straussean   binary   oppositions.     Instead,   Sahlins   presents   a   compelling   case   of     ‘slippage’   as  
a  source  of  change  in  individuals’  interpretation  of  the  mythical  guidelines  of  a  culture.    The  
national   narratives,   ‘structures   of   value’   construct   a   repetitive   network   of   meaning   and  
interpretations   which   are   continually   used   to   justify   the   status   quo.   Sahlins   asserts   that  
structure   (national   myth   and   collective   memory   in   this   particular   case)   become   the  
template   against   which   actual   events   are   interpreted.   The   mythical   structure   does   not  
determine,   but   merely   guides   the   behaviors   of   individuals.   Under   such   circumstances,  
slippage  can  be  carried  out  intentionally,  and  significance  and  value  of  structural  elements  
can  be  reassigned  and  altered  through  time  as  a  response  to  particular  events.    
  Inviting  such  change  in  thinking,  the  Serbian  civilno  družstvo  brings  those  willing  to  
challenge  the  structure  of  Serbian  national  myth  to  an  event  that  encourages  questioning  
and  rejection  of  the  prevailing  structure  of  meaning.  The  decision,  whether  the  event  or  the  
superimposed   national   myth   will   prevail   in   the   interpretation   of   the   world,   remains  
individual,  however.  The  materialization  of  previously  held  abstract  understandings  of  the  
past   forced   many   of   these   participating   individuals   to   reevaluate   their   convictions   and  
dedications   to   transitional   justice   or   nation.   Some   were   pushed   back   towards   defense   of  
the  Serbian  nationalist  narrative  in  the  face  of  the  materialized,  intense  representation  of  
the  liberal  ideology.  For  others,  the  event  represented  a  culmination  of  their  learning  and  
accepting  the  liberal  narrative.    
  Let  me  now  introduce  to  you  the  experience  of  six  individuals  who  participated  in  
the   trip   to   Srebrenica   on   June   11th   2013.   On   their   examples   I   wish   to   illustrate   the   wide  
range  of  motivations  for  undertaking  such  trip,  and  the  range  of  emotions  and  ideological  
challenges  that  resulted  from  attending  the  ceremony.  The  concluding  chapter  of  this  thesis  
will   elaborate   on   the   implications   of   my   ethnography,   and   illustrate   the   role   that   civilno  
družstvo  plays  in  the  process  of  ideological  change.    
 
 

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ON  THE  ROAD  
  It  was  a  dark  summer  night,  and  the  tower  bell  just  announced  4:30  am.  Women  and  
men  emerged  from  cars  hastily  parked  on  the  edges  of  empty  streets  surrounding  the  bus  
station.  They  were  sleepy,  scratching  their  eyes  and  backs,  yawning.  Dressed  in  black,  we  
assembled   in   front   of   hotel   Bristol,   women   and   men   greeting   each   other,   many   kisses   were  
distributed.   I   introduced   myself   to   those   who   arrived   earlier   -­‐   to   Igor,   who   wears   a   black   t-­‐
shirt   featuring   big,   bold   white   letters   and   numbers:   10.12.,   Day   of   Human   Rights,   and   to  
Sanja,   who   doesn’t   know   anyone   either.   She   is   an   older   woman   of   around   50,   blond,   messy  
hair  tied  into  a  pony  tail  behind  her  left  ear,  heavy  metal  earrings,  a  massive  pendant  on  a  
white   ribbon,   and   a   black   dress   cut   in   a   youthful   fashion.   We   quickly   converse   as   I   greet  
others   -­‐   namely   Alexander,   Nevena   and   Natasa   whom   I   haven’t   met   before   even   though   we  
were   all   sent   on   this   trip   by   YIHR.   While   crossing   the   street   towards   our   bus   I   notice   a  
police   car   with   three   policemen   in   uniforms   watching   the   crowd   that   assembles   on   the  
peron.      
  Thirty-­‐eight   of   us   arranged   ourselves   evenly   through   out   the   bus.   Sanja   asked   me   to  
sit   close   so   that   we   could   finish   our   conversation   and   I   took   a   seat   next   to   her   in   the   center  
of   the   vehicle.   Relaxed   Serbian   chatter   filled   the   bus,   and   the   darkness   disappeared.   Pink  
misty   fields   of   corn,   sunflowers   and   grains   soon   replaced   the   sleeping   city.   Soft   yellow  
sunlight   flickered   through   the   bus   when   I   noticed   a   strange   reflection   of   a   blue   light  
running   down   the   bus’s   aisle.   A   police   car   in   front   of   us!   When   I   asked   Sanja   about   it   the  
women  around  joined  the  conversation.  Anna,  a  youth-­‐looking  women  with  curly  dark  hair,  
laughed   and   joked   around,   provokingly   asking   for   attention.   An   elegant,   tall   and   slim  
Morgijan  in  the  seat  in  front  of  us,  revealed  that  she  works  as  a  spokesperson  for  the  Hague  
tribunal   in   Serbia.   As   we   passed   through   the   never-­‐ending   stream   of   Serbian   villages  
arranged  around  the  main  road,  a  rumor  spread  through  the  bus:  “The  police  said  no  to  a  
coffee   break!”     We   all   were   a   little   confused   as   to   whether   the   police   protection   was  
necessary,   but     some   women   said   it   puts   them   at   ease   knowing   that   the   protection   is  
available.    
  Saša,   the   woman   who   assumed   the   role   of   a   group   leader,   goes   through   the   bus’s  
aisle  with  a  large  red  plastic  bowl  of  proja  (bread-­‐like  pies  the  size  of  a  children’s  fist).  “The  
women  from  Šapac  baked  these  for  us”,  she  passed  me  one,  smiling,  after  we  shook  hands  

  123  
and  introduced  each  other.  We  passed  through  picturesque  Balkan  villages  with  tall  white  
orthodox   churches,   white   balcony   fences   and   well   kept,   fertile   gardens.   Around   7:30   we  
saw   first   men   watch   our   little   parade   pass   around,   sipping   coffee   on   plastic   chairs   of   the  
plastic-­‐looking   coffee   bars   by   the   main   street,   smoking.   They   turned   their   heads   after   us,  
interested,   but   remaining   in   their   places,   faces   neutral.   Another   batch   of   food   moved  
through  the  bus:  bags  full  of  white  bread  baguettes  with  cheese,  tomatoes  and  salad.  Those  
sitting  kept  thanking  those  distributing  the  food,  and  they  kept  repeating  -­‐  “but  of  course,  of  
course”.   We   stopped   briefly   in   one   of   the   tidy,   long   villages   laying   on   a   flat   land   called  
“Potomaca”,  and  two  more  women  entered  the  bus.      
  The   front   was   occupied   by   the   Women   in   Black.   They   called   each   other   by   names,  
chat  familiarly,  distributed  directions,  obviously  in  charge.  They  sat  calmly  throughout  the  
ride,   dressed   in   long,   black   dresses   and   elegant   black   pants   with   ceremonial   jewelry   and  
carefully  done  make-­‐up.  They  were  all  at  least  50  yearls  old.  In  the  very  back  sat  Alexander,  
Natasa   and   Nevena   and   the   younger   people   speaking   English.   They   all   wore   casual   clothes,  
mostly   non-­‐black,   and   changed   shortly   before   our   arrival   to   Potocary.   I   heard   the   young  
bearded  man  in  the  seat  behind  me  say  “I’m  now  writing  an  analysis  for  my  NGO  on  cyber  
extremism,”   as   they   spoke   about   their   professional   lives   and   the   organizations   they   work  
for.   Sanja   and   I   spoke   of   America   and   Europe.   “Ja   sam   Sarajka,   “   she   began.   “I’m   from  
Sarajevo,   but   I   spent   30   years   in   Belgrade,   married   to   a   Slovenian,   so   I’m   not   really   from  
anywhere,  just  from  the  Balkans.”  She  lives  in  Chicago  now,  where  she  directs  the  Bosnian-­‐
American   Genocide   Institute   and   Education   Center.   “I’m   so   happy   in   America.   They   have  
taken  me  in,  given  me  work.  Europe  is  build  on  lies  and  crimes,”  she  explained  why  she  feels  
happy   to   be   a   US   citizen   now.   We   spoke   in   Serbian,   though,   and   she   corrected   me   kindly  
when  I  made  mistakes.    
  The  houses  along  the  road  were  well  kept,  painted  in  pastel  colors,  and  multi-­‐store.    
We   saw     first   shadows   of   mountains   on   the   horizon   after   three   hours   of   following   the   road  
winding   through   the   flat   West-­‐Serbian   land.   A   police   convoy   surrounding   three   black  
limousines  passed,  honking,  around  our  bus.  “Was  that  Tadic?”  someone  shouted  inside  the  
bus.   “They   don’t   want   to   admit   the   crime,”   and   “He   cried   when   he   spoke   about   the  
commemoration  two  years  ago,”  I  heard  amidst  the  bus-­‐wide  conversation.  “Whoever  it  is,  
he  should  have  come  with  us,  we  have  spots  free  in  the  bus!,”  someone  says  and  the  women  

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laugh.  “That’s  where  the  Serbian  budget  goes.”  “He  was  the  first  one  [of  Serbian  presidents]  
to  go  to  Srebrenica,”  someone  said,  while  another  woman  completed  the  sentence:  “  and  the  
last  one.”  “It’s  just  this  bus  going,  no  one  else  will  be  there.  Not  even  from  Republika  Srpska,  
they  have  Srebrenica  right  where  they  are  and  yet  they  don’t  send  anybody.”    
   
SANJA  
  Sanja  and  I  talked  for  more  than  three  hours  without  interruption,  sitting  tight  next  
to   each   other.   She   encouraged   me   to   lay   my   head   on   her   shoulder   while   I   tried   to   get   some  
rest  before  what  will  sure  be  an  exhausting  day,  and  I  thought  -­‐  maybe  it’s  time  I  ask  the  
question  already,  and  I  did.  “What  motivates  you  to  go  to  Srebrenica  today?”  I  turn  to  her.    
She   responds   as   if   in   hurry   -­‐   “well,   it’s   really   quite   simple.   Think   of   those   who   are   burying  
their  dead  today,  how  much  they  suffer,  that’s  unthinkable.  Then  compare  it  to  me,  I  need  to  
go   there   to   be   with   them.”   she   pauses   briefly.   “Treba   da   to   svi   produ.”   It   is   necessary   that  
everyone   experiences   this,   she   said,   and   we   remained   silent   for   a   few   minutes.   Then   she  
looked  at  me  again,  “there  are  all  these  stories  that  make  me  hate  it  in  Serbia.  Like  when  we  
went  to  a  restaurant  and  they  apologized  for  playing  some  Turkish-­style  songs,  that  I  hate.”  A  
tear  runs  down  her  face.  She  accounted  for  two  or  three  other  times  when  she  felt  that  ‘they  
were   Cetnici,   there,   you   could   just   see   it,”   crying   silently,   obviously   disturbed.   I   apologized  
for  triggering   her,   and   she   said   it’s   alright,  that  it’s  not  my   fault.  It’s  was  first   time  someone  
I   spoke   to   has   cried,   and   I   didn’t   know   how   to   react.   I   just   sat   there,   holding   her   hand   until  
she   calmed   down.   “U   nevladnom   sektoru   svo   znaju   sve,   mi   smo   kako   druga   drzava,”   she   says  
after  a  while.  “In  the  civilno  družstvo  everyone  knows  everything.  We  are  like  a  state  within  
the  state.  We  stand  together  in  Belgrade  not  to  forget  the  past,”  she  said  at  last  and  remained  
silent  until  the  police  allowed  us  to  stop  in  a  small  motorest  coffee  shop  for  a  break.    
 
ALEKSANDAR  
  I  sat  with  Aleksandar  (20),  Natasa  (23)  and  Svetlana  (20),  the  three  remaining  YIHR  
delegates   during   the   coffee   break.   As   we   sipped   the   dark,   dense   coffee   that   you   couldn’t  
ingest  without  a  good  dose  of  sugar  and  milk,  we  talked  casually.  Piercing  my  face  intensely  
with  sharp  eyes,  Aleksandar  interrogated  me  friendly,  with  interest.  How  old  am  I,  what  do  
I  do  for  YIHR,  what  do  I  study,  what  does  it  mean.  “You  need  to  study  philosophy,  then  you  

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will  be  able  to  shake  things  up,  understand  from  a  much  more  basic  point  of  view.”  He  says  
that  Belgrade’s  faculty  of  law  is  a  ‘profasisticka  tvorevica”,  a  fascist-­‐making  workshop,  and  
when   I   laughed   and   wanted   to   write   that   down,   he   made   me   write   down  
“pronacionalisticska  tvorevica”,  a  nationalist-­‐making  workshop.    I  turned  the  tide  around  to  
learn  about  them,  too.  Aleksandar  and  Nevena  just  finished  their  first  year  at  the  political  
science   faculty   in   Belgrade.   Aleksander   is   the   only   one   of   the   tree   who   has   worked   with  
YIHR   before,   and   he   brought   his   friends   from   home   along.   They   all   live   in   the   town   of    
Smederevo,  30  minutes  away  from  Belgrade  by  public  transportation.  I  asked  what  makes  
them  come  to  Srebrenica  today,  and  then    just  wished  I  had  taken  my  voice  recorder  with  
me   from   the   bus.   They   spoke   of   how   biased   all   reporting   is   in   Serbia   and   how   they   want   to  
learn   more.   “The   media   and   everyone   speak   the   same   way   in   Serbia.   We   need   to   go   out   to  
hear  what  others  say,”  Aleksander  remarks.  “Did  you  know  that  Izbegovic  [Bosniak  Muslim  
president   during   the   war],   Milošević,   they   all   were   Tito’s   pioneers,   friends   from   childhood.  
They  would  call  each  other  every  night  during  the  war,  playing  a  game  of  checkers,”  Natasa  
said.  “We  need  to  know  what  it  really  looks  like  on  the  other  side,”  Svetlana  added.  They  were  
determined,  well-­‐spoken,  unafraid.    
 
IN  SREBRENICA  
We   could   see   crowds,   streams   of   people   walking   from   kilometers   away   in   the   direction  
where  our  bus  was  headed.  In  Potocary,  floods  of  brightly  colored  scarves  and  checkered  
skirts   and   hats.   Mud,   mud   everywhere.   Speech   by   one   important   politician   followed   by  
another,   then   imam   after   imam.   The   song   I   first   heard   the   day   before   at   a   Srebrenica  
themed   exhibit   at   the   House   of   Human   Rights   in   Belgrade   and   couldn’t   shake   off   since,  
played   again   (see   Figure   14   below).   The   singing   voice   of   a   small   girl,   accompanied   by   a  
massive   female   choir   thundered   loudly   above   the   memorial   center   from   numerous  
speakers  as  we  entered  the  site.  Carrying  a  large  funeral  bouquet  of  white  flowers  signed  as  
“Zene   u   Crnom   Srbija   za   Genocid   u   Srebrenici”,   “The   Women   in   Black   for   Genocide   in  
Srebrenica,”   the   women   pulled   out   their   ODGOVORNOST   (responsibility)   and  
SOLIDARNOST  (solidarity)  posters.  We  lined  up  by  the  8470  names  of  victims  engraved  in  
the  cold  stone  of  the  circular  memorial  wall,  and  I  found  myself  standing  in  the  very  middle,  
right  above  the  R  in  “Srebrenica,  nezaboravimo”.      

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“Bosno  moja,  ti  si  moja  mati     “My  Bosnia,  you  are  my  mother,  
Bosno  moja,  majkom  ću  te  zvati     My  Bosnia,  I  will  call  you  a  mother  
Bosno  majko,  Srebrenice  sestro     Mother  Bosnia,  Sister  of  Srebrenica,  
Neću  biti  sam   I  will  not  be  alone.  
   
Sestro,  brate,  još  vas  sanjam  svake  noći     Sister,  brother,  I  still  dream  of  you  every  night  
Nema  vas,  nema  vas,  nema  vas     You  are  missing,  you  are  missing,  you  are  missing  
Tražim  vas,  tražim  vas,  tražim  vas     I  am  looking  for  you,  looking  for  you,  looking  for  you  
Gdje  god  krenem  vidim  vas     Wherever  I  go  I  see  you  
Majko,  oče,  što  vas  nema”     Mother,  father,  why  aren’t  you  here”  
 
Figure  14  Srebrenica  Inferno  

Behind   the   monument,   families   and   mourners   of   the   dead,   in   front   of   us,   the   memorial  
statue  and  a  stand  full  of  imams  in  ceremonial  black  coats  and  white  hats.  The  media,  too.  
Two  places  to  my  right,  the  spokesperson  Sasa  gave  interviews  during  the  ceremonies,  and  
I  felt  as  if  we  were  taking  attention  away  from  those  mourning  their  dead.  Women  and  men  
in   the   group   were   holding   onto   the   posters,   staring   into   the   distance,   or   having   their   heads  
bowing   down   to   the   stone   beneath   our   feet.   We   all   wore   black   now,   some   wore   plain   black  
shirts   with   slogans   such   as   “Uvek   Neposlusne,   Zene   u   Crnom”,   “Women   in   Black,   always  
disobedient”  or  just  “Zene  u  Crnom”,  “Women  in  Black”.  The  sun  poured  on  us,  it  was  hard  to  
breathe.  We  stood  in  absolute  silence.  The  European  Commission  representative  appealed  
on   all   European   countries   to   make   11th   of   July   a   remembrance   day   for   Srebrenica.   We  
stood  still.  Behind  us  older  women  and  men  sat  on  the  top  of  the  memorial  wall,  listening,  
looking   on   the   hills,   on   our   backs.   An   enormous   camera   on   a   girrafe-­‐like   metal   neck   moved  
back   and   forth   above   our   heads.   A   big   white   screen   featured   heads   of   the   speakers,   hidden  
in  the  shade  of  a  former  factory  building  nearby.    
  On   the   hills   above   us   colorful   dots   of   people   hid   under   sun-­‐umbrellas,   digging  
graves,  sitting  on  the  green  grass,  when  all  of  the  sudden,  we  heard  thunder.  A  few  minutes  
after,   strong   rain   begun.   The   skies   cried   over   Srebrenica,   the   news   articles   said   the   day  
after.  We  stood  still  in  the  rain,  most  of  us  with  no  umbrellas  to  hide  under.  We  soaked  wet.                      
I   moved   to   the   side,   uncomfortable   with   standing   in   the   middle,   now   side   to   side   with  
Svetlana.    We  let  the  rain  soak  into  our  clothes.  What  is  rain  and  cold  shiver  to  the  suffering  
of   those   who   suffered   here   and   the   suffering   of   those   who   come   here   to   remember   that  
every  year  for  eighteenth  time,  I  thought.  I  observed  the  faces  of  the  women  that  came  on  
my   bus.   They   stood   tall,   strong,   looking   ahead   with   eyes   opened   or   closed,   most   of   them  
soaked   to   their   skin.   The   words   ODGOVORNOST   and   SOLIDARITY   stood   out   well   on   the  
black  background  even  through  the  thunderstorm.    
 
SVETLANA  
A  woman  standing  next  to  Svetlana  and  I  offered  us  one  of  her  spare  shirts  to  hide  under  
instead   of   an   umbrella   when   she   noticed   Svetlana   shivering   and   sighing.   “I   will   get   sick,   I’m  
so   wet,   I   will   get   pneumonia   and   die,”   she   cried.   We   offered   the   hiding   of   the   shirt   to   the  
woman   whose   piece   of   clothing   it   was,   but   she   refused,   standing   tall   in   the   rain   with   no  
protection,  with  a  determined,  meditative  look  on  her  face.  Svetlana  kept  wiping  water  of  
her   moist   phone   devoid   of   battery.   “Everyone   hates   us   here,”   she   told   me   while   I   held   the  
black  shirt  above  our  heads  in  front  of  all  those  mourning.    “I  will  get  sick,  I  am  soaked  wet,”  
she  continued,  asking  me  in  one  breath  ”is  my  face  ok?”-­‐“Jeli  sam  dobro?”  Her  eyes  were  wet  
now,   too,   not   because   of   the   rain.   She   turned   her   body   in   all   directions,   impatiently,   as   I  
tried  to  console  her,  caressing  her  shoulder.  “Everyone  is  hating  us  here,”  she  raised  her  chin  
towards  the  crowds  behind  us  and  surrounding  us.    I  tried  to  protest,  console  her,  tell  her  
about  the  grateful  looks  and  touches  on  the  shoulders  that  I  have  received,  the  nod  from  a  
men  older  than  my  own  grandfather,  when  I  bowed  my  head  in  front  of  him.  Svetlana  didn’t  
notice.   “My   parents   are   from   this   region,   too,   they   also   had   to   run,   they   ran   with   nothing,   not  
a   penny,   they   ran   to   Belgrade   to   be   safe.   No   one   remembers   our   dead,   they   are   not  
acknowledged.”  I  held  the  shirt  above  our  heads,  and  she  again  asked  about  her  make  up.  
“Jesi,  Jesi  dobro”,  I  told  her,  trying  to  make  her  feel  less  afraid,  waiting  for  the  rain  to  stop.  
She   was   shivering,   soaked   wet.   Svetlana   has   never   been   to   Srebrenica   before,   I  
remembered.   They   played   Bosno,   majko,   Srebrenice   sestro   again   on   the   loud   speakers   and   I  
felt  like  crying  as  well.  We  took  of  our  shoes  and  stood  in  the  pool  of  water  at  the  bottom  of  
the  memorial,  listening,  crying.    
  When  the  rain  weakened  and  just  a  few  droplets  continued  to  slide  down  our  cheeks  
Svetlana   apologized.   I   told   her   there   was   nothing   she   should   apologize   for.   I   was   still  
holding   her   hand.   The   cameras   zoomed   on   us   again,   saw   us   soaked,   wet.   They   saw   the  
women   holding   onto   the   posters   they   haven’t   dropped,   standing   silently.   After   the  
ceremony,   uninterrupted   by   rain,   concluded,   the   crowds   entered   the   central   part   of   the  

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monument,  interspersing  with  us.  A  woman  from  Majke  Srebrenice  (Mothers  of  Srebrenica)  
passed   along   the   line,   shaking   hands   with   each   one   of   us.   We   dispersed   shortly   after,  
standing   aside   of   the   monument’s   space   where   prayer   was   being   held.   Some   women   of   the  
group  smoked  and  talked.  Those  praying  turned  their  heads  in  disapproval.  We  spent  two  
more   hours   on   the   cemetery   nearby   where   small   family   services   were   being   held  
separately  for  each  grave.  Each  fresh  pile  of  soil  had  a  red  rose  pierced  into  it,  women  cried,  
some  falling  to  the  ground.  Some  women  from  Women  in  Black  hugged  and  greeted  those  
mothers   whom   they   knew   were   burying   their   sons   after   eighteen   years   of   waiting   for   their  
bodies  to  be  found.    
  We  left  Srebrenica  slowly,  in  a  convoy  of  buses  and  cars  on  a  pilgrimage  away  from  
Srebrenica.  The  bus  was  quieter,  but  not  silent.  Everyone  spoke  about  the  rain,  taking  care  
about  everyone  being  dry,  but  the  strong  sunshine  that  returned  right  after  the  rain  took  
care   of   it.   Spare   shirts   were   distributed   nevertheless.   Serbian   activists   who   biked   to  
Srebrenica   now   took   the   empty   bus   seats.   We   passed   by   orchards   of   fruit   trees   ready   to  
mature,   ruins   of   building   resembling   nothing   of   the   pastel   houses   of   West   Serbia.   We  
passed  along  Drina,  “Kičma  Srbskog  naroda”,  “the  backbone  of  the  Serb  nation”  as  Anna  says  
jokingly,  referring  to  the  war  rhetoric.    We  returned  across  the  river  back  into  Serbia.    
 
MARIJA  
Back  in  Belgrade,  I  was  looking  for  the  office  of  Women  in  Black  in  order  to  talk  to  a  couple  
of   the   women   about   their   experience   at   the   trip.   “How   are   you?   I   got   a   cold   in   Potocare,   you  
know,   my   bladder   and   all,”     Marija   says   in   one   breath   with   a   greeting   as   she   opens   the   door  
to  the  office  for  me.  There  are  no  signs  outside  the  apartment-­‐made-­‐into-­‐office,  but  inside  
the  walls  are  covered  in  posters  and  stickers.  “NO  to  fascism”  on  a  background  of  rainbow  
colors  is  one  that  stands  out  in  particular.  Six  women  at  the  office  all  seem  busy,  typing  into  
laptops,  making  coffee,  running  around,  barefoot.    
  I  sit  down  with  Marija  in  the  room  next  door.  She  brings  a  bowl  of  peanuts,  and  even  
though  the  room  is  quite  dark,  but  I  can  see  her  bright  red  hair,  cut  in  a  youthful  manner  
right  under  her  ears.  A  big  pendant  on  her  neck  competes  for  attention  with  her  deep  voice.  
She   sits   tall   on   the   bed,   her   voice   is   firm   and   straight-­‐forward,   she   isn’t   speaking   about  
these  things  for  the  first  time.  “What  activism  gives  me,  and  what  trips  like  that  one  we  did  

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last  week  make  me  feel,  is  that  my  life  isn’t  meaningless.  I  am  fulfilling  a  debt  -­  this  is  not  very  
feminist  at  all,  but  I  feel  it  anyway  -­  I  am  fulfilling  a  debt  of  history,  which  allowed  me  to  learn  
about  everything.  I  believe  that  I  have  to  pass  that  on.  Activism  allows  me  to  do  that,  it  makes  
me  feel  like  out  of  the  7  Billion  people  on  this  planet,  my  life  isn’t  the  most  meaningless  one.”    
Marija   has   been   to   Srebrenica   countless   times.   She   was   one   of   the   women   organizing   the  
trip,   speaking   to   the   media,   buying   the   flowers   and   performing   in   street   performances  
related  to  the  genocide  on  the  day  before  the  Anniversary.  She  speaks  of  the  small  role  in  
the   grand   scale   of   things   that   her   trips   to   Srebrenica   play   every   year.   “The   women   from  
Srebrenica  have  a  constant  need  to  talk.  But  Serbian  women  feel  bad  in  front  of  women  from  
Bosnia.   Our   men   came   back   as   villains,     our   youth   started   drinking   and   doing   drugs,   the  
economy  got  really  bad,  big  misfortune,  but  all  that  is  minor  when  you  compare  it  to  what  the  
women   in   Bosnia   experienced.   They   lost   kids,   everything.   …   But   our   nation   doesn’t   have  
empathy,  solidarity.  It  is  necessary  that  we  first  talk,  that  we  agree  on  one  version  of  history,  
that  we  hear  each  other  out.  It  is  important  that  we  see  each  other  deal  with  the  past.  Only  
that   way   can   reconciliation   happen.”   Marija’s   annual   experience   in   Srebrenica   is   a  
culmination  of  her  philosophy  and  a  positive  reaffirmation  of  her  believes.  “It  is  hard,  but  
we  know  it  is  necessary  that  we  go,  and  that  we  take  others  along  with  us  to  start  taking  their  
part  in  the  process  of  reconciliation.”  
 
ALEKSANDAR  AND  NATAŠA  
A   week   after   our   trip   to   Srebrenica   I   accepted   an   invitation   from   Aleksandar   and   Natasa   to  
come  visit  them  in  Smederevo.  The  town  is  about  an  hour  away  from  Belgrade,  and  famous  
for  its  war  history.  Alexandar  waited  for  me  at  the  central  bus  station.  He  spoke  resolutely  
and   decisively   about   his   city,   every   corner   was   important   to   him,   every   building.   He   paid  
for   my   entrance   to   the   remains   of   local     fortress   and   gave   me   a   lecture   in   history   of   the  
town.  “This  fortress  was  destroyed  three  times  -­  by  the  Turks,  by  the  Germans,  and  by  NATO.  
It’s  actually  disputable  if  it  was  the  Germans  or  the  British  air-­force,  but  this  fortress  has  been  
through  a  lot.”  He  knew  much  about  medieval  princes  and  kings  who  built  the  fortress  in  
the   first   place,   and   showed   me   the   buildings   of   municipal   governments,   courts   and   schools  
with  pride,  as  well  as  the  iron  ore  mines  and  refineries  nearby.  When  climbing  up  the  hill  to  
a   residential   area   we   talked   about   languages.   “You   said   you   speak   English   but   you   never  

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spoke   English   to   me,”   I   said,   because   our   conversations   were   all   in   Serbian.   “I   don’t   like  
English,   it   sounds   arrogant   and   posh   to   me.   Everyone   speaks   it!   I   prefer   French,   it’s   more  
beautiful,   rare,”   and   he,   laughing,   produced   a   sentence   in   French   about   how   French   sounds  
good.   In   such   manner,   he   reminded   me   of   the   right   wing   youth   I   interviewed   a   few   days  
earlier,  to  whom  English  was  an  imperialist  language.      
  When   we   climbed   up   the   hill   an   hour   later   and   found   the   coffee   place   where   Nataša  
works,   she   greeted   us   both   with   a   hug.   We   sat   down   over   thick,   sour   lemonade   that   Nataša  
prepared   just   minutes   ago,   and   spoke   about   Srebrenica.   “It   was   hard,”   Alexandar   kept   to  
himself.   “I   don’t   have   much   else   to   say.”   Nataša   jumped   in:   “To   me,   it   was   an   unbelievable  
feeling.   When   I   woke   up   the   next   day   I   couldn’t   believe   that   I   was   actually   there,   that   it  
happened.”   She   tried   to   explain   how   she   feels   about   seeing   and   participating   a   different  
narrative  than  her  own.    “A  person  needs  to  change,  to  accept  others.  It’s  sad,  from  one  side,  
that   I   cannot   understand   how   they   are   feeling.   I   assume   the   logic   that   I   cannot   judge   those  
people,  no  one  came  there  to  fool  around.  They  all  came  because  the  went  through  something  
so   horrible.   They   came   for   someone   they     loved   and   who   is   no   longer   with   them.”   She   tried   to    
reconcile   her   feelings   when   encountering   the   Bosnian   grieving,   emphasizing   the   human  
dimension  above  ethnic  disputes  that  she  could  identify  with,  even  if  on  a  very  superficial  
level,  because  she  never  experienced  such  loss.  Meanwhile,  Alexandar  found  his  words.  “It  
felt  like  thee  is  a  sudden  weight    on  my  shoulders.  It  was  humiliating,  in  a  way.  Humiliating  in  
the   sense   that   you   arrive,   and   suddenly   feel   humiliated   for   not   having   knowin   before.   I   am  
glad  for  having  gone,”  he  echoes  Nataša  who  said  she  felt  proud  about  having  been  there.  
Alexandar  spoke  slowly,  obviously  still  processing  the  event.    
  He  described  how  his  friends  reacted  to  the  news  of  him  going  to  Srebrenica.  “They  
try   to   understand   for   the   sake   of   our   friendship,   but   majority   of   them   are   just   not   that  
interested.  Half  of  them  didn’t  even  know  something  like  the  Srebrenica  massacre  happened.  I  
am   just   glad   that   maybe   they   did   learn   and   understand   something,   even   if   it’s   as   small   as  
acknowledging   that   bad   things   happened.”   He   explained   that   he   was   just   like   that   before  
going  to  study  in  Belgrade.  “Inicijativa  taught  me  about  these  things.  For  example,  I  had  no  
clue  that  something  similar,  just  smaller,  happened  in  Tuzla  before  the  Youth  Initiative  took  
me  there  for  a  trip.”  He  seemed  determined  to  keep  learning,  acknowledging  what  he  saw  in  
Srebrenica  as  a  valid  narrative.    

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   Nataša   concluded   the   conversation,   which   felt   slightly   uncomfortable   for   all:   “It   was  
difficult,  but  I  would  always  rather  see  something  new  than  live  under  the  impression  that  it  
was  only  your  people  who  suffered  through  something.  I’m  glad  I  got  to  see  the  other  side  as  
well.”  It  is  curiosity  that  pushed  her  to  go  and  that  will  push  her  to  ask  more  questions  in  
the   future.   The   trip   to   Srebrenica   only   strengthened   her   conviction   that   something   is  
missing  in  Serbia,  a  balanced  understanding  of  the  past,  that  is.  Nataša  was  convinced  she  
isn’t  being  told  the  entire  truth  by  the  Serbian  media  and  politicians,  and  was  determined  
to  learn  on  her  own.  We  promised  each  other  we’d  see  each  other  again  and  they  called  me  
a  cab  to  get  to  the  bus  station  on  time.  Aleksandar  insisted  on  coming  along.  “No,  no  way  
you’ll  go  by  yourself,  I  need  to  come  along,  and  make  sure  they  let  you  on  the  bus.”  We  hugged  
at  the  bus  station  and  agreed  to  see  each  other  in  August.  They’ll  come  to  Belgrade  to  visit  
me,  they  said.    
 
MIRCO  
Mirco  went  to  Srebrenica  for  the  sport  -­‐  or,  rather,  for  the  distance  between  Srebrenica  and  
Belgrade.  Signing  up  for  an  alternative  version  of  the  trip,  he  was  looking  forward  to  biking  
the   entire   way.   Living   for   the   wind   that   blows   around   his   face   when   sailing   the   sea,   he  
wasn’t   your   typical   activist   on   his   way   to   materializing   reconciliation   or   supporting  
someone  else  though  their  pain.  Instead,  he  was  interested  to  see  for  himself,  unconvinced  
about  the  size  of  the  massacre,  but  hoping  to  nevertheless  show  his  respect  to  the  victims.  
We  spoke  on  skype  about  a  month  after  the  trip,  and  Mirco  felt  bitter.  “I  feel  used,”  he  said  at  
the   very   beginning   of   our   conversation.   “No   one   warned   me   that   we   would   act   as   a  
propaganda  machinery  on  the  way  to  Srebrenica,  I  went  into  it  for  the  sports.”  He  spoke  of  
the   police   protection   that   he   found   absolutely   unnecessary   and   sensationalist.   “And   still,   no  
media  from  Serbia  paid  attention  to  us  anyway.”    
  The   trip   confirmed   the   suspicions   about   Women   in   Black   and   Srebrenica   that   he  
harbored  even  before  he  first  sat  on  his  bike.  “I  was  the  single  straight  person  on  the  trip,”  he  
assumed   with   security,   echoing   the   old   Serbian   narrative   of   homosexuality   as   inherently  
anti-­‐Serbian,   also   described   by   Bringa   (2005b).   She   notes   that   homosexuality   was   often  
ascribed  to  Bosnian  Muslims  as  a  means  of  demeaning  their  masculinity,  weakening  their  
strength   in   the   eyes   of   the   Serbian   forces.   “The   ceremony   itself   was   a   nice   gathering,   but   the  

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drama   was   unnecessary.   Instead   there   should   be   something   to   bring   people   together,   for  
example   creating   a   ceremony   together   with   families   of   the   Serbs   killed   in   Bratunac   just   a   few  
kilometers   away   from   Srebrenica.”   Mirco   was   critical   of   the   ceremony’s   value   for  
reconciliation.  “The  truth  is  always  in  the  middle.  You  can’t  blame  one  side  for  everything.  I  
agree  that  we  should  meet  and  talk,  but  that’s  not  in  the  interest  of  the  politicians,  still.  That’s  
why   they   create   the   big   show,   the   drama,   to   raise   more   walls   and   scare   Serbs   away   from  
Srebrenica.”   He   saw   the   event   as   a   small   drop   in   the   sea   of   political   interests.   “They  
interviewed  me  during  the  ceremony,  but  of  course,  did  not  publish  it.  I  said  that  I  hope  people  
will  not  be  manipulated  again,  and  using  the  word  ‘manipulated’  obviously  wasn’t  in  line  with  
their  story.”  Mirco  doesn’t  believe  genocide  occurred  in  Srebrenica,  either.  “I  agree  that  it  
was  definitely  a  crime,  but  if  it  were  a  genocide,  they  wouldn’t  let  anyone  get  out  alive.”  The  
size   of   the   memorial   wall   listing   the   victims’   names   did   not   disturb   him.   “I’m   still   not  
convinced   that   the   Muslims   didn’t   stage   this.   It   was   a   non-­militarized   zone,   who   would   attack  
a  non-­militarized  zone?!,”  he  wondered  as  we  concluded  our  conversation.  It  seems  that  the  
trip   did   not   swing   him   from   his   feet,   firmly   rooted   in   a   different   understanding   of   the  
conflict.  Repeating  many  of  the  stories  I  heard  from  my  right-­‐wing  activist  informants,  he,  
while  declaring  himself  to  be  neutral,  seems  to  prove  that  experiencing  a  mourning  ritual  
such   as   that   in   Srebrenica,   doesn’t   necessarily   translate   into   a   formative   experience   of  
challenging  one’s  convictions.  We  ended  out  interview  on  a  friendly  note.    
-­‐-­‐-­‐  
 
Initially   I   wasn’t   sure   how   my   trip   to   Srebrenica   with   Women   in   Black   will   fit   with   the   rest  
of  ethnography  I  collected  in  Belgrade  over  the  summer  of  2013.  Looking  back,  however,  I  
understand   that   having   been   able   to   observe   and   talk   to   my   informants   from   civilno  
družstvo   about   the   experience   presented   a   unique   opportunity   to   see   them   crossing   the  
boundaries   of   national   narratives   in   practice.   The   experience   and   the   chapter   illustrated  
well   that   re-­‐formulation   and   re-­‐negotiation   of   the   national(ist)   narratives   is   not   only   a  
collective,   but   also   an   intimate,   personal   process.   In   Belgrade   the   youth   activists   were  
questioning   the   Serbian   national   narrative   in   the   safety   of   the   civilno   družstvo,   and  
determining   the   pace   at   which   they   could   reject   and   re-­‐formulate   for   themselves   the  
dominant   narratives.   In   Srebrenica,   however,   these   individuals   were   exposed   to   the  

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alternative   narrative   directly,   in   an   emotionally   powerful   manner,   and   individually   -­‐  
because   the   youth   activists   present   were   sent   as   representatives   of   multiple   other   NGOs,  
the  collective  they  were  used  to  seeking  comfort  in  was  not  there  to  support  them.  Those  
from  civilno  družstvo  who  are  admired  by  the  newly  involved  volunteers  and  who  generally  
offer   guidance   and   support   to   them   in   their   questioning   and   learning   did   not   participate   in  
the   trip   because   they’ve   done   it   many   times   before   and   the   number   of   participants   was  
limited.    
  While   for   some,   the   trip   served   as   a   culmination   of   their   learning   and   questioning  
the  dominant  narratives,  for  others  the  trip  was  so  disturbing  that  they  sought  safety  in  the  
old   Serbian   national(ist)   narratives.   For   Marija   the   annual   Commemoration   ceremony  
presents   an   opportunity   to   act   on   her   firmly   grounded   beliefs   and   yearly   re-­‐confirm   that  
what   she   argues   for   in   the   hostile   public   space   in   Belgrade   does   have   true   meaning   and  
value.   For   those,   whose   beliefs   and   narratives   about   the   past   and   present   are   not   yet  
solidified,   however,   such   experience   can   prove   (   as   in   Svetlana’s   experience)     to   be   so  
shocking  that  instead  of  fully  embracing  the  alternative  narratives,  one  may  -­‐  in  a  moment  
of   personal   panic   -­‐   react   in   a   completely   opposite   way,   seeking   refuge   in   something  
engrained   deep   in   one’s   identity   and   belief   system.   Both   Svetlana   and   Mirco,   have   been  
reluctant  to  engage  with  the  civilno  družstvo  further  after  the  trip.  Not  all  the  younger  youth  
activists  who  were  new  to  the  alternative  thinking  had  a  negative  experience  which  would  
deter   them   from   pursuing   the   “questioning”   further,   however.   I   haven’t   been   able   to  
determine   what   specific   factors   were   crucial   in   predicting,   how   one   will   react   to   such  
challenging   and   emotional   experience.   However,   being   aware   of   the   risks   that   exposing  
relatively  inexperienced  youth  activists  to  such  intensive  undergoing  should  encourage  the  
civilno  družstvo  to  prepare  them  better  for  the  experience  in  the  years  to  come.    
 

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 CHAPTER  6:  

CONCLUSION  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
In   this   thesis   I   presented   and   discussed   how   contemporary   Serbian   youth   navigate   the  
legacy   of   the   Serbian   national(ist)   myth.   Specifically,   I   focused   on   the   experiences   of   the  
liberal  youth  activists  in  Belgrade,  who  collectively  as  well  as  individually  resist  this  myth,  
creating  alternative  narratives,  and  offering  them  to  the  public  as  an  alternative  framework  
for    understanding  of  Serbian  identity,  history,  and  nation.    
  Human   cultures   always   have   and   presumably   always   will   facilitate   individuals’  
participation   in   and   understanding   of   the   social   world.   Some   individuals   will   live   their  
entire  lives  happily  employing  the  dominant  cultural  frameworks  surrounding  them  while  
others   will,   for   whatever   particular   reason,   attempt   to   create   and   sustain   alternatives   to  
those   dominant   frameworks.   The   process   of   questioning   and   redrawing   such   cultural  
‘maps’  will  always  be  a  deeply  intimate,  emotionally  demanding,  and  a  socially  challenging  
experience.    Having  a  better  understanding  of  these  processes  hopefully  ought  to  highlight  
that  all  those  who  engage  in  public  activism  and  war  of  mythical  narratives,  whichever  side  
they   represent,   harbor   good   intentions   and   work   to   make   their   society   come   as   close   to  
their  mythical  ideals  as  possible.    
  The   first   question   I   posed   to   myself   at   the   beginning   of   my   research   was,   why   do  
Serbian  youth  continue  to  hold  onto  these  national(ist)  narratives,  originating  in  the  war-­‐
time  rhetoric  of  the  entire  20th  century?  Chapters  One  and  Two  were  largely  dedicated  to  
answering   precisely   such   question.   I   showed   that   the   young   Serbian   generation,   born  
during   or   after   the   break   up   of   Yugoslavia   in   the   1980’s   and   90’s,   experiences   a   strong  
sense  of  stagnation,  economic  struggle,  and  an  acute  lack  of  direction  for  the  future.  Their  
situation   is   largely   a   product   of   Serbia’s   decades-­‐long   process   of   transitioning   from  
Socialism   and   from   conflict,   neither   of   which   are   close   to   complete.   The   insecurities   of  
transition,   supplemented   with   media   influence,   state   schooling,   as   well   as   specific   forms   of  
youth   pop-­‐culture,   encourage   the   youth   to   embrace   the   old   national(ist)   myth   as   an  
explanation,   justification,   and   solace   for   their   frustrations.   The   youth   then   adapt   this   myth,  
expanding  the  narratives  to  suit  their  particular  living  experience,  and  employing  them  as  
guiding  principles  for  their  pursuit  of  social  and  material  progress.  
  Secondly,   I   was   interested   to   know   more   about   how   the   young   liberal   activists   in  
Serbia   are   engaging   with   and   transforming   these   national(ist)   narratives.   Subjected   to  
similar  influences  like  the  majority  of  youth,  these  young  activist  come  to  be  critical  of  the  
national(ist)   narratives   for   a   multitude   reason:   be   it   a   “gene   for   justice”,   as   Ruža,   one   of   my  
informants  suggested,  liberal  family  influence,  or  personal  experience  with  discrimination.  
The   young   liberal   activists   question   and   replace   segments   of   the   national(ist)   narratives  
with   frameworks   such   as   transitional   justice,   human   rights,   and   responsibility.   They  
believe   precisely   such   frameworks   will   provide   them   and   the   next   generations   in   Serbia  
with   a   roadmap   to   a   better   future.   I   described   their   ideological   frameworks   in   detail   in  
chapter  Four.    
  In   the   last   chapter,   I   sought   to   illustrate   the   complex   collective-­‐personal   nature   of   the  
process   of   questioning   the   myth   and   developing   trust   in   the   alternative   narratives.    
Focusing   on   a   single   historical   controversy   related   to   a   single   contemporary   event,   I  
showed   that   just   as   big   groups   and   institutions   maintain   contradictory   convictions,   the  
individuals   exposed   to   these   contradictions   struggle   to   reconcile   the   opposing   narratives  
within  themselves.  
 
THEORETICAL  CONCLUSIONS  
  Looking  back  at  my  work,  I  see  its  primary  value  precisely  in  the  description  of  the  
process  of  questioning  of  the  old  narratives,  and  the  formulation,  sustenance,  and  spread  of  
new,   alternative   ideologies.   -­‐   the   process   of   ideology   re-­‐formulation   among   the     activists   of  
civilno   družstvo.   I   observed   individuals   and   collectives   at   various   stages   of   negotiating,  
adopting,  and  advocating  for  new,  alternative  meanings  and  interpretations  of  their  social  
context.    The  liberal  youth  activists  at  different  stages  of  this  process  engaged  in  personal  
and   collective   negotiations   and   learning   (such   as   coming   up   with   graffiti   slogans   or  

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discussing  daily  political  events  with  one  another),  and  took  part  in  actions,  which  pushed  
them   to   take   a   clear   public   stance.   At   times,   I   observed   activists   who   have   just   recently  
begun   the   process   of   questioning   the   national(ist)   narratives   take   parts   in   actions   which  
clearly  forced  them  to  represent  a  stance  they  didn’t  yet  fully  embrace  (e.g.  the  Srebrenica  
Commemoration  Ceremony),  and  the  risks  and  benefits  that  such  premature  participation  
carried.    
  The   most   distinguished   feature   of   the   process   was   the   manner   in   which   common  
language   of   liberalism   developed   among   the   members   of   civilno   družstvo.   I   noticed   the  
activists’   frequent   use   of   ‘talking   points’,   teaching   formulations   and   segments   of  
information  from  the  new  liberal  narratives  which  were  repeated  over  and  over  again,  easy  
to   remember   and   share   with   others.   In   chapter   four,   for   example,   I   included   Maša’s  
question  to  Jasmina,  “How  do  we  usually  explain  it  [our  responsibility  to  act]?”  (p.86).    
   
“I   think   it’s   very   important   to   think   for   ourselves   and   in   our   own   way.     That’s  
something   that   I   started   to   learn   recently   and   try   to   do   either   in   my   personal  
relationships   and   in   my   activist   work.   Not   to   use   the   talking   points,   because   at  
one  point  that  was  important  and  that’s  how  we  did  our  campaigns,  that’s  how  
campaigns   are   generally   done.   If   we   were   talking   about   HR   violations   in   the  
Balkans  in  the  1990’s  would  talking  about  that,  that,  that  and  that.  And  if  this,  
it’s   that,   that,   and   that.   And   most   of   those   talking   points   come   from   some   higher  
level.  It’s  probably  that  either  all  the  NGOs  agreed  on  something,  or  most  of  the  
NGOs   that   work   in   human   rights   that’s   how   they   approach   it,   so   that’s   how   we’ll  
approach   it,   or   simply   the   liberal   view   point   is   this   and   that’s   simply   the   position  
that  you  take  up  even  if  you  have  not  completely  thought  through  that  specific  
topic.  That’s  what  I’m  trying  to  do  differently  now.”  -­‐  Muta  
   
While  Muta,  member  of  Youth  Initiative  for  Human  Rights,  is  skeptical  about  the  “talking  
points’,  I  found  that  the  practice  played  an  important  role  in  both  the  internal  and  external  
resistance  of  civilno  družstvo.  First,  the  “talking  points”  served  to  simplify  the  alternative  
narratives  into  a  simple,  coherent  set  of  arguments  to  be  presented  to  the  public.  Secondly,  
however,  this  set  of  facts  and  explanations  was  perpetually  repeated  and  taught  to  the  new  
members  of  civilno  družstvo  through  events  of  external  and  internal  resistance.  Assisting  
new  volunteers  and  activists  to  grasp  the  alternative  narratives  formulated  and  promoted  
by  the  civilno  družstvo,  these  ‘talking  points’  made  it  easier  for  those  new  to  the  civilno  
družstvo  to  connect  with  those  long  active  over  a  shared  rhetoric,  and  to  explain  their  

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newly  adapted  narratives  to  those  outside  of  the  civilno  družstvo  and  justify  their  presence  
in  the  highly  controversial  circles.  With  such  rhetoric  available  for  emulation,  a  young  
activist  might  engage  in  the  intimate  internal  process  of  questioning,  rejecting  the  previous  
frameworks  of  understanding  the  world  while  presenting  a  rhetoric  of  mature  
understanding  and  acceptance  of  the  alternative  ideology.  “I  really  appreciate  that  they  
gave  me  the  time  I  needed  to  learn  about  all  these  things  I  knew  nothing  about  before.  I  was  
able  to  digest  everything  at  my  own  pace,  and  everyone  was  always  very  supportive  of  me  
trying  to  reformulate  the  way  that  I  see  the  world,  and  the  past  especially,”  Anita  was  grateful  
that  for  the  time  and  space  that  the  NGO  provided  to  renegotiate  her  personal  believes  
about  Serbian  past  and  present  on  her  own.  

 
Figure  15  The  process  of  Ideology  re-­formulation  among  the  civilno  družstvo's  new  activists  

 
  This   personal   transition   is   a   time   demanding   process   that   is   sustained   through   the  
shared  social  dimension  of  the  civilno  družstvo.  Ideologies  aren’t  exclusive.  Rather,  they  are  
sets   of   ideas,   concepts,   and   visions   of   the   world,   which   can   be   combined,   working  
simultaneously  within  individuals.  While  in  the  process  of  negotiating  between  two  sets  of  
narratives,   therefore,   the   young   activists   benefit   from   the   shelter   and   space   open   to  
dialogue   that   is   provided   by   the   organizational   structure   of   the   civilno   družstvo.   The  

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organizations   within   civilno   družstvo   thus   serve   not   only   to   impact   the   wider   public,   but  
also   to   provide   conditions   encouragement   for   the   activists’   individual   processes   of    
negotiating   between   two   opposing   sets   of   narratives,   and   internalizing     the   alternative  
ideology  (see  figure  on  the  previous  page).  
  The  existence  and  work  of  civilno  družstvo  should  thus  be  understood  as  a  mechanism  
for   creation   and   sustenance   of   the   alternative   narratives.   In   anthropological   sense,   the  
civilno  družstvo  facilitates  the  formation  and  nourishment  of  individual  as  well  as  collective  
ideology.   The   alternative   ideology,   then,   serves,   in   the   words   of   Geertz,   to   “render  
otherwise   incomprehensible   social   situations   meaningful,   to   construe   them   as   to   make   it  
possible   to   act   purposefully   within   them”(1973:220),   replacing   an   old   set   of   frameworks  
among  those  who  began  questioning  the  national  myth,  rendering  it  impotent.  By  learning  
the   new   ideology   of   liberalism,   the   new   members   of   civilno   družstvo   begin   to   understand  
the   social   situation   and     sense   of   stagnation   they   experienced   in   the   past   in   more  
meaningful   sense,   and   begin   to   learn   how   to   stand   up   to   the   dominant   nationalist  
discourse.  
 
THE  IMPACT  OF  CIVILNO  DRUŽSTVO  
After   the   conclusion   of   my   research   process,   one   question   remained   unanswered   (or  
perhaps,   unanswerable),   and   that   is,   to   what   extent   does   the   civilno   družstvo   matter?   My  
informants,  too,  wrestled  with  the  question,  and  struggled  to  find  ways  of  articulating  what  
a  visible  influence,  a  proof  of  positive  impact,  would  look  like.  Does  what  they  do  make  a  
difference?   Many   of   them   expressed   frustration   with   not   being   able   to   observe   direct  
results   of   their   hard   work.   “What   you   are   trying   to   influence   is   always   so   complex,   and   if   you  
achieve   an   impact   the   end   result   will   influence   other,   more   nuanced   things   ..   but   you   can  
never   see   the   large-­scale   results   on   the   ground   and   track   them   back   to   you   with   certainty,”  
Muta   shared   with   me.   Because   of   its   complexity   and   focus   on   the   abstract   individual  
ideologies,   the   impact   of   civilno   družstvo   can   never   be   observed   as   a   direct   result   of   my  
informants’  work,  and  changes  in  the  society  cannot  be  traced  back  to  their  programming.    
  Perhaps   because   it   is   hard   to   directly   attribute   societal   change   to   the   liberal   activists’  
work,   the   rare,   brief   papers   focusing   on   the   liberal   NGO   circles   in   Serbia   are   vaguely  
skeptical  about  their  influence.  Obradovic-­‐Wochnik  (2013),  for  example,  writes  about  the  

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civilno  družstvo  as  an  exclusionary  space,  asserting  that  civilno  družstvo  divides  the  public  
“into   polar   opposites   of   those   who   do   and   those   who   don’t   accept   the   past“   (217),   and  
therefore  limits  its  own  influence.  While  the  author  does  acknowledge  that  the  process  of  
exploring,   understanding,   and   accepting   the   past   is   “fragmented,   contradictory,  
inconsistent,   and   messy”(218),   she   does   not   consider   of   civilno   družstvo   to   be   a   space  
where   such   complicated   identity   and   ideological   conflicts   could   be   negotiated   and  
facilitated  by  and  for  anyone  who  finds  themselves  questioning  the  national  myth.  Ostojic  
(2013),  on  the  other  hand,  deems  the  civilno  družstvo  to  be  counterproductive.  “Instead  of  
reckoning   with   the   past,   the   confrontational   strategy   deployed   by   the   human   rights   groups  
reinforces   political   resistance   to   the   acknowledgment   of   [Serbian   war   crimes   and   HR  
violations],”  she  writes  (240),  asserting  that  the  civilno  družstvo’s  affiliation  with  western  
transitional  justice  and  human  rights  institutions  undermines  their  efforts.    
  The  activists  themselves  do  have  insecurities  regarding  the  impact  of  their  work  and  
are   aware   of   the   aspects   of   their   work   which   might   be   alienating   to   some.   “Instead   of  
spending  time  gently  negotiating  our  public  presence,  we  act.  There  is  no  way  that  everyone  
will   like   us   and   agree   with   us   even   before   we   start.   Then   there   would   be   no   work   to   do,”  
Jasmina  told  me.    The  activists  from  civilno  družstvo    assert  that  impact,  while  undetectable  
in   the   society   at   large,   is   overwhelmingly   apparent   on   the   personal   level.   “You   do   see  
individual   change,   and   that   is   what   makes   the   work   worth   doing,“   Muta   told   me   after  
expressing   his   frustrations   with   the   visibility   of   impact   on   the   higher   level.   Many   others  
mentioned   programs   and   events   that   allowed   them   to   see   immediate   change   in   their  
participants’  thinking  about  the  past  and  present.  Maša,  in  addition  to  individuals  changing,  
learned  to  find  motivation  and  gratification  in  the  small  changes  she  observes  in  her  daily  
life.    
“’How   do   you   plan   to   measure   your   influence   with   this   project?’   people   often   ask  
me.   And   so   I   tell   them   -­   if   I   have   a   daughter   in   a   ten   year’s   time,   and   she   decided  
to  cut  her  hair  off,  and  if  she  realizes  that  she  is  a  lesbian,  if  she  can  go  with  her  
girl   friend,   sit   and   kiss   in   a   café,   I   will   know   that   we   succeeded.   And   that’s   the  
way   that   I   am   going   to   measure   things.   We   don’t   have   exact   results   and  
numbers.  Reducing  the  numbers  of  Nazis  [right  wing  activists],  for  example,  you  
cannot  do  that.  You  don’t  have  the  power  to  do  that,  there  is  too  few  of  us.  You  
are   not   competing   in   elections   to   see   whether   you’ve   done   a   good   campaign   or   a  
bad   one.   But   you   can   see   a   change   in   people.   You   can   see   change   strolling  
through  your  Facebook  newsfeed.  We  will  see  if  we  have  a  Pride  parade  this  year,  

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 if  it  isn’t  banned,  that’s  a  step.  It’s  a  progress.  And,  we  will  see  the  reaction  of  the  
people,  too.  The  change  is  visible  in  these  small  things.“  
 
Ultimately,    this  research  does  not  aspire  to,  and  cannot  evaluate  the  effectiveness  of  civilno  
družstvo’s   pursuits.   My   conclusions   about   the   function   of   civilno   družstvo   as   a   space  
facilitating  individual  and  collective  negotiation  and  conflict  between  narratives,  however,  
sheds   light   on   the   potential   of   the   liberal   activist   circles   to   serve   a   space   of   dialogue   for   the  
society  at  large.    
 
LIMITATIONS  
Before   I   begin   speculating   about   the   contributions   of   my   work,   I   ought   to   briefly  
acknowledge   its   limitations.   First,   naturally,   my   findings   are   limited   due   to   the   time  
constraints   on   my   fieldwork.   Entering   the   field   with   a   naïve   hope   to   cover   most   if   not   all   of  
the  issues  affecting  today’s  youth  in  Serbia,  I  spent  plenty  of  time  pursuing  topics  which  I  
wasn’t   ultimately   able   to   cover   in   my   analysis.   While,   I   assume,   this   is   true   for   any   field  
work,  I  hope  that  in  the  future  I  will  be  able  to  go  deeper  rather  than  broader.  Secondly,  my  
positionality,   which   I   briefly   touched   on   in   chapter   One,   needs   to   be   considered.   As   a  
Westerner  and  someone  with  a  history  of  social  justice  activism,  I  was  naturally  inclined  to  
create   deeper   connections   with   my   informants   from   the   civilno   družstvo   because   I   was    
likely  to  identify  with  their  experiences  as  well  as  ideologies.  I  arrived  to  Belgrade  aware  of  
such   challenge,   however,   and   remained   conscious   and   correcting   for   it   through-­‐out   my  
stay.   Third,   if   I   were   to   repeat   this   work   again,   I   would   have   included   more  
interdisciplinary   works   on   identity   and   ideology   formation   from   the   field   of   social  
psychology.   My   conclusions   regarding   the   civilno   družstvo’s   role   as   a   facilitator   for  
collective   and   individual   re-­‐formulation   of   ideology   would   also   have   benefited   from  
interaction  with  literature  on  similar  cases.    
 
IMPLICATIONS  AND  IDEAS  FOR  FUTURE  RESEARCH
This   thesis   connects   with   various   broader   questions   in   the   social   sciences.   It   provides  
insights   into   contemporary   youth   culture   in   the   Balkans,   as   well   as   into   the   specific  
experiences   youth   have   with   nationalism,   post-­‐conflict,   and   post-­‐socialist   transition.  

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Largely   understudied,   these   topics   are   crucial   for   our   understanding   of   the   legacies   of  
conflict   and   socio-­‐economic   transition   across   generations.     Awareness   of   the   socio-­‐cultural  
mechanisms   at   play   among   the   youth   in   such   circumstances   might   increase   our   ability   to  
predict  future  developments  in  societies  with  similar  characteristics.  Correspondingly,  the  
civilno   družstvo   and   other   liberal   activist   groups   in   comparable   societies   might   welcome  
the   anthropological   insight   in   order   to   improve   the   effectiveness   of   their   operations   and  
mitigate  the  associated  risks  (e.g.  exposing  an  activist-­‐beginner  to  a  traumatic  experience  
comparable  to  Srebrenica  early  in  the  process  of  their  ideological  transformation  without  
preparation  and  caution).  
  The   primary   purpose   of   this   research   was   to   give   voice   and   document   the   experience  
of  the  youth  and  liberal  youth  activists  in  contemporary  Serbia.  As  such,  the  ethnography  
made   use   of   established   theories   and   writings   in   anthropology   and   also   political   science,  
contributing  to  the  thin  collection  of  literature  debating  the  post-­‐conflict,  and  post-­‐socialist  
experience   of   modern   youth.   The   experience   of   living   in   a   society   which   largely   rejects  
one’s  ideology,  identity,  and  vision  of  progress  is  clearly  shared  by  many  in  this  world.  Such  
clashes  of  myths  and  narratives,  I  imagine,  will  become  only  more  prominent  in  times  when  
Western   and   Westernizing   societies   offer   increasing   opportunities   for   the   creation   of  
ideological  niches  and  instances  of  ‘group-­‐think’  among  the  youth  (such  as  privatization  of  
education,   diversifying   media,   and   individualization   of   social   media   experience,   among  
others).     While   the   specifics   of   the   Serbian   case   are   very   closely   inter-­‐related   with   the  
region’s   past   traumas,   I   believe   certain   aspects   of   the   civilno   družstvo’s   experience   are  
transferable   to   other   ‘alternative   collectives’   around   the   world.   My   conclusions   about   the  
functionality   of   civilno   družstvo   could   thus   be   useful   in   future   research   of   liberal   resistance  
groups  and  collectives  elsewhere  in  the  world.    
  Beyond   topical   innovativeness,   however,   this   research   might   possibly   contribute   to  
the   debates   in   anthropology   by   showcasing   the   connection   between   the   theoretical  
concepts   of   ideology   and   nationalism.   Connecting   the   two   allowed   me   to   observe   and  
analyze  nationalism  as  a  live,  fluid,  individually  as  well  as  collectively  formulated  ideology.  
  While   writing   this   thesis   I   was   often   frustrated   by   single-­‐sidedness   of   many   sources  
related   to   the   Balkan   conflicts   or   even   the   region   at   large.   While   the   lingering   legacy   of  
conflicting   ideological   frameworks   and   related   data   offers   an   ideal   laboratory   for   making  

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grand   arguments   related   to   war,   peace,   and   reconciliation,   too   many   scientists   omit   to  
consider   the   complex   contradictions   of   the   Balkan   case   in   the   interest   of   simplification   and  
clarity   of   their   argument   (especially   in   the   fields   of   history   and   political   science).   The  
messy,   inconsistent,   and   unresolved   Balkan   reality,   however,   isn’t   conductive   to   making  
perfectly   rounded   and   universally   valid   claims.   Picking   and   choosing   from   a   selection   of  
contradictory   “truths”   and   versions   of   events   available   in   order   to   construct   a   seemingly  
bulletproof   argument   about   post-­‐conflict   reconstruction   in   general   serves   neither   the  
academia,   nor   the   practitioners   or   local   populations.   I   would   be   delighted   to   see   the  
discipline  of  anthropology  assume  a  lead  role  in  bringing  more  humility  into  the  study  of  
phenomena  that  aren’t  clearly  understood  even  by  those  who  experienced  them.      
  Even   after   more   then   hundred   and   forty   pages   of   writing,   many   questions   remain  
unanswered.   First   comes   to   mind   the   role   of   Orthodox   Church   in   promoting   the  
national(ist)   myth.   Had   I   had   more   time   and   connections   in   the   religious   circles   in   Serbia,   I  
would   have   been   interested   to   examine   the   role   of   the   Church   in   the   lives   of   modern  
Serbian   youth,   as   well   as   the   cooperation   between   the   State   and   the   Church.   During   my  
stay,   the   activists   from   the   Youth   Initiative   for   Human   Rights   successfully   attempted   to  
legally  dispute  the  obligatory  conversation  with  an  Orthodox  Priest  prior  to  every  abortion.  
A   study   of   such   dynamics   as   well   as   of   the   relationship   between   nationalism   and   Church  
would  be  extremely  interesting  additions  to  the  work  that  I  was  able  to  complete.  Another  
idea   for   further   research,   quite   predictably,   concerns   the   right-­‐wing   youth   activism.   As   a  
result  of  limited  time,  connections,  and  complicated  positionality,  my  research  covers  only  
the  contours  of  the  existence  and  experience  of  the  organized  nationalist  youth  groups.  In  
the   future   I   might   be   interested   in   seeing   or   creating   a   study   which   would   examine   the  
mechanisms  of  ideological  reinforcement  and  radicalization  among  the  conservative  youth  
in  Serbia.    
 
 
—-­‐  
 
 

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 APPENDIX  
THE  SEMI-­‐STRUCTURED  INTERVIEW  QUESTION  LIST  
 
The  Questions  I  planned  to  ask  during  my  interviews  with  youth  activists  in  the  field:  
   
A.    PERSONAL  
1. Could  you  tell  me  about  yourself?  (Age,  education  -­‐  major,  occupation)  
2. What  do  you  aspire  to  in  life?  Where  do  you  imagine  yourself  in  ten,  fifteen  years?  
 
B.    Personal  INVOLVEMENT  with  issue/NGO
3. Please  tell  me  about  how  your  interest  in  social  issues  began?    
4. How  is  the  non-­‐formal  education  you  received  different  from  the  official  state  
education?  
5. What  issue(s)  in  particular  interest(s)  you  most?  
6. One  issue  only?  Multitude?  Mindset?  
7. Do  you  have  any  specific  goals  when  it  comes  to  your  work?    
8. How  did  you  first  learn  about  this  NGO?  
9. Could  you  tell  me  more  about  what  motivated  you  to  begin  working  with  them?  
10. Are  you  separating  your  work  from  your  personal  life?  (The  Personal  is  Political)  
11. What  does  your  family  think  about  your  involvement  in  the  NGO?  Your  friends?    
12. Are  you  able  to  address  your  biggest  concerns  about  Serbian  society  through  your  
work?  
13. Could  you  describe  the  mission  of  the  NGO  to  me?  
14. How  do  you  think  this  NGO  is  like  in  comparison  to  other  similar  organizations?    
 
C.  VALUES  
15. What  are  the  issues  in  Serbian  society  that  are  of  biggest  importance  today?  
16. What  is  most  important  about  your  work,  you  think?  
17. Is  there  any  ideology  that  you  subscribe  to?  
18. What  does  liberalism  mean  to  you?    
 
D.  The  SILENT  MAJORITY    
19. How  many  people  do  you  think  see  things  similarly  to  you?  
20. What  is  the  main  difference  between  yourself  and  them?  How  did  that  happen  that  
you  are  different?  
21. How  does  someone  remain  silent?  How  are  they  comfortable?  
22. Who  do  you  think  the  average  Belgrade  citizen  is?  
23. (…  the  average  rural  Serbian?)  
24. What  do  you  think  are  they  mainly  concerned  about?  (Serbia,  the  future)  
25. How  well  do  you  think  these  align  with  the  rhetoric  of  politicians  and  media?  
26. How  does  the  NGO  sector  interact  with  the  majority?  EXAMPLE  
27. Actions:  how  do  people  react  -­‐  the  mechanics,  who  comes,  who  comments  EXAMPLE  
28. How  do  the  Serbian  people  see  the  NGO/the  liberal  movement  
 
 

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E.  Relationship  with  the  RIGHT  WING  Activists  
29. Who  are  they?  
30. What  does  ‘right’  mean?  What  do  they  stand  for?  
31. How  and  why  do  they  become  right-­‐wingers?  
32. Do  you  have  a  choice  to  become  right  or  left  or  is  it  given  by  family/edu..?  
33. Where  do  you  meet  the  right  wingers?  EXAMPLE  
34. How  do  you  interact  with  the  right-­‐wingers?  The  ‘Nazi’s?    
35. Your  actions  -­‐  how  do  they  react?  Do  they  hear  you?  Do  you  listen  to  them?  
36. What  do  you  think  are  their  goals?    -­‐  of  their  activities  
37. How  are  their  methods  different  from  yours?  How  do  they  interact  with  majority?  
38. Who  is  more  successful  with  the  majority?  Why?  EXAMPLE  
 
F.  The  APOLITICAL  activists,  friends,  family  
39. How  do  you  negotiate  your  positions  with  those  who  are  apolitical?        
 
G.  The  FUTURE  
40. If  everything  from  today  on  should  go  according  to  your  best  wishes,  what  would  
Serbian  society  be  like  in  twenty  years?  Big  wild  hopes    
41. What  are  the  biggest  obstacles  you  face  in  getting  Serbia  where  you  want  it  to  be?  
42. What  do  you  think  Serbia  will  really  be  like?    
 
H.  The  PAST  
43. If  you  had  to  summarize  the  history  of  Serbian  people  and  state  in  a  few  sentences,  
what  would  it  look  like?    
44. Do  your  parents  believe  the  same  things  about  Serbian  past  like  you  do?  
45. Do  you  think  kids  mostly  inherit  parent’s  political  views  in  Serbia?  
46. How  does  your  family’s  historical  position  affect  you?  
47. What  is  the  role  of  media  and  politics  in  shaping  what  Serbian  people  remember  
about  the  past?    
48. Are  there  clearly  defined  camps  of  people  believing  different  things?  What  are  they?  
49. How  is  belief  in  a  national  history  different  from  a  knowledge  of  historical  facts?  
50. What  does  ‘truth’  mean  to  you?    
51. Justice?  Reconciliation?  
 
I.  ACTIVISM    
52. Are  you  an  activist?  How  does  it  manifest  itself?    
53. How  does  activism  look  in  your  daily  life  -­‐  e.g.  today?  What  that  you  did  was  an  
activist  thing  to  do/say/notice/feel?  
54. Why  is  it  important  for  you  to  be  an  activist?  
55. EXAMPLE  of  an  action  you  are  proud  of  
56. EXAMPLE  of  an  action  you  felt  uncomfortable  at/scared  
57. Where  are  the  limits  beyond  which  you  will  not  go?  
58. EXAMPLE  take  me  through  the  process  of  action  development  
59. When  does  one  stop  being  an  activist?    
60. How  is  today’s  activism  similar  or  different  to  the  protests  against  Milošević?  Any  
influence?    

  145  
  
J.  YOUTH  work  
61. Why  are  you  focusing  on  youth?  
62. How  are  youth  different  from  their  parents  and  older  generations  in  general?  
63. Is  there  anyone  in  the  org.  who  joined  after  they  were  adults?  How  is  that  different?  
   
 
 

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