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

Autor: Almin Šemić Na zidu zgrade u blizini Staklene banke u Mostaru, iza Hrvatskog narodnog kazališta, u ulici Kneza Domagoja, nalazi se grafit iz naslovne fotografije koji svjedoči o dugotrajnoj prisutnosti različitih poruka u javnom prostoru Mostara. Fotografija preuzeta sa portala Bljesak.info Kako uočavamo, površina zida već je ranije korištena za ispisivanje raznih natpisa, uključujući navijačke oznake i druge poruke, što ukazuje na to da ovaj prostor funkcionira kao otvorena površina za neformalnu vizualnu komunikaciju. U središtu pažnje nalazi se grafit sa porukom „Smrt fašizmu, sloboda narodu“, preko koje je iscrtana simbolika ustaškog U. Time se unutar istog vizualnog polja uspostavlja direktan i jasan ideološki kontrast između antifašističke parole i simbola koji nosi suprotno historijsko i političko značenje. Osim toga, poruka je svojevrsni kontrast ali i ogledalo mostarskog društva, koje putem ovakvih grafita, izražavaju pripadnost jednoj ideologiji ili ideologijama. Na istom zidu nalazi se i natpis „Postoji zapadni Mostar“, koji se može čitati kao oblik narativa o podijeljenosti Mostara. Ovakve poruke ne funkcionišu samo kao individualni izrazi, već kao ponavljajući diskursi koji oblikuju percepciju grada i njegovih granica u simboličkom smislu. Kako i Joseph Goebbels kaže “svaka laž ponovljena stotinu puta, postaje istina”. Zamislite samo, koliko se puta morala ponoviti ovakva poruka kao i njoj slične poruke da postane normalna. U kontekstu djece i propagande, za desetak godina, propagandnim djelovanjem se više neće znati ni je li Mostar bio antifašistički grad. Zamislite i koliko se puta morala ponoviti začkoljica Gimnazija Mostar, kako bi se iskorijenilo ime Alekse Šantića. Na cesti u mostarskom prigradskom naselju Vrapčići, u blizini Mikulića mahale ispisan je grafit koji sadrži poruku usmjerenu prema jednoj etničkoj grupi. Natpis je napisan crnim sprejem direktno na asfaltu, bez dodatnih vizualnih elemenata, što upućuje na brzu neformalnu intervenciju u javnom prostoru. Kao što je to slučaj i kod svakog grafita kojim se želi nešto brzo poručiti. Fotografija preuzeta sa portala Večernji list Prema medijskim navodima, konkretno Raporta i Večernjeg lista, grafit je primijećen u jutarnjim satima, nakon čega je slučaj prijavljen nadležnim institucijama koje su izvršile uviđaj. Iz dostupnih informacija proizlazi da su slični natpisi i ranije zabilježeni na ovom području, što ukazuje na kontinuitet korištenja javnih površina za ispisivanje poruka sa političkim i identitetskim konotacijama. Za razliku od grafita koji koriste simboliku ili indirektne poruke, ovaj natpis karakterizira eksplicitna i nedvosmislena formulacija. Ono što ga razdvaja od grafita iz prethodne analize jeste direktnost i eksplicitnost poruke, koja ne koristi simbolički sukob već otvoreno i nedvosmisleno komunicira sadržaj. Dok je prethodni grafit funkcionirao kroz preklapanje znakova i stvaranje ideološkog konflikta unutar istog vizualnog prostora, ovaj se oslanja na jasnu verbalnu formulaciju bez potrebe za dodatnim tumačenjem. U analitičkom smislu, kao što smo već pomenuli, poruka grafita je jasno usmjerena prema konkretnoj etničkoj grupi, što proizlazi iz same formulacije teksta. Njena struktura i izbor riječi ukazuju na pokušaj direktne komunikacije sa jasno definiranim drugim i drugačijim, pri čemu se javni prostor koristi kao kanal za prenošenje takve poruke. Istovremeno, iako nije moguće sa sigurnošću utvrditi tko stoji iza ispisivanja grafita, način na koji je formuliran upućuje na obrazac karakterističan za anonimne aktere koji djeluju izvan institucionalnih okvira. Upravo ta anonimnost omogućava poruci da postoji bez preuzimanja bilo kakve odgovornosti, dok njena javna vidljivost osigurava širenje poruke bez posrednika. U navedenom kontekstu, grafit se može interpretirati kao oblik poruke koja ne teži dijalogu već jednostranom iskazu prisutnosti i stava u prostoru. Da prostite, kao kad lav izmokri teritoriju da je označi, tako slično možemo posmatrati i ovaj grafit. Njegova funkcija nije informativna, već performativna, on ne samo da prenosi sadržaj, nego i uspostavlja određeni odnos prema prostoru i zajednici u kojoj se pojavljuje. U ovom grafitu moguće je prepoznati i elemente propagandnog djelovanja, iako on ne djeluje kroz organiziranu ili institucionalnu formu. Poruka je formulirana direktno i bez simboličke složenosti, što je jedna od osnovnih karakteristika propagande, jasnoća i lakoća razumijevanja bez potrebe za dodatnim tumačenjem. Usmjerena je prema konkretnoj grupi i koristi snažan, emocionalno nabijen jezik čime se postiže efekt privlačenja pažnje i potencijalnog uticaja na percepciju prolaznika, ali i na samu emociju. Iako nije poznato tko stoji iza pisanja ovakvog grafita, način na koji je izvedena ukazuje na pokušaj da se kroz javni prostor prenese određeni stav i učvrsti prisutnost tog narativa, što grafit svrstava u širi okvir neformalne, decentralizirane propagande. A zamislite samo, koliko se puta ovakva propagandna poruka morala ponoviti da bi postala stvarnost. Na zidu stambene zgrade u Mostaru, ispisan je grafit koji sadrži više poruka pisanih crnim i crvenim sprejem. Gornji dio čini rečenica koja referira na teritorijalno širenje i historijski kontekst, uz dodatak simbola i godine, dok se u donjem dijelu nalazi natpis “Ustaše Mostar: fašizam živi!”. Fotografija preuzeta sa portala Mostarski.ba Različite boje i raspored sugeriraju da grafit nije nastao u jednom trenutku, već kao slojevita intervencija više autora ili u različitim fazama. Svakako da, spominjanje geografskih referenci i ideoloških termina ukazuje na pokušaj da se prostor simbolički definira i poveže sa određenim historijskim interpretacijama. Gornji dio grafita, onaj o povijenom kontekstu odnosno granicama, jasno prikazuje svijest okoline o proučavanju povijesti. Sto puta ponovljena laž je istina, a upravo tim putem se nastoji ići kroz pisanje ovakvih grafita, alaudirajući da je NDH tekovina još uvijek prisutna u Mostaru. Ona ista NDH koja svojata granice do Drine i zaziva crna odijela. Ako posmatramo kroz prizmu propagande, ovaj grafit pokazuje kako javni prostor može postati mjesto konkurentskih poruka koje nastoje oblikovati percepciju prolaznika. Gornji natpis koristi povijesne reference i teritorijalne aluzije kako bi sugerirao određeni politički i identitetski okvir, oslanjajući se na prepoznatljive simbole i narative koji već imaju emocionalno i ideološko značenje u Mostaru. Takav pristup odgovara osnovnim principima propagande, pojednostavljivanje poruke, oslanjanje na poznate simbole i pokušaj povezivanja prostora sa određenim kolektivnim identitetom. Nadalje, jedan od osnovnih principa propagande jest ponavljanje poruke, u ovom primjeru, poruke fašizma koja zapravo i već dugo odzvanja Mostarom. Pitanje ostaje, kako ovakve poruke ne bude akciju u predstavnicima vlasti u Mostaru? Da li su i oni taoci ovakvih politika? Ukoliko posmatramo nedavni pokušaj brisanja grafita Slobodana Praljka iz naselja Ortiješ, te upade u mjesto Baćevići gdje živi pretežno srpsko stanovništvo (slučaj lijepljenja ustaških stikera i pisanje ustaških simbola na spomeniku NOBa), onda dolazimo do svjesnog propagandnog djelovanja koje svoje utemeljenje pronalazi duboko u prošlosti. U kontekstu propagande, ovaj grafit može se i interpretirati kao oblik afirmacije ideološkog narativa koji se oslanja na historijske reference i simbole povezane s fašističkim nasljeđem. Odnosno, prihvatanje jedne ideologije. Takve poruke ne djeluju izolirano, već se često nadovezuju na postojeće društvene i političke tenzije, posebno u sredinama poput Mostara gdje je javni prostor i dalje obilježen posljedicama ratnih sukoba iz 1990ih. U tom smislu, grafit se može povezati s narativima koji proizlaze iz rata u Bosni i Hercegovini, uključujući i sukobe između Bošnjaka i Hrvata, pri čemu simboli i poruke služe kao način reinterpretacije ili održavanja određenih kolektivnih sjećanja. Drugim riječima, ratne granice su možda i pobrisane, no one teritorijalne nisu. Danas se u Mostaru fašizam slavi kao Nova godina. Svjedočili smo skrnavljenju Partizanskog spomen groblja i lupanju ploča. Osim toga, prisutan je i emocionalni princip djelovanja, pogotovo u dijelu suživota, gdje se emocionalnim putem nastoji postići akcija. Na informativnoj tabli ispred objekta povezanog sa vjerskim i kulturnim institucijama srpske zajednice u Mostaru, točnije ispred Vladičanskog dvora, ispisan je grafit ljubičastim sprejem koji uključuje oznake “1981” i “4. Korpus”. Fotografija preuzeta sa portala Top Portal Ove reference mogu se dovesti u vezu sa lokalnim identitetskim i historijskim kontekstom, “1981” se često povezuje sa navijačkom grupom Red Army, dok “4. Korpus” upućuje na formaciju Armije BiH koja je djelovala na ovom području tokom rata u Bosni i Hercegovini. Sam izbor lokacije, tabla koja označava muzej i vjerski objekt, dodatno naglašava simboličku dimenziju intervencije u ovom prostoru. U analitičkom smislu, grafit se može posmatrati kao oblik simboličkog označavanja prostora, gdje se kroz kratke i prepoznatljive oznake prenosi određeni identitetski okvir. Takve poruke ne moraju nužno imati eksplicitnu verbalnu formulaciju da bi bile razumljive lokalnoj zajednici, jer se njihovo značenje gradi kroz postojeće društvene i historijske reference. U tom kontekstu, grafit može djelovati kao signal prisutnosti jedne grupe ili narativa u prostoru, posebno kada je ispisan na mjestu koje se povezuje s drugom zajednicom. Dakle, poruka može biti poznata samo lokalnoj ili široj zajednici, a u ovom kontekstu poznata je i široj i lokalnoj zajednici. U okviru propagande, ovaj grafit može se posmatrati kao oblik simboličkog i identitetskog označavanja prostora, koji ne koristi direktne poruke, već prepoznatljive oznake unutar lokalnog konteksta. Natpisi “4. Korpus” i “1981” upućuju na ratnu i navijačku simboliku, čime se kroz kombinaciju tih referenci prenosi određeni identitetski okvir. Njegovo značenje dodatno se oblikuje kroz lokaciju, s obzirom na to da je ispisan na tabli ispred objekta povezanog s institucijama srpske zajednice u Mostar, čime poruka dobija konkretnu ciljanu dimenziju. U tom smislu, grafit se može interpretirati kao signal prisutnosti jedne društvene ili ideološke skupine u prostoru koji se simbolički povezuje s drugom. Slični natpisi sa istim oznakama već su ranije zabilježeni na ovom i srodnim lokalitetima, što ukazuje na obrazac ponavljanja i korištenja javnog prostora za prenošenje kodiranih poruka, karakterističan za neformalne oblike propagandnog djelovanja. Na prvi pogled, grafit “UBIJ BALIJU” na izletištu u Bunica djeluje kao još jedan čin vandalizma u javnom prostoru. Međutim, njegova poruka prevazilazi obični grafit i ulazi u sferu propagande mržnje, etničke netrpeljivosti i simboličkog nasilja. Sama lokacija dodatno pojačava težinu poruke – prirodno izletište koje bi trebalo predstavljati prostor odmora, zajedništva i bijega od društvenih tenzija pretvara se u mjesto zastrašivanja i podsjećanja na ratne narative koji ni decenijama nakon sukoba nisu u potpunosti nestali iz javnog prostora Bosne i Hercegovine. Fotografija preuzeta sa Facebook stranice Blagaj Info Poruka grafita je direktna, agresivna i ne ostavlja prostor za interpretaciju. Korištenje riječi “balija”, koja se u nacionalističkom diskursu koristi kao pogrdan naziv za Bošnjake, pokazuje jasnu namjeru dehumanizacije određene etničke skupine. Upravo je dehumanizacija jedan od ključnih elemenata propagande mržnje kroz historiju – stvaranje slike “drugog” kao manje vrijednog, opasnog ili nepoželjnog. Kada se takva poruka spoji s imperativom “ubij”, grafit prelazi iz govora mržnje u otvoreni poziv na nasilje. Vizualno, grafit nije umjetnički kompleksan, ali njegova propagandna snaga leži upravo u brutalnoj jednostavnosti. Crna boja slova, grubo ispisana na betonskoj površini, ostavlja dojam hitnosti i sirove agresije. Nema estetske ambicije, nema simbolike koja bi prikrivala značenje – cilj nije umjetnički izraz nego širenje straha i provociranje reakcije. Takvi grafiti često služe kao teritorijalne oznake, odnosno pokušaj simboličkog “prisvajanja” prostora kroz nacionalističku poruku. Posebno je značajno analizirati kontekst Mostara i Hercegovine, prostora koji i dalje nose snažno naslijeđe ratnih podjela. U takvom ambijentu grafiti postaju sredstvo produžavanja konflikta u simboličkoj formi. Oni ne djeluju samo na pojedinca koji ih pročita, već utiču i na kolektivnu atmosferu, stvarajući osjećaj nesigurnosti i produbljujući nepovjerenje među zajednicama. Propaganda u ovom slučaju ne pokušava uvjeriti argumentima, nego emocijama – prvenstveno mržnjom, strahom i bijesom. Ovakvi grafiti također imaju funkciju normalizacije ekstremnog govora. Kada poruke koje pozivaju na nasilje ostaju dugo prisutne u javnom prostoru bez reakcije institucija ili zajednice, stvara se utisak društvene tolerancije prema njima. Time grafit postaje više od pojedinačnog ispada; on postaje dio šire kulture šutnje i pasivnosti prema nacionalističkom nasilju. U propagandnom smislu, grafit koristi nekoliko ključnih mehanizama: pojednostavljivanje poruke, identifikaciju “neprijatelja”, emocionalnu manipulaciju i javnu vidljivost. Upravo zbog toga njegov uticaj može biti snažan, posebno među mlađim generacijama koje svakodnevno odrastaju okružene simbolima podjela. Umjesto dijaloga i zajedničkog prostora, ovakve poruke proizvode atmosferu konflikta i podsjećaju koliko je javni prostor u Bosni i Hercegovini i dalje mjesto političke i identitetske borbe.

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 

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

Historically speaking, the Roma population has been one of the most marginalised and discriminated groups in the Western Balkans. During the middle and new ages, Roma people were slaves to the other nations in the Balkans, with Roma slavery being officially abolished only in 1856 in Romania. Estimates say that up to half a million Roma people were killed during the Second World War by Nazi Germany and its fascist collaborators. According to data from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, tens of thousands of Roma in the territory of the former Yugoslavia under German occupation were sent to concentration camps such as Sajmište and Jasenovac. The Roma population in Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina was nearly decimated (Post-conflict Research Center, 2018, 4). A Roma child stands in front of the "Eternal Flame" in downtown Sarajevo. The plaque does not mention the casualties of Sarajevan minorities. Image by Jasmin Brutos. Bosnia, July 2008. Taken from: https://pulitzercenter.org According to the last available population census from 2013, Roma population in B&H amounts to 12,583 or 0,36% of the total population (Agency for Statistics of Bosnia and Herzegovina, 2019, 27), which makes them the biggest national minority in B&H an the fourth nationality. However, these figures do not depict the real situation for many reasons, two of them most important in the regard of this article. (1) Data collection like population census is carried out from door to door of households and this is the main obstacle since Roma people very often do not have a household in a usual sense of the word and reside in informal settlements where it is very challenging to keep track of the recorded households and their members. (2) Those who do take part in the data collection are hesitant to declare themselves as Roma due to the systemic and individual discrimination they have been experiencing for their whole lives. Instead, they either use their constitutionally guaranteed right not to declare their ethnicity/nationality or say that they are Bosniacs, Serbs or Croats.  According to the report by the Institution of Human Rights Ombudsman of Bosnia and Herzegovina the estimation of the real number of Roma population in B&H is around 50.000 in total (Institution of Human Rights Ombudsman of Bosnia and Herzegovina, 2014, 23). Data shows that 71% of Roma households in Eastern Europe live in absolute poverty, a concept used to describe the living conditions in which people do not have enough resources to meet basic needs such as food, water, clothing and shelter (Singer, 1993, 218). The Institution of Human Rights Ombudsman claims that the Roma people do not exercise their human rights. Between 50% and 70% of Roma in B&H live in substandard housing, most often consisting of one room and no sanitary facilities. As far as 30% of Roma who participated in UNICEF research did not have a kitchen, while 17% lived without electricity (UNICEF, 2013, 24).  When it comes to the legislative of the B&H, it is important to stress that “the Constitution of B&H does not recognize Roma and other minority groups as citizens with rights equal to those of their Bosniak, Croat, and Serb counterparts” (Post-conflict Research Center, 2018, 6-7). This gradually enables institutional discrimination and exclusion of Roma people, despite the ratification of international agreements that oblige B&H to fight against this kind of discrimination.  Socio-economic status of Roma in B&H (Employment, healthcare, and education) Comprehensive, detailed and up to date data on socio-economic status of Roma in B&H is missing, but different reports and research results show that Roma in B&H is an especially vulnerable population. According to these findings, Roma people in Bosnia and Herzegovina face the highest level of discrimination in terms of employment opportunities and are almost completely absent from the workforce, which means that they have little choice but to find unregistered work in the informal sector (“grey economy”) or remain without an income. The unemployment rate among Roma is 56%, which is among the highest in the Western Balkan region and twice as high as that of non-Roma (European Commission, 2019, 55). Roma youth from Kakanj, a town 40 km northwest of Sarajevo, pose for a portrait. Image by Jasmin Brutos. Bosnia, September 2009. Taken from: https://pulitzercenter.org Main cause for the high unemployment rate among Roma is the inaccessibility of the labour market. This comes as a consequence of either being undocumented, living in informal settlements away and separated from the urban areas where the job offer rate is higher or the sheer lack of education, skills and required work experience (Civil Rights Defenders, 2018, 10-11).  These deep systemic problems require intervention from the government, on all institutional levels. Qualitative analysis of the public policies which should result in a more satisfactory level of inclusion of Roma in B&H shows that the strategies only mention Roma briefly as one of the vulnerable groups and only few envisage Roma specific activities (Sarajlic, 2020). Most recent report of the European Commission points out that there is no significant progress in this area. Roma children are particularly vulnerable to the worst forms of child labour (European Commission, 2024, 41).  Although Bosnia and Herzegovina’s healthcare system is formally based on principles of solidarity, inclusiveness, and accessibility, significant disparities between declared aspirations and real life persist. Unequal access to healthcare, poor service quality, financial opacity, outdated technology, and insufficient investment in new equipment remain key challenges. Vulnerable groups are often treated as homogeneous in policy documents, overlooking their diverse needs. Roma, in particular, face persistent barriers to healthcare, primarily due to a lack of personal identification documents and residence registration. Without these, they cannot access services like healthcare, social security, or education. The situation is even more challenging for those in rural areas, where healthcare services are less accessible (Sarajlic, 2020, 29-31). According to the results of the 2013 Multiple Indicator Cluster Survey, more than 30% of Roma children of school age in Bosnia and Herzegovina do not attend primary school. Additionally, less than half complete primary education on time - 46% of boys and only 34% of girls (CAHROM, 2016, 17-19). Since the end of the war in 1995, 294 Roma children have dropped out of primary school in the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina alone, despite support measures implemented by the relevant ministries (Civil Rights Defenders, 2018, 14). Given the importance of education, especially for children from vulnerable families, it is alarming that only 1.5% of Roma children attend preschool. In addition to the poor living conditions faced by the Roma population in Bosnia and Herzegovina, another contributing factor to high dropout rates and low preschool attendance may be the lack of recognition of Roma culture within the education system. The European Commission's 2016 Progress Report on Bosnia and Herzegovina highlights that the Roma language is not offered as an optional subject in any school in the country, nor are there alternative opportunities to learn it. Not only is education in the Roma language nonexistent, but it is also neither mentioned as a requirement nor considered a possibility in any official reports (European Commission, 2016). Roma in the Wars of the 1990s and as Refugees in Bosnia and Herzegovina As a result of the wars in the former Yugoslavia, tens of thousands of Roma from Bosnia and Herzegovina, Macedonia and Serbia were forced to leave their homes. In Bosnia and Herzegovina, hundreds of Roma were killed, but Roma were never recognised as victims of the war (Rorke, 2016). There is very little information about the exact number of Roma victims during these wars. Additionally, there is a lack of information about war crimes committed against Roma. According to a 2021 study by the Forum of Roma in Serbia, Roma over the age of 65 in Serbia testified that every twelfth elderly person had lost someone in the wars of the 1990s, and nearly the same proportion reported that a close family member had been wounded (Autonomija, 2024). Addressing war crimes is a problem that exists at the national level in BiH. War crimes researchers from non-governmental organizations have stated that Roma people were victims of all sides during the war, despite not being involved in starting the conflict. On top of that, unlike other ethnic groups, there were no paramilitary groups to protect Roma people. (DWP, 2024). To this day, only one case involving crimes against Roma has been prosecuted. The Skočić case involves members of the Simini Chetniks unit, who in July 1992 destroyed a mosque in the village of Skočić near Zvornik and killed 27 Roma civilians. They raped three Roma women, then took all the captured individuals in a truck to the village of Malešić, where the three women were singled out and taken to a house, where they were detained for several months. They were kept as slaves, raped, beaten, and forced to serve the members of the unit. One of them was 13 years old, and the other was 15. The remaining Roma men were taken to a pit in the village of Hamzići, where they were individually pulled out of the vehicle, killed with knives or firearms, and their bodies thrown into the pit. A bomb was then thrown into the pit. For these crimes, two members of the unit were sentenced to eight years, and one to five years, for the following acts: inhumane treatment, bodily harm, sexual humiliation, and rape. For example, one of the two sentenced to eight years, Zoran Djurdjević, committed the crime of raping a Bosniak woman a month before this crime, for which he was sentenced to 13 years (Nikolic, 2010). The Humanitarian Law Center points out that no one has been convicted for the murder of 27 Roma men, and that sentences for the prolonged sexual violence and rape of Roma women were significantly lighter than those for similar crimes against women of other nationalities. Based on this, the Center believes that Serbian institutions responsible for prosecuting war crimes are indifferent to investigating and prosecuting crimes against Roma during the conflicts in the former Yugoslavia. This lack of action, coupled with a clear absence of empathy for the victims, reveals a discriminatory attitude toward Roma within these institutions. (Humanitarian Law Center, 2019). The fact that cases of war crimes committed against Roma are rarely even initiated, and when they are, they result in lenient sentences, is alarming enough. Even more concerning is the fact that many accused and even convicted war criminals move freely and work across the former Yugoslavia, making the region highly unsafe for vulnerable groups such as the Roma people. As we have already noted, a large number of proceedings have yet to be initiated or are still in their early stages, and the Humanitarian Law Center has repeatedly warned about the potential dangers posed by the absence of lustration for war criminals. For example, a war criminal who was sentenced to 22 years in prison for the most serious crimes against the Muslim population was, with the approval of a primary school principal and the support of the mayor, allowed to give a lecture to children in a school in Novi Sad last year - on the topic of "heroism" (Bursać, 2023). Similarly, in the most recent elections held in Serbia, Vojislav Šešelj, who was convicted by the Hague Tribunal for hate speech, participated in the elections and is currently part of the ruling coalition in the country's capital (N1, 2023). Thus, individuals who participated in or supported war crimes remain embedded in the structures of power today. Given that Bosnia and Herzegovina has a three-member presidency, with each member representing one of the three constituent peoples, it is also worth noting that the party representing Serbs was founded by Radovan Karadžić, a convicted war criminal sentenced to life imprisonment by the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (United Nations, 2016). The circumstances are even more challenging for Roma who left for foreign countries during the war and returned to Bosnia and Herzegovina afterward. The post-war political and social structures often excluded them, leaving many without access to housing, healthcare, or education. A large number of Roma lack proper identification documents, preventing them from obtaining refugee status or state assistance. Furthermore, the destruction of their homes and displacement disrupted their traditional ways of life, pushing many into extreme poverty. Reports from organizations such as the United Nations and Human Rights Watch have documented cases of discrimination against Roma in the post-war period. The United Nations even declared Roma as a Category of Persons from Bosnia and Herzegovina who are in Continued Need of International Protection after the war (UNHCR, 1999).  Many Roma settlements were destroyed during the conflict, and those who attempted to return often faced hostility from local communities. For these reasons, the EU signed an agreement with Bosnia and Herzegovina, obligating the country to reintegrate all Roma who were deported from the European Union back to Bosnia and Herzegovina (Efendic & Ferré, 2023). To achieve this goal, national governments developed “reintegration policies.” However, these policies do not always take into account the specific situation of Romani returnees, particularly the discrimination and other forms of anti-Gypsyism they face. More concretely, they fail to address the lack of adequate housing and the limited access to the labor market that Roma experience due to their ethnicity. Moreover, the “reintegration policies” do not always acknowledge the different circumstances of returnees. For instance, Roma banished in the aftermath of the war in Kosovo who spent more than 15 years in Western Europe face a different situation upon return compared to Roma who left their home countries only a few years ago. Additionally, the measures outlined in these “reintegration policies” are not fully implemented, primarily due to a lack of financial resources (Civil Rights Defenders, 2018, 26). Thus, even when bound by an agreement, Bosnia and Herzegovina fails to provide adequate protection for returning Roma. The situation is significantly worse when Roma return from countries that are not EU members, as there is no regulation obligating Bosnia and Herzegovina to reintegrate them into society. Exclusion as a post-war reality The Roma population in Bosnia and Herzegovina faces deep-rooted systemic discrimination, socio-economic exclusion, and political marginalization. Despite being the largest national minority, Roma remain largely invisible in official policies, lacking fundamental rights such as access to education, employment, healthcare, and legal recognition. Their historical and contemporary suffering, including the atrocities committed against them during the wars of the 1990s, remains unacknowledged, perpetuating cycles of marginalization. The lack of institutional commitment to justice and inclusion, coupled with rising nationalist rhetoric, further exacerbates their vulnerability. Non-governmental organizations in Bosnia and Herzegovina, as well as international human rights organizations, often describe the position of Roma in BiH as a "vicious cycle." There is no doubt that Roma are excluded from society, and their integration requires a chain reaction that the government and institutions of Bosnia and Herzegovina show no willingness to initiate. Roma in Bosnia and Herzegovina are, above all, unsafe, exposed to violence that goes unpunished, and their frequent lack of access to healthcare makes them even more vulnerable. References Agency for Statistics of Bosnia and Herzegovina. (2019). Census of Population, Households and Dwellings in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Agency for Statistics of Bosnia and Herzegovina. https://www.popis.gov.ba/popis2013/doc/Knjiga2/K2_S_E.pdf Autonomija. (2024, August 31). MARKO MILOSAVLJEVIĆ: Romske žrtve jugoslovenskih ratova ostale marginalizovane i nepriznate. Portal građanske Vojvodine, Autonomija. https://autonomija.info/marko-milosavljevic-romske-zrtve-jugoslovenskih-ratova-ostale-marginalizovane-i-nepriznate/ Bursać, D. (2023, May 17). Bursać: Tišina tamo, ratni zločinac djeci drži čas! ALJAZEERA. https://balkans.aljazeera.net/opinions/2023/5/17/bursac-tisina-tamo-ratni-zlocinac-djeci-drzi-cas CAHROM. (2016). THEMATIC REPORT BY THE GROUP OF EXPERTS ON VOCATIONAL EDUCATION AND TRAINING FOR ROMA. Ad Hoc Committee of Experts on Roma and Traveller Issues. https://rm.coe.int/16806a9332 Chileva, A., Clarke-Habib, S., & Kut, G. (2021). A Manual for Trainers in the Western Balkans: Youth peer education for peacebuilding and conflict transformation. Regional Youth Cooperation Office. https://www.rycowb.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/Y-Peer_PB_Manual_English_web.pdf Civil Rights Defenders. (2018). The Wall of Anti-Gypsyism: Roma in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Civil Rights Defenders. https://crd.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/The-Wall-of-Anti-Gypsyism-–-Roma-in-Bosnia-and-Herzegovina-BiH.pdf DWP. (2024, Jun 22). Zločini nad Romima na području bivše Jugoslavije nikad nisu procesuirani. Dealing with the past. https://dwp-balkan.org/bs/zlocini-nad-romima-na-podrucju-bivse-jugoslavije-nikad-nisu-procesuirani/ Efendic, A., & Ferré, C. (2023). ASSESSMENT OF POLICY, INSTITUTIONAL AND SERVICE GAPS RELATED TO SUSTAINABLE SOCIO-ECONOMIC REINTEGRATION OF RETURNEES IN BOSNIA AND HERZEGOVINA. UNDP. https://www.undp.org/sites/g/files/zskgke326/files/2024-10/returnee_assessment_bih_report_final.pdf European Commission. (2016). 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(2023, September 23). THE ICTY INDICTED 161 INDIVIDUALS for serious violations of international humanitarian law committed in the territory of the former Yugoslavia. ICTY. https://www.icty.org/en/cases/key-figures-cases Kulkova, M. (2019). From Negative to Positive Peace in Western Balkans. Central European Journal of International and Security Studies, 13(3), 26-47. https://cejiss.org/images/issue_articles/2019-volume-13-issue-3/02-kulkova.pdf N1. (2023, November 1). Šešelj: Radikali u koaliciji sa SNS na beogradskim i lokalnim izborima. Danas. https://www.danas.rs/vesti/politika/seselj-radikali-u-koaliciji-sa-sns-na-beogradskim-i-lokalnim-izborima/ Nikolic, M. (2010, February 1). Prvi proces za zločine nad Romima. Radio Slobodna Evropa. https://www.slobodnaevropa.org/a/skocic_romi_zlocin/1944992.html Perviz, I. (2023, April 16). Dosije Stava: Sud BiH osudio najviše ratnih zločinaca u historiji. stav.ba. https://stav.ba/vijest/dosje-stava-sud-bih-osudio-najvise-ratnih-zlocinaca-u-historiji/ Post-conflict Research Center. (2018). Roma on the Margins. OSCE Mission to BiH. https://www.osce.org/files/f/documents/8/2/406001.pdf Rorke, B. (2016, July 20). 25 Years after Yugoslavia: Roma Exclusion (Part 1). European Roma Rights Centre. https://www.errc.org/news/25-years-after-yugoslavia-roma-exclusion-part-1 Sarajlic, A. (2020). Analysis of mainstream policies targeting Roma integration in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Regional Cooperation Council Roma Integration Action team. https://www.rcc.int/romaintegration2020/files/admin/docs/246777234263684e42c5e9739dfcbdab.pdf Singer, P. (1993). Practical ethics (2nd ed.). Cambridge University Press. Tokača, M. (2012). The Bosnian Book of the Dead. Istraživačko dokumentacioni centar. https://exyugenealogy.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/bosanska-knjiga-mrtvih_tom-i.pdf Trepanic, A. 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Author: Iva Kojić  The collapse of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia in the 1990s was far more than a local tragedy; it tore apart an intricately linked society and economy overnight. As new borders rose and political agreements hardened, ordinary people were left stranded within fragile new economies, unable to compete with the wider world. For the truck driver waiting endless hours at the Batrovci border, or the student from Bitola whose diploma is worthless in Belgrade, the breakup replaced old certainties with lost futures. For more than two decades, influential academic and policy voices have described reintegration as a set of assignments dictated by the EU’s Berlin Process, treating the Western Balkans as passive recipients and ignoring the region’s powerful, internal need for a homegrown recovery. Illustration photo. Retrieved from Pexels (www.pexels.com) The Berlin Process offers a clear roadmap, while the Open Balkan Initiative appears, at least on paper, to be a more nimble, practical answer to real-life needs. Of course, both are complicated by local politicians' ambitions. In the end, the best way forward is to blend the strengths of both: keep the high standards of the Berlin Process, but add the local ownership and flexibility of Open Balkan, so that these projects actually make a difference for regular people living under their shadow Theoretical Framework and the Live Reality At the heart of the argument for regional integration lies David Mitrany’s functionalist theory. Mitrany posited that technical and social needs (energy distribution, transport logistics, public health) naturally ignore political borders and force cooperation out of sheer necessity (Alexandrescu, 2007, 29) . In the post-Yugoslav context, this theory suggests that the shared power grids, railways, and supply chains left behind by the common state act as a silent pull, drawing the successor states back into a web of international activities. But the real work of regionalism cannot just be explained by academic theories. Mitrany's ideas help set the stage, but when you look at what is actually happening in the Balkans, things are much messier. While functionalism suggests cooperation emerges from practical necessity, critics argue that it overlooks complex socio-political realities and power dynamics. The Open Balkan initiative, for example, is not just a response to practical needs. It is also shaped by the ambitions of political leaders. Many of these same leaders have, at home, let the rule of law slide and often put showmanship ahead of actually solving problems. Similarly, other integration theories, such as neofunctionalism or intergovernmentalism, might offer insights into how political actors and state interests play crucial roles in integration efforts. Thus, although theories hold that working together on practical issues should lead to political peace, in reality, these efforts are often hijacked for political gain. There is a real grassroots desire for reintegration, but the tools used to get there are often twisted to serve political survival. To truly judge these efforts, we must examine how political leaders use (and sometimes misuse) these theories, sometimes helping people, sometimes just helping themselves. Academic models are helpful, but right now, it is the politicians at the wheel, steering through a landscape full of old tensions and personal power plays. The Berlin Process: The Outsourced Assignment Launched in 2014, the Berlin Process was intended to revitalize regional cooperation through high-level summits and the creation of a Common Regional Market. Its greatest strength and its most significant contribution to the lives of regular people is its inclusivity. It involves all six regional partners, ensuring regional integration remains aligned with the EU's strict standards and legal principles. This inclusivity is a vital democratic safeguard, as it prevents the “island” effect where certain states are left behind due to political exclusion. In practical terms, the Berlin Process has produced tangible, humanized successes that improve daily life, such as the “Roam Like at Home” agreement, which has significantly lowered communication costs for millions of people traveling for work or family across the divided region. By eliminating roaming charges, the process has moved the region one step closer to the standards of the EU’s internal market (Mitrovic 2025, 10). However, a deeper critique reveals that the Berlin Process often feels like an outsourced project managed by a distant bureaucracy. For the regular citizen, its results are often trapped in administrative stagnation or slowed by complex ratification processes across six different parliaments. As Kamberi (2021, 60) notes, the prospect of the EU joining now seems “too distant and uncertain”, leading to a loss of faith in reforms that feel like a never-ending series of homework assignments given by Brussels. The Open Balkan Initiative: Agility, Ego, and the Practical Reality In contrast, the Open Balkan initiative is a locally led project born of a perceived revolt against the status quo. Its greatest strength is its agility. By focusing on low-hanging fruit, it has achieved practical successes where the Berlin Process has historically struggled (Xhoxhaj 2024, 7). The 2024 Labor Market Access Agreement is the primary example of this practical work: it allows a citizen of North Macedonia to work in Serbia or Albania without the humiliating and expensive ordeal of obtaining a work permit (Mitrovic 2025, 8). This is a direct response to the brain drain crisis hollowing out the region. However, the Open Balkan initiative is also flawed, mainly because it excludes Kosovo, Montenegro, and Bosnia and Herzegovina, which risks further splitting the region. And, just like with other regional efforts, we cannot remain blind to the politicians in charge. Citizens worry that this initiative is a front, giving political leaders a bigger stage and more power, even as the rule of law back home deteriorates. Some critics even warn that it could end up putting Serbia at the forefront, mainly benefiting big companies and politicians instead of everyday people trying to get by. However, proponents of Open Balkan argue that the initiative prioritizes regional economic collaboration, aiming to bring tangible benefits quickly to those who need it the most. They assert that by simplifying labor mobility and reducing trade barriers, the initiative addresses real economic needs and can set a precedent for broader regional inclusion in the future. Bridging the Gap through Practical Reintegration The positive aspects inherent in both the Berlin Process and the Open Balkan initiative must be synthesized to move beyond political spectacle and toward a genuine improvement in the lives of regular people. Within the Berlin Process, the region must preserve the high standards of the EU acquis and ensure total regional inclusivity within the WB6. In the Open Balkan, the synthesis must foster a sense of regional ownership. The bridge between these two models lies in the Staged Accession model. This framework suggests the EU should stop treating the Balkans as a binary “in or out” choice and instead offer early, functional access to the Single Market as a reward for specific regional cooperation successes (Mitrovic 2025, 19). For the citizen, a synthesis of these models would move from grand declaration to practical work. For example, moving beyond simple roaming agreements to a unified regional energy grid and digital market might allow Balkan tech startups to scale regionally before competing globally, thereby fulfilling the need for a shared economic space that remains physically dependent on common infrastructure. Another example could be expanding the labor mobility protocols of the Open Balkan to the entire WB6 within the legitimate framework of the Berlin Process. This would ensure that a nurse from Sarajevo or a programmer from Pristina can move as easily as their counterparts in the Trio, while still benefiting from the legal protections and safety standards guaranteed by EU alignment. This is where the real work happens. It is not found in high-level summits but in regional harmonization that makes the border invisible to the person crossing it. By utilizing the political speed of the Open Balkan to fulfill the institutional promises of the Berlin Process, the region might finally begin to heal in a way that serves the people. Moving Beyond the Homework Assignment The reintegration of the post-Yugoslav space is a structural necessity- a response to the unsustainable fragmentations of the 1990s. While academic theories provide a useful map, they cannot account for the practical difficulty of navigating the political egos and catastrophic track records of regional elites who often use these platforms for domestic promotion. The disintegration of Yugoslavia created a rupture that cannot be healed by an outsourced project alone. It requires a reintegration that is both technically sound and locally owned. Ultimately, the promise of regional stability is in moving beyond the political theater of leaders and toward genuine technical cooperation that serves the citizens. Regionalism is not a homework assignment for Brussels. Rather, it is a survival strategy for the people of the Balkans. The promise of either model is hollow if it does not address the ten-hour wait at the border or the unrecognized diploma. By reclaiming regional ownership and synthesizing the practical successes of both models, the successor states can finally make the borders breathable again. Reintegration should not be a decision for politicians. Instead, it is a mandate dictated by geography and the shared needs of a population that refuses to be defined solely by its borders. 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