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Ethnonationality’s Evolution in Bosnia

Herzegovina and Macedonia: Politics,


Institutions and Intergenerational
Dis-continuities 1st ed. Edition Arianna
Piacentini
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Ethnonationality’s Evolution
in Bosnia Herzegovina
and Macedonia
Politics, Institutions
and Intergenerational
Dis-continuities
Arianna Piacentini
Ethnonationality’s Evolution in Bosnia
Herzegovina and Macedonia
Arianna Piacentini

Ethnonationality’s
Evolution in Bosnia
Herzegovina and
Macedonia
Politics, Institutions
and Intergenerational
Dis-continuities
Arianna Piacentini
Eurac Research
Bolzano, Italy

ISBN 978-3-030-39188-1    ISBN 978-3-030-39189-8 (eBook)


https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-39189-8

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature
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To Mom
with all my gratitude
On Terminology

This book focuses on the republics of Bosnia Herzegovina and North


Macedonia. Throughout the book the two countries are addressed as
‘Bosnia’ and ‘Macedonia’. The use of this terminology does not imply or
want to convey the author’s political or ideological stance. The use of the
term Bosnia denotes the whole country of Bosnia Herzegovina, hence it
refers to both its Entities and autonomous district, and it does not wish
to omit the importance of Herzegovina. Similarly, the term Macedonia is
used to denote the Republic of North Macedonia, not the northernmost
Greek region. Although the ‘name dispute’ with Greece has been resolved,
the use of the shorter republic’s name—Macedonia, has no political base
and does not imply any position taken by the author in that debate.

vii
Acknowledgements

Along my path I have been lucky enough to encounter many amazing


people who, in one way or another, changed the course of my life. Many
helped me to grow as a researcher, many others as a woman and human
being. With their support and critiques, and beyond their professions
and institutional roles, they also contributed to make this book possible
but, before that, they accompanied me throughout the three-year-long
study behind it. Worthy of mention is also their serious contribution in
helping me to keep focused, stay motivated and strong, especially when
life seemed too hard.
My PhD supervisors, Professor Paolo Segatti and Professor Dario
Tuorto have been crucial presences deserving all my respect and grati-
tude. The discussions I had with them had a decisive impact on my work;
the hours spent in Professor Segatti’s office over the last few years, discuss-
ing national identities, nationalism, and politics, seriously shaped my
way of thinking and approaching certain issues. Professor Tuorto is per-
haps the person who encouraged me most in publishing this book, and
without his support, I would perhaps not be writing this now. I am also
extremely thankful to Tanja Sekulić, with whom everything started a
long time ago in 2012. Perhaps she is not aware of it, but she changed my
life more than everyone else, and I will always be in debt to her.
There are then a number of friends and colleagues, scattered all over
Europe, deserving my respect and gratitude. Just to mention a few:
ix
x Acknowledgements

Giovget and Vojkan, colleagues and friends who contributed to make my


PhD an amazing experience; Giuseppe and Alessandra, with whom I
spent the longest and toughest, but also funniest, winter in Bosnia; my
morone friend Filip, who helped me to deal with the Macedonian bureau-
cracy without getting crazy, and with whom I shared some of my best
laughs ever; and then Ivo, my brate and master a jedi among the siths,
always and no matter what.
Many thanks go also to all the people who read this work chapter by
chapter, page after page, and whose comments and feedbacks shaped its
final version. A special thanks goes to Mrs CJC, who has been so kind as
to review and proof edit this entire work at the very last moment, and
during Christmas holidays. Last but not least, infinite gratitude goes to
all those who actually made this book possible: all those families I had the
luck to meet in Skopje and Sarajevo, who opened their doors to me, who
let me in and sat me in their living rooms. I thank them for the time they
dedicated to me, for the sweets and dishes they cooked and, more impor-
tantly, for having taught me what hospitality and the feeling of being
welcome are—and especially when you really are a stranger. All this
would not ever have been possible without their help and trust.
Contents

1 Introduction: Ethnonationality, Citizenship, and Feelings


of Belonging  1
What Are We Going to Talk About, Then?    3
Ends and Means   4
Ethnic Groups and Nations: Time, Dimensions,
and Relations   6
Explaining the Whys  14
Why Yugoslavia and Post-Yugoslavia?   14
Why Macedonia and Bosnia Herzegovina?   16
Why Two Generations Within the Same Family Unit?   18
Structure of the Book   21
References  23

Part I Nations, Ideologies, and Institutions  27

2 Ethnic Groups and Nations in the Socialist Federal


Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY) 29
Socialism and Yugoslavia  30
Nations’ Status in the SFRY   31
The ‘We-Feeling’: Bratstvo i Jedinstvo and Jugoslovenstvo  32

xi
xii Contents

Identities and Identifications Within the SFRY   33


Nationalism and Yugoslavia  36
Economy, Institutions, and Ethnonational Politics   36
The Federal Units of Bosnia Herzegovina and Macedonia   38
The End of Yugoslavia   41
Political Elites’ Behaviour Matters   41
Institutional Design Matters Too   43
…and Constitutions Alike   44
The End of the World   46
References  51

3 After Yugoslavia: The New World 55


New World, Old Stuff   56
Institutional Framework: Ethnonationality in Consociations   59
Political Elite: The Distribution of Power   61
Alliances’ Networks: Where Ideology Does Not Arrive, the
Money Arrives  73
Ethnonationality and Ethnopolitics   78
References  83

Part II Ethnonationality and Generations  89

4 Between Group Status and Individual Benefits:


The Case of Skopje 91
The Yugoslav Generation of Parents   92
Collective Memories of Transition   93
The Fluctuating Path of Inter-Ethnic Relations   95
Political Attitudes and Opinions  100
The Post-Yugoslav Generation of Young Adults  105
Growing Apart  105
Perceptions of Ethnic Politics  108
The Family Environment: Ethnonationality Has Always
Mattered 113
References 118
Contents xiii

5 Between Cosmopolitanism and Survival:


The Case of Sarajevo121
From Melting-Pot to What?  122
The Yugoslav Generation of Parents  123
Yugoslavia Mon Amour  123
The Interrupted Path of Inter-Ethnic Relations  125
Political Attitudes and Opinions  128
The (Post-)Yugoslav Generation of Young Adults  132
Living the ‘Yugoslav Way’?  134
Politics and Ethnonationalism  136
The Family Environment: Ethnonationality Has Never
Mattered 141
The Yugoslav Heritage  143
References 148

6 The Story of Ethnonationality151


Context, Strategies, and Mechanisms  152
Same Game, Same Rules  152
…But Different Legitimizing Grounds  155
Generations With-in Their Plural Societies  159
The (Differences Between) Yugoslav Generations  159
The Post-Yugoslav Generations  165
Ethnonationality Across Generations  171
Similarity and Partial Interruption in Macedonia  171
Continuity in Bosnia Herzegovina  174
References 177

7 Conclusion: What Can We Learn?179


Reflecting About  180
Reflecting Across  182
Reflecting Beyond  184
References 188

Index191
Abbreviations

AVNOJ Antifašističko Vijeće Narodnog Oslobođenja Jugoslavije—Anti-


Fascist Council for the National Liberation of Yugoslavia
BiH Bosnia and Herzegovina
DF Demokratska Fronta—Democratic Front
DPA Dayton Peace Agreement
DPA∗ Partia Demokratike Shqiptare—Democratic Party of Albanians
DUI Bashkimi Demokratik për Integrim—Democratic Union for
Integration
EU European Union
FADURK Federal Fund for the Accelerated Development of the
Underdeveloped Republics and Kosovo
FBiH Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina
FYROM Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia
HDZ BiH Hrvatska demokratska zajednica Bosne i Hercegovine—
Croatian Democratic Union for Bosnia Herzegovina
HDZ 1990 Hrvatska Demokratska Zajednica—Croatian Democratic
Union 1990
JMBG Jedinstveni matični broj građana—Master Citizen Number
LCM League of Communists of Macedonia
LCY League of Communists of Yugoslavia
NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organization
NLA National Liberation Army
NS Naša Stranka—Our Party

xv
xvi Abbreviations

OFA Ohrid Framework Agreement


PDP Partia per Prosperitet Demokratik—Party for Democratic
Prosperity
RS Republika Srpska
SBB Savez za bolju budućnost BiH—Union for a Better
Future BiH
SDA Stranka Demokratske Akcije—Party of Democratic Action
SDP Socijaldemokratska Partija BiH—Social Democratic
Party of BiH
SDS Srpska Demokratska Stranka—Serb Democratic Party
SDSM Socijaldemokratski sojuz na Makedonija—Social
Democratic Union of Macedonia
SFRY Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia
SNSD Savez nezavisnih socijaldemokrata—Alliance of
Independent Social Democrats, formerly Stranka
nezavisnih socijaldemokrata—Party of Independent Social
Democrats
UÇK Ushtria Çlirimtare e Kosovës—Kosovo Liberation Army
UN United Nations
VMRO–DPMNE Vnatrešna Makedonska Revolucionerna Organizacija—
Demoktraska Partija za Makedonsko Narodno Edinstvo—
Internal
Macedonian Revolutionary Organization—Democratic
Party for Macedonian National Unity
List of Tables

Table 2.1 Percentage of adult populations identifying themselves as


Yugoslavs in Yugoslavia and each Federal Republic and
Province, in the years 1961, 1971, 1981 34
Table 3.1 Long-term unemployment rates (persons aged 15–74) by sex,
2007–2017 (% of labour force) 76

xvii
1
Introduction: Ethnonationality,
Citizenship, and Feelings of Belonging

It was in 2012 that I first became interested in ethnonationality and col-


lective identities, and it did not take me too long to pack my stuff, leave
Italy, and move to Bosnia Herzegovina. Back in 2013 I was conducting a
study on the generation born during the siege of Sarajevo, and I was sur-
prised at how many young adults managed to build or retain inter-ethnic
friendships, not becoming poisoned by ethnonationalism after all they
had gone through. I also was very impressed at how many people in their
fifties and sixties were still remembering Yugoslavia and ‘the Marshal’
almost with tears in their eyes. I could not then explain to myself why
Bosnia was such a divided country. Why were ethnonational parties so
strong? Why was being a Serb, a Bošnjak, or a Croat, at the end of the
day, so important? And why did being a Bosnian Herzegovinian mean
nothing? Was it the politicians’ fault—as everybody was thinking? Or
was it the result of the Dayton Agreement? The more I listened and
entered the youngsters’ lives, trying to understand their ideas, concerns,
and perceptions, the more I wondered about their role, what they were
doing and what they were not? And where were their ideas, behaviours,
and perceptions coming from? The next logical step was thus to look at
their families. I began to wonder about their parents, that Yugoslav

© The Author(s) 2020 1


A. Piacentini, Ethnonationality’s Evolution in Bosnia Herzegovina and Macedonia,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-39189-8_1
2 A. Piacentini

generation which contributed to both building and destroying Yugoslavia.


How and which experiences shaped them and their understanding of
belonging? And what has been transmitted from one generation to
the next?
Aware that Bosnia, and Sarajevo in particular, was probably a ‘too
peculiar’ reality, I decided to explore another multiethnic former Yugoslav
republic, and I thus moved to Macedonia, Skopje. There I found a slightly
similar reality that was nonetheless more clearly divided along ethnic
lines. Yet in both regions I saw ethnonational divisions reflected in eth-
nonational parties schools, media, neighbourhoods, friendships.
Ethnonationality was everywhere. So how did Yugoslavia manage to
maintain unity for decades? How did it succeed in counterbalancing eth-
nonational with supra-ethnic feelings of belonging? I even got to the
point of wondering if Yugoslavia really existed.
Many other people are puzzled by these same questions, and their bril-
liant works have largely succeeded in giving these issues an answer (see
Calic 2019; Lampe 2000; Pearson 2015). This book cannot hope to do
the same; yet moved by very similar guiding questions, it focuses on eth-
nonationality—the issue par excellence in the Yugoslav and post-Yugoslav
space. However, it is not (only) about ethnonational identities. Rather, it
explores the complexities and shaping forces behind them. Ethnonationality
is, in fact, not only a matter of self-identification (Brubaker and Cooper
2000) or something subjectively felt (Wimmer 2008b), and it is not only
connected to or inferred by the state’s citizenship policies and institutional
assets. During Tito’s Yugoslavia, nacionalnost—which means ethnon-
ational belonging—acquired different meanings and functions according
to the circumstances. Ethnonational forms of identification were always
allowed but were coupled with a sense of shared belonging to the whole
SFRY (Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia), and the Yugoslav citizen-
ship was the tool used to foster cooperation among and between peoples
and republics. In the 1990s, however, ethnonationality acquired a new
importance, while Yugoslav citizenship lost its unification power. Yet eth-
nonationality had begun to ‘matter more’ back in the 1970s, as a conse-
quence of economic malaise and then institutional and constitutional
changes. Nowadays, particularly in those multiethnic realities which failed
to become ethnic nation-states during the transition—although they tried
1 Introduction: Ethnonationality, Citizenship, and Feelings… 3

to—ethnonationality is, for many reasons, much more important than


citizenship. After its blatant entering into the public (and political) sphere,
ethnonationality’s collective dimension has acquired an exaggerated
importance, becoming the favourite toy of politicians and state builders—
or state destroyers, depending on the circumstances. It has been, and is,
mobilized, instrumentalized, politicized, institutionalized. According to
political and ideological circumstances it has been nurtured and empha-
sized, neglected, discouraged, or coupled with other forms of identifica-
tion and belonging. It has been used to include and exclude, to enjoy
rights and benefits, to serve collective purposes and achieve individual
goals, to rule and destroy, to kill and to survive. Ethnonationality nowa-
days seems to be about status, power, resources. But it also conditions
friendships and love relationships. It oftentimes determines where to live
and the school to which you send your kids. Ethnonationality is about
who you vote for and who claims to represent you. It is about the state,
institutions, mechanisms, procedures, quotas, seats. But it is also about
ideologies, peace, and war.

What Are We Going to Talk About, Then?


Ethnonationality has therefore become much more than an identity
component. And it does much more than remind individuals of their
origins.
This book aims to explore the ‘evolution’ of ethnonationality, and how
it has changed over time, across regimes and—as the reader has perhaps
guessed—generations. It does so for the two post-Yugoslav, multiethnic,
and post-conflict, republics of Bosnia Herzegovina and Macedonia—
here studied as two cases of a number of multinational/ethnic countries
whose ethnic collective identities have been at various times built,
neglected, emphasized, or instrumentalized and politicized. In order to
deal with the complexity surrounding and featuring the concept and its
declinations, the exploration of this evolutionary process is performed
from a temporal perspective encompassing both the macro and micro
dimensions, and surveys both the Yugoslav and post-Yugoslav structural
systems and respective generations. The second part of the book attempts
4 A. Piacentini

to portray this evolutionary process not simply from the people’s perspec-
tive, but from the eyes and through the words of two different genera-
tions: a ‘Yugoslav generation’ that grew up and socialized in the ‘golden
era’ of Yugoslavia, and a ‘post-Yugoslav’ generation which grew up and
socialized in the ‘new world’. The generational perspective represents the
most innovative feature of the book; a fresh and new point of view that
considers, alongside other major socializing agents, the paramount role
the family environment has in shaping attitudes and behaviours. In order
to satisfy my initial curiosity, I thus decided to look at two generations
living together in the same family unit. In this way, while investigating
how macro changes influenced, and have been influenced by, different
generations’ ideas and patterns of behaviour connected to ethnonational-
ity; how and why individuals belonging to different generations signify
and use their ethnonational backgrounds; and how their ideas and behav-
iours concurred to shape ethnonationality’s semantic and pragmatic char-
acter; I would also discover what has been transmitted, or not, from one
generation to the next. This work seeks to be the first attempt to shed
light on possible inter-generational dis-similarities and dis-continuities in
the modalities of framing and using ethnonationality, unveiling the ratio-
nale and motivations behind individuals’ and collectivities’ maintenance
or subversion of the current status quo—built upon ethnonational-
ity itself.

Ends and Means


The book starts with the idea that without a temporal perspective any
account on the topic would be incomplete. It does not consider the fall
of Yugoslavia as a ‘year zero’ but, rather, as the outcome of pre-existing
mechanisms and conditions. Ethnonationality’s importance, in fact, did
not emerge all of a sudden in the ‘infamous 1990s’: on the contrary, since
Socialist Yugoslavia’s birth in the 1940s equality among the nations was
reflected in both the Federation’s institutional asset (Pearson 2015) and
its socio-political organization, representing a key pillar of the Socialist
Federal Republic of Yugoslavia itself.
1 Introduction: Ethnonationality, Citizenship, and Feelings… 5

The book is also grounded on the awareness that any socio-political


dynamic is the outcome of interactions and negotiations involving both
the state and the masses; hence, while exploring the evolution of the
meanings and functions of ethnonationality, both its politico-­institutional
and social-subjective dimensions are considered, performing a multidi-
mensional and inter-generational analysis. Structural elements such as
the institutions’ shapes and the ideological umbrella under which interac-
tions take place do matter, and are crucial in shaping and even constrain-
ing actors’ behaviours. It is in these spaces, changing over time as a
consequence of complex dynamics, that actors and factors relate together,
influencing each other. Additionally, as Koneska argued in her compara-
tive work (2014: 8), in these spaces of socialization and mutual influence
the actors ‘are exposed to sets of norms about appropriate behavior in
different situations’. In fact, although on the one hand structural factors
influence, shape, and at times even constrain actors’ behaviour, on the
other hand the actors interact, socialize, and compete moved by their
own ideas and interests, concurring to tailor the reality they live in. Their
behaviours could go in a direction which sustains and hence reproduces
structural aspects or, on the contrary, could go in the direction of non-­
alignment, hence attempting to resist, or change, the structure itself.
The adoption of a relational approach is further justified by a certain
lack in the available literature: on the one side there is already an abun-
dance of works on ethnonationalism, politicization of ethnic identities,
redefinition of groups’ boundaries, and more generally on the changes
that occurred in the region with the fall of Yugoslavia. Yet the available
studies are macro-centred (Gordy 2014) and there is a lack of publica-
tions also taking into account the roles people exerted and still exert, and
the kind of interactions and intersections existing between the state and
the masses. We also know about the role that states and institutions,
political and religious leaders, and mass ideologies have had in transform-
ing the (former) Yugoslav societies and give a new importance to ethnon-
ationality. Nonetheless, we know very little about the ‘micro world’,
about how people understand/understood, cope/d and contribute/d to
these changes, adapting (or not) their behaviours to the surrounding
environment. And finally, we know even less about the role played by the
most important socializing agent, the family, in transmitting (or not)
6 A. Piacentini

certain ideas, values, and patterns of behaviour, particularly in the con-


text of changing regimes. This book attempts to fill the gaps by combin-
ing the available macro-centred studies with an empirical analysis focused
on people belonging to a generation of ‘Yugoslav’ parents born in the
1950s and socialized within the Socialist and Brotherhood’s framework,
and a generation of ‘post-Yugoslav’ young adults born in the late 1980s
and socialized in the context of ethnic politics.

 thnic Groups and Nations: Time, Dimensions,


E
and Relations

The first step before analysing the evolution of ethnonationality from a


temporal and generational perspective is to set up an appropriate theo-
retical framework enabling us to understand the institutional, ideologi-
cal, and political landscapes of BiH and Macedonia, and their Yugoslav
past. A first due observation concerns the fact that, although often used
interchangeably, ethnic and national collectivities are not the same entity.
The difference lies in the political underpinning of the latter, which may
use ethnicity for political purposes either within an existing state or in a
state of its own (see: Anderson 1983; Brass 1991; Breuilly 1993; Gellner
1983; Smith 1991; Malešević 2004, 2006, 2013). Nations, thus, are not
only political categories but are also tied to and supported by the state.
When dealing with ethnic groups and nations, Andreas Wimmer (2004,
2008a, b, 2013) built upon the work of Fredrik Barth (1969) and focused
on three key elements: the institutional framework in which interactions
among the groups, and between them and the larger state, take place; the
distribution of power between the groups; and the networks of political
alliances influencing the elites’ and the masses’ interests and behaviours.
Wimmer’s idea was that ethnic-­based nations come into being as a con-
sequence of a ‘successful compromise between different social groups: an
exchange of the guarantee of political loyalty for the promise of participa-
tion and security’ (Wimmer 2004: 32). This compromise, defining alli-
ances and interests’ protections, is necessarily based on some degree of
social closure and, as we shall see more in detail in the next chapters, it
1 Introduction: Ethnonationality, Citizenship, and Feelings… 7

stands at the core of ethnonationality’s evolutionary process and redefini-


tion of its meanings and functions over time and across generations.
The next sections build upon the arguments of Wimmer (2004, 2008a,
b, 2013) and look at how role and saliency of ethnonationality may be
influenced by certain dynamics between macro and micro factors and
actors. By so doing, the reader will be provided with the tools needed to
properly frame and understand the temporal and generational analyses
afterwards performed.

(i) Institutional Framework: The Multinational State and the


Consociational Model
From a structural point of view, the major issue multinational states have
to deal with concerns groups’ collective identities and feelings of attach-
ment and belonging. Multinational states are states in which two or more
nations, with their distinct national identities, coexist within the borders
of the same polity. Multinational states are different from the multicul-
tural ones given that in the latter groups all belong to the same nation in
spite of their different cultural traditions. ‘Multicultural states become
multinational when the different cultural groups aspire for independent
statehood’ (Keil 2013: 27).
Bosnia Herzegovina and Macedonia are multinational states in which
different groups have coexisted and lived together for a long time. In
Bosnia Herzegovina there are three major groups: Bošnjaks, Bosnian
Serbs, and Bosnian Croats, who are respectively Muslims, Christian
Orthodox, and Christian Catholic. Additionally, there are seventeen
other minority groups living in the state’s territory. In Macedonia, along
with other minority groups, the numerical majority is constituted by the
ethnic Macedonians and followed by the ethnic Albanians, respectively
Christian Orthodox and Muslims. In Macedonia, however, the distin-
guishing feature between the two main groups is not religion but the
language spoken which, contrary to the Bosnian case, is not mutually
understandable.
In the context of ethnonational plurality, the multinational state may
adopt different strategies to deal with these collectivities, avoiding disrup-
tive tendencies and the state’s collapse. Among these, some more extreme
policies may go in the direction of assimilation, repression, and even
8 A. Piacentini

physical elimination of minority groups, while others may discourage


political mobilization on ethnic bases. Another type of solution is the
building of a ‘state-nation’ (Stepan et al. 2011). State-nations are multi-
national states recognizing groups’ cultural specificities and identities
while nonetheless promoting attachment and identification with the
larger state and its institutions. This means the introduction of policies
able to positively influence inter-group relations and their relationship to
the larger state and, finally, state survival. Briefly, political leaders in mul-
tinational states may want to craft a state where the collectivities, besides
identifying themselves with their own ethnonational groups of belong-
ing, strongly identify with, and are loyal towards, the multinational state,
engendering a ‘loyalty that proponents of homogenous nation states per-
ceive that only nation state can engender’ (ibid.: 4). Contrary to the ‘one
nation, one state’ equation, the state-nation approach ‘respects and pro-
motes multiple but complementary identities’ (ivi). Legitimacy, credibility,
and popular support of the multinational states, hence, comes from the
state’s commitment in respecting and recognizing groups’ differences,
allowing them expression, and at the same time establishing mechanisms
of accommodation.
Concerning our case studies, we can say that to some extent the
Yugoslavia that Tito wished to create resembled the ‘state-nation’ encour-
aged by Stepan et al. (2011). The questions of how to manage plurality,
trigger groups’ loyalties, and a sense of community able to go beyond
ethnonational differences was, in fact, perfectly clear to Tito from the
1940s—which is the reason why he established the new, Socialist,
Yugoslavia on supra-national principles (such as the antifascist struggle
and the unity of all the South Slavs) giving the federal state an ideologi-
cal, rather than a national, identity. Institutional and ideological mecha-
nisms aimed to protect ethnonational identities while, at the same time,
developing a feeling of belonging to Yugoslavia as a whole, were crucial
for the survival of the multinational federation. Nevertheless, the consti-
tutional and institutional changes ruled out in 1974 drastically changed
the way in which ethnonationality was managed and understood, paving
the way for nationalism to arise and shaping new relational modalities
between the state and the masses. As Malešević (2006: 183) argued,
‘Yugoslavia did not collapse because it was an artificial conglomerate of
1 Introduction: Ethnonationality, Citizenship, and Feelings… 9

many ethnonational groups. It collapsed because it unwittingly created


the institutional conditions for the stern politicisation of cultural
differences.’
The post-1974 SFRY was, in fact, very similar to Lijphart’s consocia-
tions and it produced those same negative outcomes, such as institution-
alized and reified ethnonational identities, the rise of nationalist feelings,
ethnic political pluralism (since 1990), difficult inter-group dialogue,
and compromise. At the present day, indeed, the academic debate on
how to institutionally manage ethnic plurality is dominated by two dif-
ferent approaches: the consociational one developed by Arendt Lijphart
(1977) and the centripetalist one, advocated above all by Benjamin Reilly
(2004, 2006, 2011) and Donald Horowitz (1985). The former largely
relies on cooperation between (ethnic) leaders of the different segments
composing the larger society, while the latter promotes the establishment
of institutions and mechanisms encouraging inter-group moderation.
Bosnia and Macedonia, after their respective conflicts in 1992–1995
and 2001, have been rebuilt according to Lijphart’s consociational model
of democracy. The model is grounded on the assumption that ‘it is often
more perverse to deny the existence and salience of ethnic identities […]
than it is to build upon them’ (O’Leary 2005: 19), and it focuses on
strengthening the autonomy of each group, while also favouring a party
system that explicitly represents the different collectivities, ensuring their
equal representation. However, as consociationalism’s opponents often
argue (see: Brass 1991; Horowitz 1985; Noel 2005; Reilly 2004),
Lijphart’s model ‘freezes and institutionally privileges (undesirable) col-
lective identities at the expense of more “emancipated” or more “progres-
sive” identities’ (O’Leary 2005: 5). Consociations are indeed accused of
reifying groups’ identities and institutionalizing ethnicity—in turn pro-
ducing an ethnic political pluralism that strengthens ethnic, rather than
civic identities, and makes political dialogue and compromise more dif-
ficult; eventually it increases rather than decreases the sources of inter-­
group conflict. The main weakness of this particular institutional model
is, therefore, that the multinational state is by the groups seen as ‘com-
posed of nations, rather than citizens’ (Hayden 2000: 51). As we shall see,
in the case of BiH and Macedonia, the institutional framework upon
which the post-Yugoslav and post-conflict states have been built,
10 A. Piacentini

alongside with ethnonationalism, ethnicity’s politicization, and other


macro factors, have also impacted the individuals’ and the generations’
modalities of signifying and using their ethnonational belonging in the
post-Yugoslav scenario.
On the other side, the centripetalist approach is based on the assump-
tion that the best way to manage plurality is not to replicate existing dif-
ferences and divisions but, rather, to depoliticize ethnicity—for example,
by encouraging parties to present themselves as multiethnic and attract
votes across ethnic lines. By giving politicians reasons to seek support from
groups beyond their own, it is possible ‘to create an environment in which
cooperative interaction and mutually beneficial “win-win” exchanges are
possible, so that norms of cooperation and negotiation can become habit-
uated amongst political actors’ (Reilly 2004: 7). Centripetalism, therefore,
emphasizes the key role of institutions encouraging collaboration and
accommodation across ethnic lines and that can thus ‘break down the
salience of ethnicity rather than fostering its representation institutionally’
(Reilly 2011: 263). Among others,1 an important area of divergence
between the consociational and centripetalist approaches concerns territo-
rial solutions: while consociationalism recommends federalism, decentral-
ization, and territorial autonomies (which has been the case for the Dayton
Agreement’s Bosnia Herzegovina and its internal partitions), centripetal-
ism advocates that a unitary state would be more appropriate to manage
plurality and avoid disruptive tendencies (which was the rationale behind
the Macedonian Ohrid Framework Agreement).
We can therefore now understand why, in this journey aimed at retrac-
ing the steps of ethnonationality’s evolution, it is also important to focus
on institutional design and political engineering. The institutional frame-
work in which the groups live, and in which interactions between them
and the state take place, does consistently matter. However, it is not only
a matter of the institutions’ shape.

(ii) The Distribution of Power Between the Groups: the


Ethnopolitical Drift
Alongside the state’s institutional framework, the distribution of power
between groups composing the multinational state is another issue to
take into account when investigating ethnonationality’s possible changes.
1 Introduction: Ethnonationality, Citizenship, and Feelings… 11

In particular, it is worth focusing our attention on the composition of the


multiparty system and political elites’ behaviours and interests. Political
parties are the mediating institution between the citizenry and the state,
and they have the ability to not only influence and shape ethnonational-
ity’s meanings and functions, but more generally of tailoring democratic,
or ethnocratic, societies where ethnonationality’s institutional protection
is either a tool to stifle ethnonationalism or its exact opposite.
Concerning our case studies, we can see that in the SFRY’s institu-
tional asset, ethnonationality’s recognition and protection was put at the
centre of a state ideology based on groups’ equality to guarantee healthy
functioning of the multinational state and its stability. In the post-­
Yugoslav era, and especially in the post-war scenarios, constitutional rec-
ognition and institutional protection of ethnonationality has instead
been put at the centre of ethnically fragmented and antagonist state ide-
ologies based on the need to safeguard and defend each groups’ identity
and interests against those of the others. As a consequence, political rep-
resentatives seeking to gain and maintain political power by promising to
protect and safeguard their own ethnic selectorates’ interests, have found
institutional advantages in building their support upon ethnicity, exploit-
ing the grey spaces of the consociative institutional structure, rather than
depoliticizing ethnicity and fostering ‘multiple but complementary iden-
tities’ (Stepan et al. 2001). Once political power is held by ethnically
exclusive elites entrenched and misusing democratic institutions and
mechanisms, the multinational state runs the dangerous risk of becoming
ethnocratic and featured by ethnopolitics (Howard 2012).
In some cases political elites are explicitly adverse to ethnicity’s depo-
liticization because, being the political power shared according to ethnic
criteria, an alteration of that equilibrium would imply their loss of power
and the consequent renegotiation of political alliances and representation
mechanisms alike. Political leaders in ethnically diverse societies thus
have an interest in pursuing ethnic-identity politics as well as in turning
the multinational state into an ethnocracy. An ethnocratic system is,
according to the definition provided by Howard (2012: 155–156):
[…] a political system in which political and social organizations are founded
on ethnic belonging rather than individual choice. Ethnocracy, in this sense,
12 A. Piacentini

features: 1) political parties that are based foremost on ethnic interests; 2)


ethnic quotas to determine the allocation of key posts; and 3) state institu-
tions, especially in education and the security sector, that are segmented by
ethnic group. Ethnocracies are generally parliamentary systems with pro-
portional or semiproportional representation according to ethnic classifica-
tions. Contrasting political platforms—e.g., socialist-liberal, secular-religious,
left-­right, and the like—are of secondary importance to ethnic-group mem-
bership. The ethnic bases of political parties are often mandated by law. In
ethnocratic regimes, the heads of government are determined first by eth-
nic affiliation and only then by other means of appointment. Ethnocratic
regimes often segment education and the security services by ethnic group
as well. […] Slots in the military and police may also be designated primarily
along ethnic lines rather than with a view to experience, merit, or other
criteria.

Howard’s definition closely resembles the post-Yugoslav realities of Bosnia


Herzegovina and Macedonia where political power, ever since the 1990
elections, has been held by ethnonational political parties exclusively rep-
resenting their own ethnic masses, and where multiethnic and civic polit-
ical alternatives struggle to find popular consensus.

(iii) The Networks of Political Alliances


The consequent normalization of trust alliances between ethnic parties
holding power, and ethnic masses seeking protection, had and still does
have a profound impact on both the state’s proper functioning and
the society as a whole, eventually shaping both groups’ and generations’
modalities of signifying and using ethnonational origins.
In the post-Yugoslav scenario, institutionalized ethnonationality via eth-
nic power-sharing, and its politicization via ethnic political parties, have
allowed for the creation of particularistic relations and alliances between the
(ethnic) political representatives and the (ethnic) masses. Being consocia-
tions grounded on ethnic principles of representation and redistribution
of resources, the ethnic political representatives use a wide array of strate-
gies to gain and maintain their power positions. Yet political leaders and
their parties, before coming to political power, need to acquire popular
legitimacy and make the multiethnic and civic alternatives worthless to be
voted and supported. Keeping in mind the rise of ethnonationalism in the
1 Introduction: Ethnonationality, Citizenship, and Feelings… 13

late 1980s, and the rise to power of individuals such as Tuđman and
Milošević, contemporary ethnonational leaders use similar but more sophis-
ticated strategies to provide their own people with good enough reasons to
vote for them during elections, ultimately swearing loyalty to the nation
rather than the multinational state. Among the most deployed strategies are
the use of media, the school system, and religious institutions as powerful
ways to spread certain ideas in and about the larger society and the groups
composing it. Yet ‘ethnically exclusive’ political alliances are also widely
influenced by the economic conditions of the multinational state, as well as
by the mechanisms of redistribution of resources among the groups. The
link existing between economic malaise and ethnonationalism has already
been highlighted by the many scholars who tried to provide clarity on the
Yugoslav breakup (see Andjelić 2003; Brass 1991; Bieber et al. 2014; Hayden
2000; Pavković 2003). If we look at our case studies, we see how difficult
economic conditions stand at the core of a political strategy that, on the one
side, relies on ethnic mechanisms of representation and redistribution of
resources and, on the other one, exploits generalized poverty so to establish
favouritism relations with ethnicized voters. In this way, ethnic political par-
ties can reach a wider spectrum of the electorate, and also those not ‘ideo-
logically’ convinced (Piacentini 2019). Roughly speaking, this means the
manipulation of democratic principles and economic insecurities to
develop informal networks of ethno-clientelistic alliances, offering ‘ethnic
masses’ the illusion of some sort of economic stability on the condition of
absolute loyalty to the party—and, in turn, to the ethnonational group.
Ethnonational groups, besides being ideological targets, also become groups
of interest, while political parties become distributors of resources. This phe-
nomenon, defined by Mujkić (2016) ‘ethno-­capitalism’, is widespread in
both the case studies analysed in this work; yet, as we shall see in the empiri-
cal chapters, reasons and motivations behind individuals’ engagement into
ethno-clientelistic networks do differ according to both the generation and
the country surveyed.
14 A. Piacentini

Explaining the Whys


As the reader had the occasion to notice, to untie macro and micro while
looking at the change’s ethnonationality went through in the multiethnic
former Yugoslav societies is almost impossible. Hence, this book first
explains and explores the macro level, and only then it focuses its empiri-
cal attention on the micro level, finally looking at the relations of inter-
dependence between the two. These attentions justify the two-generations
exploration, where a generation of ‘Yugoslav’ parents together with a gen-
eration of ‘post-Yugoslav’ children are the protagonists of the story. The
book aims at a better understanding of the micro-generational impact of
macro-changes entailing ethnonationality, as well as the roles people have
played and still play in shaping the reality they live in.

Why Yugoslavia and Post-Yugoslavia?

Socialist Yugoslavia was a multinational state homeland for many nations,


and its two major founding principles were the common Slavic origins of
the nations composing it, and their common struggle against the Fascist
forces back in the 1940s.
The Yugoslav system, comprehensive of many different groups with
their own cultural, linguistic, and religious specificities, was deeply com-
mitted in assuring equality (Pearson 2015), avoiding the supremacy of
one group over the others, and particularly in suppressing nationalism.
The state ideology played a fundamental role in keeping the groups tied
together and Bratstvo i Jedinstvo (Brotherhood and Unity) represented the
ideological pillar of the system itself. Rather than a ‘brainwashing strat-
egy’, the massive spread of values grounded on good relations and respect
for the differences genuinely helped the communities to live together,
sharing not only the same space but also their personal lives. Tito’s poli-
tics did not aim to suppress ethnic identities; rather, it aimed to instigate
a sense of solidarity among the groups, a ‘we feeling’ so as to weaken
ethnic sentiments. Yet the decentralizing measures enacted in 1974 led
towards the last chapter of the history of Socialist Yugoslavia, with the
federation assuming a ‘quasi-consociational’ shape that contributed to
1 Introduction: Ethnonationality, Citizenship, and Feelings… 15

pave the way for nationalism to arise. With all the federal units except
BiH becoming de facto ethnic nation-states, it did not take too long for
the republican elites to frame economic and political tensions in ethnic
terms, thus tailoring a new way to look at the federal republics and their
peoples themselves. As Malešević (2006) and Brubaker (1996) argued,
the structure of the Yugoslav federal state in its last fifteen years of life, its
complicated relation with ethnicity, nationality, and nationalism, and the
solutions adopted to manage those issues, played a major part in the col-
lapse itself, shaping socio-political dynamics and developments.
The 1990s violently marked the dissolution of the SFRY and the tran-
sition towards new regimes. The nation-state paradigm invested multina-
tional Yugoslavia, and nationhood became a matter of life (Drakulić
1993). The institutional collapse was accompanied by an ideological fall
where socialism was substituted by ethnonationalism. In that chaos polit-
ical parties, media, educational systems, and religious institutions had a
key role in rebuilding national identities, producing the overlap between
ethnicity, religion, and nationality. Their role, persisting until today in
both Bosnia Herzegovina and Macedonia, will be analysed in more detail
in Chap. 3. More than two decades after the Yugoslav collapse and their
respective independences, Bosnia and Macedonia figure among the
‘deeply divided societies’, meaning those societies in which ‘ethnicity is a
politically salient cleavage around which interests are organized for politi-
cal purposes’ (Reilly 2004: 4). The structural changes that took place
from the late 1980s have had a visible political and social impact and, at
the present day, in both the two former republics ethnicity-based social
cleavages overlap with the political ones, mutually reinforcing each other
while hampering social cohesion and political compromise. In both
countries ethnonationality is institutionalized via ethnic power-sharing
mechanisms and politicized by ethnic representatives who have a greater
incentive to build support upon ethnicity rather than working for its
depoliticization. Additionally, the presence of ethnic mechanisms of
institutional representation has allowed for the establishment of ethnic
mechanism of redistribution of resources, creating ethnic clientelistic
relations between the state and the masses. Any reference to ‘Brotherhood
and Unity’, in a Yugoslav sense, has vanished. Divisions between the
groups are mirrored in segregated education, monoethnic neighbours,
16 A. Piacentini

cities, territories, media, and political parties. In both BiH and Macedonia,
a shared sense of belonging to the same state, as well as a sense of being
equal citizens regardless of ethno-cultural differences, is still struggling to
prevail over exclusive ethnonational attachments.
Therefore, to reconstruct ethnonationality’s meanings and functions
since its Yugoslav past, looking at the changes it went through from an
institutional, political, and ideological perspective, is crucial in under-
standing the generational impact those changes might have had on the
population, and how differently socialized generations have contributed
to make those changes possible. By so doing, the investigation also
accounts for possible generational and inter-generational dis-continuities
and dis-similarities. It is the (apparent) macro-discontinuity between
ethnonationality’s current politicization and divisive function, and the
non-­divisive space Yugoslavia sought to create, that justifies and makes
scientifically relevant an investigation encompassing two political eras,
systems, and respective generations.

Why Macedonia and Bosnia Herzegovina?

Two main considerations drove the selection of the case studies. The first
one is purely pragmatic, based on an extensive previous knowledge of the
author on the contexts investigated. The second consideration is, instead,
methodological and connected to the elements both states share—
although also their differences play a role in making the comparison rea-
sonable and interesting.
To begin with, in both countries the groups composing the larger state
are socially divided according to the ethnic group of belonging. In both
Bosnia and Macedonia more than one group coexist in the same state,
and in both cases the groups differ in their ethnic, religious, and linguistic
origins. Secondly, the consociational model of democracy has been imple-
mented in both cases as a post-conflict measure, meant to calm down
inter-group tensions and promote good and democratic practices.
However, ethnonationality’s institutionalization has in both states
resulted in an overly emphasized importance of the same, which is in turn
1 Introduction: Ethnonationality, Citizenship, and Feelings… 17

reflected in a political scenario composed almost exclusively by ethnonational


political parties seeking to represent and protect their own ethnonational
groups. Thus, Bosnia and Macedonia are both ethnically divided societies
featured by ethnic politics—that is the overlap between ethnic-based
social and political cleavages. Thirdly, both countries are plagued by eco-
nomic malaise, high levels of unemployment, corruption, and clientelism2
often functioning according to ethnic criteria. As we shall see later in the
book, it is not uncommon for people to establish particularistic relations
with ‘powerful individual’ members of the major ruling political par-
ties, which either control sectors of the public administration/public
companies via their political parties, or own their own private companies.
Last but not least, Bosnia and Macedonia also share a historical past of
domination by powerful empires, as well as a more recent history as
federal units in the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Both states
gained independence and became sovereign states for the first time only
after the SFRY collapse of the 1990s.
Besides these commonalities, there are also a few differences worth
mentioning and, as we shall see, these played a role in shaping ethnon-
ationality’s meanings and function across time periods and generations as
well. The first difference concerns the size of the groups: in Macedonia,
despite a sizeable presence of ethnic Albanians (and other minority
groups), ethnic Macedonians have always been in the net majority, to the
point that during the time of Yugoslavia Macedonia was seen as ‘the fed-
eral unit of Macedonians’ (Koneska 2014: 61). Bosnia, on the contrary,
has always been a ‘Jugoslavija u malom’ (Yugoslavia in miniature), and
none of its three major ethnic groups has ever been in majority. The sec-
ond difference, instead, pertains to the intensity of the conflict: Bosnia
went through a disastrous war that lasted from 1992 to the end of 1995;
Macedonia left the SFRY almost without any fight and went through a
short internal conflict (about nine months) in 2001. In both cases, how-
ever, violence contributed to amplifying ethnicity’s importance and
distance between the groups, producing negative consequences especially
in the context of the almost total absence of common supra-ethnic forms
of identification.
18 A. Piacentini

Why Two Generations Within the Same Family Unit?

After having explained why it is necessary to start the analysis of ethnon-


ationality’s evolution from the Yugoslav era, and why Bosnia and
Macedonia happened to be the most suitable case studies, this section
explains the rationale behind the choice of these two generational cohorts.
By considering that anyone in the society is exposed to the same flux
of influences, although perhaps to different extents, we can expect social-
izing agents like political parties, school systems, media, and religious
institutions, to have (had) a powerful role in shaping the way people
understand, perceive, and use their ethnonational backgrounds. To focus
also on the family makes the picture more complete, opening up a deeper
understanding of why people are the way they are. The book’s scope, in
fact, is not to see how but which ideas, rules, and patterns of behaviour
related to ethnonationality have been transmitted, hence continued or
not, between two generations socialized in different macro-environments.
Furthermore, there is no aim to generalize from individuals to ethnon-
ational groups: on the contrary, the arguments are presented so to avoid
individuals’ ascription into political categories and ‘methodological
nationalism’, namely ‘taking national discourses, agendas, loyalties, and
histories for granted, without problematizing them or making them an
object of analysis in its own right’ (Wimmer and Schiller 2002: 304).
Performing a multidimensional and temporal exploration allows us to
understand how the state and the masses interact together, and how their
conjoined roles make the system function. In a broader perspective, the
multidimensional and inter-generational analysis outlined throughout
the book explores the bi-directional relation according to which past and
present macro-environments and connected family-personal experiences
might have penetrated and shaped the family micro-environment influ-
encing ideas and behaviours of two generations; how these two genera-
tions’ ideas and behaviours, in turn, contributed to shape the surroundings;
and how eventually they coexist—influencing, meeting, or clashing with
each other—inside the family.
From a theoretical perspective, the inclusion of the older parents’ gen-
eration is paramount because, generally in the available literature, their
characteristics are taken for granted and ‘little attention is paid to how
1 Introduction: Ethnonationality, Citizenship, and Feelings… 19

the parents came to be the way they are’ (Beck and Jennings 1975:
83–84). On the other hand, the inclusion of a generation of young adults,
old enough to have concerns such as workplace, family, future, and poli-
tics, allows us to see how a generation with a ‘Yugoslav background’ but
raised in a divided environment, understand, frame, and use its ethnon-
ational background. Having an overview of the whole family environ-
ment allows us to understand ‘why people are the way they are’. It is also
worth mentioning that looking at ethnonationality through the prism of
the family, and through the eyes of the two generations composing it,
gives us some interesting insights partly filling the gaps existing in the
available literature. According to the scholarly production on political
socialization, the family is the most important actor in the socialization
process (Barni 2011; Bengston 1975; Coffè and Voorpostel 2011; Grusec
and Hastings 2007; Miller and Glass 1989), and ‘similarity of beliefs and
values between parents and children has long been recognized as an
important source of stability in society. Indeed, the transmission of socio-­
political ideologies from one generation to the next permits continuity
within families and integration between cohorts of individuals in the
population’ (Miller and Glass 1989: 991). The family is, thus, ‘the agent
which promotes early attachment to country and government’ (Jennings
and Niemi 1968: 169) by channelling the offspring into groups and insti-
tutions that will ‘reinforce the commitment’ (Himmelfarb in Martin
et al. 2003: 171) to the norms. Nevertheless, according to Cunningham
(2001), children need to reach a certain maturity before adopting the
values to which they have been exposed in childhood, and there may be
a lag between socialization and the emergence of those values. Additionally,
periods of political conflict may increase the likelihood of generational
changes (Kraut and Lewis 1975), and to find out the nature, reasons, and
logic behind those changes is this book’s goal.
The arguments put forward by the book are empirically sustained and
grounded on semi-structured interviews conducted by the author in
Skopje and Sarajevo in 2016 and 2017 with about one hundred indi-
viduals belonging to the two generations here surveyed, as well as mem-
bers of political parties and civil society organizations. For the sake of
methodological curiosity, in both cities interviews were conducted with
about thirteen families respectively, and always trying to respect the triad
20 A. Piacentini

mother-father-children. In the context of Sarajevo, however, a couple of


families were only composed of mothers and children, since the fathers
had died during the conflict. Nevertheless, this ‘lack’ has not been con-
sidered a methodological weakness: on the contrary, it represents an
essential feature of both the generations investigated, an element that
could potentially influence the family’s members’ perceptions of ethnon-
ational belonging, even leading towards more radical(ized) positions.
The older generation considered in the book is composed of ‘parents’
born between 1952 and 1965, who have lived both the ‘golden era’ of
Yugoslavia (1960s and 1970s) and its disintegration. The younger genera-
tion, instead, seeks to represent the young adults born between 1985 and
1990. From a methodological perspective, the choice of these two gen-
erations mirrors the years in which their secondary socialization was
completed (see Ricucci and Torrioni 2004). Aware that one cannot help
but wonder how accurate the generational analysis proposed is, and how
legitimate it is to consider those individuals as representatives of the two
generations, I must stress and emphasize that the bi-generational perspec-
tive here adopted to explain and explore the changes the Yugoslav repub-
lics went through, and particularly those involving the notion of
ethnonationality, is a rather unknown territory. The words and percep-
tions of these two generations’ members therefore try to make sense of
how a Yugoslav generation of parents and a post-Yugoslav generation of
children are reframing and using their ethnonational belonging in the
light of systemic changes and personal experiences, and how these might
eventually account for generational dis-similarities and dis-continuities.
To conclude, I do recognize one cannot help but wonder what the
possibilities and limits of such an approach are. Once again I must say
that at the present day no other inter-generational study in the context
of former Yugoslavia has ever been performed, and besides the huge
amount of literature existing about Bosnia and Macedonia, the question
of how ethnonationality has evolved from a structural, temporal, and
bi-­generational perspective has not been tackled. The book offers a new
and fresh perspective from which we look and understand the role and
reasons multinational states, political elites, masses, and individuals may
1 Introduction: Ethnonationality, Citizenship, and Feelings… 21

have in preventing/avoiding/causing conflicts, building democracy, or


maintaining ethnopolitics. While the book does not, and cannot, pro-
vide a generalizable inter-generational perspective, mainly but not exclu-
sively because of the lack of previous longitudinal and statistical data,
the dynamics it sheds light on oblige us to reflect beyond the case stud-
ies. Bosnia and Macedonia in fact figures as only two examples of a
wider number of multinational states in which ethnonationality’s mean-
ings and functions have changed as a consequence of regimes’ changes,
political choices, and interests, as well as conflicts and economic dispari-
ties. The arguments put forward in the following chapters will tell us
something new and interesting about what is legitimising, sustaining,
and laying continuity to ethnic identity politics and nationalism; to
opportunistic political behaviours and state-capture situations; to the
paradoxical and simultaneous attractiveness and rejection of ethnon-
ational categories. But it will also help us better understand the constant
interaction and mutual influence between the individual and the collec-
tive, economy and institutions, society and politics, psychology and
pragmatism, in and beyond former Yugoslav countries, in and beyond
consociational settings.

Structure of the Book


The book is composed of five main chapters, organized into two parts,
and followed by a concluding reflection on the case studies and the con-
cept of ethnonationality in general. After this introductory chapter, in
Part I—Nations, Ideologies, and Institutions, Chaps. 2 and 3 provide a
historical-institutional overview of case studies from their Yugoslav past
to their respective conflicts and current realities. Keeping the focus of the
attention on the multinational state, and the tie between state-sponsored
ideologies and institutional mechanisms, Chap. 2 Ethnic Groups and
Nations in the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY) analyses how
ethnonational plurality was managed in the SFRY. Starting from its birth
in 1943, the chapter looks at how the federal Yugoslav system succeeded
22 A. Piacentini

in gaining popular legitimacy and managing ethnic diversity while trying


to stifle nationalism. The exploration gives a special attention to the
decentralization process initiated in the 1970s, after which the SFRY
assumed a ‘quasi-consociational’ character, and stresses how different
state architectures can differently impact both the political and social
spheres—even favouring the rise of disruptive tendencies aiming at
changing meanings and functions of ethnonationality. Finally, by draw-
ing upon parallels with the ‘post-1974 SFRY’, the cases of post-conflict
Bosnia Herzegovina and Macedonia will also be examined, making clear
the ethnopolitical risk run by multinational states, as well as the connec-
tion between ethnic power-sharing mechanisms and ethnic politics.
Chapter 3 After Yugoslavia. The New World goes in-depth into the cur-
rent Bosnian and Macedonian realities, analysing how consociational
arrangements are actually seen and used as a sort of ‘democratic legitimi-
zation’ by ethnopolitical entrepreneurs pursuing (ethnic) identity poli-
tics. Particularly, and in order to prepare the ground for the
inter-generational analysis, the chapter looks at those factors and conse-
quent rulers–ruled dynamics potentially affecting citizens’ social and
political behaviours and, most importantly, the meanings attributed to,
and the functions assumed by, ethnonational origins.
In Part II—Ethnonationality and Generations, Chaps. 4, 5, and 6 anal-
yse the empirical material collected in Skopje and Sarajevo with members
of two generations living in the same family. Chapter 4 Between Groups’
Status and Individual Benefits: The Case of Skopje, and Chap. 5 Between
Cosmopolitanism and Survival: The Case of Sarajevo separately deals with
the Macedonian and Bosnian realities. The discussion is presented start-
ing from the older generation and the Yugoslav past, then proceeds by
surveying the younger generation and detecting possible inter-­generational
dis-continuities and dis-similarities. The two empirical chapters investi-
gate people’s perspectives, opinions, and modalities of interactions with
both the state and other groups living in a plural society, trying to unveil
that mutually dependent relationship existing between the state and the
masses. Chapters 4 and 5 provide both a generational and inter-­
generational picture of how and why ethnonationality’s meanings and
functions have possibly changed (or not) across generations and time
periods, also giving the reader a complete family overview for each
1 Introduction: Ethnonationality, Citizenship, and Feelings… 23

country surveyed. Chapter 6 The Story of Ethnonationality provides a final


comprehensive overview summarizing the major points touched on and
which emerged throughout the book. It summarizes the attitudes arising
within the older and younger generations, clarifying the roots and rea-
sons of the inter-generational dis-similarities and dis-continuities that
arose in the two case studies; finally providing a family-level comparison.
The analysis shows how the apparently very similar socio-political situa-
tion of Macedonia and Bosnia Herzegovina are instead the outcome of
different political, inter-group, and state–masses dynamics; as well as how
(and why) the meanings and usages attributed to ethnonational belong-
ing differ within the two generations from Bosnia and Macedonia.
Lastly, Chap. 7 Conclusion: What Can We learn? represents a final
thought about the arguments tackled and put forth in the book. While
drawing upon the cases of Bosnia and Macedonia, these last pages look at
the more recent socio-political and economic developments featuring the
European continent, proposing a reflection beyond the case studies and
across the democratic continuum.

Notes
1. S. Noel (ed.) 2005, From Power Sharing to Democracy. Post-conflict
Institutions in Ethnically Divided Societies, Montreal & Kingston: MacGill-­
Queen’s University Press.
2. Freedom House, 2018, Nations in Transit Bosnia and Herzegovina 2018
Report https://freedomhouse.org/report-types/nations-transit; The
FYROMacedonia 2018 https://freedomhouse.org/report/nations-tran-
sit/2018/macedonia.

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———. 2018b. Nations in Transit. Macedonia 2018 Report. https://freedom-
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26 A. Piacentini

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Part I
Nations, Ideologies, and Institutions
2
Ethnic Groups and Nations
in the Socialist Federal Republic
of Yugoslavia (SFRY)

In 1943, based on an AVNOJ1 decision, the Socialist Federal Republic of


Yugoslavia (SFRY)2 was established under the leadership of Josip Broz
Tito. The Yugoslavia Tito had in mind was to be different from the pre-­
war Yugoslavia under Karađorđević—‘hiding’ the hegemonic dream of
Great Serbia. Tito’s Yugoslavia was based on the Marxist understanding
of nation and state (Jović 2003), and it had to be less centralized in order
to guarantee equality and justice for all the peoples living in it. These
goals could be achieved only through Socialism.
This chapter explores ethnonational issues in the multiethnic and mul-
tinational Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY), providing the
reader with a historical overview seeking to unravel the always existing
links and mutual dependencies between state institutional assets, ideolo-
gies, economic conditions, and ethnonationality; as well as between groups’
and individuals’ needs and wishes.

© The Author(s) 2020 29


A. Piacentini, Ethnonationality’s Evolution in Bosnia Herzegovina and Macedonia,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-39189-8_2
30 A. Piacentini

Socialism and Yugoslavia


The SFRY was an ambitious project which aimed to unite not only different
ethnic groups, but also groups that occupied different socio-political
positions within recent history and that fought against each other in the
inter-war period, bringing forward different ideologies and national
plans. In the eyes of the Yugoslav authorities, what could represent a
problem was not ethnic plurality, but the potential rise of nationalist
feelings that, if not properly stifled, would have led to ethnocentric claims
and perhaps conflict. As a consequence, the SFRY had to be founded on
shared, solid principles able to legitimize a multinational federation, and
constitute a common ground for the peaceful coexistence of different
national groups.
These leading legitimizing principles were the anti-fascist struggle and
liberation of the country from foreign occupiers; the Socialist ideal based
on the Marxist-Leninist ideology; and a politics of equality, brotherhood,
and unity among all the Yugoslav peoples despite their differences (see
Lampe 1994; Sekulić 2002). Nevertheless, among the party ranks there
were some conflicting ideas, which may be linked to ideological interpre-
tations of Marxism and Socialism: on the one hand, the ‘statists’—as
Tito, believed Yugoslavia should have remained ‘a state’; on the other
hand, the ‘non-statists’—as Kardelj, argued that if not decentralized, the
new Yugoslavia would not have been different from the previous one and
the Soviet Union as well (Jović 2003). The statist understanding initially
prevailed, and the new Yugoslavia closely resembled the Soviet Union
(Radan 1998); yet, after the Tito–Stalin split (1948), the initial moment
of totalitarian rule and centralism gradually left space to decentralization,
the workers’ self-management,3 and the foundation of the Non-Aligned
Movement.4 The detachment from the Soviet system helped to better
define Yugoslavia’s identity, demonstrating ‘abroad and at home that its
political system was more in tune with the origins of the Marxist doctrine
and hence more just, free and equal […]’ (Malešević 2006: 169).
2 Ethnic Groups and Nations in the Socialist Federal Republic… 31

Nations’ Status in the SFRY5

The SFRY was established as a federative multinational state in which


nationality was territorialized. Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Montenegro,
Macedonia and Bosnia Herzegovina, plus the autonomous regions of
Kosovo and Vojvodina within the Serbian borders, were its constitutive
units; each one—except Bosnia Herzegovina—with a national majority
above 50 per cent. This internal ethnic composition6 made the SFRY ‘one
of the most diversified structures among European countries’ (Janjić
1997: 12) and, in order to assure each ethnic group enjoyed a special
status within the federation, each republic’s majority group was recognized
as a constituent nation, thus satisfying the identity and psychological
needs of groups that until very recently were bearers of antagonist ideals.
Slovenes, Croats, Serbs, Montenegrins, Macedonians, and from 1971
also Muslims, were recognized as narod—constituent nations, not only in
their respective republics but all over Yugoslavia’s territory. Groups with a
homeland outside Yugoslavia, like Albanians, Turks, or Hungarians, were
recognized as narodnost (nationalities), while etničke grupe (ethnic groups)
were groups like the Roma or other minorities (Bringa 1993).
Conscious that equality could not be only constitutional, the protection
of the groups’ collective rights represented a peculiar aspect of Yugoslav
policies. To mention some: all groups were guaranteed the right to speak
and write in their own mother languages; Cyrillic and Latin alphabets
were both used and learnt at school; and each republic had its own official
language—though the official State’s idiom was Serbo-­ Croatian.7
Concerning religion, the 1946 constitution guaranteed equal status to
the three main religions—Roman Catholic, Christian Orthodox, and
Islam, also providing ‘separation between state and church, freedom of
worship, religious equality, and the seclusion of religion to the private
sphere’ (Velikonja 2003: 185). Particularly in the initial phase, however,
religious activity was limited to spiritual affairs and religious education
was banned in schools (Radić 2003). The Yugoslav authorities had, not
without reasons, some suspicions concerning the Catholic Church,
sympathizing for the ustaša (Ramet 2006: 196) and the Orthodox
Church, a symbol of the previous Serbian hegemony. The position of
32 A. Piacentini

Islam got slightly better in the 1960s8 with the establishment of the
Non-Aligned Movement and then the recognition of Muslims as a nation
in 1971.
Given the groups’ differences, previous identity issues, and the divid-
ing experience of the civil war happened meanwhile the Second World
War, the principle of equality and the emphasis over the groups’ common
Slavic roots represented the best solution against divisions and instability
(Andjelić 2003). On the other side, although seemingly contradictory,
recognition and protection of the groups’ ethnonational identities—
constitutionally, institutionally, and socially—was indispensable to
attract and gain their support and legitimacy (Randan 1998).

The ‘We-Feeling’: Bratstvo i Jedinstvo


and Jugoslovenstvo

The policy of Bratstvo i Jedinstvo (Brotherhood and Unity) was the


emblem of the system. It was the necessary condition for the functioning
of the multinational federation, the basis of equality and peaceful coexis-
tence of its peoples, and the essential component for the development
of Socialism. Although some scholars argued it functioned as a ‘civil reli-
gion’, meaning ‘an alloy of myths, quasi-religious symbols, cults, rituals,
beliefs, and practices that secure the nation’s legitimacy and convince the
people that the system is “good”’ (Perica 2002: 95), it actually was much
more than an ideological mantra. It consisted in constitutional guaran-
tees, practices, and policies aimed to safeguard groups’ and individuals’
equality. Additionally, as we shall see in the empirical chapters, the feeling
of ‘being brothers’ all over the federation’s territory was real and strictly
connected to the individuals’ pride of living in a big, geopolitically impor-
tant, safe and, overall, free state (particularly from the 1960s). Brotherhood
and Unity was thus mirrored in the notion of ‘equality’, to be guaranteed
for both the social and the national groups (Pearson 2015) as, for instance,
economic disparities or lack of prosperity of some ethnonational group
could potentially represent a source of tension at a social level, but also at
the republic and federal ones alike.
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This called forth loud protests from Abd er Rahman, who declared
that it was quite impossible for him to work in such heat on such a
meagre supply.
I endeavoured to pacify him by pointing out that I was not asking
him to do anything I was not prepared to do myself, and that, as a
Sudani, he belonged to a race that prided themselves on being able
to endure the hardships to be encountered in a desert journey. But
he only got more excited, saying that he and Ibrahim did more work
than I did, as they had to load and unload the camels and walked all
day, while I occasionally rode. Dahab, he added, was of no use in
the desert, as he was only a cook, and I could do without him, and,
as we were short of water, we had better get rid of him. At the end he
was fairly shouting at me with rage, and, as he was not in a state to
listen to arguments, I walked away from the camp into the desert to
give him time to cool down.
A Sudani at heart is a savage, and if a savage thinks he is
deprived of the necessaries of life he is very apt to fall back upon
primitive methods, and is quite capable of “getting rid” of anyone who
stands between him and his water supply. Visions of the ghastly
scenes that took place among the survivors of the shipwrecked
“Medusa” and “Mignonette,” when they ran short of water, and of the
terrible fate that overtook the survivors of the disastrous Flatters
expedition, during their retreat to Algeria from the central Sahara,
came up before my eyes, and, as I saw Abd er Rahman and Ibrahim
earnestly consulting together, I felt the situation was not one to be
trifled with.
I went back to the camp fully expecting to have to deal with
something like a mutiny. I called Abd er Rahman up and told him he
was never to speak to me again like that, and if he did I should fine
him heavily. I said that we should find plenty of water in the depot at
Jebel el Bayed and there was no need at all for any anxiety, but that,
owing to the leakage from the tanks, we should have to be careful till
we got there. I told him that I should help to load and unload the
baggage, and would walk all day to show that the allowance of water
was sufficient. As to Dahab, I pointed out that he had worked with
him for two seasons in the desert, and that it was very treacherous
for him to turn round and want to “get rid” of him directly there was a
slight deficiency in the water supply.
Much to my surprise, I found him extremely penitent. He said I
could drink all his water supply and Ibrahim’s as well if I wanted it; of
course he could put up with a small water supply better than I could,
he was very strong; and as for Dahab he was an excellent fellow and
a friend of his; he had only been angry because he was thirsty. I told
him that it was very easy for him to talk, but that I should like to see
how much there was at the back of what he said, so I challenged him
to see if he could do on less water than I could. A sporting offer of
this sort generally appeals to a Sudani or an Arab. He accepted my
challenge with a grin.
Ibrahim afterwards apologised for his brother, saying that he had
been behaving like a woman.
The sealing-wax I had put on the leaks effectually closed them;
but towards noon the increasing heat melted the wax and soon they
were leaking as badly as ever; the other tanks, that had held out up
to that point, also opened their seams in the heat, and, by the end of
the day, every single tank that I had was dripping its precious
contents on to the ground. Only the small ones that I had made for
the depots remained waterproof.
As the sealing-wax proved ineffectual, I scraped it off in the
evening, and, since the leaks were all in the seams of the tanks, I
plugged them with some gutta-percha tooth stopping that I had
fortunately brought with me, wedging it into the seams where they
leaked with the blade of a knife. This was apparently unaffected by
the heat, and, though it was liable to be loosened by rough usage,
was a great improvement on the wax. But the leaks were plugged
too late. During the two days while they were open, one tank had
become almost entirely empty, and the others had all lost a
considerable portion of their contents. Fortunately I had allowed an
ample supply of water, most of which was in the depot at Jebel el
Bayed, so with the small tanks to fall back on in case of need, we
could count on being able to get out about twelve days instead of the
fifteen I had arranged for, which I expected would more than take us
to Owanat.
We continued our march, leaving a small depot behind us at each
camp till we reached the main store. This I found had not been
made, as I intended it should be, at the foot of Jebel el Bayed, but a
good half-day’s journey to its north.
I was greatly relieved to see that the depot appeared to be quite in
order; but Abd er Rahman was evidently suspicious, for leaving the
unloading of the camels to Ibrahim and Dahab, he went off to the
depot and began peering about and searching the neighbourhood for
tracks.
Almost at once he returned with a very long face, announcing that
a lot of water had been thrown away. I hurried up to the depot, and
he pointed out two large patches of sand thickly crusted on the
surface, showing that a very large amount of water had been spilt.
We examined the depot itself. The sacks of grain were quite
untouched, but every one of the large iron tanks was practically
empty, with the exception of one which was about half full. The little
tanks intended for the small depots did not appear to have been
tampered with, perhaps because they would have required some
time to empty.
The neighbourhood of the place where the water had been
poured was covered with the great square footprints made by
Qway’s leather sandals, and made it quite clear that it was he who
had emptied the tanks. There was no trace of the more rounded
sandals worn by Abdulla on that side of the depot.
We followed Qway’s footprints for a short distance. About two
hundred yards away from the depot they joined on to Abdulla’s, the
small neat marks of Qway’s camel overlaying the bigger prints of
Abdulla’s hagin—showing clearly that Qway had been the last to
leave. I then returned with Abd er Rahman to the camp to decide
what was best to be done.
The heavy leakage from the tanks we had brought with us,
coupled with the large amount of water thrown away by Qway, made
it abundantly clear that all chance of carrying out the scheme for
which I had been working for two seasons, of getting across the
desert to the Sudan, or of even getting as far as Owanat, was
completely out of the question. It was a nasty jar, but it was of no use
wasting time in grousing about it.
Our own position gave cause for some anxiety. So far as I and the
men with me were concerned we were, of course, in no danger at all.
Mut, with its water supply, could easily have been reached in about a
week—it was only about one hundred and fifty miles away—and we
had sufficient water with us and in the depots to take us back there.
As for Qway, I felt he was quite capable of looking after himself,
and I did not feel much inclined to bother about him. The difficulty
was Abdulla. From his tracks it was clear that he had no hand in
emptying the tanks, and I very much doubted whether he knew
anything at all about it. Abd er Rahman’s explanation of what had
occurred was, I felt sure, the correct one. His view was that Abdulla,
though “very strong in the meat, was rather feeble in the head,” and
that Qway had managed to get rid of him on some excuse and had
stayed behind to empty the tanks, which he had then put back in
their places, hoping perhaps that we should not notice that anything
was wrong.
Abdulla, counting on me to bring him out water and provisions,
had gone off for a six days’ journey, relying on meeting us at the end
of that time. After going as far as he could to the south, he was to cut
across on to Qway’s track and then to ride back along it to meet us.
The man had served me well, and in any case I did not feel at all
inclined to leave him to die of thirst, as he certainly would, if we did
not go out to meet him. Obviously, we should have to follow up
Qway’s track to relieve him—a course which also held out the
alluring prospect of being able to get hold of Qway himself.
But our water was insufficient to enable the whole caravan to go
on together, and it was urgently necessary to send back to Dakhla
for a further supply. The difficulty was to know whom to send. There
was always the risk that Qway might wheel round on us and try to
get at our line of depots; and unfortunately he carried a Martini-Henri
rifle I had lent him. My first idea was to go back with Dahab myself,
as I could have found my way back to Mut without much difficulty,
using my compass if necessary—the road was an easy one to follow
—and to let the two Sudanese go on to relieve their fellow-
tribesman, Abdulla; but this scheme seemed to be rather throwing
the worst of the work on them—besides I wanted to go ahead in
order to make the survey.
Abd er Rahman, of course, could have found his way back quite
easily; but, though he carried a Martini-Henri carbine, he was a vile
shot, even at close range, as he funked the kick; moreover, he stood
in such awe of Qway that I was afraid, if they met, he would come off
second best in the event of a row, even with Dahab to back him up.
Ibrahim, however, cared no more for Qway than he did for an afrit
that threw clods, or for anyone else. With his flint-lock gun—bent
straight by Abdulla—he was a very fair shot; but he was young and
had had little experience of desert travelling, and I was very doubtful
whether he would be able to find his way. When I questioned him on
the subject, however, after a little hesitation and a long consultation
with Abd er Rahman, he declared his willingness to try, and his
brother said he thought he would be able to do it.
The next morning he set out with Dahab and the two worst
camels, carrying all the empty tanks. His instructions were to get
back as fast as possible to Mut, refill the tanks, and come out again
as quickly as he could with a larger caravan, if he could raise one,
and to beg, borrow or steal all the tanks and water-skins he could get
hold of in the oasis, and to bring them all back filled with water. I
gave him a note to the police officer, telling him what had happened
and asking him to help him in any way he could. I gave him my
second revolver and Dahab my gun, in case they should fall foul of
Qway on the way, and then packed them off, though with
considerable misgivings as to the result.
It was curious to see how the discovery that our tanks in the depot
had been emptied, in spite of the difficulties that it created, cheered
up the men. The feeling of suspense was over. We knew pretty well
what we were up against, and everyone, I think, felt braced up by the
crisis. Dahab looked a bit serious, but Ibrahim, with a gun over his
shoulder, and suddenly promoted to the important post of guide to a
caravan, even though it consisted of only two camels and an old
Berberine cook, was in the highest spirits. I had impressed on him
that the safety of his brother, his tribesman Abdulla and myself,
rested entirely on his brawny shoulders, and that he had the chance
of a lifetime of earning the much-coveted reputation among the
bedawin of being a gada (sportsman)—and a gada Ibrahim meant to
be, or die. I had no doubt at all of his intention of seeing the thing
through, if he possibly could. I only hoped that he would not lose his
way.
Having seen him off from the depot on the way back to Mut, I
turned camel driver and, with the remainder of the camels and all the
water we could carry, set out with Abd er Rahman to follow up
Qway’s tracks to relieve Abdulla. Abd er Rahman, too, rose to the
occasion and started off gaily singing in excellent spirits. I had told
him that I wanted to see whether he or Qway was the better man in
the desert, and the little Sudani had quite made up his mind that he
was going to come out top-dog.
CHAPTER XVIII

A BD ER RAHMAN was an excellent tracker.


There had been no wind to speak of since Qway had left the
depot, and the footprints on the sandy soil were as sharp and distinct
as when they were first made. By following Qway’s tracks we were
able to piece together the history of his journey with no uncertainty;
and a very interesting job it proved.
We followed his footprints for three days, and there was mighty
little that he did in that time that was not revealed by his tracks—Abd
er Rahman even pointed out one place where Qway had spat on the
ground while riding on his camel!
We could see where he had walked and led his mount, and where
he had mounted again and ridden. We could see where he walked
her and where he trotted; where he had curled himself up on the
ground beside her and slept at night, and all along his track, at
intervals, were the places where he had stopped to pray—the prints
of his open hands where he bowed to the ground, and even the mark
where he had pressed his forehead on the sand in prostration, were
clearly visibly. The Moslem prayers are said at stated hours, and
Qway was always extremely regular in his devotions. This prayerful
habit of his was of the greatest assistance to us, as it told us the time
at which he had passed each point.
Walking on foot he had led his camel behind him, when he left the
depot, till he reached Abdulla’s trail. He had then mounted and gone
forward at a slow shuffling trot. Abdulla also had left the depot on
foot, leading his hagin, and the tracks of Qway’s camel occasionally
crossed his spoor and overlaid them, showing that Abdulla and his
hagin were in front.
Abdulla had continued at a walk until Qway overtook him—as
shown by his tracks overlying those of Qway. Knowing the pace at
which Qway must have trotted and at which Abdulla would have
walked, by noting the time it took us to walk from the depot to where
Qway caught Abdulla up, we were able to estimate that Qway could
not have left the depot until Abdulla was nearly a mile and a half
away, and consequently too far off to see what he was doing.
After Qway joined on to Abdulla, the two men had ridden on
together till they reached Jebel el Bayed. Here, however, they had
halted and evidently consulted together for some time before
separating, as the ground all over a small area at this point was
closely trampled. On separating, Abdulla had gone off at a trot, as
arranged, towards the south, while Qway had sauntered leisurely
along towards the second hill, two days’ away to the south-west, or
Jebel Abdulla as the men had named it.
We concluded from Qway’s tracks, as dated by his praying
places, that he must be rather more than a long day’s journey ahead
of us.
We continued following his trail until the sun began to set, when,
as we did not want to overlook any tracks in the dark, we halted for
the night. We had got by that time into rather broken ground, cut up
into ridges and hills about twenty feet high, at the foot of one of
which we camped.
In spite of Abd er Rahman’s scandalised protests, I insisted on
doing my share of the work in the caravan. I helped him to unload
the camels, then, while he was feeding the beasts, I lit the fire and
made the tea.
Abd er Rahman returned and made bread, and I opened a small
tin of jam, which we shared together. Abd er Rahman then made
some coffee, and very well he did it; and after eating some dates I
produced a cigarette-case and we sat and smoked over the fire. The
result of this informal treatment on my part being that Abd er
Rahman became more communicative.
His views were those of a typical bedawi. He disapproved highly
of the way in which Qway had behaved. If we had been a caravan of
fellahin, he said, it would not have been so bad, but for a guide to
behave in that way to us who knew the nijem was, he considered,
the last word in treachery. To “know the nijem” (stars) by which the
Arabs steer at night means to have a knowledge of desert craft, an
accomplishment that forms perhaps the strongest possible
recommendation to the true bedawin.
He told me that when the mamur had had them all round to the
merkaz, and it came to be Qway’s turn to be questioned—the very
man of whom I had complained—directly he heard his name, he told
him he need give him no further details, as he knew all about him,
and that he was to be trusted to do his duty; but he apparently
omitted to specify what that duty was—the mamur was a nationalist.
When I asked if he felt afraid to go on with me after Qway, he
laughed, saying that he was quite as clever as he was in the desert,
having lived there nearly the whole of his life and had often travelled
long distances alone. So long as he had enough water he did not
care how far he went, provided I did not want to take him to the
Bedayat. He even volunteered to go with me to within sight of their
country, in order that I might be able to fix its position, provided he
did not see any tracks of theirs before getting there. He was highly
elated at having found Qway out, and very full of confidence in his
own abilities.
He then began to tell me some of his experiences. Once he had
been out in the desert with a single camel, when it had broken down
a long way from water. He had tied the camel up, slung a gurba on
his back, and, leaving his beast behind him, walked into the Nile
Valley. He arrived with his gurba empty and half dead from thirst, but
managed to crawl up to a watercourse, where he drank such an
enormous amount that he immediately vomited it all up again. He
managed to borrow another camel, with which he had taken water
out to the one he had abandoned in the desert. The latter was
almost dead on his arrival; but after drinking and resting for a day,
had been able to get back to safety.
When Arabs are running short of water, but their camels are still
able to travel, he said, they throw all their baggage down in the
desert, where no one but the worst of haramin (robbers) would touch
it, put all their water on to the camels and travel all through the night
and cool part of the day, resting in the shade, if there be any, during
the hot hours, and resuming their march as soon as it gets cool
again in the evening. In this way, occasionally riding their beasts to
rest, they can cover forty miles a day quite easily for several
consecutive days.
I asked whether he had ever heard of a man, when in difficulties,
cutting open his camel to drink the water from his stomach,
according to the little tales of my childhood’s days. This caused Abd
er Rahman considerable amusement. He pointed out that if a
caravan were in great straits from thirst, there would not be any
water in the stomachs of the camels. But he said he had heard of
several cases where a man, reduced to the last extremity, had killed
his camel, cut him open and got at the half-digested food in his
interior and had wrung the gastric juices out of it and drank them.
This fluid, he said, was so indescribably nasty, as to be hardly
drinkable, but, though it made a man feel still more thirsty, it enabled
him to last about another day without water.
While sitting over the fire with Abd er Rahman I heard a faint
sound from the west that sounded like a stone being kicked in the
distance. Abd er Rahman, who was, I believe, slightly deaf, was
unable to hear anything. I put my ear to the ground and listened for
some time, and at last heard the sound again, but apparently from a
greater distance than before.
Leaving Abd er Rahman in charge of the camels and taking my
rifle, I went off to see if anything was to be seen. The moon was too
faint and low at the time for any tracks to be visible. The whole
desert was bathed in a faint and ghostly light that made it impossible
to see any distance; so after watching for some time, and hearing no
further sounds, I returned and lay down for the night about a hundred
yards from Abd er Rahman and his camels.
It is curious how easily, in the absolute calm of a desert night, the
slightest sound is audible, and how quickly one wakes at the faintest
unusual noise. About midnight I started up. The distant sound of a
trotting camel approaching the camp was clearly audible, and the
camel was being ridden very fast. By that time the moon was high in
the heavens, making the surrounding desert visible for a
considerable distance, and presently I saw a solitary rider come
round the shoulder of the ridge near which we were camped,
sending his camel along at a furious pace.
Instantly I heard Abd er Rahman’s sharp, threatening challenge
and saw him slinging his carbine forward in readiness for an attack.
The answer came back in a hoarse exhausted voice and was
apparently satisfactory, for the camel man rode into the camp, his
camel fell down on his knees, and the man got—or rather fell—off on
to the ground.
I sang out to Abd er Rahman to ask who it was. He called back
that it was Abdulla and, after bending for a few moments over his
prostrate form, came running across to where I lay. Abdulla and his
hagin were, he said, extremely exhausted; but he had told him that
there was no danger and that we could do nothing before daylight
and had begun a long statement about Qway having turned back, in
the middle of which he had fallen asleep. I went over to the camp to
look at him. His long attenuated form was stretched out along the
ground, almost where he had dismounted, plunged in the deepest of
slumbers; so, as I saw no object in disturbing him, and wanted him to
be as fresh as possible on the morrow, I went back to my bed and
followed his example, leaving Abd er Rahman to keep watch, till he
woke me to take my turn at keeping guard later in the night.
Abdulla, on the following morning, looked hollow-eyed, and, if
possible, thinner about the face than ever; but beyond having
obviously had a severe fright, he seemed to be little worse for his
ride; the Sudanese have wonderful recuperative powers. His hagin,
however, was terribly tucked up, and he had evidently had to ride
him extremely hard; but he was a fine beast, and otherwise did not
seem to have suffered much from his exertions, for he was making a
most hearty breakfast.
Abdulla’s nerves, however, seemed to have been very badly
shaken. He spoke in a wild incoherent way, very different from his
usual slow, rather drawling, speech. He rambled so much in his
account of what had happened, and introduced so many abusive
epithets directed at Qway, that at times it was rather difficult to follow
him, and Abd er Rahman had to help me out occasionally by
explaining his meaning.
Qway, in the depot, had dawdled so over his preparations for
leaving the camp that Abdulla, with his eye probably on the
bakhshish I had promised him, had become impatient at the delay.
At the last moment, just before he was ready to start, Qway calmly
sat down, lighted a fire and began to make tea. Abdulla expostulated
at this delay, but Qway assured him that there was no immediate
hurry, told him that as soon as he had finished his tea and filled his
gurba, he would start, and suggested that he had better go on before
him and that he would follow and catch him up.
After he had gone some distance, Abdulla looked back and saw
Qway hauling the tanks about, which struck him at the time as a
rather unnecessary performance; but as Qway explained, when he
overtook him, that he had only been rearranging the depot and
placing the sacks of barley so as more effectually to shade the tanks,
his suspicions had been lulled. Just before they separated, Qway
had told him that he intended to get out as far as he could, so as to
earn a very big bakhshish, and he hoped to go three and a half days
more before he turned back. He advised Abdulla to do the same.
For most of the first day after leaving Qway, Abdulla kept turning
things very slowly over in his “feeble head,” and, towards the end of
the second day, it began to occur to him that Qway’s long delay in
the depot was rather suspicious; so before proceeding any farther
along his route, he thought it advisable to ride across and have a
look at the old track he had made himself on his previous journey, to
make sure that Qway was keeping to his share of the arrangement,
by following it towards Jebel Abdulla.
On reaching his track he saw no sign of Qway having passed that
way, so becoming seriously uneasy, he rode back along it hoping to
meet him. At a distance of only about a day from Jebel el Bayed he
found the place where Qway had turned back, which as he had told
him he intended to go for another two and a half days farther,
convinced him that something was very seriously wrong. He then
apparently became panic-stricken and came tearing back along his
tracks to make sure that we were coming out to meet him and that
the depot had not been interfered with.
Qway, he said, had returned along his tracks for some distance,
until he had got within sight of Jebel el Bayed, when he had turned
off towards the western side of the hill, apparently with the object of
avoiding the caravan, which according to the arrangement, he knew
would be following Abdulla’s track on its eastern side.
It struck me that as Qway’s track lay to the west of our camp, the
sounds I had heard during the preceding evening from that direction
had probably been caused by him as he rode past us in the dark, so
I sent Abd er Rahman off to see if he could find anything, while
Abdulla and I packed up and loaded the camels.
Abd er Rahman returned in great glee to announce that I had
been right in my conjecture, and that he had found Qway’s track; so
we started out to follow it. To the west of the camp was a ridge of
ground that lay between our position and Qway’s footprints, and this
may perhaps have prevented my seeing him, and certainly would
have made it impossible for him to see either us or our fire.
Qway had passed us at a considerable distance, for it took us
twenty-one minutes to reach his trail, which shows the extraordinary
way in which even the slightest sounds carry in the desert on a still
night.
As we followed his track we discussed the position. It was clear
that, as Qway, when he left the depot, only had five days’ water in
the two small tanks I had given him, he would be forced before long
to renew his supply from our tanks, as he had already been three
days away from the depot.
Abd er Rahman, instead of making our depot at Jebel el Bayed,
as I had told him to do, on account of it being such a conspicuous
landmark, had, fortunately as it turned out, made it about half a day
to the north of the hill, in the middle of a very flat desert with no
landmark of any kind in the neighbourhood. When the tanks and
grain sacks composing the depot were all piled up they made a heap
only about three feet high and, as the sacks, which had been laid on
the top of the tanks to keep off the sun, were almost the colour of
their sandy surroundings, our little store of water and grain was quite
invisible, except at a very short distance to anyone not blessed with
perfect sight, and Qway was rather deficient in this respect. He
would consequently experience very great difficulty in finding that
depot, unless he struck our tracks.
SKETCH PLAN OF TRACK ROUND JEBEL EL
BAYED.

As we continued to follow his footprints, it became clear that this


was what he was aiming at, for his route, that at first had been
running nearly due north, gradually circled round Jebel el Bayed till it
ran almost towards the east, evidently with the intention of cutting
the tracks that we had made the day before. His trail went steadily
on, circling round the great black hill behind us without a single halt
to break the monotony of the journey.
We had been following his spoor for about three hours and a half
when we reached the point where his trail met and crossed the one
that we had made ourselves and, as Qway had not hesitated for a
moment, it was clear that in the uncertain moonlight he had passed it
unnoticed.
As we continued to follow his tracks, presently it became evident
that he had been considerably perplexed. Several times he had
halted to look round him from the top of some slight rise in the
ground, and had then ridden on again in the same easterly direction
and repeated the process.
Abd er Rahman, on seeing these tracks, was beside himself with
delight. He slapped his thigh and burst out laughing, exclaiming that
Qway was lost, and “Praise be to Allah” had only got five days’ water
supply. Abdulla, if anything, seemed even more pleased.
After a time Qway apparently concluded that he would wait till
daylight before proceeding any farther, for we found the place where
he had lain down to sleep. That he had started off again before dawn
was clear from the fact that he had not prayed where he slept, but
nearly an hour’s journey farther on.
We followed him for a little farther, but as the afternoon was then
far spent, I thought it best to return to the depot for the night, in case
Qway should get there before us.
Frequently when out in the desert I had occasion to send Qway,
or one of the men away from the caravan, to climb a hill to see if
anything was to be seen from the summit, to scout ahead of the
caravan, or for some other purpose, and as there was always a risk
that the absentee might not get back to the caravan by dark I had a
standing arrangement that if anyone got lost from this cause I would
send up a rocket half an hour after sunset, and a second one a
quarter of an hour later, to enable him to find the camp. These two
rockets were accordingly fired from the depot and, moreover, as it
was an absolutely windless night, a candle was lighted and left
burning on the top of a pile of stones to attract his attention in the
dark, if he were anywhere in the neighbourhood. I hoped by this
means to induce him to come in and give himself up, in preference to
risking a possible death by thirst—but he never materialised.
In the morning we set out again to follow his track. I could not
exactly leave him to die of thirst, if he had really got lost, and I also
wanted to know what he was doing. As the camels were getting into
a very poor condition, owing to the hard work they had had and the
short water allowance I had put them on, we left all the baggage in
the depot, and took them along with us, carrying only sufficient water
for our own use during the day.
We picked up Qway’s trail where we had left it and, after following
it for some distance, found where he had reached the old faint
footprints left by Abdulla on his first journey, when he had ridden out
alone to Jebel Abdulla. They had clearly puzzled him extremely. He
dismounted and stood for some time examining the track and
scanning the surrounding desert, as was clear from the number of
footprints he had left at the place and the number of directions in
which they pointed.
After a considerable amount of hesitation, he again set off in the
same easterly direction he had been previously following, probably
still hoping to find the tracks of the caravan that he had crossed in
the moonlight without seeing.
I wanted Abdulla to get on his hagin and follow his tracks at a trot,
hoping that in that level country, as Qway was only travelling at a
walk, he would be able to overtake him sufficiently to sight him from
a distance. But he had not recovered his nerve from the fright he had
experienced and flatly refused to leave us, so we continued to follow
the tracks together.
After riding for some distance farther, Qway had again climbed to
the crest of a low ridge. Here he had stood for some time, his
footprints pointing in all directions, endeavouring to pick up the
bearings of the depot and the route that he had followed when he
had left it.
But that bit of desert might have been especially made for the
purpose of confusing an erring guide. As far as could be seen in all
directions stretched a practically level expanse of sandy soil,
showing no landmark to guide him, except where the great black
bulk of Jebel el Bayed heaved itself up from the monotonous
surface. We could tell from his tracks that he had reached that point
not much before midday, when, at that time of the year, the sun was
almost directly overhead, and consequently of little use to indicate
the points of the compass. From where he had stood, Jebel el Bayed
itself would have been of little use to guide him, for though the hill
had two summits lying roughly east and west of each other, the
western one was from that point hidden by the eastern, which was of
such a rounded form that it looked almost exactly the same shape
from all angles on its eastern side.
Qway at last had evidently given up the problem. He had
remounted his camel, ridden round a circle a hundred yards or so in
diameter in a final attempt to pick up his bearings, and then had
made off at a sharp trot towards the north. Abd er Rahman was in
ecstasies.
“Qway’s lost. Qway’s lost.” He turned grinning delightedly to me. “I
told you I was a better guide than Qway.” Then he suddenly grew
solemn. Much as he hated the overbearing Arab, he had worked with
him for two seasons, and, as he had said, there is a bond of union
between those who “know the nijem.” “He will die. It is certain he will
die. He only had five days’ water, and it is four days since he left the
depot. He is not going where the water is, but he is making for the
‘Valley of the Rat.’ It is certain he will die of thirst. His camel has had
no water for four days.”
Abdulla took a more hard-hearted view, and after the way in which
Qway had treated him, he could hardly be blamed. “Let the cursed
Arab die,” said the Sudani. “The son of a dog is only a traitor.”
We followed Qway’s footprints for a short distance. But he had
been travelling very fast, and it was obvious that we should never
catch him up. He was off on a non-stop run to Mut, and as our own
water supply was by no means too plentiful, I thought we had better
follow his example; so I told Abdulla to take us back to the depot. It
was then about noon.
Abdulla looked at Jebel el Bayed, glanced at the sun and looked
round the horizon, scratched his cheek in perplexity, and said he did
not know where the depot was, but he thought it must be there—he
pointed somewhere towards the north-west. Abd er Rahman,
however, was emphatic in saying that that was not the right direction,
and indicated a point about west as being its position.
After some discussion, as they were unable to agree, Abd er
Rahman turned to me and asked me to look at my compass to
decide the direction in which we were to go. Unfortunately, I had left
the compass in camp and had not been making a traverse of Qway’s
tracks, as I had done on the previous day. We had all been too keen
on reading Qway’s spoor to pay much attention to the changes in its
direction, and so found ourselves in the same dilemma as Qway.
It was a furiously hot still day, and the sun shining almost
perpendicularly down made the whole horizon dance with mirage,
producing the impression that we were standing on a low sand bank
in a vast sheet of water, whose distant shores flickered continuously
in the heat haze—a veritable “devil’s sea” as the natives call it.
I had only the vaguest idea as to where the depot lay, but as I had
to decide in which direction to go, I told them I felt quite certain that it
stood west north-west—about half-way between the two bearings
pointed out by the men. It was a mere guess, based on the
assumption that they were neither of them very far wrong, but that
their errors lay on either side of the true direction. As luck would
have it, I was much nearer right than either of the others, a fact that
greatly increased their respect for my knowledge of the nijem!
After marching for a couple of hours or so, Abd er Rahman
peered for a moment into the distance and announced that he saw
the depot ahead of us. Neither Abdulla nor I could see anything.
After some difficulty, however, I managed to identify the object to
which Abd er Rahman was pointing, but all I could make out was an
indistinct and shapeless blur, dancing and continually changing its
shape in the mirage. Abd er Rahman, however, was most positive
that it was the goal for which we were making, and, as I knew his
extraordinary powers for identifying objects in similar circumstances,
we made towards it and found that he had been correct.
We rested in the depot until sunset. Just before starting, it struck
us that possibly we might pass Ibrahim and Dahab on the road. The
arrangement I had made with them was that, if they failed to see us
before reaching the depot, they were to leave as much water there
as they could and return at once to Mut. But I wanted to arrange
some means by which they should know where we had gone in the
event of their reaching the depot. A letter was the obvious method,
but Dahab was the only man in the caravan who could read or write,
and I was doubtful whether he would come out again, as I had told
him not to do so if he got at all knocked up on the journey back to
Mut. Ibrahim, of course, was wholly illiterate, like the other two
Sudanese, so it was difficult to see how I could communicate with
him, if he came out alone. Abd er Rahman, however, was quite equal
to the emergency. He told me that he would write Ibrahim a “letter”
that he would understand, and, taking a stick scratched his wasm
(tribe mark) deeply into the soil, and then drew a line from it in the
direction of Dakhla, the “letter” when finished being as follows: ,
the mark being his wasm. This letter, Abd er Rahman said,
meant, “I, belonging to the tribe who use this wasm, have gone in the
direction of the line I have drawn from it.” This important
communication having been completed, we set out on our return
journey.

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