'The First Of Many' LGBTI Pride in Bosnia & Herzegovina 2019

In early September, last year, I participated in the most inspiring, courageous and progressive event I have ever been a part of during my whole activist life. This event was the first LGBTI Pride March in Bosnia & Herzegovina.

My presence in Sarajevo was only the second time I had marched for LGBTI rights in the Western Balkans. Before then it was in Podgorica, and subsequently in the inaugural Dyke March in Tirana. They were also the first pride marches for me where violence or attacks were a real possibility. I was out of my comfort zone.

Why, I hear you ask, would you want to go? Well, on the activist side, I am a member of Rainbow Rose, a social democrat LGBTI campaign and advocacy group, which seeks to further LGBTI rights across Europe. My task is to focus this work on the Western Balkans, working with our Party of European Socialist sister parties and LGBTI NGOs to achieve that. On a personal level, I am privileged to have come out and grown up in the UK during a time of fundamental social and political change concerning LGBTI rights. Activists before me, from the 1950s onwards, had put the case for change forward, and marched in their thousands so that people like me can be seen and counted. I wanted to support my LGBTI community in a country that pressures them into hiding their identity.

So, with Rainbow Rose, I organised a small delegation to support the organisers of the first pride. For four days I would be in Sarajevo, meeting with SDP BiH members and NGO activists, and participating in the march.

However, my initial apprehension about visiting Sarajevo and being explicitly ‘gay’ was first tested during my flight. I had taken a now familiar route whereby I had to transfer in Vienna. On this occasion, unlike earlier in the year, I had time to switch flights in less of a rush. I sat by the window next to a married couple in their 50s. I glanced over as they were both looking at the wife’s phone. It was a post on Facebook that they were looking at. It showed a mathematical equation containing screws and nuts. A screw and a screw equalled a big red cross. The same result was given for two nuts together. However, a big green tick was the result when a screw and a nut were added together. The couple chuckled at the message it promoted.

I do not know whether they laughed because they agreed with its message, or because of the absurdity of the picture and its meaning, but I felt very uncomfortable sat next to them for the next hour. I made sure not to play any film or programme on my laptop with an LGBTI theme, nor take out my paperwork for the visit. Neither did I challenge them. I didn’t want my cherished opinion of Sarajevo to be dinted by any anti-LGBTI sentiment or aggression.

So, it was with these emotions that I disembarked the plane and left the airport. A sweeping and crashing thunderstorm that roared overhead, a mere 15 minutes after landing, was somewhat ominous.

However, my perception and expectations ahead of the march began to take a turn for the better. That evening, I read up that we may have to call at a police station to register our stay. As we were heading out anyway, we found one local station and went in. A few police officers were heading out, and a couple were in a side room having a conversation, guns and batons clipped to their sides. I gesticulated that we needed attention, and an officer came out. I started speaking English, so he called over a colleague. I explained that were in an apartment for a few days, and that we had come to register our stay. He looked a little bemused and rhetorically asked that if we were wanting to the pay the city tax, then offered that we didn’t have to. Caught a little off guard, I continued that we were just here until Monday and that I read we needed to register. It was at this point, and out of nowhere, he said in a functional manner “Are you here for the march?”. I must have immediately blushed, but Joseph who I was with, with almost precise comedy timing and a hue of innocence, said “What?”. The officer, perhaps blushing himself for speaking out of turn, said “Let me see your passports” and rather quickly said we did not need to register, and hoped we had a pleasant trip. All I could do was scream in relief once we reached around the corner of the building.

Yet, despite my own fear of being ‘outed’ in a police station and presuming things may have taken a sour turn, this was a small acknowledgement that the march had indeed seeped in to the public consciousness; even if it was only because this officer would be patrolling the march. The next day, another small incident allowed me to move towards cautious optimism for the march.

Once my core delegation was complete, with Jose arriving the following day, we decided to take a trip up Trebević, the location of the 1984 Winter Olympic bobsled course. A steep walk to the base station, led to a very enjoyable ride on the newly re-opened cable car system with incredible views. There were a number of fellow tourists, but not overbearing. We walked along the old bobsled track, with its abundance of graffiti. As the four of us walked along, Jose and Joseph spoke in Spanish. It was during this conversation that one guy in a group of three interjected as he walked past. He was curious as to where my friends came from, and they had a brief conversation about Spain. The conclusion to this was that the passer-by asked if we would be attending the pride march tomorrow. My heart sank, accepting that in all of the places, we would have to be called out for being gay on a quiet mountain side. Jose almost flirtingly replied “Of course”, and with that came a positive acknowledgement from the guy that he would see us there. Amazing.

Another small, whispered comment was made to Jose once we left a restaurant the day before the march. During the dinner, Julie Ward, former Labour MEP for the North West of England, regaled to us her story of getting a taxi from Sarajevo airport to her hotel, where she candidly told the driver that she was here for the march. His reply was one of enthusiasm, and a discussion ensued of the benefits of the march. After eating, as we departed, one of the waiters caught Jose and said “Good luck for tomorrow”. At a bar later on, where we met other social democrats who had come to march, one of them overheard locals discussing the march tomorrow. I asked in what way were they discussing it, positively or negatively. He said more ‘matter of fact-ly’.

Evidently, this was a much talked about event and one that hadn’t rallied the mass opposition that some of their number had hoped. There was a rally a few days before the march, where the religious participants, rather foolishly, used balloons in the colour of the Trans flag to try and make a point about boys, girls and families being harmed by such a display of queerness. Another protest was planned on the day itself.

Sunday had arrived, and there was a sense of occasion about the main event. We followed the strict directions, as agreed by the pride organisers and police, as to where we needed to enter and what we were allowed to bring in. The police operation was firm but very professional – at the start and throughout. Those familiar with Sarajevo will know how one minute you are walking down tightknit roads and side streets, hidden by the towering 18^th century buildings in this part of town; only to then be on an open plaza or river embankment in full view of the hillsides. We met our fuller delegation in the square in front of the Sarajevo Youth Theatre, to have a coffee and do formal photos of our attendance.

I watched as people funnelled through security, a few not heeding the warning to not wear LGBTI regalia until through security. Many were in groups, but others came as couples or by themselves. Many were evidently heterosexual, which was heartening to see. But once through security, the colours began to bloom. On flags and banners, on t-shirts, on people’s faces with paint or glitter. Where we were, we could hear the thud of drums not too far away, and the echo of a voice on a loudhailer. On the square where we were, the sound of whoops and squeals reverberated every time a planned rendezvous had been accomplished.

We then made our way to the main street, a minute’s walk away. The security cordon stretched between the Eternal Flame Memorial and the Central Bank, on the main westbound road from the Old Town called ‘Marshal Tito’. We turned the corner and saw a sizeable gathering that must have numbered over the expected turnout of a thousand already. We were 45 minutes away from the start. I managed to say a hello to a few activists I knew, before finding a spot to situate ourselves. Someone asked if I could say a piece to camera to say why I was here, and why it was important. I duly obliged.

As more people began to fill our space, the atmosphere became electric. Drums were banging, whistles were blowing, and a wave of chanting flowed over the crowd. Rainbow flags were furiously brandished, and placards with an array of messages were jumping up and down overhead. The crowd was well over two thousand by now.

And then all of a sudden, with a cacophony of whoops and wails, we were off. And it couldn’t have been more peaceful, felt more liberating, nor garnered as much positive support than if you wished it. At first, there were no passers-by on the street along which we walked, but you could see faces in the windows of the apartments above. Only the odd face here and there, expressing curiosity. But then I noticed a young family, outside on the balcony, and they were waving. We then approached a modern mall, which had a roof terrace. It was packed with people watching. But that was it; neither cheering or heckling. Just observing. The crowd waived cheerily at them.

And as we went along, we kept seeing more faces in windows, and then people waving back. The scene that was often repeated, and which I got real emotion from, was seeing older women in their 60s and 70s, waving and clapping alone from their windows. What I took from that, and this is only a theoretical proposition with no anecdotal evidence, was they were expressing nostalgia for a time when everyone was equal, and understood having lives with and through hardship. I took their support to be one of compassion and understanding. It was just a feeling, but one that carried me all the way along the march.

We walked past aging mosques, the Presidential Office, many a war-torn building, but never any hatred. The only signs of dissent were the appearance of buses used to block the main roads into the city that crossed our route. And even then, you couldn’t see protestors. As we approached the Parliament area, a raucous cheer went up, as people in front of us turned 90 degrees to the right to look back at something. As I reached that point, I saw an elegantly dressed woman in her 70s or 80s, in a ground floor window. She had jet black hair, a black top and a large white beaded necklace. She was blowing kisses to us all. My heart lifted.

Meanwhile, as I was marching, I made a comment about someone’s t-shirt that had a sheep on it and mentioned Wales. Two women in their 50s next to me exclaimed “We’ve been to Wales!”. It turned out; they were from Sarajevo and had studied in Aberystwyth University for a number of years. We had a lovely chat about the film Pride.

The march then poured into an area where the two main roads merged, and opened out to a large expanse where the Parliament was situated. Those familiar with the siege of Sarajevo will recall many a photo or video footage of people hiding or running across this area, under the threat of sniper fire. I felt our presence now was also an act of reclaiming this space from the past. Opposite the parliament building on two sides were modern shopping malls. The terraces were again packed with observers.

The pride organisers stood upon some steps and made proclamatory speeches. My colleague, Dajana Bakic, started off proceedings. This was followed by a local artist singing two songs. One, I was told, was a Yugoslav anti-fascist song, which the crowd sung with gusto. The other was Bella Ciao, the Italian peasant song turned revolutionary anthem. Overall, the blend of LGBTI and anti-fascism proved a dynamic match, rousing a nostalgic call to arms akin to ‘Brotherhood and Unity’ but for modern times.

As proceedings ended, people sought friends who they missed during the march and caught up. Others were reeling from the high of the first LGBTI march in Bosnia & Herzegovina. Many were invited to a reception in the nearby Museum, our delegation included. This was set up to ensure a safe space following the march, should protestors try and attack people as they left. Buses were parked nearby for those to travel home, if they came from places like Banja Luka or Belgrade. At the museum, we met acquaintances old and new, and chatted with the Spanish and British Ambassadors, who were very pleasant indeed. A thunderstorm left as quickly as it arrived, but brought the reception to a natural end. Our delegation went its separate ways, but those staying for another day returned to the apartment. 

That evening, we reunited with our friend from the bobsled track on Trebević, as we were invited to a house party hosted by his friend. The evening was spent making new friends and drinking copious amounts of homemade rakija. The next day, we visited the grocery shop downstairs. In the magazine racks, I noticed one publication that had a rainbow flag on it. Inside was a 4-page article on LGBTI pride, with pictures taken of that summer’s Europride in Vienna. The magazine happened to be the most popular women’s weekly magazine in Bosnia & Herzegovina. No wonder public awareness was so high.

And so, that was my pride in Sarajevo. My departure was filled with a lot more optimism than when I arrived, and it taught me an important lesson. Don’t just count those who show opposition, and then let that skew your judgement and preconceptions of a place or people. Allow for the positive shows of support to boost your hopes for the event, and indeed the future. Also, don’t discount those who show indifference as being negative by default. The law of averages would indicate that they are neither agitated nor motivated – it’s just not a priority for them.

Until the next Bosnia & Herzegovina Pride!

Around the Balkans in 20 Days – Part 6

I arose in an excited and over zealous mood. Yes, I was partially still drunk from the night before, questioning how I got home alongside why I was awake so soon after having gone to sleep. 5 or so hours were enough for sleep, surely?

Anyway, John, who was not eager to leave the apartment anytime soon, did not receive my mood well at all. He worked around it as best he could. I was very keen to visit Tito’s resting place, given that I missed out on that the last time I was in Belgrade. Through the miracle of washing away the vestiges of last night’s debauchery with a shower, and John now more carried by his need for food, we left the apartment around 11am. We descended the communal staircase, admiring the art deco style windows and peered nosily into the courtyard that was the heart of the square block of buildings. A space of serenity in the middle of the city.

We ventured up to Trg Republika, getting a coffee and a pastry on our way as we found our bearings. I managed to look up the bus route to get to the House of Flowers, the formal name for Tito’s resting place, which said to go to a bus stop near the Federal Parliament. So we crossed to Makedonska, and turned immediately right onto Decanska that led to Trg Nikole Pasica. The municipal buildings that dominated this stretch were built at the turn of the century, and had early Modernist styles with minimal ornamentation. This would have been Serbia’s own attempt at emulating the capitals of Western Europe, and in putting distance between them and their Ottoman heritage. Upon approaching the square, the opulent green dome of the Federal Parliament came into view. You would have imagined the Skupstina to be larger, but in fact it stood out from the buildings that surrounded it by being smaller than they. The dark behemoth that was the main post office loomed behind the pale Skupstina.

We walked in front of the parliament to look at the banners that were laid out in front of it. We deciphered the Serbo-Croatian to understand the thrust of the message was the plight of the Serbs in Kosovo. A denunciation of NATO was also thrown into the mix. However, no people accompanied the banners. They had been put up and left by their owners, and evidently in no way to the annoyance of the parliamentary authorities. We didn’t want to linger in case we looked interested in the subject matter and guilty by association, so continued to our bus stop.

After only a short wait in the sunshine next to a rather busy road, our trolleybus greeted us. John soon perked up at the immanent experience he was about to have on his first trolleybus ride. We boarded at the front, behind two people we presumed were local to the city. Once our turn arrived, I asked the driver for two tickets to the Tito Mausoleum. Not initially catching what I was saying as English, the driver motioned to repeat my request. I changed tack and asked if the bus went to the Tito Mausoleum. He said yes, but by the time I offered him some Denars through the small opening in his driver’s booth, he waved both my money away and the two of us into the bus. I suppose the double complication of having to explain the cost and the evident need to depart meant he would save time and effort just to let us on - perhaps with some knowledge that no ticket inspectors were patrolling today.

We went all the way to the back of the bus, where two seats were located behind the final set of bus doors and presumably perched on top of the engine. Straightaway, we were heading downhill on a long and straight road heading in a southerly direction, which soon flattened out. I had looked up the route to get there; to verify that the bus route went as intended, and indeed to check our bus was corresponding to that. We passed a number of prominent buildings, some smaller but displaying flags of different countries. We assumed this must be the government quarter with a smattering of embassies. We sped over a bridge that passed the intersection of the main motorway on which we arrived to Belgrade on the previous day. We then bared left on to a leafier thoroughfare that ran alongside Hajd Park – yes, eponymous with London’s own city lungs.

Although I knew our stop was close by, prepared by my pressing the bell and standing up, when the bus came to a full stop the driver peered through his window to beckon us off. How very helpful and friendly of him. I disembarked, still fuzzy in my head with the last ebbs of being drunk now merging into a hangover.  This was not how I imagined turning up to the mausoleum that I was always intrigued to visit.

The grand façade of the main building of the complex was upon us as soon as we began the walk uphill from the bus stop. Its large, wing-like expanse was typical of the theme of brutalist architecture we seemed to be pursuing, but was less severe than its contemporaries of the 1960s. This building, the 25 May Museum, was the main complex that was opened in 1962 to house gifts Tito had received up to that date. This was to be the last of the three buildings we were to visit. We approached a small building on the left that contained the ticket office and shop. For a small fee, we could access the aforementioned museum, the House of Flowers, and the Old Museum. We walked up the path, flanked by the odd statue here and there, and came around to the entrance to the House of Flowers, water fountain trickling in the background as we entered.

Whether the interior had been refurbished or not, the décor was very 1970s conservatory chic. Concrete and glass, with magnolia washed walls, meant that the odd pieces of 1970’s Danish furniture stuck out prominently. The marble tomb of the late dictator lay it the centre, sun shining from up on high, but secluded from us periodically by Mediterranean foliage acting as guards. In one wing of the room there were displays of Tito’s personal belongings. In the other there was a hoard of what looked like 1980s darts trophies. It threw me to try and recall why I had not picked up during my studies on Tito that he was a keen darts player. It turns out that they were in fact batons. Originally, these were symbols of youth in Socialist Yugoslavia, that were carried around the country to arrive in Belgrade on Tito’s birthday, which he shared with the Day of Youth national holiday. But then the idea expanded, so that all of the formal socialist and communist organisations – national through to local – would present them to Tito when he visited.

Onwards then to the Old Museum, that contained oddities from Yugoslavia’s past, particularly from the founding of Socialist Yugoslavia in the 1940s. My favourite was a wall mounted geographical relief map of Yugoslavia. I really wanted it. We then visited the final building, but not before my buying a coffee cup and saucer and Yugoslavia tote bag from the gift shop as souvenirs. The last building had less content, and what there was of it was in Serbo-Croatian. However, what I did enjoy was a minimalist map that was painted onto the wall. I bizarrely find fascination in different language scripts, and the names of the major cities on this map I really appreciated. I was mystified what this map could possibly represent. By process of elimination I gathered the names of some of the cities that weren’t capitals, and noted Jasenovac. I also noted that one of the words said ‘Revolution’ – so perhaps it indicated sites of monuments to the revolution that I knew dotted the former Yugoslavia. I took a picture so I could study it later on.

Nearby was the Partisan Football stadium and I suggested we pop by there, knowing John was a football fan, and that his dad may appreciate a visit to something non-politics/history orientated. In the fragile state he was in, and knowing the violent history of the fans of the team based there, he decided we shouldn’t go. Yet we also decided to walk back to the city, despite our sorry state, as we wanted to get a closer look at the buildings we saw on our journey over. It was definitely not the case that we were put off from having to negotiate a bus ride back.

So off we walked towards the motorway intersection. A new railway station was being built to our right, perhaps to replace or complement the old one what will sit next to the newly regenerate riverside development. Over the motorway we returned, and the avenue of the government quarter began with a harsh reminder of recent history. After consultation by John of Wikimapia, the bombed out building before us was the former Ministry of Internal Affairs. It was the target of NATO bombing in 1999 in order to get Milosevic to submit to demands for his regime to withdraw from Kosovo. This placed the somewhat visible resentment towards NATO through graffiti in context, but was not acted out through resentment towards nationals from those countries that made up NATO, as evidenced by our bus driver earlier. It was eerie witnessing my first example of a missile attack and the scale of the destruction that it can cause.

We walked along the traffic-jammed artery towards the Parliament ahead, commenting on the architecture and using our new found friend in Wikimapia to feed us details of buildings that intrigued us. Many of the buildings were built after the Second World War, so were modernist in design and emblazoned with images of communist warriors or socialist stars. As we started to incline again back to the city proper, another bombed out building bookended this segment of the avenue. This time it was the Armed Forces building. A few hundred yards on, we decided to take a left and walk amongst the tight-knit buildings towards the Kalemegdan, as it would provide much needed shade from the sun and not have as steep a walk to get to the main high street. We meandered through blocks of housing and offices, noting a few al fresco-dining establishments for future reference. We then appeared alongside Hotel Moscow again. Its vibrantly coloured and glazed tile façade stood out from the brutalist monotony surrounding it.

Back at the fortress, we took a bit more time to do some exploring. After rounding the fortress wall as before, we wondered within the grounds to look at some of the buildings and monuments. One was a small hexagonal building, topped with terracotta roof tiles, with a plaque in Serbo-Croatian and Arabic above a caged wooden door. It was a mausoleum for a Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire and two other muhafiz (Belgrade Governors). It was nice to see one of the few historical reminders that the Ottoman Empire had a presence here. As we continued our walk around, we came across a roof terrace bar built into the ramparts. The negative side of having a tourist attraction is the rampant commercialisation that accompanies it. We avoided it.

After a while, we unconsciously found ourselves heading back to the apartment. Before departing for another late dinner, we played a few games of cards again, drinking the remains of our alcohol. We picked another restaurant on the Skardalija to eat, deciding on a bottle of Tikves white wine to accompany our food. Towards the end of our meal, the house band that was doing the rounds came nearby to serenade the table behind us. They added to the jovial mood that the diners were in, including us. On a roll from last night’s ability to locate a gay bar, we decided to try and find another. However, we were not so lucky this time. We wondered through and around a block of buildings that had the Parliament building, Hotel Moscow and Trg Republika surrounding it. At times I thought we stood out a mile, looking for a place we couldn’t locate but passersby would know our secret mission and destination. After circulating 3 times, we abandoned our search and went home. But not before stopping by a hole in the wall that was a small pizzeria, selling only capricciosa pizza with a handful of choices for toppings. It was delicious.

My Images of SEE – 18:15, Thursday 25th August

I wondered to the continental breakfast, and read up on the rail times to Ljubljana. Ideally there should be one at 12:30. I asked the receptionist for an iron, which she had and passed it over. I ironed, washed & changed, then left for the day.

I walked north, towards the train station, retracing my steps from last night. The sun was on form again today, even at an early hour as this. I passed under the railway station, then up to the first of 3 green squares leading to the main Jelacic Square. The squares were more rectangle, surrounded by Austrian type buildings, and all looking to a similar style building at the centre of the square. Trams hummed by and cars crossed by along east/west roads, opposite to the north/south squares.
 

 

I passed the archaeological museum on my left, leaving it for later. I walked up to the main square. All the while the buildings were of the same era – Austro-Hungarian. A large, dark stature centered on the city’s main square, that of Ban Jelacic, whom the square is named after. I walked to the right, and up a hill, swinging around to the left of the buildings that were initially in front of me. To my right was a massive twin towered Cathedral. I ended up wondering around a market, and bought my tourist necessities. Wasps buzzing around the fruit made my stay short. I went back down the hill, still behind the initial face of buildings behind the square’s statue, to reach a café. I had a rest and a read.
 

 

I then took this curving road that I was on, up the cobbled street, up towards a square that contained the Croatian ‘Sabor’ or Parliament. A cobbled square, dominated by a colourful church, contained not only the Parliament but (judging by the Ministerial-type cars) also many Ministries. A nearby road contained the Museum of Croatia. I walked down the thin street to reach it, and entered, walking up the stairs to pay. They only had an exhibition of the very Ban Jelacic whose statue I saw earlier and have read about. So I went in eager. They had a mass personal collection of the Ban’s from his private former home. This ranged from the outfit he wore for his induction as Ban, to letter of congratulations he received; to household possessions and personal items such as weapons and pipes. It was an intriguing visit.

I then walked south to a lovely view of the city below. A few feet on, you could see the Cathedral again. I went down the hill, back to the main square. I stopped off at a café for a beer to whet my mouth during the strong noon sun. I moved on then, heading to Trg Marsala Tita (Tito again), and stopped off on the way to buy a t-shirt. I then made my way to the Ethnographic Museum. Luckily it was free today. So I wondered around the ‘fire’ exhibition they had on, then to the garments worn by Croats of old. Similar to other regions that I have been to, in that they are ornate and colourful. I then went back to a square just off the main one for a lunch break.

I then meandered through side streets to the archaeological museum. It had varied exhibits – both from home and abroad. It had a selection of mummies & coffins. Vast amounts of pottery and jewelry; and to my taste – coins. I spent over an hour there. I then went back to the small square for a beer and read.
 

 I then walked slowly back to the hotel. Under the railway station, I looked for an English newspaper. I have done the entire time I have been out here, but only the Financial Times I have stopped twice and is not to my liking. But alas, I found the Guardian for 24KN. I could read something at length, physically, in English. Hurrah. I then walked back to the hotel to rest and read.

The ‘nationalism’ question in Communist states

Given the vast number of states that had Communist regimes during the 20^th century, this post will aim to compare the approaches to dealing with nationalism in the former Soviet Union and former Yugoslavia, during the early life of those regimes. In doing so, I will initially define terms such as ‘nationalism’, ‘nationality’ and the ‘nation’, using views expressed by leading scholars, and those held by leading Communists. This will enable me to link communism to nationalism as an ideology, and show how Communists understood the concepts of nation, nationalism and nationalities. I can then consider why Communists needed such definitions to enable them to establish their respective regimes, and to claim their legitimacy.

I will begin by comparing the various ways that the two regimes structured their societies and the functions that operated within it. I will look at the concept of self-determination, and judge whether these regimes followed the various components of what constitutes a nation, and to reflect on whether these considerations were met. I avoid commenting on whether the demise of these two states in the 1980’s and 1990’s stemmed from these policies, as it would be unfair not to include the other numerous factors that were involved in these processes that this post will not cover. I will finish by evaluating whether communism did indeed ‘deal’ with nationalism.

In order to understand nationalism, one must first look at the related notion of the nation. Both the nation and nationalism are modern phenomena, which both ethno-symbolist and modernist scholars on nationalism agree on (Smith, Gellner, Hobsbawm). Anthony Smith (The Ethnic Origins of Nations, 1988) begrudgingly accepts that nations can be modern, however he believes that there were ethnies prior to modernity, which had 6 characteristics, and contributed to the formation of modern nations and established lines of continuity. However his overall view implies that ethnies are somewhat rigid and bounded in structure and have not merged or split over time, which ties in to Ernest Gellner’s criticism (Nations and Nationalism, 2006). In the reverse of Smith’s argument, Gellner acknowledges that groups and cultures have always existed, but that over time they have had either firm and/or fluid boundaries. Modern nations however grew out of the radically altered social conditions that existed in the latter 18^th and early 19^th centuries that homogenized certain elements of pre-existing high cultures, aided by education, leading to the only unit that humans could identify with. These nations were therefore inventions, or social constructs, in the era of modernity. Albeit two conflicting arguments, there is common ground in both. Therefore I will employ Smith’s definition of an ethnie (An ethnie needs a name, common myth of descent, a shared history, a distinct shared culture, an association with a territory and a sense of solidarity) as a basis for a ‘nation’, and relate to Gellner’s idea that modern nations were created only because a certain set of conditions were reached, when analyzing the two states that are the focus of this post.

To define nationalism, I return to Gellner whose view it is that ‘Nationalism is primarily a political principle, which holds that the political and national unit should be congruent.’ Smith also agrees with this aspirational tone as the aim of nationalism, and concedes that today’s nation-states rarely have congruent lines. Eric Hobsbawm (Nations and nationalism since 1780: Programme, myth, reality. 1991) also agrees with Gellner on his interpretation of nationalism, and adds that this principle is the bond between the people and the polity, and overrides all other obligations. I will return to this theme of legitimacy later on. But both agree that nationalism came before the nation, or as Hobsbawm puts it ‘Nations do not make states and nationalisms but the other way around.’ It is this view that I align myself with, and hope to highlight during this post, in that states used nationalism as a vehicle for political legitimacy, and created nations. However, the boundaries of such terms as the ‘nation’ or ‘state’ will be picked up later.

Finally nationality, or national identity, can be described as identification with the nation-state or nation.  This can be how individuals describe themselves, or have it bestowed on to them as an individual. The different applications of this term will be evident in the rest of this post.

Having now defined the terms that I will use in this essay, I can now look to how communism viewed nationalism. Given that all attempts at creating Communist states have all tried to apply the theories of Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, I will look to the Communist Manifesto for reference. In the founding document of communism, it states:

            ‘The working men have no country. We cannot take from them what they have not got. Since the proletariat must first of all acquire political supremacy, must rise to be the leading class of the nation, must constitute itself as the nation, it is, so far, itself national, though not in the bourgeois sense of the word.’ (The Communist Manifesto 1848)

In essence, although the prime aim of communism was the abolition of countries, Mark and Engels believed that the working class must achieve political power within countries, thus to constitute the ‘nation’ itself. They go on to argue that although capitalism is already dissolving national differences, communism would achieve it faster. Imperialism of one nation over another would disappear, as exploitation of one man over another does.

The fundamental difference here is that communism sees nations only as vehicles on the route to communism, because embodied in the state is political power to achieve its ends; and ultimately it is internationalist as there would be no class differences or antagonisms. Nationalism on the contrary defines itself within borders, sets out to create differences from other groups so that it can ultimately wield political power over a nation within a state – thus create a nation-state. But my main focus is not on the ends but the means to reaching communism. The use of the nation and boundaries, for the proletariat to ascend to power, features heavily in the practice of communism.

One of the leading figures on nationalism in the USSR was Joseph Stalin, who in the early years of the Soviet Union was the Commissar for the Nationalities. In 1913 he developed his own definition of the nation. He explained that a ‘nation is a historically evolved, stable community of language, territory, economic life, and psychological make-up manifested in a community of culture.’ (Marxism and the National and Colonial Question, 1935). His argument reflected the later views of Gellner when he wrote that nations belong ‘to a definite epoch, the epoch of rising capitalism.’ Thus Stalin laid the foundations for two similar future scholars. He preceeded Smith by defining characteristics of a nation, though not correlating exactly with the categorizations he used, but also accepted that the nation only arose out of industrialization.  

As for Yugoslavia, Josip Tito in 1941 co-wrote a resolution of the fifth conference of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia, (The Party of the Revolution, 1980) which contained a section on ‘the struggle of national equality and freedom’. Instead of theoretical points he makes practical ones, focusing on the need for self-determination for the Macedonians, Albanians and other minorities from enemies both outside and inside Yugoslavia. Stalin also wrote on this point of self-determination, by allowing a nation to determine its own future. This can be seen in the state systems in the former USSR and former Yugoslavia.

The USSR was the first Communist country in the world therefore it did not have a country to look to for establishing its system, but it did have a legacy to deal with from the Russian Empire. Self-determination was the key to ensuring that the former empire, and all its nations, stayed within the new Soviet Union. Albeit it in opposition to the internationalist stance of communism, this approach was seen as necessary for it would promote further revolution. Walker Connor (The National Question in Marxist-Leninist Theory and Strategy, 1984) takes a less theoretical and a more political stance on the context within which this policy developed. He believes that this policy was necessary because of several factors, mostly relating to internal political consolidation, and to ward off external threats. However, Connor points out that a change of heart soon came about and that socialism, or the unification of the working class, was re-established as the ultimate goal, so a proviso was added to statements regarding secession. However, the ‘working men of the world now had a country’.

Socialist Yugoslavia, on the other hand, formed after World War Two, when it had the experience of being united under a monarch, even if dismembered by the Axis powers. Prior to the war, the political discourse revolved around the structure of the state, and the balance of power between a strong centralized centre, and a loose confederal system, typified by the Serbs arguing for the former, and the Croats the latter. This power issue was linked to the desire for political control over territorial boundaries that existed within the state. It also had the legacy of being split by two former dominant empires, the Habsburg and Ottoman, along with all their cultural, social, political and economic baggage. The paradox here though was that at the time, the notion of one Yugoslav nation was preeminent. The idea of self-determination was a recruiting tool Tito used for his Partisan forces, attracting, notably, the Serbs domiciled within the Croatian republic borders, but also those residing in Bosnia-Herzegovina. The use of ‘Yugoslav’ as a tool for mobilization, however, was omitted, and the national name of the audience being addressed was used.

From the start of Tito’s rule then, we can see that there were many obstacles to overcome when navigating the troubled waters of nationality and the nations. Tito opted for a federal state structure with which to deliver his socialist utopia. Silvo Devetak (The Equality of Nations and Nationalities in Yugoslavia, 1988) details five spheres of social relations that were regulated in Yugoslavia between the nations and nationalities. The legal, constitutional and institutional apparatus was the first of these. It followed strict rules in ensuring that the nations and nationalities were represented fairly and equally. They were allowed to express their cultural and linguistic differences, but also to interact with the state in their own tongue. Socio-economic considerations were met with targeted funds to those areas deemed ‘backwards’, for fear of dissent from the local nation that may raise national sentiments. The educational system was used to foster friendship and mutual understanding, but this was applied, and could only be effective, in the more diverse areas. Socio-political organizations were set up to get gather different groups together, and tried to be as broad as possible, such as the Socialist Youth League. Finally, the penal system outlawed the practice of national inequality and hatred. It was the exercise of the last point that was visible when Tito purged the Croatian party in the 1970’s.

Parallel to this was the structural issue of territorial boundaries. The ambiguity in the constitution arose around who had the right to self-determination. If one decided that the republics were the boundaries, then it would justify a claim by a nation to a ‘state’. However, if you invested in the nation the power for self-determination, then the lines are less clear. Therefore the system that operated in Yugoslavia institutionalized the differences between the nations, but also tried to blur the boundaries between the nation and republic. Through the use of nationalities within the republics and the guarantee of equality, they aimed to eliminate the desire for nations to seek assurances from a ‘mother’ nation, or in Bosnia-Herzegovina’s case, to be split by there being no majority nation.

In the USSR, although workingmen now had a country, to govern it, the Communists had to wear some of the nationalist’s clothes. Self-determination was still the language of the Communists, but the application of it was somewhat different and varied. Martin McCauley (The Soviet Union 1917-1991, 1993) points to the strategy of korenizatsiya that allowed for the establishment of local institutions to be run by indigenous people. This would give the air of legitimacy to the regime, so that it wouldn’t be seen to be imperialist; yet carry out the diktats of the Party arriving from Moscow. A federal system of national and regional autonomous areas was therefore established. The original intent of Lenin and Stalin was that nations could determine their own future, on the assumption that if they chose to leave, then their bourgeois revolution would then lead to a socialist one and a return to the Soviet fold.

However, as McCauley points out, there were many obstacles here too. Firstly, there was only a limited proletariat in the Soviet Union, and it was its geographical fringes that lacked the education and skills to develop one. This led to increased Russian labour migration to these areas assigned for industrialization. An example of the rise in nationalism came via collectivization when the Ukrainians opposed this move in the 1930s. Secondly, the Communist Party itself was significantly made up of Russian members. A drive was initiated to increase non-Russian numbers, but subsequent purges led to their numbers dropping again. Thirdly, the use of local languages was enshrined in law, however there were disparities between those local speakers of languages, and those elites who were readers and writers of those indigenous or other languages. However, the Communist Party had its impact on this too, and in certain areas one language was favoured more than others, or the authorities would change between Latin, Cyrillic or Arabic scripts, dependent on its objectives in that nation; an example being the imposition of the Cyrillic alphabet onto an original Latin text Moldavian language. Thus ‘Great Russian chauvinism’ quietly crept back into fashion, and at the same time standardized ‘national’ languages were codified.

These points by McCauley illustrate that ‘Leninist nationality policy deliberately promoted the formation of nations and the development of national languages and cultures. It was believed that these new nations would be socialist-orientated and would therefore support the building of socialism in the Soviet Union.’ Therefore Stalin’s characteristics of the nation, reflective of Smith’s, were used to bestow onto people a national identity and with that, a polity of Communists to govern the newly demarcated autonomous republics. These boundaries were sometimes arbitrary and some often created for political reasons, but given legitimacy because of state backing.

To conclude, the Communist states had a theoretical base upon which to assume that with the transition to socialism, nationalism would cease to exist. However, as realities hit those Communist leaders in the first decades when establishing their power, they had to go some way towards the goal of nationalism by providing for territorial borders for nations, and also creating new nations within borders they established. Smith’s ethnie is evident here in that Communist states couldn’t start from a blank page, but had recent historical/cultural baggage to deal with, so even the creation of a new ‘Soviet’ or ‘Yugoslav’ identity was a big task. Gellner’s view of nations being created in the context of certain circumstances is reflected by the fact that Communists sought to speed up industrialization and thus negatively gave a hand to developing nationalism.

Self-determination is a key idea that the two states shared. Through their employment of it they ensured that local leaders were loyal to the Party as opposed to their nation, allowing for the effective governing of those states. In Yugoslavia this was ambiguous as there were boundaries of the nation and similarly boundaries to the republics, and nationality was often fluid. In the USSR, boundaries were fixed and often drawn up to ensure it contained sizeable non-national groups, and nationality was determined at birth. Both of these methods sought to establish political control, as reflected on by Hobsbawm previously, and therefore needed nations and nationalities to rationally organize their societies; but in doing so they became exposed to nationalism. In short, communism couldn’t ‘deal’ with nationalism but instead it had to embrace it.