Authors: Hüseyin Dogru and Ana Milosavljević This investigative piece by Ana Milosavljevic, originally published on red.media in July 2024, reveals how the US deliberately enabled the Srebrenica genocide to justify military intervention—a blueprint the West continues using to profit from atrocities today. Every year on July 11, Western ambassadors and dignitaries alike flock to the Potočari memorial center in eastern Bosnia to commemorate the Srebrenica genocide of 1995. 31 years ago, Bosnian Serb paramilitaries murdered more than 8,000 Bosniak men and boys en masse over the course of eight to ten days. In May 2024, the United Nations declared a day of remembrance for the victims of the Srebrenica genocide. But this year, more than any, the emptiness of the West’s “condemnation” of the Bosnian genocide was on full display, given its current support of Israel’s genocide of Palestinians in Gaza. However, the West’s hypocrisy regarding the Srebrenica genocide is much deeper than meets the eye. In fact, it was the US, Britain, and France that handed over the Srebrenica “safe zone” to its Bosnian Serb butchers in order to justify further intervention in the Balkan region. White gravestones at Srebrenica Memorial Cemetery, symbolizing remembrance and history. Photo by: Fatih Kopcal In 2005, the American diplomat Richard Holbrooke, who brokered the Dayton Accords to officially end the war, told Bosnian Hayat TV: “I was under initial instructions to sacrifice Srebrenica, Goražde and Žepa.” And that’s exactly what he did. Over the course of the three-year-long war, Bosniaks were ethnically cleansed from their villages by predominantly Serb paramilitaries but also Croat ones, to a lesser extent. Serbian President Milošević and Croatian President Tudjman had met before the war to devise a plan to partition the country for themselves. Bosniak refugees were funneled into what were assured to be the so-called “safe zones” of Srebrenica, Goražde, and Žepa. Once they arrived, they were disarmed completely and left with a meager Dutch peacekeeping force that was recently found guilty of willingly handing over many Bosniaks to their death. The US itself had intelligence and satellite imagery monitoring not only Serb troop movements in the lead-up to July 11 but throughout the duration of the massacre itself. Satellite imagery showed the bodies piling up in the killing fields, but no one did anything. But this year, more than any, the emptiness of the West’s “condemnation” of the Bosnian genocide was on full display, given its current support of Israel’s genocide of Palestinians in Gaza. In the wake of the massacre, the US garnered international support for its campaign to bomb Serb positions in Bosnia and lead the post-war process. This was the first time the so-called “defensive” North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) launched an aggressive military campaign. As part of the so-called peace process, the Dayton Accords partitioned the country according to ethnicity: the Serb autonomous Republika Srpska and the Bosniak and Croat majority Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Within that agreement, NATO troops were to be deployed to Bosnia, the first ever troop deployment outside of NATO member states. What was previously a nominally socialist, multi-ethnic country has since turned into a cesspool of neoliberalism, including austerity cuts, privatization of state-owned assets, environmental degradation, and misery for the masses of people. Now, Bosnia and all Balkan countries are encircled by the vultures of the world, including the US, China, and Russia, who are happy to profit from the bloodshed. That’s not to say that the Bosnian war was solely a Western creation, far from it. Yugoslavia’s internal divisions and inequality between nations laid the groundwork for armed conflict that was fostered, promoted, and waged by the ruling elite from the wealthiest republics. Yugoslavia’s History of Unity and Divisions In the decades since the wars related to the break-up of Yugoslavia ended, many have asked, perplexed: how could a country where various nations lived in relative peace end in such bloodshed—a country that was formed in the wake of and due to multi-national resistance to the Nazi occupation during World War II? The answer lies at the crossroads of economics and history. As Serbian forces took Srebrenica, the war criminal Ratko Mladić told cameras that “the time has come to take revenge on the Turks in this region.” The Turks he was supposedly referring to were Bosniaks, who he was intent on exterminating from the area to support Serbia’s territorial claims in Bosnia. During the 500+ year-long rule of the Ottoman Empire in the Balkans, both voluntary and involuntary conversion of the native populations to Islam was facilitated, including Christians, Catholics, and the Bogomils. Due to this history, Serbs and Croats both claim Bosniaks as belonging to their respective nation. Along this line of reasoning, many insist that Bosniaks simply do not exist as a separate nation. However, this logic ignores the historical development of nations and how they evolved over the transitory period between feudalism and capitalism. It is true that during Ottoman rule, Muslims enjoyed greater privileges than non-Muslims. Bosniak landowners were part and parcel of the Ottoman’s crushing rule in Bosnia, which oppressed not only poor Serb and Croat peasants but also Bosniaks. Multiple times, peasants of all these backgrounds rebelled against the empire of the day. From 1831 until 1875, poor peasants of all religions and backgrounds launched five different armed uprisings against the Ottoman Empire. With each rebellion, Bosniaks separated their national identity more and more from the ruling Turkish elite. In 1882, Serbs and Bosniaks also rebelled against the Habsburg military recruitment law, which would have conscripted young men. While Bosniak landowners were generally loyal to the Ottomans, peasants of all stripes had more in common with one another than the landowners. During the Habsburg rule in Bosnia, Bosniak landowners lost the political and economic power they had during the Ottoman Empire. Catholic and Orthodox landowners were seen as more reliable bulwarks against the Ottomans; thus, the feudal power dynamic was flipped on its head. The development of the Serbian nation was nurtured by the Russian Tsar, using Pan-Slavism as a smokescreen to extend its own influence in the region while the Catholic Habsburg empire coopted the Croatian national movement in an effort to defeat Hungarian pro-independence forces. In doing so, these powers helped develop the capitalist classes of both the Serbian and Croatian nations which both sought to convert and claim Bosniaks as their own. The oppression of Bosniaks further solidified under the First Yugoslavia from 1918 until 1941. At the beginning of the Yugoslavia monarchy, 2,000 Bosniaks were killed by Serb and Croatian paramilitaries in just two years. In 1919, land reforms nationalized eight million acres of Bosniak land, leaving 10% of Bosniak peasants without any means of production. Capitalist Yugoslavia with Socialist Trimmings Nazi Germany took advantage of this division in 1943 and promised Bosniaks a Muslim state if they cooperated. As such, a battalion of 21,000 Bosniak soldiers was formed to fortify the German occupation. The battalion was commanded by the SS officer, Himmler. Despite German support, the Bosniaks were still under attack from the other fascist forces of the region, including Serbian Chetniks and Croatian Ustasha. This caused many Bosniaks to join the multi-national Partisans led by the Communist Party of Yugoslavia. Under the motto of “Brotherhood and Unity,” Yugoslavia made some surface-level efforts to address the national oppression of Bosniaks. In 1963, the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia recognized a “Muslim nation” (referring to Bosniaks) as a constituent nation. Secularism was widely promoted; however, there was not a concerted campaign to break down reactionary ideologies that claimed Bosniaks as “merely” Islamized Serbs or Croats. In particular, chauvinism reigned supreme and reinforced economic inequalities between the wealthier nations (Serbs, Croats, and Slovenians) as compared with the poorer ones, including the Muslim Bosniak and Kosovar-Albanian populations. During the lifespan of Yugoslavia, there was an economic inequality between republics and nations that ultimately helped bring about the country’s demise. From 1953 to 1989, Bosnia’s gross domestic product (GDP) per capita decreased by 20 percent while GDP either remained the same or grew in the three wealthiest republics: Serbia, Slovenia, and Croatia. Statistical Yearbook, Belgrade, 1991. Institute of Economics – Zagreb, Center for Economic Informatics and Statistics. The impoverishment of oppressed nationalities like Bosniaks was further facilitated through the divisions in production. Raw materials were largely extracted from poorer republics and transported to wealthier ones to be refined. While many on the left still laud “Tito’s socialism,” a few additional facts illuminate the fact that Yugoslavia was simply a state-capitalist society with more social welfare programs. Over the lifetime of Yugoslavia, wage inequality increased instead of decreased; early on, wages between managers and workers were 1:3.5. By 1967, the ratio was 1:20. This was facilitated by so-called workers self-management councils, which bestowed managers, engineers, and white-collar workers with more power than the workers performing manual labor. As such, the Yugoslav “socialist” system, in effect, reproduced capitalist relations. Between 1972 and 1982, Yugoslavia’s foreign debt increased ninefold from $2.4 billion to $20.3 billion. In the 1980s, the World Bank and International Monetary Fund (IMF) used this debt to propose structural adjustment loans meant to privatize as much of Yugoslavia’s economy as possible. The austerity program was initially struggled against by a movement that crossed ethnic lines but was ultimately exploited by the reactionary nationalist elite. Throughout the late eighties and early nineties, half a million people took part in labor strikes against wage freezes, layoffs, increases in food and fuel prices, and the decadence of the ruling class. Reports about a strike in Slovenia noted that in addition to the economic demands, “The workers also demanded that the government slash the number of factory administrators, limit the number of limousines used by factory executives, and restrict their business travel.” Due to the corruption of the self-management committees and the bankruptcy of the Communist Party, workers became disillusioned with the establishment leadership. And thus, an opportunity emerged for reactionary nationalist groups to pit various ethnic groups against each other instead of blaming the multi-national, capitalist elite. For example, the right-wing Croatian Democratic Union political party blamed Serbs for the strikes in Croatia. The local party chapter said of one CEO that “he and other Serbs were to blame for the bad condition the company is in.” The Serbian elite claimed the “Serbs wanted to work, while the Croats didn’t.” At a session of the workers’ council, a female worker ominously warned against the strategy of the ruling elite, asking, “Will we swallow the bait of such tricks and misguided information, used by the most lazy among us to create divisions, when all of us will be equally hungry tomorrow: Croats, Serbs and Muslims alike!” Foreign Involvement in Bosnia Such was the reactionary nationalism that ultimately led to the state-supported Serb forces pillaging, looting, and exterminating Bosniak villages in Bosnia. Such was the reactionary nationalism that led to the Croatian government forcibly displacing its Serbian population at gunpoint, leading to the ethnic cleansing of 200,000 Serbs from eastern Croatia. The main reason why the West did not support Serbia’s attempts to keep the union together at will was to expel Russian influence from the region. It would be easier for the US to counter Russian influence if it was sequestered to Serbia as opposed to spread across six republics. In addition to representing the Ottoman Empire, the Serbian and Croat ruling classes justified their territorial ambitions as fighting “radical Islam.” They characterize Bosniaks as Islamic fundamentalists who sought to implement sharia law and oppress non-Muslims in an Islamic state. Bosniaks are generally secular, but there were members of their own ruling elite who promoted such ideology. For example, Alia Izetbegović, who became a member of the Presidency of Bosnia, had in the 1970s written an Islamic Declaration with hopes for Bosnia’s future as an Islamic state, which stated, “There can be neither peace nor coexistence between the Islamic religion and non-Islamic social and political institutions.” During the war in Bosnia, Saudi Arabia and Iran both sent mujahideen to fight on behalf of Bosniaks. While Serb and Croat-led paramilitaries did most of the plunder of Bosnia, it is reported that these fighters and Bosniak war criminals participated in ethnically cleansing Serbs and Croats in central Bosnia as well. In addition, Saudi-funded Wahhabi groups have funded mosques throughout the country and recruited members of the poor working-class youth to advance Wahhabism. In short, as the US Army War College paper says: “Bosnian Serbs and Croats may exaggerate the threat of Islamism or potential Islamic dominance, but the Bosniak leadership certainly provides them with plenty of ammunition.” In addition to Saudi Arabian Wahhabi forces, Turkey uses its historical and religious ties with Bosniaks to disguise its own self-interest in the region. In the 1990s, Turkey became part of the UN wartime peacekeeping mission. After the end of the war, it joined the NATO occupation of the country and had the second-largest number of troops in Bosnia. Turkey’s economic ambitions in the country became clear in a speech by Turkish politician Davutoğlu in Sarajevo in 2009. At an event titled “Ottoman Heritage and Muslim Communities in the Balkans Today,” he proclaimed, “Now is the time for reunification” by “reestablishing ownership in the region, through reestablishing multicultural coexistence, and through establishing a new economic zone.” Since then, Turkey has steadily increased its influence in Bosnia via investments in telecommunication, energy, transportation, health, tourism, construction, and banking. Today, Bosniaks see Turkey as their most significant and reliable ally. The most surprising player during the Bosnian war, however, is Israel. During the wars of the 1990s, Israel exported arms to the Serbian army, which were almost certainly used in the Bosnian genocide. In 2016, Israel’s State Attorney deemed that disclosure of Israel’s role in the Bosnian genocide posed a threat to Israel’s national security and foreign relations: a de facto admission of guilt. The butcher of Srebrenica and Bosnia, Ratko Mladić, wrote in his journal, “From Israel – they proposed joint struggle against Islamist extremists. They offered to train our men in Greece and a free supply of sniper rifles.” More recently, Israel abstained from a United Nations vote designating July 11 as the International Day of Reflection and Commemoration of the 1995 Genocide in Srebrenica. Bosnian War Repercussions When all was said and done, more than 200,000 people were killed in Bosnia, the vast majority (160,000) Bosniaks, 30,000 Croats, and 25,000 Serbs. 20,000 Bosniak women and children were raped in concentration camps while villages were looted and plundered by Serb and Croat forces. Two million people, mostly Bosniaks, were driven from their ancestral homes, and the economic cost of the war is estimated to be approximately $80 billion. Today, Bosnia and Herzegovina (along with other Balkan countries) ranks amongst the highest in terms of poverty and emigration in Europe. While the war has ended, the ideas and tensions that gave rise to it live on. Most Serbs do not recognize the systematic killing in Srebrenica as a genocide, as they are convinced by their own ruling elite that admission of this massacre makes Serbs a “genocidal nation.” In this way, the ruling elites of the Balkan countries continue the tradition of masking class differences with reactionary nationalist fervor. They do this skillfully to avoid scrutiny of their own exploitation of the masses and to divert attention from their culpability in war crimes of the 1990s. Such is the case with Serbian President Aleksandar Vučić, who in the 1990s famously proclaimed, “For every Serb you kill, we will kill 100 Muslims.” In the West, US intervention in Bosnia is widely seen as a successful “humanitarian mission.” For those on the left, it can be regarded as an effective way to bring a disobedient country to its knees. As soon as the Soviet Union collapsed, the US used its position as the most powerful imperialist to allow for and then coopt the massacre of Bosniaks for its own geopolitical interests. The US was happy to carve up the region for itself. However, it cannot be seen as the sole reason for Yugoslavia’s demise. In order to divide and conquer, there must be divisions to exploit. Until the people of the Balkans come to terms with this, the US, Turkey, Russia, and now China will continue to steal the wealth of the masses of each and every country in the Balkans, paying no mind to their religion or ethnicity.This article written by Ana Milosavljevic was first published in July 22, 2024 on red.media. Article by Hüseyin Dogru was first published on his substrack.

The editorial team of Balkan Talks stands in full solidarity with our colleague and friend Jona Cenameri, who has become the target of a smear campaign by Serbian pro-government tabloids. We strongly condemn the actions of Informer and other regime-aligned media outlets that continue to target young people from Serbia and across the Western Balkans who are working to build peace, regional cooperation, and democratic societies. These campaigns do not simply attack individuals; they seek to intimidate an entire generation determined to imagine a different future for our region. Photo: Jona Cenameri, private archive Jona is a journalist at Faktoje.al, one of the leading fact-checking media organizations in Albania and the Western Balkans. Her commitment to evidence-based journalism, accountability, and public interest reporting is precisely what makes her a target for media that thrive on disinformation and political polarization. Over the past few days, Jona participated in the Youth Summit in Novi Pazar, organized by the Youth Initiative for Human Rights, together with students and young activists from across the region. Speaking to Balkan Talks, Jona questioned why media reports attacking the summit featured images of Albin Kurti when he had neither attended nor been mentioned during the event. Her remark illustrates how quickly facts can give way to manufactured narratives whenever independent voices challenge the stories that certain media seek to promote. Unfortunately, this kind of targeting has become increasingly common in Serbia. Since the beginning of the student protests, pro-government tabloids have repeatedly attempted to portray students, journalists, academics, and activists as enemies rather than citizens exercising their democratic rights. Such campaigns foster hostility, encourage harassment, and place real people at risk. What stands out in this latest wave of attacks is the attempt to link the Serbian student movement with Albania's Flamingo Revolution as though regional solidarity itself were something suspicious. In reality, these movements emerged independently, responding to different local circumstances. Yet they share many of the same democratic aspirations: demanding transparency, accountability, protection of public goods, and institutions that serve citizens rather than political elites. They also reflect a generation that refuses to accept corruption, state capture, and the privatization of resources that belong to everyone. Across the region, young people have increasingly recognized that many of the challenges they face are interconnected. Debates around public land, urban development, environmental protection, democratic participation, and the influence of powerful political and business interests do not stop at national borders. Whether discussing the Albanian coastline or public assets in Serbia, these conversations are rooted in a broader struggle over who has the right to shape the future of their communities. This growing regional dialogue is precisely what makes initiatives such as the Youth Summit in Novi Pazar so important. They create spaces where young people from different countries can meet not as enemies defined by the past, but as partners committed to justice, democracy, and a more peaceful future. At Balkan Talks, we witness this every single day. Our platform exists because young people throughout the Western Balkans want dialogue instead of hatred, cooperation instead of nationalism, and reconciliation instead of division. Every article we publish, every conversation we host, and every story we amplify demonstrates that another Balkans is not only possible, but it is already being built by those who refuse to inherit old conflicts. Attempts to divide us through fear, smear campaigns, and media harassment will not succeed. To those who spread hatred, we answer with solidarity. To those who try to isolate courageous young voices, we answer by standing closer together. And to Jona, as well as to every young journalist, student, activist, and researcher who faces intimidation for speaking the truth: you are not standing alone. Balkan Talks stands with Jona Cenameri. Today and always.

Author: Almin Šemić Ovaj članak možete pročitati na naškom ovde. On the wall of a building near the Glass Bank in Mostar, behind the Croatian National Theatre, in Knez Domagoj Street, there is a graffiti piece shown in the cover photograph that testifies to the long-standing presence of various messages in Mostar’s public space. Photo sourced from the Bljesak.info news portal As can be observed, the wall surface had previously been used for different inscriptions, including football supporter markings and other messages, indicating that this space functions as an open surface for informal visual communication. At the centre of attention is the graffiti bearing the message “Death to Fascism, Freedom to the People,” over which the symbol of the Ustasha “U” has been drawn. This creates a direct and clear ideological contrast within the same visual field between the anti-fascist slogan and a symbol that carries an opposing historical and political meaning. Furthermore, the message represents both a contrast and a reflection of Mostar’s society, where individuals express their affiliation with one ideology or multiple ideologies through such graffiti. On the same wall, there is also the inscription “There Is a Western Mostar,” which can be interpreted as a form of narrative concerning the division of Mostar. Such messages do not function merely as individual expressions but as recurring discourses that shape perceptions of the city and its boundaries in a symbolic sense. As Joseph Goebbels once stated, “A lie repeated a hundred times becomes the truth.” Just imagine how many times such a message, along with similar messages, had to be repeated in order to become normalized. In the context of children and propaganda, within ten years, sustained propagandistic influence may result in people no longer knowing whether Mostar was an anti-fascist city. Consider also how many times the phrase “Mostar Gymnasium” had to be repeated in order to erase the name of Aleksa Šantić. On a road in the suburban Mostar settlement of Vrapčići, near Mikulića Mahala, a graffiti inscription containing a message directed at a particular ethnic group was written. The inscription was sprayed in black paint directly onto the asphalt, without any additional visual elements, suggesting a rapid and informal intervention in public space. This is characteristic of graffiti intended to communicate a message quickly and directly. Photo sourced from the Večernji list news portal According to media reports, specifically from Raport and Večernji List, the graffiti was noticed in the early morning hours, after which the case was reported to the competent authorities, who conducted an investigation. Available information further suggests that similar inscriptions had previously been recorded in this area, indicating a continuity in the use of public surfaces for messages carrying political and identity-related connotations. Unlike graffiti that relies on symbolism or indirect messages, this inscription is characterized by its explicit and unambiguous formulation. What distinguishes it from the graffiti discussed in the previous section of this article is precisely the directness and explicitness of its message, which does not rely on symbolic conflict but instead communicates its content openly and unequivocally. Whereas the previous graffiti functioned through the overlapping of signs and the creation of ideological conflict within the same visual space, this one relies on a clear verbal formulation that requires no additional interpretation. From an analytical perspective, as previously noted, the message of the graffiti is clearly directed toward a specific ethnic group, as evidenced by the wording itself. Its structure and choice of words indicate an attempt at direct communication with a clearly defined “other,” while public space is used as a channel for transmitting such a message. At the same time, although it is impossible to determine with certainty who was responsible for creating the graffiti, the manner in which it is formulated points to a pattern characteristic of anonymous actors operating outside institutional frameworks. It is precisely this anonymity that allows the message to exist without the assumption of responsibility, while its public visibility ensures the dissemination of the message without intermediaries. In this context, the graffiti may be interpreted as a form of expression that does not seek dialogue but rather a one-sided assertion of presence and attitude within a particular space. Its function is not informative but performative: it does not merely communicate content, but also establishes a particular relationship toward the space and the community in which it appears. It is also possible to identify elements of propaganda within this graffiti, although it does not operate through an organized or institutional form. The message is formulated directly and without symbolic complexity, which is one of the fundamental characteristics of propaganda: clarity and ease of understanding without the need for additional interpretation. It is directed toward a specific group and employs emotionally charged language, thereby attracting attention and potentially influencing both the perceptions and emotions of passers-by. Although the identity of the author remains unknown, the manner in which the graffiti was created suggests an attempt to transmit a particular viewpoint through public space and reinforce the presence of that narrative, placing it within the broader framework of informal and decentralized propaganda. One may therefore consider how many times such a propagandistic message would need to be repeated before it becomes perceived as reality. On the wall of a residential building in Mostar, a graffiti inscription containing multiple messages written in black and red spray paint can be observed. The upper section consists of a sentence referring to territorial expansion and a historical context, accompanied by a symbol and a year, while the lower section contains the inscription “Ustaše Mostar: Fascism Lives!”. Photo sourced from the Mostarski.ba news portal The use of different colours and the arrangement of the messages suggest that the graffiti was not created at a single moment but rather represents a layered intervention produced by multiple authors or during different stages. The inclusion of geographical references and ideological terminology indicates an attempt to symbolically define the space and connect it with particular historical interpretations. The upper section of the graffiti, referring to historical context and territorial boundaries, demonstrates an awareness of historical narratives and their role in contemporary public discourse. From the perspective of propaganda studies, this graffiti illustrates how public space can become a site of competing messages that seek to influence the perceptions of passers-by. The upper inscription employs historical references and territorial allusions to suggest a particular political and identity-based framework, relying on recognizable symbols and narratives that already possess emotional and ideological significance within Mostar. Such an approach corresponds to several basic principles of propaganda, including the simplification of messages, reliance on familiar symbols, and attempts to associate a specific space with a particular collective identity. Furthermore, repetition represents one of the fundamental mechanisms of propaganda. Through the repeated appearance of similar messages and symbols in public space, certain narratives may gradually become normalized and integrated into collective perceptions. This raises broader questions regarding institutional responses to such messages and the extent to which public authorities address their presence within the urban environment. If viewed alongside recent incidents, such as attempts to remove graffiti depicting Slobodan Praljak in Ortiješ, as well as acts involving the placement of Ustaša stickers and symbols on monuments in Baćevići, the graffiti may be interpreted within a wider pattern of symbolic and ideological contestation in public space. In the context of propaganda, the graffiti can also be understood as an affirmation of a particular ideological narrative that relies on historical references and symbols associated with the legacy of fascism. Such messages do not operate in isolation. Rather, they often build upon existing social and political tensions, particularly in communities such as Mostar, where public space continues to bear the legacy of the conflicts of the 1990s. In this sense, the graffiti may be connected to narratives emerging from the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina, including the conflict between Bosniaks and Croats, with symbols and messages serving as mechanisms for the reinterpretation or preservation of specific forms of collective memory. Although the territorial divisions established during the war may no longer exist in a formal sense, symbolic boundaries continue to shape public discourse and spatial perceptions within the city. The repeated appearance of ideologically charged symbols, attacks on memorial sites, and disputes over historical narratives demonstrate how public space remains a field in which competing interpretations of the past are expressed and contested. The emotional dimension of propaganda is also evident in such messages, as they seek not only to communicate information but also to provoke emotional responses and influence attitudes toward coexistence, identity, and collective belonging. On an information board located in front of a building associated with the religious and cultural institutions of the Serbian community in Mostar, specifically in front of the Bishop’s Residence, a graffiti inscription was written in purple spray paint containing the markings “1981” and “4th Corps.” Photo sourced from the Top Portal news portal These references may be linked to local identity-based and historical contexts. The number “1981” is commonly associated with the Red Army (Football club Velež Mostar) supporters’ group, while “4th Corps” refers to a formation of the Army of the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina that operated in this area during the Bosnian War. The choice of location itself—an information board identifying a museum and religious site—further emphasizes the symbolic dimension of the intervention within this space. From an analytical perspective, the graffiti can be understood as a form of symbolic marking of space, through which a particular identity framework is communicated by means of brief and recognizable references. Such messages do not necessarily require explicit verbal formulations in order to be understood by the local community, as their meaning is constructed through existing social and historical references. In this context, the graffiti may function as a signal of the presence of a particular group or narrative within a given space, especially when it is displayed at a location associated with another community. Consequently, the message may be recognizable not only to members of the local community but also to a wider audience familiar with the historical and social significance of these references. Within the framework of propaganda studies, this graffiti may be viewed as a form of symbolic and identity-based territorial marking that relies not on direct statements but on recognizable signs embedded within the local context. The inscriptions “4th Corps” and “1981” evoke wartime and supporter-group symbolism, and through the combination of these references communicate a particular identity narrative. Their meaning is further shaped by the location, given that the graffiti appears on a board situated in front of a building associated with institutions of the Serbian community in Mostar, thereby giving the message a more specific and targeted dimension. In this sense, the graffiti may be interpreted as a signal of the presence of a particular social or ideological group within a space symbolically associated with another community. Similar inscriptions containing the same references have previously been documented at this and related locations, suggesting a pattern of repetition and the use of public space for the transmission of coded messages, a characteristic feature of informal forms of propagandistic communication. At first glance, the graffiti reading “KILL THE BALIJA” at the Bunica picnic site may appear to be just another act of vandalism in public space. However, its message extends beyond ordinary graffiti and enters the sphere of hate propaganda, ethnic intolerance, and symbolic violence. The location itself further amplifies the significance of the message. A natural recreational area, which should represent a space of leisure, social interaction, and escape from societal tensions, is transformed into a site of intimidation and a reminder of wartime narratives that have not completely disappeared from the public sphere of Bosnia and Herzegovina, even decades after the conflict. Photo sourced from the Blagaj Info Facebook page The message of the graffiti is direct, aggressive, and leaves little room for interpretation. The use of the term “balija,” which is employed within nationalist discourse as a derogatory label for Bosniaks, demonstrates a clear intention to dehumanize a particular ethnic group. Dehumanization has historically been one of the central elements of hate propaganda, involving the portrayal of the “other” as inferior, dangerous, or undesirable. When such language is combined with the imperative “kill,” the graffiti moves beyond hate speech and becomes an explicit call for violence. Visually, the graffiti is not artistically complex, yet its propagandistic power lies precisely in its brutal simplicity. The black lettering, roughly painted on a concrete surface, conveys a sense of urgency and raw aggression. There is no aesthetic ambition and no symbolism intended to obscure its meaning; the objective is not artistic expression but rather the dissemination of fear and the provocation of a reaction. Graffiti of this kind often functions as a territorial marker, representing an attempt to symbolically claim space through a nationalist message. It is particularly important to consider the context of Mostar and Herzegovina, regions that continue to bear the legacy of wartime divisions. Within such an environment, graffiti can serve as a means of prolonging conflict in symbolic form. Their impact extends beyond the individual reader, influencing the broader social atmosphere by creating feelings of insecurity and reinforcing distrust between communities. In this case, the propaganda does not seek to persuade through rational argumentation but through emotions, primarily hatred, fear, and anger. Such graffiti also performs a function of normalizing extremist discourse. When messages that advocate violence remain visible in public space for extended periods without a response from institutions or the wider community, they may create the impression of social tolerance toward such expressions. In this way, the graffiti becomes more than an isolated incident; it becomes part of a broader culture of silence and passivity regarding nationalist violence. From a propaganda perspective, the graffiti employs several key mechanisms: simplification of the message, identification of an “enemy,” emotional manipulation, and public visibility. For this reason, its influence can be particularly significant among younger generations who grow up surrounded by symbols of division. Rather than encouraging dialogue and shared public space, messages of this kind contribute to an atmosphere of conflict and serve as a reminder that public space in Bosnia and Herzegovina continues to function as a site of political and identity-based struggle.

Author: Silvia Fabijanić Conflicts or rebellion against authority do not necessarily have to be violent. Nonviolent resistance does not seek victory over the enemy but the overcoming of injustice, thus a real solution and thereby the liberation of both those affected by the injustice and the opponents."1 It is about shaping actions that seek to stop wrong and harmful policies as they are being implemented, not an abstract idea that peace is "built" by the very act of resistance. Nonviolent movements throughout history have opened up space for reflection and the reshaping of social structures, often questioning relations between power, material inequalities, and dominant social norms.  During the 1990s in Serbia, public space was dominated by fear, war propaganda, and the onset of armed conflicts. While much of society passively observed the events of the war, the organization Women in Black appeared on the streets of Belgrade. Their activism was based on the clear conviction that war is wrong and must be publicly and consistently opposed while it is happening. Women in Black had no institutional power or weapons, but they possessed a strong political stance and a visible, symbolically powerful presence in public spaces, which makes their activism particularly significant. This paper focuses on the work of Women in Black during the 1990s because of the specific historical and political context, marked by war, nationalism, and strong repression. Although armed conflicts did not take place on the territory of Serbia, the state was directly involved in the wars in the territory of the former Yugoslavia. A socio-political framework characterized by propaganda, militarization, and political control was established. Under such circumstances, nonviolent resistance takes on a special gravity and risk. Photograph from the Women in Black archive, documenting the “Stop the Genocide in Gaza” protest held in Belgrade in May 2026 Years later, during 2013 and 2014, in Ukraine, under conditions of peace and without armed conflict, the pro-democracy protest movement Euromaidan emerged. The protest movement began as a response by the people to the decision by the then-President of Ukraine not to sign an agreement with the European Union and to turn the country's policy toward Russia. The movement started as a peaceful protest but later escalated into a violent conflict. This paper focuses on the role of women during the nonviolent period of Euromaidan. During Euromaidan, women stepped out of socially imposed traditional roles and actively participated in political and social changes. Although the historical, political, and social contexts of the Women in Black and the women during Euromaidan differ, they are comparable in the way women enter the political sphere nonviolently through public activism during times of profound political and social change. Neither the Women in Black nor the women during the (nonviolent) part of Euromaidan were overshadowed by men; rather, they sought to be equal to men.  We live in patriarchal social structures that systematically diminish or ignore women's overall contributions. Does women's activism in nonviolent movements serve as a corrective to social invisibility, rather than as an affirmation of difference? Based on this thesis, the paper focuses on the actions of Women in Black during the 1990s and on the participation of women in the nonviolent part of the Euromaidan protests. Although they operate in different historical and political contexts, this paper aims to present their nonviolent resistance, the motives that drive them to enter the public sphere, the risks they face, their level of visibility, and the contribution they have made to society through their nonviolent actions.  This paper is based on a qualitative analysis of secondary sources. The analysis was conducted using thematic analysis of scientific, media, and audiovisual sources.  NONVIOLENT RESISTANCE AND THE ROLE OF WOMEN IN SOCIAL MOVEMENT  A passive attitude toward injustice in society is considered a greater problem than violence itself. Passivity represents implicit support for the violent structures of social power. Nonviolence is not a sign of weakness, but a conscious and deliberate abstention from violence while actively fighting against injustice. Nonviolent resistance does not seek victory over the enemy but the overcoming of injustice, thus a real solution and thereby the liberation of both those affected by the injustice and the opponents.2 It is useful to point out that nonviolent resistance is not the same as pacifism. Pacifism is a moral conviction, while nonviolent resistance is a strategic choice. People choose it because they think it will make it easier to win, not necessarily because they "love peace."3  Nonviolent movements offer various methods of action, from public protests and strikes, through boycotts and symbolic actions, to information campaigns. Their main characteristic is that they do not create moral constraints4 or other forms of obstacles.5 The accessibility for participation enables mass mobilization of citizens.  Compared to violent methods, nonviolent resistance also demonstrates strategic effectiveness. Empirical data confirms that nonviolent campaigns are twice as likely to succeed (53%) compared to violent uprisings (26%), and they also leave behind more stable and democratic societies.6 The first key reason is the aforementioned mass participation, and the second is "political jiu-jitsu." It is a mechanism in which brutal repression of peaceful protesters backfires, destroying the authorities' reputation.7  It is precisely in these mechanisms of mass participation and strategic countereffect that women are a key strategic advantage. Since women make up approximately 50% of the total population, their active involvement in resistance movements is a crucial factor in achieving critical mass. Without women, a movement cannot reach the critical mass needed to exert effective pressure on the regime's "pillars of power." The presence of women on the front lines in 99% of cases directly undermines the regime's patriarchal authority and forces security forces to question their loyalties.8On the other hand, violence directed against unarmed women dramatically increases the moral and political cost of repression.9 That women's participation is not just a statistical figure but a reality is demonstrated by the Women in Black organization in Belgrade and the massive turnout of women at the Euromaidan in Ukraine. Although they may seem difficult to compare due to different political and social circumstances, the bridge connecting them is their entry into the public sphere through nonviolent resistance.  WOMEN IN PEACE INITIATIVES IN THE BALKANS DURING THE 1990S: THE CASE OF SERBIA AND 'WOMEN IN BLACK'  The political context of 1990s Serbia was marked by strong militarism and nationalist homogenization of society, as well as the breakup of SFRY10. Slobodan Milošević11used mass rallies to consolidate his power and create an atmosphere in which any voice of reason was branded "treasonous." Although the first multi-party elections were held, the system was not truly democratic. A strong retraditionalization of society occurred. The war discourse required men to be warriors and women to be "mothers of the nation" who would bear new soldiers and remain silent. 12 The political crisis of 1990 was merely a prelude to the armed conflicts that would follow on the territory of Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina. Serbia found itself in the paradoxical position of a state with no war on its own territory, yet simultaneously carrying out mass mobilization and sending resources to the battlefields. In such a specific context—where the war is waged 'in the name of the people,' but not on their territory—a strong internal resistance emerges in the form of the organization Women in Black.  Women in Black is an activist group and network with a feminist-anti-militarist orientation, composed of women and men from different generations and ethnic backgrounds, with varying levels of education, social statuses, lifestyles, and sexual orientations. The organization grew out of earlier feminist initiatives, including Women's Studies and anti-war centers13, in response to the militaristic regime of Slobodan Milošević and the start of the war in Croatia and Bosnia. In Belgrade, on October 9, 1991, the organization began its weekly "vigil."14Every Wednesday on Republic Square in Belgrade, they stood in silence, dressed in black, holding banners. They used the traditional Eastern European/Christian custom of wearing black for the deceased, but gave it a new meaning: mourning the victims on "all three sides," which was a radical act because the regime only recognized Serbian victims. The silence served as a shield against the aggressive, male discourse of war. They chose silence as a rejection of speaking unnecessary words that prevent and hinder reflection on oneself and others. 15 They used black clothing as an "instrument of reason" and a method for their nonviolent entry into the social sphere. Through their engagement, they consciously distanced themselves from socially gender-imposed female roles and "sending sons to war," instead articulating their resistance as an independent political choice. This approach represented a radical critique of the very foundations of society, as they recognized militarism and war as direct extensions of patriarchal power structures. It was a direct blow to the very core of nationalist ideology. The members of the organization stated: We are a group of women who stand in silence and in black every week to express our disagreement with the war. We decided to show what the female side of this war is. Women in our countries wear black to express their sorrow for the deaths of their loved ones. We wear black for the deaths of all the victims of war. We wear black because people have been driven from their homes, because women have been raped, because towns and villages have been burned and destroyed."16 In addition to showing solidarity with the victims of war, the Women in Black also organized safe spaces for all men who refused military service. By practically protecting these men, they opposed the militaristic regime and shielded individuals from the state's repressive apparatus. "Women in Black also set up in a rented apartment that became a refuge for opponents of conscription and deserters. When the wars began, it is estimated that 300,000 Serb men of military age went into exile rather than fight. Providing emotional, moral, and political support to these men who refused to participate in the fighting was one of the practical ways the women acted on their feminist and anti-militarist ideas. Some of these men, in turn, became valued members of the organization." 17 Because of their views, Women in Black were subjected to various forms of attacks. The attacks included verbal and physical assaults on the streets, both during and outside of street actions, destruction of the organization's property, death threats against members, organized witch hunts and calls for lynching, and sexist outbursts. The use of sexist insults served to reduce their political message to "female hysteria" or moral depravity. Regime media called them "traitors," "foreign mercenaries," and other derogatory names and conducted media campaigns against the members. Almost no street action by Women in Black went by without physical and/or verbal attacks.18The attacks were not spontaneous actions or random incidents but were organized and systemic acts aimed at discrediting, isolating, and intimidating the members. In addition to random passersby, they were often attacked by organized groups such as members of paramilitary formations or far-right extremists. The sources of repression were society and the state apparatus. They were "traitors" because they rejected national homogenization and spoke publicly about the crimes being committed at the time by their own nation. One of the members stated: "We protested in the street and exposed our bodies [using the body as an integral part of the political message] against the regime…people would come up to us who spat on us, pushed us, pulled our hair, and yelled that we were traitors.." 19 Police officers would often stand by while passersbys attacked the women, intervening only when the situation escalated. Sometimes, the police officers themselves would hurl insults at the activists. The police's lack of reaction to these events indicated how complicit state authorities were in restricting the right to freedom of assembly.20  By standing in black, remaining silent, showing courage, and engaging in nonviolent action, they became highly visible in the public sphere of Serbian society in the 1990s. Women in Black were the first to show that it was possible to "take to the streets" in a strictly controlled regime. Their concept of long-term persistence (standing every week for years) is proof of the "possibility of nonviolent resistance" even under the harshest conditions. In doing so, they proved that a 'minority' movement can become the 'moral compass' of a society, ensuring that a critical voice is heard even in moments of greatest silence. They created a recipe for nonviolent resistance and perseverance.  After the end of all the armed conflicts in which Serbia was involved, Women in Black did not stop their work. They shifted their focus to confronting the past, being in solidarity with all victims of war, honoring the victims by visiting war crime sites, and insisting that the crimes not be forgotten and that Serbia's institutions confront what was done.21  From the 1990s to today, the government in Serbia has changed, but the deep-seated mechanisms of the system have remained the same. After the collapse of the overhang at the Novi Sad train station (November 1, 2024), which killed 16 people, a new turning point was reached in Serbian society. A new wave of nonviolent resistance has begun, initiated by students demanding accountability for the deaths of 16 people and a change in political leadership. At the time of writing, the protests are still ongoing. The organization Women in Black has offered its full support to the students. In the new nonviolent resistance on the streets across Serbia, female students are not just participants; they actively take part in the blockades and are also targeted by police intimidation and physical and verbal attacks by the authorities.  WOMEN AS AGENTS OF NONVIOLENT RESISTANCE DURING EUROMAIDAN  On November 21, 2013, in Ukraine, protesters gathered on the main square in Kyiv to protest President Viktor Yanukovych.22 At that time, Ukraine was at a deeply divided crossroads between European integration and a renewed strong bond with Russia. Uncertainty about the country's future direction was caused by President Yanukovych's sudden withdrawal from Ukraine's Association Agreement with the European Union. For some Ukrainian citizens, membership in the European Union represented the only hope of bringing prosperity to Ukraine.23Aside from the latter reason, discontent among Ukrainian citizens had been smoldering for years. The causes lay in the oligarchic-clan system of power, corruption that permeated every sphere of society, and distrust in state institutions.24All of these were key drivers that brought the people of Ukraine onto the streets and sparked the Revolution of Dignity, better known as Euromaidan. Depending on the authors, the uprising can be divided into two phases: the first phase, which began in 2013 with peaceful student protests in Kyiv, and the second phase in 2014 when the protests spread across the entire country, and police repression turned them from peaceful demonstrations into mass violent protests.25This paper is based on the nonviolent part of Euromaidan and at a time when there is no immediate danger of war.  Although Ukraine has experienced earlier revolutions, during Euromaidan women nonetheless transitioned from the role of "helpers" to that of "creators" of the revolution. "Women of Euromaidan" do not operate as an organization, like Women in Black, and therefore cannot be precisely defined. They are a generation of women who simultaneously navigated imposed traditional roles and actively participated in other protest roles, thereby permanently redefining public space in Ukraine. Their presence was multifaceted, and they occupied a space that was often under the strict supervision and regulation of male protesters. Although the media often emphasized the male aspects, women made up a huge part of the movement. At the very beginning of the protests, women made up as much as 44% of all participants.26According to the research, the motives for participating in the protest were multiple and often overlapping. The most common motive was opposition to corruption and human rights violations (60%), solidarity with the protesters (32%), the fight for a better future for their children (27%), and a sense of civic duty and helping society (24%).27  Many women embraced traditional female roles and were often seen by fellow protesters, as well as the broader public, as aides to the male protesters rather than as revolutionaries in their own right.28Their reproductive work—such as cooking, cleaning, laundry, and logistics—was often undervalued and considered less important than the "real" fighting on the barricades.29 In the post-Soviet context of Ukraine, such work in the private sphere (associated with women) is considered less prestigious and rarely receives public recognition compared to "real" work in the public sphere. However, although at the start of the protests women were pushed into traditional roles, they took on the roles which marked the beginning of their growing visibility within the patriarchal environment. Women began offering legal aid to protesters, organizing public lectures and documentary film screenings within the camp, patrolling barricades, distributing food and providing medical assistance, participating in negotiations, providing informational support, and handling logistics.30Ukrainian women thus fought for and occupied spaces traditionally reserved for men in the public sphere of a patriarchal society. Thanks to their participation in the Euromaidan protests, they became equal partners who shaped the protest and occupied male public spaces, unlike in earlier revolutions.31  The most prominent example of their organization was the founding of the Euromaidan SOS initiative.32The leaders of the initiative were women, most of whom were human rights activists.33Within the framework of the initiative, they coordinated activities, monitored cases of abuse, and ensured access to legal protection, thereby shielding individuals from the state's repressive apparatus.  In addition to their involvement in mixed-gender collectives, they also operated through independently organized initiatives. They founded independent Women's Battalions ("Women's Sotnya") with the aim of making women's contributions visible and as a direct initiative by feminists appalled by the revolution's sexism. The most famous was the "Olga Kobylianska" Women's Battalion.34Although it was called a "battalion," it was not a military or violent formation, but rather an independent women's initiative focused on self-defense, guard duty, and organizational support within the nonviolent protest movement.  The activists organized special actions like "Women's Solidarity Night" to draw attention to their contributions, marching through Euromaidan with instruments and chanting "Freedom, equality, women's solidarity!". Their actions provoked hostile reactions from some protesters; they were told, "You're provocateurs! What are you doing?" and their banners were torn down.35Examples of sexism and misogyny were common. In the kitchens, you could find signs like: "Dear women, if you see trash - clean it up, [male] revolutionaries will be pleased," and there were also ads looking for "young women to create a positive atmosphere."36There was also strong rhetoric among the male protesters and their "concern for women" that aimed to keep women away from "danger zones," not viewing them as capable of making decisions on their own.37  One of the more creative nonviolent actions by the protesters was the "Mirror Action." It was a powerful tactic in which protesters held torso-sized mirrors with the message "God, is that me!" as a counter-response to the police shields. The idea was for the police to see their reflections in the mirrors and confront their own actions. In addition, the protesters offered tea to the police officers, played their national anthem, and attached flowers to the officers' shields.38  Unfortunately, clashes with the police soon broke out, and Euromaidan became a violent protest. The police's violent crackdown on the protesters led to a large number of injuries and deaths, the radicalization of the protesters, and ultimately the flight of President Yanukovych. "I realized that this was serious, that the state had now turned against its own people."39It was precisely this realization of a state attacking its own citizens that was key to mobilizing women who had not previously considered themselves politically active. However, during Euromaidan, women in Ukraine had already shown how important they are in the public sphere through nonviolent engagement and participation, and how they can stand on equal footing with men.  After Euromaidan in 2014, there was the Russian annexation of Crimea40and the war in Donbas.41Tensions continued over the following years, until the end of February 2022, when Russia launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine, which remains an ongoing conflict. Unlike the Women in Black who were active in Serbia in the 1990s, a territory where no war was taking place, the women of Ukraine find themselves in a situation where an armed conflict is currently being waged on their territory. Thus, due to the newly emerged political and social circumstances, Ukrainian women have developed the view that defending the country is a prerequisite for preserving women's rights. They believe that a Russian victory means the end of human rights and feminist achievements in Ukraine, and therefore, defense (which includes both men and women) is necessary.42 

Author: Mirjana Popović, Sociologist Ovaj članak možete pročitati na crnogorskom ovde. Peer violence is one of the most serious challenges facing contemporary Montenegrin society. While violence among children and adolescents exists in every country, specific social, cultural, and institutional circumstances in Montenegro make this issue particularly pronounced and concerning. The consequences of peer violence extend far beyond the immediate victims, affecting society as a whole through the reproduction of aggressive behavioral patterns, the deterioration of mental health, and the erosion of fundamental values such as empathy, solidarity, and respect. Illustration photo. Retrieved from Pexels (www.pexels.com) The most visible indicator of the problem is the growing number of cases of peer violence and the increasingly severe forms it takes. Today’s children are exposed not only to physical and verbal abuse but also to psychological harassment, social exclusion, humiliation, and, increasingly, cyberbullying through social media and digital communication. Unlike previous generations, violence no longer ends when children leave the schoolyard—it often continues online, sometimes in even more harmful and relentless forms. Unfortunately, institutional responses have not been sufficiently effective. Although laws, protocols, and professional support services exist, their implementation remains limited. Schools, which should provide safe environments for children’s development, often avoid reporting incidents of violence in order to protect their reputation. Parents, meanwhile, sometimes deny or minimize the seriousness of the problem, shifting responsibility onto one another or onto the system itself. This atmosphere of uncertainty and silence further aggravates the situation and sends a message to children that they are largely left to cope on their own. Sadly, many children feel exactly that way. The broader social and cultural context in Montenegro further complicates efforts to combat violence. The long-standing legacy of patriarchal values, the prevalence of aggressive rhetoric in public discourse and the media, and a low tolerance for difference all contribute to an environment in which violent behavior is often tolerated or even justified. Children learn by observing those around them. If they see conflicts being resolved through force and aggression, they are likely to adopt the same behavioral patterns. Particularly alarming are the consequences for young people’s mental health. Victims of bullying frequently experience anxiety, depression, insomnia, diminished self-esteem, and, in some cases, suicidal thoughts. Emotionally, they often struggle with fear, shame, helplessness, and loneliness. Their confidence deteriorates, and they lose trust in both themselves and others. In the educational context, victims may begin avoiding school, experience declining academic performance, or even leave the education system altogether, creating additional personal and social challenges. All of this underscores the seriousness of the consequences that peer violence can have when it is not addressed adequately and in a timely manner. However, perpetrators are not unaffected by these dynamics either. Many carry emotional trauma, feelings of guilt, or later become involved in conflicts with the law. This contributes to the emergence of generations that are emotionally unstable and socially dysfunctional. It often seems that, as a society—and particularly within the institutions responsible for addressing these issues—we fail to recognize this broader picture of social relations. As a result, responses are frequently short-term, ineffective, and populist, failing to address the root causes of the problem. Both schools and the wider community continue to lack systematic and continuous prevention efforts. Intersectoral cooperation remains insufficient, and even when intervention processes are initiated, they often remain largely formalistic. Programs aimed at developing emotional intelligence, empathy, nonviolent communication, and conflict-resolution skills are either rare or optional. Consequently, opportunities to prevent problems before they escalate are frequently missed. A national framework for combating peer violence should be grounded in a clear and comprehensive societal strategy. However, creating and adopting national strategies and accompanying action plans is not enough; success depends on effective implementation. Achieving meaningful progress requires the regular collection and analysis of data on peer violence. Unfortunately, as a society, we still underestimate the importance of databases, registries, statistical records, and sociological and anthropological analyses in addressing this social problem and understanding its dynamics, forms, and prevalence. Relevant institutions—particularly those within education, social and child protection, and healthcare—must continuously invest in professional training and capacity-building. Equally important is the development of accountable and transparent institutions that genuinely serve the public interest and respond to citizens’ needs. While schools and the education system must establish clear rules and procedures, prevention remains the key. Parents must be actively involved in order to create a unified approach and consistent support in both school and family environments. Equally important is fostering relationships of trust between students and teachers. Children are far more likely to report violence when they know they will be heard, protected, and not exposed to further risk as a result of speaking out. This is why teachers, school counselors, and other staff members must be trained to recognize the signs of violence and respond appropriately. Combating peer violence is a long-term process that requires commitment, expertise, and cooperation among all stakeholders in education. Schools should be places where students feel safe, accepted, and respected. Prevention, education, support, and decisive responses to violence form the foundation of a healthy and empathetic community. Through a proactive approach and the cultivation of a positive school climate, schools can not only reduce violence but also help raise responsible and compassionate citizens. In recent years, Montenegro has introduced a number of strategic measures and programs aimed at addressing peer violence. School safety assistants have been engaged, international projects have been implemented in cooperation with the Council of Europe, protocols have been developed, and workshops and training sessions for teachers have been organized. Nevertheless, despite these efforts, the number of reported cases continues to rise. This is also, in part, a positive development, as greater awareness, education, and support have encouraged more students and teachers to report incidents. At the same time, we must remain aware that many victims still remain silent, some schools continue to avoid acknowledging the problem, and many parents are unaware of what their children are experiencing. Although progress has been made, systemic change remains slow. Long-term investments, continuous evaluation of programs, and locally tailored approaches are essential. Schools differ from one community to another, and children do not all have the same needs. What works in one environment may prove ineffective in another. Establishing standards is only the first step; without consistent implementation, ongoing training, and trust between schools, students, and parents, meaningful change will remain limited. Peer violence in Montenegro is not an isolated problem affecting only individual students, schools, or families. Given its frequency, intensity, and evolving forms, this phenomenon reflects the broader state of society itself. Addressing it therefore requires a collective effort involving schools, parents, institutions, the media, and students. Only a society that recognizes the importance of mental health, tolerance, and nonviolence can move toward sustainable development, progress, and social well-being.

There are moments when an award feels less like the end of a journey and more like a reminder of why that journey began in the first place. For all of us at Balkan Talks, receiving the Regional "Jelena Šantić – For Courageous Steps" Award is exactly that kind of moment. The award, presented by the Jelena Šantić Foundation and CURE Foundation, recognizes initiatives that contribute to peacebuilding, solidarity, human rights, and reconciliation across the Western Balkans through courageous civic engagement. Established in memory of Jelena Šantić—a renowned ballerina and one of the most important peace activists of the 1990s—the award honors people and organizations that continue her legacy by building bridges where others build walls. Since 2006, it has been awarded every two years to initiatives whose work promotes peace, tolerance, understanding, and solidarity through activism, culture, education, and public engagement. Jana Krstić and Bojana Vuletić, editors of Balkan Talks, delivering their acceptance speech at the award ceremony. Photo courtesy of the Jelena Šantić Foundation archives. This year, the jury selected five laureates from twenty-six nominated initiatives. Balkan Talks received the Special Recognition for creating a space where young people speak about the legacy of war, discrimination, and the building of more just societies. That sentence captures exactly what Balkan Talks has always tried to be. It started as a classroom conversation Balkan Talks did not begin as a project, a grant, or an institution. It started in 2024 as an initiative of a group of students brought together through the Balkan courses at the Invisible University for Ukraine (IUFU). We came from different countries, disciplines, and experiences, but shared one frustration: too often, young people from the Western Balkans were spoken about rather than listened to. So we decided to create the kind of platform we ourselves wished had existed. A place where young people could write without having to imitate established academic voices. A place where research could stand next to personal essays, interviews, opinion pieces, and cultural criticism. A place where difficult conversations about war, memory, feminism, education, climate justice, discrimination, democracy, and human rights could happen without nationalist filters or imposed narratives. Today, Balkan Talks has grown into an independent regional media platform published by the Critical Education Centre (CKO). Everything we have built has been created through voluntary work, solidarity, and an incredible community of people who believed that young voices deserve to be heard. We did not build this alone This recognition belongs to everyone who has helped Balkan Talks grow. We are deeply grateful to the professors who encouraged this initiative from its very beginning and who believed that education should not end when a course finishes. Special thanks go to Vladimir Petrović, Aleksandar Pavlović, Marija Mandić, and Olesia Marković, whose teaching, mentorship, and trust helped shape not only many of our authors but also the values on which this platform rests. We are equally grateful to Vladimir Pavlović from the Belgrade Open School, whose support through the UNDP course encouraged us to continue developing Balkan Talks as an educational space beyond the classroom. Our sincere thanks also go to Balázs Trencsényi— one of the founders of the Invisible University for Ukraine—who, together with Vladimir Petrović, has supported the independence of our editorial team from the very beginning and continuously encouraged us to believe that this initiative could grow into something much larger than we had imagined. No independent media platform exists without people quietly working behind the scenes. For that reason, we owe enormous gratitude to Antonije Nojić, who has volunteered his time and expertise to provide IT support from the very first day. We also want to thank Emilija Krstić and Jelena Jaćim Jaćimović. Beyond creating the visual identity and design consistency that readers recognize today, Jelena was the person who believed in Balkan Talks enough to nominate us for this award in the first place. Finally, thank you to every member of our volunteer editorial board, every author who entrusted us with their work, every interviewee who shared their story, every organization that collaborated with us, and every reader who chose to spend time with the ideas published on our pages. This award belongs to all of you. Group photo of all laureates at the award ceremony held on 4 June at the Museum of the 1990s in Belgrade. Photo courtesy of the Jelena Šantić Foundation archives. Looking ahead One of the things that made this recognition particularly meaningful was the company in which we received it. This year's laureates remind us that peacebuilding takes many forms. Alongside Balkan Talks, the award recognized the War Childhood Museum for its work with young people through memory and dialogue, Dragan Popović for his long-standing commitment to truth, education, and responsible remembrance, the collective Karton Revolucija for its persistent defense of human rights and public goods, and the Student Plenum in Blockade of the State University of Novi Pazar for demonstrating how solidarity, democratic participation, and youth leadership can challenge prejudice and strengthen society. Photo from the award ceremony featuring students from the State University of Novi Pazar. Photo courtesy of the Jelena Šantić Foundation archives. Each of these initiatives works in a different context and in a different way, yet all of them share the same belief: that societies become stronger when people choose dialogue over division, solidarity over fear, and responsibility over silence. It is a genuine honour for Balkan Talks to stand alongside people and organizations whose work has inspired so many across the region. We sincerely congratulate all of this year's laureates and hope that this recognition will encourage all of us to continue building bridges, creating spaces for dialogue, and proving that another Western Balkans is not only possible—it is already being built by those who refuse to give up. Receiving an award named after Jelena Šantić carries a particular responsibility. Her work reminds us that peace is not built only through political agreements, but also through education, culture, dialogue, and the courage to create spaces where people genuinely listen to one another. That is exactly what we hope Balkan Talks will continue to be. A place where young people from the Western Balkans write with honesty. A place where disagreement does not prevent dialogue. A place where solidarity is stronger than fear. And, above all, a place where authentic voices matter. Thank you for walking this journey with us. The best chapters of Balkan Talks are still ahead.