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

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

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

Manuel Férez, Alberto Hurtado University, Chile Between 2020 and 2025, the Balkan region experienced an unprecedented wave of civil mobilisations: environmental protests against lithium mining in Serbia, anti-corruption demonstrations in Bosnia, social unrest in Albania, and student movements in Montenegro. These mobilisations, however, remain virtually invisible in Latin American academia, media, and cultural institutions—despite striking parallels with recent Latin American protests such as Chile's 2019 social explosion, the 2021 demonstrations in Argentina and Colombia, and ongoing citizen mobilisations in Mexico.  Photo: Unsplash/Bree Anne This article examines this intellectual and artistic gap through a dual analysis of two leading Latin American journals (Foreign Affairs Latinoamérica and Letras Libres) and Balkan-related exhibitions in museums across Chile, Argentina, and Mexico. By exposing how Latin American public discourse reduces the Balkans to either a frozen narrative of 1990s trauma or a nostalgic account of successful immigration, this study proposes concrete pathways for establishing a South–South dialogue that recognises contemporary Balkan civil agency as a mirror for Latin America's own struggles for environmental justice and democratic resilience. The research project focuses on analysing how Latin American academia has processed, researched and reflected on civil society mobilisations in the Balkan countries, using Chile, Argentina and Mexico as case studies for accessibility reasons, and how it has presented the Balkans to the general public. Part One: an analysis of two widely circulated specialist journals in which Latin American academics publish Why analyze Foreign Affairs Latinoamérica and Letras Libres? Although other popular science magazines focusing on international affairs are available in Spanish, I have chosen Foreign Affairs Latinoamérica and Letras Libres due to their extensive circulation throughout Latin America and Spain. These academic journals are widely consulted and cited by Latin American students and academics working on international issues. They publish exceptional academic articles written by scholars from institutions across Latin America. Therefore, analyzing the content of these publications will help us understand perspectives, themes, and voices concerning the Balkans. Foreign Affairs Latinoamerica (FAL) This academic journal is the result of a collaboration between the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR) and the Instituto Tecnológico Autónomo de México (ITAM). Since its inception in 2000 as Foreign Affairs en Español, the journal has provided a platform for discussing significant international issues, with a particular focus on Latin America. It has established itself as a leading forum for Ibero-American perspectives on global affairs, encouraging diverse approaches and the highest standards of critical thinking. The journal is published every three months and has a circulation of 5,000 copies, which are distributed throughout Latin America, the United States, and Spain. Letras Libres (LL) Founded in 1999, Letras Libres is a monthly magazine of criticism and creation and the heir to the tradition and spirit of Vuelta, the magazine founded by Octavio Paz. With editions in Mexico and Spain, Letras Libres brings together leading thinkers to address urgent global issues, while offering readers samples of the finest prose and poetry. The Letras Libres website has evolved to offer a wide range of content, catering to diverse interests, voices, and forms of expression. FAL Published on 10 October 2022, the article The Balkans Facing Enigmas and Interventions was the only piece dedicated exclusively to the Balkans published by FAL. This article provides an overview of the political situation in the Balkans, with a particular focus on foreign interventions. The author, Mauricio D. Aceves, holds a degree in International Relations from the University of the Valley of Mexico (UVM), as well as a master’s degree in public security and public policy from the IEXE School of Public Policy. However, he does not cite any specialised bibliography on the Balkans, nor does he demonstrate any formal study of the region. The topics that included references to the Balkans can be grouped into the following categories: international order and international organisations; European issues (mainly elections and security matters); NATO; and the wars in Gaza and Ukraine. Additionally, there was one article dedicated to the Coronavirus and another to MERCOSUR that mentioned Balkan countries. In the category of international order and international organisations, notable articles included Requiem for 1991: From Hope to Global Uncertainty (9 December 2021), The Paradox of Funding a Refugee Crisis without Refugees (13 July 2020), Why International Organisations and Multilateralism Matter (29 November 2021), Diplomatic Saints (3 July 2023), Recent Log of (Illegal) Politics (12 January 2023), Towards a New Global Model of Security and Defence (28 March 2022) and Central Asia: The Path to International Order (27 April 2022). An analysis of the content of these articles reveals that the Balkans and the countries that comprise it were only mentioned in passing and as examples of dynamics related to the international order and/or the actions of international organisations. In another section entitled 'European Issues', articles were compiled addressing European issues that also mentioned the Balkans in some way. Cyprus at the Schengen Crossroads (24 July 2025) mentions the Balkans as an area that could be affected by Cyprus's political dynamics, while The 2024 European Elections (20 June 2024), The Security of the European Union (19 August 2020), Euroscepticism isn't shining, but it's not slowing down either (11 July 2024) and Eurovision 2025: Anxiety, Hatred and Resilience (29 May 2025) mention countries such as Bulgaria, North Macedonia and Serbia as part of the debate on the European defence system, the European Parliament elections and the growth of Euroscepticism among young Europeans. Initially, it was thought that it would be interesting to compare the media coverage of Gaza and Ukraine with that of the Balkans. However, throughout the entire analysed period, only three articles were found in Foreign Affairs that did so: Russia: A Challenge for the West' (11 May 2020), From Gaza to Kyiv (8 January 2024) and Ukraine and International Law (1 March 2022). The first article mentions the Balkans as one of the early challenges to the European order and its relationship with Russia. The other two articles focus on aspects of international law in Gaza and Ukraine, set against the backdrop of the history of the Balkans during and after the breakup of Yugoslavia. The other two articles focus on aspects of international law in Gaza and Ukraine, set against the backdrop of the history of the Balkans during and after the breakup of Yugoslavia. Three other general topics addressed or mentioned the Balkans. The first was NATO, with the article NATO's Role in the Conflict Between Russia and Ukraine (7 December 2022), which focuses on the conflict between Russia and Ukraine and mentions the Balkans as a historical reference for NATO's political and military action.  The Political Repercussions of the Coronavirus Pandemic Worldwide (13 May 2020) references Bulgaria and the impact of the virus in the country. Finally, Ratification of the Agreement between the European Union and Mercosur (22 January 2024) specifically mentions Macedonia in the context of the rapprochement between the European Union and Mercosur. LL - 16 articles Unlike the journal FAL, which focuses almost exclusively on the analysis of international conflicts and dynamics, LL adopted a more diverse approach to the Balkans, covering literature, culture, music and history. Two articles published before 2020 are included in LL's count. These articles offer expert perspectives on the Balkans and are therefore included. Five articles dedicated to the Balkans were found in LL (two of which were published before 2020), as well as a further 16 articles that indirectly addressed topics related to the Balkans with a different central theme. The two articles published before 2020 were I Don't Want Serbia to Be the Russian Gibraltar in the Balkans: Interview with Dragan Velikić (June 30, 2017) and The Balkans: Aftermath of War (March 31, 2002). The first article is an interview with Velikić, who expresses concern that Serbia will become a Russian Gibraltar. The second article, written by David Rieff, discusses his experience as a journalist during the siege of Sarajevo and the main forms of entertainment there (alcohol, tobacco, sex, and conversation). Three articles focused on the Balkans during the analyzed period: In The Political Thriller of Serbia (1991–2025), Javier González-Cotta discusses the history of Serbia as if it were a political thriller. The article describes the power struggles in the streets of Serbia and how they defined the social character of the Serbian people and influenced national audiovisual production. In A Manual for Killing Flies (March 19, 2025), Carlos Hortelano examines the work of Croatian writer Slavenka Drakulić. Drakulić was present in The Hague in 2003 to attend the trials following the Balkan Wars, and she captured her experience there in her book They Wouldn't Kill a Fly. In his July 3, 2024, publication, A Brief Dictionary of Kadare, Mauricio Montiel Figueiras discusses the work of Albanian writer Ismail Kadare. These three articles are noteworthy because they offer readers reflections on the works of Balkan authors and those of a journalist who was present during the Yugoslavian war. However, they do not address the current situation in the region. The 16 articles published in LL that mentioned the Balkans or countries within it were divided into two categories: culture (literature, visual arts) and political situation. Articles like A Journey Through Greece and Albania with a Child and a Reflection on the Ubiquity of War, Guided by Homer and Ismail Kadare by Iván Hurtado, y Zülfü Livaneli Revisits History in a Novel by Jean Meyer (August 1, 2025) in which he discusses Livaneli's book “Riding the Tiger”, which focuses on Ottoman Sultan Abdul Hamid II; and Precise Literary Mechanism by Gonzalo Gragera (April 28, 2022) in which he discusses the Spanish publication of “The Poisonous Mirrors”, a collection of unpublished stories by Serbian writer Milorad Pavic (1929–2009) exemplify Letras Libres' literary approach to the Balkans The second category of articles focuses on political issues. Authoritarians are winning the game. Interview with David Rieff by León Krauze (April 1, 2025); Doubling Down: A Western Strategy for Ukraine and Itself by various authors (March 7, 2025) and War, the epidemic we don't see coming by Daniel Delisau (July 1, 2024) are examples of articles published by LL that included the Balkans in contemporary topics such as the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the emergence of armed conflicts. In Populism Through the Looking Glass, Christopher Dominguez Michael (September 1, 2024) finds similarities between López Obrador's style of governing in Mexico and that of leaders such as Narendra Modi (India), Recep Tayyip Erdoğan (Turkey), and Viktor Orbán (Hungary), while Ibsen Martínez, in Petkoff, Bulgaria, and the Weapons of Algiers (August 1, 2024), reflects on Petkoff and his political transformations from a Latin American perspective. These two articles aim to find similarities and political affinities between countries such as Hungary and Bulgaria and Latin America. Special attention should be given to Branko Milanovic's articles published in LL. These articles were translated into Spanish because they had previously been published elsewhere. Milanovic, a regular contributor to LL, authorizes the magazine to publish Spanish versions of his contributions to other media outlets. Before the police arrive: bookstores on Saturdays (February 25, 2024); Democracy of Convenience, Not by Choice: Why Eastern Europe Is Different (February 1, 2022) and A Communist Party in a Turbulent Era and a Difficult Country (April 23, 2020) showcase Milanovic's reflections on topics ranging from the literature he read as a child in his home country to thoughts on the future of Eastern Europe and the adaptations of communism worldwide. Milanovic is a notable Balkan author whose columns are regularly published in LL. The Transformation of War Journalism (July 1, 2024), in which Marga Zambrana reflects on changes in the journalism industry dedicated to armed conflicts; Global Sepharad (October 1, 2021) by Ricardo Dudda, in which recounts the history of the Levy family, Balkan Jews, and their experiences at the beginning of the 20th century; The Maturity of Balkan Literature in Spanish (April 22, 2021) in which Miguel Roán discusses the increase in the number of books in Spanish published by authors from the Balkans; and Madrid-Pristina Connection: The Spanish Passion of the Kosovars (July 8, 2020) by Juan Manuel Montoro, who reflects on Spain's non-recognition of Kosovo's independence, complete the list of LL articles that address the Balkans to some extent. Analysis of the FAL and the LL Taken overall the two sources' primary similarity is their limited focus on contemporary events and the social, political, cultural, and economic dynamics of Balkan countries. Although LL, with its broader scope, included articles that addressed contemporary Balkan affairs to some extent, the lack of intellectual attention struck me given to current social trends in the Balkans by both sources. It should be noted that the Balkans are not a central theme for either publication. One possible reason for this marginal interest is the absence of Latin American specialists in the region and Balkan diaspora communities in Latin America.  Another similarity is the focus of the articles in both publications. A perspective on international relations and history takes precedence, with social issues relegated to a secondary role. While LL tries to showcase the region's cultural and artistic aspects, its political analyses tend to focus on Yugoslavia or the Balkan countries' relationships with the European Union, Russia, or the U.S. rather than on internal social tensions within each country. The limited attention that FAL pays to the Balkans, and to its constituent countries in particular, was surprising. Before this research, I had assumed I would find more articles on the subject, given that FAL is the Spanish-language magazine in Latin America that focuses the most on international issues. All of the authors in FAL are Latin American and come from academic fields including international relations, history, Latin American studies, international security studies, international law, and political science. The articles did not cite any specialized bibliography on the Balkans, and none of the authors appeared to have undertaken specialized studies on the region. Meanwhile, LL has the advantage of featuring Branko Milanovic, a Serbian-American economist from the Balkans who provides historical and economic insights on the region. Milanovic authored three articles in which Yugoslavia and its economic and political contradictions were central themes. Javier González-Cotta's article, The Political Thriller of Serbia (1991–2025) (June 2, 2025), was the only one to address the current social unrest in Serbia and its connection to cultural expressions, such as audiovisual production. The absence of academic references in the FAL articles, which offered general reflections on the political positions of Balkan countries, was notable. This lack of specialized academic literature was especially apparent in a journal that promotes academic thought and research, making it worth considering the reasons for this absence, which will be addressed in the second part of this research. LL's contribution to the cultural sphere was valuable and noteworthy. Two articles discussed the work of Croatian writer Slavenka Drakulić, and another examined Balkan literature translated into Spanish. These articles demonstrate that it is possible to publish content about the Balkans that engage readers and goes beyond topics related to international politics. LL frequently addressed topics such as Kosovo, the war in the former Yugoslavia, democratization processes, and the emergence of authoritarian leaders; in contrast, FAL tended to focus its publications on international issues, incorporating some mentions of the Balkans into these dynamics. _________________________________________________________________________ Part Two: The presence of the topic in museums in Chile, Argentina and Mexico Chile: Museum of Croatian Immigration in Magallanes (Punta Arenas): permanent exhibition exclusively on Croatian immigration (19(th)-20(th) centuries), emphasising their economic and social contributions to Patagonia. Regional Museum of Magallanes – secondary mention in the immigrants' hall. Argentina: Muntref Museum of Immigration (Buenos Aires): archival and bibliographic references to Croatian and Yugoslavian immigration. Mitre Museum: temporary exhibition “Serbia 1914: The Female Face of the Great War”. Mexico: Museum of Memory and Tolerance in Mexico City has a permanent exhibition called 'Former Yugoslavia', featuring maps, photographs of Sarajevo, and testimonies of the Bosnian genocide (1992–1995). Findings and analysis As with the publications of FAL and LL, museums present a rigid historical narrative that freezes the Balkans at two specific points in time: the early Balkanic (Croatian) immigration of the 19th and 20th centuries, and the Yugoslav wars of the 1990s.  This curatorial choice reflects both the lack of Latin American specialists in Balkan studies and the limited influence of the contemporary Balkan diaspora. While museums commemorating other tragedies often maintain educational programmes that connect the past with the present, the Balkans are reduced to static display cases. Consequently, the Latin American public is presented with a fossilised image of the region: either as a place of successful immigrants to Latin America or as a distant tragedy, but never as a living space of civic agency. The case of the Croatian diaspora in Chile is paradigmatic in understanding how the presence of an influential migrant community can paradoxically contribute to the 'freezing' of the image of its region of origin in the recipient's imagination.  According to Marinkovic Contreras's (2018) research, this community has historically exerted significant pressure and influence to secure state recognition and legitimise its national identity within Chile. This narrative of success and recognition, centred on integration and contribution to national development, is reflected in a regional museum exhibition which highlights the epic story of migration and the milestones of the 20th century.  However, by adopting the 'geographical perspective' defined by Kraser et al. (2016) as being rooted in the history of socio-spatial conflicts and fragmentation, these institutions reduce the complexity of Southeastern Europe to a static territory of origin. Consequently, while contemporary cultural production attempts to process traces of the post-war period up to the present day, public narratives in the Southern Cone and Mexico remain fixated on the nostalgia of migration or the trauma of the 1990s wars.  This phenomenon renders the political agency and civil mobilisations of the 2020–2025 period invisible, presenting the Balkans as a region whose history appears to have ended with the consolidation of its diaspora or the signing of international peace treaties. Latin American museums of memory, such as the Museum of Memory and Tolerance in Mexico and the Museum of Memory and Human Rights in Chile, operate according to a logic of 'trauma pedagogy'. While this is necessary, it ultimately freezes the region's image in the 1990s. In these spaces, the Balkans are almost exclusively presented through the lens of Yugoslav disintegration and mass human rights violations.  This institutional narrative reflects an academic trend that reduces the region to its historical and legal evolution. Interest in this trend is confined to analysing the legitimacy of external military interventions or the complex processes of international recognition of new entities, such as the Republic of Kosovo. This topic is present in both FAL and LL, but is approached from the perspective of international law and international relations.  As previously mentioned, by focusing their curatorial approach on ethnic conflict and the response of international organisations, these museums adopt a perspective centred on the socio-spatial dynamics of historical fragmentation, as described by several analysts. This results in a disconnect from the current reality in the Balkans: while recent intellectual and literary output processes the aftermath of the war up to 2023, the Latin American museographic discourse concludes with the genocide. Moreover, there is a clear chronological gap. While academia and comparative literature are already addressing the period 1990–2023, museography seems to have come to a standstill in 1995. This failure to keep up to date is largely a consequence of the shortage of local specialists mentioned in the previous section.  Without researchers to connect the history to the 2020–2025 protests, museums can only reproduce the traditional narrative of the conflict and the post-war period. Critical curation proposal To overcome this 'stagnation', we need to transition from 'curation of nostalgia' or 'curation of horror' to 'curation of resistance'. Although temporary exhibitions such as 'Serbia 1914' at the Mitre Museum demonstrate an attempt to broaden the perspective, they remain anchored to war-related anniversaries.  One alternative would be to organise exhibitions that link extractivism in the Balkans with socio-environmental conflicts in Latin America, thereby fostering a South–South dialogue. A concrete example is the mass protests in Serbia (2021–2024) against the “Jadar” lithium project by Rio Tinto. These protests were not just about the environment; they also denounced the lack of transparency and the influence of corporate interests on the state. This conflict reflects the same 'extractive imperative' that sparks waves of protests in Latin America, where local communities challenge mining projects in defence of water and territorial autonomy.  The protests against Rio Tinto in Serbia (2021–2022) achieved a historic victory by forcing the government to temporarily revoke the mining licences. This demonstrates that the protests were not just a ‘protest’, but an effective display of political action by citizens. This development bears a direct resemblance to the movements in Chile and Panama that succeeded in halting similar extractive projects. In both the Balkans and Latin America, the struggle is ecological and concerns sovereignty over resources in the face of transnational corporations – an aspect that has received little analysis or visibility to date.  The link between resistance movements in the Balkans and Latin America is evident in the context of lithium mining. While the debate in the Lithium Triangle centres on the global energy transition, the 'Kreni-Promeni' movement and the 'Ecological Uprising' in Serbia have demonstrated that civil mobilisation can directly challenge giants such as Rio Tinto. This has been achieved through street protests, resulting in the cancellation of projects. Latin American museums overlook this 'agency of victory' by focusing solely on past trauma and ignoring the fact that Balkan citizens are today at the forefront of defending their territory, just like socio-environmental movements in our region.  Museums could create a gallery on the 'Geopolitics of Dispossession', displaying posters from the Belgrade protests alongside records of struggles against mega-mining in Colombia or Panama. This would position the Balkans as a contemporary ally in environmental resistance. Another example is civil resilience in the face of authoritarianism. The 'Serbia Against Violence' movement (2023–2024) and protests against 'competitive authoritarian' regimes in the Western Balkans have given rise to forms of 'active citizenship' that aim to democratise institutions from the ground up. These developments are similar to the processes of democratic backsliding currently occurring in countries such as Mexico, Brazil, El Salvador and Nicaragua.  Memorial museums could showcase these 'shared struggles', challenging the perception of the Balkans as a 'failed state' and presenting them as a laboratory for democratic innovation instead. Demonstrating that these protests in both the Balkans and Latin America are not just directed against 'corruption' in general, but against systems where democratic institutions exist in name only yet are undermined by executive control of the media and judiciary, allows us to establish a shared analytical framework for both regions. This helps Latin American academics and museum specialists to view the Balkan conflict as a political phenomenon with which they are familiar, rather than as something 'ethnically alien'. Conclusion: Towards a Thaw in the Latin American Perspective on the Balkans The invisibility of Balkan civil protests (2020–2025) in Latin America's public and academic spheres is not accidental, but the consequence of dual hermeneutic closures—both academic and institutional. This study has demonstrated that Latin American discourse on the Balkans operates through two dominant yet limiting frameworks: an academic focus on historical and legal development, and a museographic approach that petrifies the region either in migratory nostalgia or the pedagogy of trauma. Both perspectives adopt a geographical outlook centred on fragmentation and static origins, thereby rendering contemporary political agency and mobilisations for environmental or anti-corruption causes invisible. The analysis of Foreign Affairs Latinoamérica and Letras Libres revealed a striking pattern: Balkan countries appear primarily as peripheral references in discussions of international order, European security, or historical conflicts, with minimal attention to current social dynamics. While Letras Libres offers valuable cultural contributions through literary and artistic coverage, neither journal engages systematically with the region's contemporary civil society. Similarly, museums in Chile, Argentina, and Mexico present a fossilised image of the Balkans—either as a place of successful immigrants or as a distant tragedy—never as a living space of civic agency. This chronological gap, where museography appears to have stalled in 1995 while Balkan intellectual production processes the post-war period up to the present, reflects a broader shortage of Latin American specialists in the region. To break this cycle, three concrete pathways are proposed: 1. Reform academic cooperation models: Expand existing Jean Monnet Chairs at leading Latin American universities beyond their traditional focus on EU–Mercosur trade relations to include specific modules on the Western Balkans. These modules should analyse 'bottom-up' democratisation processes and current citizen mobilisations, moving away from post-war paradigms. 2. Institutionalise specialised training: Establish regional summer schools on Balkan studies offering transferable academic credits to train a new generation of specialists in international relations, sociology, and geography. These programmes should prioritise contemporary social dynamics over historical conflict narratives. The establishment of regional summer schools specialising in Balkan studies is a structural response to the shortage of specialists identified in this study. The absence of Latin American academics specialising in the region is not due to a lack of interest, but rather a systemic failure to fund fields of study considered 'non-traditional' at universities in Chile, Mexico and Argentina. Postgraduate programmes in international relations and sociology tend to prioritise a focus on global powers or hemispheric regional integration, which leaves the Balkans on the intellectual periphery.  To break this cycle, summer schools should offer transferable academic credits that enable undergraduate and postgraduate students to specialise in the region while remaining in their home programmes. Furthermore, these programmes must incorporate direct engagement with activists, journalists, and academics from the Balkans to avoid the Eurocentric mediation that has dominated knowledge production about the region. By establishing South–South collaborative networks, these schools could train a new generation of researchers who would be able to analyse the Balkans not as a case study of ethnic conflicts or international interventions, but as a contemporary laboratory of civil resistance, democratic innovation, and the struggle for environmental justice — issues that resonate deeply with Latin American realities. 3. Transform curatorial practices: Develop temporary exhibitions in Latin American museums that offer perspectives on contemporary Balkan society and its similarities with Latin American struggles. Exhibitions such as a 'Geopolitics of Dispossession' gallery—linking Serbian protests against the Jadar lithium project with socio-environmental conflicts in Colombia or Panama—would foster South–South dialogue and position the Balkans as a contemporary ally in environmental resistance. Only through the institutionalisation of dedicated spaces for study and a curatorial approach that restores political agency to Balkan citizens will the region cease to be a 'grey area' on the Latin American intellectual map. The Balkans should become not merely a case study for international law or a repository of historical trauma, but a mirror in which Latin America can recognise its own struggles for environmental transparency, democratic resilience, and social justice. This thaw in perspective is not merely an academic exercise—it is a necessary step toward building genuine transregional solidarity in an era of shared global challenges. References (Soto, 2022). Análisis de la intervención militar efectuada por la Otan en Kosovo… [Tesis de pregrado, Universidad de Chile]. Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://repositorio.uchile.cl/handle/2250/186317 Bilić, J. B., Cúneo, P., & Franić, I. (2023). El croata como lengua de herencia en Argentina. Íkala, 28(1), 86–104. Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://www.redalyc.org/journal/2550/255076325006/html Foreign Affairs Latinoamérica. (s.f.). Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://revistafal.com Letras Libres. (s.f.). Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://letraslibres.com/  (Contreras, 2018). Croatas en Chile: presiones e influencias para el reconocimiento de un Estado [Tesis de magíster, Universidad de Chile]. Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://repositorio.uchile.cl/handle/2250/167835 Museo de la Inmigración Croata en Magallanes. (s.f.). Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://www.registromuseoschile.cl/663/w3-article-120369.html  Museo Memoria y Tolerancia. (s.f.). Ex Yugoslavia. Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://www.myt.org.mx/memoria/ex-yugoslavia  Museo Mitre. (s.f.). Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://museomitre.cultura.gob.ar Museo Regional de Magallanes. (s.f.). Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://www.museodemagallanes.gob.cl Muntref Museo de la Inmigración. (s.f.). Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://untref.edu.ar/muntref/es/museo-de-la-inmigracion (Gómez, 2012). El devenir histórico y legal de Kosovo. Anuario Mexicano de Derecho Internacional, 12, 65–106. Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://www.redalyc.org/articulo.oa?id=402740628003 (Cerda, 2024). Reconocimiento de la República de Kosovo… [Tesis de licenciatura, Colegio de San Luis]. Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://colsan.repositorioinstitucional.mx/jspui/handle/1013/1714

Author: Vilson Blloshmi           This paper advances a clear claim: successive emigration & youth emigration waves have  contributed to the increasing electoral support of Albania’s Socialist ruling party. The  mechanism runs through electorate composition (older at home), turnout depression in  youth-heavy areas, and selective mobilization of diaspora-origin voters. A key empirical  puzzle is why diaspora-origin voting appears to favour incumbents (~61%) despite exit  motives rooted in domestic shortcomings.   This study will examine how demographic change, especially youth emigration,  influences elections in Albania and why both resident voters and diaspora-origin voters  often support the ruling Socialist Party. Photo: pixabay/wal_172619 Context and Background   Albania’s age structure and migration balance have shifted markedly, while election  observation repeatedly flags barriers that disproportionately burden younger voters,  information gaps, procedural frictions, and low institutional trust. These trends intersect  with party organization and media environments to sustain large majorities alongside  uneven participation. Levitsky & Way use “competitive authoritarianism” to describe  regimes where formal democratic institutions exist and opposition can compete, but the  contest is systematically skewed because incumbents abuse state power, so elections are  real, yet not fully free and fair. Such regimes are competitive, in that democratic  institutions are not merely a façade: opposition parties use them to seriously contest for power; but they are authoritarian in that opposition forces are handicapped by a highly  uneven—and sometimes dangerous—playing field. Competition is thus real but unfair.1In their framework, the key test is an uneven playing field across major battles (elections,  media, and the state bureaucracy), where rules are applied selectively and public  resources are used to entrench the governing party.   Applied to Albania after the Socialist Party’s historic May 11, 2025 win (83/140 seats)  with 53.3% of the vote, the outcome alone doesn’t “prove” competitive authoritarianism  because landslides can happen in democracies too. But the conditions reported around the  election align with Levitsky & Way’s warning signs: international observers and major  outlets pointed to misuse of public resources, uneven media coverage, and allegations of  pressure and intimidation, all classic mechanisms that can keep elections competitive  while making them unfair.  OSCE&ODIHR stated that: The ruling party benefitted from  widespread use of administrative resources during the campaign, creating an undue  advantage of incumbency. There were also numerous allegations of pressure on voters,  especially public employees. Further, the electoral legislation and its narrow  interpretation by the election administration did not prevent abusive practices.2  So the strongest argument is that Albania shows competitive-authoritarian tendencies:  opposition parties exist and contest power, yet repeated dominant victories are reinforced  by a state environment where incumbents appear to enjoy structural advantages such as  resources, visibility or influence over institutions that weaken the possibility of genuine  alternation. If these patterns persist, especially around media pluralism, enforcement  against vote-buying and pressure, and institutional independence Levitsky & Way’s label  becomes more applicable, not because the opposition is banned, but because competition  remains meaningful while the field stays tilted.   Albanian Electoral System   The Parliament of the Republic of Albania consists of 140 members of parliament, who  are elected for a 4-year term. The electoral system for the Assembly is a proportional  representation system with multi-member electoral districts. For parliamentary elections,  each electoral district corresponds to the administrative-territorial division of the qark (county). The total number of electoral districts is 12, and the number of parliamentary  mandates per district ranges from 3 seats in Kukës County to 37 seats in Tirana County.  Local government elections are held to elect 61 mayors and 1,603 members of municipal  councils across the country. Mayors and municipal council members are directly elected  for a 4-year term.  For local elections, the electoral district corresponds to the administrative-territorial division of the municipality. Mayors are elected through a  majoritarian system, while municipal council members are elected through a proportional  system with closed lists. The number of municipal council seats in each municipality is  determined based on population and ranges from 15 to 61 mandates. Council mandates  are allocated among parties and coalitions using the d’Hondt method, while the  distribution of seats among parties within a coalition is done using the Saint-Lague  method.   Freedom of movement or running from a reality?   As of every time a government official, member of council of ministers, members of  parliament from the Socialist Party, or expert supporting the government argues why  Albanians are leaving the country at such massive and vast numbers they tend to reduce  the importance of such a topic. The Prime Minister Rama states several times that youth  emigration is a normal outcome of freedom of movement and individual choice, not a  national tragedy. He argues that people have the right to test life abroad, and that  portraying emigration as “the worst thing” is, in his view, an exaggerated political/media narrative.  He also claims emigration has brought benefits to Albania (skills, experience,  broader culture), and suggests the public debate becomes distorted because today  everything is amplified “online.” In meetings with young people, he doubles down on3 the idea that if someone believes there is no future in Albania, they should be free to try  leaving, but he insists that the “no future” claim is wrong, and that simple wage  comparisons ignore living costs abroad.  Rama argues that emigration should be treated 4 as a normal, long-running (“historical”) phenomenon tied to freedom of movement, and  says the public debate in Albania often turns into hyperbole rather than a calm discussion  based on facts.Rama even points to comparisons like 2017, when around 39,905 people  left Albania versus 50,000 from EU-member Croatia, to claim the narrative is often  exaggerated. From the other hand the emigration of youth and young people in the last5 decade are unimaginable. 1 milion Albanians have left the country during last 16 years according to Eurostat cited by Monitor.al6  From 2008 to 2024 about one million Albanian citizens received a first-time residence  permit in a European Union country, according to Eurostat data. This increase, from  around 97,780 permits in 2008 to nearly one million by 2024, shows a continuous and  accelerating wave of people leaving Albania for the EU. These emigrants now represent a  large share of the country’s working-age population, and the true number would be even  higher if Albanians who moved to non-EU destinations such as the United Kingdom, the  United States or Canada were also included. The figures point to a major demographic  shift that is slowly changing the profile of those who remain in the country.  Albania  showed the highest annual expatriation rate of nationals to OECD countries in 2023 (22  per 1 000 inhabitants). Romania (13), Bulgaria (12), Bosnia and Herzegovina (11) and  Cuba (11) were the other countries with two-digit figures. The reasons behind this trend 7 are linked to economic difficulties, limited job opportunities, high informality in the  labour market and the lack of long-term security for many young people. Family8 reunification and chances for better education also play an important role.  As emigration  becomes widespread, its effects on Albania’s social and political life are becoming more visible, including a shrinking workforce, loss of skilled professionals, an ageing  population and new electoral dynamics. The scale of the exodus shows that this is not  only a demographic issue but a deeper structural change with serious implications for the  country’s future.  Emigrant Share of Total Population, Albania second after Bulgaria with 41.9% and  projections show that the decline might go to 15.8% by the end of 2050.9  "Southeastern Europe is experiencing one of the sharpest depopulations in the world, led  by Bulgaria, whose population is projected to drop nearly one-quarter by 2050. The most  significant factor behind this trend is migration to Western Europe, which has remained  widespread since the post-communist and post-conflict transition periods of the 1990s  and 2000s. For example, half the total population in Bosnia and Herzegovina and 42  percent in Albania reside abroad, often in Western Europe."10  The demographic picture may be bleakest in Bulgaria, which is on course to face the  world’s highest single-country depopulation rate over the next 30 years, according to the  United Nations Population Division. Yet Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia,  Albania, and Romania are not far behind, each expecting declines of 15 percent or more  over the next three decades (see Projections). This phenomenon is occurring even as the  world’s population is expected to increase by 2 billion people, to 9.7 billion in 2050.11  Elections and turnout - is it a deadlock?   The Socialist Party won the general elections in coalition with another left wing party  "Socialist Movement for Integration on 2013 to never lose it up to date. After the first  term in coalition with SMI, on the 2017 elections and onwards the Socialist Party won  the elections and the majority in the Parliament as a sole party. In this section we will see  how the turnout percentages changed through years and if the voters taking part in the  general election declined or not.   Youth Voting trends   In Albania, the Youth Study points to a downward tendency in youth turnout. The share  of eligible young respondents who say they voted in the last parliamentary elections fell  from 76.8% in 2018 to 73.8% in 2024, while those who did not vote rose from 23.2% to  26.2%. The change is not dramatic, but it signals a clear direction: a gradual erosion of12 electoral participation among young Albanians, even as voting remains the most common  form of political involvement.   This decline looks even more significant when placed next to the broader engagement  profile. In other words, as youth turnout shows signs of slipping, there is not a strong  “backup” of other participation channels to compensate. The overall picture is of a  generation that is becoming more distant from politics beyond election day, which risks  turning a small drop in turnout today into deeper disengagement over time unless trust,  representation, and everyday relevance of politics improve.   General elections 25 april 2021   General elections of 2021 were held in a tense political climate as one person was  assassinated during the last days of electoral campaign The turnout resulted to be13 46.33%. The official turnout data from the 2021 Albanian general elections shows  significant variation across the twelve qarqe, with overall participation remaining  relatively low at the national level. Out of 3,588,869 registered voters, only 1,662,274  cast a ballot, producing a nationwide turnout of 46.33 percent. Female participation was  slightly lower, with 799,094 women voting out of 1,776,128 registered female voters, or  44.99 percent.   Tirana recorded the highest number of voters, with 484,769 people participating,  representing a turnout of 53.24 percent. Its female turnout rate was similarly strong at  52.01 percent. Dibër also stood above the national average with a participation rate of  52.68 percent, and women in this district voted at an even higher rate of 53.44 percent.  Other districts that approached or exceeded the 50 percent threshold include Kukës, with  49.25 percent turnout, and Korçë, which reached 46.14 percent.  By contrast, several regions displayed markedly lower participation. Vlorë recorded the weakest turnout in the  country at just 33.56 percent, with women voting at an even lower rate of 31.67 percent.  Gjirokastër also reported low engagement, with only 38.85 percent of voters and 37.31  percent of women casting ballots. Shkodër and Durrës likewise fell below the national  average, standing at 41.86 percent and 44.96 percent respectively. Most districts showed  turnout levels in the mid-40 percent range, such as Berat at 44.20 percent, Lezhë at 44.08  percent, Fier at 45.35 percent, and Elbasan at 47.86 percent. In nearly all regions, female  turnout lagged slightly behind male turnout, though the gap varied by district. Overall,  the 2021 elections confirmed persistent patterns of low participation, strong regional  disparities, and noticeable gender differences. These dynamics are essential for  understanding electoral behavior and for linking turnout patterns to broader demographic  shifts, including youth emigration and population decline.   The OSCE/ODIHR final report on the 2021 Albanian elections stated that voters were  offered a genuine choice of candidates, campaigns took place freely, and fundamental  rights were generally respected. However, the mission also identified several structural  issues that created an uneven playing field. The ruling party benefited from its influence  over local administrations and the misuse of state resources, while the overall campaign  environment was affected by widespread allegations of vote-buying. Media coverage14 was heavily unbalanced in favour of incumbents, with frequent overlap between  government activities and party messaging, which further strengthened the ruling party’s  advantage.   Despite the Central Election Commission administering the process in an organized and  transparent manner, long-standing systemic problems remained unresolved. These  included weak oversight of campaign financing, concerns about personal data protection,  and legislative gaps that allow continued political manipulation. In response to these  issues, OSCE/ODIHR issued twenty-three recommendations aimed at improving the  integrity of future elections, with emphasis on securing the secrecy of the vote,  strengthening investigations into vote-buying, protecting citizens’ data, and ensuring fair  and independent media conditions for all contestants.   Last General elections 2025 - an electoral anomaly?   The official turnout figures show that participation in the most recent elections varied  widely across Albania’s twelve districts. Out of more than 3.46 million registered voters  nationwide, around 1.46 million cast a ballot, giving a general turnout rate of 42.25  percent. Tirana recorded the highest number of voters, with more than 450,000 people  participating and a turnout rate of 49.29 percent.  Dibër also performed strongly with  49.07 percent turnout, followed by Kukës at 45.56 percent. In contrast, Vlorë had the  lowest participation in the country, where only 30.40 percent of registered voters took  part. Shkodër and Gjirokastër also reported lower engagement, at 36.81 percent and 35.81  percent respectively. Most other districts, including Berat, Lezhë, Korçë, Fier and  Elbasan, remained in the low-forties range.   A comparison of the two election cycles shows a noticeable decline in voter participation  across almost all districts. In the 2021 general elections, national turnout stood at 46.33  percent, with over 1.66 million voters participating. By contrast, in the later election the  nationwide turnout fell to 42.25 percent, with about 1.46 million voters casting a ballot.  This means participation dropped by more than four percentage points overall. Several  districts that performed strongly in 2021, such as Korçë, Elbasan, Fier and Lezhë,  recorded lower turnout in the more recent vote. Vlorë remained the weakest both times,  but its turnout decreased even further, moving from 33.56 percent in 2021 to only 30.40  percent. Shkodër and Gjirokastër also showed continued low engagement, confirming a  wider pattern of regional stagnation and decline.   Voting trends of Serbian diaspora   The dynamics of diaspora voting offer a revealing lens through which to examine how  formally competitive elections can be subtly re-engineered in favor of incumbents. In line  with Levitsky and Way’s framework, both Albania and Serbia illustrate how electoral  openness can coexist with increasingly uneven playing fields shaped by participation  patterns and organizational power. Dr. Dejan Bursać’s answers are useful because they  point to a shared pattern Albania and Serbia can display in Levitsky & Way’s terms:  elections remain formally open and opposition parties still run, yet incumbents can  steadily stack the odds in their favor by shaping participation and building durable  political machines. In Serbia, he recalls that 10–15 years ago diaspora voting was tiny  (around 10,000 voters) and the bulk of those votes tended to go to liberal, pro-European  parties. Later, once voting procedures became simpler and more accessible, diaspora  turnout reportedly rose (around 30,000 about a decade ago), and the balance shifted  today, he says, most diaspora votes go to the ruling party.   Bursać offers two explanations that map onto Levitsky & Way’s “uneven playing field”  logic. First, he links the new pro-government diaspora pattern to who participates:  working-class, older, and less-qualified emigrants are described as more likely to back  incumbents, often because they value stability, patronage, or tangible benefits. Second, he  highlights a transnational party infrastructure: the SNS’s organizational networks, he  argues, are well-funded and active even in neighboring countries and diaspora hubs,  which can mobilize turnout and preference formation at scale. The combination of  expanded access + targeted mobilization capacity can flip diaspora outcomes without needing to ban opponents, exactly the type of mechanism that keeps elections  “competitive” but structurally advantages incumbents.   Migration benefits the authorities Despite the clear decline in turnout between the two elections, the evidence shows that  demographic change itself is a key driver of lower participation and that this shift helps  explain the outcome. In the most recent election, the party secured 83 mandates and  53.29 percent of the vote, a level of dominance which is contradictory when facing huge  demographic drain. Youth emigration reduces the size of the most turnout-volatile  segment of the electorate and weakens the social networks that typically pull young  voters into politics. As a result, the electorate that remains is older, more settled, and  more likely to vote regularly. In other words, turnout falls not only because of “political  apathy,” but because the country’s demographic structure is changing: fewer young  people are physically present, and those who stay are a shrinking share of the voting-age  population.   The patterns in youth preferences and voting habits analyzed fit this logic: many young  citizens do not vote because they see limited personal payoff from participation, feel  underrepresented by party offerings, and increasingly treat migration as the main strategy  for improving life chances. "Exit” over “voice”. Among those who do vote, choices tend  to be shaped less by long-term partisan loyalty and more by short-term calculations like  stability, access, and perceived effectiveness, while clientelistic or mobilization networks  can further tilt participation toward groups that are easier to reach and motivate. Taken  together, youth emigration and youth disengagement do not just lower turnout; they  change who turns out by producing an electorate that is narrower and more predictable  and thus, making it easier for an incumbent with strong organizational reach to maintain  and even deepen dominance despite a shrinking overall voter pool.   For Albania, this creates a useful comparative hypothesis: the Socialist Party’s dominant  result can be interpreted not simply as popularity, but as potentially reinforced by  incumbent-friendly mobilization channels (party networks, patronage linkages,  messaging capacity, and administrative leverage) that operate at home and, possibly,  through diaspora voting procedures and outreach. The comparative punchline is not  “Albania = Serbia,” but that both cases may show how incumbents in hybrid regimes can  convert expanding participation (including diaspora voting) into dominance, while  maintaining the outward form of pluralist competition, one of Levitsky & Way’s core  signatures of competitive authoritarianism. 

Author: Skye Warner-Mackintosh Centrally located on Kneza Miloša Street is the ruins of the former Yugoslav Generalštab building. Coming to the city for the first time in February 2023, it was the first thing I noticed upon arriving at the main train station. The building towers over you, occupying both sides of the street, and you are engulfed in the symbolic history of Yugoslavia and the contemporary struggle for a unanimous Serbian identity. The symbolic meanings of the building are not immediately apparent; you are invited to create your own meaning from the ruins before you. Unlike other remnants of the NATO bombing, such as the RTS bombing site, the Generalštab is impossible to miss; it is not subtle and located right in the heart of Belgrade.  Photo: Gavrilo Andrić Furthermore, the remains of the Generalštab building are a unique example of the maintenance of architectural ruins. Often, post-conflict reconstruction takes place as a prelude to identity reformation and healing (Ortiz and Córdoba, 2023). The question of what to do with buildings in the aftermath of conflict is often dealt with promptly, and buildings are often restored to their original historic design, preserved as ruins (although this is uncommon), or removed completely. The post-war period of reconstruction across Europe saw many German cities rebuild, with historically significant buildings either being preserved (and used as a museum or monument) or removed and rebuilt. Thus, for many places, rebuilding and commemoration are essential aspects of national bonding in post-conflict reconciliation, and this rebuilding is crucial in the healing process (Ejdus, 2017: 25).  Therefore, the Generalštab has “spontaneously grown into an inseparable part of the Belgrade cityscape and a de facto national monument of defiance and victimhood” (Ejdus, 2017: 36). It is laden with unambiguous meaning and, therefore, has been a crucial site of Serbian national-identity formation, specifically for people living in Belgrade, following the dissolution of Yugoslavia and remains to this day a highly controversial and puzzling symbolic urban space. This essay will critically examine the role of victimhood in Serbian national identity formation following the dissolution of Yugoslavia in 1991 and subsequent ethnic-conflicts across the Western Balkans. Using the Generalštab as an example, this essay analyses three central ‘readings’ of the building as advocated by Bădescu (2019): victimhood, injustice and resistance. Here, I make the distinction between state and societal victimhood, ultimately arguing that the building is a key signifier of the Serbian state's geopolitical and mnemonic identity, yet also highlights growing resentment and resistance to this regime.  Historic Background  On the 25th of June 1991, Croatia and Slovenia declared independence from the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRJ). This marked the end of a union of South Slavs that had spanned over much of the 20th century. The success of Yugoslavia is widely debated amongst historians, although there is consensus that, throughout the period of 1936-1990, it was relatively stable. The dissolution of Yugoslavia in 1991, therefore, was relatively surprising and, although many authors could have predicted an ‘inevitable’ collapse, the violent and bloody nature of the aftermath of the collapse was quite unpredictable.  As discussed by Jovic (2001), the successive wars across the Western Balkans have numerous explanations, and it is impossible to pinpoint one ‘simple’ reason for the bloodshed that followed the dissolution. Whilst economic, socio-cultural, and political arguments have all been widely debated, it is clear that there was brewing discontent in the region throughout the 70s and 80s and Yugoslavia was largely tied to Tito. Therefore, following his death in 1980, the dissolution was not a matter of ‘if’ but, rather, ‘when’. It is impossible to give nuance to every argument on the dissolution of Yugoslavia when this essay’s purpose is to focus on the contemporary implications of these national dilemmas; however, it is important to understand the historical context that gave rise to different nationalist ideologies that dictated the nature of the breakup. However, for many historians, the question is not why Yugoslavia broke up, but, rather, why Yugoslavia broke up in the way that it did. With years of bloodshed and ethnic conflict, ending in 1999 with the NATO bombing of Belgrade. The brutal aftermath of the dissolution of Yugoslavia has been greatly influential in shaping contemporary national identities in the Western Balkans. With ethnic conflict spreading across the region following the dissolution and 100,000 lives lost, the scars of the 90s remain etched in the memories of people across the region, making it difficult to separate national identity from the collective memories of the 1990s. Thus, understanding the widespread bloodshed and victimhood of every ethnicity in the Western Balkans is important and gives insight into the contemporary geopolitical dynamics of the region.  Theoretical Background  Memory Assmann (2011) explores the relationship between the past and the self, arguing that the self would not exist without memories of the past. Here, “the human self is built from the stuff of time” (ibid.,15); we are products of stories, food, family histories, monuments, buildings and much more. Unlike traditional scholars of memory, Assmann argues that memory can often transgress the individual mind and can be promoted through inanimate objects (ibid.,17). Here, he makes the distinction between communicative and cultural memory. Whilst cultural memory is a collective preservation of the past (often through relics, monuments and symbols), communicative memory is much more subjective, often residing in the mundane tapestry of individual everyday life (ibid.,17). The city, therefore, is a site of both memory functions: in Belgrade, for example, one could walk through the city and reflect on the symbolism of the the Generalštab as a site of national bonding, whilst simultaneously reflecting individual symbolic histories interwoven in the urban fabric of the city.  Bădescu (2019: 183) notes that “cities have long been arenas of political struggle”, Belgrade is no different. It has been at the centre of many historical events and empires, and has often been a city of conquest. Until the dissolution of Yugoslavia, Belgrade was the capital city of the republic and, therefore, a vessel of Yugoslav identity formation and nation-building. As such, Yugoslav territorial bonding was fixed in Belgrade, with Tito residing in the socialist heart of New Belgrade (Abram, 2014).  Bădescu (2016; 2019) emphasises the active role of the city in constructing collective and cultural memories, as such, urban space becomes “a mediator for translating historic events into memory” and, within this, monuments are ‘selective aids’ in this process. Here, memory intersects with political experiences of urban space and a range of different actors are involved in interpreting sites of memory to make national symbolic meaning. Bernhard and Kubik (2014) refer to this as a ‘memory regime’ in which political elites, state institutions and civil society compete in defining historical interpretations as a strategy of legitimisation. As will be discussed later, the Generalštab building is symbolic of this power struggle, where different actors compete to assign a collective meaning to the building, either as a symbol of Western/NATO aggression, Serbian resilience, civil resistance or Yugonostalgia. Since 2014, when Vucic was elected, memory politics are ‘back’ in Serbia (Vukpalaj, 2025), representing a regime shift in how the 90s are commemorated and remembered in communicative and cultural memory.  Victimhood Another central tenet that has anchored Serbian and wider post-Yugoslav national identity formation has been victimhood. Chouliaraki (2020: 8) defines victimhood as “a structure of affective communication that is deeply grounded in the past”. Thus, it marks an intersection of the past and present and requires subjective interpretation alongside political meaning-making to be useful. Hronešová (2025) states that victimhood has a strong unifying function and is often used to consolidate national identities and state narratives. Victimhood is, therefore, ontological and is defined based on a binary opposition of ‘us’ and ‘them’. This relational capacity of victimhood is particularly relevant in the Balkans, where there are different and competing experiences and interpretations of victimhood and history. Vukpalaj (2025) notes that victimhood can be mobilised by the state to achieve political aims and narratives. Specifically, narratives of Serbian victimhood, dating as far back as 1389, are used contempoaraily to justify the non-recognition of Kosovo as an independent state, particularly following Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine.  Moreover, victimhood is often top-down and state-led (Hronešová, 2025). Here, victimhood has a strong unifying function that can be monopolised by so-called memory regimes to serve the political elite. The pain and stories of the vulnerable can, therefore, be manipulated, creating an ‘ontological narrative framework’ that provides a basis for foreign policy, militarisation and the definition of the enemy. Hronešová explores how this has manifested in Serbia through so-called ‘strategic victimhood’.  The concept of ‘strategic victimhood’ illustrates how elites propagate narratives of historical injustice and foreign hostility to mobilise a national identity based on a sense of collective suffering. Here, historical injustice is woven into the consolidation of national identity, particularly in relatively stable post-conflict societies, and the ‘us-them’ divide is solidified in policy. Moreover, elites can specifically harness the character of ‘victim’ through the notion of ‘hijacked victimhood’ (Hronešová and Kreiss, 2024). Hijacked victimhood is defined as a political strategy where already powerful groups or leaders claim victim status. Here, the typical narrative of victimhood is inverted to defend or expand their power, often by portraying themselves as oppressed by marginalised groups they then demonise, using this perceived threat to justify aggression, policies, or violence. However, as will be discussed later, there is a uniquely emancipatory potential within victimhood, which can be used to consolidate grievance against the elite and illuminate top-down memory regimes.  Identity that contrasts Western values As discussed above, victimhood is often something that is ‘hijacked’ by political actors, anchoring national identity and translating history into new ontic narratives. The Generalštab represents a disputed site of national bonding, a site that is “craving unambiguous meaning” (Ejdus, 2017: 36). As a building, it is experienced subjectively by passersby, but it has also been mobilised by politicians and the state as a site of victimhood since Vučić came to power. In the aftermath of the dissolution of Yugoslavia, the topic of the 90s was mostly ignored by politicians, with conversations often dating back to WW2, or even further back to Ottoman and Habsburg occupation. It was only in 2014, when Vučić came to power, that victimhood from the NATO bombing began to reemerge into official state narratives, marking a political decision to mobilise victimhood. As argued by Ejdus (2017: 31), the building remains there in ruin because it is there to satisfy Serbia’s ontological security needs. It represents a “defiant and brave nation” and, through this, becomes a “de facto national monument of defiance and victimhood”.  Thus, the Generalštab not only defines a new Serbian national identity, it also defines what this identity is not. It starkly contrasts Serbian identity with Western values, imbuing a sense of victimhood and struggle, which then determines foreign policy outcomes.  A key way this has been achieved is through the involvement of the Serbian Orthodox church in commemoration. Although viewed as a ‘neutral vessel’ in Serbian politics, the Church has become increasingly influential, enjoying the highest levels of public trust intergenerationally and becoming one of the largest investors in Serbia (Marinović, 2025). As argued by Edina Bećirović, the Serbian Orthodox Church has become an important tool in state-driven narratives of a Greater Serbian project, providing “legitimacy under the guise of spirituality” (Marinović, 2025). Although the influence of the Church is a different conversation, this has had particular implications in the commemoration of the 1999 NATO bombings, and the Church has played a key role in discussions regarding the future of the Generalštab building. As stated by Patriarch Irinej, “those ruins which are located in the centre of Belgrade should never be repaired. Let there be a testimony of our time, a testimony of [the destruction brought by] cultured Europe, testimony of democratic Europe that cared about freedom and democracy” (found in Bădescu, 2019). Thus, the Church deems the existence of the ruins as a crucial component of national identity formation in opposition to Europe. The example of the SOC demonstrates how victimhood has been integrated as part of Serbian religious identity, which is inherently interlinked with new national identities. The existence of the building signifies resistance to Europeanism and represents a new Serbian national identity where historical memory is interpreted by the Church and the state.  However, the framing of historical narratives of victimhood can also be mobilised for political gain. Vukpalaj (2025) argues that memory and victimhood can be used to justify foreign policy goals, and the existence of the Generalštab ruins can be used to negotiate new geopolitical relations for Serbia. In November 2025, the Serbian government passed a ‘lex specialis’ that allowed the redevelopment of the Generalštab building. This was a somewhat surprising shift in official memory rhetoric that has largely promoted the preservation of the ruins to promote a Serbian identity forged in victimhood, as discussed above.  However, the government's lease of the building to Jared Kushner, Trump's son-in-law, who proposed to build luxury hotels and ‘Trump Towers’, showed a political divergence. However, some argue that this lease is geopolitically relevant, mobilising victimhood to improve Serbia’s political relations with a new right-wing administration in the US. Moreover, the framing of the bombing has been useful in developing closer ties with Russia and China, which historically opposed the bombing. Thus, victimhood has been hijacked to re-route Serbia’s political position in the international arena, yet there are areas of contention and resistance within these narratives, which will be discussed below.  Bottom-up  However, the ambiguous meaning of the building has also made it a site of public resistance where victimhood is interpreted differently. Here, the building's ontic meaning shifts from symbolic of European aggression and Serbian might to symbolic of a rich Yugoslav history and, more importantly, of continued government divergence from the desires of Serbian citizens.  The architectural community of Belgrade have been a constant advocate for the reconstruction of the Generalštab to its original design. Importantly, the Generalštab was constructed as an ontic space in the 1960s as a symbol of Yugoslav unity against fascism. It was supposed to represent “features of a defiant and brave nation” (Ejdus, 2017) and is argued to be Serbia’s greatest feat of Socialist modernism, being architect Nikola Dobrović’s ‘magnum opus’. Thus, the alternatives of either destroying the building, leasing it, or keeping it in ruin all oppose the dramatic symbolism of Yugoslav unity that the building represents.  Heritage watchdog DOCOMOMO stated that the destruction and lease of the building would be “erasure of a European masterpiece of modernist architecture and a symbol of Yugoslavia and Serbia’s post-war identity and creativity” (Docomomo, 2025). Furthermore, the decision would damage the relationship between Serbia and the European Union, which goes against 33% of the general public's support for integration. This shows that contemporary critical Serbian national identities often oppose state-led narratives, with parts of the population advocating for the country to embrace the original purpose and design of the building. In response to the government leasing the building to Jared Kushner, there were a series of protests outside the Generalštab building in 2025, led by the Student Blockade, uniting all people opposed to the lease under a ‘We are the Wall Protest’. Here, the argument was that history and memory cannot be erased by administrative measures or special laws passed urgently. Thus, the people stood unified against top-down narratives of victimhood and memory, calling for collective memories to reimagine Serbian identity through the preservation of these ruins.  Finally, the Generalštab is a site of intergenerational resistance and represents resistance against the inequality created by the regime. For many, the symbolism is confusing and upsetting. Victimhood is still deployed here, but in more of a subtle way. As Bădescu (2019) argues, the Generalštab building represents a Western campaign against Belgrade that was paradoxical and unjust because the city also had the highest concentration of opposition to Milošević’s regime. Therefore, the building is symbolic of a historic regime that was somewhat opposed in the 90s, and acts as a reminder of this regime. However, whilst Serbian victimhood is still mostly operationalised in opposition to the West, the younger generation also feel a victimhood towards the regime itself. Hronešová (2025) examined victimhood in Serbian youth who had no experiences/direct memories of the 90s, finding that young people in Serbia feel that they are victims of the system more than they are victims of a concrete period in time. As one student stated: “We are victims of corruption rather than of wars” (Hronešová, 2025: 541). Despite this, they still emphasised the political elements of this. Serbia is seen as both a victim of domestic corruption and unjust international positioning, which is perhaps a legacy of the 90s. However, this example of positive victimhood has been mobilised throughout the student movements where, since 2024, students have become driving forces in fighting against top-down narratives of Serbian national identity, showing an optimism and promise for the future of national-identity where the memories and narratives can be made sense of in a rational way. Here, the Generalštab is representative of a new Serbia, led by a generation that is somewhat detached from the ontic reality of the 90s, that does not exist simply in opposition to the West, but also opposes hijacked narratives of victimhood that seek to exploit national-identity to pursue regimes of corruption.  Generalštab still remains This essay has traced a historical evolution of Serbian national identity in relation to different victimhood narratives in contemporary Serbia. The Generalštab is widely agreed to be an ontic space symbolic of multiple ambiguous meanings, and this has demonstrated how these meanings are mobilised by different actors to achieve different goals. On one hand, it is symbolic of European and Western aggression against Serbia; its existence is a promise to a new Serbian national identity that is defined in opposition to the West, and it is a monument dedicated to defiance and victimhood. On the other hand, it is symbolic of Yugoslav identity and modernism, a European architectural wonder, and the current regime’s decision to collaborate with the American right-wing on a redevelopment of the space marks a betrayal of this past. Thus, it is a site of national re-bonding, where people can be encouraged to imagine different realities, harness creativity and resilience to corruption.  However, one thing is clear: the Generalštab still remains, on Kneza Miloša Street, untouched. Everyday when people walk past new identities are constructed, different ideas of victimhood are projected, and different meanings are assigned to the ruin. It remains an important ontic site for the Serbian state, and the ambiguity of the building makes it somewhat impossible to imagine any future projects. Despite this, it is a crucial example in understanding how victimhood has framed national identity historically and contemporarily. Bibliography  Abram, M. (2014). Building the Capital City of the Peoples of Yugoslavia: Representations of Socialist Yugoslavism in.... Politička misao, [online] 51(5), pp.36–57. Available at: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/349537039_Building_the_Capital_City_of_the_People s_of_Yugoslavia_Representations_of_Socialist_Yugoslavism_in_Belgrade [Accessed 2 Feb. 2026].  Assmann, J. (2008). Communicative and Cultural Memory. 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