Thoughts on Ger Duijzings’ Religion and the Politics of Identity in Kosovo

Although Kosovo is its locus, this book observes the developments of several ethno-religious groups in the region on a wider scale, with focus on different aspects of identity. Duijzings brushes off the carte blanche descriptions and nationalist narratives of the two dominant ethnic groups/nationalities, the Serbs and Albanians, to demonstrate a deeper and wider plethora of people's with a distinct yet shared history and territory in the late 1990’s. How identities play out, are flexible (then rigid), and the complexities of these on social/political and economic relations are what is threaded throughout his work. One example is Letnica and its Catholic minority, about how they lived there, looking at the overarching battles that narrowed to two national narratives that they could not identify with, and their moving to Croatia proper. The next is the example of the diffuse Muslim identity, initially viewed as a unified whole across Yugoslavia, with its splits between official and Sunni, beside unorthodox dervish practices and Shi'a tendencies. Whilst he delivers ethnographic accounts, he also provides historical overviews of how these identities, national and religious, formed; and explains how objective and subjective relations meant that some peoples were included and excluded in these group/social events and practices. Fundamentally he portrays an image of religions that co-existed, tolerated each other, and shared each other’s holy sites; yet witnessing a descent into isolation and confrontation. The concept of syncretism is applied to highlight how religious practices on the ground weren’t those imposed via orthodoxy nor a pure form dictated from above, especially when new religions came to the fore and needed accommodating. This mirror’s Tone Bringa’s work in ‘Being Muslim the Bosnian Way’, which looked at village life in a Croat/Muslim mixed village on the eve of the collapse of Socialist Yugoslavia.

One specific and novel group he (re)’discovered’ were the 'Egyptians', who were presumed to be a new phenomenon, although lots of ethnographic and linguistic work has been written on this group. Debates around their 'origin' play to perennial views on nations and national identity, but Duijzings critiques these and suggests that, even if one took the term Gypsy as the core of their identity, the current identity was pulled together from diverse historical fragments and forged into a generic 'outsider' label. But this also aligns with the 'nestling orientalism' thesis, whereby this group wants to disassociate themselves with those identities that others seek to place them with. So the Egyptians use classifications to say why they are not like Gypsies, socio-economically or culturally. And so this argument builds by looking at the process of Albanianisation of Muslim Gypsies, to show how one group of people (Serb and Macedonian authorities) claim they wished to assimilate and wanted no conflict, and those groups themselves who had no vehicle for official recognition up to the 1990s. In detailing this recognition vis-a-vis the census, he describes the group’s mimicry which led to them being unaccounted for. This ties in with themes in my previous book review, that of Christian Promitzer et al, of groups hiding or being hidden.

In tandem with this he looks at the timing 'of emergence', or more precisely, who were the political rulers at any particular time. He errs close to portraying a clientistic relationship, where state jobs are sought and thus identity alters or (re) appears to curry favour. But he fundamentally dilutes the 'invention of Egyptians' argument because identity traits must have resided locally anyway. It was timing and changes to the political discourse that allowed a space for these to come together on a wider, national space.

Yet by 1990, ethnic unmixing had already reached its goal, with communities having as little contact between them as possible. All have suffered, not just one side or another. It wasn’t ‘ethnic problems’ as such, but problems ethnicized by politicians and populations at ease to point the finger, and so one needs to see the problems from a politico-socio-economic perspective not an ethnic-national one. To resolve this, he declared that democracy and an opposition were needed in Serbia.

Although this prescription was a viable one when the book was being written, in the immediate years after publication the world witnessed the fall of Milosevic, and Kosovo was already being run as a UN protectorate. So events altered to hamper this path to de-escalation of the ethnic unmixing. Instead, secession and ultimately independence, seen as the answer, created new problems. As is the nature of nationalism, when a political boundary is newly defined, nations not happy with the delineation argue for a revision or for secession themselves. Hence the Serbs of the northern enclave of Mitrovica demanded their ‘right’ to leave Kosovo. And so the spiral continues. Thus the artificial maintenance of groups seen as ‘units’ continues, whether that’s on the ground as tangible relations (or lack thereof) between people, or merely from a theoretical point of view. And the myths used as a tool for unmixing leading to the solidification of these groups as units, seen by Duijzings as having a lifespan, continue to have a powerful negative impact, despite democratization in Serbia and independence of Kosovo.

So the return to a Venn diagram of ‘groupness’, as ethnographically accounted for by the author, is still a far way off. Yet, this does not underline and prove the nationalist argument that violence is the result of these differences in cultural traits. It is the conclusion reached from that very Western, enlighlightened, and rational notion of the nation-state.

What Duijzing’s provides us with is a deconstruction of the usual debate around identity in Kosovo. By ethnographically portraying the people within the area, he knocks down the binary of two, fixed identities of Serbs and Kosovans, as so typically seen by people in the West, and develops an overview of a diverse people whose path to unmixing stemmed from political and socio-economic factors ethnicised by political leaders. One could claim, however, that by unveiling ‘new’ identities in the region he is simply following the nationalist argument and identifying these groups as units. But I would agree with his assertion that there aren’t groups, but groupness. And what he portrays is a centre/periphery description of how one subjectively accounts for one’s own identity, and that the concentric circles of identity classifications that flow from the centre multifariously link up with identities’ of the ‘other’. So although the centres may not match, the lesser priority identity classifications may do so and create that common bond. The sharing of religious sites is a prime example of how this was done in Kosovo.

Thoughts on Christian Promitzer et al's (Hidden) Minorities

Deriving its contents from papers and discussions presented at a workshop on the Alpine-Adriatic region in 2002, this book looks at language and ethnic minorities in the region that do not necessarily 'fit' into the usual narratives on nationalism. The analyses turn away from the assumption that these groups are rigid, homogenised, and eternal, and thus as unusual examples of nation building 'gone wrong', but delivers an alternative narrative by ethnographically portraying the development of these groups under the forces of nationalism, globalisation, modernisation, and viewing them through the prism of minority rights legislation in the region. Using the urban/rural dichotomy, public/private use of language, economic liberation etc, the book attempts to account for how these groups have evaded being 'recognised' by hiding or being hidden vis-a-vis the state or other recognised minorities, and failing to succumb to objective definitions of how their ethnic or linguistic kin ought to be constituted.

The theoretical framework that underpins the book emanates from older debates around ethnicity and nations, recalling the likes of Anthony Smith and his primordial/perennial case, listing categories that make up the ethnie; or Ernest Gellner's retort that nations are the result of modernity. The latter point is what the authors agree on, and thus they coalesce around Rogers Brubaker who writes that ethnicity and nationality 'are not things in the world, but perspectives on the world'. Hence, in terms of identity, they observe the relationship between subjective factors accounting for ones own identification to the community, in the 'self/other' guise, and the objective classifications of what one's identity is by external groups or institutions. Yet all the while, their observations reel back to how hidden minorities place their identity within the locality.

Sited in the region as it is, one of the points of departure are the placing of political borders. This involves analysis of groups that straddle or are contained within new state boundaries, and how this has impacted on the objective and subjective categories that define those linguistic or ethnic groups. An example would be in Duska Knezevic-Hocevar's chapter on the Kolpa River acting as a new political boundary encompassing the residents of the Kolpa Valley. Here, linguistic analysis of the past century lent itself to nationalist interpretation, not because it revolved around two written standards of Slovene and Croat, as this was a modern phenomenon, but those linguists wanted to portray the independent developments of the two languages that became the common local tongue. They explained the dialects away as sub standard local dialects of the two higher standards in an attempt to make the two languages ahistorical and thus 'natural' for them to be separated. This jarred with how the locals saw it because, for them, the locally spoken language was the same either side of the river. Alongside this analysis, Knezevic-Hocevar described the dynamics of national identity, and the paradox of locals not necessarily feeling strong national identities (as they had mixed families) yet using the language of national stereotypes in their day to day conversations.  

This placing of a border brought with it the assumption that the people on the ground on either side would automatically affiliate with their newly designated co-nationals. Yet this was not the case. And this moves on to another theme in the book revolving around the relation between a group being hidden or hiding and the application of minority rights legislation within the state they reside. Many factors are involved in this debate; the size of the group, does it have 'supposed' co-nationals in another state, does it have supposed 'co-nationals in the state they reside in and how do they relate to them vis-a-vis state legislation on minority rights, do they want to hide or would they prefer to carry ethnic/lingustic traits in private, the timing of when borders were put up, are they from the countryside or town, or have they migrated far as a group either recently or in the distant past. All these factors, and more, create dynamic situations that each group contends with in its relation with the state. One particular example is Klaus-Jurgen Hermanik's study of the Slovenes of Styria, which analyses the identity constructions that have occurred in the area over the last two centuries. What this chapter highlights is the difference between 'hiding' one's ethnic/linguistic traits, however one would classify them, and being 'hidden' from the view of the state and/or other ethnic/linguistic minorities. Overarching this, is how political borders have changed, how laws within the these altered states changed, but crucially, how the relations between the group and these institutions played out as part of borderland dynamics. In the Slovene's case, Germanisation, economic marginalisation, and political oppression led to the group 'hiding' themselves. Yet they were 'hidden', because some still had private use of Slovenian, but wouldn't think of using it in public. Thus, a signifier that would usually be viewed as an ethnic/linguistic unifier of minority groups, was weak and so did not lead to the group being conscious of their own collectivity, and so were not 'seen' in the eyes of the state.

What this book does best is to inform the reader of other perspectives on how ethnic and linguistic groups are formed in the Alpine-Adriatic region. The writers don't presume, from the outset, that these groups are ahistorical and perennial entities, but neither do they treat the information gathered from informants during ethnographic research with disrespect and scepticism. What they do, is develop theories on how identities are formed and explain how groups perceive themselves and their views on how the world views them. Parallel to this, they try and put it into historical contexts regarding state collapse and (re)formation, where borders fall, and globalisation. As stated before, identities aren't just the sum of a checklist of classificatory 'things' in the world that form a perfectly defined group. Instead, identities are fluid and continually changing phenomenon whose edges are blurry, and have to content with subjective and objective perceptions of what 'we' and 'they' are. This book ought to frustrate nationalists who believe that groups can be rigidly defined and exclusive, as this text shows that even in the era of the 'nation-state', some areas in the world fail to conform to the nationalist dream.

My Images of SEE – 18:10, Monday 22nd August

I walked to the market and bought a couple of magnets, 4 postcards and a key ring. I then went to the museum near the Latin bridge about the assassination of Franz Ferdinand. It was simply a large room, but covered the Austro-Hungarian occupation and then the incident itself. They actually had Gavrilo Princip’s clothes and gun used on the day. Very intriguing. I then walked alongside the river out of the old town, west. Again the sun was piercing.

I reached the Parliament building that was opposite the shopping mall I went to two days ago. I took a photo and continued to the museum. The first one I went to was closed today; So I continued to the next one. It was housed in a Soviet-esque building, with weeds growing in the cracks in the tiles and being shrouded in bushes and trees. I went in, paid, and bought a programme.

In the main atrium there was a board, 20 ft long that was a wall that Sarajevans were asked to put up info on loved ones last year. It was housed here now. There were news clippings, photo’s of loved ones murdered, photo’s of people houses – then and now. But two things specifically stuck out. One was a blue and white-stripped jumper. It had a dark stain on it. Below was a photo of a 7 year old boy, who was wearing the said jumper Luckily for me, the viewer, the photo was of a happy occasion. But it got to me, emotionally, that the boy was no more – and would have been a young adult now. The second was a series of photo’s. 4 A4 sheets, 2 photo’s on each. On it was written the town of Visegrad. It showed men cowering, near red plastic chairs in what must have been a former canteen, and in the process of being bludgeoned to death. From cowering, to blood soaked, to laying there motionless. I felt sick.

I went upstairs to a room split between 2 exhibitions. I continued with the siege first of all. There was the story of the siege, in government documents, photo’s, newspaper articles – and a range of exhibits such as uniforms, weapons, make shift cookers, food examples, and evidence of continued culture and arts. It was very emotional. I left a comment in the guestbook.  I then went around ‘the history of 1,000 years of Bosnia’ exhibit, that was more a written experience, but had a couple of exhibits. Back downstairs in a side room was a small explanation of the first written acknowledgment of the Banate of Bosnia. In another, there were several before and after shots around Sarajevo. I then left and went to the mall. I ate at Viapiano again. I wrote my final postcard to Kirsty and Sean then.

I walked back to the old town, with resources for the train ride from the mall. I found a post office near the Bezistan, and sent it off. Around the corner I saw a pub the other day, “Cheers”, so I popped in for a drink and read. After an hour I left for the hotel again.

My Images of SEE – 10:19, Monday 22nd August

Again, once it became dusk, I ventured out. I wanted to look for a proper restaurant i.e. one I could eat and drink at. It seems that you can only do one of the other here. So I wondered around the old town, walking past a lot of food places. I then walked to the more Habsburg part of town, then back into the old town. I picked a place called Hacienda. It was quiet, and I was the only person inside what seemed to be a mini nightclub. So I had cocktails and fajitas. To finish I had chocolate pancakes. It came to 35km, the most I had spent so far. By the time I left, the old town was quiet – as some shops hadn’t been open all day, so those closing now added to the quietness. I saw a bookshop with English titles on display. I then left and returned to the hotel.

It was a hot night, so slept uncomfortably. At 09:20 though I went down for breakfast and opted for cheese rather than Nutella for a change. I talked to the receptionist, thanking her for the tip regarding the view. I asked her where the Parliament building was, and she said it was by the museums & Holiday Inn – where I planned to go later. I then got changed to leave.

My Images of SEE – 15:19, Sunday 21st August

I asked the receptionist where the best place was to walk to, to get a view of the city. She said that a 20 minute walk up the hill near the hotel would get me that. So I walked to a corner shop for refreshments. I then walked north up a quiet road, past a Muslim cemetery. A lot of the dates of death ended between 1992 and 1995. I continued in the blazing heat up the very steep hill. I was wet with sweat by now. At the top of the hill, I took a sharp right where the road flattened. I walked 200 yards to the edge, near a tower’s base and saw the city. The hills of the long valley were steep and green: peppered with terracotta-roofed houses, becoming less in density as they went higher. The valley stretched out for a good few kilometers, until Soviet style blocks guarded the entrance to a wide plain (although still in a valley) where the airport is located. I then walked back down to the old town, the other side of the cemetery.

I walked around the old town, through it towards the river. I wandered along the river to the Latin bridge, and gazed upon the plaque that notified me of the site on which Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sofia were shot by Gavrilo Princip. I then walked into town, towards the Austro-Hungarian built area, then stopped at a café for lunch. It was just outside a mosque and, for 5 minutes during my stay there, a call to prayer sounded out. After an hour I left and walked through the old town looking for gifts, but gave up after a while and retreated back to the hotel.

My Images of SEE – 11:43, Sunday 21st August

After my rest, and once the flare had gone off to indicate the end of fasting, I went out. I intended to have a drink first, and located “City Pub” on the map. I walked down, through the busy old town, past the Bezistan and on to an adjacent street. In front of a posh hotel was City Pub. Quiet outside, I decided to venture in. Unsure whether to treat it like a normal pub, I sat down and decided I wanted a beer. But no-one came. So I walked halfway to the bar, when a guy came over and took my order. I had a nice pint of Sarajevsko Pivo (local lager) and watched football. Upon finishing, I ordered another. At this point a large crowd came in. A planned beer tour I presumed. I though I heard Engligh spoken by a couple of girls, I frequently looked over to read their lips, as the music was loud. I got my book out so as to indicate I was English.

I then moved on to my third pint and no contact was made, so I went over and asked if they were British. They said no. However, they were Australian and New Zealanders. So they said to join them. For an hour and a half I joined in their conversations. They were on a bus tour. So I had gossip from the bus, a history of where they were from and what they do, and I talked about my travels. By about 22:45 they were making plans to head off, so I paid my bill and left. It was great to talk to English speakers. They also have been living in London the last 6 years.

A lot of food placed were closed now, but I managed to get to one place. I asked for a menu, but the guy simply said “Meat or cheese”. I said meat. He brought over what was essentially 3 12 inch sausage rolls. And good they were too. I left and got the obligatory ice cream on the way back to the hotel.

I slept, a little disturbed by the 4 pints I consumed, until 09:25. I sprung up to get breakfast. Feeling tender, I decided to have it inside as the sun was out on form. I read the news on my phone too. I returned to my room and relaxed for an hour before getting ready to go out.

My Images of SEE – 18:14, Saturday 20th August

I had a fulfilling nights sleep last night, and woke up when my body needed to and not my alarm clock. I slowly got out of bed, then made my way downstairs to breakfast. I collected cereal and made my way outside to the terrace to get a seat. The sun was out but it was not hot yet. I went back in to get a roll and Nutella, along with my coffee. I sat out, eating away, admiring the view of the mosques, terracotta topped houses, and the green hills crowding over the city.

I went back to my room and washed and changed. I then ventured out into the old town. With it being Saturday, it was as busy as last night. From the hotel, you walk down a hill to where the spring is. Then the market area is on a lower incline. Its floor is made of flat orangy/brown rocks interlaced with cement. The shop fronts are showing off their wares and are constructs of wood and stone. 

I walked around the maze of shops to find an ATM – for I need to pay the hotel. Then located a small museum, which I find out is the Museum of Sarajevo – right in the heart of the Bascarsija. It is a rectangular building (surrounded by the market) and is domed. Inside, I paid 2km and spent about 40 minutes in there. Not much in terms of artifacts, but a lot on the story of prehistoric Sarajevo, through Medieval, Ottoman, Austro-Hungarian and up to present times. In the centre of the room was a model reconstruction of the old town of the 1800s.

I exited, the walked through the Bezistan. Similar materials to that of the museum (Grey stone with a tinge of yellow, layered between cement) had a front and back entrance, and an alleyway you walked through that had small stalls either side. A pleasant building but the wares were not to match. 

I then made my way to the hotel briefly to pay my bill and have my passport returned. I then walked down the road I came up yesterday. I walked past the old mortared market again, now bustling with life, onward to the new shopping mall. 

I had a wonder around to pass time. I then continued, where opposite the road I saw red marks on the floor. I read last night that these splashes of red plastic actually fill in the holes where mortars struck. I took a photo for the record, but an eerie spot it was. I then walked past an alley where the wall of the building was sprayed with bullet holes. Again, no effort to cover up the suffering that was endured.

I then spotted a café, so took the opportunity to rest from the powerful gaze of the sun. I read and took in the chatter of the locals around me. I then walked onward to another shopping mall and ate there. I had a glass of Bosnian red too, which went down a treat. Smoking is tolerated indoors – reminded me of a few years back, out in the UK.

I then walked past the Holiday Inn again to the train station. It was as quiet as it was yesterday. I asked a guy there is I needed to book the train to Zagreb – no, he replied. Excellent. I then turned back. I now located where museums were for Monday (as tomorrow I plan to walk and shop), so now started the second half of a figure of 8 by taking an adjacent road back to the old town. A bit quieter, but still feeling safe, I made my way back to Ali Pasha’s Mosque – where prayer sounds were emanating from. I then took the right fork on Marsala Tita Street into the old town. I stopped at a café for an espresso and a slice of Tiramisu. Lovely. And only 3km! I then meandered around the old town again and back to the hotel to rest as the afternoon call to prayer began.