In Focus
The Transformation of Josip Broz Tito’s Image in Ukrainian Soviet, Émigré, and Nazi Occupation Press
Author: Daryna Lynnyk This article is an attempt to present the image of Josip Broz Tito not in a one-dimensional interpretation, but in a broader context - in addition to Soviet sources, the materials of periodicals published under German occupation, as well as in emigration publications in Germany and Austria, are also analysed here. At the same time, due to limited access to the contemporary Ukrainian press, which is independent of ideological pressure, most of the research sources belong to the opposing propaganda poles of the Soviet and Nazi regimes. The image of Tito in these materials often serves as an ideological marker, which is used to construct ideas about ‘friends’ and ‘foes’ in the context of international politics and domestic legitimation of regimes. Picture taken from the website https://gradskiportal018.rs The figure of Josip Broz Tito vividly illustrates how the media can artificially construct public opinion under the pressure of ideological directives of totalitarian regimes, flexibly adapting narratives to changes in the political situation. The 71 sources analysed from Ukrainian periodicals allow us to trace a clear change in the rhetoric about the Yugoslav leader depending on the time, type of media and their political control. Given the specifics of political changes and the transformation of propaganda strategies, media coverage of Josip Broz Tito in the Ukrainian press is conditionally divided into four key periods: 1. 1943-1945 – Nazi German-controlled media and Tito’s “gangs” 2. 1945-1947 – Postwar glorification in the Soviet press. 3. 1948-1952 – Ideological rift between Stalin and Tito. 4. 1956-1973 – Rehabilitation of the image and return to moderate approval. This periodisation demonstrates the direct dependence of rhetorical changes in the media on the foreign policy and ideological course of the regimes that controlled the contemporary press in Ukraine. Nazi German-controlled media and Tito’s “gangs” The period of 1943-1945 is represented by 21 publications, exclusively in the media that operated under the supervision of the Nazi authorities. The largest number of references falls on 1944, the period of active hostilities between the Red Army, Bulgarian troops and the Yugoslav People's Liberation Army led by Tito and the German coalition. In these publications, the image of Tito is presented exclusively in a negative light: he is called a ‘Bolshevik bandit leader’, and the official title of Marshal of the Federal People's Republic of Yugoslavia is either put in quotation marks or accompanied by the designation ‘so-called’, which was intended to delegitimise his political status and separate him from representing the interests of the Balkan peoples1. One of the leading strategies of German propaganda was to portray Tito as a direct leader of Soviet policy, an “Agent” prepared and inspired by Moscow. However, at the same time, they do not consider him to be their puppet, which indirectly indicates his autonomy. The publication ‘Bolshevik Work in the Balkans: Who is the Communist “Marshal” Tito?’ (‘Volya Pokuttya’) notes that his units were ‘organised on the Bolshevik model’ and that he ‘received special training in Moscow’. Interestingly, they were not lying there – Tito’s army structure was heavily inspired by the Soviet, to the extent that Stalin even feared that this could damage his relations with the Western allies2. Stalin, according to the same publication, viewed Tito as “the front line of Bolshevism in Europe”3. This indicates Tito's ideological dependence on the USSR, his subordination to the Soviet secret services, and his desire to imitate the Soviet model. This characterisation shaped the image of Tito as an immediate threat, an ideological enemy, while singling him out, rather than the Balkan peoples, as the main object of confrontation. German publications systematically shaped the idea of the power of the Wehrmacht, which inflicted devastating blows on Tito's “communist gangs”4. At the same time, the Nazi press clearly demonstrated a tendency to devalue Soviet forces: communist units were labelled as "gangs" and their activities were presented as chaotic and illegitimate. In contrast, the American and British military are seen as equal adversaries, which underscores the Nazi propaganda's attempts not only to humiliate the communists but also to question the legitimacy of Western support for the Yugoslav resistance movement. Another element of the propaganda was the emphasis on the internal discord among Tito's “bandits”, the mass defections of Serbs and Italians to the German army, which was presented as supposed proof of the moral superiority of the Third Reich5. This representation was intended not only to delegitimise Tito, but also to contrast the "chaos" of the communist movement with the "order" of German control, reinforcing the message of Germans as civilizational liberators. To reinforce the dehumanisation of the Bolshevik forces, statistics were provided on the numerous crimes committed by the "communist robber gang" led by “comrade” Tito against the civilian population - rape, looting of churches, destruction of houses, murder of children, women and the elderly - which he had committed in the ‘Moscow style’ after receiving training there. Such claims were supported by geopolitical pretexts: according to the authors, these brutal methods were part of a broader Soviet strategy to reach the shores of the Adriatic Sea, implemented by Stalin's "agent" Tito6. “Tito as a conspiracy against the Serbs” A separate propaganda narrative was formed around Tito's ethnicity, a Croat who was portrayed as a fierce opponent of the Serbs. In this discourse, the Serbian people were portrayed as victims of a conspiracy of international forces: it was claimed that “Churchill and Eden betrayed the former Yugoslavia, its government and king”, and the Serbs were credited with a “historic mission” – the destruction of Bolshevism. The Tito government, according to the rhetoric of the publications, was portrayed as a "tool of the red Kremlin" and a "bandit provocation" to which there could be only one response - "the concentration of all Serbian national elements under the banner of Nedić"7. In this context, British policy was condemned as cynical and treacherous: England had first forced Serbs to "shed blood for her benefit", and when General Mihajlović, the leader of the Chetniks, the monarchist partisan resistance movement in Yugoslavia, became unnecessary to her, he was "thrown away like a squeezed citrine" in favour of a new favourite, Tito, a leader "alien to the Serbs"8. This is confirmed by a quote from Captain Jovovic used in another article: "We want to fight against our gravediggers, together with the brave German armed forces, which are not replaced by any territorial aspirations in our country"9. In this way, Tito and his allies are presented as an existential threat to the Serbian nation, which is instead heroised and given a historical role. As an alternative to Tito's "treacherous" course, the support of the pro-regime Serbian leader Milan Nedić, the head of Serbia's puppet government during the Nazi occupation, is offered. Overall, it can be argued that the Ukrainian media, controlled by the Nazi authorities, systematically denied the legitimacy of Josip Broz Tito as the head of the newly created Yugoslav state. The publications formed a stable image of Tito as a follower of Bolshevik ideology and an instrument of Soviet expansion (or at least its “agent”). Much attention was paid to attempts to oppose him to the Serbian people, presenting the latter as a victim of a conspiracy between the Communists and the Western allies. Instead, the figure of Milan Nedić, the head of the pro-regime government, was glorified as the only nationally acceptable alternative. Postwar glorification in the Soviet press. After the victory of the anti-Hitler coalition forces and the consolidation of Soviet influence in Eastern Europe, the media space on the territory of Ukraine came under the control of the USSR. The analysed corpus of materials for this period revealed only 10 publications, nine of which belong to the Soviet "Literary Gazette" [Літературна газета] and one to the émigré publication "Our Life" [Наше життя], published in West Germany. The rhetoric of heroising Tito and demonstrating him as an equal ally of Stalin became characteristic of the Soviet discourse. Thus, in an article written by the Soviet actor, People's Artist of the USSR Yuri Shumsky, the author shares his impressions of a trip to the Balkans, where, according to him, he had long wanted to go. He describes a Victory Day celebration in Yugoslavia, where the atmosphere was permeated with slogans: "Long live Marshal Stalin!", "Long live Marshal Tito!", "Stalin - Tito!", "Moscow - Belgrade!". This emotional palette is aimed at reinforcing the image of both leaders as equal heroes of the liberation struggle, united by a political union. Further, the text gives preference to the depiction of the Yugoslav partisans as heroic fighters against the Nazi occupiers. Describing the monuments, Shumsky emphasises that “from this impregnable fortress, the heroic Yugoslav partisans drove out their enemies — the German invaders.” Thus, the landscapes of Yugoslavia are intertwined with a pathos story of a common victory10. The style of this publication is journalistic – a personal, emotionally coloured story written by a popular actor inspires trust within the reader. Vivid epithets, emotional impressions, and images of festive Yugoslavia are intertwined with political slogans that gently but persistently impose the official Soviet political course through the image of culture, brotherhood, and victory. In another publication published in the “Literary Gazette”, Bulgarian literary critic Lyudmil Stoyanov provides an overview of modern Bulgarian literature, closely linking its development to the collapse of “fascism” in the region. He notes: “In the first days after the overthrow of fascism, poets came up with many poems that glorified the exploits of the Red Army, the wisdom of Stalin, the struggle of the Bulgarian partisans and the people’s army, the heroism of Marshal Tito’s troops, and the brotherhood of Slavic peoples.” Such a hierarchically constructed list of images—from the Red Army to Tito—points to the central motifs of officially approved post-war poetry. The author not only notes their presence but also approves of them, effectively legitimising the cultural orientation toward the Soviet narrative. Thus, Marshal Tito organically fits into the system of ideological symbols, as part of the liberation struggle and Slavic unity, and the article itself performs the function of cultural confirmation of this new political reality11. Ally of Lenin and Stalin The close connection between the Soviet leadership and the Yugoslav political elite is also evidenced by the article dedicated to the funeral of Mikhail Kalinin – one of the leading figures of the October Revolution and the Soviet Union. From the very first lines, Kalinin appears as a "faithful ally of Lenin and Stalin", which partially levels his own personality as a prominent politician, and instead strengthens the cult of the main Soviet leaders. At the same time, the culminating moment of the article is the description of the appearance of “Marshal Josip Broz Tito, accompanied by members of the Yugoslav government delegation,” who lays a wreath “from the fraternal Yugoslav people, in whose hearts gratitude will forever live to one of the leaders of the Soviet state for his assistance in liberating Yugoslavia from the yoke of the fascist invaders.” Such a gesture symbolises not only official political loyalty, but also demonstrates Yugoslavia’s ideological dependence on the USSR in the post-war period. Formal expressions of gratitude consolidate a hierarchical model of relations, where the USSR appears as a liberator and mentor, and Yugoslavia as a dependent follower12. The analysis of the materials also indicates the active development of cultural ties between the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia in the post-war period. The publications cover congresses, official meetings, and literary evenings during which creative works with a clear ideological undertone were exchanged. In particular, the report on the meeting with Yugoslav writers in Kyiv emphasizes the common historical struggles of the two peoples and the role of literature as a means of ideological consolidation: “The revolutionary democratic literature of Yugoslavia, like the literature of the Soviet Union, was closely connected with the struggle of its people against a fierce enemy.” At the meeting, Pavlo Tychyna read a translation of an excerpt from “Songs about the Life of Comrade Tito,” emphasising the unity of the experience of both countries: “We fought together and won together. And nothing can break our friendship, which was born in the fight against a mortal enemy.” The material pays special attention to the role of Ukrainian intellectuals, who, through translations and literary initiatives, contributed to the establishment of cultural dialogue. At the same time, the emphasis is placed on the heroization of the common past, emphasizing the “great role of the Russian people in the development of the culture of other Slavic peoples” and on the figure of Tito as a leading leader, thanks to whom, according to the narrative, these ties became possible13. A striking example of the ideological content of cultural interaction between the USSR and Yugoslavia is the publication of Maksym Rylsky’s translation of the poem by the Yugoslav poet Vladimir Nazor “Friend Tito”. In the poetic text, Tito appears as a multifaceted image — a symbol of national revival, a leader who unites disparate forces, cares for the people and embodies the features of an ideal leader. Thus, the metaphor of revival — “fire under the ashes” — indicates renewal after the destruction of the war, and the image of a river with many streams symbolises the unity of the peoples under his leadership. Tito is depicted as someone who provides prosperity—“sows flour,” “kneades new bread”—and at the same time has authority and power—“stern as a lion,” but with a “father’s heart.” The poem also emphasizes trust in the leader even in an uncertain future: Tito is depicted as a “gift of great fate” for the people14. Another example is Rodovan Zogovich’s poem “Song about the Life of Comrade Tito,” published on the front page and translated by Pavlo Tychyna. It uses the rhetoric of total identification of the leader with the people: “Tito is all of us… And he is a multitude of us.” Such poetics of merging the individual with the collective is characteristic of totalitarian discourses, where the leader personifies the masses. The lines "He was born into the world from the first branch of the CP" directly and inextricably link Tito to the Communist Party of Yugoslavia15. Both works not only testify to the formation of a cult of Tito’s personality in the Yugoslav cultural space, but also demonstrate his full approval by the official Soviet line. Their appearance in the Soviet press, in particular in translations of recognised Ukrainian poets such as Rylsky and Tychyna, testifies to the institutional legitimisation of the positive image of Tito as an “allied and fraternal leader”. Criticism of Tito’s regime The only mention of Josip Broz Tito found in the émigré press, namely in the newspaper “Nashe Zhyttia”, published in Augsburg (West Germany), is a publication in which Tito is called “marshal” without quotation marks. This form of mention indicates a certain recognition of his official status as the leader of Yugoslavia. At the same time, the general tone of the material is critical. The author of the text draws attention to Tito's silence in public speeches about the role of the international humanitarian organisation United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA) in the post-war reconstruction of the country, in particular, noting that without its help, "half of the people in Yugoslavia would have had to die of hunger". In addition, an ironic attitude is expressed towards the implementation of the Soviet model of the five-year plan ("five-year plan") in Yugoslavia, which is depicted as an ineffective instrument for "making the people happy" according to the model of Moscow's centralised policy16. Thus,the publication combines formal recognition of Tito's political status with criticism of his regime, in particular for concealing information about foreign aid and adopting Soviet models of governance. As a result, in the Soviet public discourse of 1945–1947, Josip Broz Tito appears as a heroic ally, equal to Stalin in the fight against "fascism". His activities are systematically portrayed as the embodiment of brotherhood, revolutionary devotion and care for the people, which ideologically brings Yugoslavia closer to the USSR. Through artistic images, journalistic materials and translations of Yugoslav poets, a cult of Tito's personality is gradually formed in the Soviet media, approved and supported by the official line. Thus, Yugoslavia is presented not only as a political, but also as a cultural and ideological ally, and its leader is an exemplary leader, legitimised by the Soviet state and sphere. Ideological rift between Stalin and Tito While reading Soviet publications from 1945 to 1947, it would be hard to imagine that by June 1948, the Cominform would officiallycondemn Yugoslavia for “ideological deviations,” and a sharp political conflict would erupt between Josip Broz Tito and Joseph Stalin. This sudden change in relations, which ended in an effective break, can be explained by Tito’s desire to pursue a more independent domestic and foreign policy, particularly through active participation in the Greek Civil War, the initiative to create a federation with Bulgaria, and increased influence over Albania. These actions contradicted the strategic interests of the USSR and undermined Moscow’s monopoly on setting the political course in the socialist bloc17. Among 35 analysed publications from 1945 to 1952, about 70% were printed in the émigré newspaper “Promin” (Salzburg, Austria), while the remaining 30% appeared in the “Literary Gazette”. Notably, in 1948–1949, the period immediately after the split, the “Literary Gazette” only featured one article mentioning Tito. In contrast, between 1950 and 1952, the number of such mentions increased, suggesting a shift in the Soviet media’s approach to covering the topic, although the exact reasons remain open to interpretation. In early June 1948, the “Promin” briefly reported on political purges conducted by Tito, comparing them to Stalinist purges18. This was based on the dismissal and arrest of top Yugoslav ministers, close to Tito and comrades, during the partisan war19. This suggests that Tito employed the Soviet model of political cleansing, but did so to break away from USSR influence and establish sovereign control over his state. Comparing Yugoslavia and Ukraine In the context of the political split between Stalin and Tito, one article drew a comparison between the situation in Yugoslavia and that in Ukraine, stating: “The accusations made by Moscow against Tito are the same as those once made against Ukrainian communists.” This points to shared repressive mechanisms used by Moscow against independent-minded communist leaders. Despite a certain sympathy for these “victims,” the author remains critical of Tito and his Ukrainian counterparts, calling them “lackeys” who failed to please their Moscow patrons: “Thus Tito stands as a bankrupt before his people… and a bankrupt before his master.” Still, the author supports Tito’s opposition to broader Russian imperialism, stating: “Moscow, as the centre of imperialism and as the embodiment of brutality and cynicism, must be destroyed.” However, this support does not translate into respect for Tito himself, who, according to the author, remained a follower of Stalin and never fully broke from Soviet influence20. Another article takes a more sympathetic tone toward Tito, drawing historical parallels between his resistance to Soviet pressure and the efforts of Ukrainian revolutionaries in the 1920s—such as Mykola Skrypnyk, Mykola Khvylovy, and Oleksandr Shumsky—to establish autonomous Ukrainian policies within the USSR. This comparison emphasises the continuity of the struggle for national liberation and highlights the stronger position Tito enjoys. Unlike the Ukrainian national communists, whose influence was limited to intellectuals and students, Tito, the article notes, had much broader support: “Tito enjoys far more advantageous and solid positions compared to Skrypnyk and Khvylovy… He has not only the whole nation behind him but also a fully armed army—even his own NKVD.” The author thus places hope in Tito as a potential symbol of resistance to imperial pressure, where Ukrainian predecessors failed21. Assumptions about the world war The “Promin” also underscores the significance of the Moscow-Yugoslavia conflict, calling it “the first serious defeat of Moscow in the Balkans” and “the first major crack in Moscow’s offensive front in Europe.” The article highlights that Tito violated the only concrete “principle” — obedience to Moscow — thereby openly defying Kremlin control. In this context, “the foundation of Moscow’s power… is terror,” but “Tito has proven that… Moscow’s terror can be resisted.” Therefore, Tito not only defied the Kremlin’s line but challenged the effectiveness of Stalinist terror as the primary tool of control. The article concludes with a broader implication: “The defeat of Moscow’s expansionism in the Balkans… will reduce the power of terror along the entire front.” The author sees the Yugoslav conflict as the beginning of the weakening of Stalin’s dominance model in other occupied countries22. In another article featuring commentary by Randolph Churchill, Winston Churchill’s only son, the conflict between Tito and Stalin is seen as a potential precursor to a large-scale armed confrontation, possibly even a world war. The author presents a grim scenario: should the USSR invade Yugoslavia, Western nations—due to alliance obligations—would have to intervene on Tito’s side, potentially sparking a third world war. A comparison of the Kremlin’s tactics to those of Nazi Germany intensifies the threat: “Moscow will follow Hitler’s pre-war strategy.” The article emphasises how swiftly Stalin could overtake Yugoslavia, stating that the Kremlin “needs an easy and cheap victory.” These statements aim to instil a sense of impending catastrophe, fueled by the belief that “Stalin and his criminal gang” could replicate the horrors of World War II. The use of historical analogies, appeals to authority (Churchill), and the framing of a civilized West against an aggressive East helps shape the article’s political message: the conflict with Tito is not local, but a sign of a wider imperialist threat from the USSR23. A review of a Daily Mail article titled Discord in the Moscow Family shows how the Western press used irony and strategic quotations from communist sources to dismantle the image of a united Soviet front — a tactic that the Ukrainian émigré community leveraged to reinforce its anti-Soviet narrative. The article opens with a telling statement: “The Soviet Union now has trouble not only on the external front but also internally,” portraying the USSR as a crumbling hegemon. Criticism is particularly sharp in examples from allied states: Finnish communists fall out of favour after electoral losses; Polish leader Bolesław Bierut is depicted as a puppet of Moscow’s agents; and Hungarian police are depicted as a terror instrument against “enemies of the people.” In this context, though Tito is not mentioned directly, he serves as a shadow hero of the discourse. The paper implies that Yugoslavia’s independence became a chilling precedent for the Kremlin: “Intended… for those party cadres tempted by Tito’s heresy.” This reflects the Soviet perception of any alternative political line as an existential threat. Thus, Tito becomes a symbol of political courage and independence — a challenge to the centre — used as a “negative example” to discipline other socialist bloc countries24. Further interpretations of the Belgrade-Moscow split Further confirmation comes in another article analysing Soviet-Chinese relations, where the author poses a striking question: could Mao be “another Tito”? This short yet conceptually significant question shows that by 1949, Tito had become a symbol of the “independent communist”— a leader able to challenge Moscow not from the West, but from within the communist camp. Thus, Tito and Yugoslavia acquired new global meaning as markers of political autonomy inside the “socialist bloc”. In Soviet literary journalism of the USSR-Yugoslavia conflict period, the image of Josip Broz Tito was consistently demonised using extremely aggressive language. In the cited texts, he is depicted as an “executioner” and leader of a “fascist agency” working for the “Anglo-American imperialists.” This rhetoric presents Tito as a traitor to socialism and a servant of Western capitalism, aligned with the “imperialist” anti-Soviet front. This narrative became particularly prominent in 1949, when Albania, under Enver Hoxha, aligned closely with the USSR as its main strategic ally. After the 1948 split between Moscow and Belgrade, Tito was perceived by the Albanian leadership as the embodiment of “betrayal” within the socialist camp. Yugoslavia, which previously had significant influence over Albania, particularly through military and economic aid, came to be seen as the main threat to Albania’s independence and ideological purity. That same year, Albania launched major political purges, including the arrest and execution of Koçi Xoxe, a former deputy premier accused of links to Yugoslavia. His name appears in quotes as a symbol of a conspiracy organised by Tito to destabilise the country. The article’s conclusion about the failure of the “black schemes” of Yugoslav agents serves not only an ideological purpose but also helps consolidate the internal political legitimacy of Hoxha’s regime25. Despite its economic weakness, Albania sought to present itself as an independent and Kremlin-loyal state in a newly divided communist world. Thus, the analysed text demonstrates how publicist writing of the era became a tool for ideological mobilisation, anti-Yugoslav propaganda, and an affirmation of loyalty to the “correct” Soviet line. In another article, while glorifying the Stalinist army, Tito is described as a “mercenary of American intelligence,” a direct accusation of betrayal and collaboration with the Soviet bloc’s enemies. This branding likens him to spies and hostile agents, emphasising distrust and hostility. Tito’s actions are portrayed as a string of failures—“suffering failure after failure”—creating the image of a weak and unsuccessful opponent, unable to stop the socialist movement. The harsh label “cutthroats” used for Tito’s supporters emphasises their violent and negative portrayal in Soviet propaganda. The overall tone is purely propagandistic, casting Tito as an enemy of peace and progress, a “traitor” and “mercenary” of Western imperialists. Meanwhile, the Soviet Army is depicted as a force of peace, justice, and protector of the working class’s interests, positioning itself as the moral and political counterpoint to the enemy figure of Tito26. Tito as agent to the West In an important article by Ivan Statyvko titled “Tito’s Clique — The Arch-Enemy of Humanity”, Tito’s achievements in fighting the Nazis, which were once described by the Soviet media as “heroic” are either ignored or outright denied. The author accuses him of collaborating with Anglo-American forces, which Soviet propaganda claimed sought to occupy the Balkans, and asserts that Tito actively assisted in that plan. Particular emphasis is placed on his hostility toward the Red Army, which had “liberated” Yugoslavia, used as evidence of his disloyalty to the Soviet bloc: “…Even during the war, Tito appealed to the American-English cannibals for help in fighting the national liberation movement.” Tito is thus portrayed as a vassal and agent of the West—a classic propaganda tactic used to justify Soviet confrontation with Yugoslavia. The use of the term “Tito’s gangs,” which was widely used by Nazi-controlled media during WWII, adds further negative and demoralising connotations and deliberately associates Tito with terrorist and criminal elements27. This reinforces Tito’s image as an enemy of the people and ideological adversary of the socialist ideal, which, according to Soviet propaganda, was best realised by the USSR. Thus, in the media of the Ukrainian émigré community in Austria, the image of Tito was initially received—albeit with some scepticism—with hope that he could emerge as an independent, ideologically consistent "only orthodox Marxist"28, capable of standing up to "Russian imperialism" in a broad sense. This image resonated with the legacy of Ukrainian revolutionaries and fighters who had unsuccessfully attempted to challenge Moscow’s dominance. Even in materials where Yugoslavia was not the direct subject of analysis, Tito appeared as a symbol of defiance against Stalinist orthodoxy and a possible form of independence that continued to threaten the “Soviet family” beyond the Balkans. This gave rise to analogies like the “Polish Tito”29 or the “Asian Tito”30, representing deviations from the Soviet political line and dependency. In response, Soviet newspapers aggressively and persistently labelled Tito with emotionally charged accusations of "betrayal," revising and discrediting the heroic narrative of their joint struggle against fascism. His image was transformed into that of a capitalist “imperialist” agent, a view reinforced by comments from Soviet military and party officials, which lent credibility and amplified the propagandistic narrative. 1956–1973 – Rehabilitation of the Image and Return to Moderate Approval. From 1952 to 1956, based on available sources, there is an almost complete absence of mentions of Tito in the Soviet Literary Gazette. This can be explained by several major political transformations in the USSR that began after Stalin died in 1953. Nikita Khrushchev’s rise to power marked a significant policy shift, including the launch of the de-Stalinization process in 1956, which was accompanied by the "Thaw" and the rehabilitation of Stalin’s victims. As noted by scholar Svetozar Rajak31, for Khrushchev, normalising relations with Yugoslavia was a vital component of successfully implementing de-Stalinization, since without reestablishing dialogue with Tito, the process could not be considered complete or coherent. With the start of the "Thaw," mentions of Tito were scarce and mostly limited to events such as his official visit to Moscow or friendly football matches with Yugoslav teams. At the same time, there were no public statements recognising past slander or acknowledging the mistakes of the Stalinist-era campaign against Tito. Instead, articles began to appear that gradually restored a positive image of Tito as an "outstanding leader of the Yugoslav people", "one of the leading figures in the international workers’ movement", and an honoured guest — especially since his 1956 visit to Moscow marked the beginning of reconciliation between the two socialist countries32. An example of a notable shift toward positive rhetoric about Tito in the Soviet press is a 1962 publication in the Literary Gazette. The article describes Tito’s official visit to Kyiv, emphasising his status as a "respected and welcome guest." The joint presence of Tito and Chairman of the Soviet Council of Ministers Nikita Khrushchev highlighted the parity of the two leaders and the high diplomatic level of relations between their countries. Of particular symbolic importance is the joint tribute paid to the memory of those fallen in World War II — specifically, Tito’s laying of a wreath at the obelisk on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Kyiv’s Park of Eternal Glory. This gesture illustratesthe Soviet side’s acceptance of a shared narrative of the struggle against fascism, contrasting sharply with the propaganda of the Stalin-Tito conflict period, when Soviet media tried to erase Yugoslavia from the collective "heroic" past33. Positive image of Tito, again In the 1970s, the image of Josip Broz Tito in the Soviet “Sportyvna Hazeta” was shaped exclusively in a positive, ceremonial, and diplomatically emphasised light. In issues from 1972 and 1973, he is portrayed as a high-ranking allied leader—President of the SFRY and head of the League of Communists of Yugoslavia—whose visits to Moscow or Kyiv were accompanied by official ceremonies, meetings with top Soviet officials such as Brezhnev, Kosygin, Podgorny, and Shcherbytsky, and mass support from the working people. Public displays of welcome, such as applause at airports, flag-decorated streets, national anthems, and the presentation of bread and salt, symbolised not only respect for Tito but also a desire to demonstrate unity between Yugoslavia and the USSR. The entire discourse aimed to showcase restored fraternity after the Stalin-era conflict. Interestingly, even in a sports newspaper—traditionally focused on physical culture—Tito’s image was politicised and integrated into the state’s ideological rhetoric34. Brezhnev’s rise to power contributed to stabilising Soviet foreign policy, and during this time, official visits became an important tool for demonstrating loyalty, partnership, and ideological convergence. The solemn coverage of such events in the press, including the “Sportyvna Hazeta”, served as a marker of strong intergovernmental relations and proof that Yugoslavia—despite its independent path—remained a desired ally in the socialist camp. Thus, even in media not intended for political analysis, visual and semiotic means were used to form and solidify the image of Tito as an equal and respected "comrade" who reinforced socialist unity. Accordingly, Soviet propaganda in the 1960s–70s sought to gradually and moderately transition toward normalising relations with Yugoslavia and with Josip Broz Tito personally. Symbolic recognition was returned to him as the leader of a socialist state, albeit without the hyperbolic heroization that characterised the immediate postwar years. At the same time, it’s important to emphasise that this process took place without any public reconsideration or even mention of the earlier Soviet propaganda campaign against Tito, when he was vilified as a “traitor to socialism” and an “agent of imperialism.” The former rhetoric was simply ignored, while a new narrative was constructed, focusing on “friendship,” “cooperation,” and “socialist solidarity.” The methods used by the Soviet propaganda apparatus remained unchanged: tightly controlled press, centralised message formulation, ritualised coverage of visits (official ceremonies, mass greetings, children with flowers, bread and salt, etc.), and the manipulative creation of a positive image through visual and textual markers. All of this served as a tool for shaping the collective imagination of “unity among socialist nations,” even when this unity was built on past conflict and contradictions. Thus, Soviet media created the illusion of uninterrupted friendship, denying the ideological war of the past, and instead convincing Soviet citizens of the stability and inviolability of international socialist unity, now once again symbolised by Josip Broz Tito. Conclusion: from hero, to traitor, to ally again The Ukrainian community—both under Soviet control, during Nazi occupation, and in emigration—showed significant interest in the geopolitical developments centred around Yugoslav leader Josip Broz Tito. His persona deserves special attention and in-depth study, as he navigated between competing ideologies, both of which exploited his image for their own political goals. Accordingly, his portrayal changed multiple times to suit the rhetoric that was advantageous at any given moment — facts were manipulated, information was withheld, or reality was deliberately distorted. From the analysis, it becomes clear that the media of the postwar Ukrainian émigré community in Austria are less biased and more reliable sources than all others analysed. These outlets were sceptical of both the Nazis and the Soviets but viewed events through the lens of their primary goal—restoring Ukrainian statehood. During the short but active period of German occupation, Tito was portrayed exclusively as a "follower of Soviet Bolshevik policy," which they perceived as criminal and illegitimate. In Soviet discourse, Tito’s image underwent dramatic transformations: from glorification—being placed on the same level as Stalin and celebrated in poetry—to complete repudiation, accusations of betrayal, distortion of the recent “heroic” past, and being labelled an "agent of Anglo-American imperialism" and an "enemy of the working people." This turning point was a result of the political split between Stalin and Tito. However, with the rise of a more liberal leadership, and without publicly acknowledging past mistakes or expressing regret, a process of cautious normalisation began—a return to a positive portrayal of Tito, though in a more reserved form. This example shows how perceptions of historical figures depend less on their actual actions and positions than on how they are portrayed, shaped by personal, ideological, and political biases. Footnotes
History Did Not Begin in 1999
If you would like to read this article in Serbian, click here. Author: Ana Milosavljević This article was originally published on author's Substack, where more of her critical writing is available. On the anniversary of NATO’s bombing of Serbia, a look at what public discourse remembers — and what it erases. A banner outside the Serbian parliament condemning NATO’s killing of children Every year on March 24, the same narrative dominates public discourse in Serbia: over 2,000 civilians killed in an illegal, unprovoked NATO aggression under the pretext of saving Kosovar Albanians. Politicians, the media, and unfortunately, many part of the so-called left in Serbia focus on the very real damage that the bombing inflicted, but do so without any recognition of what the Serbian state was doing in Kosovo in the years preceding the bombing. I spoke with two Albanian Kosovars and one Kosovar Serb about their interpretation of today’s commemoration, their thoughts on NATO and Serbian state violence, and what it will take for Serbs and Albanians to unite in a common struggle. Today, politicians and media outlets (both regime and opposition) frame the events of 27 years ago as one wherein Serbia was the sole victim. They frequently convey Albanian suffering at the hands of the Serbian state as a conspiracy conjured up by the West in order to justify intervention. The facts tell a very different story. NATO bombing of Novi Sad, Serbia in 1999 Between 1998 and 1999, Serbian forces displaced around 850,000 Albanians from their homes in Kosovo. By the end of the war, over 10,000 Albanians were killed and thousands were raped or tortured. Mass graves of Albanians were later found in multiple locations in Serbia, with nearly 1,000 bodies transferred and buried in secret. Many people are still missing to this day. Soldier testimonies are similarly disregarded in Serbian public discourse. One Serbian commander of a tank unit was recorded stating, “For the entire time I was in Kosovo, I never saw a single enemy soldier and my unit was never once involved in firing at military targets. The tanks which cost $2.5 million each were used to slaughter Albanian children… I am ashamed.” Regarding the systematic exclusion of these historical realities from today’s discourse, I spoke with Kosovar Albanians: Lea1, living in Prishtina, and Arbër, part of the Kosovar Albanian diaspora in London. Lea remarked that the presentation of the NATO bombing without any recognition of the suffering Albanians went through leaves her feeling “gaslit” and “dehumanized.” “It’s not a starting point that we can engage with…Because on our side there has also been a lot of work done to recognize victims of the war who were Serbs” she adds. Arbër similarly commented that “it feels like a slap in the face in many ways,” saying that such a narrative reflects a broader trend of erasure of the experiences Albanians in Kosovo have faced, not only during 1998–1999, but throughout the 20th century. This erasure did not begin in 1999. For Albanians, it reflects a longer history of repression, from early 20th century Yugoslav colonization campaigns to institutional discrimination and violence in the 1990s. A map from the 20th century that reads “Post-war colonization in southern Serbia” and includes Kosovo and North Macedonia. It’s not only Albanians who criticize this discourse. Marija Savić, from Gnjilana, Kosovo described the Serbian mainstream portrayal of the bombing as one of “selective memory” which “serves to reproduce a nationalist narrative.” “The focus is exclusively on Serbia as a victim of external aggression, while there is no systemic reckoning with the continuous repression of the Albanian people in Kosovo: from colonial policies and violence in the early 20th century, through institutional discrimination in Yugoslavia, to the open system of apartheid and repression against Albanians during the 1990s,” she said. It is precisely that context which helps explain why many Kosovar Albanians welcomed NATO’s intervention, which brought an end to Serbian rule in Kosovo. As Lea explains: “The intervention in 1999 stopped the war and enabled us to go back to our lives, homes, institutions. It can be true that the intervention was colonial in nature and caused civilian casualties and had other negative effects, and also that the period after the war and after the declaration of independence in 2008 brought a lot of hope to a lot of people here, who just a decade before were living their everyday lives in constant fear.” Arbër similarly described his own contradictory feelings about NATO: “Although I acknowledge NATO’s presence in Kosovo removed Serbia, which was a regional colonizer of us as a community, I also acknowledge the problems of NATO as a governing body as well… I’m not going to feel indebted for the rest of my life, and I’m not going to be morally manipulated by NATO as a governing body to erase the realities and the problematic things that they do as an institution.” Newspapers in Kosovo reporting the declaration of Kosovo Independence on February 17, 2008. Marija similarly stressed that it was necessary to critically assess both NATO and the Serbian state and that the two are not mutually exclusive. “The discourse in Serbia on this issue is entirely binary; if you criticize the role of the Serbian state, you are labeled an NGO traitor, while if you criticize NATO aggression, you are labeled a Serbian nationalist - yet neither of these is true. NATO and the Serbian state are very similar in their repressive and colonial policies.” Statements by US officials reinforce the argument that NATO’s intervention was not humanitarian in nature. As Strobe Talbott, US Deputy Secretary of State from 1994 to 2001, wrote: “It was Yugoslavia’s resistance to the broader trends of political and economic reform — not the plight of Kosovar Albanians — that best explains NATO’s war.” Lea and Arbër both expressed a willingness to critically examine NATO’s role in Kosovo — on the condition that Serbian society confronts its own revisionist narratives. “I’m open to participating in any conversation that critiques the existence of NATO, but I feel a responsibility to first contend with the prejudices that prevent us from being equal participants in such conversations,” Lea said. As Arbër puts it, “on a fundamental basis, you can’t be in solidarity with people who don’t want you to have the same level of equality that they do.” The perception that Serbs do not want to live in equality with Albanians can be seen in many instances, most recently with the use of the pejorative word for Albanian used in chants against Serbian President Vučić at anti-government protests in the past year. Marija describes her own journey in confronting these realities: “It took a great deal of unlearning to free myself from anti-Albanian sentiment and nationalism… I believe that internationalism and class unity in the struggle against capitalism are the only path to the liberation of all Balkan peoples.” A lack of information about the oppressive role of the Serbian state against Albanians makes overcoming such biases difficult. After witnessing Serb after Serb not know basic historical facts about Kosovo, Arbër founded the educational and cultural platform Balkanism in 2020. Balkanism strives to deconstruct ethno-nationalist narratives from across the region through celebrating similarities and differences, while acknowledging historical oppression of various communities. “I understand that within a nation-state framework, all of us have associated ourselves with our state as an extension of ourselves. But I feel like the moment we start deconstructing that and see ourselves more as vessels of culture, history, and identity that overlap, we’re able to communicate in a way that feels much more human-centered” he says. Cover of Balkanism magazine’s first issue, published in September 2024. While Marija transformed through education and a reckoning of her own anti-Albanian biases, she believes that meaningful transformation cannot be reduced to the individual. “Anti-Albanian sentiment and the refusal to confront the past are deeply rooted in the ideological apparatuses of the Serbian state.” To adequately transform Serbian society, its political and economic systems must be changed, she says. For her, that necessitates a class-based analysis which sees that workers in Serbia and Kosovo have common interests against the ruling capitalist elite in both countries. She believes the approach should be two-fold: Serbians should unconditionally recognize Kosovo’s right to self-determination, dismantle the myth of Kosovo as the “heart of Serbia”, and rebuild class politics and internationalism. On the other end, the working class in Kosovo should reject their own ruling elite and work to expel imperialist forces from its territory, she says. Whether such unity is possible, Lea and Arbër are split. “Considering the deep distrust that exists, and so much pain and lack of accountability, it is hard to imagine how that can be overcome. And we see with how Albanians are being treated in Serbia in 2026, the irredentist Kosovo graffiti and anti-Albanian chants, that nothing has changed. On our side there is a lot of what feels like insurmountable enmity as well. Due to how the war and our political situation shaped me, there’s a part of me that for a while now has been mentally preparing for another war. And that is what gives me urgency to get involved with this conversation” Lea revealed. For Arbër, working towards a common future begins with forging genuine connections across ethnic lines. “I’m a very hopeful individual. A part of my own practice in my life is all about forging relations with communities from supposedly “the other side.” This has been a core aspect of my life and my practice. I see it as righting historical wrongs and undoing the colonial violence that was imposed on Kosovo, and establishing relations with communities that we share so much with historically and culturally,” he said. In various contexts, history is presented as beginning at a politically convenient moment. In Palestine, Western mainstream media and political elites would have you believe history began on October 7, 2023. In Serbia, a similar establishment class claims history began on March 24, 1999, rendering what came before irrelevant. This approach weaponizes a lack of education to justify systemic prejudices that ultimately do not serve the interests of ordinary people. As the conversations in this piece suggest, confronting these narratives requires more than information alone. It demands a willingness to listen, to question inherited assumptions, and to engage with uncomfortable truths. The path towards lasting peace in the Balkans does not include selective memory, but is instead based on an honest, objective look at the past: one which makes space for all those whose experiences have long been denied.
Color Revolution between Protests and Media Narratives
How the term “color revolution” is misused in Serbian pro-government media to delegitimize student protests Author: Luka Murišić, PhD student of History at the University of Belgrade Railway station incident in Novi Sad deeply influenced public discourse in Serbia. Question of responsibility very quickly emerged as priority topic in media and allegations for corruption and non-transparent construction deals resulted in public outcry for prosecution of all officials responsible for death of sixteen people. Students’ protests which are still ongoing since December 2024 showed that government and politicians are not willing to respond on public calls and to fulfill demands. The media as a unique image of one society at a specific time reveals the dichotomy in reports and attitudes towards the protests and its participants. Some media related to government officials tended to report on protests in an unprofessional manner, followed by various etiquettes of political and historical connotations. This paper will try to shed light on one aspect of the negative presentation in issue of the usage of the term “colored revolution”. This research is based on news articles containing term “color revolution” and academic articles addressing the topic of protests at the end of the second and the beginning of the third millennium. Also, I used the articles from media outlets with critical attitude towards the policy of Serbian Progressive party. Sourced from https://protesti.pics What Exactly Is a “Color Revolution”? This particular question ought to reveal what is actually a “color revolution” and what is the meaning of the term. Understanding original meaning and insight in academic papers dealing with various examples of civic protests is essential for analysis and this article in general. Political and social changes in former socialist countries produced various consequences, where one of them is political instability. Collapse of Soviet Union and socialist regimes did not mean immediate democratization of state apparatus and society in general but left enough space for rise of authoritarian and semi-authoritarian regimes. Democratization therefore was not an instant outcome of the processes at the end of the twentieth and at the beginning of the twenty-first century. Change of governments, followed by elections and non-violent protests which aim was a democratization of society are called “color revolutions”. Peculiar name does not refer to their outcome, but to the symbol or color protesters had used. As different articles show, the most referred examples of these “revolutions” are from Serbia (2000), Georgia (2003) and Ukraine (2004, 2014). Mentioned term also comprises events in other cases such as Slovakia (1998), Kyrgyzstan (2005) and unsuccessful examples in cases of Russia and Belarus. Key characteristic in all mentioned cases is a non-violent protests. Semi-authoritarian and authoritarian regimes, in which elections are marked with various scandals and breachment of laws, create setting for the adoption of “electoral model” of protests, where citizens tend to defend their victory on elections and protect the voting results. Nonetheless, this model is often seen as appropriate due to its non-violent character. However, the studies reveal that “revolutions” are not happening following the identical pattern, neither they must be successful. Various cases show that success of the protests lies in multiple factors which, even though they are similar in all cases, are not key for accomplishment. Factors such as unity of oppositional parties, massive and non-violent protests, participation of youth movements and elections may not be decisive. Scholars and protest experience emphasize the importance of country’s economic situation, its position in international relations, government reliance on coercion apparatus as equally important for outcome of the protests. Examples from Serbia, Ukraine and Georgia clearly show the importance of the mentioned factors. While in Serbian case difficult economic situation and losses in war campaigns gave impetus for protests, in case of Ukraine’s Orange revolution (2004) and Revolution of Dignity (2014) war and economic situation were not relevant factors. Still, the Georgian and Serbian case stress the importance of country's relations to its neighbors and attitude of important police and security officials towards the current government. Demonstrations against Shevardnadze and Milošević more relied on mass mobilization of citizens and united political opposition with common leader, while in Ukrainian examples the same cannot be confirmed. However, three cases have similarities regarding the participation of youth movements, financial and logistical support for protesters and civil society organizations, and the role of oppositional, independent media. Moreover, it is evident that protesters from different countries used similar methods, keeping in mind that they were empirically proven to be successful, and activists and organizations maintained their mutual international connections. Photo by Jana Krstic, editorial board of Balkan Talks How the Term “Color Revolution” Is Used in Serbian Media Various newspapers and media outlets took part in the media campaign of labelling the students as “foreign mercenaries” and their struggle as “colored revolution”, but despite that, it must be examined how media used the mentioned term and what eventually they wanted to emphasize. Moreover, it is important to see how pro-government politicians understand the term “colored revolution” and on what they are alluding to while using the term. For this purpose, I analyzed 64 news articles from two daily online newspapers with pro-government stances, Večernje Novosti and Kurir. Used articles can be found under tag “obojena revolucija” and they are posted in period between January to May 2025. In all of them, “color revolution” is mentioned in either title or text itself. The articles show that term is mentioned at least once, very often can be seen only in headlines. Government politicians, including most notable ones such as president, prime minister and ministers used this term to describe the events on the streets. Their statements are marked with a call for attention, in which they tend to label protests as something dangerous and destructive. The development of a specific attitude towards the “color revolution” during a period of time can be traced. During the selected period, the attitude in statements varied from acknowledging potential threat to expression of victory. Both statements could be seen during the same month or short time period. Moreover, statements about “color revolution” also come from foreign politicians and state officials. The given statements are different depending on the actual real-time context. Politicians insist in statements that every big gathering of citizens is an attempt of color revolution and consequently that it will not bring any change. That was the case with protest on 15th of March which was labeled as the attempt of “color revolution”. Articles from this period show some typical notions in the regime’s attitude towards the mentioned term. For government representatives, the color revolution is always sponsored by external factors, acting through non-governmental organizations such as USAID or NED. External factors finance the oppositional parties and non-governmental organizations, and sponsor professional media. Protests follow clear patterns which are practiced in countries where protests have already taken place. Methods of civil disobedience are trained with the assistance of civil society organizations, who are seen as elements of foreign influence. “Revolution”, as we can conclude from statements, cannot bring any positive change. Revolution has a negative connotation and directly implies negative consequences such as poverty, instability and loss of national sovereignty on society and state in general. Statements show that “color revolutions” lead countries into poverty and destabilization. The rhetorics of government officials often tends to picture protests as backlash to development of Serbian economy and society in general. For them, the only consequence of “revolution” is “weak Serbia on its knees”. Students and citizens therefore are being manipulated and tricked while taking part in the destruction of their country. The revolution implies the usage of violence. In particular, the relation between protests in Eastern Europe and the whole government narrative of “color revolutions” can be followed. As something completely negative, the same can be related for Orange revolution and Revolution of Dignity which happened in Ukraine. Through the lens of these articles, there is a monolithic, black-white image of these events. They are externally supported, they had only negative consequences on Ukraine, they were represented as unwanted scenario of the protests. Ukraine is seen as geopolitical playground and unstable country. Also, these events represent a pattern for protests which will be used in Serbian case. The Political Context in Serbia Protests are inseparable from the social and political context in which they took place. Context is marked with the rule of Serbian Progressive party and its impacts on Serbian society in general. The canopy disaster was a strong impetus for protests and wider expression of popular dissatisfaction with the regime. Experts and analysts very often refer to Serbia as stabilitocracy, where the country and society lay somewhere in between democracy and autocracy, and European Union and Russia. Specific political background is shaped by clientelism, suspension of ordinary politics, undermined system of separation of power, and permanent campaign mode of ruling party. The past decade since 2012 was marked with democratic backsliding which severely impacted professional journalism and media rights. Moreover, various individuals who criticized the politics of government and Serbian Progressive Party have been object of media campaign of disinformation and abuse. The rule of Serbian Progressive party was also marked with historical revisionism used for propaganda purposes. Regime officials and intellectuals tended to promote revised, black-white image of the past, especially of the twentieth century. Sourced from https://protesti.pics Media Spin and Delegitimization of Student Protests In context of protests, pro-government media developed various media spins in their reports on students’ protests. Journalists already identified more than ten different media spins used to put off responsibility from the government for railway station disaster and to legitimize their media campaign against protests. Having that in mind, it is not unusual to see that students’ protests are followed with accusations from pro-government media of ongoing “colored revolution”. News outlets and media in general became instruments of political struggle for power and repression. The mentioned term is used to discredit the students and civil protests, but also to drive other citizens away from protests and therefore to suppress any kind of dissonant voice. Ultimately, the idea of ongoing “color revolution” is nothing more than a product from pro-government media, who are prone to lead negative media campaigns against any political actor who seems oppositional. News articles referring to the “colored revolution” including statements of politicians and analysts reveal how members of the ruling party perceive civic protests in general and how the term itself reflects peculiar moral and ideological values. Labeled as threat, “revolution” is seen as negative, moreover, the statements reveal that “revolution” is an attack on personality of the president and in general an attack on the Serbian country and nation. Consequently, the politicians from regime have moral obligation to protect Serbia by suppressing the dissonant voices. The protests are nothing more than expression for need for power, while demands represent paravane. For regime which legitimacy is being questioned, the popular voice of dissent is expected to be named as “color revolution”. As it was explained earlier, this accusation is an attempt to regain support and evade responsibility for corruption. Is the Threat Real? Mass protests led by students cannot be understood as “color revolution” at all. Their length (the protests began in December 2024, and they are still ongoing), student’s call for parliamentary elections and mass gatherings in combination with small protests around Serbia very clearly stand out from all protests who can be described as “revolution”. Even the initial four demands are something different from the events which happened in Ukraine and Georgia. Also, the whole political setting in Serbia is different from the circumstances which have led to fall of Milošević in 2000. While there is a non-democratic regime, there is no united political opposition in the country and no common candidate to replace the current regime. Political parties are fragmented on a series of questions, where one of which is support and attitude for student protests. Simultaneously, the students are declining any offer for cooperation with political parties, at the same time introducing local assemblies (zborovi) as a new method of social organization. Ultimately, it is debatable whether there is any international support for protests. While Russian politicians perceive the protests in the same manner as the government, European officials, even though acknowledging the civic need for effective institutions and rule of law in Serbia, remain reluctant to openly place on either of two sides and therefore still give recognition to the current regime. Conclusion: A Manufactured Narrative To conclude, narrative on the ongoing “color revolution” is part of the regime’s media campaign to discredit the protests and preserve its status while pointing to the danger of the national interests. The mentioned term is used to create false narratives about protests and to completely discredit the students. Media reports filled with historical connotations also must provide moral and historical legitimacy for government’s actions. At the same time, students and young people are represented as manipulated and instrumentalized. Articles show that examples from recent Ukrainian history - Orange revolution (2004) and Revolution of Dignity (2014) are used as scarecrow to mobilize citizens against ongoing protests and discredit the leaders of oppositional parties and students. In that sense, colored revolution, no matter when and where it happened, is seen as danger for any country and society and brings violent change of government, infiltration of foreign elements and their intelligence activity and ultimately the collapse of society. Protests are always followed with activities of foreign intelligence services, which represent one-sided narrative on complex historical events. At the same time, students were labeled and connected with historical figures and events which have negative connotation in revised history of the twentieth century in Serbia. The diversity of politicians and public figures whose statements about ongoing revolution are used in research must provide a sense of genuity and warn public opinion on potential threats.
Stories
Textbooks of Power: Who Gets to Write the Nation?
Članak možeš pročitati na srpskom jeziku ovde. What happens when the state decides what history should look like? And what kind of future does that produce? Illustration photo. Retrieved from Pexels (www.pexels.com) In recent months, debates around new textbook policies have once again opened an old and uncomfortable question: who controls knowledge, and with what purpose? While presented as administrative or educational reforms, these policies are rarely neutral. They often signal something deeper: an attempt to reshape collective memory and identity, and ultimately, the political imagination of a society. At first glance, centralized control over textbooks might seem like a matter of efficiency or quality assurance. Governments argue that a unified narrative ensures coherence in education systems. But history teaches us to be cautious. When states monopolize the production of knowledge, education stops being a space for critical thinking and becomes a tool for ideological reproduction. And this is not a new phenomenon. What Does History Teach Us? Throughout the 20th century, authoritarian and nationalist regimes have repeatedly turned to education as a means of consolidating power. In Nazi Germany, textbooks were systematically rewritten to promote racial ideology and justify expansionist politics. Similarly, in the Soviet Union, historical narratives were continuously revised to align with the ruling party’s shifting political line, often erasing inconvenient truths and individuals from public memory. In both cases, education was not about learning, it was about obedience. Closer to our own time, we see similar patterns emerging in parts of Europe. One of the most relevant contemporary examples is Hungary. Over the past decade, the Hungarian government has introduced increasingly centralized control over educational content, including the nationalization of textbook publishing. New curricula have emphasized nationalist interpretations of history, reduced space for critical perspectives, and promoted a homogeneous vision of identity. The consequences are not abstract. Researchers, educators, and civil society organizations have pointed out that these changes contribute to the normalization of exclusionary narratives. Historical complexity is flattened. Minority perspectives are marginalized or erased. And perhaps most concerningly, young people are socialized into seeing the world through a lens of “us versus them.” Education, in this context, becomes a subtle but powerful vehicle for producing distrust, resentment, and even hostility toward others. Why the Debate on Textbooks Is Never Just About Textbooks? In societies with fragile democratic institutions, control over education can easily become control over thought. When only one version of history is allowed, critical engagement is replaced by passive acceptance. Students are not encouraged to ask questions, they are taught what to think. And once that happens, the very foundation of democratic culture begins to erode. The Western Balkans, with its complex histories and unresolved tensions, is particularly vulnerable to such dynamics. We know from experience how competing national narratives can fuel division and conflict. Precisely because of this, education should be the space where multiple perspectives are explored, where difficult questions are asked, and where empathy is cultivated. Introducing tightly controlled, state-approved textbooks that privilege a single narrative risks undoing these efforts. It risks reproducing the very patterns that have historically led to exclusion, polarization, and violence. Is There an Alternative? The recent introduction of so-called “nationally significant textbooks” in Serbia has sparked serious concern among educators, researchers, and civil society organizations. Among them, the Critical Education Centre (CKO) has submitted a set of formal objections during the public consultation process — objections that were ultimately not accepted. This is not just a procedural issue. It is a political one. What is the problem? At the core of the reform is a simple but dangerous idea: that certain school subjects, especially language, history, and arts and culture, should serve the purpose of strengthening national identity and cohesion. This idea is veery troubling as a concept, but even more so in practice. CKO, in its official submission, warned that this approach represents a “securitization of education”, a shift in which textbooks are no longer treated as pedagogical tools, but as instruments of national policy. This framing matters, because once education becomes tied to “national security,” it becomes much harder to question it. Criticism is no longer seen as part of democratic debate, but as a (national) threat. What CKO is Warning About? CKO’s objections go beyond general concerns. They point to very concrete risks embedded in the law itself: Political control over knowledge productionBy privileging “national interest” as a criterion, the law opens space for selecting authors based on ideological alignment rather than academic quality. Erasure of plural perspectivesIn subjects like history and culture, a single “official” narrative risks excluding minority voices and alternative interpretations. Weakening of democratic procedureThe fact that objections submitted during public consultation were not meaningfully incorporated raises serious questions about transparency and participation. These are not abstract fears. They are grounded in both historical experience and contemporary research. Education or indoctrination? The key question is not whether national identity should be part of education. It always is, in some form. The real question is: who defines this identity, and whose voices are excluded in the process? CKO’s intervention reminds us that education policy is never neutral. It reflects political choices and those choices shape future generations. Ignoring expert and civil society input is not just bad governance. It is a warning sign. Because once education becomes a closed system, controlled from the top, it stops producing critical citizens — and starts producing obedient ones. You can read the full set of comments submitted by CKO here.You can read the paper published by CKO researchers on the risks of this law here.
Discursive Veto. How Kosovo and Historical Narratives Enable Serbia to Maneuver Between East and West?
Author: Daria Vorobiova Serbia in the modern geopolitical situation is perceived as a country caught between two fires: the West and the East. Its indicative neutrality, not associating itself with any global organization and acting as a "third party," is telling. In reality, this political ambivalence has calculated mechanisms used by statesmen to preserve their political position and policy of "securing funding without additional obligations," while in return manipulating public opinion. Illustration photo. Retrieved from Pexels (www.pexels.com) Neither to the West, nor to the East Looking at survey results on the political preferences of Serbs reveals a deeply divided population: for instance, a telling example is the 2023 WFD survey. It showed that 43% of Serbs believe they should rely on Russia in international relations, and only 25.8% of respondents stated they should rely on the European Union. Also notable is the question of whether Serbia belongs to the West or the East: 42% of respondents answered that Serbia is not part of either, while the same proportion answered logically about belonging to the West or the East. Serbian society is extremely fragmented in its political preferences: this problem leads to a general instability of civic engagement in politics, as without consensus among the sides, it is impossible to exert strong civic influence on the political life of the state as a whole [1]. How much does the state influence the political preferences of Serbs? Following data from the same survey, it is evident that 59.2% of respondents note that they view political information about events in Serbia through television. The state exerts sufficient influence on television, considering channels like RTS, RTV Pink, Happy TV, which are known for publishing information deliberately portrayed in a light favorable to the state. Under such conditions, the question arises – if a large number of citizens receive such information, can their political preferences be genuinely logical and justified? [2] Also, television programs have been observed deliberately portraying the EU in a bad light, while Russia is presented in the moral image of a fraternal state. The key problem with this presentation of information is the excessive moralization of "good" Russia and "bad" European Union. Typically, this moral assessment is based solely on subjectivity, in no way appealing to rational reflections on the benefits of such "friendship" for Serbia [3]. And it is precisely the "moral" justification, as well as the "moral boundaries of the permissible," that allow Serbian politicians to maintain their position for as long as possible, instilling in citizens an unstable pluralism of opinions to weaken their civic stance. The problem of "moralizing" politics as a key factor of ambivalence This appeal to everything moral begins with historical origins and serves as the foundation for forming nationalist narratives. The narratives consist of three components: the "victim question," the "pride question," and the main unifying factor, the moral discursive veto point. By combining these components, it becomes possible to manipulate public opinion, set the boundaries of discourse to slow down potential civic activity, and at the necessary moment say: "here is the boundary you must not cross." The "victim question" is characterized by a moral appeal to grievance, primarily towards the West, which in the narratives is viewed as a military aggressor (following the events of 1999) protecting Kosovo (which is a sacred question of the origin of statehood), and also as an economic usurper (the European Union as an economic organization where, upon accession, Serbia would lose its informal independence). An image of an enemy is created, but also an image of a savior, a potential "fraternal state" that can selflessly help Serbia escape crude dependence on the "humiliating" West. Russia occupies this role, but in the case of investments and their positive influence, China can also be considered. The "pride question" is characterized by a centuries-long history of battles (for example, the Battle of Kosovo) and the preservation of the nation and its culture during long periods of statelessness. This factor is supposed to act as a unifying force ("we have only ourselves, and no one will help us except us") and one that reduces the factor of destabilization, since there are "enemies" against which Serbia must be ready to act as a united front in case of danger. The unifying factor is the Kosovo question – less as a territorial issue and more as a discursive veto point: it marks the limit beyond which reform, recognition, or alignment becomes politically illegible. Since many reforms for EU accession and funding require normalization of relations with Kosovo and its recognition as a separate state, Serbian politicians (for example, Aleksandar Vučić) support the aforementioned narratives precisely on this issue. A. Vučić's speech on 04.11.2025 in Brussels: «Neću da priznam Kosovo da bismo ušli u EU» ("I will not recognize Kosovo so that we enter the EU") [4]; In an address to the people of Kosovo: «ne postoji „dobro rešenje kosovskog problema za Srbe“ i da ga nikada neće biti» ("there is no 'good solution to the Kosovo problem for Serbs' and there never will be"), «Srbi bili najstradalniji narod na Kosovu» ("Serbs were the most suffering people in Kosovo") [5]; speech at the Palace of Serbia: «Vučić je rekao da je Kosovo (...) našom zemljom u skladu sa Ustavom Republike Srbije i Poveljom Ujedinjenih nacija i Rezolucijom 12.44» ("Vučić said that Kosovo (...) is our land in accordance with the Constitution of the Republic of Serbia and the Charter of the United Nations and Resolution 1244") [6]. These three factors help form a stable national narrative, which allows simultaneously maintaining the image of the EU as an "enemy" while preserving active economic relations. Naturally, it is assumed that when using this funding as outlined in the documentation, Serbia should join the European Union after meeting all conditions. Is such a policy feasible? Active neutrality Serbia's neutrality is not an absence of policy but its active form, maintained by state elites through media propaganda, fragmenting Serbian society and helping to brake at the right moments and shift the blame to the "enemy," not to Serbia. The European Commission has noted that Serbia is moving too slowly in implementing necessary reforms, especially those related to freedom of speech, eliminating corruption, and normalizing relations with Kosovo [7]. The question of slowness also became important in cases where the EU itself delayed necessary payments to Serbia, demanding additional guarantees that the funds would be spent in the intended direction [8]. Such neutrality helps Serbian political elites navigate relations with the European Union: maintaining the possibility of obtaining economic and political resources while keeping a political distance from it, simultaneously shifting responsibility for the stagnation of reforms onto "enemies" and unsolvable historical traumas inflicted by these same "enemies." The price of this strategy is the weakness of fragmented civic pressure, the slowdown of necessary reforms, and the dependence of the political course on a constantly perpetuated conflict that does not approach resolution if Serbia truly chooses a European path. In this context, the key question is not which side Serbia will join in the future, but how long civil society can exist in a state-managed ambivalence, how long it can survive without the reforms it tries to grasp through protests. Bibliography: “Opinion Poll Report: Socio-political Views of Serbian Citizens in 2023.” WFD. Westminster Foundation for Democracy (WFD), Serbia, 2023. https://www.wfd.org/sites/default/files/2023-04/wfd_nws_2023_eng_final.pdf. “Defunding Disinformation in the Balkans. How International Brands Support Russia’s Agenda.” by BFMI & CRTA, n.d. https://crta.rs/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/CRTA_BFMI_Defunding_Disinformation_in_the_Balkans_Report.pdf. “Media Monitoring of Foreign Actors.” CRTA. https://crta.rs/en/media-monitoring-of-foreign-actors-november-2024/. B92. “Vučić: Neću Da Priznam Kosovo Da Bismo Ušli U EU; Postoji Mogućnost Da Otvorimo Klaster 3 Pre Kraja Godine.” B92.net, November 4, 2025. https://www.b92.net/info/politika/178701/vucic-necu-da-priznam-kosovo-da-bismo-usli-u-eu-postoji-mogucnost-da-otvorimo-klaster-3-pre-kraja-godine/vest РТС. “Vučić Za Veltvohe: Potrebno Kompromisno Rešenje Za KiM, a Ne Da Albanci Dobiju Sve, a Srbi Ništa,” n.d. https://www.rts.rs/lat/vesti/politika/5462184/vucic-za-veltvohe-potrebno-kompromisno-resenje-za-kim-a-ne-da-albanci-dobiju-sve-a-srbi-nista.html. Urednik. “Vučić Odgovorio Evropskom Diplomati: Kosovo Je Dio Srbije - Top Portal.” Top Portal, November 6, 2025. https://topportal.info/vucic-odgovorio-evropskom-diplomati-kosovo-je-dio-srbije/. Belgrade, N1. “EC Report Says Serbia Slow on Credible Reforms.” N1 Info RS, November 4, 2025. https://n1info.rs/english/news/ec-report-says-serbia-slow-on-credible-reforms/. Rakic, Snezana. “Why Is Serbia Still Waiting for EU Funds That Its Neighbours Have Received?” Serbian Monitor, May 23, 2025. https://www.serbianmonitor.com/en/why-is-serbia-still-waiting-for-eu-funds-that-its-neighbours-have-received/.
Functioning Is Not the Same as Being Well
Author: Stamena Kozić, a high school student from Serbia In the Balkans, mental health is often recognized only when it reaches an extreme. As long as a person continues to function-attending school, going to work, fulfilling responsibilities-this is treated as proof of stability. Functioning becomes evidence that everything is "fine", even when it's not. As a result, struggles such as anxiety, depression and burnout are rarely seen as legitimate unless they interfere with productivity. The ability to keep going is praised, while the cost of doing so remains invisible. Illustration photo. Retrieved from Pexels (www.pexels.com) However, data tells a different story. Research conducted in Serbia alone shows that approximately one-third of the population can be considered psychologically vulnerable. Around 15.6% of people report symptoms of depression, 7.2% experience symptoms of anxiety, and 1.6% are at high risk of suicide. These numbers exist alongside everyday functioning, challenging the idea that productivity equals well-being. Mental health in Balkan schools In the Balkans, seeing a psychologist is still not normalized within the school system and is often perceived as a last resort rather than a form of prevention or care. Students are typically referred to school psychologists only after being labeled as “problematic,” when their difficulties become visible through academic failure, behavioral issues, or a noticeable decline in productivity. These markers are treated as the primary indicators of distress, while emotional suffering does not necessarily disrupt performance and remains largely unaddressed. Well-performing students—those who maintain good grades, attend classes regularly, and meet institutional expectations—are rarely checked on or encouraged to seek support. This creates an environment in which psychological help is associated with dysfunction and punishment rather than well-being. As a result, schools unintentionally reinforce the idea that as long as a student continues to function, there is no need for help, even if that functioning comes at the cost of mental and emotional health. This mindset is especially dangerous because many mental health conditions do not immediately disrupt outward functioning. Disorders such as eating disorders often operate within this logic of "not being sick enough." Individuals may continue to perform well academically or socially, leading both themselves and others to believe there is no reason to seek help. This delay in recognition frequently allows the condition to worsen, increasing both psychological and physical risks. In extreme cases, the consequences of untreated mental illness can be fatal—underscoring the cost of a system that equates visible dysfunction with the legitimacy of suffering. Why Mental Health Remains a Taboo in the Balkans? Mental health continues to be a taboo in the Balkans largely because the region's recent history has been defined by survival rather than stability. Wars, political transitions, and prolonged economic insecurity have shaped societies in which endurance is valued more than emotional openness. In such environments, psychological distress was often viewed as luxury concern, something secondary to immediate survival. As a result suffering became normalized as an expected part of life, rather than recognized as a condition that deserves care and attention. Stigma surrounding professional mental health support further reinforces this mindset. Therapy and psychiatric care are frequently associated with severe illness or social failure, rather than prevention or self-understanding. As the aforementioned research shows, many people seek help only when their condition becomes unmanageable, if they seek it at all. This is compounded by structural barriers: mental health services across the region remain underfunded, unevenly distributed, and difficult to access, particularly for young people. Long waiting times, limited school-based support, and high costs in private care discourage early intervention. Over time, emotional restraint has been learned and passed down across generations. Parents and grandparents who endured hardship without psychological support often model silence as resilience. Phrases such as "others have it worse" or "you'll get over it" are commonly used, unintentionally minimizing emotional pain. Together, historical trauma, stigma, and systemic limitations have created a culture in which mental health struggles are only acknowledged when they become impossible to ignore- maintaining the same pattern of recognition through crisis rather than care. How Mental Health Is Approached in Other Countries? In many countries outside the Balkans, mental health is increasingly treated as an integral part of public conversation rather than a private issue. Discussions about anxiety, depression, and burnout are more visible in media, education, and policy, helping reduce sigma around seeking support. Asking for professional help is often framed as an act of responsibility and self-awareness, not weakness. Mental health education is frequently incorporated into school curricula, teaching students to recognize emotional distress early and encouraging them to seek help before problems escalate. Therapy is widely normalized, with school counselors and mental health professionals positioned as preventive resources rather than emergency responses. This emphasis on prevention- addressing mental health before it reaches a crisis point—stands in sharp contrast to systems that acknowledge psychological distress only after functioning begins to fall. How Can We Begin to Change This? Redefining strength is the first step: true resilience is not just endurance or silence, but the courage to acknowledge vulnerability and seek help when needed. Creating spaces for honest conversations—at home, in schools, and in public lifecan gradually break the stigma that has persisted for generations.
Falling Into the Underground: How Niš Youth Reclaims Culture Through Rebellion
While official cultural institutions in Serbia remain trapped in bureaucracy and underfunding, something else is growing beneath the surface — fragile, improvised, but stubbornly alive. In Niš, the country’s third-largest city, a generation of young artists and musicians is carving out its own spaces, reshaping culture beyond state control. Their most visible experiment is Underground, a music and art festival that, in just three years, has become a focal point for what many now call the “new new wave” of Niš rock and alternative culture. Photo by Strahinja Jovanovic From 2 to 5 October this year, Underground will take over the Niš Cultural Centre with twenty bands across four nights, ranging from punk and stoner rock to synth-pop. The program is eclectic but coherent, rooted in the belief that independent music is not just entertainment but a political gesture. The festival’s history reflects this stance: its first edition in 2023 was put together in just two weeks, without institutional support, sustained purely by community energy. Since then, it has grown — with compilations, benefit events, and a steadily expanding audience — while remaining true to its DIY roots. But what sets Underground apart is not only the sound. It is the image — quite literally. Each year, the festival develops a distinctive visual language designed by young artist Jelena Perić, who has become one of its central creative forces. Her posters are not promotional tools in the traditional sense; they are manifestos. “The visuals change every year, but I try to keep a recognisable identity — something people immediately associate with Underground,” Perić says. “It’s about reflecting the energy of the city and the scene into the artwork.” This year’s design depicts a young person in freefall. It is an unsettling but also strangely liberating image. For Perić, the fall is not about defeat. “It’s about descending into our underground — into a space of honesty, community, and resistance,” she explains. The poster overturns the usual meaning of falling: what might seem like a collapse becomes a deliberate choice to abandon the surface world of stagnation and enter a deeper, truer dimension. Underground poster The aesthetics carry unmistakable political undertones. Serbia’s cultural sector has been systematically neglected: for years, less than one percent of the national budget has been allocated to culture, leaving independent initiatives with little chance of survival. In this vacuum, the underground scene becomes more than a subculture — it is a necessity. The visual motif of falling into the underground crystallises that necessity: if official culture cannot sustain life, then life must create its own parallel ecosystem. The festival’s community-based financing reflects the same ethos. Underground relies on fundraising parties and donations, with local partners such as the Critical Education Centre providing support. This mode of survival is itself a form of critique — exposing the absence of public commitment to culture while demonstrating that art can thrive without state structures. “We don’t see Underground as a once-a-year event,” Perić notes. “It’s an ongoing process, a constant effort to hold space for something independent and real.” Jelena Perić, Underground promotion The atmosphere of rebellion also runs through the music. One of the most talked-about acts this year was Bunt — literally “Rebellion” — a young band that recently released Nisam sam (“I Am Not Alone”), a song inspired by student protests and blockades. Their presence on the festival stage directly links Underground to the wider social climate, where young people have turned cultural spaces like Belgrade’s Student Cultural Centre (SKC) into arenas of political and artistic expression. In such moments, art and activism cease to exist as separate spheres: a concert becomes a protest, and a poster becomes a call to action. Underground is therefore not merely a festival but a living archive of the struggles, hopes, and aesthetics of a generation. Its posters, music, and gatherings together form a counter-narrative to the dominant discourse that treats culture as expendable. The festival reveals that cultural production can still be a site of collective meaning, that rebellion can be joyful, and that falling into the underground is sometimes the only way to rise above the surface. To outsiders, Niš may not appear to be the capital of cultural innovation. Yet anyone who has witnessed a packed hall at Underground fest — where sound, image, and solidarity collide — understands that something more than a local festival is at stake. This is what culture looks like when it is reclaimed: messy, improvised, fragile, yet fiercely authentic! And in that authenticity lies its greatest strength.
The Green Extraction Illusion: Rio Tinto, Lithium, and the New Colonialism in Serbia
In recent years, the world has embraced a narrative of “green transition.” As the climate crisis accelerates, batteries and renewable technologies are widely promoted as a way out of fossil fuel dependency. Indeed, moving away from oil and gas is necessary and urgent. But the story of Rio Tinto’s planned lithium mining project in Serbia’s Jadar Valley shows that not every solution marketed as green is just, sustainable, or emancipatory. Source: https://protesti.pics/studenti The logic behind the project is straightforward: Europe wants to electrify transport, store renewable energy, and reduce emissions. Lithium, the essential component for batteries, is in high demand. Serbia, with one of the largest lithium deposits in Europe, has become a prime target for extraction. And Rio Tinto—an Anglo-Australian mining giant notorious for environmental and human rights scandals worldwide—is leading the charge. Yet, if we look more closely, this is not a break with the past. It is a continuation of the same colonial patterns that have governed the global economy for centuries: a wealthy industrial center exploiting a periphery, leaving behind toxic landscapes and broken communities. A Familiar Pattern: From Oil to Lithium While battery production is often framed as the opposite of oil—“clean,” “green,” “progressive”—the underlying dynamics are strikingly similar. During the petroleum boom of the 20th century, transnational corporations from richer states set up operations in poorer countries, promising prosperity. What they delivered was often environmental devastation, political corruption, and lasting social division. Today, lithium is marketed as a savior. But extraction projects like the Jadar mine threaten to poison rivers, destroy arable land, and displace communities, all in the name of sustainability. In reality, this is what the French authors Servigne and Stevens, in How Everything Can Collapse, describe as the “green growth illusion”—the idea that we can maintain endless consumption by simply swapping one resource for another. It is a convenient ideology that avoids the deeper reckoning with how overproduction and extractivism drive ecological collapse. Echoes of Bolivia: The Global Lithium Rush Serbia is not alone in this struggle. Bolivia’s experience shows how lithium extraction, if driven by foreign capital and export agendas, can reproduce dependency and injustice rather than build sovereignty or sustainability. In Bolivia, often called the “Saudi Arabia of lithium,” decades of neoliberal reforms and failed nationalization attempts have left the country struggling to secure fair terms for its own natural wealth. As Mašina reports, massive deposits in the Salar de Uyuni were meant to deliver prosperity to local communities. Instead, Bolivians have faced environmental damage, water depletion, and new forms of foreign dependence, despite initial promises of industrial development and ecological responsibility. This comparison matters because Serbia is being told the same story: that lithium will bring jobs, modernization, and geopolitical relevance. But if Bolivia teaches us anything, it is that “resource nationalism” without democratic participation and strong environmental protection is just another variant of extractive colonialism. Green Colonialism and Political Complicity Many students and activists in Serbia argue that Rio Tinto’s project is possible not despite Aleksandar Vučić’s autocratic rule, but because of it. Over the past year, students have protested corruption, attacks on independent institutions, and repeated violations of civil liberties. Yet the European Union has been largely silent. Why? According to many critics, it is because Brussels has a strategic interest in Serbia’s lithium deposits. For all its proclamations about democracy and rule of law, the EU is willing to look the other way when it comes to Vučić’s consolidation of power—so long as he remains a reliable supplier of raw materials. As one student protester put it: “The EU does not care about democracy if you can guarantee them cheap lithium.” This is precisely how colonial economies were justified in the past: sacrifice zones in less developed regions, a steady flow of raw materials to the industrial core, and local populations reduced to labor pools and collateral damage. The only novelty today is that the extraction is branded as “green.” What Future Are We Choosing? If climate collapse is the defining crisis of our time, it is vital that the solutions we pursue are not only technologically effective but also socially just. Extractive megaprojects imposed from above reproduce the same patterns that have already devastated ecosystems and disempowered communities. They deepen inequalities and accelerate the destruction of life-support systems in the name of “progress.” Rio Tinto’s project in Serbia is a case study in how the green transition can become a new front for exploitation, not an exit from it. To truly break with fossil fuel logics, we must reject both their material infrastructure and the ideological foundations that treat land and people as expendable. If Europe wants to build an energy transition worthy of the name, it must stop outsourcing environmental damage to the peripheries of the continent. It must support local self-determination, invest in circular economies, and abandon the dogma of endless growth that has led us to this brink. Anything less is not a solution—it is simply a new form of colonial extraction wearing a green mask.
Graffiti as a Battlefield: War, Memory, and Power on the Walls of Belgrade
We are thrilled to publish a new thought-provoking piece by Vladimir Petrović and Novak Vučo from the Innovation Center of the Institute for Contemporary History, University of Belgrade. Their article, “Belgrade Graffiti & Murals: Continuation of War by Other Means? – Traces of War in Yugoslavia and Ukraine in Belgrade Street Art: Reflections on Connections”, offers a gripping tour through Belgrade's streets, where right-wing nationalism, war nostalgia, and geopolitical tensions are fought out in paint, stencils, and slogans. From Ratko Mladić murals to the letter “Z” and graffiti wars over Kosovo and Ukraine — this text explores how political walls in Belgrade are covered in more than just paint, they’re layered with history, ideology, and unresolved conflict. The article has been positively peer-reviewed by Dr. Vjeran Pavlaković, one of the leading experts on graffiti, memory, and transitional justice in Southeast Europe. 👇 Download and read the full article in PDF: N.Vučo, V.Petrović - Belgrade Graffiti & MuralsDownload
